#so if you like that myth this is the chapter for you!

[verridaiya]

—Dream Blooms

"I've seen you there, before."

This fic was born from watching Sylus's Abyssal Blossom card and watching my heart break into a million pieces. It hurt, but then I realized you know who hasn't been hurt by it? Sylus.

Based on the prevailing theory/my headcannons that the Abyssal Blossom card was just a dream, brought on by MC's yearning for a normal, quiet life after the events of Beyond Cloudfall chapter 7.

Synopsis: Sylus invites himself over to take care of you while you're sick. You tell him about a pleasant dream of yours and proceed to break his heart. (Or, you dream of something you've dreamt before, and Sylus hears about it for the first time.)

Contains: Spoilers for Sylus's Beyond Cloudfall myth and the Abyssal Blossom card, Sylus x MC/reader, gender neutral MC/reader, angst/hurt (the comfort will come later), current timeline Sylus & MC

Word Count: 1.7k

“I had a strange dream again.”

“Another one, sweetheart?”

Sylus’s voice is a soft murmur above you. You open your blurry eyes to a darkened room and a pleasantly warm body under you, wrapped around you. Your head feels as hazy as the moonlight filtering in from the cloudy night sky through the window. Half-awake and half asleep, you can still feel the sensations of your dream like phantom memories. You hum an affirmation, shaking off the vestiges of a medicine-induced sleepiness.

You’re not quite sure how you found yourself in this position: sprawled out on your couch, nestled between a warm blanket and an even warmer Sylus, breathing in the scent of him through your admittedly stuffy nose. The last thing you remember was you laying collapsed on your bed, trying to convince yourself that you’re not sick, you’re just tired from a long week at the Hunter’s Association, and to muster up the energy to find something to eat. And then, suddenly, there was Sylus, filling your doorway as he had filled every part of your life, your thoughts, and now your dreams.

You’ve been having more of those recently, ever since you absorbed the power of another Aether Core almost a year ago. Reality intertwining with illusions, the people in your life woven intricately into a tapestry of dreams. Fragments of memories, glimpses of things that could never be, or never was. Flashing scales underneath glistening waves. Zayne, in a flowing robe you’ve never seen on him before, but looked so right on him. A silent forest, illuminated by starlight. You would wake up yearning for something just out of reach, hands outstretched to capture the essence of something that slips, incorporeal, through your fingers.

This dream was gentle, though. And this time, your hands didn’t need to reach far to grasp the heart of your dreams.

“You were in it this time, Sylus.”

“Oh?” he says, sounding intrigued. “Do tell, kitten.”

You hear him place something on the coffee table—his phone, probably—his attention shifting solely to you. He carefully moves to his side, extricating himself from under you, a large hand propping his head up so he can fully face you.

The soft moonlight illuminates on his face, throwing it into relief. Silvery hair threaded with shadow, a pale complexion half shrouded in darkness, eyes like banked hearths warming you with its glow. Through the haze of your fever, you can almost envision what you saw in your dream. You lift a hand pat his soft hair, as if searching for something that wasn’t there, before trailing your fingers down the side of his face.

“You had something on your head.” No, not exactly on his head. You can’t quite remember. The you in the dream was certain that the something was more a part of him than anything else. You frown slightly. The more you strain to remember the details of it, the more awake you became, and the more it danced out of your grasp. “Something sharp and twisting. Rough. It was beautiful, though. You were beautiful.”

Sylus stares at you with wide eyes you couldn’t decipher in your current state. There’s a spark of something foreign in his eyes.

“And?” he urges on, his deep voice uncharacteristically eager to your ears. He reaches to grab the hand that was holding his face, pressing it gently to him. His thumb rubs against the back of it in small soothing motions. “Can you tell me more about this dream of yours, kitten?”

You grasp at the cotton inside your head, stuffy from sleep and sickness. It takes so much effort, to tease apart the strands and find the wisps of fading dreams. It doesn’t help that you were also fighting off the drowsiness. You try, though, to give him what he’s asking for, as he always does for you.

“We were standing in a lovely field of flowers. They were breathtaking, Sylus. Such a vivid, dazzling red. There was a black spire in the distance, I think.” The spire had stood tucked away in the backdrop of rolling hills, but it was a small detail your mind was stuck on for some reason.

Thinking about that spire again, your mind can almost conjure a clear image of your dream. A lingering feeling of déjà vu washes over you, settling heavy on your chest. You’ve dreamt this before; you feel this with every bone in your body as an unshakeable fact. You’ve seen this obsidian spire before, this sprawling flower field. You know with startling certainty that you’ve had this exact dream before. But when you try to recall when, the feeling dissipates and leaves behind only a phantom sensation and an absence in your memory you cannot comprehend.

Sylus watches as you shake away the remnants of déjà vu. Your brow furrows. You’ve come to be accustomed to his intense stares through the months you’ve known him, but this one was… strange. It was as if he was trying to look deep into the fabric of your soul, even without the use of the Aether Core in his eye. His face remains a blank and indecipherable mask, leaving you with no indication of what he’s thinking of. You wanted to know what was going on in that unfathomable mind of his.

Longing. Trepidation. Yearning, a yearning that aches and makes you want to answer its call. You become distantly aware of emotions trickling into you that weren’t your own. You didn’t realize you were resonating with Sylus until he severed it, the hand holding yours shifting to catch your wrist instead. He leans down to brush his soft lips against it before letting your hand rest gently on your stomach.

“How about you recover from your fever first before you use your evol, sweetie.” He laughs softly, the red-gold brilliance of your evols intertwined fading from your hands.

“Oh, sorry.”

His presence in your mind and by your side was so natural that you weren’t even aware of when you began resonating with him. It seemed like your body responded to your desires even while your mind lagged behind. That brief glimpse into him enabled you to decipher that emotion in his eyes, though you struggle to make sense of it.

It was hope.

“Never apologize to me. What else do you remember?” he asks quietly, before you can puzzle over it further.

You close your eyes, willing the memories of the fleeing dream forward. The golden light of a setting sun. The crisp cold of mountainous air. The feeling of being the only two creatures in the world. And, inexplicably, the feeling of home.

“We were up in the air flying, somehow, before we landed in that blossoming. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I felt like I was in a whole other world. When I turned around to look at you, I saw you sitting there amongst the flowers. Red, like shining rubies. Red like-” you pause, the words at the tip of your tongue. A silhouette appears in your mind’s eye, before it sinks back into the void.

“Red, like rich wine,” you finish, though you know that’s not what you had wanted to say.

When he said nothing, you continued on. “I decorated you with those flowers. We were so carefree, unworried and relaxed. It was just us, no one else, in the valley that was our playground. I think I was teasing you, or maybe you were teasing me. You said something about seeing the other side of things, something taunting. We ended up play-fighting, rolling around and sending petals up in the air.”

You smile, the warmth of the dream enveloping you.

“It felt so real.” You wanted it to be real, this lovely lush field and this gorgeous, monstrous Sylus.

Monstrous?

Startled out of your reverie, you blink open your eyes. No, there is nothing monstrous about Sylus. Not anymore, not since those first few nights that you’ve met him so long ago. Shaking your head slightly to dispel the thought, you turn your head to glance at him, realizing he hasn’t spoken in a while.

His eyes are closed, brows furrowed and drawn tightly together. You’ve seen this expression on his face before, briefly, when he struggles to heal a particularly nasty wound. His body is so tense when you reach out to him, muscles taut and rigid beneath your fingers. You’re not quite sure he’s even breathing.

“Sylus?”

At your prompting, Sylus sucks in a breath through his teeth and exhales. He opens his eyes and your breath catches. Rich garnet eyes glow in the darkness, twin wine-dark seas drowning in sorrow, regret. Agony.

It is so at odds to the sweetness of your recounted dream that alarm shot through you, temporarily driving away the sleepiness. Seeing the pain in his eyes unsettled you; it didn’t belong on his face at all. Your sluggish brain tries to make sense of what you could have said to have garnered this reaction. Did you say something wrong? Your chest tightens at the thought of hurting him with your words, somehow. You begin to prop yourself up.

Sylus stops you with one gentle hand, pushing you to lay back down. He silently regards you, the silence between you stretching into something delicate.

There are so many things you want to say, to ask and to comfort. Sylus was never one to let his emotions show as openly as they are right now. You want to ask what was wrong, take back your silly little story if all it gave him was pain, even if you didn’t understand why.

But through the jumble of your fever, all that came out of your tired mouth was, “It was just a dream, Sylus.”

He quietly watches you for a few breaths longer. Slowly, he lifts a hand to gently caresses your cheek, holding you as if you were something as fragile as a memory. Leaning down, he brushes his lips against your forehead, soft as a butterfly’s wings, as the petals of a phantom flower.

“You’re right,” he says, with a grief you cannot fathom.

“It was just a dream, sweetheart.” His voice is barely a whisper. “It can be nothing more than a dream.”

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 6!

and what a week it's been... idk about you all, but i'm very much looking forward to all the 8b spec fic after seeing That One Leak...

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

a graveyard in blue | moonlightmornings/@moonlight-mornings | 12.9k | GA

After a call goes south because of limited resources and an equipment malfunction, Eddie's brave move to rescue a young girl takes a nasty turn. i love how this captures the energy and vibe of a rescue!! genuinely feels straight out of an episode <3

and i'd do it over and over again | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 4.4k | E

Buck and Eddie hook up at the end of "Confessions". oh when i tell you i savoured this one... such a wonderful fic that captures buddie's first time so so perfectly!! i love how their dynamic is written here <3

everything in between | simplyylupin | 2.1k | T

They’re quiet for a moment, mulling over the unsaid, and then Buck’s bringing his phone closer to his face, eyes squinting. “Are you naked?” the absolute codependency of these two <3 so good!!

hot ghost problems | ebjameston/@ebjameston | 40.9k | T

The ghost would prefer to go by Buck, if Eddie wouldn’t mind. this was a reread! i was reminded of the magic system here and revisited it - can confirm that magic and ghosts and all that are so very good here, and i love the diaz siblings!!

i'll tell them put me back in it (and i would do it again) | paleredheadinascifi | 4.8k| T

Eddie doesn't know how to make his listening history private. Buck doesn't know what to do with the words in front of his eyes. Chris cannot believe he has to deal with either of them. the sheer brilliance of this concept... such a lovely look at the buckley-diaz dynamics! i was smiling the whole way through <3

it's golden, like daylight | rarakiplin/@hoediaz | 8.7k | T

“Shut up,” fingers dig into his ribs, “I mean, would you want to? Be married again?” such wonderful firefam dynamics!! i read this last week, i think, and already reread it this past week as well. a new favourite for sure <3

lonely little love dog | littleghost/@ghostlandtoo | 24k | M

When the 118 is closed for reconstruction after an earthquake, Buck is a floater for different stations around the city. He tries not to let it get to him. Much. this is such a fascinating look at buck's character!! and i LOVED the mara scene <3

parabola | semperama/@semperama | 4.6k | T

“Hey, uh. By the way.” Buck’s been thinking about this, and he has to say it now, or it’ll explode out of him at a much worse time, in a much worse way. “Make sure you don’t forget to change your will again.” truly no fic captures the angst with a happy ending tag like this. also this fic is how i learned that there's a special ao3 tag for eddie's will, which sounds about right. anyway, point is, this is wonderful!!

the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love | lemonzestywrites/@lemonzestywrites | 25.7k | E

After the events of 6x13, Buck is worried he's lost his charm in bed. Eddie eagerly offers his services to prove otherwise. a reread of one of my favourite fics <3 there's something about the intersection of smut and feelings realisation and introspection in this fic that just hits so very hard, it's lovely <3

the whale fall principle | fastcardotmp3/@fastcardotmp3 | 95.5k | M

Daniel Buckley lives, but he’s still deciding what that means. Maddie is having a baby, but it isn’t her husband’s. And Evan knows his purpose. Until he doesn’t anymore. okay so definitely heed the creator chose not to use archive warnings tag here (there are specific warnings in the chapter notes) but holy shit, this fic. genuinely the best buckley sibling dynamics i have read, like, maybe ever. such a wonderful eddie and chimney and everyone, and such gorgeous writing!! if this one sounds up your alley, you're in for a treat <3

to ebb and flow | akapeterman/@akapeterman | 5.1k | GA

buck is sick, eddie is worried, and christopher is an angel. they'll be okay. i've really been vibing with sickfics lately, can you tell? this is another lovely lovely fic, such great hurt/comfort/domestic fluff!!

wait for me to come home | written_promises | 1.9k | GA

Eddie comes back home to LA from Texas to find Buck waiting for him… in his bed. Because he’s been living in Eddie’s home. and eddie's bed is exactly where buck should be<3 so soft and sweet and beautiful!!

we return to each other in waves | cozycatwriter/@leon-trans-kennedy | 3.1k | GA

“Yes I do. Of course I do. You saved Chris and looked after him the best you could during a tsunami-and you’re still recovering from an embolism from having your leg crushed on the job. The least I could do is look after you and let you stay the night. Besides, Chris would want you to stay.” post-tsunami fics my beloveds <3 it genuinely makes me so happy to see new ones pop up, and this is truly an excellent one!! i love the bed-sharing especially!

you need a friendly hand (and i need action) | AmZamReads | 13.1k | E

Eddie picks up pottery as a hobby and accidentally blows up on Instagram for "accidentally" posting thirst traps of him throwing on the wheel. Buck stumbles across the account and immediately becomes obsessed with Eddie's hands, and horny shenanigans ensues. this fic makes me wish i could make pottery. i love eddie's pottery friends!! and a lovely buddie dynamic too <3

[literallyjusttoa]

Realizing I also want to keep track of the songs Apollo mentions, so I'm gonna go back real quick and mention "You Send Me" by Sam Cooke, released in 1957, which he mentioned in chapter 2, and "Rise to the Sun" by Alabama Shakes, released in 2012, which he mentions in the opening of chapter 10. Listened to them both, and honestly, they're both great songs! And Rise to the Sun actually fits Apollo really well, I was genuinely surprised.

Going back also makes me realize that Apollo was going to sing an honest to god love song to stop Cade and Mikey. That image will stay with me for years, I think.

Rhea is described as dressing like a "Libyan queen of old" which is interesting, bc I couldn't find any reference to Rhea being an important figure during the period where Ancient Greece had footholds in the region. What's interesting though, is that Apollo definitely was. One of the two cities Greeks established in Libya was Cyrene, and some myths even call the native Libyans the founders of both Delos and Delphi. So like, I have no idea where Rick got the idea of Rhea being connected to Libya, but it helped me learn new things, so that's cool!

Another anecdote: When Apollo drives the sun chariot as a bus, Hermes always sits in the back, because that's where troublemakers sit.

The way Apollo describes his physical state, I'm convinced he's just constantly in excruciating pain. Like, all he does is get off the cot in the Apollo cabin, and he says that his "eyes felt as if they were being microwaved in their sockets." Bestie, what? Are you dying, wtf lmao?

Anecdote: Apollo once attempted target practice in Zeus' throne room. That feels like it might have been a more pointed thing.

Apollo sees Nero in his dreams for the first time in chapter 10, but he doesn't recognize him yet. He spends the rest of the chapter simply referring to him as "The man in the purple suit", "The ugly mauve-suited man", and simply "the ugly man" King behavior, honestly.

I know I made a post about it a while ago, but I still can't get over Apollo's outrageous claim of 33 mortal girlfriends and 11 mortal boyfriends. He has past that in Ancient Greek lovers alone lmao.

Rick does a really good job of writing these long flowing internal monologues for Apollo, only to cut them off with a short sentence that both allows for an easy transition out of Apollo's head and back to the action of the scene, but also simulates Apollo getting distracted in his own ramblings and then abruptly coming back to reality. Like, he goes on for three paragraphs about Nico and will, and then his past loves, and then his embarrassment over sharing his love for Hyacinthus and Daphne, only to end it all off with the short line "I am so confused." and then we're right back into the scene. It's a really great comedic bit, and it does wonders for Lester's characterization. (Also my god does Lester read so much like he has ADHD. Almost more than Percy to me, but then I think Lester's flavor of ADHD is much more similar to my own than Percy's is)

Anecdote: Apollo cosplayed Rocky at midnight showings of Rocky Horror Picture Show. Queen.

Apollo mentions that he filmed the orientation film on "a tight budget in the 1950's" which like, why? Maybe it's mentioned in the supplemental books somewhere, but why would a god ever be put on a budget for something lmao?

"Had I been a god, I would have turned her into a blue-belly lizard and released her into the wilderness never to be seen again. The thought soothed me." One, Apollo she is twelve dear god. Two, I love this as a character moment for Apollo (Stay with me here). Apollo comes from a culture that is so focused on strength and power and violence. The moment he loses control of a situation, he grasps for any way to get power back into his hands. And in these moments, his way of giving himself power is by reassuring himself that he could totally murder everyone here if he wanted to. Killing people is a way to assert control, it's a way that Zeus and the other gods assert control all the time. And there's an implication with Apollo using these lines too. By asserting that he can kill people, it's also an assertion that the people he is threatening cannot kill him. Idk it's just a very interesting way of coping.

Real quick fun fact! Lester describes the Oracle of Delphi in Greece as a "cavern filled with volcanic fumes" but that's not actually 100% correct. The oracle of Delphi in Ancient Greece was actually in the Temple of Apollo, with descriptions from ancient scholars putting her either in the cella or in an adyton that was below the main temple. There was a opening in the ground in this chamber, but it certainly wasn't a cave. Furthermore, the whole idea of Apollo fighting Python in a cave? From what I can tell, this is also not based in myth! Most descriptions of the fight between Apollo and Python that I can find in myth describe Python being coiled around the mountains of the Parnassus range, which is a terrifying image honestly. Just find it interesting that none of the cave stuff is actually a part of the Delphic Oracle. I mean, from what I can tell, the nearest mythologically important cave is the Corycian cave, which has nothing to do with the oracle and is also like a 45 minute drive away from Delphi.

I usually try to read three chapters before rb'ing, but I had so many notes on these two that I'm gonna cut it off here. Also, this has kind of just become pointing out shit I find interesting instead of focusing specifically on Lester-isms, but I'm def still gonna point those out, so the tag will stay. I just have so much to say about my little blorbo, sorry guys.

I think I'm gonna make a reblog chian of all the little phrases and Apollo uses throughout ToA, now that I'm rereading it. Bc like, he has such a unique way of speaking, and I really wanna dig into it, you know? Ok let's start.

He says "heavens help me" instead of "heaven help me" using the plural the same way demigods do with "oh my gods". I'm guessing this is an acknowledgment of other pantheons? Or I'm looking too far into it, I've just never heard this phrase with a plural "heavens" before.

He calls Cade and Mikey "Ruffians" . And he makes fun of the arrow for being Shakespearean.

He also refers to people as "Mortals" a lot here, which I remembered him doing, but now I want to keep track and see if he keeps that up throughout all the books, or if it peters out near the end.

"I thought how amusing it would be if I could make the snake tattoos around his neck come alive and strangle him to death" I honestly love how violent Apollo's thoughts can be sometimes. Like, you can tell he's someone who has done shit like this before.

I also want to keep track of all the little anecdotes Apollo brings up, so we'll start with the guitar contest against Chuck Berry in 1957, which apparently ended with him getting repeatedly stomped on.

"But something told me this was not she" II love how it's the little things that really get across how old Apollo is. Rick could've easily just said "It wasn't her" or something, but instead he had Apollo phrase this in a way that is far more formal, and more reminiscent of the grammatical patterns of old english. Idk it's just really cool.

(Side note that's not connected to Apollo: Meg's glasses are black? I feel like I've been living a lie, I've been coloring them red for years lol)

God his metaphors are just so striking. Like, I can imagine the phrase "Whatever was left of my pride turned into ice water and trickled into my socks" but I don't want to, because that's such a visceral feeling. I like that Apollo inadvertently proving how poetic he is by making the reader as uncomfortable as possible.

I think I'm gonna start crying out "Horrors!" when I'm upset to. I think I deserve that level of drama.

ahh the classic "My blessings upon you!" Again, I love how every little line characterizes him. Either it's overly formal, like before, or subtly arrogant, like here, or both. It's so fun.

I need to write him saying "Sacred Sibyl!" more. Because that is such a fun little term. Rolls right off the tongue, honestly.

I think I'm gonna leave it there for now, but trust that I will definitely be adding more to this later. Bc Lester-speak is so fun to really look into.

[circeius-invidioso]

Today.

This day.

Right here.

Begins what I said I was going to do months ago.

And since it will be a whole ass saga. Take my hand, it's an expensive ride but you will witness for free.

What's this ride you might ask?

Well of course,

It's painting Garran Crowe using genuine Afghan Lapis Lazuli. 💎

Because he deserves it. Ain't no budget when we are talking about my favourite character.

In my knowledge this is the only attempt / tutorial on this subject.

Not oil paints and minis this is common.

But historical pigments used on minis.

And I did search. Trust me, If there was it would have made my life a lot easier. But let's move on.

Do you see this blue. This is Lapis. And this will be on my mini when this saga ends.

Mark my words.

Preparations 💎

Can't win a war without a battle plan.

And to make this more interesting I will put the price of each item so we can all look at how much this costs to do.

So what did I pay to paint a cape on a single miniature?

Refined Linseed Oil 75ml - 14€

Liquin 75ml - 6€

Sansodor 75ml - 5€

Isopropyl Alcohol 1lt - 11 €

Sable Bright Brush no2 - 8€

Sable Round Brush no0 - 4€

Sable Filbert Brush no2 - 9€

Michael Harding Ultramarine Blue - 9€

Michael Harding Scarlet Lake - 9€

Michael Harding Titanium White 2 - 9€

Michael Harding Lapis Lazuli (Afghan) - 140€

Total score - 224€

And before someone thinks.

Aint no way you did that.

Yes I did.

Sanity is for the weak.

The experiments before the main show phase. You didn't really think I was going to take a brush and go to town. Did you?

The limits were tasted.

The application was tested.

The flow.

Was tested.

Did we have duds?

I mean, duh.

But every failure of paper is success on the mini. I will not go detail cause that's boring.

Mini. I keep saying but where is the man the myth the legend himself?

Well.

Today.

I did the first layer.

Base colors applied.

Now it's the waiting game we will have to play before the second one.

Ah yes, oil colors my beloved and their slow drying times.

It does look incredibly glossy, shiny like a freshly oiled up body builder before a competition.

But.

What I have so say so far is that.

These paints feel different.

I don't know how to describe it.

Maybe I will find the words in the next chapter.

So.

The adventure ends here. For now...

God I am excited about this.

And if after all those trials and tribulations this experiment is a success, I will be making a tutorial on this.

Step by step and all.

I promise and I wish. 🤞🏻

[darlingpoppet]

Where The Dead Forget — Chapter 8: Glory

Hades Gameverse Memory Loss AU | Achilles/Patroclus | E | Chapters: 8/22 | Words: 87,923 (Ch 8: 16,680) words)

Chapter 8 Summary: A treatment of the Scyros episode from the Achilles myths. Patroclus is called upon to honor his allegiance to war, and Achilles is keen to join him, for the sake of love and glory. His mother Thetis, however, has different plans.

Excerpt:

“Father,” Achilles began, “We have been told there are tidings you wish to share with us.”

“Indeed,” Peleus said. “I have called you both here—however, these are matters that primarily concern Patroclus.”

Next to Achilles, Patroclus’ bowed head lifted.

“Me?”

“Yes,” Peleus answered him. “I have just gotten word of a disturbing incident out of Sparta—a grievous crime in violation of the sacred customs of hospitality. Prince Paris, son of Priam of Troy, has abducted Queen Helen, the wife of Menelaus, son of Atreus. And since Helen’s former suitors from all over our kingdoms had sworn by oath to honor and protect their union, King Menelaus, along with his older brother, King Agamemnon of Mycenae, have called upon all those men bound by that oath to assist in ensuring Helen’s safe return to her rightful place.”

Achilles turned to Patroclus, astonished by this news. Patroclus, however, did not seem to notice him. He lowered his head once more, closing his eyes as a small, knowing smile appeared on his face.

“Ah,” he said simply.

“They intend to wage war against Troy?” Achilles asked, turning back to address his father. “And you mean to tell us that they wish for Patroclus to join them? Because—“ he blinked, quickly putting the pieces together, “—because he is among those who made the oath?”

“That is correct,” Peleus answered.

Achilles turned again to Patroclus. “I did not know of this.” He hoped his tone did not come off as aggrieved, even if he did feel a considerable degree of shock.

Patroclus looked back at him, his expression solemn, but strained.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to keep any more secrets from you. The truth is, it is something I simply did not think would ever come to pass, so I had put it out of my mind completely. I was so young then—not even ten—I had petitioned for Helen’s hand at my father’s behest.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I did not have a choice back then… and it appears I do not have a choice in the matter now, either. So I shall go, and honor my duty. I suppose since I am no longer a prince, it is simpler this way. I have no army of men at my command, so I will be able to leave at once for Mycenae on my own.”

Achilles shook his head.

“What are you saying, Pat?” he exclaimed. “What in all of the heavens and earth makes you presume that I wouldn’t come with you?”

Patroclus’ eyebrows lifted, eyeing him seriously. “I presume nothing. You are not bound to this war,” he said.

“But I am bound to you, aren’t I? You are my dear companion, and my duty to you is just as important as your duty to myself. If this is something you must do, then of course I will be by your side to protect you, and keep you company. And it does not matter that you are not a prince, without an army to call your own. You are a Myrmidon now—one of us. If you have no contingent, then you may share mine, and together we will muster the most splendid army in all of our kingdoms!”

Peleus, who had been listening to their conversation all the while, appeared delighted. He grinned handsomely.

“A magnificent plan, my son,” he said. “Of course, the kingdom of Phthia would be honored to do right by Patroclus, and extend its means to assist the Atreides brothers in their righteous cause. The both of you shall secure glory and victory for yourselves, and for us all. How particularly fortunate you are as well, Achilles. A man could not ask for a finer gift for his coming of age. You should be very pleased.”

Achilles nodded, flushed with pleasure and excitement. “There, Pat, you see? We all love you. And I don’t just mean those of us here in this chamber. Every one of us in Phthia.”

Patroclus eyes darted between father and son, both of them smiling widely at him with warm enthusiasm. At first, he appeared almost stunned by this, but then he bowed his head once again, his eyes glistening.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly, his voice tight with barely suppressed emotion. “I am grateful.”

Read the rest here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43292178/chapters/150227206

Previous Chapters: 1. Drown | 2. Grief | 3. Grace | 4. Weakness | 5. Together | 6. Guilt | 7. Known

[szynkaaa]

I hope yall know that I am working on a DO/SWO x OC fanfic now, featuring my OC Oz

this is how down bad I am for the monkey king.

Shameless plugging in my AO3 account, will be posting my fic here on tumblr and also over at AO3

[nodutra19]

This might be my favorite episode in the whole series. Though I don't play "favorites" for the most part and just look at things as a whole, rather than through rankings.

By critiquing patriarchy and gender, RGU necessarily critiques hero worship. Now, I haven't actually studied up on hero worship just yet. It's an idea I became familiar with after reading The Pike by Lucy Hughes-Hallett. After BHM, I'm gonna read three of her other books, starting with Heroes: Traitors, Saviors, and Superman: A History of Hero Worship. Maybe I'll write about RGU and hero worship by the middle of next month.

In particular with this episode, and as has been built over time, is the idea of "special people." A few episodes ago, Akio waxes poetic over how "special" Utena is, and how special people don't know they're special. There's a few layers to that, but here I wanna focus on the hero worship aspect in terms of Souji/Nemuro.

I've loved this episode for a very long time. It truly feels like a wrinkle in time and space. It gives me nostalgia for a where and when I never laid personal witness to. Last year around this time I read American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer by Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin. The very first chapter has the quote:

Around the globe, scientists were soon to be celebrated as a new kind of hero, promising to usher in a renaissance of rationality, prosperity and social meritocracy. In America, reform movements were challenging the old order. Theodore Roosevelt was using the bully pulpit of the White House to argue that good government in alliance with science and applied technology could forge an enlightened new Progressive Era.

For some reason I never drew this connection to RGU until today. It did tickle me on my rewatch last year but still.

"Genius." What a loaded word! I've read about geniuses, from Marx to Oppie to Tolstoy to Nabokov and now to W.E.B Du Bois, and they were all just as foolish as they were intelligent! I think we see here a sort of prefigurement to Akio and his relationship to Prince Dios. Literally they are the same, but Prince Dios lives on as a separate image to which Akio aspires because 1.) He wants to regain lost time and 2.) These are the demands of patriarchy.

But that's all it really is: an image. An idea. A rotten ideal in white. "But is that what she really wants?"

In this case, Professor Nemuro somewhat does fit the mold of a "genius." A genius is an odd person, a disconcerting changeling. A Byronic solitary figure who "doesn't fit in," who "stands out," who "comes into your life like a hurricane." They're a little beyond human ken. They are a "god among men." They are often "hard to work with." And the worship is just as cultic and religious as all these romantic phrases imply.

Of course, most of their contemporaries think lesser of them than what subsequent myth making would imply. In the case of Marx, he could be a bit grumpy (and was a D1 bum in the funniest sense. An iconic debt shuffler) and had terrible handwriting. You'll often hear people say "Smart people think so fast they can seem rude" or "Have bad handwriting." Behaviors and traits that would otherwise be pathologized are at least excused if not embellished if someone is a "genius."

I think there are other layers to this stuff, especially, I imagine, for those who are ace and aro, but I dunno enough about that to get into the weeds about it.

To bring things real close to RGU, I remember some years ago getting into a conversation with some several years older than me. They were an immigrant, and so I helped them with dealing with the culture shock they were facing. Eventually we got to talking about generations, and they said "I think this generation [referring to mine, Gen Z], will change the world. If more people were like you, things would be better." I was obviously flattered, especially the second bit, but the first bit had always bothered me. As I'm reading through David Levering Lewis's biography on W.E.B Du Bois for BHM, I'm reminded of how Du Bois came up with the idea of the "Talented Tenth." They were essentially the Black Vanguard who would lift the Black race up. Later on, however, he revised it to the "Guiding Hundredth," which attempted to democratize the idea and expand racial lines to something more intersectional. Having gained this knowledge after that conversation, I realize why I was bothered by what that person said: it seemed another form of idolatry. Changing the world isn't the work of a chosen few predetermined by a secular mandate of heaven (In Oppie's time, it was scientists. Nowadays, the "heroes" are entrepreneurs and venture capitalists), it will involve all of us, of all walks of life.

My thoughts are very soupy on this subject, so pardon if I seemed rambly and unfocused.

I'll at least leave a few quotes:

I've become convinced that genius is a vastly overrated commodity. I think this country is full of geniuses, guys and gals so bright they make your average card carrying MENSA member look like Fucko the Clown. And I think that most of them are teachers, living and working in small town obscurity because that's the way they like it. —Stephen King Insomnia

To hell with the philosophy of the great men of this world! All great wise men are as despotic as generals and as rude and insensitive as generals, because they are confident of their impunity. —Anton Chekhov, after souring a bit on a late controversial play by Tolstoy. As translated by Rosamund Bartlett

Genius…means little more than the faculty of perceiving in an unhabitual way. —William James The Principle of Psychology

That last quote is part of the epigraph of the Du Bois biography I'm reading. So rn I got a lot on my head about geniuses, professors, heroism, hero worship, masculinity, etc.

For Marx and Tolstoy, I recommend the biographies Love and Capital: Karl and Jenny Marx and the Birth of a Revolution by Mary Gabriel and Tolstoy: A Russian Life by Rosamund Bartlett (along with her excellent translation of Anna Karenina)

Fansub release + translation notes for Utena ep 22!

さすがに何でもよく知ってるわね。でもそれだけの情報網があるなら、早く奴らの正体も突き止めて欲しいわ。

You know everything, don’t you Juri? With such a vast intelligence network, I wish you’d hurry up and find out these people’s true identities. (literal translation)

You know everything, don’t you Juri? I wish you'd put your little birdies to work finding out just who is behind this. (final translation)

情報網 (jouhoumou) is an interesting word to use here! It literally means “intelligence network”, so Nanami is implying that Juri has a bunch of spies feeding her everytthing that happens at the school. To actually use the word “intelligence network” sounds a little but out of place in English though, so I rephrased the line a little to sound more conversational and accusatory.

Boy: しばらく消えないでしょうね、根室教授。 Nemuro: ん？なんだい？ Boy: 雪の事ですよ、教授。

Boy: Won't disappear for a while still, eh, Professor Nemuro? Nemuro: I beg your pardon? Boy: I was talking about the snow, Professor.

There’s a double meaning in the first line here — the boy could reasonably be talking about the Professor himself not clearing out for a while. That was actually my original phrasing: “Won’t clear out for a while” but Anya suggested “disappear” which is actually much closer to the original Japanese phrasing so I changed it to that. I think this exchange preserves that passive aggressive dig at the Professor pretty well!

あの人は花が散るのを見たくないんですよ。こうすれば短い命の花も少しは長持ちさせることができる。でも、こうまでして永らえても花自身は嬉しいんでしょうか？

She hates it when the petals begin to fall. This way even a short-lived flower can be made to last a little longer. But… I wonder how the flowers feel about their existence being prolonged like this.

This is one of my favourite exchanges in the show! I think this really emphasises how Japanese sentence structure and general way of phrasing things differs drastically from English. A literal translation of the first sentence would be something like “That person does not want to see flowers scatter”. Each part of the sentence sounds weird if translated individually:

あの人 - “that person” being used because Japanese prefers that phrasing to third person pronoun “she”.

花が散る - “flowers scatter” is the most natural way to say “petals fall/die” in Japanese but sounds very odd in English

見たくないんですよ - “does not want to see X” also sounds very funny when translated directly to English, but simply conveys the idea that she doesn’t like seeing something happen.

When taken as a whole, complete idea though, the sentence can easily be translated into something that sounds natural in English: “She hates it when the petals begin to fall.”

The hardest part of this to translate was the last sentence. I originally had translated it like this: “So much work to make them last, and yet I wonder if the flowers themselves are happy.”

こうまでして - to go this far/to put in this much effort/to put in this much work. However, this is more of a tone setting phrase than a meaning carrying phrase, so it’s okay not to translate it directly.

永らえる - to prolong something’s lifespan. This is hard to translate because while the phrasing works in Japanese, the preserved flowers are actually dead. So you can’t translate it as “I wonder how the flowers feel about being made to live so long” or something of that ilk. My original translation of “make them last” works, but I prefer the final translation of “existence being prolonged”. It sounds more applicable to Mamiya’s situation, and this exchange is all about that metaphor.

永遠に憧れる心が美しく思えたりするだけだ。

(lit.) We just think of a heart that longs for eternity as beautiful. (??)

We just romanticise the idea of eternity.

Another great example of Japanese phrasing that sounds super weird when translated directly, but can sound very natural when the core idea behind the words is translated properly. “Romanticise” is such a succinct one-word translation of the several word phrase 「憧れる心が美しく思えたり」!

Thank you to my amazing editor @dontbe-lasanya for their help with the episode as always!

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Rose divider taken from this post.

[imminent-danger-came]

Can we take a moment to appreciate how many hats SWK manages to keep crammed on his head in lmk?

That man was doomed by the narrative, is mourned by the narrative, is and was haunted by the narrative AND is haunting the narrative, all at the same time! And lmk isn’t his story, and he doesn’t think of it as his story, and he doesn’t want it to be his story, but it’s also exactly his story, just a little to the left, and he is trying to remove himself from this new story, but also can't escape it because this isn't his story but also it is, and he's taking steps to ensure this don’t end up like his story, and is accidentally contributing to problems that are making it like his story all over again as a result. What a character!

To quote Anne Carson,

"To live past the end of your myth is a perilous thing".

I think, strangely enough, most characters in Lego Monkie Kid are living past the end of their myth (jttw). You have Wukong who is the only original pilgrim still alive and around, you have Tang, Mei, Pigsy, and Sandy who are all reincarnations of the pilgrims (supposedly), and then you have all the antagonists who try and continue their stories in their own way. DBK was freed from under the mountain, almost killing his wife and son in his continued pursuit of world domination. LBD escaped her prison early, continuing her plan for a perfect world which ended in her defeat, her end. Spider Queen refused to accept the end of her empire, and ultimately was killed by LBD for it. Azure Lion had been sealed in the scroll, and after being released immediately tried to continue his rebellion, his hubris, martyrdom, and refusal to change becoming his downfall.

I think in Wukong's own way, he does something similar—falling into old habits and becoming his own undoing. His search for the samadhi fire was exactly what Macaque was upset about in the 4x11 argument:

"You're the one always running off! Searching for more power, or more sources of immortality: you're the one who wouldn't quit while we were ahead!"

MK earlier in the special makes the point "Why didn't he just stop, right here? He was already so much stronger than anyone ever needed to be." to which Macaque replies, "Wukong didn't think so, he always thought he had to be stronger—more immortal." And that's what he does in s2 isn't it? He still isn't strong enough. He can't defeat LBD, so he has to go find the power that will make him strong enough to do just that—and Wukong finds the samadhi fire. Which in turn leaves MK behind, and has him relive his life's story again.

Like, this dude is CRAZZZYYYY

[aroacettorney]

when will aup sidestories return from war and stop leaving me bitter about how the main story ended

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

guy who thinks writing 4k in a little over 24 hours is plausible even though the first 4k of this book took 29 days to write

[commanderantilles]

finding myself intrigued with the tower of swallows and the lady of the lake, but like academically…. we r in the fucking danger zone y’all.

[plutotheplum]

I Only Bleed For Him

dragon!sylus x fem!reader

summary: amidst the blooming flowers in tarus city, the dragon claims his beloved.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, a smidge of fluff, angst, kissing, loss of virginity, oral sex, p in v, possessive sex, blood, claiming bites, mating, knotting, soulmates, canon compliant death

wc: 4.5k

a/n: the way the myth cards just keep getting depressing :( there will be another chapter after this fic, but it'll be in the actual timeline! also not very confident in my angst writing abilities, but hopefully y'all enjoy!! <3

also on ao3!

“You know, Tarus City can have flowers bloom everywhere, as far as the eye can see. But only for one person.”

Sylus’ voice is a soft murmur, his hands caressing your waist as he holds you tighter against him. Your heart lurches uncomfortably, fingers brushing across his cheek and the hard, black scale that lays fused to his skin.

“What if we stayed here?” you whisper, peering into his crimson eyes.

“Would you be able to sate yourself?” Sylus asks in return, his claws brushing through your hair gently.

You avert your gaze, cheek pressing against his chest as you stare at the swaying carmine flowers in the soft breeze. Sylus’ heart is steady, the soothing sound of thrumming coupled with the motions of his claws nearly enough to lull you to sleep.

His question holds value. Revenge threatens to pull you apart at the seams, the desire for chaos rearing its ugly head. You want more, you always want more and Sylus gives it to you willingly. Your selfish desires will be the downfall of the Fiend, you think, hands tightening into fists. 

Yet, there is so much more to do. So much to take from those that had taken from you. Resentment makes you tremble, the Sacred Judicator’s words ringing clear in your mind. 

The Sorceress has been judged. 

You could laugh at the thought if you weren’t so angry. Some sorceress you were, powerless and yet put before the Court of Justitia as a traitor for trying to protect the statue of a dragon. 

Angry tears prick at your eyes, teeth gritting together only to be drawn out of your wrathful thoughts by the press of Sylus’ lips against your clenched fists, his claws unfurling your clenched fingers.

“Just like the day we met,” Sylus murmurs, his gaze trained on you, “such hatred and defiance.”

You swallow the lump in your throat when he kisses your palms.

“Beauty,” he whispers against your skin, “and resentment, little sorceress. They make you my precious, most finest treasure.”

“I don’t want to think about the Legion,” you reply, voice trembling, “I want them gone, Sylus.”

“Pluck them out one by one,” Sylus says, his hand caressing your cheek, “but another will replace those gone. Their roots run deep, weeds that refuse to die, marring the world around them.”

You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you lean into the warmth of his hand, the rough scales scratching your skin gently.

“I shall burn Justitia to the ground,” you grit out, eyes burning with determination, “I will make them all regret and spite them into contrition, bring them to their knees and- and-”

Sylus laughs, his expression soft as he peers up at you. “You speak sharply, little sorceress. Your fire and spirit matches my own.”

“Because I am your other half,” you mumble, pouting slightly as you feel your anger subside the more Sylus caresses you. 

“You are,” Sylus affirms, “bearer of my soul, my other half. Only you could be worthy enough.”

A light flush covers your cheeks before you hide again, nosing into his cheek. You can feel the warmth of his soul inside of you as your eyes shut, lungs expanding as you suck in a deep breath, the scent of the dragon clouding your senses.

Burnt embers and a soft sweetness make you whine, body squirming as you try and press yourself closer to him, your fingers caressing his horns.

“Careful,” Sylus grunts, his claws tightening around your waist when he feels the brush of your fingers against the base of his horns.

You can feel the slight jump of his hips, your gaze lifting to find his brows drawn together, eyes squeezed shut.

“Does it hurt?” you ask worriedly, fingers pausing.

“Hardly,” he replies, his eyes opening again, “I am simply… sensitive.”

You hum, head tilting to kiss his cheek as your fingers resume their stroking and caressing. Sylus makes a small noise and you relish in it, peppering kisses here and there, across his cheeks and over the large scales.

A delighted sound escapes you when you hear what you think is something akin to a purr. Sylus’ cheeks tint with a light pink and you smile against his cheek, ears straining to listen again when he rumbles gently, his head tilting as he pushes up into the caress of your hand.

“Like a mountain cat,” you tease, tracing the slope of his nose when he purrs again, feeling his claws twitch against your hips.

“Do not use my gifts against me,” Sylus grouses, despite the pleased rumble of his chest.

“I enjoyed them,” you reply, fingers running through his hair leisurely, “if only we could go back.”

“We will,” Sylus promises, his eyes flickering open, “I shall make sure of it.”

You smile wistfully. Going back to the cavern held more challenges than worth risking. Bitterness makes your smile waver, but you brush the thought away, content to at least be given this moment of reprieve.

“We will,” you repeat after him.

Neither of you mention the emptiness of the promise. The damp coldness of the chapel latches onto you and Sylus is the only one able to make it dissipate, his claws tracing over the curve of your cheek.

You cling to him, nose brushing against his gently.

“I love you.”

Sylus’ chest rumbles in response, his head tilting as he presses his lips to yours. The curl of his tail around you holds you to him, his hands kneading at your hips as you kiss him. It’s slow and syrupy, both of your souls intertwining and interlocking in the sweet musk of the flower fields. 

You can feel the pull of your soul towards him, how your body yearns for more of him, the tendrils of your very being try to claw through gaps of your ribs and pierce his chest. You’d let him hold you in the glowing stone embedded in his chest if it were possible.

“So this is what it means to love,” Sylus murmurs, his lips brushing over yours with every word he speaks, “perhaps mortals are wiser than I thought.”

You laugh, arms wrapping around his neck when he rolls you both over, your back pressing into the soft grass.

“Only some mortals,” you correct, smiling when his teeth bite onto the tips of your gloves, pulling them free from your hands, rings and all.

Sylus’ skin is warm when you touch him again, truly for the first time. His eyes flutter shut, savouring the sensation of your skin against his before he lowers his head, kissing you again.

“I wish to claim you, my beloved,” he breathes out, trailing hot kisses down your neck, “will you let me?”

“Yes,” you sigh, your own eyes slipping shut, “yes, Sylus.”

Sylus’ tail sways behind him, the pointed tip brushing across the skin of your leg before his claws join the midst, dragging down your thighs gently. You gasp, the unfamiliar sensation making you squirm as he begins to undo your dress.

You help him, sitting up as he pulls it over your head, his claws ripping through the delicate fabric despite his tentativeness. You don’t pay it any mind, cupping his cheeks to pull him down into a slow kiss, feeling his body hover over you, his tail wrapping around your waist.

The sharp spikes dig into your skin, making your body seize with discomfort until the repeated brush of Sylus’ lips over yours soothes away the nervousness.

Your panties are ripped away too, the fabric laying in tatters in Sylus’ palm. He frowns when he stares at his claws, and you reach for his hand, lips pressing against his knuckles gently.

“It doesn’t bother me,” you whisper.

“It should,” Sylus murmurs, his gaze dipping as he stares at you laying bare before him. 

He can see the mark of his fangs in your neck, the subtle scent of your blood setting his senses alight. You belong here, Sylus thinks, his eyes darkening as he sees the rise and fall of your chest, the pebbling of your nipples in the cooling breeze. 

An undying flame blooming amidst a field of lesser flowers. 

If only he could keep you here.  

The flicker of emotion in Sylus’ eyes makes you uncomfortable and you kiss his knuckles again, lips pressing against the hard scales firmly. He sighs, his hand flexing in your grip, his tail drawing you closer as he kisses your forehead.

You can hear his breath hitch when you fumble with his trousers, undoing the various buckles to have him bare before you as you are before him.

“Greedy mortal,” he murmurs, gripping your chin to plant a kiss to your lips.

“You already knew that,” you smile faintly, nipping his lower lip playfully.

Sylus rumbles, his body shifting to remove his clothing. You swallow when you see the heavy hang of his thick cock. The tip glistens and you squeeze your thighs shut, trying to quell the dull ache that has settled inside of you.

“It- it is different from mortal men,” you mumble, head tilting curiously as you stare at the base of his cock.

“I am a dragon,” Sylus supplies drily, his hand wrapping around his cock.

You watch, mesmerised as he pumps his cock with his clawed hand, brows furrowing when you see the slight swell at the base of his cock, above his heavy balls.

“A knot,” he explains, moving his cock to show you the swell of it a little better, a low hiss leaving him when you reach out to touch it hesitantly. “It- hah- it is useful for mating.”

It gives a little under your prodding, wetness pooling between your thighs at the sight of it. You try to wrap your fingers around it, but the tips of your fingers hardly touch, Sylus letting out a growl at the sight.

“I want it,” you whisper, blinking up at him, “I- I want you to mate me, and- and I want that.” You point to his knot.

Sylus lets out a hoarse laugh, his clawed hand coming up to caress your cheek. 

“And you shall have it when I claim you. Although…” he pauses for a moment, his expression becoming slightly flustered, “I have never claimed anyone before.”

“Oh,” you flush with him, averting your gaze. “I have never been claimed before.”

Sylus sucks in a sharp breath, his nose nudging against yours gently as he plants a soft kiss to your lips. “My first and my last.”

You have to blink away the tears that begin to brim in your eyes, your arms wrapping around his neck tightly. Sylus kisses the side of your head, his body descending further down your body.

Soft noises leave you as he places reverent kisses along the length of your body, his tongue flicking at your nipple experimentally, carmine eyes peering up to watch your reaction carefully. When you gasp, Sylus hums, his mouth opening wider to envelop your breast with his mouth.

Your fingers delve into his soft hair, back arching as you push your breast further into his mouth, his hot saliva making your skin shine. The flowers around you sway, unbothered by the act of intimacy, Sylus’ clawed fingers pinching at your nipple lightly.

He groans when you jerk under him, mouthing at the sides of your breast, pressing wet kisses here and there, tongue swirling over your areolas before granting each nipple a soft kiss.

“You respond well, beloved,” Sylus whispers, beginning to lave over one of your areolas again, seemingly taken with the way you twitch whenever his teeth graze your nipples.

“It- it feels good,” you whine, your thighs sticky with slick.

“Then perhaps I ought to do the same here,” he murmurs thoughtfully, pulling back to pry apart your thighs.

Translucent strings of slick cling to your thighs and the folds of your pussy, Sylus’ head lowering to get a better look.

“So delicate, little sorceress,” he whispers, his claws pulling apart your puffy folds to find your glistening pussy. “A bud,” Sylus continues, the flat of his scaled finger brushing your swollen clit tentatively, “like a flower.”

A needy whimper escapes you, hips bucking up under his exploratory touch. It’s nothing like when you used to touch yourself in the privacy of your small room within the walls of Justitia. Sylus’ touch is rough, textured, heightening the feeling that makes your clit pulse with want.

“Please,” you beg breathily, fingers reaching out to grasp his horns, “please, I- I need more.”

“But I am not yet done,” Sylus replies, peering up at you to watch the expression on your face when he rubs your clit more firmly.

“Sylus!” you whine, “the ache is too much!”

The dragon between your thighs huffs out an amused breath, the hot air making you shiver.

“So demanding,” he sighs, leaning forward to kiss your clit. “Although I do enjoy seeing you so… uninhibited, beloved.” 

You push his head towards your cunt, growing impatient, although being careful not to jostle his horns too much. Sylus groans when he tastes you for the first time, his rough tongue gliding through your wet folds.

A gasp leaves you when he flicks his tongue against your clit, a tremor settling through your bones as you writhe atop the grass. Sylus holds you in place, a pleased purr sounding as he nuzzles deeper into the wetness of your cunt, his tongue lapping and laving over the velvety flesh of your pussy.

“Oh,” you breathe out, eyes squeezing shut when you feel the dig of his claws into your flesh, coupled with his mouth on your pussy, “S- Sylus, oh yes.”

Sylus hums into your cunt, his tongue swirling around your clit, collecting your slick into his mouth, drinking it down as if it were the very essence of your soul.

“You taste sweet, my little love,” Sylus rasps, his claws pulling apart your folds so he can prod at your aching hole, feeling the needy clench of it around his tongue when he presses it in. “Sweeter than any wine I have ever tasted.”

“You- nghh- you exaggerate,” you mewl, tugging at his hair gently, your fingers stroking the base of his horns.

Sylus shudders, his head tipping forward into your touch. “I do not,” he growls, nipping at your thigh in a show of disagreement. “I would keep you on my mouth every night if you allowed me and drive you mad with pleasure.”

You smile hazily when you hear his words, hips rolling up to meet his mouth when he sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue stroking across the swollen bud lazily.

“Are we not already mad?”

“Perhaps we are,” Sylus responds, his hips grinding into the clothes beneath him. “But I should be glad to be mad with you.”

A soft, content sigh leaves you as you lose yourself in the sensation of his tongue. It swirls through your folds, presses into your cunt every so often whenever Sylus loses interest in your clit for a brief moment.

He never strays far however, his chest rumbling with his own contentedness as he buries his face deeper into your cunt, breathing in your scent. Sylus sucks at your clit with renewed fervor when he feels the tensing of your thighs against his claws.

“I can feel you, little love,” Sylus rasps, his voice low and rumbling. “Come undone on my tongue.” He presses an affectionate kiss to your clit before latching his mouth onto it more firmly.

“Sy- Sylus,” you whimper, legs beginning to jerk as the pleasure grows.

He growls into your pussy, his mouth working faster, tongue swirling and slurping until you have no choice but to cum. You cry out, his name leaving you in disjointed syllables, heavy pants breaking your cries.

Your thighs squeeze around his head, until his tail wraps around one of your legs, pulling you open so he can drink from you until sated. Overstimulation makes you sensitive, whimpers and whines leaving you as you pull at his horns.

“It is too much,” you mewl, “I- I cannot-”

“You can,” Sylus murmurs, spreading you open wider, exposing you completely, “you will for me.”

The dragon devours you again, his fangs sinking deep into the flesh of your thigh. Your blood and slick mixes together and Sylus feels as though he is being torn apart from within, your taste heating his own blood until he can no longer hold back.

You cum again on his tongue, back arching before you writhe violently, fingers grasping for anything and everything, uprooting the flowers nearby as you attempt to gain some semblance of stability.

Sylus gives you some reprieve, his tongue lapping over your puffy pussy gently, his lips pressing against your clit and the mark his teeth have left on your inner thigh.

He rises up to find you limp, unable to stop the shudders that jerk through your body from the immense pleasure.

“Little love?” he murmurs, a claw tapping against your cheek.

A pout makes your lips jut out when you blink up at him blearily, brows furrowing into a glare. Sylus smiles, his head dipping to brush a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“You are beautiful,” Sylus says, his hand stroking over your hair soothingly, claws running through your hair.

“I want to do the same,” you whisper, your hand reaching down between your bodies to find his cock. “I want you in my mouth.”

It’s harder than before, pre-cum smeared across the tip, warm globs dripping onto your stomach. You wrap your hand around him, squirming around in an attempt to get onto your knees.

“Another time,” Sylus murmurs, stopping you from getting closer to his cock, his tongue licking into your mouth.

“Now,” you demand, blinking up at him, still a little dazed. “Now, Sylus.”

“Another time,” Sylus repeats firmly, his lips descending upon yours again.

“There- there will be no other time!” you protest, peering up at him desperately, your lower lip trembling.

You only speak the truth, and it angers you. The cruelty of fate has begun to wrap its remorseless fingers around your heart, squeezing and squeezing until you feel your heart give, clenching painfully.

“Never say that!” Sylus snaps suddenly, his hands cupping your cheeks. He presses himself against you, forehead touching yours. “There will-” there’s a tremor in his voice, “there will be another time. Always.”

How many more lies will you both tell yourselves? 

You bite back the sob building in your throat, crushing the sense of helplessness by pulling Sylus closer and pressing your lips against his feverishly. 

The dragon grips you harder, his tail winding around you tightly, holding you to him as he returns your kisses.

“Take me,” you beg when he lays you down again, “Sylus, claim me, please.”

“I will,” he hushes your cries with a kiss, “I will, little love. You will be by my side till the end of time.”

Sylus grasps his cock, breathing heavily, your panting breaths mixing together. He notches his cock against your drenched cunt, pushing in slowly. You both share a moan, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. The scales dig into your skin, his claws digging into your hips deeper, pain flaring across your skin.

It’s enough to distract you from the rampant thoughts of loss however, your mind clouding with every inch of Sylus’ cock that sinks into you.

“So- so tight,” he grunts out, his hips moving slowly.

You can feel his knot, slipping in and out of you, tugging on the edges of your cunt every now and again with how swollen it’s become. His cock splits you open, your soft moans sounding into the vast flower field as you reach up, hugging him to you.

Sylus thinks you sound as sweet as the scent of the blooming flowers.

He lowers his body, his weight almost crushing you but you need this, need him as close as possible to convince yourself that this is happening.

“More,” you whimper, pressing sloppy kisses to his jaw, “ruin me, take me apart.”

“You- hah-” Sylus’ eyes squeeze shut when he feels the tight clench of your cunt around his cock, “you mustn’t say such things.”

“And yet,” you whimper, dazed eyes finding his, “and yet, oh- I desire- ngh- it desperately.”

“If that is what you wish,” he whispers, kissing your forehead gently.

You moan loudly, the wanton sounds mixing with his low groans and growls when he swirls his hips, cock pressing into you deeper. His heavy balls slap against your ass, both of you uncaring of the lewd sounds as he thrusts his hips in and out of you, cock driving in deep.

Sylus’ knot sinks into place with each deep, rolling thrust he gives you, popping out whenever he draws his hips back. You’re slurring, hardly able to see him properly, clinging to him, legs wrapping around his waist.

He grunts, shifting your legs higher, away from the sharp, spiked scales that line his tails. 

They say the dragon is dangerous, the epitome of sin and yet he cares for you dearly, his lips trailing across your skin with such reverence that makes your body ache.

“You are mine,” Sylus growls, his carmine eyes glowing as he peers down at you. “Every inch of you, half of your soul, it is all mine.”

“Yours!” you hiccup, the pleasure making you feel numb, “always yours!”

Sylus moans deeply, and your hazy eyes catch the frantic sway of his tail behind him, his hips snapping harder and faster, your pussy struggling to accommodate and keep up with the ever-swelling knot at the base of his cock.

The sheer feral nature that seems to take over your dragon has you whining, a sharp scream leaving you when you feel his fangs bite into the still healing wound on your neck.

Blood flows freely from the bite and Sylus growls at the taste, losing his grip before tightening again. His claws prick at your thighs and hips, drawing more blood until it’s smeared across your skin. Your skin is just as red as the flowers in the field.

Your nails rake down his back, feeling driven wild by pain and ecstasy. Your own teeth sink into his shoulder, a soft whimper escaping you.

“Bite,” Sylus rasps, his hand on the back of your head, urging your teeth to sink in deeper, “harder, little love, harder.”

And you do bite. You mewl as you sink your teeth into the flesh of his shoulder, his blood wetting your tongue and lips and the taste is intoxicating. Your mind swirls as you feel the harsh thrust of his cock bullying inside of you over and over again, tongue lapping at the marks your teeth have left on his shoulder.

You can taste his blood and you can feel the searing pain and you- this- this is real.

This is real. This is real. This is real.

Your mind chants the affirmation as you tell it to yourself firmly, biting harder into him as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Take it, beloved,” Sylus whispers hoarsely, pressing his face back into the crook of your neck, “take my cock and my knot. Let me claim you.”

“W- wait,” you begin to gasp, eyes widening with panic when Sylus manages to bully his cock into your pussy enough, the knot catching finally. 

You squeak, unable to comprehend the feeling of being plugged up so full. It’s entirely too swollen to pop free, your poor pussy fluttering around the thickness of it. Sylus isn’t faring much better, his hips jerking and halting when he feels the clench of your cunt, and how his knot has practically held you both in place.

“Yes,” he snarls, low and throaty, his hips swaying a little to grind his cock into you. “Mine, finally mine, little love.”

The press of his scaled claw against your clit has you screaming again, his name leaving you hoarsely as you cum on his knot. Your orgasm is violent, the tight coil in your lower stomach snapping sharply as you come apart, thighs twitching and body shaking.

Sylus sinks his fangs into your neck again and you cry out, softer this time, holding him to your neck and letting him lap at your blood.

He shudders, the taste of your blood coupled with the feel of your fluttering walls around his knot making his cock jerk and balls clench. Sylus cums with a throaty roar, his claws landing on either side of you as he hunches over.

Pleasure racks through his body whilst hot, thick cum floods your pussy unable to leak out and instead held in place by his throbbing knot. You whimper, mind feeling syrupy when Sylus rumbles and purrs, nuzzling into your breasts and then your cheeks, another hot load of cum spilling into you when his cock kicks at the squeeze of your cunt.

You kiss him clumsily, motions clouded by the haze of intimacy. Sylus sighs into your mouth, stroking your hair gently. You both lay there, surrounded by flowers, panting and unwinding.

His knot deflates after several minutes, softening cock pulling free. His cum spills out of you and Sylus watches with a frown, wishing his cum would stay stuffed inside of you.

Sylus rolls off of you when you tap his shoulder, his tail curling around you to bring to lay atop him. You don’t say anything, face pressing into the crook of his neck.

“Your desires are cruel,” you whisper, feeling his arms tighten around you.

“As are yours, little love,” Sylus says softly.

You sniffle, pressing a kiss to the steady beat of his pulse just under his jaw before shifting to kiss the glowing stone embedded in his chest.

Sylus shudders, his claws flexing around your skin. You kiss the stone again, beginning to cry when the stone’s glow begins to dim.

There’s a strange chill that makes your skin crawl, the familiar scent of the chapel invading your lungs.

“No,” you sob, peering up at Sylus, “not yet, please, please!”

Sylus smiles down at you, his expression forlorn. “I love you,” he says quietly, brushing a kiss to your forehead, sitting up to pull you onto his lap.

“I need more time,” you whisper, kissing him despite the growing coldness in the air. “We need more time.”

Hope had made you both fools. Sylus had claimed you in a withering graveyard.

You’re weeping when you ask him the question.

“Will you make the flowers bloom for me, Sylus?”

Your dragon kisses you fiercely.

“Always.”

Sylus’ emboldened oath is the only memory your fingers can latch onto when the dank atmosphere of the chapel awakens you.

The bell of the chapel rings loudly and you sob, scrabbling at his shoulders, trying to pull Sylus closer. You scream when the Sacred Judicator tears you from Sylus, the pull of his soul tugging violently at your chest. 

A week later, the dragon’s curse rings true. 

You no longer feel the warmth of his soul, for your beloved is dead.

[thetreetopinn]

Sources for Somerton's Plagiarism from Hbomberguy's Video (as much as I could get)

I went back through Harry's video, focused entirely on the sources James Somerton pulled from in the hopes of creating as much of a comprehensive list as I could--though my Google-Fu is not very strong. I did however find something I thought was forever lost and that made me very happy--specifically the magazine Midlands Zone containing the column by Steven Spinks that Harry poignantly used as an illustration of gay erasure... while Somerton uses it to sound like HE is waxing remorseful about the very subject.

This is not a complete list, I'm sure. For one thing, I was only able to attempt to pull sources that Harry himself mentioned in the video. Surely there's so very much more out there. I expect there to be a great deal more internet archeology to unearth just how much writing and culture Somerton has stolen like he's the British Museum of Natural History but for gay people.

- - - - -

Harry's list of mentioned youtubers:

Alexander Avila - https://www.youtube.com/@alexander_avila Matt Baume - https://www.youtube.com/@MattBaume Khadija Mbowe - https://www.youtube.com/@KhadijaMbowe Lady Emily - https://www.youtube.com/@LadyEmilyPresents Shanspeare - https://www.youtube.com/@Shanspeare RickiHirsch - https://www.youtube.com/@RickiHirsch VerilyBitchie - https://www.youtube.com/@verilybitchie

Harry created a convenient playlist of videos by these and other people he wants to bring to everyone's attention.

Please give them your support.

- - - - -

Midlands Zone Magazine - Column by Steven Spinks

After a great deal of searching, I found an archive of the "Midlands Zone" magazine, where you can read through past issues dating all the way back to February 2014. I have also found the issue from which Somerton took Spinks' poignant discussion of gay erasure: Overall archive Specific Issue - Pages 16-17

It will not allow you to download it, but you can read it exactly as it appeared in print form.

- - - - -

My best effort to find the exact book or article Somerton lifted from to be able to get attention to the original writers

Tinker Bells and Evil Queens By Sean Griffin

The Celluloid Closet By Vito Russo Wikipedia article about the book Wikipedia article about the documentary My weak google-fu could not find where you can access the book or documentary. Check your local municipal or university library for book or documentary, or if you know a good source for one or both, please reblog with it added

Camp and the Gay Sensibility By Jack Babuscio

The Groundbreaking Queerness of Disney's Mulan By Jes Tom Personal site with links to social media accounts

Why Rebel Without a Cause was a milestone for gay rights By Peter Howell

Why "The Craft" is still the best Halloween coming out movie By Andrew Park

Opinion: From facehuggers to phallic tails, is 'Alien' one of the queerest films ever? By Dani Leever

Women and Queerness in Horror: Jennifer's Body By Zoe Fortier

[Pride 2019] We Have Such Sights to Show You: Hellraiser and the Spectrum of Queerness By Alejandra Gonzalez

Revealing the Hellbound Heart of Clive Barker's 'Hellraiser' By Colin Arason

Queering James Cameron's Aliens (1986) By Bart Bishop

Demeter and Persephone in space: transformation, femininity, and myth in the 'Alien' films By David Greven

Fears of a millennial masculinity: Scream's queer killers By David Greven (Scholarly site, unable to access original work, offers a way to request a full copy of the text in PDF)

Queer Subtext in Stephen King's It - Part 1: 'Reddie' Character Analysis By Rachel Brands Rachel is the very unfortunate lady who found out she was being stolen from because she supported Somerton through Patreon and saw one of his videos early with her writing--lacking any form of citation or credit

How 'It: Chapter Two' Leaves Richie Tozier Behind By Joelle Monique

When Horror Becomes Strength: Queer Armor in Stephen King's 'IT' By Alex London

Why Queer People Love Witchcraft By Amanda Kohr

'The Favourite' Queers The Past And The Present By Giorgi Plys-Garzotto

(Wuko) Crush (Mako x Wu) By MoonFlower on YouTube

5 Terrible Movies With Awesome Hidden Meanings By J.F. Sargent

The Radicalization of Sexuality: The Queer Casae of Jeffrey Dahmer By Ian Barnard

Netflix's 'Dahmer' backlash highlights ethical issues in the platform's obsession with true crime By Shivani Dubey

The Possible Disturbing Dissonance Between Hajime Isayama's Beliefs and Attack on Titan's Themes Original Article by "Seldom Musings" (Author has made all posts not related to Attack On Titan private and has retired from the blog)

Everyone Loves Attack on Titan. So Why Does Everyone Hate Attack on Titan? By Gita Jackson

- - - - -

The following people are otherwise named in the video. There are no direct citations of articles or books by them in said video. I am unable to guarantee that I have identified the correct individual.

Darren Elliott-Smith Michaela Barton David Church Claire Sisco King Amanda Howell Jessica Roy

- - - - -

Telos announced and cancelled a film likely based on this book: The Final Girl Support Group - By Grady Hendrix

- - - - -

I refrained from including certain sources.

First off only focusing on Somerton's work.

Secondly not including anything that might be visible enough to not require amplifying their voice (I cannot speak for all of those I have found links to, but journalism is frequently a thankless job).

Thirdly any source that is of a nature that is antithetical to the very existence of the queer community, such as the right-leaning source that didn't make it into Somerton's video, but Harry was able to identify as a source he had considered using.

If you feel I have missed a mentioned source--or you know of a source from material that was not covered in Harry's video--please do not hesitate to reblog with added details.

- - - - -

Please share this information far and wide, and please add to it if you find more material that can be positively identified and linked to the creator/writer.

[libraford]

A local organization here has released a list of books that they feel are imperative to have in the time ahead. The list was not easily shareable, so I copy-pasted it here.

There is no need to read all of these, but one thing you can do that takes little effort is call your library and see if they have them in stock.

If you are moneyed, you can buy some copies and put them in little free libraries.

EDUCATING FOR ADVOCACY BOOK LIST

All books are written by authors from that culture

BOOKS FOR ADULTS

(2024) Be a Revolution: How Everyday People are Fighting Oppression and Changing the World - and How You Can, Too by Ijeoma Oluo

Each chapter discusses how someone is advocating for oppressed populations

and has examples of how others can do the same or similar.

(2024) The Message by Ta-Nehisi Coates

The author travels to Senegal, South Carolina and Palestine and grapples with deep questions and emotions.

(2023) Better Living Through Birding: Notes From a Black Man in the Natural World by Christian Cooper

A memoir of a Black man learning to claim space for himself and others like him.

(2022) Myth America: Historians Take On the Biggest Legends and Lies about Our Past Edited by Kevin M. Kruse and Julian E. Zelizer

The title explains it so well.

(2022) South to America: A Journey Below the Mason Dixon to Understand the Soul of a Nation by Imani Perry

History, rituals, and landscapes of the American South and why they must be understand it in order to understand America.

(2022) Memphis by Tara M. Stringfellow

Tells the story of 3 generations of a Southern Black family in Memphis.

(2021) How the Word is Passed: A Reckoning with the History of Slavery Across America by Clint Smith

An exploration of important monuments and landmarks in the USA that show

how slavery has been foundational in the development and history of our country.

(2021) The Sum of Us: What Racism Costs Everyone and How We Can Prosper Together by Heather McGhee

The title explains it.

(2021) The Seed Keeper by Diane Wilson

Historical fiction telling the story of several generations of a Dakota family

(2020) The Good Immigrant: 26 Writers Reflect on America edited by Nikesh Shukla and Chimene Suleyman

26 authors share their stories of living in the USA.

(2020) Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents by Isabel Wilkerson

Examines the unspoken caste system that has shaped America and shows how we continue to be defined in this way..

(2020) This Is What America Looks Like: My Journey from Refugee to Congresswoman

by Ilhan Omar

This title explains it.

(2019) The 1619 Project: A New Origin Story by Nikole Hannah Jones (among others)

Reframes our understanding of American history by placing slavery and its continuing legacy at the center of our national narrative.

(2019) Things are Good Now by Djamila Ibrahim

Stories of how migrants sort out their lives in foreign lands.

(2018) So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo

An examination of race in America.

(2018) I’m Still Here by Austin Channing Brown

A memoir telling her journey of learning to love her blackness while navigating America's racial divide.

(2018) If They Come for Us by Fatimah Asghar

Poetry that captures the experience of being a Pakistani Muslim woman in contemporary America, while exploring identity, violence, and healing.

(2016) Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of History of Racist Ideas in America by Ibram X. Kendi

Traces the history of Black America.

(2015) Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

A memoir, in the form of a letter to his young son, telling his personal experiences with racism and violence in the United States.

(2015) My Seneca Village by Marilyn Nelson

Poetry and information about Seneca Village – a multi-racial, multi-ethnic neighborhood in the center of Manhattan (Central Park ) that thrived in the mid-19th century.

(2014) An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz

Tells the 400+ years of US history, from the perspective of Indigenous peoples

(2013) Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom Scientific Knowledge, and the Teaching of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer

Explores the place of plants and botany in both Indigenous and Western life.

(2010) The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration by Isabel Wilkerson

Follows the stories of three Black Americans’ migration journeys from Mississippi, Florida and Louisiana.

(2010) The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness

By Michelle Alexander

Explains how we haven’t ended, but have redesigned, the caste system in the U.S.

(1972) Lame Deer, Seeker of Visions by John (Fire) Lame Deer and Richard Erdoes

Told by Lame Deer, a Lakota medicine man, this memoir teaches the history of Indigenous people in the USA.

BOOKS FOR GRADES K-12

GRADES 7 - 12

(2021) Firekeeper’s Daughter by Angeline Boulley

The novel's main character is a young woman with a French mother and an Ojibwe father, who often feels torn between cultures.

(2021) The 1619 Project: Born on the Water by Nikole Hannah-Jones and Renée Watson

Illustrated by Nikkolas Smith

Tells the story and consequences of American slavery in verse.

(2020) Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You by Jason Reynolds and Ibram X. Kendi

Shorter and appropriate for middle and high schoolers.

(2020) All Boys Aren’t Blue by George M. Johnson

Series of personal essays about the author’s life growing up as a gay, black man.

(2020) Dictionary for a Better World: Poems, Quotes, and Anecdotes from A to Z by Irene Latham and Charles Waters Illustrated by Mehrdokt Amini

Explained in title.

(2020) Woke: A Young Poet’s Call to Justice by Mahogany L. Browne with Elizabeth Acevedo and Olivia Gatewood Illustrated by Theodore Taylor III

Poetry about fighting for racial justice through joy and passion.

(2020) Be Amazing: A History of Pride by Desmond Is Amazing Illustrated by Dylan Glynn

The history of Pride, with bold illustrations, focusing on the importance of embracing one’s own uniqueness and tuning out the haters.

(2020) Dear Justyce (Dear Martin #2) by Nic Stone

Continues the story of Justyce from Dear Martin in a series of flashbacks and letters.

(2020) Punching the Air by Ibi Zoboi and Yusef Salaam

A novel in verse about a boy who is wrongfully incarcerated.

(2019) Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kobab

The author tells the story of life as a nonbinary person in graphic novel form.

(2019) An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States for Young People original book by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz adapted by Debbie Rees and Jean Mendoza

Shorter and appropriate for middle and high schoolers

(2017) Sea Prayer by Khalad Hosseini Illustrated by Dan Williams

Written as a poetic letter, from father to son, this is a story of the journey of refugees.

(2017) Dear Martin (Dear Martin #1) by Nic Stone

A story of the realities of a Black teen living in America.

(2015) All American Boys by Jason Reynolds and Brendan Kiely

From the perspective of two teenage boys, one Black and one White, a story is told with the realization that racism and prejudice are still alive and well.

(2015) Beyond Magenta: Transgender and Nonbinary Teens Speak Out by Susan Kuklin

The author interviewed six transgender for gender-neutral young adults and lets

them tell their story.

(2011) Heart and Soul: The Story of America and African Americans written and illustrated by Kadir Nelson

The title explains it well

GRADES 4 - 6

(2023) An American Story by Kwame Alexander illustrated by Dare Coulter

Tells the story, poetically and honestly, about American slavery

(2023) Step by Step!: How the Lincoln School Marchers Blazed a Trail to Justice

by Debbie Rigaud and Carlotta Penn illustrated by Nysha Pierce

Tells the story of a group of Black mothers and children and their two-year march to integrate an Ohio elementary school.

(2022) Say Their Names by Caroline Brewer illustrated by Adrian Brandon

A young Black girl leads a #BlackLivesMatter protest march.

(2021) Stamped (For Kids): Racism, Antiracism, and You by Jason Reynolds and Ibram X. Kendi.

Shorter, more kid friendly version of Stamped from the Beginning.

(2021) Unspeakable: The Tulsa Race Massacre by Carole Boston Weatherford illustrated by Floyd Cooper

Traces the history of this African-American ‘Wall Street District’ and its destruction by White supremacists.

(2016). I Dissent: Ruth Bader Ginsburg Makes Her Mark by Debbie Levy illustrated by Elizabeth Baddeley

The life and work of RBG told in picture book form.

(2008) Silent Music: A Story of Baghdad written and illustrated by James Rumford

Ancient and recent history of Baghdad from the perspective of a young boy.

(2005) Show Way by Jacqueline Woodson illustrated by Hudson Talbott

Traces the history of the ‘show way’ quilt from slavery through freedom.

(2005) My Name is Bilal by Asma Mobin-Uddin illustrated by Barbara Kiwak

Muslim-American student experiencing religious prejudice.

(2005). Amelia to Zora: Twenty-Six Women Who Changed the World by Cynthia Chin-Lee Ilustrated by Megan Halsey and Sean Addy

An alphabet book that teaches about the extraordinary lives of 26 women.

(1978). The Other Way to Listen by Byrd Baylor and Peter Parnall

Helps children learn about indigenous cultures.

GRADES PRE-K - 3

(2023) These Olive Trees: A Palestinian Family’s Story written and illustrated by Aya Ghanameh

A story of a young girl and her family in Nablus, Palestine, 1967

(2020). Antiracist Baby by Ibram X. Kendi illustrated by Ashley Lukashvsky

Teaches young children how to be an antiracist.

(2016). When We Were Alone by David A. Robertson and Julie Flett

A young, indigenous girl learns about her grandmother’s experience in a

residential school.

(2013). A is for Activist by Innosanto Nagara (board book)

An ABC book that teaches children about being an activist.

[tahbhie]

How Plot Progression Works—Myths and Facts.

Let me start with a myth.

Last week, a writer approached me with their half-finished draft, unsure how to continue. Apparently, they got writer's block in the middle of the work. For about thirty minutes, we discussed the book freely as if it were a finished and published work.

Then I realized the issue.

☞ The problem?

From the conversation, I noticed that the writer's thoughts and ideas, which they voiced for the book, totally contradicted what they had written.

Their book followed a sequence of events. It was well-calculated, and the plot progression was on point but only to a certain level. I noticed robotic recurrences.

Something like this:

Scene 1— a sudden revelation

Scene 2— an unexpected fight

Scene 3— introduction of a new character

Scene 4— a conflict

Scene 5— another sudden revelation

Scene 6— an unexpected fight

Scene 7— introduction of a new character

Scene 8— a conflict

Meanwhile, all these elements didn't tie to each other in the story. They just performed different roles in each scene and were rendered useless in the next and every other scene that followed.

☞ Why did this happen?

Among other reasons, being extremely rigid with writing advice is a main factor.

Writing advice is great, but don't bend your style to suit the rules; bend the rules to suit your style.

Here's a clearer example of what I'm talking about.

Writing advice often says to keep readers on the edge of their seats within the first five pages, but this doesn't mean introducing unrealistic problems that don't fit your story. For example, introducing a sudden and improbable conflict just to add excitement can disrupt the flow and believability of your plot

During our session, I already understood how to assist, and we were setting our comfortable hours when the writer suddenly said, "I was told to include conflict in the middle of the book, then I ran out of ideas when I got there. I could have added one just a few pages in because I believe it would do well there, but again, I was unsure if that would make sense."

Now, who said conflict can't start a book? When you start your book with a conflict, you just have to ensure that you build towards 'the reason' behind the conflict so your readers can understand.

☞ Should I follow every writing advice with a closed mind?

No, you shouldn't. Remember that you are writing that book because you want to, and your idea was great enough to convince you to actually write. You need to enjoy the process and create what you truly want to create. Follow instructions flexibly.

Now that the myth is out of the way, let's talk about things that make a plot.

➜ Basic plot elements.

Initially, your plot should have the following:

✧ Protagonist ✧

Who are readers following in the story? Make that clear in the first few chapters. If you're writing from a first-person point of view and plan on switching between characters, aim for a maximum of two characters. It becomes clear that those two characters are an important part of the story; hence, they get the privilege to narrate the story from their respective views.

✧ Goals and objectives ✧

What is your protagonist after? Here's one thing you should know: your character doesn't have to know what they want at the beginning of the story. They may be as confused about their life as anyone reading, but as the story unfolds, they find a goal worth reaching and discover the needed strength to reach the goal.

✧ Antagonist ✧

What/Who is standing as a threat? A threat is hell-bent on ruining your protagonist and stopping them from achieving their goals. An antagonist could be an object or a human. It all depends on the concept you aim for. Funny enough, the antagonist could be a lie that starts out seemingly small but ends up being harmful. The rom-com movie "Upgraded" is an example of this concept. The lie the art enthusiast told was the greatest trouble she faced.

✧ Conflict ✧

What are the problems the protagonist faces? Problems can start from anywhere over anything, and you can choose to make them mild and solvable at first while building up to something larger.

✧ Resulting consequences ✧

What happens after the protagonist faces the trouble and tries to solve it? Did they lose anything? Hurt someone? Earn support from people they least expect?

✧ Character arc ✧

How has the journey shaped your protagonist? After going through something they probably never saw coming, how has it changed them? For a timid main character at the beginning of the story, do they finally become brave and display a different side of themselves?

All these are important for a well-rounded story as a whole.

Join the Writers' Universe and connect with like-minded writers.

➜ Secondary plot elements

These elements help you shape the above category.

● Setbacks

Let's use movies to illustrate this. There are certain points where we lose hope for the main character, almost convinced they've lost. We see them at their weakest points, hurt that the antagonist got them good. These moments are the setbacks. The protagonist is made vulnerable.

● Loss

What did the setback cost them? The reason I intentionally labeled this as loss is because to move a plot forward, some things need repairing. Since most loose ends were already from the beginning of the story, adding a fresh loss piques the reader's interest. It doesn't have to be the death of someone. It could be the brutal end of an alliance formed on an emotional scale.

● Break of a new dawn

I just wanted to get creative with the title. This point marks the pivotal change of events, and once again, there's hope for the protagonist as they find solutions to their problems. In this stage, they discover hidden abilities within themselves (this isn't limited to fantasy).

And there you have the important sections of plot progression. But keep these few things in mind. To ensure you're not leaving a huge gap in your plot, try to:

┗→ Introduce elements that work for your story:

It's common to believe something works well simply because it did in your favorite book. You might want to reconsider that with a different mindset.

┗→ Tie elements together:

Of course, this doesn't apply to all, but try to create a link between events in your story. If a fight occurred in a scene, link it to a cause in a few scenes ahead. This can lead to another conflict, this time on a larger scale, without having to introduce something entirely different.

And back to the question that birthed this post:

ᴥ Should conflict come early or not?

It depends on your work, but it can come early. That's not taboo.

There was a movie I watched featuring a female lawyer as the protagonist. The movie started with the kidnap of her only child, and the rest of the scenes drove us to the 'cause,’ then more conflicts, setbacks, and finally resolution. We were also able to explore the character’s personality based on the decisions she took in different emotional scenes.

She tried to keep her calm in some scenes while she just flat-out threw a tantrum in others, but overall, she was a strong woman who was broken by the incidents occurring and then rebuilt. I read a book with the same premise: the main character was a tween who misplaced something precious and decided to go on an adventure to search for it, and that was what the story was built upon.

I always tell writers one thing—own your book. The first draft seems to be the toughest one of its pair, but if you don't allow yourself to freely express your thoughts, there will be no first draft or story at all.

✧✧✧✧

Struggling with any stages of writing? Send me a message, and let's sort it out for a suitable fee.

✧✧✧✧

Do you want to create characters readers are compelled to start a fandom for?

Check out "My Characters and I" extensive coaching session. Understand the secret behind every attractive character. The slots are limited, and this opportunity closes once capacity is reached. Don't miss it; you never know when you’ll stumble upon these golden gates again.

[kyri45]

Not me abusing the asks to both share my love for the bioparents AU AND rant about the panels because none of my friends are in the LMK fandom and I'm suffering here so TAKE MY LOVE AND APPRECIATION ABOUT YOUR ART I guess x)

So first of all

I am a SUCKER for that kind of leaning in frames I'm going to print that and plaster it on my wall THEY ARE EVERYTHING /hj

I almost jumped of my chair when this one popped up YOU FED US GOOD its so worth the angst train incoming. Of course the panels before and after were equally as amazing but if I start going about every single panel we're still here in three days AT THE VERY LEAST LOL

Of course this one made me laugh like please their little faces

Using that to point out how much I love ALLLLLLL the silly faces you put in your comics I'm munching on them every single time they're crushy like chips or something just. Nom nom. Yummy.

Poor Nesha (Nesha? Nezha? Neja? I have no idea on how to write his name I already forgor LMAO) needs to be payed more. He tries to save MK and ends up dealing with two lovesick teenagers demons who have no concept of time/place/occasion apparently. Poor him. He gets a pat on the head for his troubles

And of course just the "NOPE I'M KEEPING HIM" mode and honestly we should have seen it coming- Red son was planning to courtnap him and didn't sleep in the past 5 days so he's not having any bullshit YOU'RE NOT TAKING HIS NOODLE BOY AWAY-

Could bet he spent so long thinking about the cournapping in the 5 past days his brain just cannot process that yeah maybe you need to let him down you're just going to drag him in more troubles- Either that or he's just going full protective mode. Both options are good anyways sooooo :)

We stan a protective boyfriend in this house.

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And finally I'm SOOOOO hyped about whatever is coming next like I know that technically we're supposed to suffer but please I climbed up the angst train so many times now I'm just enjoying it by that point lol. It'll just make the following fluff even more worth it

Also I cannot wait to see MK's plan about the contract I'm so curious I'm dying I love you boys but I really want the plot to progress you can go back to kissing later lol

Finally, thank you for creating this AU. It's stumbling randomly upon it on my tik tok fyp that dragged me into watching Lego Monkie Kid and really THANK YOU FOR THAT. It's such an amazing show I CANNOT BELIEVE I didn't discovered it sooner so really thank for having created this comic because else I could have missed LMK and that would be just saaaad

Fun fact: since I had never interacted with LMK the first time I read your comic, I for some reason thought Macaque was a female (and I probably would have thought the same of Wukong if he wasn't called... well, Wukong because I randomly stumbled upon the myth's Wikipedia page at some point in my life XD). The shock I felt when I heard Macaque for the first time in the show because his voice was soooooo not what I expected x) I'm still laughing at myself to this day

So yeah, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, and I can't wait to see what you're going to pull next :D Wish you allllll the best <3

(I can totally wait, of course, it's just a figure of speech. Take your time, I could wait forever for the next chapter)

ahaha thank you for such a lovely comment!! Glad the scene gived "MINE" vibes as I was planning ahah.

Youu're welcome! It's an honor to serve this fandom. *bows*