#this is above all else a story about love

[jezebelblues]

I just started following you a while ago and I love your work so much, I was even considering restarting my blog to write!

I was wondering, can I request something about the reader being a college student? And maybe harry is taking a break from touring and writing music. He’d probably try to make jokes and distract her sometimes, but he’d also want her to teach him stuff and debrief after class. He might even get serious about her study sessions and be super quiet, but also bring her snacks here and there.

If you get to write this, thank you sm!! 😊

lady grinning soul | h.s

summary: see request ^ basically that, but it’s a slight au because harry isn’t tooooo famous in this

| thank u anon <3 ur too sweet. i hope u got back into writing

cw: fem!reader, unedited. bf!harry, lhh

word count: approx 4.4k

| sorry this took so long to get to! i’ve been in a slump. i hope you don’t mind either that i made him more of an up-and-coming artist rather than the fame he has today :^) lhh just felt right for this too he’s so bf

"you did what?" YN laughed, her fingers coated in the smooth, familiar feel of one of harry's leave-in conditioners as she worked it into his damp curls, gently coaxing through knots and tangles that told stories of long nights and late shows.

harry sat on on leg while the other hung lazily off her bed, shirtless, his skin glistening faintly under the dim dorm lights, still cool and damp from his shower. a well-worn towel hung low on his hips, clinging to him in soft folds, and he twisted the silver ring on his index finger, flashing that crooked, boyish grin that still managed to make her heart skip.

"yes—water," he said, a hint of pride in his voice as he looked up at her through dark lashes. "poured it right into the crowd. they went mental."

she chuckled, focusing on a particularly stubborn knot as his head tipped back, giving her a better angle. "do i even want to know why you did that?"

"beer," he replied simply, with a lazy shrug and a mischievous glint in his eye. he shifted, turning to face her fully, the mattress giving a soft creak under his weight as he adjusted. "they were flinging beer at me, so i figured it was fair game. bit of payback," he said with a smirk, his voice deepening in that low, conspiratorial way that she adored.

her lips tugged into a soft smile as she leaned in, her eyes tracing the ink on his skin, pausing over the small mermaid tail curling near his elbow. she felt the room go still for a beat, her fingers just barely grazing his tattooed arm. "tell me more?" she murmured, barely above a whisper.

but instead of answering, he caught her hand in his own, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he brought her palm up, pressing it gently against the warm, bare skin just below his left breastbone. his expression softened, and his voice dipped, tender and a little unsteady. "was thinking–right here. your initial." his gaze searched hers, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that made her heart skip, lingering between them in a way that left her breathless.

a small, breathy laugh escaped her as she drew her hand back, fingers trailing down his chest as she settled back on the bed, her heart fluttering with that same familiar warmth that only he could draw out of her. "about the show, styles," she chided, though her cheeks had warmed at the idea. it was all she could do to keep her voice steady, even as that look in his eyes held her captive, that glimmer of something deeper, something unspoken.

with a lazy grin, he slumped back on her bed, folding his arms behind his head as if he owned every inch of this tiny dorm room. he was still her harry—the one who'd lean against her door at ungodly hours after a gig, smelling faintly of stale smoke and beer, his voice barely a murmur as he recounted the night's little victories and mishaps. but there was something else in his eyes tonight, an edge softened by the dim light, his hand inching toward hers, fingers grazing against hers.

he gave her a dramatic sigh, pretending to be exasperated, but she could see the way his eyes lit up, the pride he tried to hide. "alright, picture this—tiny, cramped stage, lights barely working, and a crowd that's already three drinks too deep."

she chuckled, already seeing it. "sounds like your crowd."

"my exact type.” he hummed, eyes glimmering. "i was halfway through kiwi when this guy in the front row starts singing louder than me. like, absolutely shouting every word—more like repeating guess, i don’t think he knew the lyrics—didn't care if he was off-key or not."

"oh no," she gasped, theatrics, biting back a grin. "how did you handle that?"

"well, first i tried to ignore him. y'know, be professional and all." he raised his chin, like he was already picturing himself on a real stage. "but then he threw his beer in the air, and half of it hit me, so i thought, why not join him?"

she felt the words settle over her, a quiet intimacy that wrapped around them, thick and warm. she let herself lean into him, their knees brushing, her hand finding his and lacing their fingers together. here, in this cocoon of her dimly lit dorm room, the outside world faded. it was just him-her’s, with his rough edges, inked skin, and soulful eyes that held a thousand unspoken promises.

"so," she murmured, her thumb tracing slow circles over his knuckles, "it was a good show then?"

a soft laugh escaped his lips, his eyes dancing as he looked at her. "good? better than good, baby." he said, a certain fire in his voice as he recalled the night. "place was packed-should've seen it. they might've only been there for the drink deals, but by the time we hit the first chorus, they were in it." he paused, a flicker of excitement lighting up his face as he leaned closer. "even had this one bloke shouting for an encore, practically begged us not t’leave."

she could see the pride, the kind that was so uniquely his—modest, but bursting at the seams, a quiet confidence that only she got to witness in moments like this. her heart swelled, and she squeezed his hand. "sounds like a big deal," she teased, her voice softening as she held his gaze. "next thing i know, you'll be playing to actual crowds, not just randoms at pubs."

"don't tease me," he chuckled, nudging her gently with his shoulder. "could happen. could be my big break, y'know? today, it's a back alley pub with sticky floors—tomorrow, a real venue." he looked at her, his expression shifting from playful to something quieter, almost vulnerable. "maybe even a place you'd be proud to be seen at."

she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "h, i'm already proud of you." and she meant it—down to the core of her. there was a strength in his persistence, his dreams kept alive by late nights and small crowds, his music spilling into the shadows of empty bars and dim lights. it was the kind of resilience most people never understood, but it was something she loved about him, something that made him feel like home.

his hand shifted, cupping her face gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek as he searched her eyes. "how'd i get so lucky, yeah?" he murmured, almost as if to himself. he looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time, the weight of the night lingering between them, the quiet promise of everything they'd built together.

she tilted her face into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as she breathed him in-the faint smell of his shampoo, mingling with the scent of rain from outside and something warm, something distinctly him. her hand found his chest, fingertips resting over the steady beat of his heart.

"can i stay tonight?" he asked softly, his voice a low murmur against the backdrop of their shared silence.

she nodded, her lips brushing over his knuckles as she squeezed his hand. "wouldn't want you anywhere else."

with that, he leaned forward, capturing her lips in a kiss that felt like a thousand words, soft and slow, as if they had all the time in the world. harry's hand slid from her cheek down to her neck, his fingertips tracing a delicate line along her collarbone, sending a soft shiver through her. the playful glint in his eye had shifted, replaced by something deeper, a heat she felt all the way down to her toes. he inched closer, the rough rasp of his stubble brushing her jaw as his lips found the soft skin just below her ear.

"you're staring," she murmured, voice low, a smile on her lips as her fingers traced along his shoulder, her touch grazing the edge of his tattoo.

"can't help it." he whispered, his voice low and rough, leaving no question about what he wanted. his fingers trailed down her back, pulling her just a little closer as his towel slipped dangerously low on his hips, clinging to him in a way that left little to the imagination. "s'not every day i get my girl all to myself, undistracted." his fingers slipped just beneath the hem of her shirt, his thumb stroking slow, lazy circles along her hipbone, sending a faint shiver up her spine.

she felt herself melting into him, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw before wandering down to rest on his chest. his skin was warm, firm beneath her touch, and she felt the steady beat of his heart thrumming under her fingertips. just for a moment, she let herself get lost in it-the way his hands roamed, slow and sure, his lips brushing her neck, her jaw, her shoulder, each kiss igniting a trail of warmth.

but as his hands started to wander lower, his towel barely hanging on, she bit back a smile and placed her hand flat on his abdomen, feeling the firm, taut muscles tense under her touch. she let her fingers linger for a moment before giving him a light flick, snapping him out of the haze that had taken over.

he kissed his teeth, head snapping up, a shocked, slightly betrayed expression crossing his face as he met her gaze. she smirked, letting her eyes trail up and down him with a playful glint before meeting his eyes, her voice light and teasing.

"don't get too excited, styles. i've got an essay to write, remember?"

he blinked, looking adorably lost for a second, then let out a groan, throwing himself back on the bed in dramatic defeat, one arm flung over his face. "an essay, bunny? now?" he peeked at her from under his arm, a playful pout tugging at his lips. "you're really gonna make me lie here in agony while you write about... what? politics? shakespeare?"

"modern lit," she corrected, grabbing her laptop from the bedside table with a grin. she settled beside him, nudging his leg with her knee as he sighed in exaggerated frustration. "i'll make it up to you," she added, her voice sweet but her expression mischievous.

"is that right?" he asked, raising a brow, his mood instantly lightening as he leaned up on one elbow to watch her type. "what kind of 'make it up' are we talking, then?"

she rolled her eyes, though her smile softened.

"you're ridiculous, you know that?"

“mm-hm, i know,” he chuckled, unbothered. he kept his eyes trained on her as she adjusted the computer in her lap, fingers flying across the keys as she tried to ignore his gaze.

but she could already feel his fingers tracing idle patterns along her thigh, his head resting on her shoulder as he sighed dramatically, determined to make her work for it. “fine,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to her shoulder, knowing she wasn’t going to let up. “but don’t say i didn’t warn you when i’m too tortured to focus on my next gig.”

she shook her head, grinning. “i think you’ll survive.” and despite his protests, she felt him settle beside her, his hand wrapped loosely around hers as he waited, patient and easy, for the essay to be done—and for the night to be theirs again.

after a few more minutes of him sighing and shifting beside her, nudging her leg with his knee, or letting his fingers brush distractingly over her shoulder, she finally gave him a pointed look. “lovey, come on. at least put some pants on,” she said, biting back a laugh as he gazed up at her with an exaggerated look of betrayal.

“y’sure baby?” he mumbled, the corners of his mouth tugging into a cheeky grin as he adjusted the towel around his waist, letting it dip low enough to reveal the line of his hip bones. he leaned in close, his face just inches from hers. “last chance to give up on that essay.”

she rolled her eyes, shoving him lightly as she tried to suppress a smile. “h. pants. now.”

he sighed dramatically, rolling off the bed and muttering under his breath as he crossed the room, as if she’d asked him to do something outrageous. “you’re cruel, you know that?” he grumbled, pulling on a pair of briefs, followed by his well-worn grey sweatpants. he shot her a mock glare as he snapped the waistband into place. “i hope that essay’s worth it,” he teased, flopping back down on the bed with another exaggerated groan.

but he couldn’t keep up the act for long. settling beside her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her snug against him as he leaned over her, his gaze shifting to the screen of her laptop. she felt him press a quick kiss to the side of her head, and then he tilted his head curiously, reading the words on her screen. “alright, genius. what’re we working on?”

she grinned, knowing his curiosity was genuine—harry was the only person who ever asked about her classes, who remembered the details of her projects, who even stayed up late to help her brainstorm ideas when she got stuck. “it’s for my modern lit paper,” she said, turning the laptop slightly so he could see the opening lines. “i’m writing about identity in contemporary poetry.”

his brow furrowed, and he gave a thoughtful hum. “identity, huh?” his fingers started playing with a strand of her hair, twisting it absently as he thought. it still smelt like her lavender shampoo. “so, like–how people see themselves? or how they think they should be seen?”

she nodded, feeling a warm flutter in her chest at the way he genuinely tried to understand. “yeah, lovey, exactly. it’s about how people present different versions of themselves, depending on the world around them. how sometimes people feel like they have to hide who they really are, or adapt, to fit in.”

he was quiet for a moment, his eyes thoughtful as he took that in, a small crease forming between his brows. “guess i know a bit about that,” he murmured, almost to himself, then gave her a soft smile. “makes sense, though. we’re all trying t’figure it out, right?”

she looked at him, her heart swelling at the way he always found a way to connect with her world, to show up and care. he wasn’t just the guy who played guitar in pubs and poured water over the crowd—he was thoughtful and reflective, her safe place and her biggest support. she reached out, brushing a stray curl away from his forehead, her gaze softening.

he met her eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched her type a few lines, completely relaxed against her side. “y’really like this stuff, don’t you?”

she nodded, feeling her cheeks warm. “i do. and i like that you care enough to ask.”

he grinned, his hand resting over hers on the keyboard. “wouldn’t miss it, bunny. i want to know it all. even the boring bits,” he teased, pressing another kiss to her temple. “so… what’s next? how do y’wrap this thing up?”

as she dove into her explanation, she felt him settle in closer, his head resting on her shoulder, eyes flicking back and forth between her face and the screen. and even though he’d begun the night wrapped in little more than that towel and mischief, there was something about the way he lay beside her now—calm, engaged, just there for her.

after a while, she tried to concentrate on the closing argument of her essay, but harry’s hand found a lock of her hair again, twirling it lazily around his finger, his touch warm and gentle. every so often, he’d place a quick, messy kiss on her cheek, or the side of her head, each one more dramatic than the last, until she couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, nudging him back.

“alright, enough with the distractions,” she muttered, shooting him a mock-stern look as he grinned back, clearly pleased with himself.

but he was relentless. when she referenced another poet, he piped up, a mischievous look in his eyes. “ah, yes, that guy,” he said, tone teasing as he tapped his chin as though he were deep in thought. “big fan. wrote that one poem about… feeling feelings, right?”

she rolled her eyes, biting back a laugh. “harry, i’m serious.”

“hey, i am too!” he replied, the grin on his face only widening. “poetry’s got layers, YN. all about emotions and metaphors.” he lifted an eyebrow, giving her a wink that made her want to laugh and push him off the bed all at once.

she groaned, turning back to her screen, though the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. despite his teasing, she knew he respected her work and thought she was smart, even if he pretended to be clueless just to get a rise out of her.

a few minutes passed, and she found herself stuck, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she struggled to find the right words to tie everything together. she could feel harry’s gaze on her, his eyes flicking between her face and the screen, and right then, her stomach gave a loud, unmistakable growl.

harry’s eyebrows shot up, and a playful, knowing smirk crossed his face. “oh, is that how it is, then?” he said, nudging her gently. “i’m over here pouring my heart and soul into supporting you, and you’re starving yourself for art.”

she laughed, rolling her eyes as she tried to wave him off. “it’s fine, i just need to—”

but he was already halfway across the room, grabbing his phone with a sense of purpose, tapping away with single-minded determination. “nope, not happening. i’m ordering us food. you’re no good to me fainting on the job,” he teased, tossing her a grin as he started scrolling through options on doordash.

she watched him, warmth blooming in her chest at the sight of his focused expression as he debated between a few late-night favorites. his finger paused on the screen, and he shot her a look over his shoulder. “what are we feeling? i know goodfella’s is open late.”

she hummed, folding her arms and pretending to think. “their pizza sounds good.”

“perfect. what kind?” he asked, giving her that soft, endearing look that always managed to make her heart skip.

“surprise me,” she said, her eyes crinkling with a smile as he turned back to his phone, murmuring thoughtfully to himself as he made his selections.

once he’d ordered, he slid back beside her, his arm slipping around her shoulders, pulling her close as he planted a quick kiss on her forehead. “alright, aristotle. you’ve got about twenty minutes to wrap this up before the pizza gets here.”

she grinned, feeling a rush of renewed energy as she settled back into her laptop, his warmth beside her and the promise of food on the way. and as she typed out her final thoughts, she felt his hand come up to her hair again, his fingers working through her locks in a gentle rhythm as he leaned his chin on her shoulder, watching her with a soft smile.

“think you’re about to blow the rest of the class outta the water.” he muttered, his voice low and genuine, cutting through the playful teasing of earlier.

she paused, glancing over at him, her cheeks warming under his gaze. “you think so?”

he nodded, brushing his nose gently against her cheek. “definitely. i knew you were brilliant the first time i met you. just, you know, don’t forget me when you’re off being some lit professor with a fancy office and your own bookshelf in every bookstore.”

she laughed, shaking her head. “you’ll be playing stadiums by then, styles. i think you’ll be just fine.”

once harry met the driver outside of the dorm and made his way back up the stairwell to the second floor of her building, they sat cross-legged on the bed, the pizza box open between them, warm and smelling faintly of melted cheese and marinara. YN took a bite, savoring the comfort of it as they eased into the rhythm of their usual conversations. she told him stories about her classes—about the professor who insisted everyone call him by his first name and the girl who always argued with the readings in ways that both amused and baffled her. he listened intently, his eyes focused on her like she was the most fascinating person in the world, laughing at all the right moments, nodding as if every small detail mattered. and for harry, it did.

soon enough, the conversation shifted, and he told her stories from his recent gigs—how the second-to-last venue had practically been held together with duct tape, how he’d overheard some guy loudly claim he could “totally play guitar better than that dude.” she laughed at the way he imitated the voice, rolling his eyes in good-natured frustration. “seriously,” he groaned, grinning through a bite of pizza, “the heckling never stops, even when you’re playing to like, fifteen people.”

she nudged him with her knee, a smirk tugging at her lips. “just you wait, one day those fifteen people are going to turn into fifteen thousand, and that guy will still be standing there with his pint, going on about how he should be the one on stage.”

harry’s face softened, his gaze lingering on her. “you’re just saying that because you’re in love with me.”

“maybe,” she said with a wink, brushing a crumb off his cheek.

they fell into their easy banter, and soon enough, poetry came back up. she was telling him about one of the poets she was analyzing, the language they used and the intricate metaphors she was supposed to decipher, when harry raised a brow, an amused look crossing his face. “you’re talking like i don’t write poetry myself, you know.”

“oh, really?” she teased, leaning back with her arms folded, a skeptical look on her face. “let’s hear it, shakespeare.”

with a grin, he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his notes until he stopped on something, looking a bit sheepish but handing it over to her with a small smile. “here. latest masterpiece.” he joked with a shrug, though he seemed a bit nervous. “study it in your lit classes ‘n all that.”

she took his phone, her heart skipping a beat as she saw the title: adore you. her chest warmed as she started reading through the words. it wasn’t like the love poems she read for lectures, full of flowery language and convoluted metaphors. no, this was simple, but sincere—lines that felt raw, real, and vulnerable in a way that only he could make them. each line felt like a glimpse into him, into the parts of himself that he shared only with her, the quiet moments, the late nights, the laughter and gentle touches that only they knew.

when she finished, she looked up at him, unable to hide the wide smile spreading across her face. “harry, this is—you’re so cute.” she said, her voice soft with genuine awe. “forget those old poets i read about. they’ve got nothing on you.” she squeezed his hand, her thumb brushing over his knuckles as she looked back down at the lyrics, rereading her favorite lines.

a blush crept up his cheeks, and he gave a little shrug, pretending to brush off her praise, but she could see the way his eyes shone, how much her words really meant to him. he nudged her playfully, leaning in with a grin. “you know it’s about you, yeah?”

she felt her heart flutter, her smile growing even wider as she met his gaze. “is it now?”

“obviously,” he chuckled, shaking his head as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “i mean, who else am i going to write about? you’re the one i can’t stop thinking about. the one who makes every line worth writing.”

she felt warmth bloom in her chest, reaching out to lace her fingers with his. “well,” she said softly, “then i think i’m the luckiest girl alive.”

he squeezed her hand, his expression softening as he leaned in, his forehead resting gently against hers. for a moment, they stayed like that, their hands intertwined, the world outside her tiny dorm room slipping away. it was just him, his steady heartbeat under her palm, his soft gaze that held a world of promises, and the quiet knowledge that he’d put it all into words just for her.

“so, poetry and pizza,” he murmured, his lips curving into a contented smile as he leaned back, pulling her into his chest. “didn’t think my night could get any better.”

“oh, really?” she teased, settling against him, her head resting just under his chin. “not even if i let you watch me struggle through the rest of my essay?”

“thrilling stuff,” he joked, his hand trailing gentle patterns along her arm. “actually, it’s all kind of perfect, YN. you, me, pizza, some poetry… maybe the start of a terrible song i’ll write when i can’t sleep tonight.”

“a song about pizza and poetry?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“why not?” he grinned, his eyes sparkling. “everyone needs a little inspiration, hm?”

she laughed, and the sound seemed to brighten the whole room, making everything feel light and carefree. “i’d listen to it.”

“i’ll dedicate it to you,” he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his voice softening. “after all, you’re my favorite muse.”

they sat like that for a while, the remnants of their pizza scattered around them, the warmth of his arms wrapped around her. she felt her eyes growing heavy, lulled by the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soothing hum of his voice as he mumbled quiet words of nonsense, half-asleep, just for her.

“hey,” she whispered after a while, her voice soft, almost a breath. “thank you for being here. for everything.”

“always,” he murmured, his voice a low, sleepy rumble. “wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

[sergeantneko]

Hi there! I'm Neko, and I found your post as a reblog from a friend of mine. I've played all of the 3D zelda games, and I write fanfics for the series. I'll answer these as best I can!

1: I've never really thought about it, but if I were to do so, I would put Skyward Sword in Spring, Breath Of The Wild in Autumn, Ocarina of Time in Summer, and Twilight Princess in winter.

2: Assuming you mean 2D as pixelated. I haven't played any of the 2D retro titles (pretty much any of the pixelated ones), however I have played all of the 3D top-down ones. I'm gonna pick one of those, if that's okay? Defo either Link Between Worlds or Spirit Tracks.

3: Skyward Sword! She's SO FRICKIN' CUTE.

4: That's a really hard one. Of the ones I've played, I'd say Phantom Hourglass.

5: I cannot justify picking just one soundtrack, so I'll pick out a few of my favourites instead. Colgera's battle theme (ToTK), Ganon's battle theme (OoT, That 23/16 time signature is insane and I love it), Yuga Ganon battle theme (ALBW, same reason, song is set to 7/8 time signature and it's just as insane), Tarrey Town theme (BoTW), Tal Tal Heights (Link's Awakening Remake), and so many more that elude me.

6: Nope! Bring it on, I love a challenge!

7: There are too many to list, but there is one that I love that others don't. That being the Water Temple from Ocarina of Time. Most people hate it because it's confusing, but I saw it as an experience. And that experience was fucking good, for me anyway.

8: Spirit Tracks for sure. The music, the story, I love it. The controls are not fun, and using the flute was fun if flawed, but everything else makes that tolerable.

9: Hmmmm... I'm gonna go with Tingle on this one.

10: The hookshot! It can get you to many places, and it has been a staple in traditional zelda games! So fun shooting it out and then zipping to the place it sticks.

11: That ones a toss up. I love all of his incarnations. I think Wind Waker is top due to him actually having some sort of humanity. He just wanted what was best for his people, and I can understand his plight. However, the way he went abouy it was wrong.

12: Ocarina of Time. It was the first Zelda game I ever played. And I was enthralled the entire time. Since then, I have managed to play every 3D Zelda game up to now, and it's my favourite franchise.

13: Breath of The Wild. The character designs and lore is incredible. Not much more to say there, really. Nintendo did an amazing job with this entry, and the one after it too.

14: Master Sword. No question.

15: Gerudo Desert, specifically the one from Breath of The Wild.

16: I don't really have one, they're all great.

17: Twilight Princess. It's my favourite in the series for a reason, and atmosphere is a big factor.

18: Again, Twilight Princess. Quite the dark game, especially in contrast to other entries.

19: Same as above, for the same reasons.

20: Same as above.

21: Skyward Sword! The painterly style is fucking awesome. If you're further away from an object, the shader makes the object look watercolored. They improved that effect in the HD remaster on switch, and it's beautiful.

22: I don't really have a favourite. They're all good!

23: Spiritual Stones please.

24: Either Ocarina of Time or Twilight Princess for items.

25: Midna.

26: Spirit Tracks.

27: Breath of The Wild. Mainly cause it pertains to being a breath of fresh air for the series as a whole with it being open world, and the whole place being mostly wilderness at this point.

28: Skyward Sword, up to a point.

29: Hookshot!

30: Ocarina of Time title theme.

31: City In The Sky from Twilight Princess. The entire dungeon is the "I am confusion" gif.

32: Breath of the Wild.

33: Mix of both. It wouldn't be a Zelda game without either.

34: Hmmm... That's a tough one. I think overall I might have had the most trouble with the second Ganon battle that takes place within Hyrule Castle in Echoes of Wisdom.

35: I didn't really have much issue with any of them except for Demise in Skyward Sword. Took me a little while to learn his patterns.

36: that one's between Twilight Princess and Skyward Sword. Both cinematic games, and both incredible in their own way.

37: I have no idea. If I had to give an answer, the Likelike's are weird.

38: The Dead Hand, as well as the ReDeads and Gibdos from Ocarina of Time. Both EXTREMELY creepy.

39: Echoes of Wisdom.

40: Tingle.

41: I have three. Song of Storms, Serenade of Water, and Requiem of Spirit.

42: The Couple's Mask.

43: Goron Mask.

44: The Anju and Kafei quest.

45: Tarrey Town.

46: Skyward Sword HD

47: Each game fulfills something different for me, and so I can't say that any one game is the most fulfilling for me.

48: I love the one incorporated in Breath of The Wild and Tears of The Kingdom. Amazing shading style that blends Cel shading with semi-realistic graphics.

49: Fairy.

50: Modern Hylian Shield, BoTW and ToTK style.

Hope this gives a little bit of insight into my views on the series!

🌟 TLOZ asks 🌟

1. Is there a Zelda game(s) that you associate with each season or time of year?

2. Favourite 2D title?

3. Favourite incarnation of Zelda?

4. Least favourite entry in the series?

5. Favourite LOZ soundtrack?

6. Is there a Zelda game that intimidates you/looks too hard?

7. Favourite dungeons?

8. Most underrated Zelda game?

9. Least favourite character in the series?

10. Favourite item?

11. Favourite Ganon characterization?

12. Which Zelda game has the most sentimental value to you?

13. What Zelda game, in your opinion, has the best character design?

14. Master Sword, the Four Sword, Great Fairy's Sword, the Koholint Sword, or the Biggoron Sword?

15. Favourite location within Hyrule?

16. Favourite location outside of/parallel to Hyrule (Termina, Lorule, Holodrum, Subrosia, the Dark World, Labrynna, the Great Sea, etc)?

17. Most atmospheric game?

18. Which Zelda game feels most mature to you?

19. Which Zelda game has the darkest story to you?

20. Favourite 3D title?

21. Prettiest Zelda game?

22. Favourite incarnation of Link?

23. The Pendants of Virtue, the Spiritual Stones, or the Goddess Pearls?

24. Game with most impressive/useful lineup of items?

25. Favourite companion (Midna, Ezlo, Navi, etc)?

26. Favourite handheld title?

27. Game with the best title (Breath of the Wild, Twilight Princess, Link's Awakening, etc)?

28. Most wholesome Zelda game?

29. Favourite item to use (aside from the sword & shield)?

30. Favourite title theme from a Zelda game?

31. Hardest dungeon played?

32. Game with the best map design?

33. Do you prefer puzzles or combat?

34. Game with the hardest boss?

35. Game with the hardest final boss?

36. Which game had the most engaging story, in your opinion?

37. Least favourite enemy?

38. Creepiest enemy?

39. Which Zelda game, in your opinion, had the most satisfying ending?

40. Most out-of-place thing in the series?

41. Favourite ocarina song?

42. Favourite non-transformation mask from Majora's Mask?

43. Favourite transformation mask from Majora's Mask?

44. Hardest sidequest in the series?

45. Best sidequest in the series?

46. Favourite remake/remaster (Ocarina of Time 3D, The Wind Waker HD, Link's Awakening for the Switch)?

47. Most fulfilling Zelda game?

48. Favourite graphical style within the games (cel-shading, realistic, 16-bit, etc)?

49. Favourite thing to keep in a bottle?

50. Favourite shield?

[merrycrisis-if]

So is merry crisis not gonna be an if anymore but rather a vn? What does that mean for its progress? I'm a bit worried tbh...

Also i thought you were working alone on it but you keep saying "we" in your new monsoon games posts? I'm genuinely confused about everything. Maybe i missed smth...

Heya! Super fair question, and I get where you're coming from. I love Merry Crisis as it is right now, and I know how concerning it may be to see me spending time "fixing something that ain't broke".

I just want to emphasise two things that I think might reassure you somewhat:

I'm very much still focusing on writing Merry Crisis above all else, and that's always going to be my priority. (I love writing first and foremost!)

That said, I've been giving it a lot of thought, and I do truly believe that my vision for Merry Crisis leans more toward visual novel than it is fully text-based; the reason why I started with COG/HG is simply that it was the thing that got me into Interactive Fiction, and the only language I knew 2 years ago. Now, 2 years later, I can genuinely say that my coding/programming skills have improved, and discovering Ren'py really clicked. Like, I feel in my bones that this is the form of the story that I want to tell, and I'm glad to have it in my arsenal/as one of my options now.

On the second point, I hope it at least counts for something that I am not making the decision lightly, and I genuinely think that when you guys see it in the form I'm imagining, you'll love it too/be as excited as I am. More details / answers to the rest of your questions below the cut.

I'm still going to be focusing on writing merry crisis while I find artists- and even when I do settle on artists, since I won't be the one doing the art (thankfully), writing progress should still be made at the same(ish) speed.

That said, porting to a visual novel format does require a fair amount of editing, and yes, I will need to balance that with writing new content.

As for the actual details of implementation and what language/format I will be updating in, I am currently writing the new chapter in choicescript, and it will be updated in that format for 1 more chapter at least (possibly more). Hope that answers things!

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Interlude - Meddling With Our Hearts

Summary: Five times someone interferes with yours and Aemond’s relationship and one time you decide to take the reins and shape your own fate.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 6,9k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece)

Notes: Hello!! How have you all been? This one came out faster than I expected! Yay!

Okay, just to explain a few things, so this chapter is a bonus, non-chronological chapter in the story. It is separated into items, as it follows the ‘5+1 Things’ model, spanning across several years. In item 1, Reader and Aemond are very young, around 4 and 6 respectively (and Aegon is around 10), whereas items 2, 3, 4 and 5 are set after chapter 1 of this story (think episodes 6 and 7 of season 1). Lastly, the last item is set in the middle of chapter 2. 

I am having lots of fun writing for Aemond, so much so I have a few ideas for unrelated one-shots I plan on writing for him. Anyway, I really really hope you enjoy this!

Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

1. Aegon Targaryen

As young children, wherever Aemond Targaryen was you were never too far behind. As the eldest of Rhaenyra Targaryen’s children, you were often regarded as a possible successor of your mother’s to the title of the Realm’s Delight, being soft and sweet and so very beautiful even from such a young age. There was no shortage of people wanting to gaze upon you, spoil you with attention and possibly win over the favor of the heir to the Iron Throne after King Viserys I. But there was only ever one person whose attention you truly craved.

With the birth of your younger brother Jace and your mother’s pregnancy with yet another child, your parents’ attention was naturally split. It wasn’t to say they neglected you or favored your brother above you, oh no, but it was only natural that you were no longer their sole focus, even more fickle given their duties at court. Your father in particular, Ser Laenor, tried to give you as much attention as he possibly could, but even then that was restricted to specific times of the day, mostly at supper and after. It was an adjustment, for sure, and for a little while you resented your little brother, but you were quick to find another source of the attention you craved somewhere else: your uncle Aemond. You couldn’t possibly know why, nor had you ever thought about it, but you were drawn to him in ways you could not explain. And the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Aemond Targaryen, as the second son of King Viserys and his fourth child, was most often overlooked by many in court. He wasn’t Rhaenyra, who held their father’s unconditional love, or Aegon, who carried the title of his first male child, and matters were made worse by the fact that his dragon egg had yet to hatch, whereas Aegon’s had done so when he was still pretty young, and Helaena had quickly claimed Dreamfyre. Even his mother, who once doted on him like never before, had lessened her attention over him, as her fourth pregnancy progressed and her affection usually leaned more towards her only daughter. 

So when his little niece, barely old enough to attend lessons, had developed a fascination towards him and would often trail behind him wherever he went, he absolutely basked in the attention that was so freely given. You, who had no obligation to him other than to be cordial at best, gazing up at him with adoration in those innocent eyes made him cherish the moments you spend together.

It was only natural, then, that the two of you could often be found in each other’s presence. Whenever neither of you were having lessons and were left to your own devices, you seemed to always find each other, your tiny hand enveloped in Aemond’s not much bigger one as he pulled you behind him towards whatever destination he had in mind.

“Where we going, Aem?” your sweet voice, not yet able to properly speak his name, would often ask. The library, the dragonpit, the gardens, it didn’t truly matter as long as you were together.

Aem.

The nickname you had bestowed upon him was one of his deepest treasures. To everyone else he was either Aemond, son or brother, and two of these he had to share with other people, but to you, and to you alone, he was Aem. It was something so inherently his, something to share with you and only you. It reminded him of you, of the devotion and admiration you held for him, something no one else seemed to have for him, and he never wanted to let go of it.

But as he would be reminded time and time again he should never hope, nor should he wish for good things for himself, for they could be ripped from him at a moment’s notice.  

The day had started out like any other: after your lessons you had quickly scrambled out of your quarters to find Aemond and spend the day together. He had decided, then, to take you to the training grounds to watch some of the knights train.

“See that one over there?” he pointed to a man, just barely out of adolescence, training with Criston Cole “That is Ser Arryk. Or could he be Erryk? It matters not, either way, both of them are really good. Ser Criston is training them to be the newest members of the Kingsguard.”

“Wow.” you sounded from next to him, mesmerized by the clash of the swords.

“Impressive, hm?” he then pointed to another man who was supervising the training “Ser Criston, over there, he is the best knight in all the realms. I hope to train under him and be as good as he is one day.” 

He was eager to start training with the sword, like his older brother already did. His mother had promised him that he could start his own training after his next nameday, though it was still a few moons away, he was already eagerly waiting for that moment.

“You be amazing knight in future, Aem.” you turned towards him then, that look of pure reverence made warmth spread in his chest, for he felt your words were true.

“Aem?!” a familiar voice cackled behind the two of you, and Aemond could feel the cold dread seeping into his heart like it usually did when his brother decided to torment him.

Aegon marched over in your direction, almost an entire head taller than Aemond, and ruffled his younger brother’s hair with a tad more force than necessary.

“Oh, Aemy, you will be such an amazing knight one day.” he spoke in a poor imitation of your own voice, high pitched and overly sweet and dreamy. Your face was scrunched in anger and poorly contained humiliation, and had the two of you not been under scrutiny Aemond would have found it adorable.

“Aegon, stop it!” he tried defending the two of you but he couldn’t stop his own cheeks from lighting up in embarrassment.

“Aemy, oh, Aem. Perhaps our mothers will marry us off to one another and I can carry your children.” Aegon chuckled before flicking his brother on the forehead “You would surely want that, wouldn’t you, you twat?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. With a warcry unbefitting of a princess of the realm you delivered a sharp kick to Aegon’s shin, the only part of him you could really reach, before running off with tiny droplets streaming down your cheeks. Aemond tried going after you, holding your wrist, but you swatted his hand away and disappeared around the corner.

“She attacked me!” Aegon complained, voice strained from the intensity of the blow, utterly baffled at how something so small could carry so much strength.

“Oh, please!” Aemond pushed past his brother, annoyed, before stomping away towards his own quarters “It barely scratched. And you deserved it.”

For the next three days you ignored both of them, preferring to spend your days with Heleana. Whenever he asked about you, his mother would claim you didn’t wish for visitors and would rather stay in the company of your aunt. Aemond couldn’t deny that it stung, the only person he felt cared for him deeply, no longer wanting to spend time with him.

So he was overjoyed when, on the fourth day, you approached him as if nothing had ever happened, your expression light and smile bright as you held his hand.

“Where we going, uncle?” and his face fell, joy completely dissipating and giving way to sadness. 

You refused to call him by his previous nickname after that day, opting to refer to him only as ‘uncle’ going forward, and Aemond felt an overwhelming longing for things to go back to the way they were. He couldn’t help the resentment he felt towards Aegon for ruining what you had, for he felt it in his bones that things between the two of you would never truly be the same again.

2. Jason Lannister

You were bored out of your very mind at the moment. You had zoned out completely and could barely hear the incessant droning of Jason Lannister’s voice in the background as you reflected upon your life at the moment.

After that night in the bathtub where you shared your very first kiss with your uncle, you feared things between the two of you would change, and change for the worse. You didn’t want that, cherishing what you had with Aemond, even if it never went anywhere beyond friendship. But you needn’t have worried so much, for both of you seemed adamant in not ever speaking of that night ever again. It did sting a little if you were being honest with yourself, but you preferred that over ruining what you had.

So you were very much looking forward to spending a few hours with him before lunch when you were intercepted by Ser Jason Lannister.

“You look wonderful today, my princess.” the man had smiled down at you.

“Uh, thank you, my lord.” you answered, confused as to what he could possibly want.

“Why don’t you give me the pleasure of going on a stroll with me around the gardens?”

You didn’t know why he wanted to take a stroll with you of all people. And to be fair you didn’t want to spend more time than necessary in his presence. What you did want was to find Aemond and spend your day with him. But something, a strange sense of propriety and duty, held you back and you found yourself agreeing with his proposal.

That’s how you ended in the current situation, arm looped with his as he droned on and on and on about himself and his wealth and his castle and many other topics you couldn’t care less about. 

In your reverie you hadn’t even realized you had reached the training grounds until Aemond, who had just finished his training session with Ser Criston, smiled and waved at you as he was putting a wooden shield away. You were about to wave back when Ser Jason’s voice pulled your attention back to him once more.

“Well, princess, this is where we must part ways, unfortunately.” he gave a small bow of his head before letting go of your arm “The maesters say it is good to keep active, so I will go see if I can find a sparring partner.” 

You barely spared him a courtesy as Aemond was already by your side, ready to whisk you away.

“What was that all about?” he asked when you were already halfway to the library, a sense of unease pulling at his heartstrings once he remembered the way your arm was linked with the older lord.

“I do not know for sure.” you shrugged “I barely paid attention to what he was saying. Something about his riches I believe, we just went on a walk around the Keep.”

He laughed then, though it lacked any mirth, and his smile no longer reached his eyes.

“What is it?”

“You are so naïve, niece.” he explained.

“And why is that?” you questioned, feeling slightly offended.

“He wishes to court you.”

Your disgust at the thought must have been reflected very clearly upon your face, for he let out a full, genuine laugh this time.

“B-But- why?!” you tried collecting your thoughts, flabbergasted by such revelation “He is so…”

“Arrogant? Boring? Plain? All of the above?” Aemond completed for you, jesting at the situation.

“Old!” you whined and he laughed even harder at your expanse “I mean it! He is older than my own father!” you got closer to him to whisper conspiratorially at him “I heard he courted mother when she was looking for a husband, and he was already considered too old for her at the time.”

His laughter echoed around the halls, a few servants stopping to stare at the two of you, dumbfounded at the way you seemed to be able to bring the usually stoic prince out of his shell.

“But why does he wish to court me? Why not some other, older, lady?” you asked, still confused.

“Well, you are not just any lady, mandianna. You are a princess.” he explained, though his words seemed practiced, like they were reflections of not his own thoughts but those of other people “Any lord would jump at the opportunity to wed you. Chances are, in fact, that more suitors will start to flock around you for attention as you grow.”

“Ugh!” your shoulders slumped under the weight of your frustration “I do not wish to marry these lords!” you threw your hands up in exasperation “I just wish to spend my days with you and Helaena! Why can I not just marry you, then?!”

He felt a twinge too tight of happiness at the notion, but chose to ignore it and listen as you continued with your rant.

“If I were to marry one of these lords I would be miserable!”

His face softened in sympathy, remembering the conversation he overheard between his mother and grandsire regarding Aegon and Heleana’s betrothal. He felt pained for his sister, for he knew Aegon would not treat her how she deserved, and now he was seeing the same pattern with you.

“It is our duty, I fear, to find matches that best interest our House.” he spoke softly, but you turned towards him infuriated, and he feared he said the wrong thing.

“But I do not want to marry for duty!” his heart clenched in his chest as he noticed your eyes brimming with tears “I want a husband who loves and cares for me, like father and mother!”

He held back his tongue, knowing that speaking his mind about the kind of love between your parents, or lack thereof, would only upset you further. There was no denying that Ser Laenor cared deeply for Rhaenyra, just not in the way a husband should a wife.

The both of you stayed quiet for a moment, you simmering in your unsettled thoughts and him disappointed he couldn’t comfort you further, for this was something that was out of his hands.

“I would not mind, you know?” he heard you speak softly, turning his head to find you already looking at him.

“What?” 

“Marrying you.” you smiled softly at him “At least with you I would be content. I could see us being happy, even.”

Your words were a soothing balm over his heart, making it clench in his chest. He, too, did find the notion appealing, he could be happy with you, hells, you already made him happy.

“If it matters,” he spoke, trying to hide his true feelings behind a layer of nonchalance “I would not mind marrying you either.”

Your smile brightened then, and you bumped your shoulder with his.

“One can dream, right?” you giggled, before sighing once a servant came to fetch you to clean up before lunch, annoyed that your time with him had been cut short.

But as you walked away an idea formed in his mind, and with a determination he hadn’t felt in a really long time, he set off to find his half-sister.

3. Alicent Hightower

“No.” the Queen’s voice was harsh, and Aemond’s heart filled with dread as he peaked from his hiding place behind a pillar in her solar. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop but his traitorous heart was too anxious to wait.

“Come on, your grace.” Rhaenyra answered, clearly annoyed, a hand placed on her very pregnant stomach and another on her lower back, as if standing here arguing was bringing her physical discomfort “The boy came to me, begging for her hand in marriage, all that was left was for him to fall to his knees. She herself has asked about the possibility of marrying him once. They are the perfect match!”

After your conversation earlier that day, Aemond had set off to find Rhaenyra and ask, no, beg her to allow him to court and eventually marry you. She had laughed in his face, and he tried not to show how her dismissal wounded his pride, until her face softened once she realized he was serious. 

“Please, sister.” he had even stooped so low as to address their familial bond, no matter how sour the word tasted in his mouth “Allow me to marry her. As her husband, she would want for nothing, I would protect her with my very life. And I could even… make her happy.”

Rhaenyra’s face softened then, for the first time realizing how much her little brother truly cared for her daughter. She had known the two of you were close, but the depth of your feelings for one another was only now being revealed to her. So she promised him she would speak with his own mother, and if Alicent agreed, then so would she. Aemond’s heart had plummeted then, knowing it would be a lot harder getting through his mother. But he wouldn’t give up hope.

But hope, it seemed, was not enough.

“No, and my answer is final.” Alicent moved about, trying to get Rhaenyra to leave and go bother someone else.  

“Alicent,” even though she had her back towards him, Aemond could imagine the tick in his mother’s eye at the informal way Rhaenyra was addressing her “All I am asking is that you consider it.”

“Why do you even think they would be a good match for one another?”

“Oh, by the Gods, Alicent! Can you not see how much they care for each other? The amount of time they spend together? They are practically glued at the hip at this point!” Rhaenyra threw her hands up in exasperation, and Aemond could see yourself so perfectly in your mother’s image “I will just ask my father then.” 

“Do not entertain that idea even for a moment!” Alicent’s voice became shrill as she glared at her former friend “What is this even about, hm? Are you so afraid that child” and she pointed at Rhaneyra’s prominent bump “will be born sooner or later bearing a striking resemblance to a certain commander of the City Watch once more that you resort to this… this scheming? To secure your line of succession, is that it?”

Ouch. That was low, even for Alicent’s standards. 

Rhaenyra’s face hardened as she stepped closer to the Queen, and for a moment fear gripped Aemond’s heart that he was about to witness his mom get battered.

“My brother, your own son” she spat out, genuinely angry now “begged me to let him marry my daughter when they are older. He promised me he would be a good husband, and for once in my life I am inclined to believe him.” her face softened then, raising her hands as if to grab Alicent’s but let them drop, thinking better than to try and touch her “Please, your grace. If there is still any care left in your heart for the love we once held for one another, please let me do this for him.” 

Aemond waited with bated breath for his mother to say something, anything. For once in his life he allowed himself to hope; he’d give up everything, even his dream of having a dragon of his own, just so she’d say yes. But the longer she went without saying anything, the deeper the cracks in his heart became.

“I will not be able to change your mind, will I?” Rhaenyra asked, her face contorting in sympathy, and when Alicent shook her head, breaking his heart in a thousand tiny little pieces in the process, she sighed “Then I feel sorry for Aemond. For both of them.”

As Rhaenyra left the Queen’s solar, Aemond took his leave as well, his heart shattered and a weight heavy on his stomach, regretting even going to his half-sister in the first place. It seemed you and he could never be after all.

4. Rhaenyra Targaryen

Tears streamed down your face as you ran through the cold tunnels of Maegor’s Holdfast, not caring even for a moment that you were only dressed in a nightgown. The news you had just heard from your father regarding your mother’s decision weighed heavily in your heart, and you had to share them with your uncle immediately. It couldn’t wait until the morrow, because come first light you might be gone.

“Hells, niece, will you ever learn to knock?” Aemond had turned towards you once you barged inside his chambers through the secret door, freezing once he noticed the state you were in. He was in front of you in a second, holding your cheeks in his palms and forcing you to look at him “What happened?”

Even though his image was blurred by the tears that kept on rolling down your cheeks, barely noticing when he started collecting them with his thumbs, you could perfectly see the concern etched upon his features, and that was all it took for you to release the sobs you had been holding back, falling into his arms and hiccuping against his shoulder.

“Mandianna, what happened?!” he asked, holding your trembling figure in his arms and awkwardly trying to console you, running a gentle hand up and down your back. He had never seen you in such a state before, and he did not truly know how to help, much less without knowing the cause of your distress.

Once you had calmed down enough, your wails reduced to soft sniffles, you pulled back from him, running the back of your hand through your face to try and look more presentable.

“Mother has decided to move us to Dragonstone.”

Aemond’s breath hitched then.

“What?” he whispered, taking a step back from you.

“Father just told me. We are to leave King’s Landing come first light in the morrow.”

He felt his whole world crumbling before his very eyes then. He believed his heart could no longer face more damage, for it had already been broken when he overheard his mother and Rhaenyra’s conversation a sennight before, but he felt it shatter all over again at your words.

“C-Can you not stay behind?” With me?, he wanted to ask as his own eyes started filling with tears.

“I asked, but father says we are all to go. Me, Jace, Luke and baby Joffrey.”

His heart was beating widely in his chest, twisting painfully at the prospect of having to face everyday at court without you to keep him company, to keep him sane.

“We can write, of course, but-” you started, voice still trembling.

“It will not be the same.” he completed for you. 

It was true, wasn’t it? Things were about to change. On one hand he wouldn’t have to face the teasing from Jace and Luke, just Aegon, the main instigator. But on the other hand he would lose you, which was so much worse.

But then he noticed how your lower lip had started quivering again and realized he had put quite a lot of distance between the two of you. Not wanting you to jump to the wrong conclusions he crossed the space he had created and cupped your cheeks, looking sternly into your eyes.

“It does not change anything.” 

“Aemond-” you looked at him with sympathy and disbelief but he wasn’t having it.

“No. It does not change anything between us.” he spoke, determined “I will write to you every single day, and I expect a response every time. It will be like you never left. You can fly on dragonback and come visit. And when I get my dragon, I will visit you in return.”

Your smile, although tentative and still wobbly, returned to your face and he felt relief wash through him.

“You said so yourself, the lines promised me I will have a dragon.” he rejoiced at hearing you giggle “I have to make good use of them when time comes.”

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you. Something in your eye, glimmering with a blazing hope, compelled Aemond to lean forward, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he took everything in.

“We will still be the same.” he felt you move, nodding against his head, never once moving away “We will still be us.” 

And even though, or perhaps exactly because neither of you could prevent the events that would unfold in the following weeks, both of you believed it with every ounce of your souls.

5. Aemond Targaryen 

“Aemond.” you knocked once more, your knuckles red and starting to ache from their incessant contact with the hard wood “Qȳbor, please open the door.”

He hadn’t left his temporary chambers in days, and no one would let you see him. After the whole ordeal with Vhagar and the fight between your two mothers in the grand hall at Driftmark after the loss of his eye, Aemond was whisked away to the quarters he was stationed at during his stay so the maesters could work properly on his wound and for him to sleep off the copious amounts of milk of the poppy he had been given.

Having talked to your brothers and cousins and understood what had gone down, you started feeling a tad guilty for the way you reacted to it. Yes, you were still hurt over what he had said about your brothers and, by extension, you. But at the same time you had let him go when he was the most vulnerable, he had just lost an eye for the Gods’ sake. And yet, even though you were hurting, so was he, he needed you and yet you let go and ran from him.

So you had decided you needed to talk. Perhaps, if you apologized for Luke’s actions and your own behavior, he’d offer an apology of his own, for calling your brothers bastards and for not extending Rhaena the courtesy of trying to claim her late mother’s dragon before him. Then, having cleared the air, you could move past this and go back to the way things were, with exchanged letters and promises of visiting one another. 

But your attempts seemed futile. There was always a guard stationed in front of his door, denying you entrance every single time you asked. Even though they were stern, hardened by their training, you tried using your authority as princess to order them to let you through, but to no such luck.

“Apologies, princess.” they would say, a smidge of sympathy and annoyance in their tone “The prince is to receive no visitors. Orders from her grace, the Queen.”

Panic was starting to grip at your heart, for your time was running out. Eventually, as soon as Aemond was recovered enough to travel, King Viserys and his family would leave Driftmark and return to King’s Landing. By then it would be too late. If you didn’t speak to him now, you would lose Aemond forever. That is, if you hadn’t already lost him for good. You had to speak to him, and it had to be soon, otherwise he’d leave and you would lose the one person you cared most in the world, who understood you like no one else, and would be left to drown in your own loneliness.

So you started scheming. You waited around the corridor of his chambers, waiting for rotation of the guard so you could catch his door unattended. You almost managed once, but Queen Alicent opened the door to exit the room, stopping dead in her tracks once she came face to face with you, about to knock.

“Your grace!” you were quick to recompose yourself “I came to visit the prince. I wish to see if he is faring well.”

You winced, instantly regretting your choice of words once her face hardened. Of course he wasn’t faring well, he just lost his bloody eye! 

“Aemond is not receiving any visitors.” her voice was harsh, and dread overcame you as she started to walk away.

“Wait!” she stopped but didn’t turn around to face you as you pleaded “I just- I just want to see him.”

When she did turn her features were laced with a combination of disdain and pity. It stirred something so deep inside you you almost recoiled and ran, but you decided to endure.

“He doesn’t wish to see anyone, princess.” she spoke, her tone stern yet motherly. But the implications of her words were not lost on you.

He doesn’t wish to see you.

It hurt, tears brimming in your eyes as you turned around and headed for your chambers.  

Did he truly not wish to see you? Or did he just wish for solitude, away from everyone? Could your friendship still be mended after both of you had been hurt like this? 

It didn’t matter, afterall, for you were determined to try until the very end.

That’s how you found yourself in front of his door, finally alone with him, having waited patiently for the guard’s rotation and making sure his mother wasn’t around. It was his final night in Driftmark before he was set to return to the capitol, and so this was your last, final chance to talk to him before that. 

There was a light flickering inside his chambers, visible from under the door, so you knew he likely wasn’t asleep, and when you had knocked for the first time, you heard a thud coming from inside, like he had bumped into some furniture, so you believed he had listened to you. But no matter how many times you knocked, he wouldn’t open it, nor give any indication that he was listening. 

“Aemond, please.” you tried again “Please, let us talk.”

The longer you went without an answer, the tighter the knot that was forming in your throat became. Growing desperate, you laid your forehead on the cold, damp wood.

“Please.” you breathed out, not even sure he could hear you now “Talk to me, Aemond. Please.”

For a moment, a short, passing moment, you heard a flutter of movement from inside the room. Your breath hitched, a tiny flicker of unadulterated hope burning in your chest that he had heard you and was coming to talk. But it was quickly snuffed out when you heard nothing else follow.

A deep ache took over your chest, like something had dug its claws in your heart and squeezed. The inevitability of it all, the looming sense of grief over something so close yet impossibly far, out of your grasp completely, clouded your mind and had your ears ringing.

“I am sorry.” you said, taking a step back and turning around to leave “For everything.”

As you walked away you couldn’t help but feel like a part of you was missing. For you had just lost him for good. Perhaps forever.

+1

As you brushed off your skirts, having been sat on the grass by the weirwood tree, you set off to find your mother, determination written across your features.

You nearly ran into Luke as you walked briskly, sending a thankful look to Rhaena as she helped you steady him.

“Where are you off to in such a rush?” Jace asked as he came up behind your brother at the same time you bypassed him and Baela and continued on your way. 

“To secure myself a husband!” you shouted over your shoulder, not even turning back around to address them. Now all that was left was to find your mother.

And search for her you did. It was imperative that you found her quickly, for you wanted to make sure you did this tonight. It had to be tonight. No one knew how much longer the King would live, and the moment he drew his final breath, a war would break out within your family. A war that would ravage all of the Seven Kingdoms. So you had to make sure that didn’t happen while your grandire was still alive and lucid enough to give you his full support.

But Rhaenyra was nowhere to be found. The Keep was huge and there was a probability that you were both on the move and simply never crossing paths. You even stumbled upon Helaena during your search as she tended to her youngest son, Maelor.

“Have you seen my mother, aunt?” you asked after a brief and sweet exchange, though you did not hug her like you would Baela and Rhaena, for you knew she did not like to be touched.

“I have not, niece.” she bounced baby Maelor in her arms as he cooed up at her “Why are you in such a haste to find her, if I might ask?”

“I have something of utmost importance to discuss with her.” you smirked as you added next, and by the glimmer in her eyes she understood the hidden meaning of your words “I believe I have found myself a suitable husband and must ask her to arrange our betrothal as soon as possible.”

“Oh!” she smiled brightly then “So we might be celebrating tonight.”

To your surprise and confusion, her smile faltered just a bit, her eyes becoming unfocused, before she smiled brightly again.

“With a union forged in fire and blood, the dragon’s nest is put to rest.”

You dared not question her, for Helaena often spoke in riddles, even in your youth. Biding her farewell you went back to your task. You didn’t have to search long though, for you quite literally bumped into your mother and Daemon right as you were turning down the corridor from Helaena’s chambers.

“Mother!” you exclaimed as you helped Daemon steady a once again very pregnant Rhaenyra “There you are!”

“You were looking for me, darling?” she asked.

“Yes.” you cleared your throat, squaring your shoulders “I wish for a husband.”

That seemed to take both of them by surprise, their eyes widening.

“O-Oh!” she smiled then, still confused where this was coming from “And did you have someone in mind?”

“I wish to take Aemond as my husband.” 

“Darling.” her face softened in pity as Daemon scoffed “You know the Queen would never allow this union.”

“That’s not all, mother. I think I may have found a way neither she nor the Hand could refuse.”

Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged a curious glance with one another.

“Let us hear it then.” your step-father encouraged.

“I want Aemond as my husband.” you took a steadying breath, knowing you’d have to argue the next part “And I want him to be King.”

“Absolutely not!” was Daemon’s reaction, while your mother just looked… betrayed. And it broke your heart. You knew what she was thinking, she had just reaffirmed you as her heir, had to fight for it, and you now want to pass that off to someone else entirely?

“Please allow me to explain.”

“Why would you suggest such a thing?! To that cunt, of all people!” Daemon kept on raging, but his words were abruptly cut short as Rhaenyra raised her hand.

“Let her speak.” her tone was firm, and you knew you had to choose your next words carefully to plead your case.

“Word has come to me of a… plot against you as King Viserys’ heir.” her face twitched in anger for just a moment “The Queen and the Hand will try to instate Aegon as King once grandsire passes.”

“What is new?” Daemon laughed, incredulous.

“And the noble houses would back his claim.” you explained “Many will not recognize you as the legitimate heir-”

“But-” your mother tried cutting you off but you continued over her.

“-regardless of the oath they swore years ago. Simply because Aegon has a cock and you do not.” you hated how crass you sounded, but you had to get the point across “And then a bloody civil war would break out, for you would not let this go unpunished, am I wrong?” 

Rhaenyra pondered for a moment before nodding, and you took that as a sign to continue.

“A war between us, dragonlords, would absolutely decimate not only our House but also the realm. But a marriage alliance between me, your heir and future Queen, and my uncle might just make them give up on this quest.”

“Otto would never settle for his blood being just consort.” Daemon argued.

“That is why he would not be consort.” you smirked, the catch you were waiting to reveal slipping from your lips.

“You shouldn’t give up your claim and be consort either!” your mother exclaimed.

“I would not do such a thing. I would be the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Both of them looked baffled.

“Now you have lost me.” she said.

“When the time comes, both me and Aemond would be crowned Queen and King, and we would rule together as equals. No consorts.”

Rhaenyra took a step back from surprise, and Daemon looked like he was told the realm’s funniest joke.

“You cannot be serious, tala!” he chuckled, but there was an undertone of disbelief to it.

“It could work.” your mother spoke to herself.

“Rhaenyra, you cannot be entertaining this ridiculous idea!” Daemon turned towards her then, wringing his hands as if to stop himself from grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking some sense into her “It is not tradition!”

“Fuck tradition!” you exclaimed a lot more harshly than you intended, and probably a lot harsher than it was appropriate. 

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down enough. 

“You being heir over Aegon already breaks tradition as it is. Like I said, many will not see you as legitimate. But even if they do, and you are able to rule, the same thing would happen to me and Jace. But will you make all the great houses swear another oath to you?” Rhaneyra understood where you were going with this “Having a husband to back me up as heir, to rule alongside me, would give me strength in my own claim. If you are already breaking traditions, what is one more, eh?”

“You might want to keep your voice down.” Daemon spoke lowly, and you noticed he was staring at someone “The walls have ears in this Keep.”

From the corner of your eye you saw a familiar figure, and in a moment of panic, grabbed your mother’s hand and pulled her towards the temporary chambers you were housed in. You did not want Aemond to overhear what you had to say, fearful that should anyone hear about this ahead of time it would all crumble to shambles. As Daemon joined you two, shortly after, you continued. 

“Please, please mother! Think about it. It might be the only way.”

Rhaenyra was silent. While Daemon looked vexed, but made no further complaints, she looked deep in thought. You knew she knew you were right. She just had to see it for herself.

“It would be easier to convince them if we had the King’s approval. That is why we need to do this tonight, at supper.”

Daemon bristled but didn’t say anything. Your mother on the other hand agreed, even if she believed this was all very rushed.

“Would you be happy though?” she then asked, and it was your turn to be surprised “Marrying Aemond? After everything that has happened?”

You looked between her and Daemon, and for once in your life you were certain of what you wanted.

“Aemond has always been kind to me. Or most of the time, at least.” you shrugged “I believe, with due time, we could put our differences aside and rebuild what we once had. Perhaps even learn to love each other.”

Again, you meant. Learn to love each other again. At least in your case.

“Then it is settled.” she looked determined “We will pitch this proposition tonight.”

A wave of relief washed over you. This could work, genuinely actually work. Perhaps it didn’t have to end in bloodshed like you believed it would. Maybe your family could be whole again. And all of that at the cost of marrying the one you had longed for deeply in your heart once.

“He asked for your hand once, you know.” Rhaenyra broke you out of your trance, a soft smile on her face and a far away look in her eyes, as if she was reminiscing on a fond memory. Daemon had left at some point, leaving you both alone to share this conversation, too deep and personal for anyone else to hear, in private “Right before we left for Dragonstone.”

Your heart clenched in your chest at the revelation. He had wished to marry you as well?

“He said he could make you happy. And I believed him.” she then looked at you, cupping your cheek as pride took over her smile “I believe it still.”

You grasped at her wrist, feeling warm at the love you could feel it emanating from her.

“If you believe you could be happy as well,” she continued “then you have my blessing. That is all I want.”

You nodded, blinking back tears.

“I do. I will be very happy.” 

She nodded then, pulling you into her arms. In the safety of your mother’s embrace, you finally let yourself relax. Your fate was yours to shape how you saw fit, and you intended to make the most of it.

And you would.

High Valyrian translations: - mandianna - niece (older sister’s son or daughter) - qȳbor - uncle (mother’s younger brother) - tala - daughter (meant here affectionately, not by blood, as there are no terms for step-relative in High Valyrian)

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@garden-in-the-rain

@queen-of-elves

[lillotte17]

The Music Room

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS‼- Do Not Read unless you have completed the Dread Wolf's Regrets quest!!!!

AN: I have not finished the game, so I don't know if this will actually be part of my canon yet, but the world is currently awful and I...needed to be making something. But as I said: I have NOT finished the game yet, so if you leave a comment (pls and thank) do NOT write anything with spoilers in it!!!

Okay, on with the show!

~

Rill finds Inquisitor Lavellan sitting at the harpsichord in the music room. All of the other rooms at the Lighthouse had seemed barren when they had first started using it as their base, and even this one had apparently been used as some sort of storage space -there was an alarming amount of cheese for some reason- but the quiet here feels different in a way that is hard to quantify. Peaceful, as opposed to desolate. The light pouring through the windows is always bright in here. Always warm. The murals on the walls were still vivid when they came. Colorful and new. The most prominent one bears the symbol of the Inquisition flanked by howling wolves.

The woman contemplating it does not look like the fearsome hero who closed a hole in the sky and stopped the southern half of the world from falling into chaos, though. She looks small. And tired. And sad.

Rill clears her throat, feeling awkward.

“So. Not trying to complain or anything, but when you asked to come here, you did say that you could help by giving us insight into Solas’ history and his way of thinking and… Well. You were pretty quiet in there while we watched those memories.”

“I know,” Aili sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. I’m just… I knew some of it. Bits of things he told me himself. Things I figured out…afterwards. And I knew there would be more. More I didn’t know. He’s thousands of years old, so I knew that the story of his life would be more than what he had told me, but…”

“It’s a lot.” Rill hums in agreement.

“Bit of an understatement,” Aili snorts. Her gaze drifts down, and she runs her fingers over the instrument in front of her. “…I didn’t even know he played.”

“So, tell me what you do know,” Rill says, casually plopping down onto a nearby crate, “It’s probably more helpful than you think.”

“I know… I know that he hates tea.”

“Right. Noted. Probably shouldn’t offer him any of Lucanis’ coffee either, then.” Rill grins, folding her arms across her chest.

“Probably not,” Aili agrees, returning the smile faintly. “He has a sweet tooth, though. He loves books. Loves learning. And teaching, too. He was always happy to share stories about places he had been, or spirits he had talked to. He paints beautifully. And he sketches, too. He doesn’t laugh very often, but when he does, it’s…”

She trails off, her face creased with grief and faint traces of longing.

“I’m sorry.”  She says again.

Rill shakes her head at the apology but gives her a curious look afterwards.

“You said that Solas was important to you; I’m guessing you didn’t mean that you were just really good friends?”

Aili shrugs.

“I thought that we were…something.” She glances around the room again, eyes landing on the mural of the slain dragon and the mourning wolf above it. “Now I’m not sure if even that was true.”

“Is that something he would lie about?” Rill wonders, her eyebrows ticking upwards, “Because that would be some valuable insight. He doesn’t strike me as the sort to use seduction as a manipulation tactic, but he seems comfortable twisting the truth about everything else, so…”

Aili sits for a moment in silence, frowning in consideration before finally shaking her he in the negative.

“It’s… No.” She fumbles briefly. “I know that given…given everything we’ve seen, it might be hard to believe, but… He has a kind heart. Truly. He wants to do the right thing. He believes in justice, and he wants things to be fair. He wants to help people when he sees them suffering. And he blames himself when he can’t. He just…comes to the wrong conclusions, sometimes, and he struggles to ask for help when he needs it. He… There would be no reason to -no point- in lying about his feelings for me. I was already his friend, and I took his advice seriously. He had my ear and my protection. He wouldn’t get anything out of it unless his intention was to be needlessly cruel, and…he’s not like that. He isn’t.”

“Then why were you doubting that you had something?”

“It’s…complicated.” Aili sighs. “It’s about time, I think. Or at least, part of it is. He feels things deeply. Passionately. Even if you can’t tell which words he’s telling you are true, you can always tell when something matters to him. And this place… Mythal is everywhere. In every mural. In every room. Statues. Paintings. Symbols. Everything is about her. For her. Even now. Even after taking Flemmeth’s power and essentially killing her himself. His love for her, whatever shape or form it might have had, has colored every aspect of his life since the beginning of the world. And compared to that…”

She taps a single key on the harpsichord, letting out a high clear note.

“Mythal is the All-Mother. The Protecter. The bright and beguiling moon. And I…I am barely a candle flame.”

“You’re the Inquisitor. The Savior of the South. People still call you the ‘Herald of Andraste.’ You disbanded the Inquisition, and still managed to bring enough people together to hold back the darkspawn hordes while I fight the gods up here in the North. I think you might be selling yourself a bit short.” Rill says with a curl of her lips, trying to be kind.

“There will always be heroes, just as there will always be despots. I’m hardly unique in that respect.” Aili replies, striking another key. “A puny mortal striking back at false gods probably reminded him of his own past. His own struggles. Maybe that was it. Maybe there’s even something about me that made him think of Mythal. I don’t know. I don’t know what he saw in me. Or thought he saw. But look around. There are a few Inquisition symbols in this room, but beyond that… There is no trace of me in this place. Nothing he held onto. Nothing he felt was worth keeping.” 

Rill frowns. Fidgeting with her hands. Itching to pull out a blade to play with, but uncertain if the move would been seen as a threat.

“Sorry.” She offers after a few moments of silence. “I try not to talk to him very often, for obvious reasons. It’s still a bit creepy, if I’m being honest. Even if I did, though, I don’t think his romantic life would be something he’d be keen to tell me about.”

“It’s not your fault,” Aili assures her with a smile that does not reach her eyes, “He wasn’t keen to tell me either.”

“The Fade’s a funny place, though,” Rill says, gesturing at their surroundings, “I’m not always sure which bits of the things we’ve found here are from Solas, and which things we brought along ourselves. Lucanis found a book he used to read as a kid. Harding says she can smell her mom’s cooking sometimes. Neve said she can hear the sea when she wakes up in the mornings. Things like that, you know?”

The Inquisitor nods.

“Not surprising, given the nature of this place and the person who built it.” Aili says. “This was a refuge. For spirits and slaves fleeing tyranny. And for Solas himself, too. It wants to be welcoming. It wants you to feel safe.”

“It was different when we got here, though.” Rill tells her. “Bit empty. Bit sad. Lonely, almost.”

“Sounds like Solas,” Aili sighs, something close to exasperated fondness.

“This room though…” Rill sits up straighter, turning her head to glance at the sunlight painting patterns on the already painted walls. “It was always like this. It may be small and tucked away, but it’s honestly one of my favorite places in the Lighthouse. It’s always a little warmer in here. The sun’s always shining through the windows. The quiet in here feels like…comfort. Like home.”

“I feel like you’re trying to lead me somewhere, but I’m not sure where it is,” Aili chuckles.

“Well, you said it yourself, didn’t you?” Rill grins back at her, “This is the only room with Inquisition symbols in it.”

Aili blinks. Makes a face.

“There are also murals of Mythal in here. Because she’s everywhere.”

It is Rill’s turn to sigh.

“Maybe she is. Maybe he couldn’t escape from her. Maybe he never will. What she did. What she made him do. What was done to her. But the library with all his memories of her is big and dark and gloomy. And the statues of her are stiff and aloof and cold. And the little room upstairs he shoved a cot into to sleep is…just depressing, really.”

 She catches the older woman’s gaze. Holds it.

“It’s called the Lighthouse, but the beacon at the top isn’t where the light is. It’s not in some huge memorial room dedicated to Mythal. It’s here. There’s a chair with your seal on it, almost waiting for you to sit and watch him play. There’s the paintings on the walls. There’s… Look, when did this become me telling you about the Dread Wolf’s heart?”

“I have no idea,” Aili laughs in earnest this time.

“Really though, this is a good room. I like to sit and read by the windows in here sometimes. The light in here always makes be think of summer afternoons. The air has a sweetness to it, too. Something flowery. Heather, maybe. Or Lavender.”

Aili starts, her eyes going wide.

“What’s wrong?” Rill asks.

“You said it smells like lavender in here?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“It’s…the soap I use. For my hair. I always have.”

“Well, there you have it!” Rill grins in triumph. “He kept your memory here. Away from his regrets. Somewhere bright and happy. Well…as happy as Solas gets, anyway. Not too bad for a candle flame, eh?”

Aili laughs again.

“Thank you, Rook.”

[chevelleneech]

I love the show for the lack of plot, tbh. I think around episode four or five I felt like it was getting bland, but that’s mainly because I didn’t think they’d actually follow through with Ody3. Granted all we got was a threesome at the moment, but I’m a little more optimistic, so I can see that being a better way to have the stories of the guests continue to flow into Max, Avery, and Tristan. I also think they should continue bringing in more of the crew we currently know, because I like all the actors so far.

Aside from that, I don’t think the show needs huge plots every season like 9-1-1, which I think turned people away initially. It almost made me not bother, because the trailers made me think they were going to go for a s7 opening cruise arc sort of drawn out series, but it’s not. The s7 arc was way more serious, whereas DO is sort of weightless. It’s almost more like a soap opera than a drama, which I’m enjoying so much.

I hope they don’t kill anyone off, but I do also like the idea of the show being in Max’s head for real. Yes, that’s an unconfirmed fandom theory, but how good would it be? Max still in a coma and living a life he’s always dreamt of? Doing what he loves as a doctor, finding love at the same time with two people he also has fun with?

Idk, I feel like this show has a lot of potential so long as they keep it fun. Once they start trying to make it serious or make the medical emergencies realistic, it’ll lose its light. I’m not watching this to see how cruise line first responders deal with a crisis. What grabbed me is the cast chemistry and the characters themselves, which is just as good as a procedural drama that wants to tell a fleshed out story through its characters and setting.

Doctor Odyssey is a show that is fun and quite unrealistic, but it’s comforting because the characters are enjoyable above all else. And they also have very solid weekly stories. 1x06 was very well acted, and even though only three medical professionals exist on the ship, and the captain is almost too comically devoted to his job… it works. It’s not Law & Order, it’s not Grey’s Anatomy. It’s a show that’s kind of a tv writers dream gig. A set cast, a set location, and free rein to write whatever plot and chaos you want.

Tbh, it’s almost like the show Bones. That show had serious moments and was a bit more grounded than Doctor Odyssey, but it still had a lot of fun with itself. It had whimsical episodes and even crossed over with the show Sleepy Hollow (a fantasy about the Headless Horseman), despite being a crime/medical drama itself. DO can be that. It’s a show that can decide to port in LA and crossover with 9-1-1, with Grey’s in Seattle, and can even dabble in fantasy if it wants by simply saying the crew was drugged by someone smuggling something aboard.

There is just so much space for this show to stretch its legs, but it has to be given the chance by the network.

people on reddit complaining about the plot (or lack thereof) in doctor odyssey… how do i break it to them that no one is watching that show for the damn plot! we’re here to see if those hot doctor and nurses get a bit challengers with it!

[lizhly-writes]

@enigma-the-mysterious @theembergazer @lonesome-greenery @somefishycat @kitten-kokomo AIGHT I figure I've written at least 15 sentences here. Welcome to some fake dating shenanigans. Sort of.

.

There was a hairpin, intricately forged and set with amber stones, rich brown and warm gold.

If Liu Qingge was a poetic man -- which he wasn't -- he would compare them to Shang Qinghua's eyes. The way they looked when they caught the setting sun, when Shang Qinghua had triumphantly stormed Bai Zhan, the head of a legendary beast in hand, the edge of a grin on his mouth. Look, I did it just like you wanted me to. I did it just like how you never expected. Isn't it impressive? Aren't I impressive?

Liu Qingge put the hairpin down and walked away.

Five minutes later, Liu Qingge came back and bought the stupid hairpin.

What am I even doing, he thought, even as he handed the money over and carefully tucked the hairpin away in his qiankun pouch. I don't even like Shang Qinghua.

Even if he did like Shang Qinghua -- not that he liked Shang Qinghua -- it... wasn't enough.

A hairpin was traditional in a way that was significantly less impressive than three weeks of paperwork. It was proper, but it wasn't proper. It was. Sentimental. Sweet. It wasn't making an effort, and An Ding demanded effort.

It was still something. Surely a gift had to be better than no gift at all?

.

Liu Qingge came to An Ding at sunset.

How romantic. Shang Qinghua wondered if Liu Qingge had timed it, just like Shang Qinghua had when he visited Bai Zhan -- but nah, probably not. Liu Qingge wasn't really good at figuring out optics. If he was, he would have made this nice and public, so they could flaunt how much time they were spending together because clearly they were in love. Something like that, anyway.

Oh well, it didn't really matter. Shang Qinghua could still spin a nice little story about it. Gush a bit about how Liu-shidi had come to see him. The brave warrior returning home, eagerly rushing to see his lover's face, the first thing he did above anything else. Very nice. Now, if Liu Qingge could give him a dramatic declaration of love, it would be perfect.

"Welcome back, Liu-shidi," Shang Qinghua said. "How was your mission?"

"Fine," Liu Qingge said, and then, in a more constipated-sounding voice, he said, "Shang Qinghua."

Shang Qinghua waited with bated breath. This would be the perfect time to say something sentimental like, "I missed you! My love, my life, our parting was a deep sorrow that condemned my heart to the deepest, darkest abyss. What joy seeing your countenance does me! Let us passionately celebrate our reunion with etc etc to be continued, please check under the biggest stone under the most interestingly-shaped tree between Xian Shu and An Ding if you want to continue reading, pay a fee of one spirit stone."

"Yes?" Shang Qinghua said leadingly. He smiled his best smile.

This somehow seemed to be too much for Liu Qingge. "Here," he said brusquely, shoving a little bundle of wrapped cloth into Shang Qinghua's arms. Then he stalked off without another word.

Rude???

Rude! Rude!! Incredibly fucking rude! Okay, it wasn't like Shang Qinghua was actually expecting some kind of romantic confession, especially when there was no audience here to pretend for besides Shang Qinghua himself, but come on! What was that? Not even a hi, good to see you? What was even the point visiting An Ding, then? Seriously, just package delivery?

Shang Qinghua looked down. The little of wrapped cloth was, in fact, a neatly-wrapped package, which he wouldn't have paid much mind to if it had not been a prettily-wrapped package. Less routine delivery and more gift.

He tilted this situation around a bit in his head to see if there was literally any other way he could interpret it, but no, it seemed Liu Qingge really had just gotten him a gift and ran off, sort of like a shy maiden deeply afraid of rejection.

Shang Qinghua was torn between laughing at this picture in his head (Liu Qinge, shy maiden?) or staring confusedly at it (shy maiden? Liu Qingge???). He could have spent some time overthinking it, but instead, he decided just to open the package.

"Huh," Shang Qinghua said aloud.

There was no one around to hear him. It was just him, and a very beautiful hairpin between his fingers. That Liu Qingge had apparently gotten him.

A hairpin. From Liu Qingge.

Was it possible Liu Qingge meant to give it to someone else? Like his sister? His sister would probably like a hairpin. Maybe Liu Qingge had meant to give something else to Shang Qinghua, and had mixed up the packages.

But the gemstones on it were in An Ding colors.

There was a weird, fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach.

...Indigestion, probably.

[kithtaehyung]

3tanniversary survey audio answers: ep. 1 | transcript below the cut

[ 241107 ] Hey everyone and welcome to episode one of 3 years with 3tan audio replies.

The first question we have - again, the question is "if you were given time to sit down and talk with me as the author, what would you want to talk about and or do?" First person - it is anonymous - they said, "I'd probably ask for writing advice and want all the details of how you came up with 3tan and also talk about life and whatnot."

That's awesome. I mean, I, I love talking about life, love talking about pretty much anything. I'm a yapper (laughs) sometimes and sometimes I just sit there and listen. It really depends.

But! How I came up with 3tan, I mean. I get this one quite a lot, but it started when I took inspiration from one of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite fanfics. But I definitely wanted to put my own spin on it, right? Like I was definitely not going to copy it entirely because we all know (laughs) that's a no-no, but I did want to reimagine it and put my own little.. tangerine in it (laughs) and then imagine it with Yoongi. But also throwing in that brother's best friend trope because I wanted to explore that with him in general.

And honestly from there it took a life of its own. Completely took a life of its own, nothing else is even remotely close to what that original fanfic was about and they really did take on their own personalities, they all took on their own environment, everything just started - just started flowing. And of course from there I left it as open-ended as possible, that way if these characters decided to come back to me with more, they had more to say, then I was down with it.

And then the second question is, "how do you write your characters' emotions and descriptions so well? I'm very curious about that. Every time I read your [stories] I can feel the emotions deep in my soul and it makes me feel like I'm part of the story as a reader." That is amazing feedback. Thank you.

As far as writing characters' emotions and descriptions, I think I'd have to draw this out, but. Essentially, like let's say you're shooting a movie scene. You have a lead or you have two leads, whatever, right? But then you also have a director, but then you also have camera operators, most likely more than one, and you're switching between those two.

I'm. I put myself in every position. So one moment, I'm the main lead. One moment I'm a camera operator on their right, and then the second - and the next moment - I'm the director looking at everything.

That's why there's so many cuts, I would say. So many beats, those small paragraphs, because everything is like a snapshot basically. And that's how I go about my descriptions.

And then as far as emotions, I'm in it. Like I am in that scene, whatever it is with these people. And it's tough. It really is.

And I know other writers out there will know exactly what i'm talking about. You take on these emotions too when you're writing them. You're attached to them, and it does a number on you, it really does.

That's why.. That's why we definitely need breaks after working on a piece and even posting the piece. Like you got all those emotions on paper and you're releasing it to the world for everyone to see and it's nerve-racking, but it's rewarding at the same time when people really connect with it.

So, yeah!

-

wanna submit your own? you can fill out the survey above or just send in an ask!

[tangledmovielove]

I can’t believe how badly Tangled: The Series treats Flynn Rider. His entire character seems to have been dismantled and warped, and it’s honestly heartbreaking for anyone who loved him in the original movie. Flynn was once a brave, intelligent, and resourceful guy with a complicated past. He put his life on the line for Rapunzel and opened up to her in ways he’d never done with anyone else. And yet, in the series, he’s treated like a punching bag—both literally and emotionally!

Let’s start with the way everyone around him constantly insults him. Rapunzel, who supposedly loves him, just stands by while he’s mocked, belittled, and treated like he doesn’t matter. It’s not just a one-time thing, either; it’s a constant barrage of disrespect from people she cares about. And Rapunzel herself contributes to it! She even draws his face on a punching bag as a joke, which is so cruel and out of character for someone who claims to love him. Who does that to someone they care about?

And it gets even worse. She travels back in time to try and “fix” his personality, as if he’s a problem to be solved, not a person with his own journey and growth. Rapunzel goes to these lengths to change who he is, yet shows no remorse or guilt afterward. In fact, her actions suggest that she sees his entire personality as an inconvenience—something to be “improved” to fit her ideal. That is not love; it’s manipulation. The Flynn we saw in the movie was willing to sacrifice everything for Rapunzel, but in the series, she can’t even respect who he truly is.

The worst offense of all is her rejection of his marriage proposal. In the original movie, they both sacrificed their safety and freedom for each other, and Rapunzel was ready to face any danger just to be with him. Now, the series tries to tell us that marriage would somehow “trap” her, as if committing to Flynn would hold her back. It’s painfully inconsistent, especially when we remember that she was willing to face literal prison for him in the movie. Why is marriage suddenly such a burden to her when Flynn was ready to give everything for her happiness?

Flynn is shown as if he’s just there to revolve around Rapunzel’s life, with his own dreams and desires barely acknowledged. He’s treated like a follower, an accessory, a background character whose feelings and opinions don’t matter. Rapunzel barely considers his perspective, often putting everyone and everything above him, which makes it seem like she’s only with him because he admires her so much—almost as if she enjoys having someone to worship her without actually respecting him in return. It’s sad to watch a character who was once confident and heroic be reduced to a supporting role in his own life.

At this point, it’s clear Flynn deserves better. His love and loyalty are brushed aside, his sacrifices ignored, and his personality demeaned by the very person who once loved him deeply. The Tangled movie showed us a romance built on mutual growth, respect, and sacrifice, but the series has thrown that away for a dynamic that feels toxic and unfair. Flynn deserves a partner who genuinely respects him, who values his thoughts and opinions, and who doesn’t see him as a “fixer-upper” or a prop. Rapunzel doesn’t deserve Flynn if she can’t respect him as an equal.

For all the fans who loved Flynn’s character in Tangled, the series doesn’t do him justice. He’s a complex character who’s more than just a sidekick, and his love story deserves to be one that honors his sacrifices and respects his identity.

I’ve had it (emotional time)

Just… here’s a “Keep reading” if you want to actually see this hell-whole of a post because . .  . if you enjoyed the episode: fantastic. It does actually hurt me inside when we can’t all agree on whether or not an episode is good or not, so if you want to avoid my rant about Eugene’s character in this show, go right ahead. Basically below is a lot of internal screaming and ranting about how Eugene isn’t treated right as a character and he deserves more time and blahblahblah. So … yeah. TL:DR not a fan of this episode.

Weiterlesen

[wuucchoo]

Jujutsu kaisen: the good and the bad

Hello!!! I'm out here making essays about jujutsu kaisen once again! And this is most likely the last one I'll make on it :3

((This is a (almost) 4k word rant, read at your own risk >:3))

So, the manga ended - and as far as I can tell, people’s opinions on it are pretty much divided. I personally found it extremely unsatisfying for many reasons, but I'll start with the ‘good’ things first.

THE GOOD

Jjk is a story that's a battle of ideals as much as it is a battle of techniques and fists. And, based on my understanding, the ending that gege chose to go for is the one where no one was actually proven right or wrong. Everyone's ideals and way of life remained the same from the beginning of the story to the end. 

Yuji, who's ideal is to save people as much as he can, was able to do that to the very end. Yes, there were hiccups - like the moment where Megumi had to remind him what his ideal was when he almost gave up after the Shibuya incident, but he got back on track right after he heard what Megumi had to say. And so he remained the person he was from the start by helping Megumi and also trying to help sukuna too. His character is pretty straightforward so it's very easy to understand it.

Sukuna, whose way of life and ideal is to live for himself in whatever way he wanted to, did just that to the very end. He refused yuji's offer because he'd rather die than live on someone else's terms. And in the afterlife he only considered trying a different path if there's a next life where his options would possibly be different than what he had in the life he knew. A possibility of a different life, a different path - yet still on his own terms, like he always did. He didn't regret the way of life he chose, he lived the only way he knew how based on the options presented to him in that life. And if there is a next life, he wouldn't mind trying out another path depending on what his supposed next life would have in store for him - as long as he does it on his own terms, and not living through what someone else's version of happiness was. He remained steadfast with his belief and ideal until the very end.

And megumi! I have a lot to say about him so brace yourself to anyone who might read this :3

At first, I thought (after that ending) that his character was all about him wanting to live and letting other people into his life once again and all that shit idk. But now, after cashew (from twitter!) explained their interpretation of the ending I see it in a different way (but slightly the same still).

Megumi’s character from the beginning to end has always been about loving selflessly in a selfish world. As a young child, he had viewed himself as nothing but a commodity, a bargaining chip his father left behind - and his value was in the technique he was born with because that's how every adult in his life has treated him. Gojo went to find him because of his technique, the school accepted and helped him out financially because of his technique, the Zenin wanted him because of his technique - just, every adult who could have made a difference in his life failed him because whether they did it on purpose or not, all of them made it seem like Megumi’s value is only ever in his CT.

Yes, Toji was happy when he found out that Megumi kept the Fushiguro surname because of the implication that he was never sold into the Zenin - but that hardly made an impact on Megumi’s perception of his worth because he never knew who Toji even was. To the very end, Megumi’s father was ‘the dude who sold him to the Zenin as a bargaining chip’ for him ((which i hate btw, but we’re talking about ‘the good’ right now so that rant can wait :3c)). And so, as a kid who was made into thinking that he’s just a commodity - he poured all the love in his heart to the one person who loved him just because its him, which was his sister. And in so doing, he became a person who puts someone else’s happiness above his own at all times. 

Gojo tried to get that out of Megumi by telling him to ‘be greedy/selfish’, and he did try to do that during ‘origin of obedience’ where he acquired a domain - not because he wants to save someone else, but because he wants to defeat the finger bearer in front of him. And that was just the one time, moving forward - everything he did has been for someone else again. He almost slipped into the deep end when he almost killed Remi just because he can that one time, but Tsumiki (or the idea of her) stopped him. This made me think that if Tsumiki doesnt exist Megumi would have been so powerful ((and yet evil too at the same time, something to think about i guess))

In a world that rewards selfishness he chooses to be selfless and keep other people's happiness above his own - because to him seeing the people he cares about happy is what peak happiness looks like. So when sukuna tried to manipulate and shame him for everything that happened while he was possessed - he didn't entertain it, instead he decided to do the thing that got him into this mess all over again - to live for other people once again. Living for the sake of Tsumiki’s happiness, trying to save her in every way possible as much as he could, was not a stupid mistake - that's why he will go and do it again. Despite all the pain and suffering it caused him, he will try to live and love again (I'm talking love in its broad definition btw) - because loving Tsumiki wasnt a mistake he should learn from, but a memory he will cherish. 

From the very beginning, Megumi’s ideal was to save people unequally because he's not a hero, and he never tried to be - the best way he can think of living his life is to pick and choose who to save because he can't realistically save everyone. And so, this - as well as the first thing I mentioned - was his truth and he stuck to it to the end. And he did have a moment when he gave up on that, after sukuna succesfully wore down his soul through all this careful planning and risks he took from the moment he got interested in megumi. Possessing him in ch 212 (at his most vulnerable and confused moment), performing a bath ritual to drag his soul even further than it already was, killing Tsumiki so Megumi loses any semblance of hold he might have had even after doing the bath ritual, and then using his likeness to fight sorcerers. Yet despite being the one with the most reason to curse sukuna in death, he decided, not just to live his truth, but tsumiki’s as well - by choosing to think about the people he cares about instead of cursing those who wronged him.

In the end, everyone lived and died by their own truth and ideals, and no one was proven right or wrong. ((gojo, yuta and many other characters too had their ideals challenged but never proven right or wrong - but i dont wanna talk about too many characters or this would go on for days))

Looking at it this way, the ending was 'good' in its own right (and as a concept) - but the road that led up to it, and the execution for most of the scenes left a lot to be desired.

THE BAD

While I do see what gege seems to be trying to say with his story, that doesn't mean I agree with it nor do I believe that such an ending was 'earned' when the build up that led to it was lacking in so many ways.

I agree that the world isn't black and white, and no one has the answer on what the right way to live life truly was - but the villains in his story went beyond being ‘bad’, they were clear and pure evil. And yet we see zero comeuppance - both kenjaku and sukuna didn't get the karma they deserve. Because, as it seems, with all the Buddhism values and themes gege borrowed - in the world of jjk karma isn't real, or at least not for the villains. ((And nope, what naoya and the zenin went through wasn't karma - what they experienced was vengeance, imo, more than it was karma.)) That's why Megumi felt like such an incomplete character, because to complete him the way he deserves would be to answer that karma is real.

Despite all the evil things both sukuna and kenjaku did - we instead see them both rewarded (REPEATEDLY)  for being evil. 

First, kenjaku.

Most people would probably agree that kenjaku is the main villain in the story, despite how the second half of the culling game turned into mostly about sukuna - it was kenjaku's master plan that started all of this. And kenjaku was evil. Pure and unapologetic evil. The things he did to choso's mother alone, warrants him an end worse than death. He lived his long life doing nothing but make other people suffer, all for the sake of curiosity and wanting to be entertained.

And yet the ending we all saw him get was a happy one - dying with a smile on his face because finally after years of living he was finally entertained - and it all happened because he decided to play with people's lives and start a death game.

He was rewarded for being evil.

Playing with the lives of other people was not presented to be as bad as it should be when the villain who committed these crimes didn't even get their comeuppance and was instead rewarded. Just to put into perspective, kenjaku REPEATEDLY forced someone to be impregnated so he can use the cursed children for his experiment. And that is just a tiny drop in the pool of heinous stuff he did. He is beyond evil.

While his way of life and ideal was not proven correct; it wasnt proven as wrong either. Because he didnt get even an ounce of the suffering he induced onto others, instead he was rewarded with a satisfying death. Putting into perspective everything kenjaku did, its pretty insane that he got to have a death where he could have a smile on his face and be satisfied. Gege went out of his way to create an op character (with an op technique that barely got an explanation) out of nowhere with takaba just so kenjaku can have fun. This is what i mean by evil gets rewarded in gege’s story. ((i mean just look at what happened with mei mei vs what happened with nanami. Gege rewards bad people, a lot of the time. And i guess in nanami’s case it can be argued that its coz to gege, death itself is a reward, but i digress.))

And then there’s sukuna.

Where do I even begin…

Maybe at the beginning, to make things easier.

Remember what Sukuna said the first time he reincarnated? He was looking for the 'women and children' celebrating how 'it would be a massacre' - this statement from him suggests that he, not only fights people who challenges him ((like what was implied with his dialogue with Kashimo)) but he was also actively seeking out people leagues weaker than him just for fun or as sports. Which was why the minuscule lore drop we got about him by the end felt really jarring to read - especially when it came from Mahito's mouth. A character who (as far as we knew in the story) barely even knows himself, let alone Sukuna. And yet, for the sake of making things just speed up and over with, we are just supposed to believe that he knows enough about Sukuna to say that his reason for being the way he was was because of 'revenge to the world' 😭. Where did Mahito learn that? When did he learn that? We don't know, so we just gotta accept and sit through Gege's 'tell not show' way of telling a story.

Sukuna is evil, and just like Kenjaku he was not apologetic about it nor does he regret it. Every path in his life he chose was that of the evil route - there was no grey area, there was no question on whether his way of life was good or not. It was evil, plain and simple.

And yet the story Gege wrote kept rewarding him for being evil.

And it seems as if all the innocent people he killed (for no reason!) doesnt matter.

Despite how bullshit it was - he was able to steal an innocent kid's body using a binding vow that should have had him killed (or worse) and yet it did nothing to him. He was rewarded for being greedy. He then had the time of his life fighting gojo, I don't count the jumping that happened later on as him having the time of his life coz it seems to be just a major annoyance to him. And then later on died with the option to walk a different path in the next life. In itself, it sounds great - but looking at the destruction he caused... Where's the karma? 

There's none, because gege doesnt seem to think he deserves it. 

I really really disagree with this message ngl. Coz the characters in gege's manga holds more sympathy to the perpetrators than the victims themselves - and I just can't agree with it  ((coz wdym gojo tried his best 'to reach sukuna'? That shit came out of nowhere.. Like,, why was he more concerned if sukuna had a good time? This wouldnt feel so jarring and out of place if Gege took the time to flesh out the characters more. if he gave us a moment of Gojo sympathizing with sukuna before the fight, before the culling game, before Shibuya. Meaningful character interactions between Gojo and Sukuna, a convincing one, that would make it make sense that Gojo's goal when he was fighting Sukuna was to, apparently, 'reach him' and 'make him understand'. The ending we got doesnt feel 'earned' because this whole time gege never gave us anything about Sukuna's character aside from 'he's very strong and he kills people' until the last two pages of the manga.))

For gege to go with this theme and messaging, he ended up disregard Megumi's character completely and reducing him into this character who had zero feelings on the matter that directly affected him. Yes, he was apologetic and all that - but... That's it? And while i do understand (i think) what it was Gege was trying to go for with Megumi's character, the execution of it just felt so half baked and lackluster - making Megumi's character feel incomplete despite the amazing build up Gege made for his character.

((A similar thing was done to yuji's character for the sake of the 'messaging' gege aimed for, but i will get to that later.))

Sukuna's statement of 'there are consequences to being greedy' never came to bite him in the ass, despite how much it should've considering all he has done- because everything he does gets rewarded. It's like, being that evil is good coz he keeps on getting what he wanted. And like a dumbass I kept on waiting for karma to get him and it never did. Coz karma isn't real in gege's world. ((and no, him being defeated is not karma because the only thing it did is lead him towards the path of redemption - like, the victims dont matter and what matters more is the psyche of the perpetrator. I dont know if i described it properly, but eh.))

Sukuna bets his life with a binding vow? He gets rewarded with the body he wanted with zero consequences - doesn't matter that gege had to go through a MASSIVE plot hole just to get there. Because in no universe was the thing he did to Megumi (and to hana) not considered ‘harm’, but it all got shoved under the carpet because gege doesnt know what to do with that. Gege needed that binding vow to not punish Sukuna, so despite the established rules he wrote in his own story that warrants that binding vow penalty to trigger - it just didnt... because??? If it was coz 'yuji didnt include himself in the people that cant be harmed', as Sukuna guessed, then i guess yuji didnt include Megumi and Hana in it too? But doesnt that neglect the point of yuji's character as being 'kind'? 212 was a massive plothole and i think thats really where the writing began to get... bizarre.

Sukuna kills yorozu/tsumiki just to drag Megumi further into the abyss? He gets rewarded with a weapon that (surprise, surprise) saved him from higuruma's CT. A CT that before that moment, he doesn't even know about. Good thing killing tsumiki's body rewarded him with a weapon, amirite?

Sukuna never fails to show his hatred for Yuji and would always try and make him suffer whenever he gets the chance? He gets rewarded by Yuji suddenly giving him an option to live again even though the entire story Yuji had always said he would kill sukuna. And i understand its coz yuji was able to know sukuna has a soul ((coz gege gave him the power of the mc punch)) and was able to conclude that he’s still human despite the HEINOUS crimes he committed, and megumi having been possessed by sukuna the longest was able to see that sukuna was desperate to live too - so i do see where gege was going with it. It just feels like the build up towards that conclusion wasn't earned, because even though it can be understood it just wasnt SHOWN to us. All thats being done is TELL and never SHOW.

Everything sukuna does gets rewarded and it just doesn't sit right with me. Its like saying the war criminals are just lashing out coz the world wronged them, that they deserve sympathy too. Okay, and what about the people they wronged, tho? Sukuna deserves sympathy for the world that wronged him, sure, but it doesnt absolve him of the crimes he committed - he deserves karma just as much as he deserves sympathy. And yet we see him walking away from everything he did with a smile on his face, zero regrets, zero repercussions and the possibility of living a better life in his next. ???

the ending

((Im sorry in advanced if youre a yuji fan coz im gonna say something you might not like 😢))

Imagine your sister got killed by someone and then your classmate comes in and says they forgive your sister’s murderer and wants to give them a chance at a better life? That this classmate of yours would be willing to turn his back on everyone else just so this criminal who killed your sister (and so many others in cold blood) can live? That even if no one else is willing to, he would give solace to this murderer - just so this murderer gets his second chance? What would that feel, you think? Thats a pretty weird scenario you might say, but thats exactly what Gege made yuji say and do by the end there.

Gege tried to portray 'kindness' with that speech yuji did, but ((imo!)) he ended up making yuji's character sound insensitive and cruel not just towards sukuna but mostly towards his victims and to all the people that died trying to stop him.

In itself, maybe in Gege's head - it sounds like a "good" thing to say - but when you look at the chapters that happened before that, its not something yuji nor sukuna earned because yuji was not sukuna's only victim and he wasnt the only one who defeated sukuna for him to decide and say all that. Knowing the things we know about the story that led up to that moment, gege just made yuji sound selfish and cruel - by having zero regards to everyone else's sacrifice and suffering. Which is a very weird thing for gege to do because before that moment, yuji was talking about the people who died - and then disregards that in the next chapter just so gege can write those lines.

Yuji's character is far, FAR, from selfish and cruel, and yet that speech gege made him say to the dying sukuna unfortunately made him sound like that.

This would all land better IF we saw yuji SEE sukuna go through the life he had during the heian era - like maybe what he went through was enough of a reason for someone like yuji ((who was supposed to be kind)) to suddenly offer all that, knowing damn well the amount of people who would possibly be hurt by that decision.

Im really not digging gege's exploration of good and evil - coz he almost always rewards evil and make good people suffer (with zero payoff, mind you). This 'trying to understand the villain coz he's human too' route just fell flat because we were never given the chance to understand sukuna except in the last 2 pages where he was given vague lore drops - and a statement from mahito who, before that moment, doesnt even know anything about sukuna except that he's strong. How and why the world 'wronged' him, we'll just never know, coz instead of showing us, gege kept on just 'telling' instead. But i guess for the sake of just ending the story we all just gotta accept that mahito, of all things, somehow knew of sukuna's reasons. lmao?

And the reason why i keep referring to the lines as 'Gege made this character say this and that' is because by the end, and even in some chapters before that, the characters lost their identity and are instead talking through a script gege made them say. Yes, a story is essentially that - but a good story is where characters feel alive and are speaking through their own soul which the last 5 chapters of jjk lacked tremendously. The characters felt like they were locked in a fixed role gege chose for them, and then they were given scripts to say, and then they were all rushed to say those lines because of tight deadline, and they have to say those lines just so the story would end. I know i dont make sense... but it probably would make sense to anyone who have read a good story where characters actually feel alive and not just there as the author's mouthpiece.

I know this is gege's first series, and its bound to have some flaws - drawing and writing a story weekly requires immense skill and discipline, i respect his craft a lot. Its why the disappointment i felt was great, because the story in the first half had such a good thing going and so i placed such a high expectation on it. Still, for his first series, its not bad... I probably wont be looking forward to his next series though, i find im not the biggest fan of this writing style that leaves a lot of things unresolved and just lets the readers write their own headcanons to fill the void.

((if anyone read up here, uhhhh hey there! thank you for reading my (almost) 4k word rant lmao, i actually have more to say but ee.. there's too many. This is my last rant on jjk (probably) feel free to fight me on this, one thing i wont back down on is the plot hole in 212 - that was a stinky plot hole and we just went past that like, damn..))

bye for now!

[samwwise]

there are so many different kinds of love, and literally every single one of them can be found in lord of the rings. good night

[hellinglasses]

Hello!!! I am infinitely curious about all of these, but will restrain myself to two:

holiday shenanigans for polycules and mamas

that lilo and stitch au that grew out of my control

Thank you so much or playing!!!

@blackberrywars​ thank you so much for sending this and here is the holiday shenanigans part and also be welcome to that lilo and stitch au that grew out of my control!! we have found family and also regular family that is also quite close and a complete disregard from what tolkien would think of this!! it's fun!!

also it's important to say that this is heavily influenced by beloved fandom tropes in the silmarillion fandom i could not find to link the origin of, including that caranthir knits, the pointing out the implications of naming your son something that means third finwë (after you and your dad) when you got two younger brothers, realization that findekáno e kanafinwë are pretty much the same name, this particular take in caranthir's affinity for business

so we have melkor!! the story starts when he gets arrested for illegal scientific experimentation. he gets caught creating this creature, carcharoth, which in tolkien works is descibed as a werewolf but tragically involves very little were-ing. so of course, by all intents and purposes, we're treating it as a very large alien doggo with the sharpest teeth. said shap-toothed doggo has, in fact, escaped

melkor gets cut a deal, though: he can get a reduced sentence in a not-so-horrible intergalactic prison if he helps in the capture of his creation, which, as the tracking of the escape pod used is appointing, is headed to arda (which by all intents and purposes, we're treating like modern day earth)

are they sending melkor alone to arda to retrieve carcharoth? hell the fuck no, much like lilo and stitch, we're getting a pleakley to this jumba and it's going to be just as queer as it should!! meet mairon, he works for the galactic federation's office of singular affairs and he's responsible for seeing to it, quietly navigating arda's society in search for carcharoth and making sure melkor doesn’t escape

they share close quarters while working the case!! they have to share an apartment!! they will bicker constantly!! they will also flirt!!

which brings us to the finwëan family (and holy shit that's a lot of people)

for context, here's a simplified family tree!! (these are all elves and the ages are, for all intents and purposes, absolutely for the sake of this)

also, for further context!! fëanor is the son of finwë and miriel, fingolfin and finarfin are the sons of finwë and indis

this is a story about love before everything else

fëanor and nerdanel, his wife, died in a car accident. he was a welder and an artisan and she was a sculpture artist who worked from home. they sold their artistic work on the main street fair on sundays. she went pick him from his late friday shift as they got dinner on the way back

fëanor and his brother fingolfin had their disagreements but loved each other. sometimes they had energetic discussions at family gatherings, then laugh and hug it out. fëanor named maedhros nelyafinwë as a jab on his brother, fingolfin would forever accuse fëanor of stealing the name kanafinwë from him. they would needle each other in a warm, affectionate way and that would be a running joke in the family. they only fought seriously once, eight years ago, when finwë was dying and fëanor refused to sign the DNR order and fingolfin said he and finarfin remained loyal sons; fëanor punched his face in the waiting room. the fight lasted a year. finwë used to be the president of the neighborhood association, fingolfin filling in when his condition worsened. fëanor never had any interest in the association. they ran against each other that next election and it got increasingly ridiculous until they snapped, had a huge argument and made peace during a debate for the election. finarfin was getting increasingly frustrated since he was one of the major people to complain about the other for both of them

maedhros was 18 when his parents died and quits the local college so he can work full time to support his brothers. the expenses of keeping the seven of them fed and the bills paid are piling up and he is holding out so they don't have to sell the house

fingolfin is an english teacher and anairë, his wife, is a nurse. neither of them makes too much, but it’s enough to keep them afloat and have some savings. they have more than once asked maedhros for the fëanorions to move in with them. he doesn’t accept since he feels he can’t neither impose nor make his brothers go through selling the house where their parents lived

finarfin is a counselor at a nonprofit and eärwen is the swim team instructor. not wealthy by any means, but will pick up the kids after school and bring weekly casseroles for dinner with extra groceries

fëanor once joked finarfin and eärwen could have another kid so they would both be ahead on the total of kids count. fingolfin would then say that fëanor could have more kids, but he clearly had the brightest of the bunch. fëanor would reply that fingon has broken his arm at least three times in the last couple years. fingon would remind uncle fëanor that it was "four times in five years” and to “make sure to give him all the credit he deserves.” finrod would say, wisely, that “the year only really starts after finno breaks his arm.”

fingon is three months younger than maglor. has graduated high school and takes classes at the community college, studying to be a social worker. former president of the gsa. runs track competitions. works down the street from maedhros. will bring him coffee on his breaks and talk nonsense to him after a bad day

he also brings the fëanorions movies on sundays as maglor makes his godless sweet/salted popcorn. brings hard liquor in the middle of the night so the grown-ups drink it in the garden. will cheer louder than anyone at maglor's shows and they're also very close friends. does Sports™ with celegorm.

maglor has flunked his last year high school after the death of his parents, so he's still a senior and works when he can on afterschool or summer jobs, but maedhros won't let him neglect his studies to help him. sometimes has barely paying music gigs, which he loves

celegorm is a wholesome, chaotic himbo. is closest to aredhel and curufin. will help old ladies to carry their groceries and teach them slang. plays pranks on deserving teachers at school with aredhel. will punch assholes in the face while laughing. volunteers at a shelter. has had his enormous dog huan since he was 5. when he gets into college will study to be a vet

caranthir is an angry teenager picking fights at school and pushing people away. knits and embroiders and talked back to a teacher who wouldn’t let him bring needles to class since that’s the only way he can concentrate anyway. gets detention. is walking back home alone after and this weird looking, scary dog starts walking behind him. manages to befriend said scary dog and bring him home. maedhros figures he does seem happier than in months, and one more dog isn’t going to strain finances too much. is that a small rottweiler? an overtly angry doberman? maedhros has no idea

curufin adores science and maths. fëanor used to tutor him in those interests, and after his death his brothers teach themselves things so they can keep on teaching him but he's quickly surpassing them. will end older kids bothering him. skipped a grade and is in the same class as galadriel. they're best friends, she is the only person who can play chess with him and those two could probably take over the world together

turgon is the sweetest, awkwardest, most considerate person. wants to be a lawyer. writes articles on the students’ newspaper about the unequal funding of state schools and the drama club budget cuts while crushing heavily on editor in chief elenwë

aredhel is in the roller derby team and the women’s student union with haleth, morwen and lúthien. crushes on Morwen hopelessly and pretty much dies every time she does something really cool. helped organizing a protest against double standards on dress codes and sexualization of teenage girls where everyone came to school wearing shorts. celegrom wore shorts in support

argon is a theater kid

finrod is both that competent and popular to be president of the student council, with glorfindel as vice-president. total overachiever. doesn’t really know what he’s going to be doing with his life yet so collects interests like people collect shells on the beach. has literally joined all the clubs in school at some points and knows Everyone. turgon is exasperated every time they walk the halls together since a five minute corridor cross takes at least ten, as finrod will stop to talk to everyone that greets him. turgon reminds him he has class to attend. finrod will get in class late, smile angelically and not get in trouble for it. in college will be a undeclared major for awhile

angrod in swim team with his friend ecthelion

aegnor is a rebel against all authority except his mom. has no idea what he's doing and that seems to be his plan. fine if finrod wants to be the family overachiever, he wants to have fun. has a lot more in common with him than he realizes. he and caranthir run a forbidden snacks underground ring during school recess

galadriel is 12 and will win arguments with just about anybody. very perceptive

[kanansdume]

I've recently been watching these very interesting Star Wars video essays on YouTube (yeah I know, a rare breed) and it brings up these comments Lucas has made about how he views Star Wars as almost like a silent film in terms of how important the visuals are to him in comparison to the dialogue. But this essay also points out how important Lucas finds all of the "rhyming" moments in his trilogies and the way he utilizes them to remind you of something else for emotional or thematic reasons. And there's so many of them, both in visuals and in dialogue, and it's interesting to consider how important this is to him, the repetition for a purpose as well as the storytelling through visuals above everything else and then to look at Star Wars since the Prequels came out and realize how little has really been able to match up to those ideals since then.

The ONLY thing that's come out since the Prequels that I think really hits these two things the same way is, in fact, Andor. One of the things I noticed about the way people discussed Andor as it was airing in a way I haven't really seen for any of the other shows or films was the visual SYMBOLOGY. So many times I saw people noticing the Imperial cog everywhere, from the aerial shot of Narkina 5 as the prisoners escape to the architecture of Mon Mothma's house. There were people picking up on the use of items in Luthen's shop that are familiar from other things to give this idea that Luthen is from another time, he's attempting to preserve this world he lost, that if you're not looking closely enough you won't notice what he's really saying or doing with this shop. The color choices for the different locations and people got analyzed because the people involved spoke about how they intentionally utilized color to SEND A MESSAGE about the characters and the world. We know that the people who made the costumes and sets really worked hard to treat Star Wars almost like a period drama and study the history of the franchise as if it were a real place so that the things they came up with felt like they belonged in this world everyone knows so well even if it's completely new. And of course there were all of the myriad references to things from Rogue One, the constant repetition of "climb", the sunset on the beach, etc.

Nearly EVERY SHOT in this show was created with so much intention behind it in order to say something meaningful about the characters, the world, this specific story they're in, and the overall saga of Star Wars itself. It's insane how much greater impact this show was able to achieve through the incredibly careful usage of visual symbols and thematic repetitions, much like Lucas did before them. It feels like they didn't just study the history of the galaxy far far away, but they studied the history of STAR WARS and what Lucas was trying to do and say with this story. They peeled back his onion a bit more and were able to create something that really has that same visual feel even when it's not created for a child audience. It also is experimenting with its narrative style through its structure and through Cassian's character being allowed to be somewhat more reactive than proactive, and while that didn't work for everyone, it does feel like it's following in Lucas's footsteps of experimentation through Star Wars. Push the boundaries of what Star Wars is and can be and what you can say with it.

But this only works because they peeled the onion back enough to TRULY understand all of the messages Lucas was sending with it. They got the heart of Star Wars and despite its lack of space wizards, despite the lack of most major characters in the Saga, this was a show that honestly got the message more than just about anything else Star Wars has put out since the Prequels. The choices between selflessness and selfishness, the themes about how you always HAVE to make a choice even when it feels like you don't have any (sometimes ESPECIALLY when it feels like you don't have any), and how important it is to make sure to choose the path of compassion above everything else. The themes of connection to others, the symbiotic circle and the impact even the smallest person can have on world around them, it's RIGHT THERE and it's CENTRAL to Andor's storyline.

So yes, it experiments a little with narrative structure, but it's possibly the most Star Wars thing to exist Revenge of the Sith because it honestly truly GETS what Star Wars was about, both in its themes and in its filmmaking. A lot of people said that Andor didn't feel like Star Wars to them, usually because of the lack of space wizards and the fact that it's not a story aimed at children. But to me, Andor is EXACTLY what Star Wars is and has always been. They're stretching the boundaries of what Star Wars can be, but it's saying the exact same things Star Wars has always said, it's just saying it slightly differently. This doesn't feel like fanfiction to me, not really. Unlike things like the Mandoverse or the books, Andor isn't just taking some of the toys out of the sandbox and going to play with them somewhere else. Andor is IN that sandbox. It's building a slightly different sandcastle, but it's still within the sandbox, using the same sand that Lucas did.

[levitatingbiscuits]

ok but superman as a livestock guardian. lives among his flock, loves them as his own, would die for them without thought, but can't quite be one of them because of his inherent drive to protect them.

and the flock looks at this predator who could rip them apart with ease and loves him. lambs sleeping with the sheepdog while their mothers watch contentedly, even after witnessing him rip the wolves apart. starstruck parents offering up their infants for superman to hold after watching him shatter concrete and rend steel with the same hands he uses to cradle their children.

superman held in place more effectively by his devotion than any collar. always predictable to his enemies, because they always know what he's going to do: save people, no matter what cost to himself.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

I'm approaching the most terrifying part of the Exciting New Story Idea process: Writing it down.

[mc-critical]

1.10 / 1.09