#see your reading level of the words you use

[lostinlovingrevery]

Somnolent

Trilogy! Logan X F! Reader

A/N: I started writing this while half asleep last night so if there's some parts that seem odd. No there ain't...

Plot: Logan comes back home to you late at night...

Warnings: SMUT, 18+! MDNI, sleepy sex, unprotected PiV, creampie, light cockwarming at the end (watch out for UTIs), fingering, there's some fluff too!

Word Count: 2497

The mansion late at night was always a bit unsettling.

The halls usually filled with kids and teenagers, chatting, laughing, and running about, were empty and quiet. Lights throughout the school dimmed to a lower level, making the halls and most rooms shadowy and dark. It didn’t mean everyone was asleep, but for the most part, the school was tucked in.

Logan quietly stepped inside. He has come back from a solo mission, something to do with getting some info regarding a young mutant that has taken up cage fighting and using the advantage of their powers to win fights. 

Sounds eerily familiar. 

Except for the young part. 

Charles thought Logan would be perfect for the job, considering he had a “career” cage fighting even though Logan insisted that no, it wasn’t a career it was just a way to make some money. Nonetheless, considering Logan had agreed to stay at the mansion and help out after some…various incidents, he told Charles he’ll see what he can do. 

Kid was just some misled youth, believing he was some freak of society and ran away from home. Logan wasn’t really good at helping people through life crisis- considering he was in his own. Gave him some honest advice, and in the end kid ended up deciding to go back home to his parents. Job well done. He did invite him to join the school- purely because Charles told him to offer the invitation, but he declined. One thing at a time.

Hearing the sound of the tv playing, he peeked inside to see the same boy as usual - who claims he doesn’t sleep, watching tv, flipping channels with the blink of his eyes.

“TVs gonna rot your mind bub,” Logan mutters as he watches the channels flip through. 

“Nuh uh.” He mutters. 

“Couldn’t you just read a book?” 

“I read in the day.” He says. He blinks again, and an old cartoon is playing, which Logan recognizes to be ‘The Flintstones’. The boy settled deeper in the couch, seemingly satisfied by the channel he was watching. He scoffed, a grin coming across his face as he shook his head, turning back to go towards the stairs. The wooden steps creaked under his weight as he walked up the stairs. 

There was one thing that had been on his mind the entire time he was gone. The sweet little thing that has really become the sole reason he decided to stay- although he hasn’t told you that yet. 

He stopped at the door that belonged to your bedroom. Cracking it open silently as he peered inside, and he could make out your sleeping figure under the sheets. Stepping inside, he dropped his bag to the floor silently and closed the door behind him. He walked around the bed, his eyes not leaving you as he got closer. 

You were sleeping peacefully on your back, one arm resting across your stomach, the other, folded behind your head, which was turned to the side- facing him. Your hair was messy, your lips slightly parted and your breathing was slow and even. 

You looked beautiful, so peaceful. Different from your usual chaotic self when you are awake. Part of the reason why you grew on him so much. You knew how to push his buttons, but you also knew how to calm him down (Especially when Scott gets on his nerves). You’d been his grounding force since the first day he showed up. 

He leaned over her, his arm bracing himself above you, resting on the headboard as he took in your features. For a long while, he’d been lost in himself. No memories of who he was, or what had happened to him so many years ago that haunts him in his nightmares. Through a series of unfortunate events, he got to discover what happened to him- and you held his hand the entire time. 

Stirring, you slowly opened your eyes, blinking a few times at first being unsure of what you were looking at until Logan’s face came into view. You smiled sleepily, 

“Lo.” 

“Hey baby.” He greets coos. It was then how it occurred to him, how lucky he felt to be able to have you to come home too. Home?

“Mm..” You groaned, stretching your arms above your bed, arching your back in a big stretch. 

“Hm, someone's sleepy.” 

You nodded, closing your eyes with your arms folded behind your head. Logan's eyes lingered downwards, noticing the strappy nightie you were sporting. “What time is it?”

“Late.” He says, his hand coming down to gently pull the blanket from you, exposing the upper half of your body to him, and he felt himself getting hard. The nightie you were wearing, a cotton white, with lace along the hem of the collar, a sweetheart neckline that perfectly accented your breasts. The nightie you had on wasn’t particularly sexy, but Logan was pent up. He’s had to use his hand, getting himself off to the thought of you nearly every night since he’d been gone. 

“How was your trip?” You asked, your voice pitched higher due to your sleepy state, a small yawn escaping you. He looked down at you with half-lidded eyes, 

“Fine. I missed you.” He mutters, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck. Sounds of your sleepy mirth made him smile, and he began to press kisses over your shoulder. 

“I missed you too.” 

“Course ya did.” he mutters, and your hand smacked his, eliciting a warm chuckle from him. His hand came up, fingers hooking under the strap of your nightie, sliding it down your shoulder, as he pressed kisses downwards towards your chest. “This is a cute lil thing you got on bub. New?”

“Bought it for you.” You hummed. He sat up, looking down at you with a grin, and you were looking up at him with a sleepy smile. 

“That so?”

You nodded slowly, closing your eyes again, struggling to stay awake. He felt his dick twitch, watching your dozy form attempt to stay awake for him. He chewed on his lip, before returning to press kisses over the top of your chest again. One of your hands came up to curl into his hair, encouraging him to keep going. His lips pressed in the space between your breasts. 

“Baby, can I show you how much I missed you?” He asks, his voice low- tittering into begging. He looked up, watching your reaction and you nodded. 

He excitedly stood up, shedding his jacket- dropping the leather to the ground, and kicking off his boots before his hands came to unbuckle his belt, and unzip his pants. He pushed your comforter off, and you spread your legs for him, as he eagerly climbs onto the bed between them. He didn’t even bother taking his clothes off, as his lips met yours. 

He kissed you languidly, as you attempted to return the effort, but being half asleep as you were- it was fairly messy. He chuckled against your lips, nipping at them gently. “Someone sure is tired.”

“Uh uh.” You shook your head, brows creasing angrily with a small pout- but your eyes, shut tiredly, fought against your denial.

“Don’t worry about it bub, just enjoy the ride, I’ll take care of you. Show you how much I missed ya.” He purrs, pressing soft kisses to your cheek and back down to your neck. He nipped and sucked at your neck, creating small purple bruises, as his hand trailed down your side, lifting the hem of your pretty nightie up and his fingers traced your inner thigh, before reaching your folds. “Hm, no panties. Dirty girl.” 

“Mm. I did that for you. In case you came back.” You mutter. 

“You spoil me doll.” He mutters, leaning to press open mouth kisses along your jawline, up to your chin, as his fingers began to circle your clit, gathering wetness on them, as he rubbed you and opened you up. You took a sharp breath, as you felt pleasure begin to envelope you. You brought your hands up to your pillow, softly gripping them as you bit your lip. His fingers traced down your folds, reaching to your hole, and he carefully slid one finger inside you. “So tight baby, gotta open up for me.” 

Your hips lifted involuntarily as he began working you open, stroking his finger in and out of you, curling it to hit that sweet spot inside of you that made you moan, and your grip on your pillows tighten. 

“Lo-” You whined, 

“Shh, I know.” He hushed, pressing a kiss to your pouty lips. He slid another finger inside, moving them inside and out in a thrusting motion, before scissoring them open inside you, stretching you open and you gasped. 

“Lo,” You moaned again tipping your head to the side. He grunted, pulling his fingers out and sitting up. He pushed his jeans down, his hard cock came out, popping against his stomach, with dribbles of pre-cum rolling down it. He took himself in his hand, lubing himself up with your arousal and his pre-cum together as he stroked himself. 

“Fuck, hadn’t stopped thinking about you all week baby.” He groaned. 

Your relationship, while still new - had been nothing but passion, and trust. You and Logan just seemed to get each other without having to say a word. Communication wasn’t Logans forte, never was as he began to realize as memories of his long life slowly come back to him. A random scent triggers back to something distant, his childhood home. A song that reminds him of his time in the 70’s, with a woman who led him to become like his now, long since dead and gone. A sound of a low flying plane, reminding him of the wars he’d been apart of. It was a lot- the mind can only remember so much. You always were patient with him though, talked him through everything. He’s addicted to you.

Climbing forward, he pushed your thighs wider,  and lifted the skirt of your nightie to your belly, exposing your lower half to him. He felt saliva filling his mouth, the urge to taste you crawling up his spine, but his cock throbbed painfully and he decided that eating you out like you were a rare delicacy was going to happen later. He leaned over you, an arm braced by your head, his free hand pressing the tip of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing inside- a loud hiss escaping him at how tight you felt. 

“Mm!” You moaned biting your lip, you turned your head to the other side. You were still half asleep, aware of what was happening, but your sleepy state made all the pleasure Logan was giving you 10 times more intense, as you drifted in and out of falling asleep and waking up again. Your body felt limp, Logan resting over you keeping you warm like a blanket. If you hadn’t been talking to him first- you would’ve thought this was a dream.  A very wet dream.

He continued moving deep inside until he bottomed out, and he buried his face into your neck, his arms moving to wrap around you and hold you while he fucked you. His pace was slow at first, pulling out almost to the tip, before pushing back in - molding space for his cock inside you.

Your arms lazily wrapped around his neck, one hand burying into his thick curls, as you bit your lip, small whines escaping you with each thrust. You felt incredibly relaxed, being surrounded by him- his voice cooing in your ears, his scent overwhelming your nose, his cock stretching you open so wonderfully. Hitting that spot his fingers were rubbing just moments ago. You brought your legs higher up, wrapping them around his waist- desperately wanting him to stay buried deep inside you as he thrusted slowly. Being around Logan felt nothing but safe, which was something you’d always yearned for. Safety in your life, due to living in a world that hated who you were. 

Harsh pants escaped Logan, his hot breath on your neck as he began to thrust faster, he wrapped his arms around your waist, your hands burying into his hair. 

“Goddamn baby- you feel so good. So fucking good.” He groaned. He was rutting into you, barely pulling out. “So damn wet and tight- you’re all for me aren’t ya?”

You whined, desperately nodding your head as he kept hitting that spot inside you over and over. Your nails dug into his scalp, pulled at his hair, making him moan- then pain of your nails scratching him spurring him on as he began to go faster, his hips slamming into your thighs, lewd wet noises filling the room. 

“Logan-” You whined tipping your head back onto your pillow. He grunted, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. 

“Fuck.” He hissed. “Cmon baby, cum for me. I need you to cum- please-” He whined. Your legs were trembling, his deep thrusts leaving your body to start going numb. “You’re all mine, you know that? All fucking mine-” 

The tight thread pooling in your lower tummy snapped, as waves of pleasure shook your body, wetness splashing onto him, effectively soaking the both of you. You whined his name, arching your back towards him, and he bit down on your neck, thrusting inside you once more, before he let out a loud- very loud, cry of pleasure, panting as he came deep inside you, his warm cum painting your walls, so much of it that it begins to spill out of your hole, still stuffed with him. 

He collapsed against you, his cheek pressed against your chest, a small bit of drool escaping him as he recovered from the waves of euphoria that was still crashing through him. You body went limp, legs unwrapping from his waist, hands falling to either side of your head. 

“Fuck.” He hissed. “See what you do to me bub?” He slowly pushes himself up. Leaning forward to press his lips over yours. You hummed in response. He brushed some hair out of your face, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Lets get some sleep.” He mutters and you nodded. 

He started to pull out of you, but you whined. “Stay in.” You say. He chuckled. 

“You sure?” 

“Mm.” 

“Alright.” He wrapped his arm over your waist, turning to his back and bringing you with him, lying on his chest. “Comfortable?”

“Mm.” You nodded, now more sleepy than ever in your post-coitus haze. He pulled the comforter over the both of you, his hand softly scratching up and down your back, his other hand resting on your hip. Your cheek pressed to his chest. “Lo?” You mumbled. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re mine too, right?” You asks, you were drifting off to sleep, your voice barely a whisper, but he understood you.  

He smiled. “Yeah sweetheart. I’m all yours.” 

[polarisjisung]

ꨄ A FLAME BLOOMS, LIKE A FEVER

02z WHEN YOURE SICK

pairings: enha (02z) × reader genre: fluff wc: 0.55k warnings: use of petnames notes: I accidentally bought kids panadol when I was sick and it was so fire I think it was called calpol but it was so good yo | LIBRARY

JAY — acts of service!!

Don't expect to move a finger, you're hungry? He'll cook. You need something from another room? He'll get it. You need to go downstairs? He'll carry you.

“Jay you can't do everything for me, honey.” You'd croak out, coughing. And Jay would already be standing with a glass of warm honey water for you to soothe the ache in your throat.

He takes your words as a challenge. He absolutely can do everything for you. Just you wait and see.

You're pulling your jumper over your arms, feeling too hot, and Jay runs, practically sprints to your side.

“Arms up love,” you don't have the energy to argue with him, and if you did, you're sure you'd lose anyways, letting him pull the material over your head in one swift motion.

You can expect that jumper to be freshly washed and neatly folded in your closet the next time you get up. Maybe even with a couple of sprays of his cologne to make it smell just like him.

JAKE — bribes you with kisses

Is a mother. He knows you're going to be sick even before you are. It's like an instinct. He'll warn you, telling you not to go out with wet hair or to take a jacket when you go out. You don't listen, of course, and Jake nags you endlessly.

Still, he takes care of you meticulously, spoon feeding you home cooked meals he's spent hours making.

“Jakey, I'm really not hungry.” You'd say, but he was having absolutely none of it.

“I know, baby, but you have to eat.” he'd coo before the idea comes to him, “One bite and i'l give you a kiss, hmm?”

Ever greedy for kisses, you'd agree, not realising Jake would probably end up the same as you a week later. He doesn't mind, though, just wanting you to get better.

Despite your hair being absolutely soaked with sweat, Jake still traces his fingertips across your head, massaging it. Only feeling relieved when you finally fall asleep.

SUNGHOON — medicines galore

At first, he tries to fix everything with wet paper towels and some panadol, but when that doesn't work, Sunghoon goes above and beyond.

“I got some headache medicines from the pharmacy, a few flavours of cough drops in case you don't like them all, I got these cute tissues, some herbal medicine and apparently chewing on ginger helps too.” He'd only have been gone for half an hour, not wanting to leave you alone for too long, and he'd come back with enough medicine to last you both a lifetime.

One you take the medicine, he watches you like a hawk, monitoring your condition, checking for any side effects. And if the medicine doesn't seem effective within a few hours, you practically have to beg Sunghoon not to buy more.

“Hoon, it's not going to work that quickly.” You have to tug him from walking away with all your strength.

“But you're sick.” He looks at you, frowning, with pouted lips and puppy eyes. You know just how much he hates seeing you in pain, with those low energy levels, and the missing spark in your eyes. It makes your heart swell.

“Hmm, they say the best medicine is—”

Sunghoon leaps out of your hold, ecstatic, “What, what is it?”

“Cuddles.”

taglist : @nanawrlds @flaminghotyourmom @mystverse @chenlezip @lotties-readings @jenobubbles

[wombmoth]

I subscribe to the belief that not all men are rapists and pedophiles but that they all have the capacity to be. I believe this is because men are especially opportunistic in their approach to life.

So because there are a lot of vulnerable young women out there, who have been primed to be submissive by patriarchy, it makes them easy prey and when men see an opportunity, they take it.

So while under different circumstances they may not behave like predators, in this instance they do because they have access to vulnerable young girls, and its a lot easier to get sexual access to an unexperienced young girl than a woman who knows how to set boundaries and can better read someone's intentions.

This kind of dynamic taking place over and over again over hundreds of years has created a culture of men who associate young girls with easy sex. Which is why they are so fetishized in culture.

So I don't think that men naturally prefer young girls, I just think that they know a good opportunity when they see one, and they have spread the word to other men "oh hey if you want to get laid, these young girls are really easy to manipulate into letting you fuck them"

On the subject of opportunistic behavior, if you read about past wars and the tactics used, you will notice that tons of men will begin mass raping women, men that are just your average joe back at home.

Why is that? Because they have been given the green light to do it. Hell, all you have to do is read about history and notice that a higher percentage of men were just outright scumbags. Again, that is because women were not protected and men had permission to behave however they felt like.

So this is all just evidence of their tendency to act out when the opportunity presents itself to them. Not all will necessarily seek out opportunities to abuse and rape women, BUT a majority will not turn down the chance to do so if circumstances make it easy for them. Do you see what I'm getting at?

It's disgusting and not really much better than the idea that all men are pedophiles. It's just that men operate on a very primal level and it doesn't help that now people just throw their hands up and say "Well that's just how men are!" so they have no incentive to start acting like civilized human beings.

Really at this point we can't expect them to either.

There’s constantly a question on my mind. I’m sure a lot of you have experienced sexual abuse before the age of 18. We all know teen girls receive a lot more attention than adult women. Are all men pedophiles? What are your thoughts about that? Lately I’ve been thinking that some men are just able to control themselves better but young girls are sexualized at such a high rate that I can’t let this go. If not why is the top porn category “barely legal teens”?

[saebyeokbliss]

WE NEED MORE SUB! SAEBYOK/READER!!!

Seriously, I rarely see any of it and I think it's such a good premise!

ik you said you're not so good at smut, but your writing is really good, I doubt you could mess that up. practicing is the best way to improve!! (And we also get smutt 😇)

totally get it if you dont want to write it, it's your choice! but ill be definetly reading it if you do ☺️

SEE IF I CARE

synopsis: while your busy studying for your midterm, it seems sae-byeok can't keep away from you. and since she normally isn't the clingy type, you decide to take advantage of this side of her while it lasts. warnings: sub!sae-byeok, dom!reader, wlw, eating out, foreplay

pairing: sae-byeok x fem!reader

a/n: I AGREE WITH YOU!! happy to oblige in this request, and just know i actually blushed writing this so... hope you enjoy!! ^^

It wasn’t often Sae-byeok got like this.

She didn’t care much for affection. Not that it didn’t feel good—because it felt good—but because that just wasn’t her. She’d spent so much of her life building walls that even the idea of tearing them down, even for you, made her chest tighten. And though your relationship was established, she still felt like she was walking on eggshells most days. She didn’t want to cross any lines, even if she sometimes caught herself itching to do so.

But tonight, something was different. Maybe it was the way your brow furrowed in concentration as you sat hunched over your textbooks, your lips slightly parted in thought. Or maybe it was how you’d been holed up at your desk for hours, completely absorbed in whatever midterm you were preparing for, barely sparing her a glance.

Sae-byeok sat on the edge of the bed, her knee bouncing restlessly as she watched you. She had tried to ignore the nagging feeling in her chest, the one urging her to get up and pull you away from your books. She rarely let herself want things, but tonight, she wanted you. Not just your presence, but your attention, your hands, your lips, your eyes on her instead of the endless pages of notes and textbooks.

She sighed quietly, leaning back on her hands as her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. It was late, and she knew you were stressed, but she couldn’t help the way her fingers twitched with the urge to do something. Anything to get you to look at her.

“Hey,” she called out, her tone flat like usual.

You hummed distractedly, not even looking up from your notes. “Hmm?”

She frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. She wasn’t used to feeling…needy. The word itself made her cringe. But there was no denying the warmth in her chest, the way it twisted into frustration every time you ignored her. She stood up and crossed the room, her bare feet silent against the floor. 

Hovering behind you, she leaned down slightly, her chin nearly brushing your shoulder as she glanced at the book you were so absorbed in. “How long are you going to keep studying?”

“Until I feel ready,” you replied absentmindedly, your pen scratching against the page.

Sae-byeok rolled her eyes, straightening up. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting—maybe for you to drop everything and turn to her with that bright smile she loved so much. But of course, you were too focused, too determined. She admired that about you, but right now, it was driving her crazy.

She walked around the desk, her hands shoved into the pockets of her sweatpants as she stopped beside you. For a moment, she just stood there, staring at you, hoping you’d feel her eyes on you and finally look up. But when you didn’t, she sighed again and crouched down so she was at eye level with you.

“Hey,” she said again, this time a little louder.

You blinked, finally turning to look at her. “What is it, Sae-byeok? I’m kind of busy.”

Her heart sank a little at the tired edge to your voice, but she didn’t back down. “You’ve been at this for hours. Don’t you think you should take a break?”

“I can’t,” you said, shaking your head. “The midterm’s in two days, and I’m already behind. I need to—”

“You need to breathe,” she interrupted, her voice firmer now. “You’re going to burn yourself out.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I’ll take a break later, okay? I just need to finish this chapter.”

Sae-byeok’s jaw clenched. She knew you meant well, but the way you brushed her off so easily sent a ripple of irritation through her. She pushed herself up and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly as she stared down at you.

“Fine,” she muttered, walking back to the bed. “Do whatever you want.”

You barely registered the hurt in her tone as you turned back to your notes, but Sae-byeok wasn’t done. She flopped back onto the bed, her arms crossed behind her head as she stared at the ceiling. But after a few minutes, her gaze drifted back to you, and the irritation melted into something softer. She just missed you. She hated how much she missed you, how much she needed you to notice her, to care for her the way she cared for you.

Her eyes flicked to the table, and a mischievous idea crept into her mind. She slid off the bed and made her way back to you, this time kneeling under the desk. You didn’t notice her at first, too engrossed in your notes to register the way her hands brushed against your knees. But when her fingers started tracing slow, teasing circles against your skin, you froze.

“Sae-byeok,” you said warningly, glancing down at her. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she said innocently, though the faint hint of a smile on her face made her look otherwise. “Just bored.”

“Well, find something else to do,” you said, trying to focus on your notes again.

But she didn’t stop. Her hands slid higher, her touch light and maddeningly distracting as she leaned closer to you. “You study too much,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “It’s annoying.”

Your pen stilled in your hand as you turned to glare at her. “Annoying?”

“Yes,” she said simply, her smirk growing. “You never pay attention to me anymore. I’m competing with books and essays.”

You sighed, setting your pen down as you turned to face her fully. “Sae-byeok, I’m trying to do well in school. You know that.”

“I know,” she said, her eyes softening slightly. “But you don’t have to kill yourself over it. You have a girlfriend, you know.”

Her underlying confession caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at her. She looked almost vulnerable, her usual stoic demeanor cracking just enough for you to see the raw honesty in her eyes. Your irritation melted away, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest.

“Come here,” you said softly, reaching for her hand.

She let you pull her to her feet, and before she could say anything, you cupped her face and pressed your lips to hers. She stiffened for a moment, surprised by your sudden affection, but then she melted into the kiss, her arms wrapping around your waist as she pulled you closer.

The kiss was slow and tender, a quiet apology for the hours you’d spent ignoring her. When you finally pulled away, she rested her forehead against yours, looking into your eyes.

“Guess I haven’t exactly been giving you enough attention, have I?” You murmured lowly, pulling her down to straddle your thighs as you sat in the chair.

She raised a brow but didn’t protest, allowing herself to be on top of you. “Yeah. You haven’t.”

“We’re gonna fix that,” You lean in and kissed a trail down her jaw to her neck.

She tilted her head back slightly to give you better access and bit back a moan at the touch she’d been craving since you got home from classes.

As you nipped softly at her neck, your fingers tracing the exposed skin at the hem of her shirt, you murmured almost tauntingly, "It's funny how needy you get, isn't it? Couldn't even let me study in peace."

Sae-byeok's breath hitched, a mix of annoyance and arousal in her eyes as she retorted sharply, "I'm not needy. You're just too damn distracting." Yet, her body betrayed her words, pressing closer into your touch, craving more.

You chuckled softly, your breath warm against her skin. "Oh, really? Because it seems like you're pretty desperate for my attention." Your hands slid under her shirt, palms flat against her stomach, feeling the warmth of her skin. "Admit it."

Her eyes narrowed, a flush spreading across her cheeks, not just from your words but from the slow, deliberate way your hands were exploring her body. "Maybe I was," she conceded, her voice a low growl, "but don't get used to it."

Ignoring her feigned irritation, you leaned in to whisper against her ear, "I like this side of you. All soft and pliant under my hands." You gave a light bite to her earlobe, eliciting a shiver from her.

Sae-byeok's response was a frustrated groan, her fingers gripping your shoulders tight enough to leave marks. "Keep talking like that, and I might have to remind you who usually runs things here."

But instead of backing off, you doubled down, your hands roaming more boldly now. "I think tonight, I'm the one in charge," you teased, feeling her body responding to every touch, every word. "And I think you love it."

Her reply was cut off by a moan as you slid your hand down between her legs, her annoyance fading into pure need. "Fuck," she breathed out, her head falling forward onto your shoulder, giving in to the sensations you were coaxing from her body.

Your fingers teased at the edge of her underwear, a devilish grin playing on your lips as you watched every shiver that ran through her body. Sliding your hand beneath the thin fabric, you found her already wet, her body betraying how much she wanted this, how much she needed you. You began to stroke her gently, drawing a long, languid moan from her lips.

"See? All this tough talk, but you're just melting for me, aren't you?" Your words were a mix of praise and teasing, pushing her further into that haze of need.

Sae-byeok gripped your arm, her nails digging in slightly. "Don't get cocky," she managed to say, though her voice broke with another moan as you increased the pressure, your fingers sliding deeper.

You leaned in, kissing her fiercely, swallowing her moans as your fingers moved rhythmically inside her. She was close, you could tell by the way her body started to tense, but right before she could tip over, you withdrew your fingers, earning a frustrated whimper from her.

Pulling back, you gave her a challenging look. "Bed. Now." It wasn't a request, and Sae-byeok knew better than to argue, especially not in the state you had put her in. She stood, almost unsteady on her feet, and led the way to the bedroom, with you right behind her, your presence a commanding force she couldn't ignore.

Once in the bedroom, you gently pushed her down onto the bed, her eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mix of desire and the remnants of her earlier defiance. You didn’t waste any time; you positioned yourself between her thighs, which she parted eagerly, a silent invitation for you to continue what you'd started.

You trailed kisses along her inner thighs, close but not close enough to where she needed you most, making her squirm with anticipation. When you finally gave in, your tongue met her, tasting her. She gasped, a hand coming down to tangle in your hair, guiding you with silent pleas articulated through her movements and the quickening breaths that filled the room.

“Ah— fuck, mm..” She bit down on her bottom lip, resisting the urge to moan as you devoured her. 

You ate her out like you were starved, your tongue and lips working in tandem to draw every shudder, every whimper from her. Sae-byeok's usual composure was nowhere to be seen now; she was undone, beautifully so, under your attentive ministrations. You focused on her pleasure, driven by the sounds of her moans, by the way her body curved into a bow of tension as she neared her climax.

"Mm.." you hummed against her, your voice a vibration that only served to push her closer to the edge. "You gonna cum for me?”

She tightened her grip in your hair, like she was going to rip out each strand. “If you keep it up, yes.”

With a few more strokes of your tongue coupled with your fingers that had found their way back to her, pressing at her clit, she shattered, her climax washing over her in an intense wave that left her gasping and clinging to you as she rode out the waves of her orgasm.

As her breathing slowed and her grip on your hair loosened, you came up for air and licked around your lips for any remnants of her juices. 

She pulled you by the collar of your shirt and met her lips with yours fervently. It was like the woman had no desire to breathe. You kissed back, your tongue brushing against hers.

Sae-byeok could taste herself on your lips and she smirked, a light scoff escaping her as she pulled away. “You’re so annoying.”

“Am I? You didn’t think so a minute ago.” You teased, moving to lay beside her on the bed, letting out a sigh.

“I always think you’re annoying, even if you’re eating me out.” She folded her arms over her chest, turning her head to look you in the eyes. 

“Good to know.”

[novaursa]

Legacy (across the dream)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Be aware of unspecified time jumps.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (short adult scene)

- Previous part: tomorrow

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril @urdxrling

The war room of Casterly Rock was heavy with the scent of wax and parchment, the weight of war pressing down upon those who stood within it. The torches burned low, casting specters across the grand table where maps of Westeros were spread, marked with ink and sigils.

Tywin Lannister stood at the head of the table, his expression as steady as a drawn blade. The air in the chamber was thick with unease, the lords and officers gathered around waiting in silence as the scout before them took a steadying breath.

"My lord," the scout began, bowing his head. "We found them three leagues east of here, scattered across the rocks and frozen ground. Dead ravens. At least a dozen."

Tywin’s gaze darkened. "And the messages?"

"Untouched," the scout replied, handing over a bundle of scrolls wrapped in black ribbon. "Still sealed. As if they fell from the sky all at once."

A murmur spread through the gathered men, a fear flickering in their eyes.

Tywin untied the ribbon and unrolled one of the messages, his sharp eyes scanning the contents. His fingers tightened around the parchment as he read.

"The last message sent from the capital," he said, voice level but heavy with meaning. "Dated weeks ago."

Another scroll was unfurled, this one bearing the sigil of House Stark.

"Winterfell," he muttered, recognizing the seal. The message was faded but legible. A warning.

Tywin turned to Kevan, who stood beside him, his expression grim. "If these ravens were never delivered, then our communications have been severed for longer than we anticipated."

Kevan nodded. "A troubling sign, brother. The ravens should not have fallen mid-flight unless something unnatural caused it."

The silence in the room deepened. It was Beric Dondarrion who finally spoke, his voice edged with the wisdom of too many deaths and resurrections.

"Magic," he said simply. "Something is at work here, something old. This is no natural occurrence."

Tywin’s jaw tightened, his mind already racing through possibilities.

"You mean to tell me," he said coldly, "that the enemy is interfering with our very means of communication?"

Beric met his gaze with an unwavering expression. "Would it surprise you?"

Tywin did not answer.

You, who had been standing at his side, finally stepped forward. Your gaze lingered on the black-feathered bundle in the scout’s hands before shifting back to Tywin.

"This has only just begun," you said softly. "They are cutting us off, isolating us."

Tywin exhaled sharply, the muscle in his jaw flexing. He looked at you, the unreadable expression in his green eyes betraying nothing of the storm raging in his mind.

"Then we must be prepared," he said at last, handing the scrolls to a waiting scribe. "Every settlement, every outpost under our protection must be warned—send word through trusted riders, not ravens. If our messages cannot fly, then they will ride."

Kevan nodded in agreement. "A sound plan. But if the dead are already moving, we must be ready for an attack."

Tywin turned to his assembled officers, his voice steel. "Fortify the defenses. Increase patrols along every border, especially along the eastern front. If they seek to weaken us, we will show them that Casterly Rock is not so easily shaken."

The men nodded, murmuring their assent, but you could see the unease that lingered in their eyes.

"Burn the bodies of the ravens," Beric added. "And salt the ground where they fell."

A ripple of discomfort passed through the room.

Tywin arched a brow but gave a curt nod. "See it done."

The scout bowed deeply before stepping back, the doors swinging open as he exited.

The chamber remained still for a long moment, the weight of the news pressing down upon those present.

You felt Tywin’s gaze settle on you once more, his voice quieter when he spoke.

"If they are trying to silence us," he murmured, "then we must ensure we are not caught unaware."

You met his eyes, nodding solemnly. "We must be ready for what comes."

Tywin exhaled again, his mind already working through the next steps, but you could see it—the slight crease in his brow, the glint of calculation in his gaze. He knew, as well as you did, that this was only the beginning.

And the silence left in the wake of dead wings was a warning neither of you would ignore.

The icy wind howled through the battlements of Casterly Rock, sending a bitter chill through the stone fortress. The realm had been trapped in endless night for years, and yet the lions of the West still stood, defiant against the coming darkness.

Tywin Lannister walked the ramparts, his fur-lined cloak billowing behind him as he observed the defenses with keen, calculating eyes. The walls had been reinforced, the battlements lined with seasoned archers. Below, soldiers drilled relentlessly, their swords ringing through the cold air as they practiced for battles yet to come.

His mind was a storm of calculations, weighing provisions, manpower, and strategy. The dead were on the move—Beric’s reports had confirmed it. And now the very skies seemed against them. The realm was growing silent, cut off by unseen forces.

A sound of boots on stone made him turn slightly, though his hands remained clasped behind his back. Thoros of Myr approached, his red priest’s robes looking almost black in the dim torchlight. His eyes, usually filled with a flickering mirth, were grave.

"My lord," Thoros greeted, dipping his head slightly.

Tywin’s gaze returned to the men below. "What is it?"

Thoros hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. "I have heard whispers among your men," he said, his voice steady. "About what lies beneath us."

Tywin’s expression did not change. "You will have to be more specific, Myrman."

Thoros let out a quiet breath, his fingers brushing the pommel of his sword. "The mines," he said at last. "The place where the dragons have nested. They say there is Dragonglass down there."

Tywin’s eyes flickered briefly toward the Red Priest before looking back to the training soldiers below. "There is," he admitted, voice calm and measured. "Rich veins of it, deeper than even the gold we once extracted from these hills."

Thoros nodded slowly, as if confirming a long-held suspicion. "Then I must ask, my lord… why has it not been put to use?"

Tywin turned fully now, his green eyes cold. "We are not smiths of Valyria, nor do I have the luxury of wasting resources on superstition."

Thoros’s lips curled slightly in amusement, despite the grimness of their conversation. "And yet," he mused, "you have two dragons sleeping beneath your feet. You married a woman of dragon’s blood. Your own son, half a lion and half a dragon, was burned by fire and yet still lives."

Tywin’s jaw tightened. "Get to the point."

Thoros’s expression sobered. "The Night is here, Lord Tywin. This is no longer war as you have known it. Swords of steel and shields of gold will not hold against the dead. You need weapons of Dragonglass. You need men who know how to forge them. And you need them now."

Tywin remained silent for a long moment. The torchlight cast deep shadows on his face, making the angles of his features look carved from ice and stone.

"Have you ever worked Dragonglass before, priest?"

Thoros shifted, shaking his head. "No. But I have seen it wielded against the dead. I have seen it work. And there are blacksmiths among your men who could learn, if given the right materials."

Tywin tapped his fingers against the edge of the stone wall, thinking.

"You propose that I divert resources to mining Dragonglass instead of food and steel?"

"I propose that you do both," Thoros countered. "If the dead come for us, and our blades do nothing… then it will not matter how many soldiers you have. They will be butchered in the dark."

Silence hung between them. The weight of the decision was clear.

Finally, Tywin turned away from the wall, his mind made up.

"You will take a dozen men," he ordered. "Go into the mines, gather what you can. Find a blacksmith with enough sense to shape it into something useful."

Thoros dipped his head. "A wise choice, my lord."

Tywin narrowed his eyes. "It is a necessary one. We do not indulge in superstition here, but we will use every resource at our disposal to ensure the survival of this house and this kingdom."

Thoros smirked. "A man who does not believe in the Lord of Light… yet wages war like one blessed by fire."

Tywin’s lip curled in distaste. "I do not need the favor of your god to win wars, Myrman. I need strategy and steel."

"And Dragonglass," Thoros reminded him.

Tywin said nothing, merely turning on his heel and walking away, leaving Thoros standing alone beneath the flickering torchlight.

The priest sighed, looking up at the darkened sky.

"May your fire burn bright, Lord Tywin," he murmured to the night. "You’re going to need it."

The winds still howled against the stone walls of Casterly Rock one moon later, carrying whispers of death and ice from the North. The sky remained black, swallowed by the endless night, and the air carried a stillness that felt unnatural. Yet inside the fortress, preparations did not cease.

Damon Lannister stood beneath the great archway of the castle courtyard, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The boy no longer wore bandages, though the fresh scars across his left side were still red and raw, the skin stretched taut. A deep burn ran along his jaw, tugging his lips into an almost permanent sneer, and part of his left cheek bore the mark of dragonfire. His silver-gold hair had darkened near the scorched flesh, giving him an uneven appearance—half lion, half something else.

His gaze was fixed on the courtyard, where Lord Tywin Lannister stood overseeing his men. The old lion was draped in his crimson-and-gold cloak, his breastplate gleaming in the torchlight. He moved between his commanders with the effortless precision of a man who had spent a lifetime preparing for war.

Beside Damon, Ser Barristan Selmy stood, his expression unreadable as he too watched the Lord of Casterly Rock. The old knight had his arms crossed, his weathered face cast in thought.

"They say my father never loses," Damon murmured, his voice quiet but steady.

Barristan glanced at him. "Your father is one of the finest commanders the realm has ever seen."

Damon’s scarred lips pressed together. "Then why does he look worried?"

Barristan hesitated before answering. "Because war is not won by reputation alone, my lord. It is won by men. By steel and fire. And even the greatest of men can bleed."

Damon frowned, watching as Tywin turned to one of his bannermen, his expression hard and severe. His father rarely showed emotion—everything he did was deliberate, calculated. And yet there was something in the way he moved today that unsettled Damon.

"Do you think we'll win?" Damon asked.

Barristan exhaled through his nose. "I think your father will do whatever it takes to ensure his house survives."

That wasn’t an answer. Damon turned to the knight, his young face serious. "And what do you think?"

Barristan studied him for a long moment. "I think war changes men. Even the ones we believe unshakable."

Damon’s small hands clenched tighter. He did not like the sound of that.

His eyes returned to Tywin. His father was speaking with Kevan, the two brothers standing close in quiet discussion. Nearby, a group of Lannister knights fastened armor, their expressions grim. The war horns had not sounded, but everyone felt it.

"Can I fight?" Damon suddenly asked.

Barristan sighed. "You are too young for battle, my lord."

Damon scowled, fingers twitching. "I could ride Arraxes—"

"No." Barristan’s voice was firm, and for the first time, Damon turned to see the full weight of the old knight’s gaze upon him. "You nearly died trying to claim him."

Damon’s face burned, but not from the scars.

"I failed," he whispered.

"You are alive," Barristan corrected. "And that means you have another chance."

Damon swallowed. His throat felt tight. "Another chance for what?"

Barristan knelt before him, placing a steady hand on the boy’s unscarred shoulder.

"To grow. To learn. To be better than those who came before you."

Damon didn’t answer. He only looked past Barristan, watching his father command the army with unwavering certainty.

For the first time, he wondered if that certainty could break.

The castle halls of Casterly Rock were eerily quiet, the stone cold beneath your fingers as you traced the intricate carvings along the wall. The flames of the torches flickered in the stagnant air.

Varys stood at the window, his robes pooling around him like liquid silk, his ever-watchful gaze set upon the dark horizon beyond the sea. It had been a week since Tyrion had departed with the Unsullied. A week of silence.

"Do you think he'll make it back to Dragonstone in time?" you asked, breaking the hush between you. "Or will he return at all?"

Varys turned his head slightly, offering you a knowing smile, though it did little to comfort you.

"If there is one thing I have learned, my lady," he mused, "it is that your husband is not the only Lannister who does not simply roll over and die."

You exhaled through your nose, your arms crossing over your chest. "Tyrion is clever, but Daenerys… she is not patient."

"That is an understatement," Varys said dryly. "And yet, she waits. Because she has no other choice."

Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your sleeves.

"I feel helpless, Varys." The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them. You turned toward him fully, frustration clear in your voice. "Tywin keeps me caged within these walls, refusing to let me act. He will not let me fly north. Not even to Winterfell."

Varys did not speak, only listening as you continued.

"Jon could be hurt—again," you murmured, voice softer now. "And I cannot even see him. I raised him, Varys. He was mine in all the ways that mattered. And yet, I am to sit here, warm and safe, while he fights for his life in the cold."

You pressed your lips together, swallowing the lump forming in your throat.

Varys sighed, tilting his head as he regarded you.

"You are a queen in all but name," he said gently. "And queens are often prisoners of their own power."

You let out a hollow laugh. "That is something Tywin would say."

Varys hummed. "Yes, well, your husband is not entirely wrong. He keeps you here because he fears losing you. The same way he fears losing Damon and Maelor. He is not a man who gives himself freely, and yet you…" He gestured to you with a tilt of his head. "You are an exception."

You looked away, your heart twisting.

"He knows as well as I do that there is only so much time before the winter swallows us whole," you whispered. "And still, he waits."

Varys stepped closer, his voice low.

"He waits because he is not ready to surrender his belief that he can control what is coming," he said. "And because, despite everything, he still does not fully believe."

You turned back to him, meeting his unreadable gaze.

"But you do, don't you?" you asked.

Varys did not answer immediately.

"I have seen enough to know," he finally said, "that we have already waited too long."

A chill ran down your spine, despite the warmth of the castle.

Beyond the windows, the night stretched on, endless and unyielding.

Tywin stood near the hearth, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed into the crackling fire. The flames danced over his stern features, accentuating the hard lines of his face, his golden hair kissed with streaks of silver. You watched him from where you stood, near the edge of the large bed, your fingers ghosting over the embroidered patterns of the Lannister sigil on the bedding.

He finally spoke, his voice calm but weighted.

"All of the Westerlands will gather here," he stated. "We will make our stand at Casterly Rock." He turned toward you, his gaze steady. "I suspect the rest of the realm is preparing to do the same, holding to their strongholds and fortresses, waiting for what comes."

You exhaled slowly, nodding. "There is no safety anywhere else," you murmured. "Not in the open. Not anymore."

He took a measured step toward you, his expression unreadable. "The strength of the Rock will hold," he said, though there was an edge to his voice—one that you recognized as restrained concern.

You searched his face, your heart heavy. "And if it does not?"

He did not answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, cupping your jaw in his hand, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. "Then we make sure they pay the highest price for it."

A small, humorless chuckle escaped your lips. "That sounds like you."

He smirked, just barely. "It is me."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of his palm against your skin. When you opened them again, he was watching you, his green eyes searching.

"Stay close to me," he murmured.

You reached up, placing your hand over his. "Always."

He studied you for a long moment before his fingers slid into your hair, and then his lips were on yours—firm, assured, but not demanding. You melted into him, the tension of the world outside momentarily forgotten as his hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer.

The kiss deepened, slow yet unyielding, as his other hand skimmed down your spine, fingers tracing the silken fabric of your gown. Your hands found the front of his tunic, slipping beneath the thick fabric to touch the warmth of his skin.

A low sound escaped him as he lifted you slightly, walking you back toward the bed. His lips never left yours, even as his fingers worked at the ties of your dress, loosening the laces with practiced ease. The heavy material slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet, leaving you bared to the cool air of the chamber.

Tywin’s eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his hands firm against your waist as he guided you onto the bed. He followed after you, shedding his tunic with slow deliberation, the firelight casting shadows over the defined lines of his body.

"You are mine," he murmured, voice low and certain, as he leaned over you, his lips tracing a slow path down the column of your throat.

You arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair. "And you are mine."

His answer was a deep, lingering kiss as he settled between your thighs, and the night stretched on, wrapped in warmth and fire—while the endless dark loomed beyond the walls.

Damon lay on his back, staring at the ceiling of their shared chamber. The warmth of the castle, kept by the dragons beneath, was ever-present, but the cold outside seeped into the very bones of the Rock.

Beside him, Maelor was curled up under thick furs, his small frame barely making a dent in the massive bed. But he was not asleep. Damon could feel his little brother's eyes on him, even through the dark.

A moment passed before Maelor’s quiet voice broke the silence. "Damon?"

Damon blinked, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. "Hmm?"

There was a pause, hesitant, before Maelor whispered, "Do you think we’ll see the sun again?"

The words made something tighten in Damon's chest. He turned his head slightly, looking at his younger brother. Maelor’s wide eyes reflected the candlelight, his face a mixture of curiosity and quiet fear.

Damon exhaled slowly, shifting onto his side. "I don’t know," he admitted. "Maybe."

Maelor frowned. "But the maester said it’s been more then three years since it went away." His small fingers clutched the edge of his blanket. "And if the sun doesn’t come back… will the world stay like this forever?"

Damon hesitated. He wanted to tell Maelor that everything would be fine, that one day they would wake up, and the sun would be there, bright and golden in the sky. That things would go back to how they were in the stories their mother told them.

But he had learned enough to know that promises made in blind hope meant nothing.

Instead, he sighed and reached over, ruffling Maelor’s pale hair. "I don’t know, Maelor. But if the sun doesn’t come back, we’ll make do. We always do."

Maelor wrinkled his nose. "That’s what Father always says."

Damon smirked slightly. "Because it’s true."

Maelor was quiet for a moment, then mumbled, "I miss the sun."

Damon shifted closer, draping an arm protectively over his little brother. "Me too," he admitted.

The candle flickered, casting another wave of shadows against the walls. Outside, the wind howled through the cliffs of the Rock, a sound like distant wailing.

Maelor yawned and nuzzled closer into the warmth of his brother’s embrace. "Do you think Mother will make the sun come back?"

Damon stared at the ceiling again, his voice softer this time. "If anyone can, it’s her."

Maelor sighed, his breath warm against Damon’s shoulder. Slowly, his small body relaxed, his breathing evening out as sleep began to claim him.

Damon remained awake, however, listening to the wind and watching the dying light of the candle.

Damon allowed himself to wonder—what if the sun never returns?

Damon lay still in his bed, furs drawn high against the chill that seeped even into the warmest chambers of Casterly Rock. Maelor, curled up beside him, had long since drifted into peaceful slumber, his soft breathing barely audible beneath the constant howling of the wind outside.

But for Damon, sleep was not so kind.

It started with whispers.

At first, they were distant, like voices carried by the wind. He couldn't make out the words, only the hushed urgency behind them. Then, they grew closer, forming echoes in the dark—a conversation happening just beyond his reach.

Then he recognized them.

His mother’s voice.

“We should have had more time.”

A shadow of pain, an ache woven into her words.

Then his father’s voice, rough and unfamiliar with weakness, as though every word was a struggle.

“We did.” A pause. A breath that sounded almost like a swallowed cry. “We deserved more.”

The air around Damon thickened. He felt his heart pound against his ribs, a rising panic he couldn’t explain. The voices blurred, and suddenly the warmth of his furs was gone. The stone walls of his chamber faded, dissolving into a cold vastness that stretched beyond sight.

Snow fell, thick and heavy, swallowing sound and light alike. He stood in a frozen wasteland, his boots sinking into ice that cracked beneath his weight. The sky was black, the stars veiled by swirling frost.

Then he felt it.

The weight of a presence.

Damon turned, and his breath hitched.

The Other stood before him.

It was taller than any man he had ever seen, clad in armor made of something more ancient than steel, its surface shimmering with the cold glow of the frozen night. Its skin was a corpse’s pale blue, its features sharp and inhuman. And its eyes…

Blazing. Piercing. Blue as death itself.

They watched him.

Not with anger. Not with hunger.

With something worse.

With recognition.

Damon could not move. Could not breathe. His entire body had turned to ice.

The Other raised a hand. Long, pale fingers extended toward him, a slow, deliberate motion. Its mouth did not move, but Damon heard it speak.

A voice that was not a voice.

A whisper that scraped like a dagger of ice against bone.

“You know us.”

Damon’s breath came in shudders, his mind screaming at him to run, to move, to do something.

The Other took a step forward.

Damon felt the cold sink into his skin, past his flesh, into his bones.

The whispers rose in a deafening crescendo.

His father’s voice—"We deserved more."

His mother’s voice—"We should have had more time."

The Other's voice—"We will have time."

Damon screamed.

The world shattered.

He bolted upright in bed, his chest heaving, his throat raw.

The chamber was no longer silent. The wind roared outside, and somewhere deep beneath the castle, Viserion shrieked.

Maelor stirred beside him, startled awake.

"Damon?" his little brother mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "What's wrong?"

Damon gasped for breath, his body drenched in sweat despite the cold. He turned toward Maelor, his hands trembling.

For a moment, he thought he still saw them—those eyes. Watching. Waiting.

"Damon?" Maelor repeated, sitting up now, concern in his young face.

Damon clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe.

“It’s nothing,” he lied.

But the cold had followed him from the dream.

And he knew—it was not nothing.

[accio-victuuri]

my thoughts on xz’s spring festival debut and loch 📝

“Every role leaves something in me or takes something away from me. The character of Guo Jing is very powerful. His perseverance and persistence subtly gave me a lot of support and faith later on.” - xiao zhan

just a few disclaimers before i start:

1. i’m a cpf. this is a cpf blog but i also identify as xz and wyb’s career fan. meaning i care about the impact of their works to the general public. i’m tagging this post with xiao zhan on it cause it’s mainly about him, but if you already hate cpfs, then save yourself the trouble and scroll along. if you still read this and wanna say something, do it on your own blog.

2. this is not the place to compare xz and wyb’s spring festival bo debuts. nor is this a place for conspiracies.

3. i haven’t watched loch. i am not well versed in the whole lore behind it.

okay, now i can start 😅😅😅

As soon as XZ was announced to play the role of Guo Jing in Tsui Hark’s new movie — we all knew that it’s a great opportunity and at the same time, a huge responsibility. Legend of The Condor Heroes is a beloved story/franchise with multiple remakes so this movie had to bring something fresh to the audience. Tsui Hark is a celebrated director, but it’s not a guarantee of excellent results. I’m personally not familiar with his works ( yep, cause i’m uncultured lol ) so at the time i was okay, cool. However, i trusted the people both fans and the public who had mostly good things to say.

It was also pretty obvious that this movie will be screened during Spring Festival. It’s a no brainer. A big IP and movie like this should be released during the biggest box office day in China.

You also have Xiao Zhan. The god of wealth. A traffic star who brings in the money and is a talented Actor. He also has a solid and dedicated fanbase.

However, to those of us who are familiar with how the SF box-office works, fans alone cannot sustain it. The key is to capture the General public’s favor to grow the numbers and to get more cinemas to screen your Movie during the SF holiday. They call it “word of mouth” — when people give good reviews, more people will be encouraged to give it a try. If you are someone on SF holiday, you can probably watch 1-2 ( 3 at most possibly ) movies from the lineup. So it’s critical that LOCH will come up as something you would wanna watch based on what you read online ( or offline ) even if it’s not your 1st choice. I was hoping LOCH fans will come in, but i was also afraid cause they will be the most critical. They know the source material, they possibly watched all the iterations, so they will be the toughest to please.

The showing came later than we anticipated but it was fine. Editing and all the special effects always take up most of the time anyway. ✨

Weeks before the holiday, Nezha 2 announced it was gonna join the Spring Festival line up. This alone was a sure bet that this movie was gonna dominate the Box Office. no question. It’s a popular character and a family-friendly film. A first choice kind of movie if you will. There’s also Fengshen Part II with it’s own set of fans and considering how big the first movie earned, you would think they were gonna come back for Part II.

LOCH still prevailed tho, The pre-sale numbers dominated 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

in reality, these are mostly fans. which is not a bad thing at all. having LOCH at the top of the pre sales creates a good buzz around it. if you are someone thinking of what to watch, and don’t know much about the line up, it would be good to pick the most anticipated film 🫶🏼

(this photo does not represent the final numbers before opening)

I wanna add too that this year’s promotion for SF movies is next level. They have really done well in making sure that the public knows what movies are out there for them to watch.

The first day for a movie like LOCH with a big pre-sale will show a small rise because people who wanna see it on Day 1 mostly have bought it already. It was still steady tho, It broke 14 box office records which is mostly for the martial arts genre ✨

There are also mostly positive reviews about XZ’s performance like this one ( i will share more on my blog as they come ) and critics. Which is fine. we know it’s not gonna be all praises anyway. One review that went high up on HS was from Nanfeng daily, which is more of a discussion on the story’s flaws. I won’t share it here anymore, but the article was talking about the weak plot and how the two leads having basically no chemistry. I also looked into this other blogger ( who is pretty consistent with reviews and not just one who popped up lately ) one which I think fairly described the shortcomings —-

The film adapted the content of chapters 34-40 of the original novel. It is a story about the integration of the martial arts world into the post-war world, involving the love line of Guo Jing and Huang Rong + the national war line + the martial arts line. The main part of the martial arts line is the previous situation before the 34th chapter, which is the foreshadowing of love and war. It can't be less, nor more. The question that needs to be considered here is how to explain so many martial arts stories before, flashbacks? Arrange information in the lines? Connect events and insert back? Or is there a more clever method?

As a result, The Legend of the Condor Heroes didn't think so much, and just went straight to the "PPT". The first hour was a long, fragmented and incomplete account of the story, and the two leading actors took turns to read the narration to tell the previous story. This is not called The Legend of the Condor Heroes, but "Reading most of The Legend of the Condor Heroes in x minutes".

This is not enough. I don't know if Tsui Hark is taking revenge on someone. It's already a PPT, and the two protagonists are reading letters to each other in the air, with narration superimposed on narration. The audience is like a class in the first half.

AGAIN. I haven’t watched the movie but I think, i get where this going. It seems to me that the screenwriter should have done better. Xiao Zhan can only do so much hard work and bring in talent, but if the story is all over the place, it’s gonna be hard to market to a random viewer.

As of writing, LOCH is on HS and the topic is about the supposed deleted scenes. Getting rid of those didn’t help the flow of the story obviously. There is a post going around that talks about that I will partly share below:

In the original script, Guo Jing's expedition to the west and return to the south are closely integrated. The complete character arcs of all the main characters in the movie, the Western Expedition is also in the film.

The film has spent a lot of effort and resources to visualize Wu Mu's will, war, and animals. The essence of the play, this entire section was taken away for review, and a lot of the plot needs to be reviewed later. The dubbing of the previous part continues, and some memories and inserts of the previous part are added. The broadcast becomes even more fragmented, resulting in incoherent plots.

Guo Jing experienced the suffering of all living beings in the war, and Huang Rong's role of leading the Beggars' Gang is gone, and the early adaptations make it even more miserable.

Some of the character arcs are incomplete.

Then it goes to talk about the cuts ( censorship ) caused by sensitive subjects that may cause diplomacy issues.

We still have a few more days for things to take a turn and I will update this blog for that. LOCH can also run even beyond this season and get more Box Office numbers. I have to admit this post i’m making is premature cause we are only days in, but by experience, the early days will usually tell you what’s gonna happen moving forward.

( as of writing, nezha leads with 1.5 billion and loch at 500 million )

A few more points:

• The film was promoted heavily around Tsui Hark being the director. It didn’t live up to expectations and this is why some negative reviews are coming. This is such a big production with lots of moving parts and it seems like it didn’t all fit. Some antis are saying that XZ fans are “blaming” again but this time i guess it’s valid. i’m not saying XZ was perfect either, i’m sure there is room for improvement but he can’t fix the story.

• 🍤🍤🍤 were too confident. it’s not a secret that I have no love for these sea creatures but they were boasting a lot. AND NOW HERE WE ARE.

this has always been my frustration. the karma is getting them. but is also directly affecting XZ who worked hard on this film. who didn’t tell them to do these nasty things. i also see people who wouldn’t even consider LOCH cause at some point 🍤🍤🍤 were rude to their bias before.

it’s like, people wanna see the 🍤 fandom fail. not xz. just the nasty 🍤🍤🍤 who offended a lot of people online at some point.

my god. they really don’t deserve XZ 😭😭😭😭

• the issue of unfair screening times and slots are also being brought up by fans. all i have to say is, welcome to the spring festival clownery. welcome to the movie world, you all must be new here. it doesn’t mean people can’t complain and be frustrated. what i’m saying is LOCH isn’t the first movie to experience this. it happens every year. it happens every big film holiday. this is not the land of dramas where streaming and rating works. Movies are different. if there is anything I learned, it’s more vicious.

• some are also complaining about cinemas refunding their tickets saying there is technical issues. only to find out that they are replacing the showing for a different movie. this is so shady 💀 but again, it’s all about the money. T___T

• the theme of the movie is also not popular at the moment. TH was saying it’s time to bring back films & stories like this again. I found this article that explains my point:

Jin Yong is an idol of previous generations. In their eyes, he has gradually become a tall but distant statue. Tsui Hark's embrace of Jin Yong's IP again is an outlet for the film market to seek a breakthrough in the predicament. He tried to add mainstreaming, genre innovation, traffic stars and other means to revitalize Jin Yong's IP. There is a logical component, but there is also the possibility of success and risk.

The younger generation of audiences who are not Jin Yong fans have not actually broken off their understanding of the martial arts spirit, but they have chosen new works as carriers. For example, the audio novel "Snow Sword" labeled as "martial arts novel" has been played 2.92 billion times on a certain platform, which is far more than the number of audio books of Jin Yong's works. To some extent, the "traditional chivalry" written by Jin Yong is quite different from the "cool martial arts" that the new audience likes, which combines magic, games, and VR.

In fact, from the pre-sale results to the current box office results, it can be seen that the market and the audience still have high expectations and sufficient space for martial arts themes. The altruistic spirit and noble character naturally carried by the martial arts spirit will still make young people curious and have a strong desire to follow and imitate. For the filmmakers, the difficulty of the creative challenge is far greater than the market opportunity-the care and empathy for individual growth, the assumption of social responsibility, etc., still need the work to provide a new interpretation.

After Jin Yong passed away, someone said, "It's not the end of an era, it's the beginning of an era." What this sentence means is that the spirit of martial arts will never become obsolete, but it needs to be updated from time to time. In addition to constantly exploring new forms of expression of martial arts, we must also strive to find new soil for the spirit of martial arts to land. Only in this way can the spirit of martial arts remain high and vigorous in the hearts of generations.

• the goal for xz ( and wyb ) is to be popular and liked by the general public. having a solid solo fandom definitely has it perks but situations like this — they should have a good reputation. the movie/drama must also be exceptional for it to “get out of the circle”. a movie they make should not be “a movie for fans” but for everyone to enjoy.

Let me wrap this up with some good news tho, because international fans can make a difference. To the countries that are going to have screenings, you can contribute by watching and sharing your reviews! 💕 it’s the essence of fandom, to enjoy the content and be happy with the experience. it’s too easy to get caught up with the competitive nature of the SF movie season cause it’s a favorite topic on weibo, but it’s better to celebrate Xiao Zhan’s Spring Festival Movie debut 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

I have absolute faith in XZ’s strength as an actor and that time will tell us the truth. right now, the black propaganda is strong cause they have to manipulate public opinion really quick ( i’m not saying all negative reviews are antis but you know what i mean & viewers are expected to be extra critical of XZ cause of how famous he is! ). His talent will shine through. He will have more movies/dramas that are gonna be better than this and we are here to support him. Box-office numbers is not the measure of XZ’s success in playing Guo Jing. I haven’t seen it but knowing XZ’s care for the characters he plays, seeing the training he went through — he did him justice.

-END.

[clytemnestradidnothingwrong]

I have some thoughts on this article (and DEI in general) I'd like to write out, but I'll put it under a cut so it doesn't clog up anyone's feed.

"It was to be an obituary for ‘diversity, equity, and inclusion’ (DEI) a movement that ironically ended up serving as a cover for racism, homophobia, and sexism in the workplace, the media, and academics."

I usually keep my opinions on DEI to myself, because I know it's a controversial topic, and just by disagreeing with DEI concepts I get accused of being conservative, because none of y'all have working brain cells. But that right there sums up my issue with DEI. DEI, to me, is another case of good intentions gone bad.

"I was going to tell you about the time DEI was used to justify saying that turning up on time was the domain of white culture - no one else turns up on time, only white people, and expecting someone to be on time is racist."

It also led to math being deemed as racist, even though math was invented in Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, and fine tuned in the Middle East during the Islamic golden age (none of which are white or European). I even read somewhere that one American school district even made the case for not teaching Black students to speak English. I want someone who is pro-DEI to explain to me how that ISN'T racist.

"I was going to bring up Students vs. Harvard, the famous Supreme Court case that ended affirmative action in student admissions, after it was found that affirmative action was being used to racially discriminate on a systemic level against Asian Americans at elite universities."

DEI (and identity politics in general) have made Asians out to be like a subgroup of White people because their cultures strongly encourage academic prowess and achievement. I guess we forgot about the violent anti-Chinese sentiment in the late 19th/early 20th century and the Japanese concentration campus during WWII.

"I could have talked about the tech job fair for ‘women and non-binary people’ that was filled with men."

DEI and trans activism are interconnected, so I'm sorry, but all I can think of when I see or hear the words "diversity, equity, and inclusion" or "DEI" are the rights, language, spaces, and resources of women being given to men in shitty wigs.

"But everyone’s already said that. Underneath all the fancy verbiage of ‘DEI’, we had white women like Robin DeAngelo quite seriously arguing for segregated racial affinity groups and treating black people like aliens."

While I do think oppressed groups deserve to have their own spaces away from their oppressors, I've read horror stories of it being taken too far and essentially reinventing segregation. There's a difference between starting a school club for only Black students and putting Black students into a different class than their White peers.

"School districts in San Francisco argued that black children couldn’t do algebra, and that algebra was racist white supremacy, and therefore schools should be segregated."

Oh yeah, see, the "math is racist" thing I mentioned above.

"Gays and lesbians were either shoved back in the closet or fired if they objected to being told that sexuality was a spectrum and they could change to being heterosexual."

So this and the handing over women's everything to fetishistic men are why I hate DEI. I fucking hate it and this is why. DEI is misogyny and homophobia to me.

"Being racist towards Jews was now noble ‘anti-colonialism’, because a random synagogue in [insert country] caused the war in Gaza, so it deserved to be covered in swastikas."

What's going on over there is terrible. Both sides (the men) are committing horrific atrocities for no good reason. But the quick rise in antisemitism I've seen is concerning. How many times are we going to go through this before everyone learns their damn lesson? You want to pretend you're "progressive" and more enlightened than your parents/grandparents when antisemitism is almost as old as misogyny?

"It got used as a cover for straight white people to say the most ludicrously racist, sexist, and homophobic things imaginable and then be praised for being progressive for saying that black people are inherently less intelligent, the only way to fix racism is more racism, lesbians should suck dick, gay men should cut theirs off, women should put up with being raped in prison cells by male sex offenders and those evil money-grubbing Jews are secretly running the world. It turns out if you use the right canards from whoever your critical theory best boo is, it’s completely fine to be slightly to the right of Adolf Hitler."

I've always wanted DEI to be something that leveled the playing field for women and people of color. That gave us equal footing in the workforce and the government. We should be teaching women's, African, Latin American, and Asian history in schools. But instead, it turned into this.

"It meant that suddenly networks used by gays and lesbians to connect in the workplace were infiltrated by straight people."

I went to an online lesbian workshop where I saw the faces of over a dozen lesbians of all ages. We talked about our generational differences and what we can all do for each other. I kept my camera off because I was sobbing. I know one lesbian and she's my coworker, but she's a huge TRA, and I'm at the point where I can't stand to be around those type of people anymore. "Progressives" destroyed the gay and lesbian communities. They took our spaces, our resources, and even our words. They're the reason I'm all alone, that I'm too afraid to come out to anyone, that I've given up hope of ever meeting a woman. DEI is homophobia to me.

"If you objected to this, you would find a chat to human resources about not being inclusive scheduled in your Outlook calendar."

If you're lucky.

"It’s finding out everything is suddenly under the banner of diversity, equity and inclusion, and that consequently you’re the wrong sort of diversity: a lesbian with boundaries and an opinion, which for these people, is the worst thing ever."

As a lesbian, in theory, I check some of the "diversity" boxes. In practice, I don't, because I'm the "wrong" type of lesbian (a.k.a I don't take dick, even if the dick haver calls himself Misty).

"When you’re faced with this, you have to grin and bear it if you want to stay employable."

I have to distance myself from my coworkers because I will lose everything if they find out my politics do not align with theirs. I have to go in there every day and pretend I like these fake performers who would destroy my life if they knew how I really felt.

"Let me tell you what ‘DEI’ in the workplace is like as a gay person. You have to go in the closet."

I've been able to make my closet space comfortable, at least. It's quiet with lots of pillows and blankets.

"You cannot ardently defend your rights outside of work, and if you use a pseudonym to do so, you had to understand how to protect it, or you were going to be doxxed and lose your job."

I use fake names and don't give out any personal information and I'm still extremely paranoid.

"You turn up to the ‘LGBTI+’ work networks, hoping to meet gay colleagues, but there are none, and now Bob from Accounting is calling himself Lilith and wants to connect with you as a fellow lesbian."

Or Hetty Betty the Admin starts calling herself "queer" even though she's dating a man and has never once expressed interest in women.

"You don’t want to be used as a validation vending machine, or a prop in some straight person’s fantasy about ‘living the queer lifestyle’. You feel like a zoo exhibit at every ‘networking meeting’ for the ‘LGBTQIA+’, as you’re the only real deal in a room full of pretenders, and you stop engaging. You find Bob in the bathroom, attempting to lower his hairline. He tries to talk to you about lesbian girl gossip. You just wanted to sneakily watch five minutes of the Packers game on the toilet in peace, but now there’s a man in your bathroom being a creepy fuck and you’re not allowed to complain about him being there."

I avoid all things "LGBT+" like the plague, because that's what they are. Plagues of homophobic, ugly, smelly straight people.

"You listen to some woman with a husband and three kids at home telling you about how she’s a queer authority, and therefore is righteously delivering you inclusivity training. She’s queer because she dyed her hair purple and bought some Birkenstocks, but she’s never seen another woman’s pussy in her whole damn life, and you keep your damn mouth shut because you don’t want to be fucking fired."

This is my work life and I FUCKING HATE IT!

"If you were butch, suddenly there was a gaggle of straight women assuming you were like them - a gay trans man. When you were fairly clear about your lesbianism, it started to turn hostile. See, your average butch lesbian woman can pass as a man on first inspection without much effort. Their masculinity comes naturally, and some of the attraction for many femme women is the inherent contradiction, the masculine female, somehow still completely masculine even when the adornments come off and reveal the female body underneath.

This provokes jealousy - you become an object of envy and hatred - to the woman pretending to be a man, you are doing what she wants to do - perform masculinity - not only effortlessly, but fully embracing your womanhood while doing so. To the man pretending to be a woman, you remind him of what he will never be, no matter how hard he tries, because you are living proof that womanhood has nothing to do with whatever kind of drag society pronounces as ‘feminine’. Living proof of the old gay maxim that you’re born naked, the rest is drag, you are a walking, talking argument against the veracity of trans ideology. Simply by existing, you undermine their arguments. Thus you must be bullied, if not into hating your own body, and into transition, you must be dehumanized, debanked, unemployed, a pariah, excluded, branded with scarlet letters, held aloft as a great evil. Diversity, equity, and inclusion does not apply for women like you, who really should just transition so we’d all stop being confused."

The medicalization of gender non-conformity is one of the worst aspects of DEI and "progressives" in general. The audacity of these monsters to sit there with fake smiles on their ugly faces as they act like they're morally superior and enlightened to everyone around them, only to go full on 1950s conservatives the second they see a woman with short hair.

"It does not matter if you kowtow or if you say the right words in order to stay employed. The jealousy, the envy, the simmering hatred of one who contradicts their entire belief system simply by existing, that’s something that knows no bounds. You are living wrongthink no matter how many times you respect the pronoun pin, and they will try their best to destroy you in any way they can."

They hide this monstrous face behind buzzwords and fake smiles. Once you see past the facade these self-proclaimed "progressives" have built, you can never look at them the same. I count my lucky stars every day that, for the most part, nobody has shoved their politics too much down my throat, and mostly accept that I don't talk about anything political at work. How much longer this will last, though, I do not know.

"Now anyone who was counted as ‘diversity, equity and inclusion’ faces the accusation that they were only hired based on their identity characteristic and are by default assumed to be incompetent."

This is where the authoress and I may disagree, because I haven't seen much evidence of the so-called "DEI hires". I don't believe this is DEI's biggest problem. In all the search committees I've been on, I've seen this happen once, and it certainly wasn't for a woman or a person of color. It was for a veteran. Some states require you to interview veterans if they apply, regardless of their qualifications. I once had to interview an extremely unqualified veteran for a position in my department. Where's the uproar for that?

"It says it’s ‘LGBTQI+ inclusive’, but all the gay characters ring hollow - then you realize that if you were playing as the opposite sex, they’d all be heterosexual. That’s not really representation, you think. It means there are no actual gay characters in this video game. A playersexual character is not a homosexual character."

Gay and lesbian representation in media is so bad that I don't want it anymore, and I have progressives - not conservatives - to thank for that.

"You try playing something else. All the options to make your character look like you are gated behind calling your character a male, even if they have a ‘body type 2’. You need to select the correct pronouns to wear the leather jacket and if you choose to do so, the game offers to give your avatar ‘top surgery scars’."

Not even that sometimes. One of my favorite video games has all the characters refer to you as "they", regardless of the sex your character is, but you can still tell they intended for the PC to be male, even when trying to be "inclusive" (though in my opinion, it was more the laziness of not wanting to pay voice actors to say a line twice then a desire to be "woke").

"If you say something, suddenly you’re a right-wing chud, not a lesbian who wants genuine representation that was written by an actual lesbian, not a straight man in a dress playing pretend. You think, maybe it’s a corporate thing, these DEI games. You go looking for indie games, but searching ‘lesbian’ on Itch.io brings up two pages of autogynephilic fetish porn games about being a ‘gay mess’. Every time you hear about a ‘lesbian creator’ on social media, you look them up only to find a man staring back at you."

I despise "lesbian" media. DESPISE IT. I know liberals are stupid, so they can't comprehend that it's not right-wing to want genuine representation. And it's either a creepy man with the autogynesmile or a straight woman LARPing as "sapphic" (another term I fucking HATE).

"You try finding other people who are equally incensed about this, but it turns out the most prominent critics are the actual right-wing chuds."

That's my situation. The only ones willing to hear me out and not ostracize and punish me are right wingers. We live in the Twilight Zone now.

"The real problem with all of this, according to them, is that there’s actually women, black people, and homosexuals in media to start with. That’s all woke nonsense, and we need to return to only having straight white men in all forms of media, the workplace, and everything else, before all this woke nonsense took hold and ruined everything with ‘DEI pandering’."

And that's usually where my conversations with them end. It's nice to be able to vent about trans bullshit, but their reasons for hating it are usually so different then mine, so I end up still feeling alone, unheard, and depressed.

"That straight white men, regardless of what they call themselves, are implementing all of this 'forced diversity' or benefiting the most from the hallowed DEI status of 'transgender' is beside the point. Women and minority gamers didn’t ask for ‘body type 2’, they asked for the opportunity to play protagonists that were like them. That’s not ‘DEI pandering’. That’s asking for the same opportunities that their white male counterparts have."

It's true. It's male-driven. Even the annoying as hell diehard female DEI supporters are only this way because they've been told it's the "kind" and "progressive" thing to do.

"It’s now at the point that you know that anything that openly advertises how safe it is for ‘LGBTQI+’, or how inclusive it is, is by default something that will be actively homophobic. Whether it’s a workplace, a retail store, a political party, a film, a video game, a book, a bar."

Yup. I see that ugly "Progress Flag", I know the place is crawling with homophobes. I see any version of that stupid fucking acronym, I steer clear, because it's not for me, it's for straight people.

"You know the more they preach how inclusive they are, the more sexist, homophobic and racist they are in reality. This disease has made itself present in every single cultural aspect of modern life."

Yes, holy shit! It's something I've observed over and over again. I've noticed so many times that the ones who go on and on about being kind are usually the worst people you'll ever have the misfortune of meeting. To quote the Suffragists, "deeds, not words". Those who are actually kind and inclusive don't feel the need to talk about how kind and inclusive they are.

"There is no venue for liberal criticism of any of this, let alone gay criticism. You’re either totally on board with DEI or a drag queen on TV is a harbinger of the pedophile apocalypse."

I hate the binary thinking so much. Your made up "genders" can be "nuanced" or "complex", but political beliefs can't?

"You face the Sophie’s Choice between insidious homophobia, or outright homophobia."

Honestly, I'll take "ok that you're gay just don't talk about it" homophobic from conservatives over "unlearn your genital fetish you gross TERF" homophobia from liberals any day.

"Your cultural world gets smaller, because mass culture has decided it doesn’t want people like you in it, because if you’re a homosexual with boundaries, you’re a bigot. You spend your working life walking on eggshells around Bob from Accounting, especially when he turns up to work dressed like a hooker."

And Hetty Betty from Admin who preaches tolerance while being completely intolerant of anyone who doesn't think like her.

"and paint women and racial minorities as inherently under qualified and incompetent compared to their straight white male colleagues who, in their minds, only got where they were on pure merit."

Talk about a lack of self-awareness (the White men, not the authoress).

"No woman or black person or gay person or someone who’s all three ever got to a high position based on their own merit, instead they got there because of ‘diversity, equity, and inclusion’. They were quota hires. ‘DEI hires’. They’re not real people, real workers, who worked hard to get where they are. It was just handed to them based on their identity. No one wants to be tarred with that brush, but that’s the brush the modern shitlib has successfully tarred every minority group under the sun with. Fuck you."

I hate hearing conservatives yap on about "DEI hires". Quotas are actually an effective way to get women and racial minorities hired. And even if the woman or person of color isn't 100% qualified, so what? Most things can be taught, and so many unqualified white men get hired all the damn time. Everyone's priorities are so fucked.

"In the end, a bunch of privileged and rich straight white people ruined culture, destroyed the gay community, ruined people’s lives, and completely destroyed affirmative action as a concept, all to make themselves feel better. The only thing that’s been achieved is reinforcing old bigotries and setting women and minorities back twenty years. That is the lasting legacy of ‘diversity, equity, and inclusion’."

And that, to those of you who actually decided to read my ramblings, is my problem with the Left and with their initiatives like DEI. They don't actually care about anyone but themselves. They only say they want to help the marginalized to make themselves look good. Women, people of color, gays, the poor - we are nothing but props to them. Pawns to use in their games against the right. I realized this a few years ago, and my god, I can still feel the knife in my back. It makes me want to lose all hope. I can see it in every "caring" action my "woke" coworkers take.

I sit there and listen to them try so hard to make themselves out to be so humble and selfless in their desire to help others, all the while patting themselves and each other on the backs to an insufferable degree, acting like they've saved the world. It comes off as so insincere. I don't even speak at these meetings anymore, because I want my actions to speak for me. Why don't they?

"Let me know when this is all over, and I can go back to being a lesbian at work, and I can play video games as a woman instead of a Body Type 2, and lesbian conversion movies stop being ‘great queer representation.’"

We were there once. It was for a short time, but we were there. We could bring it back again, if we really tried. Maybe someday I'll be proud to be a lesbian again.

Now that DEI has been sent off to DIE, an obituary to ten years of closeted hell.

[chdarling]

Its a curse. No matter what story I read I always have to compare it to yours. Your writing and characterization is just perfect especially your Lily and James. I loved how you made James re-think his actions and when he questioned himself about being a bad person. Lily is often either a goody-goody or the biggest bitch alive. It really got me thinking when you said that shes kind but not nice. I am so excited for Lilys reaction when she finds out that the dog she revealed her secrets to is actually Sirius omg 🫶🫶🫶

I know its not a common question but when and where do you write? Do you have like your writing place or do you just begin if you have an idea. And another: Have you written many later scenes without writing the earlier ones?

Thank you so much 🥺❤️

I write in a lot of places!

I have my insane power user desktop set up (I have 4 monitors inherited from different jobs that thought it was less expensive to just give them to me when I quit rather than have me ship them back lol), but tragically this space has been spiritually tainted by remote work so I mostly only use it for plotting purposes when I need multiple screens. (I look like a serious business hacker gal with all my screens until you zoom in and see they’re all about my blorbos).

I’m not at Terry Pratchett levels yet but this is the vibe:

I also have a little secretary desk in my living room and this is where I tend to write the most actual prose. Unplug the Internet, close everything except my scrivener doc, sit in the slightly uncomfortable dining chair my kitten has chewed to bits, and disappear from the world for hours. This is why I have back pain. :)

I also write on my phone a lot, usually when walking. I will 100% stop in the middle of the sidewalk (or politely step aside if it’s crowded, I’m not a monster) and hash out a full scene of dialogue if it arrives while I’m commuting, which it often does. Yes I have been late to work this way on more than one occasion haha.

As far as the when, that varies. During a good, fruitful writing season, it’s any moment I can get. During periods of burnout and block (which tragically I am weathering right now), I have to make a concerted effort. I have made it a habit to write every day first thing in the morning (well, after feeding the cats, I’m not a monster). These days it’s mostly just a free write/brain dump of everything in my head, but hey, it’s words. During better writing times, I have been known to crank out an entire chapter before work 😭

And to your final question, oh yes, I write totally out of order. I have more of TLE4 written than I do TLE3 haha. But I find this fun because then I get to sneak in all sorts of foreshadowing nonsense. 😈

Thanks for the kind words and fun questions!

[louis-the-french-one]

Smosh Cast X GN Reader / Damien Haas X GN Reader

Type: funny/fluff

Relationship: Friends/Coworkers

Summary: Reader is a cast member at Smosh and it's their time to be the host of 'What would (blank) do?"

Use of they/them pronouns for reader

Reader is around 28

1.556 words

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Welcome everyone to what would [reader] do! The show where I will be reading some questions, give my honest answer and then my friends will try to guess that answer.” [reader] presents from their clearest voice, looking at the camera in front of them.

Behind the camera Emily the director gives them a sign to continue longer with the intro. The young cast member stops nervously and thinks for a few seconds before chuckling and remembering. “And the friends in question here today are Angela, Tommy and Damien Haas.” Emily nods.

“Why does Damien gets to have a last name and not us? That’s not fair!” Angela interjects.

“With me are Angela Giarra-” They try to start again.

“Oh no no it’s fine, don’t bother.” Angela turns to look away from [reader], faking being hurt.

“But that’s true, why don’t I get a last name? Is it because I’m gay?” Suddenly says Tommy, seeing the situation as the perfect time to crack his first joke.

All cast members crack up laughing, Angela turning back to face her friends. The youngest already having their face in their hands realising how chaotic this shoot is going to go.

“Well, it’s okay, we can’t all be [reader]’s favourite.” Damien let’s out grinning at Angela and Tommy while fidgeting with his pen.

“Yeah exactly you both will get a last name when you get to Damien’s level.” [reader] jumps in on the joke, entering a serious composure not daring looking at their friends. Not wanting to linger on the thought that the joke may hold some truth. “Anyway, time for the first question.”

They pick up the first card. “Congratulations, I have won the lottery, what do I do with my winnings?” [reader] says with an excited tone.

The young cast member holds the pen in their hand, tapping it on the table trying to think of the answer. Damien holds up his mini white board, thinks for a few seconds then glances toward [reader] and starts to write down his answer. Angela is chuckling to herself writing.

“So the lottery is like, millions right, like a LOT right” asks Tommy.

“Yeah, basically if I had a tone of money, what would I do?” answers [reader].

“Okay, okay.” Nods Tommy.

After a bit, when everyone is done writing, the director tells [reader] to start asking for the answers.

“Okayyy, um… Angela I heard you chuckling, what did you write?”

Angela flips her board. On it is written ‘PLUSHIES’.

“Plushies?” Asks [reader].

“no, it’s PLUSHIES. I think you would buy lots of plushies. Or like you know the big ones they have in fairs? I think if you had money you’d by TONS of them. I was picturing you with all those giants plushies in your small apartment and the image made me laugh. Just, let’s just go to someone else’s answer.” She shakes her head and starts wiping her board.

“NO, no, that’s good I do really like plushies. But I do already have big ones at home I don’t need to win the lottery to spend money irresponsibly.” They pan at the camera.

“Oh yeah, don’t you have that huge shark one?” Damien asks.

“Yeah I do actually. I love fishes and ocean creatures.”

“Saaaame” nods Damien.

“Well if you two nerds are done I would like to give MY answer.” Tommy says catching everyone attention.

“Oh yeah, of course, what’s your answer?”

“I said…” Tommy reveals his board. “Buy a private island. You like your alone time. You like vacations. I think you’d like to have a private island of your own to kinda isolate and recharge your battery when you want it AND do that somewhere that feels like a vacation.”

“That’s good I do love to get away from people.” They laugh. “Damien?”

“Well, I was, a little bit more reasonable than the two people on my right. Because I know you to be a responsible adult.” Damien starts to explain, [reader] makes a face questioning their ‘responsible nature’. “So I wrote…” He flips his board. “Buy a nice farm to live on with a lot of animals and pets. AND you know farms are in the country side, and you how the country side is, isolated” Damien looks at [reader] and raises his eyebrows as to insist on his argument.

“Oooooooh I like that. I really like that. ALL of you guys came up with good answers, but the TRUE answer is…” They reveal what they have written down. “Buy a house! The LA house market is killing me and all I want is to be able to live in peace in a house that I own.”

“Bullshit.” Interjects Angela. “You win the lottery and simple buy a house?”

“Do you know the price of a house in LA Angela?” Damien jokes. She simply shakes her head.

“So me and Damien are close, you did want to buy a place to live.” Tommy says.

“Yes, I did. Damien is a little closer to my answer though. A private Island? I don’t have the energy to manage that. A small farm, maybe. 2 points for Damien and 1 point for Tommy.”

“Urgh this is going to be difficult.” Complains Angela, head on the table. [reader] laughs as Tommy pats her back.

The shoot continues smoothly. Angela manages to get a few points but Damien stays in the lead.

“And now for our final question: If I didn’t work at Smosh, what would I be doing? Like If I wasn’t an actor what would my job be?” They read and starts writing almost immediately. “I feel like this is very easy, if you guys listen to me when I talk, I’m sure I’ve said it at some point.”

“Yup, I know exactly what the answer is, we’ve talk about this before.” Damien directly says and writes down his answer.

“Oh fuck off of course you know the answer. I’mma just write something funny I ain’t winning anyway.” Groans Angela.

“You never know, I think it could be anyone’s game”. [reader] says.

Tommy looks at them puzzled. “I, think… you have said something to me about this before. I’m gonna go with my gut. And if it’s not your answer I think it should be anyway.”

“Is this how it’s spelled?” Angela whispers to Tommy.

“Nooooo.” he shakes his head. Everyone chuckles.

After waiting for Angela to spell her answer correctly [reader] starts again. “If everyone is finished, I’m curious Tommy what did you write?”.

“I said a Chef.” He flips his board. “I know you love to cook, and I’ve had some of your food and it’s delicious. So I think you would be a Chef.”

“You do cook an amazing Lasagna.” Damien says out loud, perhaps unwillingly.

“Why thank you. I do like cooking. Angela?”

“I think you would be the person that smells candles and rates them for companies. I tried to give it a name but I couldn’t spell odorologist or whatever.”

“Whaat? Why candles?”

“Cause you got the face of a candle smeller. You look like you LOVE candles.”

“I don’t know if I should offended.” They laughed. “And finally, Damien, if you’re sure of yourself, let’s flip our boards at the same time. On three: one, two, three!”

They both flip their boards, looking into each others eyes. They stay a second before looking down seeing that they had the same answer. Their jaw drop simultaneously.

“YAyyyy.” Exclaims Damien.

“And I think that officially makes Damien our winner of what would [reader] do!”

“I mean, who’s surprised, no one. I got like two questions correct and he got like 10” Angela says.

“And that is why you’re not the favourite.” Damien laughs.

“Come on guys, you know I love you all. Even Tommy, I have nothing against homosexuals. Anyway, that concludes our video.” They laugh. “If you liked it and would like to watch another one, two of our videos should pop up on your screen. Good bye!” All the cast members wave at the camera and Emily yells cut.

“Good game guys, I am flattered that you know me.” The young actor says.

“Of course we do” Tommy says.

“I swear I know you I just can’t remember details.” Angela explains a bit stressed.

“It’s okay Ange your answers were very funny.”

The cast starts getting up, lunch should be called soon.

“Can’t believe you know me so well.” [reader] says to Damien who is now standing close next to them.

“I have a good memory. And I like knowing stuff about you.”

The two locks eyes and the younger is quick to look at the ground and chuckle.

“Well I think we should head for lunch. Want to eat with me?”

“With pleasure.”

They walk side by side towards to kitchen starting a new conversation. Occasionally locking eyes when their fingers brush and they realise they may be standing a little bit too close for coworkers. Standing too close for just friends…

The end.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A.N: Wrote this for a friend and thought I would share!

English is not my first language.

[cloverapple]

Thank you for posting! Reading your stuff is a lot of help, and your shifting method is awesome sauce i've been using it for the past two nights (the reasons for why I didn't shift i'm self-aware of and will proceed accordingly, not writing it down here because i feel like it's unneccesarry and don't think you can say much abt it) what I was curious if you could give advice about is: fear of shifting? Don't get me wrong i really want to shift. Been on this journey for years for a reason! And i think soon i'll finally do it, as i've never been as consistent, putting in actual work, as I am and as I do now. Last night, when body was truly asleep and it was just only me, I did my thing trying to shift. And suddenly this weight settled on me, as if the world was too big and too heavy, and i immediately thought "I can't do this" and rolled over with the decision to just simply sleep. Today i talked with a friend about this, and he said it's probably "a fear of shifting, a fear of responsibility", and honestly I agree with this take. Of course I will try again tonight, and will keep doing so until I can push through this feeling and actually shift, but i was wondering if you had a word of advice? Thank you <3

• The way I see the fear of shifting is like: that fear you felt right before the shift wasn’t a failure, it was a sign you were right there.

• Think about it: why would your mind suddenly scream "I can’t do this!" and slam the brakes when you were on the edge of what you’ve been working toward? It’s because, on some level, your subconscious knew shifting was about to happen.

• It accepted it as real, as possible, and that’s exactly when the fear kicked in. That fear isn’t about shifting being impossible, it’s your mind clinging to the familiar, trying to protect you from stepping into something that it's your current reality. Our brains are wired to favor what we know, even if what we know isn’t what we want. It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff with a parachute—you know the parachute will open, but the ground beneath your feet still feels safer.

• So, no, you didn’t fail. Don’t look at that fear as a blockage because it’s not. It’s a precedent to progress, a signpost that you're on the brink of success. Fear is just your mind’s way of saying, "This is real."

To work through it: First, understand that fear is just another form of anxiety—and anxiety, at its core, is the same physiological response as excitement. The only difference is the story you tell yourself about it. When you feel that fear creeping in during the day, don’t shove it down. Let yourself feel it, but flip the script. Visualize the moments you’re genuinely excited for in your DR. Happy, comforting, exciting things that make you want to shift. Feel how easily that fear morphs into anticipation. Emotions are malleable, and once you start associating that tension with excitement instead of dread, you’ll find it easier to move forward.

What you really need to do if fear is your issue, is let go. Stop putting shifting on this towering pedestal. Yes, it’s amazing, but it’s also normal. The more you treat it like this huge, mystical event, the more your mind will see it as something to fear. Shift your perspective. Talk about it like it’s just another part of your day, think of it as routine, affirm it as something natural. Trick your brain into seeing shifting as regular and unexciting, and it’ll stop resisting. Because at the end of the day, shifting isn’t some impossible feat. It’s just you becoming aware of another space you already belong in.

• But let’s go even deeper, to stop that freeze response from hijacking you the next time you’re at the doorway to your shift. We’re going to eliminate the fear before it even has a chance to rise. (yes I'm giving you optional homework because I'm the worst 😁)

The "Normalize Your DR" Exercise

1. Document Your CR Routine. Write down your current daily schedule in your CR. What time you wake up, eat, work, study, relax, everything. Create a schedule.

2. Now create a parallel schedule for your DR. You could do this for the day you're going to wake up in your DR, or next day, depends on what you scripted and feels better for you. What are you doing at each hour? How does your morning routine look? Who do you see? Where are you?

3. Sync CR Time with DR Time. Match your CR schedule to your DR schedule. For every hour in your day, mentally check in with what you’d be doing in your DR at that exact time. This repetitive syncing normalizes your DR in your mind. It becomes part of your routine, not some distant, unreachable dream that your mind fears shifting to.

4. Visualize Throughout the Day. As you go through your CR, take moments to pause and visualize your DR. The more your mind gets used to the idea of being in your DR, the less foreign—and therefore less scary—it becomes.

I hope you can take something from this. Good luck! 💚🩷🫂

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

do you have any Bible study recs that could help me understand the Bible more?

Hate to be a bummer but I don’t really use Bible study stuff all that much really! I live with a highly educated theologian and any and all questions i have I bring to him. We have long, deep discussions about theology every week, sometimes every day. That IS my Bible study. And I know a lot about the Bible from him being my dad my whole life- by the time I was eight I could give you an entire Gospel message presentation (and actually personally understood it, even though I hadn’t personally chosen to commit my life to Him yet) and could tell you the contents of every book in the Bible, being able to tell the entire history of that book from creation to the early church (and then since he’s also a history nerd, lots more from then until modern times). And then since I have gotten saved, all of that exploded even more and I learned to apply my already-existing book smarts to a Holy Spirit-empowered personal deep passion for theology.

I say this not to try and flex, but to just show I’ve had an unusual Biblical education and in my day to day don’t really read Bible studies along with the Word, because from the studies I see many of those are for beginners and I just really do already know those things. So I don’t read them now. I’m not trying to be prideful at all, I’m just stating this fact.

So I really and truly don’t know what books and studies I would point beginners towards, I’m sorry. If it helps, I think that Timothy Keller was an incredible expositional preacher and author, CS Lewis was utterly incredible and Mere Christianity will deepen your faith, but a lot of the other scholars I use, like RC Sproul, aren’t the best when you’re first starting out, they are more ‘advanced’. You do have to have a familiarity with something like the book of Romans to pretty solid extent before you pull out his commentary on it. And in reading the Bible every day, I was just taught how to read the Bible when I was young, and what language it uses and a lot of historical context and what it means and all that… so I just truly don’t know how to teach that to someone else, or offer resources that would teach someone else to read this incredible book.

And all of this is a giant reason I want to go to seminary, actually. I need to know more. I do want to learn how to teach this and how to learn more myself that I don’t about the study of the Bible that you only can on that challenging of a level. I’m still learning so so much now, obviously, God constantly teaches me things all the time, but with where I’m at in my walk with Him, through the Word and in prayer He’s teaching me a lot more about myself and my flaws and what I need to work on as a person and having the Bible reflect that back at me, rather than what the Bible means in the first place.

[myosotispalustris]

I would really like to hear some black people talk about this. I know on an intuitive level that this is fucked up and weird, but I don’t really have the right language. Based on some YouTube videos, I think I’m not the only white person who knows something fucked up is happening, but doesn’t really have the words for it.

My best attempt at putting words to what the “my bones know this is fucked up” feeling is:

1) I know from the Severance podcast that the actor, Tramell Tillman, asked Ben Stiller and the Writer some questions, like if Milchick knows that he is black. And frankly, in my read on it, I don’t think Ben Stiller really knew the answer, or maybe even what the question is really asking. But I also think he probably let Tramell decide the answer for himself.

I couldn’t read Milchick’s feelings about himself. I don’t know if he had feeling about what being black means before. But I can see that the board has made it obvious that they know he’s black…

…they’re highlighting “we know you’re different” and it’s….. menacing.

I don’t think Milchick wanted to be told that either. Like, Tramell says the character is an ambitious, sincere believer, and company man. So he probably wants to belong, and in those shoes, I don’t think I’d like having the ways I’m different from the in-group highlighted.

I don’t know if feels similar to if they were like, “we saw you have freckles, so we made Kier have freckles so you wouldn’t feel so weird and different about your freckles. You’re so different that we made all these paintings specifically depicting Kier with freckles. Like so many paintings with freckles. Isn’t it nice how we are acknowledging you’re different and not actually like us? Like so different, we think you need a different version of god about it.”

Except historically freckles don’t have all the same baggage, so there are probably a lot of missing layers.

(And also they made Black Kier have blue eyes which is… subverting the stated message? It’s WEIRD. It feels bad. “Even when we ‘include’ you, you can’t really be you” or something.)

natalie said "inclusively re-canonicalized" and "help you see yourself in keir" and i paused, skipped back 10 seconds to hear it again, paused again. processed. went "black kier??? they painted black kier??? no. maybe something else. but they are a fucked up cult. black kier???" then played. lo and behold. black kier. i screamed. alarmed ginger. truly just stared wide eyed at the paintings and then milchick and natalie's reactions. AHHHHHHH

[someguywriting]

People are sleeping on the amazingness of WORD COUNTER DOT NET as a writing tool Don't have the patience to log into google? Use word counter! Don't wanna load up word? Use word counter! Want an accurate count of your words, characters and reading level? Use word counter!

[designernishiki]

it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now

[demigod-of-the-agni]

Spider-Man India, but... where from India?

A SUPER long post featuring talks of: cultural identity, characterisation, the caste system, and what makes Spider-Man Spider-Man.

I’m prefacing this by saying that I am a second-generation immigrant. I was born in Australia, but my cultural background is from South India. My experiences with what it means to be “Indian” is going to be very different from the experiences of those who are born and brought up in India.

If you, reader, want to add anything, please reblog and add your thoughts. This is meant to be a post open for discussion — the more interaction we get, the better we become aware of these nuances.

So I made this poll asking folks to pick a region of India where I would draw Pavitr Prabhakar in their cultural wear. This idea had been on my mind for a long while now, as I had been inspired by Annie Hazarika’s Northeastern Spidey artwork in the wake of ATSV’s release, but never got the time to actually do it until now. I wanted to get a little interactive and made the poll so I could have people choose which of the different regions — North, Northeast, Central, East, West, South — to do first.

The outcome was not what I expected. As you can see, out of 83 votes:

THE RESULTS

South India takes up almost half of all votes (44.6%), followed by Northeast and Central (both 14.5%) and then East (13.3%). In all my life growing up, support towards or even just the awareness of South India was pretty low. Despite this being a very contained poll, why would nearly half of all voters pick South India in favour of other popular choices like Central or North India?

Then I thought about the layout of the poll: Title, Options, Context.

Title: "Tell us who you want to see…"

Options: North, Northeast, Central, East, West, South

Context: I want to make art of the boy again

At first I thought: ah geez. this is my fault. I didn't make the poll clear enough. do they think I want them to figure out where Pavitr came from? That's not what I wanted, maybe I should have added the context before the options.

Then I thought: ah geez. is it my fault for people not reading the entire damn thing before clicking a button? That's pretty stupid.

But regardless, the thought did prompt a line of thinking I know many of us desi folk have been considering since Spider-Man India was first conceived — or, at least, since the announcement that he was going to appear in ATSV. Hell, even I thought of it:

Where did Spider-Man India come from?

FROM A CULTURALLY DIVERSE INDIA

As we know, India is so culturally diverse, and no doubt ATSV creators had to take that into account. Because the ORIGINAL Spider-Man India came from Mumbai — most likely because Mumbai and Manhattan both started with the same letter.

But going beyond that, it’s also because Mumbai is one of the most recognisable cities in India - it’s also known as Bombay. It’s where Bollywood films are shot. It’s where superstar Hindi actors and actresses show up. Mumbai is synonymous with India in that regard, because the easiest way Western countries can interact with Indian culture is through BOLLYWOOD, through HINDI FILMS, through MUMBAI. Suddenly, India is Mumbai, India is a Hindi-only country, India is just this isolated thing we see through an infinitely narrow lens.

We’ve gotten a little better in recent years, but boy I will tell you how uncomfortable I’ve gotten when people (yes, even desi people) come up to me and tell me, Oh, you’re Indian right? Can you speak Hindi? Why don’t you speak Hindi? You’re not Indian if you don’t speak Hindi, that’s India’s national language!

I have been — still am — so afraid of telling people that I don’t speak Hindi, that I’m Tamil, that I don’t care that Hindi is India’s “national” language (it’s an administrative language, Kavin, get your fucking facts right). It’s weird, it’s isolating, and it has made me feel like I wasn’t “Indian” enough to be accepted into the group of “Indian” people.

So I am thankful that ATSV went out of their way to integrate as much variety of Indian culture into the Mumbattan sequence. Maybe that way, the younger generation of desi folk won’t feel so isolated, and that younger Western people will be more open to learning about all these cultural differences within such a vast country.

BUT WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH SPIDER-MAN INDIA?

Everything, actually. There’s a thing called supremacy. You might have heard of it. We all engaged with it at some point, and if you are Indian, no matter where you live, it is inescapable.

It happens the moment you are born — who your family is, where you are born, the language you speak, the colour of your skin; these will be bound to you for life, and it is nigh impossible to break down the stereotypes associated with them.

Certain ethnic groups will be more favourable than others (Centrals, and thus their cultures, will always be favoured over than Souths, as an example) and the same can be said for social groups (Brahmins are more likely to secure influential roles in politics or other areas like priesthood, while the lowers castes, especially Dalits, aren’t even given the decency of respect). Don’t even get me started on colourism, where obviously those of fairer skin will win the lottery while those of darker skin aren’t given the time of day. It’s even worse when morality ties into it — “lighter skinned Indians, like Brahmins, embody good qualities like justice and wisdom”, “dark skinned Indians are cunning and poor, they are untrustworthy”. It’s fucking nuts.

This means, of course, you have a billion people trying to make themselves heard in a system that tries to crush everyone who is not privileged. It only makes sense that people want to elevate themselves and break free from a society that refuses to acknowledge them. These frustrations manifest outwardly, like in protests, but other times — most times — it goes unheard, quietly shaping your way of life, your way of thinking. It becomes a fundamental part of you, and it can go unacknowledged for generations.

So when you have a character like Pavitr Prabhakar enter the scene, people immediately latch onto him and start asking questions many Western audiences don’t even consider. Who is he? What food does he eat? What does he do on Fridays? What’s his family like, his community? All these questions pop up, because, amidst all this turmoil going on in the background, you want a mainstream popular character to be like you, who knows your way of life so intimately, that he may as well be a part of your community.

BUT THAT'S THE THING — HE'S FICTIONAL

I am guilty of this. In fact, I’ve flaunted in numerous posts how I think he’s the perfect Tamil boy, how he dances bharatanatyam, how he does all these Tamil things that no one will understand except myself. All these niche things that only I, and maybe a few others, will understand.

I’ve seen other people do it, too. I’ve seen people geek out over his dark brown skin, his kalari dhoti, how he fights so effortlessly in the kalaripayattu martial arts style. I’ve seen people write him as Malayali, as Hindi, as every kind of Indian person imaginable.

I’ve also seen him be written where he’s subjected to typical Indian and broader Asian stereotypes. You know the ones I’m so fond of calling out. The thing is, I’ve seen so much of Pavitr being presented in so many different ways, and I worry how the rest of the desi folk will take it. 

You finally have a character who could be you, but now he’s someone else’s plaything. Your entire life is shaped by what you can and can’t do simply because you were born to an Indian family, and here’s the one person who could represent you now at the mercy of someone else’s whims. He’s off living a life that is so distant from yours, you can hardly recognise him.

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, yeah? But, again, you’re looking at it from that infinitely narrow lens Westerners use to look at India from Bollywood.

AND PAVITR PRABHAKAR DOESN'T LIVE IN INDIA

He lives in Mumbattan. He lives in a made-up, fictional world that doesn’t follow the way of life of our world. He lives in a city where Mumbai and Manhattan got fucking squashed together. There are so many memes about colonialism right there. Mumbattan isn’t real! Spider-Man India isn’t real!! He’s just a dude!! The logic of our world doesn’t apply to him!!!

“But his surname originates from ______” okay but does that matter?

“But he’s wearing a kalari dhoti so surely he’s ______” okay but does that matter?

“But his skin colour is darker so he must be ______” okay but does that matter?

“But he lives in Mumbai so he must be ______” okay but does that matter?

I sound insensitive and brash and annoying and it looks like I’m yapping just for the sake of riling you up, so direct that little burst of anger you got there at me, and keep reading.

Listen. I’m going to ask you a question that I’ve asked myself a million times over. I want you to answer honestly. I want you to ask this question to yourself and answer honestly:

Are you trying to convince me on who Pavitr Prabhakar should be?

... but why shouldn't i?

I’ll tell you this again — I did the same thing. You’re not at fault for this, but I want you to just...have a little think over. Just a little moment of self-reflection, to think about why you are so intent on boxing this guy.

It took me a while to reorganise my thinking and how to best approach a character like Pavitr, so I will give you all the time you need as well as a little springboard to focus your thoughts on.

SPIDER-MAN (INDIA) IS JUST A MASK

“What I like about the costume is that anybody reading Spider-Man in any part of the world can imagine that they themselves are under the costume. And that’s a good thing.”

Stan Lee said that. Remember how he was so intent on making sure that everybody got the idea that Spider-Man as an entity is fundamentally broken without Peter Parker there to put on the suit and save the day? That ultimately it was the person beneath the mask, no matter who they were, that mattered most?

Spider-Man India is no less different. You can argue with me that Peter Parker!Spidey is supposed to represent working class struggles in the face of leering corporate entities who endanger the regular folk like us, and so Pavitr Prabhakar should also function the same way. Pavitr should also be a working class guy of this specific social standing fighting people of this other social standing.

But that takes away the authenticity of Spider-Man India. Looking at him through the Peter Parker lens forces you to look at him through the Western lens, and it significantly lessens what you can do with the character — suddenly, it’s a fight to be heard, to be seen, to be recognised. It’s yelling over each other that Pavitr Prabhakar is this ethnicity, is that caste, this or that, this or that, this or that.

There’s a reason why he’s called Spider-Man India, infuriatingly vague as it is. And that’s the point — the vagueness of his identity fulfils Lee’s purpose for a character that could theoretically be embodied by anyone. If he had been called “Spider-Man Mumbai”, you cut out a majority of the population (and in capitalist terms, you cut out a good chunk of the market).

And in the case of Spider-Man India? Whew — you’ve got about a billion people imagining a billion different versions of him.

Whoever you are, whatever you see in Pavitr, that is what is personal to you, and there is nothing wrong with that, and I will not fault you for it. I will not fault you for saying Pavitr is from Central due to the origins of his last name. I also will not fault you for saying Pavitr is from South due to him practising kalaripayattu. I also will not fault you for saying he is not Hindu. I also will not fault you for saying he is a particular ethnicity without any proof.

What I will fault you for is trying to convince me and the others around you that Pavitr Prabhakar should be this particular ethnicity/have this cultural background because of some specific reason. I literally don’t care and it is fundamentally going against his character, going against the “anyone can wear the mask” sentiment of Spider-Man. By doing this, you are strengthening the walls that first divided us. You’re feeding the stratification and segmentation of our cultures — something that is actually not present in the fictional world of Mumbattan.

Like I said before: Mumbattan isn’t real, so the divides between ethnicities and cultural backgrounds are practically nonexistent. The best thing is that it is visually there for all to see. My favourite piece of evidence is this:

It’s a marquee for a cinema in the Mumbattan sequence, in the “Quick tour: this is where the traffic is” section. It has four titles; the first two are written in Hindi. The third title is written in Bengali*, and the fourth title is written in Tamil. You go to Mumbai and you won’t see a single shred of Bengali nor Tamil there, much less any other language that's not common in Maharashtra (Western India). Seeing this for the first time, you know what went through my head?

Wow, the numerous cultures of India are so intermingled here in Mumbattan! Everyone and everything is welcome!

I was happy, not just because of Tamil representation, but because of the fact that the plethora of Indian cultures are showcased coexisting in such a short sequence. This is India embracing all the little parts that make up its grander identity. This scene literally opened my eyes seeing such beauty in all the diverse cultures thriving together. In a place where language and cultural backgrounds blend so easily, each one complementing one another.

It is so easy to believe that, from this colourful palette of a setting, Pavitr Prabhakar truly is Spider-Man India, no matter where he comes from.

It’s easy to believe that Pavitr can come from any part of India, and I won’t call you out if the origin you have for him is different from the origin I have. You don’t need to stake out territory and stand your ground — you’re entitled to that opinion, and I respect it. In fact, I encourage it!!!

Because there’s only so much you can show in a ten minute segment of a film about a country that has such a vast history and even greater number of cultures. I want to see all of it — I want him to be a Malayali boy, a Hindi boy, a Bengali boy, a Telugu boy, an Urdu boy, whatever!! I want you to write him or draw him immersed in your culture, so that I can see the beauty of your background, the wonderful little things that make your culture unique and different from mine!

And, as many friends have said, it’s so common for Indian folks to be migrating around within our own country. A person with a Maharashtrian surname might end up living in Punjab, and no one really minds that. I’m actually from Karnataka, my family speaks Kannada, but somewhere down the line my ancestors moved to Tamil Nadu and settled down and lived very fulfilling lives. So I don’t actually have the “pure Tamil” upbringing, contrary to popular belief; I’ve gotten a mix of both Kannada and Tamil lifestyles, and it’s made my life that much richer. 

So it’s common for people to “not” look like their surname, if that’s what you’re really afraid about. In fact, it just adds to that layer of nuance, that even despite these rigid identities between ethnicities we as Indian people still intermingle with one another, bringing slivers of our cultures to share with others. Pavitr could just as well have been born in one state and moved around the country, and he happens to live in Mumbattan now. It’s entirely possible and there’s nothing to disprove that.

We don’t need to clamber over one another declaring that only one ethnicity is the “right” ethnicity, because, again, you will be looking at Pavitr and the rest of India in that narrow Western lens — a country with such rich cultural variety reduced to a homogenous restrictive way of life.

THE POLL: REINTERPRETED

This whole thing started because I was wondering why my little poll was so skewed — I thought people assumed I was asking them where he came from, then paired his physical appearance with the most logical options available. I thought it was my fault, that I had somehow influenced this outcome without knowing.

Truth is, I will never really know. But I will be thankful for it, because it gave me the opportunity to finally broach this topic, something that many of us desi folk are hesitant to talk about. I hope you have learned something from this, whether you are desi or a casual Spider-Man fan or someone who just so happened to stumble upon this. 

So just…be a little more open. Recognise that India, like many many countries and nations, is made up of a plethora of smaller cultures. And remember, if you’re trying to convince Pavitr that he’s a particular ethnicity, he’s going to wave his hand at you and say, “Ha, me? No, I’m one of the people that live here in the best Indian city! I’m Spider-Man India, dost!”

(Regardless, he still considers you a friend, because to him, the people matter more to him than you trying to box him into something he’s not.)

*Note: thank you dear anon for letting me know that the third title was Bengali, twas my mistake for literally completely forgetting

[raskies456]

GRE today…..