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cloverthirteen · 3 years

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Was Ace Attorney made as a satire on Japan’s legal system? -- An analysis

I wouldn’t really call myself an Ace Attorney fan--I’ve never played any of the games, the closest I’ve come being watching other people’s let’s plays. I do like reading about the series on wikis and interacting with fan content for it, though, so I do know a fair amount about it.

One thing I see being said pretty often by fans is that the series was intended as a satire/parody of the Japanese legal system, which is why the courts are ridiculously biased towards the prosecution, prosecutors often care more about perfect win records more than putting actual guilty people behind bars, etc. If you’re familiar with this, you’ve probably heard of Japan’s 99% conviction rate. This interpretation of the games and the way they work definitely makes sense.

But after hearing this many times I eventually noticed something. There isn’t a single actual source (creator statement, interview, etc.) that backs up this claim. Every time I see someone online say “the series creator made Ace Attorney to parody Japan’s actual legal system” there is never a link to an interview or anything that proves their statement correct. If someone has an actual, verified source from Shu Takumi or someone else who had significant involvement with the series, please prove me wrong and show it to me. But according to all of the creator’s statement’s I’ve read, there’s no evidence of the series being an intentional parody.

So, what do we know about the creation of the Ace Attorney series? Well, it was created by Shu Takumi, who wrote and directed the first three games. After working on the dinosaur survival horror game Dino Crisis for Capcom, he was given the opportunity to make any kind of game he wanted. He really wanted to make mystery and adventure games, and from that came Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney.

MC: Before developing Ace Attorney you worked on Dino Crisis. How does one go from dinosaur survival horror to virtual courtrooms?

ST: Dino Crisis was the brainchild of my then boss, Resident Evil creator, Shinji Mikami. Working on his projects taught me not only how to make games, but also how to think about them. After Dino Crisis 2 wrapped, Mr Mikami gave me six months in which to create any kind of game I wanted.

I was still pretty wet behind the ears, but as I'd originally joined Capcom with a desire to create mystery and adventure games, this was a huge chance for me to make my mark as a creator. In the end it took a team of seven 10 months to produce the first GBA Ace Attorney title. Having the freedom to create exactly the kind of game I wanted was amazing and it was a real pleasure to work on that project.

MC: Can you remember when the idea of Ace Attorney first came to you? How did your bosses respond to the idea of a lawyer-based adventure game when you first described it to them?

ST: It was in 2000 when Mr Mikami said I could make my own game and my original idea was a fairly typical adventure with a detective as the main character. Most mystery adventures have the player choose from a number of different dialogue options for their character in order to progress the story, but I wanted a new gameplay style that enabled players to deduce for themselves what was happening, rather than just selecting canned responses. I developed this into the concept of facing off against the suspect in a crime and exposing the contradictions in their statements.

I was sure my new idea would be a fun and original take on the genre, so I started to revise the main character, since a detective would be too traditional for such an original concept. I asked myself, "What kind of professional would face off against a suspect and expose their contradictory statements?" The answer, of course, was a lawyer and so the Ace Attorney concept was born.

(source, from an interview on the making of the series)

Takumi’s original concept for the game involved Phoenix as not a defense lawyer, but as a detective. The gameplay was to consist of “facing off against the suspect of a crime and finding the contradictions in their statements.” However, Takumi eventually realized that taking apart contradictions wasn’t really a detective’s job, and decided to change the protagonist to a lawyer and the setting to a courtroom instead. And thus, the game’s concept was finalized.

Janet: As you know, “Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Trilogy” is coming out world-wide this winter, and as I was brainstorming what to write about for this week’s blog, I remembered your tweets from 2010.

Takumi: Tweets from 2010?

Janet: …Well, it was a long time ago…

Takumi: ???

Janet: I-It’s OK if you don’t remember…

Takumi: …Oh, THOSE! Yes!

Janet: I remember reading them and being shocked by how different the original draft of the game’s story was – how Phoenix wasn’t even a lawyer, but a private eye!

Takumi: Yes, AA was originally supposed to be a detective game, so naturally, Phoenix was to be a private eye. But then, one day, I made a startling realization: the gameplay concept I was going for was for players to enjoy finding and taking contradictions apart, but that was hardly related to investigating or detective work at all. In that moment, I had it – I realized that the main setting for the game should be the courtroom.

Janet: That’s quite the jump, but you know, I can’t imagine this series being anything else at this point.

(source, from an interview by Janet Hsu about the game’s early development)

During the development for the game, Takumi actually knew very little about the intricacies of the legal system--and in fact, he’s been very transparent about that fact in interviews. There’s even a story he talks about in a blog post where he was asked “shouldn’t we do some research on law before we make this game?” and agonized over it for a bit before deciding that being accurate about courtroom processes wasn’t important--what was important was that the game made the trials exciting and fun.

November, 2000. The characters were coming together, and I was working desperately on my first scenario (the current Turnabout Sisters). One day, I was asked about the one thing I didn’t want to be asked about.

“Mr. Takumi. Don’t we need to do some research on law?”

The knowledge I have about the law, pretty amounts to the one fact that in Japan we have the Roppō Zensho ('Complete Book of The Six Major Legal Codes').

“Don’t bother with that. This is a detective game. “

It should have been over with this one line, but…

“But this isn’t a detective game, it’s a lawyer game!”

“If it’s not going to be realistic, I don’t see why this should be about trials.”

“People who play this might get wrong knowledge from the game!”

“We might get sued by the Bar Association!”

“They’ll start complaining!”

…Gyakuten Saiban (Ace Attorney GBA) is simply a “mystery game.”　“Being realistic” is not what is important. What’s important is emphasizing, and recreating the unique “atmosphere” and “tension” of the courtroom. That is why the judge uses a gavel, even though no judge uses that, and why Naruhodō shouts "Objection!" even though nobody does that either.　This game does not need a “realistic courtroom”!

Chasing the true murderer down to the end, and then getting applauded for that in the courtroom. That feeling of thrill and excitement. It was only by February of the following year when we finally manage to recreate that in the game. The couple of months after this had happened, we looked around, got lost and troubled our minds in search for the answer of the big question of “How do we make a trial into a game?”. Fall was passing by, and the cold winter was close upon us.

(source, from an archived blog post by Takumi)

So, realism and knowledge of law wasn’t important to Takumi during the development of the series. But there’s also the fact that Takumi has actually personally denied that the Ace Attorney series was an intentional satire or criticism of the court system at any point. In fact, according to a blog post (done as if Phoenix and Maya were reading the column and commenting on it), he actually dislikes people seeing his work this way, as he never intended the games to have any big political statements.

A major prerequisite for Gyakuten Saiban is it’s so simple “even my mother could play it”. So there is only one point at the core of the game: “Seeing through lies”.

Naruhodō: It wasn’t even supposed to be a game about the trials at first. Mayoi: Eh! Really?! Naruhodō: “Simple” is basically all this game is about, according to TakuShū. Mayoi: What do you mean? Naruhodō: He didn’t want to add all kinds of elements for the player to think about, like alibis, tricks or about the culprit. It’d just confuse them. Mayoi: Really. Naruhodō: Basically, you can proceed in the game if you just think about where the contradiction is. He figured that with that, the controls of the game could also stay simple. Mayoi: But, but, why the trials then? Naruhodō: “A story about a detective seeing through lies” wouldn’t be any different from the other games out there. So that’s why he decided to have someone whose job is seeing through lies as the protagonist. Mayoi: So a defense attorney. Naruhodō: Occasionally TakuShū sees magazines introducing the game as “a work that dared to take on the theme of trials”, and that actually hurts him. Mayoi: He never meant to be something as big as that….

(source, from the mentioned blog post)

Ultimately I see how easy it is, if you know a good amount about both Ace Attorney and Japan’s legal system, to come to the conclusion that the games were made as a dig against the latter. However, somewhere along the line, people apparently stopped seeing this as merely a theory and instead as a definite fact. Now, that doesn’t mean that the theory is entirely unfounded--given that Takumi focused only on making trials interesting and fun in the games, you could say that the games work as an light, comedic parody, not meant to make any political statements. And hey, maybe there’s something I missed--maybe there were other people working on the series who did have significant knowledge of law and wrote some parts of the games as intentional satire of the system. Again, if anyone has evidence of this, don’t hesitate to provide it. But with what I know, I don’t think going “well actually” to people who point out the ridiculousness and unfairness of Ace Attorney’s court system is necessary. It’s simply that way to make the games more fun.

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #this was actually kind of fun to research and write!#kinda felt like i was making a statement in a courtroom...

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sladewilsonisanantihero · 3 years

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The Original Intent of Terra and how Deathstroke got the bad end of the stick for it

Okay, Deathstroke Children (Idk what to call you guys because fellow Deathstrokers would end this conversation immediately), I found the time to do this, so let's get to it!

(Note: My original laptop broke with my comics, so I have no images to spare, so it will be sourced. Another note: Many words will be in bold. Partly so that for those reading will not lose track.)

But if tl;dr:

Cold Hard Truth: Everyone from Terra fans to Deathstroke fans needs to stop seeing these characters as real people.

Original Terra wasn't human trafficked or whatever sob story people want to label her with. The CREATORS intended her to be written as Evil without the mental illness and to die for the shock value. They had Raven, The Literal Empath, spell this out in Judas Contract. As for Deathstroke's involvement, he was shoved into her creation story, and Marv Wolfman himself recognized his mistake in doing that.

And for those calling Deathstroke a nazi, Original Terra had nazi-like beliefs where common people should fear and serve them or be killed off just because they're 'special'. Again, BLUNTLY stated in the Judas Contract. So if you're going to call Deathstroke a Pedophile, we'll call OG Terra a Neo-Nazi. (But I highly advice for Deathstroke Fans to not start that kind of war, but I had to say what I had to say.)

Don't get me wrong. (Hopefully all) Deathstroke fans know that their relationship was wrong just like Marv Wolfman, and we do not support pedophiles! But Slade isn't a pedophile! He was never intended to be written as one! It was a mistake made on many levels and should be rewritten like OG Terra's Evil Neo-Nazi-like personality, instead of being thrown into cancel culture.

Also for Deathstroke fans, don't get upset over their content and begin any argument emotionally. Just enjoy whatever good content we can get and support it if you can. Hopefully we'll get our Deathstroke movies and so on!

So I've briefly chatted with one of you over the matter with Terra/Tara Markov and how upsetting it is about how people refer to Slade Wilson as a Pedophile. That is a serious accusation that would make it very uncomfortable to argue about since it can easily make it seem like we justify the actions of pedophiles, and that we are part of pedophile culture that does exist in social media space.

AND WE SHOULDN'T, AND FOR ANTIS READING THIS WE WON'T.

But there was a time when I used to have a blog called friendlyremindersofsladewilson, where I defended Slade and put the blame all on Terra. I was 14 at the time, and looking back at it, I am not proud of it because I realized now as an adult how I defended it for most of the wrong reasons, but still stand with the fact that SLADE IS NOT A PEDOPHILE.

And since this took place when I was so young, it compelled me to write this post because I fear some of you are really young, too, and may end up in this regretful position.

So to make it clear, what Slade had been written to do is a crime, and we should acknowledge it, but not in the way as if it was a crime acted out in real life.

What I mean by that is that there's a clear separation between fiction and reality where one isn't real (Duh!). In this case, it's about the mistakes made between fiction and reality. In reality, mistakes made by the person responsible is on the person. In fiction, mistakes made is dependent on the creator's intent, and sometimes the creators can make mistakes themselves.

Most notably Terra's:

Tara Markov/Terra was created by Marv Wolfman and George Perez.

In Marv Wolfman's literal website, he stated in his online "What the-?" column:

"Which leads to Terra. That was easy. George and I wanted a Titan who betrayed the others. we also wanted to play against every reader conception of who characters are. George and I knew her whole story before we began and we knew she would die. We set the story up with her trying to destroy the Statue of Liberty to show she was the bad girl, but we knew if George drew her as a cute kid everyone would simply assume she would be ‘turned’ from the dark side because that’s the way it was always done which is why that wouldn’t be the way we did it. Tara was insane an stayed that way right until the moment she died. By the way, she IS dead. I don’t know what other writers will do with her – if anything – but if they want to honor the original series they will leave her dead. The Terra from Team Titans was – as stated – some kid the villain kidnapped and physically and mentally altered her into looking and acting like the original. But she was NEVER the real Terra."

And it should also be noted that he stated before this statement that:

"...Only mistake I think I made with him is having him have a physical relationship with the 16 year old Tara Markov. That was wrong."

So Marv Wolfman himself recognizes that what he did was a mistake, but his intent on Terra was never to write a victim.

And quick note: Insanity isn't written as a mental illness here. It's written like how many villains are labeled as insane for having skewed beliefs that deviates from the common good.

Terra truly had some nazi-like beliefs where she BELIEVED that everyone who wasn't 'special' like her and the Teen Titans deserved to be treated like shit because they weren't 'special' like them. She bluntly said it herself in the Judas Contract.

As for George Perez's comment in an interview I found in this website:

"GEORGE: Tara was just a cute little girl, although I based a little bit of that on my wife Carol’s sister, Barbara. A little upturned nose… Barbara does not have the teeth that Tara had. I wanted Tara to be a girl who looked normal. Which also means her death caught everyone even more offguard.

Tara, she was made to be killed; she served her purpose. That was it.

ANDY: You didn ‘t get any attachment to Tara?

GEORGE: No, because I knew we were going to kill her. So I deliberately used all the things to make her as likeable and cute as possible, so people would never believe we were going to kill a sixteen-year-old. And she was a sixteen-year-old sociopath. She was one of our cleverest gimmicks; we deliberately created her in order to lead everyone astray. So we couldn’t build any fondness for her, ’cause we knew full well what her whole motive for existence was. Her existence was basically to keep the stories interesting; we were tossing a curve that no one would have expected.

ANDY: You didn ‘t even love to hate her, huh?

GEORGE: No. I loved handling her, because she was such a good idea. But she was an idea. Not as much a person. She was there to show exactly how much their humanity can be one thing they have to be careful about, the Teen Titans have to be careful about. . . they can be too trusting, or their own weaknesses can be used against them."

Terra was supposed to be a representation of An Evil Betrayal of Trust and That Not All Cute Girls Are Good.

But they took it too far by making her sleep with Deathstroke because they wanted to truly make her look evil by literally sleeping with the enemy. Y'know because this was the 80s, and women having sex was an evil act back then, and that point of view has somewhat or barely improved 40 years later.

Deathstroke was just shoved into this idea, and Marv tried and perhaps failed at trying to undo this mistake with his talk with Beastboy (Tales of the Teen Titans issue #55) and before his confrontation from Wintergreen (Deathstroke (1991); Chapter 35).

So just as I had stated at the top in the tl;dr, it was a mistake made on many levels and should have been rewritten out just as many had done with OG Terra's true personality, and be done with it.

Random person: "He still slept with a 16-year-old."

And it's not that hard to make other heroes and villains do this mistake. Because again, it's all fiction. Deathstroke's fictional. As in Not Real, so we could literally undo the damage by rewriting this mistake. Or make it worse by making Terra the rapist by her using her Earth powers to bind Slade down and force him, and you can't deny that it's plausible. Because she's fictional. Anything can happen. So why didn't Slade tell Beastboy whether he slept with her or not, maybe it was because he really didn't want to but he was forced into it. And that's just something you can't dump on a very emotional man who was trying to kill you a moment ago.

ALL THE POSSIBILITIES BECAUSE IT'S FICITIONAL!

But ANYWAY, I went way too dark there.

Ending on a brighter note: Personally to all Deathstroke fans, please value your mental health, please don't start any arguments that'll compromise it, and continue supporting Deathstroke in whatever way you can!

#Deathstroke #Slade Wilson

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captainkurosolaire · 3 years

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~ Mass Update ~

Mainly going into future plans and intents alongside ideas below cut.

Ton's of things I've in store this will prove difficult to vent it all out. But here we go... First off rehashing and appropriately learning to tag and organize things better on my blog. Each category will have their own corresponding content, I seek to bring or share. [Tales of Goldbrand] -- I intend this to carry a Compendium of all my writes soon that'll have everything neatly in-order including a glossary, so it'll have highlights of stories that even matter or the best stuff. I've written here for a very, long time, there's been many shifts. I want to make it more accessible. While coloring what matters for people who want to learn Captain or his Crew with less chapters. While also giving choice to find it all easily. This is essentially a step-above master-lists. I'll be doing that after the Saga I have going on, right now is done. [Captain] -- Will provide you strictly with Captain screenshots, gifs, photo-sets. This is still his blog despite the Crew thing's will sort of make this a scuffed Multi-Muse blog. I've few more things to edit and tag fix to get all his stuff though. [The Wild Crew] -- Afterwards this story is done Immortal Age Saga, It's something that I mainly wrote as a passion project within three days to get my warm-up process fixed. It's to allow me to get a feel for all his Crewmates and casts, in combat, in-general, to feel their presences. While also giving a bit of their backstories. At any point, I can go back and polish or tweak things in. They're NPC's but... not entirely. All will have their own 'Dreams' and their own 'Disapproval's' they have their own missions even. These things will factor eventually, they might set seeds, to betray or disagree with something, but that's all angst and more stories to be created, but overall, they'll probably always be Crew, eventually. -- I plan on making character-profile sheets of them and putting them in this Tab, it'll have their screenshots, their likes/dislikes. Some RP partners or people can also be shipped with them, but they'll all be monogamous and originally start off probably Pan. This allows them to figure out what they like on their own stories. I've always been someone who likes organic-flow. Although this one story contain all 16 characters or more, the rest will probably be shortened to a Squad of 4 and dispersed when on adventuring missions. Until I do a War Arc, that's my main goal to build too. [Roster] -- Will contain this Crew in just screen-sets dedicated to them, I'll probably randomly produce those. I've PC players among this Crew too. I may not be done either adding more, but this Crew is mainly built around Quality. Most pirate crew's mainly, have hundreds, thousands. Even Fleets. This Crew has personalities, monsters, people who are living life's that exist with piracy. He's an particular leader that had PC players the same way, he's had split-personality serial killers aboard, tribal chieftains, succubus, all sorts of various people once on a Crew. It's often an outcast style, pirates default are chaotic in nature, so this really isn't any different, it's a Fantasy version of it. There's humanization characters aboard too though, so this cast is really decked, everything and person is vital, they matter because they remind or covet something that others can draw upon. If ever played (Three Houses or Mass Effect / Dragon Age Origins) A lot of things like that are relatable too this structure and format. Which, Is something I want to be able to give when RPing. I want a genuine feel of this new world someone else's muse will be the main-character too. Depending on what's interacting everything they'll be scale appropriately to follow the genre they're in and environment even. [Aesthetics] -- Already explainable what you'll find here. [Asks] -- Same thing. [Prompts] -- Trivial things I was tagged too, I plan on compiling later. [Writing] -- Another alternatively to randomly go-down and it works right now. [Logs] -- Will have more individualistic master-lists and posts there, my poems from Sheik Sphere the Bard, etc.

Things of that nature, I'll probably add still. It's where a lot of my creative writing is summed. [Gems of Hydaelyn] -- My main #tag for other characters and artists, creationist. Lot of amazing people easily to find their zones or follow them optionally if you like. Ton's I intend to support and bolster, be a lot less unspoken. I'm never the type who's been strictly inclusive. But I'll do that when I've time to even explore the dash, I'm always still planning ahead with things and projects. [CKS] My original character-sheet it's outdated on something's but not too terrible. I'll give him polishing someday, I swear? [21+F-List] -- Just purely degenerate stuff of Captain. I'm a pirate blog. I will represent that with openness and furthermore. I'm never projecting you some false-image. I started off a smut-writer by stripping that, I no-longer represent the same aura and identity. But those are strictly his stuff and kinks, I'm effective in executing them but they're not all relatable to me OOC. This blog will always be 18+ containing crude or dark material sometimes, romantic things, this Captain is blunt, will literally put his cock on the table in conversations. Swearing and being censored would be too uncommon and displace most of him, but there's more about him then all this. [Other] -- I pay homage to a lot of characters, I originally am a Concept Designer. Which mean's I make characters and ideas like my addiction. Bad characters / villains or other little things I like to share in designs, I'll put there. Some villains might get little photo-sets, even if they died. Just cause I like their design, or maybe I'll give them an AU, where they won. When I've wrapped up things. [Collabs + Ships] -- Is a new project idea. This isn't going to be something limited too romantic only ships. It'll contain, platonic, romantic, friendships, rivals, frenemies, family, PC Crew, all ships. I am desperately working on improving my gif, screenshot, posing game so I can supply 'Screen Stories' this is not only a way to RP that's accessible with even people who are upon time-crunches from work, It gives visual-representation. To impactful stories shared with others and establish bonds. That are all-valid and impactful matter. Lot of people take a lot of their characters attributes into them and are them dialed up, I work with that and bit more, differently. I'm disconnected from my characters and they'll get hurt and injured and killed by me, that's my duty as their Author to give them conflicts and struggles. I'm their major antagonist, but that doesn't mean at-all, it's always SET that way. The characters I like to make have their own life, they live in this setting and are abide by it, they're often nothing, nobodies, and by the interacting with others, they slowly gradually building, more... Through emotional impacts, they alter, these are REAL people by all their beliefs. Each person they come in-contact with are legitimate and treated like that too. They've always impacted or given them insights to grow, or represent more. Otherwise it'd be criminally disrespectful if I allowed any emotional I felt OOC be the grudge to something IC. Captain in-particular is set on defying me. I cannot have that. ...But I can't stop him. He's met and encountered so many people and lived so many scenarios based on the actions of others, he's giving a chance right now to actually do things a lot further than impossible. The more people he meets and encounters, experiences, the more I lose. These stories are emotionally interactive where everything is a factor and adds to the dice, where the other people are the one who get to roll the dice for him, not me. That's something I want to color in. People range in emotions, they have their down's, ups, their own wholesome-grounding people, spending time with your favorite people, there's nothing more cherishing than that, being in your own comfort-zone or 'safe-space' these are all treasures that we live under, today. Contrary if what people assume of me, I'm not another 'blogger' that's came

before, who's wanting to force a harem, then constantly is bewildered when that falls to pieces cause of selfishness or a lack of communication, or the skeletons they have in their closets and beliefs they hid behind and swindled fooled everyone. I'm not looking to be popular or anything really, I just create stories and want to share in those, and I want to also boost others included, upward with me, especially those who make me. There's no ego in anything I do, this is purely love. I've never cared about being replicated or duplicated, I've had stalkers, I've gone through more then anyone would imagine, I've been used OOC and abused, just for my writing and cold-harshly told, i'd never amount to anything other then that or vice-versa. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Passion. That's all I got and am anymore. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Passion is the hardest thing to keep. It's something that can be stolen, quite effortlessly. Few words of discouragement, a bad negative representation, a lack of confidence, or small amount of time, there's many thing's that can put that flame out. Once you lose it. The difficulty to reattain is hundred-times harder than climbing any mountain for real. I've watched the greatest creators crumble from under the pressure, from beaten down by others. I watched many of them do it to themselves because they put a grand vision of needing validation of another and once lost, felt uncompelling to press onward. But passion also can be given BACK and drawn. It can be shown and encourage others, with a soft-triggering, that pushes them. That motivates, that constantly sticks to it. There are many that fuel me. If I ever quit, I let them down, I spit in the faces of people who're better than me in every-way. Or people who've came and given me their precious Time. That have given their character's or dedication to the abundant stories and community-driven things I've done. There's ONLY things you can do, create, give and provide. It cannot ever come to life without YOU. This is a fact. ...I swear, If you let your creativity soar, you'll be amazed by the heights you get. Constantly polish and learn and hone the best you, challenge yourself day after painstaking day, to draw better improvement on something, no matter how trivial or unfamiliar you are. You'll find a confidence only you can give yourself. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Future Plans --------------------------------------------------------------------- For me, I've got so much more stories to give and also explore, I might be taking up soon some other artists and more skilled people from community and hire them for some of my future writes, to up my game or cause something thing's can't be done in-game cause no background carries it. I also got a lot of-set up things and more angst stuff I want to practice, plus I'm adamantly on that grind to produce screen-sets with the intent's to some sort of improving daily. Additionally more people I'll be reaching out too soon for these collab's ideas and things. I look forward to shaking your hands, giving some hugs, show you my respect and admiration, then creating some enchanting stories and giving plots light. Feel free to reach out to me, I get scattered-brain but I'm working on getting better about it. Eventually will get to you though, my goals, if uninterested just say so when I poke, no bites, unless you kinky. Anyways, cheers hearties.

#ooc #update #future plans stuffz #ToG #Work on thinking of daily practice now

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leavaloo · 4 years

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900 followers! [Dragon!Raihan x F!Reader ficlet]

Wow!! Thank you so much for 900 followers! That’s huge! I’m so glad you all enjoy my writing! I decided to celebrate this with a small, out of the blue drabble of Raihan, the very character that I made this blog to write about lol. While I’m still not doing gen 8 stuff at this moment, I wanted to honor him that way. I hope to keep giving you guys writing, and learning and talking with all of you in the future!

I’ve also started a new writing project in the background, a book I’m currently working on that has been different than what I’ve prompted previously. I hope that, eventually, I’ll be able to share it with you guys, but as of right now, I don’t intend to let others read it, as to not mess up my flow with this! But it’s very exciting, and if you guys want, I might write some original writings for this blog more often as practice or warmups!

It’s been a crazy year so far, and I really appreciate you all sticking with me. I love you all so so much, even when I go in small, inactive bursts. I hope you enjoy this ficlet, and I’ll see you on the next post <3

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You knew your limits, but this was a new high. The skies above that entered into the heavens never seemed to have anything to rival this. Feelings abound, as stormy as the sinking waters beneath your feet, and yet, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t help your drive, your passion, your fascination.

Of course, you also had trust. Trust that Raihan would not take you to your death, even if he was in the form of a two thousand pound dragon. You rode his bronze scaled back, lower and lower into the depths of the water, but you held your breath as the pressure got worse. You closed your eyes, but it wasn’t like there was much to see anyways. The darkness had taken the two of you. You always thought that dragons with large wings and fire breathing abilities wouldn’t be able to swim, or even go these depths.

Though, in the back of your mind, you wondered. Where were you going? Raihan had mentioned that you two were going someplace special to his people. That there was more of them here, and that you would finally be safe. It was a risk, and he would go as fast as he could, but he wanted so bad to show you.

The fear crept into your brain as your lungs ached for air, but you held on. There was still more to go. You thought back to why you were doing this. You two had been hunted, because they found out who and what Raihan was. As a princess, you really had no control of your fate, your destiny. But you resisted anyways. This was the man you loved, the dragon you wanted to be with.

You didn’t know he was a dragon, at first. He was just a lowly servant, one of your personal assistants. It was when mating season rolled around that he ended up acting... different. He pinned for you, every moment of every day, and it became increasingly difficult for him to keep up this facade. When he told you he was leaving, you cried. You wished it weren’t so, and you begged him to stay. Because you too had fallen for him.

After a night of passion, you learned his true self. He gave you the option of staying with your family, or eloping and running away with him. You decided to follow your heart. When you were found the first time, you saw Raihan’s true form. The bronze scales, the magnificent horns, the large, leathery wings, and the protective drive he had for you.

From there, you were hunted, and hurt. You could still feel the scar bugging you on your leg. He carried you for so long, not even an ounce of complaining. Finally, you two had traveled far enough to the entrance from their world to his. It was under a lake, traveling these underwater tunnels to get to and from. It was at the base of a mountain pass that was too dangerous for humans to explore. But he trusted you, and you trusted him.

Eventually, light hit your eyelids, and you released the pain from your lungs. You were met with sweet air as you two burst from the surface of the water to this new land. Raihan immediately turned in to his human form, gasping for air just like you were. He took you by your waist, dragging you to the edge of the water. No one else was there, but the grass almost sang you a welcome. Dark green, like the canopy of pines above you. And he clutched you close, holding you as you two were half in and half out of the water. Soaked, but breathing heavy and alive. Blood poured from some of his wounds from the last attack, but he smiled at you and pushed some of your drenched hair from your face.

“We did it! We did it, baby girl!” he cried out, laughing all the while. His little snaggletooth poked out, his smile blinding as usual.

You laughed back. “Yeah! We sure did... now we have to find your house, right?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Raihan rolled over and planted his lips on yours. He had never been really good at kissing, especially since he was usually in dragon form, but the passion was not lost in the wet mess. You laughed into the kiss, holding his hand as it rubbed a thumb across your cheek. When he finally pulled away, his usual, charming smirk was there. But it faded quickly, as he flopped back to the ground with a long sigh. “Rest. Food.”

“You only get to pick one right now.”

He thought for a second. “Rest. Come.” Raihan wrapped his long arms around you and planted your head on his chest. Almost within seconds, he was asleep and snoring, even with his legs still being in the water. You softly chuckled to yourself, quickly following suit, enjoying the cold air and the feeling of being free with your lover. Dragon or not, it was what you wanted. Now all that was left was to set a life up here, with the charming man you had come to love.

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mylovelyladywhumps · 3 years

Text

I hate that I forget about this blog and how much I just reblog so I’m gonna upload some of my own stuff sporadically :3

I had to get myself away from writing dadzawa or that's all I would ever write, so I made a dadmight whump fic and made it even more sad than I'd originally intended, so let's start with that one! Under the cut :P- *uhhhh CW for blood, allusion to broken necks and bones, and Character Death

*This is part of a oneshot AU I have planned where Toshinori does actually have his own quirk (not OfA) but it doesn’t activate until he gets really, really angry. Like, some serious levels of anger here. That’s why you get all the muscle rippling at the beginning lol. Also yeah I tend to start my oneshot drafts in medias res so idk just imagine a generic villain scenario and pretend that I came up with something interesting*

*alright let’s go. Toshi’s POV*

Izuku’s fearful shout permeated his clouded mind, and there was a snap somewhere deep in Toshinori’s soul. He could feel it. It held the same energy as the final drop of a guillotine blade, or the downward swing of a headsman’s axe.

His organs felt like they were shifting, moving out of the way for something else to come, and his heart dropped hard like the strings that suspended them had been cut. His hands clenched and wouldn’t release, the muscles ever tightening with the sensation of a can being compressed.

Toshinori wasn’t seeing red. He was seeing gray. He was seeing the outline of his kid- his boy -held aloft by the outline of the villain’s murderous hands-

CRACK

Then Toshinori was gone.

“NO!”

Moving faster than any living thing, Toshinori collided with his target and ripped Izuku out of his grasp.

He didn’t stop to consider how it was possible. All the space in his mind was taken up by two thoughts: his boy was in danger, and he’d be damned if he didn’t save him.

Toshinori held Izuku by the waist with one arm and barrelled through the villain with his shoulder. His arms burned, but they didn’t hurt. They burned with the fire of his anger, and his muscles rippled underneath the skin, surrounding his bones like solid lead around a steel frame.

His back roiled, and Toshinori bellowed at the sensation of the bones and muscles superheating and solidifying like liquid metal. His body rocked with the shockwaves and made him stumble, but his grip on his boy was absolutely unyielding.

The villain was winded, and he hacked on phlegm and air, his nose pressed into the dirt. Toshinori spared him no more than a glance before he put all of his attention onto his charge, disregarding the spasms of his muscles and the hot throbbing in his bones.

Izuku was nearly unconscious. Nearly, because his green eyes were slits, and he looked to be at least partially aware. He couldn’t keep Toshinori’s gaze for very long, and he was trembling like a small pebble during an earthquake, making small, abrupt gasping noises as he did.

His neck was red swollen, clearly to become a blackened purple before the day was out, if he made it that long. There was blood under his fingernails and caking into his hair, and speckles of it could be seen on the inside ring of his lips, sprinkling more with every wheezy exhale he managed to make.

As gentle as he could, Toshinori brushed Izuku’s bangs away from his face, cradling the back of his head with his other hand, blood seeping through the spaces between his fingers. He kept his neck still and straight as he physically could; without a brace to keep him stable, not knowing if that snap was Izuku’s neck, Toshinori was on his own.

“Izuku,” Toshinori breathed. “Izuku. Look at me. Look at me, my boy. Come on, kid. Come on! Please!”

He didn’t dare to try and pat the boy’s face to gain his attention; he was too terrified of disrupting the delicate balance of life he’d managed to achieve, too scared to send his boy into shock.

Izuku didn’t respond well. He tried to look at Toshinori, but his gaze just wasn’t strong enough to hold. His eyes were too dull, Toshinori noted with the cold rail spike of panic that drove itself straight through his chest. Too dull, too close to losing that spark of light that Toshinori had fallen in love with. Too narrow for him to see that wide-eyed, bright, adoring gaze that had become Izuku’s trademark.

“You’re okay, my boy, you’re okay. You’ll be okay,” Toshinori whispered to himself under the presupposition that Izuku would hear it. “I’ve got you, son. I promise. I promise, Izuku.”

Aside from a sluggish, delayed blink, Izuku didn’t otherwise react. Toshinori pet his hair with one hand and supported his head with the other, and both hands quickly became sodden with blood. Head wounds bleed a lot, he knew, but he didn’t know if they should be bleeding this much.

“I need an ambulance!” Toshinori came to his senses and screamed at the top of his lungs to anyone who would listen. “I need an ambulance! He needs help!”

“Yagi!” Someone screamed. He didn’t know who. Didn't care who.

Izuku blinked again. Slower.

Then his mouth opened to expose the blood that had been pooling from his split tongue and he choked, spraying his lips and flecking red onto Toshinori’s face.

“T-...T-”

“Shhh!” Toshinori hushed him, harsher than he'd meant to and too scared to control his volume. “Shhh, Izuku. Don’t- don’t try to speak, kid. I’m getting you help. Help’s coming, help’s coming my boy. Don’t-”

Izuku hacked again, harder. Wetter. Toshinori stopped his rambling and tried to prop him up so he wouldn’t suffocate. When Izuku started gagging, Toshinori rushed to tilt him on his side so he could let the bubbling blood drool out of Izuku’s mouth, staining the filthy ground red.

“That’s okay, kid. It’s okay. Let it out, let it out,” Toshinori whispered to him. “Help is coming. You’ll feel better soon. Just hold on for a little while longer, my boy. A little while longer.”

He didn’t know when. He knew someone had to have heard his cry, but Toshinori was still terrifyingly alone, desperately holding onto the fragile life of his favorite person.

With his waning strength, before Toshinori could stop him, Izuku lifted his trembling hand. He didn’t lift it high, and he moved slow, but he brought it closer and closer to his own head.

Toshinori assumed he was in pain, trying to stave it off, and almost took Izuku’s hand to bring it back down until he saw his boy take a handful of his damp green curls and tug.

Then Toshinori realized.

“Damn it Izuku, no!” He snatched Izuku’s hand from his hair and held it tight, as tight as he dared. “How could you-? Why are you-? D-don’t worry about the damn quirk! How-How can you even think about the quirk while you...y-you're...”

Toshinori didn’t complete his sentence. He refused.

Because his boy was dying.

“Oh God, Izuku,” Toshinori sobbed. “Izuku, don’t- just hang on, Izu. Please, hang on for All Might, kid. Please, please don’t go.”

Izuku didn’t appear to hear him, but his lips moved delicately, wasting his precious energy in forming words that Toshinori couldn’t make out. Drops of water splashed onto Izuku’s bloodied face and Toshinori startled when he thought it had started to rain.

It hadn't. Toshinori had just started to cry.

Izuku made another choked noise, and Toshiori shushed him weakly once more. His voice gave out underneath him, reducing his pleas to weak whispers.

“Shh, shhh, shhh, I’m here. All Might’s here, bud. “Toshinori threw caution to the wind and lifted his boy’s body- not a body yet. He’s not a body yet -onto his lap. He held Izuku like a child, cradling his head and neck and hugging his boy close. “I’ve got you, my boy. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.”

Toshinori could only wonder where the days had gone where he could just proclaim those words and everything in the world would right itself.

The cold fist of fear that had been squeezing around his heart clenched hard when Izuku jerked. He jerked like he had been electrocuted, a gargled cough catching in his throat and more blood draining from his mouth. He jerked again. His legs and arms were taut and freezing cold. He was still breathing; how, Toshinori had no idea, but the frigid, black feeling in his gut told him that he wouldn’t be for long.

Toshinori held tight to Izuku as he seized. He kept his neck as straight as he could, whispering nothing and giving him impossible promises, sobbing all the while.

He hadn’t felt this way when Nana died. His heart had broken, and the world became a bleak, dull color for a long time after. But it hadn’t left him feeling so shattered. Like the fiber of his being was being ripped apart. Like his heart had shriveled and died in his chest. Like every hopeless, terrified sob ripped his soul out.

Watching his successor, his pride and joy, his boy, fall apart in his hands...nothing could compare. Not a single thing

Izuku started to hiccup in his seizure, and his hands flailed out for the first time, seeking for something or someone to grab and anchor himself to life, and Toshinori grabbed him and held him.

He held him. That was all he could do. He held him tight and listened to the stutter of his chest and watery lungs, soothing him and telling him he was okay. He wasn’t. And he knew that Izuku knew that. But he refused to acknowledge any other outcome.

Toshinori gave up on waiting for help. If it was coming, it would have been there by then. All that was left now was…

Izuku opened his eyes one more time and met Toshinori face to face, still jolting and caught in the throes of his coughing. Toshinori was weeping openly, letting his tears fall onto Izuku’s face, making all of his comforting attempts worthless.

Izuku’s lips moved some more. Whispering. The last of his breath was being wasted on something Toshinori couldn’t hear, and his heart was too empty to feel frustrated or angry with him.

He didn’t need to hear him after all, it seemed. Toshinori could read his lips clearly.

‘I love you’

“Oh,” Toshinori croaked. “Oh, my boy, my precious boy, I-I...I...I love you. I love you too. My boy, I love you so much, please, oh please.”

Izuku wasn’t looking at him anymore. His eyes were still open, and his chest moved the bare minimum, but his eyes, like flickering candle lights, had moved to the dying sky above Toshinori’s head.

“My boy, my Izuku, please, please, stay with me.”

Izuku’s lips stopped moving. He blinked once, and it lasted long enough to nearly cause Toshinori to throw up before he opened his eyes again.

“No, no, no, please. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me! IZUKU!”

The light went out.

Toshinori screamed.

*Tell me what you think! Thanks for reading. Sry if Toshi's OOC I just really like the drama and I find my whumperflies in dialogue uwu. If you have any suggestions on my writing lmk, I love to learn and I want to grow as much as I can :3* *also the person that shouted Toshi's name in the story was Aizawa, but he was busy with other villains and couldn't get over to help. This is covered in the full story which has not been written lol*

*My AO3 name is MatryoshkaDoll413 if you're curious about my published works*

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hardskz · 5 years

Text

indulge.

pairing — hwang hyunjin x genderneutral! reader

genre — smut; dirty talk, masturbation, choking, praise kink, master kink, hand kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, hard dom!hyunjin

synopsis — after avoiding hyunjin for weeks because you got off whilst imagining his face, he’s making it clear that you haven’t been the most subtle one when staring at him. alternatively, 5.5k words of hyunjin being a cocky little fucker.

note — today marks the one month anniversary of this tragedy of a blog, so here’s my gift to you all thank you for supporting me <3 please enjoy this pwp monster! i tried to make the reader genderneutral since the original request used they/them pronouns and fuck it was a challenge and idk if it’ll ever do that again. (writing porn without using the words dick or clit or good boy/girl when referring to the reader is hard i dare you and i cringed writing this out kms) in any case, the reader is a bottom in this fic!

Having a crush on your friend’s bandmate is one thing. Being attracted to said bandmate to the point where your underwear grows damp just by looking at him (in real life and on the internet) is something entirely worse.

It’s in the middle of the night when you wake up with your heart pounding against your chest and sweat trickling down your back beneath the loose t-shirt. Your wet dreams have been appearing a fuck times too often and feature the same person over and over again to your dismay. You’re lucky you’re the only one in the house over the weekend because you don’t necessarily want your moaning at 3 AM to be the main topic during breakfast.

Hoping to cool down while recalling the many times Minho has complained about one of his cats pissing on the couch isn’t working this time. In retrospect, thinking about Minho’s weird cat antics in an attempt to get out of the mood has never been completely effective for the past three months. Sure, picturing your best friend ranting with his mouth full of half-chewed Cheetos and getting some crumbs on your lap is a definite turn-off, but the needy wish of getting dicked by a particular bandmate of his still lingers.

It’s been three months since you realized that the horny part of your brain has stopped projecting different guys out of your mental archive of masturbation-material faces. Instead, it casts one incredibly handsome — he’s so handsome he should be illegal at this point, you decide — person in your mind. Every. Fucking. Time.

You’ve been trying to erase him out of your head, but perhaps it wasn’t your brightest idea when you tried searching for a new figure to replace him with a clear vision in mind. It took you approximately two weeks to realize that you were looking for someone with long and nimble fingers and plump lips and just everything that Hwang Hyunjin is.

Because of knowing that fucker named Hyunjin in person, you haven’t had any sexual release for the past three months. Again, it’s one thing to have a crush on your friend’s bandmate, but it’s a completely different thing when you get off on said bandmate and then have to face him every week and pretend like nothing’s wrong. You’re bound to see him at least once a week because Minho always forces you to be the judge of the group’s new choreography because it’s, quote Minho, “crucial to getting the opinion from an outsider.” And that although he knows you’re far from a dancer. (You’ve taken one single dance class because he hauled your ass to his studio before he became a trainee and ever since, you haven’t stepped a foot into the dance studio.)

You see Hyunjin more often than compared to the remaining members of the group. Because of fucking course, he’s part of the dance line and also contributes into making the choreography, so it shouldn’t be so surprising that he’s started to act comfortably around you. To your horror, him acting comfortably also includes being touchy. That being said, he’s developed a habit of throwing an arm around your shoulder or pinching your cheeks to spite you alongside Minho. It’s only a matter of time until you have no other choice but to give in because Hyunjin is getting more casual by the day. Then again, you’re holding off because you don’t want to have a bad conscience and—

Fuck it.

You hesitantly bunch your blanket to the side and slip a hand underneath the waistband of your underwear, shuddering at the slightest pressure and opening your mouth to let out a silent gasp. Fucking hell, three months of no touching has made you so sensitive. You try to take it slow, carefully ghosting around your weak spots as you graze your other hand over the inside of your thighs, a mewl leaving your mouth.

A wet patch has formed in your underwear and you’re leaking so much that it’s enough to coat two fingers in slick. By then, your body has switched to autopilot and before you can process it, a finger prods at your entrance and that’s when you realize there’s no use in beginning slowly but surely.

You pump your finger in and out of you at a slower pace and your body’s reacting to it astoundingly sensitive to your ministrations. Your hips buck up into the air in the hopes of more friction and muffled curses fly out of your mouth without intervention. All sense of reason flies out the window when you curl your finger and graze your sweet spot. At this point, you’re already imagining it’s Hyunjin’s finger teasing you, Hyunjin watching your squirming form with hungry eyes and knowing that you’re at the brink of begging him to hit your spot.

Once you’re fixated on Hyunjin, you don’t hold back any longer. You get rid of your underwear completely and then slip a second finger in, whimpering at the stretch. It’s been so long, way too long of having last felt this way and when you start scissoring your fingers, you can’t help but bring “Hyunjin, f-fuck,” past your lips. Why the fuck did you sentence yourself to a masturbating-to-Hyunjn prohibition in the first place? It feels so much better now that Hyunjin’s name spills out of your mouth like a prayer.

With every passing second, your movements grow more frantic. The sound of skin slapping and slick squelching in you and your ragged breath resound within your four walls. The bed starts to creak a little, the blanket has somehow found its way to the cold floor and all you can think about is an imaginary Hyunjin fingering you in a moderate tempo and reminding you how wet you are for him and how well you’re doing.

Your imagination is running wild to the point of no return. You’re imagining Hyunjin’s forehead covered in sweat as he fucks you over with his hands, imagining his bangs falling above his eyes, imagining his tongue hungrily running over his plump, pink lips as he stares down at you. He’d smile amusedly at your whines, would coo about how much he loves hearing you so vocal and then mark you up in purple bruises. As much as he’d want to let everyone see the hickeys he planted on you, he’d know better and settle for your thighs, forcing you to keep them spread out for him. And even then, you wouldn’t be allowed to cum unless he gives you the green light.

“P-please, Hyunjin—” you whimper as you sense your high approaching and your fingers speed up. The sensation is becoming too much to handle, the idea of Hyunjin looking down at your with a coy smile and mumbling profanities as he rams his long, slender fingers into you and abuses your spot without a break. You’re not entirely sure what he’d say, but you’re sure that whatever it is, it’s downright filthy and sexy and affecting you more than he’d initially expect.

“Please, Hyunjin, I’m gonna… f-fu-u-uuck… I’m gonna—”

Hyunjin is a cocky little fucker who thrives on control, so he’d pull out and grin at you wickedly, continuing to leave marks on your thighs and restraining your hands from touching yourself. Your cry comes out louder than intended as you do so and you keep your legs spread apart, breath hitching as the cool air hits you bare.

Hyunjin is a kinky piece of shit who loves power. He’s also pretty damn aware of how nice and big his hands are, and you can’t help but want the feeling of his hand wrapped around your neck and his fingers in your mouth. He’d be so fucking smug, waiting for you to get teary-eyed and thrash around pathetically before he lets you indulge.

“I’ll be good for you, just— please—” your voice cracks towards the end and you turn your head to the side to bury your face into the pillow, muffling out your moans when you slowly finger yourself again, trembling legs still spread apart. “Fuck, Hyunjin, please let me cum!”

“Mmh, cum for me,” you imagine him rasping between low groans, a smug smirk etched on his face. “Since you’ve been so good for me.”

You pick up your pace, fingers drilling into you in an abusing manner and your body jolts up. You’re too far gone to control your voice, high-pitched moans and sobs and broken cries of his name bounce off the not-so soundproof walls, but holy fuck, you needed this so badly. Although Hyunjin would bathe in your sounds, his superiority kink would be fed even more once he shoves down his free fingers in your mouth and burns your tear-stained face in the back of his mind. That’s definitely something he’d do, so you shove three fingers into your mouth, imagining they were his. You whine at the thought of him tapping your tongue, a silent order to suck.

When you cum, it’s with a broken sob and Hyunjin’s satisfied grin in mind. Your body is trembling from the wave of pleasure flooding over you, mind hazy from the excessive stimulation. Three months of sexual frustration, you’re riding out three months worth of sexual frustration, so you don’t give a fuck about the drool running down your chin, tears staining your cheeks or the fact that your bedding is now sticky in cum and sweat. As you slowly come down from your high, you wipe off your hand on your shirt and try to catch your breath, eyes staring at the ceiling.

Well, you’re fucked. You finally committed the sin of masturbating to Hyunjin. You’re still basking in your moment of bliss and thus, you don’t care about the aftermath for now. But tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow you’ll regret what you just did. You just hope the regret won’t follow you strongly for the rest of your life.

Four weeks later and you’re still regretting it.

Nothing has changed so far; Minho still spams your inbox when you’re not yet in the practice room to review a choreography even though you still have ten minutes to get there, and Hyunjin still casually throws an arm around your shoulder and buries his face into the crook of your neck when he’s exhausted and not too sweaty.

Nothing has changed so far except that so much has changed.

Obviously, you can’t avoid Hyunjin like the plague — even though that idea sounds fucking genius — but you’re trying to keep a distance from him. You’ve started avoiding his gaze, giving curt answers when he asks you if anything is wrong (“Why should it be? Everything’s peachy!” God Gracious, who the fuck uses the word peachy?) and always find an excuse to run away when you sense that he’s about to start a longer conversation (“Did you hear that? I should go help Felix!”).

You arrive at the practice room ten minutes later than usual due to the traffic jam and immediately slip out of your new shoes once the door slams shut. Fucking hell, you really should’ve worn those out first. “Minho, don’t even dare to bitch around, my feet hurt and it’s currently rush hour and the last thing I need is you breathing down my…” your voice trails off when you look up and only see Hyunjin raising a brow at you.

Oh. Fuck.

“Where are Minho and Felix?” you ask, realizing that you two are the only ones in the room. You try not to stare too much at his defined arms or plump lips or just the fact that he’s dressed in loose pants and a sleeveless shirt.

“Hello to you too,” Hyunjin scowls and walks towards your direction to put his half-empty water bottle back on the table. “Chan is treating them to hotpot. Well, he invited all of us but I really need to perfect this move, so I passed.”

“So that’s why Minho didn’t send me twenty voicemails today for being late, huh. And I can’t believe you passed on free food. Anyway—” you attempt to quickly slip your feet back into your uncomfortable sneakers. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, I’ll get going then—”

Before you know it, Hyunjin grips your wrist forcefully and cuts you off with a pout. “I still need someone to review my dance, though. Don’t you wanna keep me company?”

You ignore the shiver that runs down your spine and blink slowly. “Uh, you do know that I have no fucking clue about dancing.”

“(y/n), that’s not an answer to my question. Am I really that unbearable?”

“What? Of course not! I just don’t see how much of a help I can be here.”

His pout morphs into a smug smile. It’s as if he knows, but you can’t quite decipher what exactly. The grip on your wrist tightens to the point where you should be worried about your blood circulation but instead, you’re enjoying the long, calloused fingers on your skin.

“Then let me ask you something else. Do I ever cross your mind?” Hyunjin’s tone is light and melodic, but the underlying catch is hard to miss. You gulp, suddenly wanting Minho to appear out of nowhere and begin his speech about why the fuck cats deserve rights and are superior to the human race. The sudden mood shift grows insufferable as you slowly try to pull away. However, Hyunjin is persistent and never lets go and invades your personal bubble. That’s when you find your voice again. It’s small and shaky but it’s something.

“Hyunjin, you’re not making any sense—”

“Do you think about me? Dream about me?” you pale at the accusation. He knows. The smile on his face widens in victory. “Bingo.”

And just like that, he pushes you against the door before letting go of you. Now, you could run out of the room, the door handle is just a few inches away, but Hyunjin is strong and fast and there’s no way that you’d succeed in escaping. Not knowing what else to do without feeling as if you want the ground to swallow you whole, you just stand stiffly. Hyunjin laughs through his nose and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“C’mon, we both saw this coming.”

“Really?” you squeak, trembling at his presence. If only he leaned into you a little more, you’d feel his breath prickling your skin. “I-I mean, uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh really,” he sighs and then slams a hand against the door, right next to your face, the impact so loud that your body jolts. “Then please explain why you’ve been avoiding me as if I were carrying a contagious disease but then proceed to eye-fuck me when I turn my back to you. I’ve noticed the way you’ve been staring at me and honestly, it’s so cute but also so, so naive of you to think that I’m blind. You do know that this room is full of mirrors, right?”

Your eyes widen in fear. “W-what are you trying to say?”

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m intrigued by you. No, scrap that — I want you. I want to tear you apart. I want you to scream my name. I want you crying as you take my cock up to the hilt. I want a lot of things, so much more than you can imagine, but that’s not the point. Remember, I asked you a question: do I ever cross your mind?”

He reaches for your chin with his free hand, forcing you to meet his eyes. Albeit firm, his grip isn’t too harsh so that you can nod in response.

“Obviously,” he says casually, “I wanna know more though. Give me the gory details.”

You inhale sharply. Fucking hell. No. No. No. It’s already embarrassing enough that Hyunjin has noticed you mentally undressing him the entire time and you’re not going down the rabbit hole of “telling him all of the kinky shit you’ve imagined him do to you and potentially making your fantasies come true”.

Hyunjin makes a sad face, but his voice just drips in shameless glee. “I guess I’ll have to force you then. Didn’t peg you as a brat, but I can work with that too.”

“I’m not a—”

Before you finish wording out your complete thought, Hyunjin grabs you by the collar and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s sloppy and devoid of care or emotion, but it leaves you boiling hot and dizzy. Hyunjin knows no boundaries and slings one arm around your waist to draw you closer to him, the other hand resting at the back of your neck. He’s kissing you feverishly like a man starved, forces his tongue into your mouth and doesn’t give you any chance to pull away and breathe. Meanwhile, your hands find their way to his head and tug on strands of pitch-black hair. It’s a weak attempt to break off the kiss, but it just elicits a groan out of the back of his throat.

When you finally pull away, his eyes are hooded and his lips are red and swollen. Catching your breath, you somehow manage to stumble all the way to the back of the room. Hyunjin pushes you onto the semi-comfortable couch before he starts to kiss you again, breaking it off once to discard his shirt. At the sight of his defined abs (you’re finally seeing them in person and not in shitty LQ pictures that a fan took during a concert, thank you God), you suppress the need to run your hands over them.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the show,” he rasps with a grin before he latches for another uncoordinated liplock. Saliva is dripping down from the corner of your lips, but neither of you seems to care.

Eventually, his hands start to roam your body, undoing the buttons of your shirt before sliding it off your shoulders and throwing it into a corner. He detaches his lips from you and before you can complain, he leans down to suck on the patch of skin below your collarbone. A shaky moan escapes your mouth and you throw your head back, whimpering when he begins to bite. Perhaps you got that partially right. Hyunjin loves to mark, just in dangerous areas to your dismay. One slip up and people are going to see the bruises.

His hands begin to wander lower and lower. They’re halfway undoing the zipper when you sob at the faintest amount of pressure and weep, “Stop stop, Hyunjin— stop!”

He stops in his tracks and looks up at you, clearly impatient. “What?”

“I’m, u-uh, I’m really sensitive, okay?” you feel the blood rush to your cheeks when you say it out loud. “I haven’t got dicked in a while and also haven’t been, uh, touching myself, so uh…”

“Why the fuck not?”

“B-because the last time I touched myself, I’ve been thinking about you!”

“So you got off on… me?”

Hyunjin looks so fucking smug, so satisfied, and you’re pretty damn sure it’s not a trick of the light and his eyes really turned a shade darker. Yeah, that superiority kink? You were right on that, he definitely loves to bask in power.

“Yes, I did. Happy? As I was saying, I’m really fucking sensitive right now, especially my thighs, so don’t—” Hyunjin quickly zips down the rest, applying pressure in all the right places and when he strips off the jeans, he makes sure that his knuckles graze your inner thighs, “d-don’t do shit like this— oh f-fuck, Hyunjin!”

“Yeah, I don’t fucking care.” he shrugs and your pants to God knows where. “By the way, I cut you off before. What did you want to say? You’re not a…?”

“I’m not a brat.”

“You sure do act like one,” he says and adds after a moment of contemplation, “Tell you this. You tell me exactly what you imagined me to do when you touched yourself and I’ll see for myself if you’re really not a brat.”

“What?”

“I wanna know what you want me to do to you. You wanna be good for me, don’t you? Then tell me.”

“You were… I— wait, someone might come in—”

“The practice room is booked for us for another hour. Now go on, I’m listening.”

You squirm when his fingers ghost over the inside of your thighs. Any attempts to move away prove themselves futile as Hyunjin plants you onto the couch with his free hand on your hip. “You had— hhhh. o-oh fuck— your fingers in my mouth, told me to suck and— a-aaa-ah— fingered me then…”

He hums appreciatively before releasing the grip on your hip and violently shoving three fingers into your mouth. His fingers are longer than you expected and you close your eyes in bliss as you earnestly suck on them. Eventually, he starts thrusting them in and out of you, tempo getting faster with every movement and you almost gag when he reaches further into your mouth than you ever could with your own. “Baby, you should see yourself. You look so pretty like this.”

When you moan around his fingers, he snickers. “Do you like it when I praise you? We haven’t even started and you’re already doing so well.”

The disappointment you feel when he pulls out is quickly replaced by even greater pleasure when he presses his thumb directly over the wet patch on your underwear. Hyunjin’s not even applying a lot of pressure, but you’re already at the brink of screaming. “So sensitive for me. Fuck, that’s so hot. So sensitive for me and only me,” he hisses while pulling your panties down.

The direct contact of his spit-covered finger just grazing your entrance sends you into overdrive. Even you yourself didn’t expect to be this hypersensitive to everything he does. You’re growing more vocal by the second and slap an arm in front of your mouth to muffle your sounds. However, he’s not having it and chastises, “Stop that. I want to hear your voice. Don’t hold back.”

You shiver at the authority in his tone and before your brain fully processed it, both of your hands are gripping the armrest as if it were your lifeline, the moans coming out of your mouth unfiltered. Hyunjin smirks. “That’s it, baby. Moan louder for me so that everyone in this building could hear you if the walls weren’t fucking soundproof.”

“Hyunjin, don’t tease me, please!” you shake violently, craving more than what he’s currently giving you. His little touches are too much yet not enough at the same time. Partly frustrated and partly needy, your sobs grow more uncontrolled and tears are already forming in your glassy eyes.

But no, Hyunjin is a cocky little shit who loves the sight of you struggling.

“Hm? But I like seeing you squirm like this. How long is it going to take until you start crying properly?”

“I knew it! I knew you’d be like this!” you cry accusingly, “I can’t, I can’t.”

“Why don’t you do anything against it, then? You’re holding back, it’s cute.”

“Because I— fuck, fu-u-uuck, s-stop it— wanna be good for you. I won’t misbehave, please master, allow me to cum—”

“What did you just call me?” Hyunjin is suddenly tense, stops with his ministrations and stares at you wide-eyed. You mirror his movements, just as perplexed by your words. You didn’t even mean it intentionally, it just slipped out. Sure, you knew that he had that superiority domination kink going on, but did he really enjoy being addressed as— “Say it again.”

You lick your lips and watch him closely. “Let me come, master.”

Hyunjin shudders visibly and the groan that escapes his mouth is raspy and deep and liquid sin. “Since you’re so good for me…” you yelp when he suddenly inserts two fingers into you, and fingers you in a rapid speed. It takes him roughly five thrusts until he finds your weak spot before he repeatedly pumps in and out in the same angle, emitting a sob from your side. “Is there anything else you imagined master doing to you?”

“Hands around… a-aa-ah shit— around my…” Hyunjin raises a brow when you reach out for his free hand and sloppily guide him to your throat. Stars fill your vision as he understands and wraps his fingers around your neck, the missing feeling of air making you light-headed. You weep out a silent cry when he moves his fingers even faster and applies slightly more pressure on your throat.

“Fuck, you look so good with my hand around your neck. What’s next? You want me to gag you with my fingers? Pull your hair when I’m fucking your mouth? Run my hands all over your body as you get yourself off on my thigh? You seem to be really fixated on my hands.”

Hyunjin’s words send you jolts of pleasure throughout your entire body. You don’t even register the intent behind what he says, too focused on all the other sensations. At this point you’re too far gone to keep holding onto any thread of rationality; the tears are gradually streaming down, your thighs are trembling and it hurts yet it doesn’t, and your orgasm hits you so hard you don’t even process it until your body starts to sting.

While you’re recovering from your high, Hyunjin picks up your cum on his fingers and licks it off thoughtfully, his eyes raking up and down your fingers. And then he asks in a manner way too casual for the situation, “How often can you cum, hm?”

You’re already fucked out by his fingers alone, and if he keeps it up, the answer is not a lot of times. Hell, you’re pretty sure your limit is two, but you answer tiredly with, “As many times as master wants me to.”

Hyunjin seems satisfied with the reply and then he gets up on his feet. Cluelessly, you send him mental question marks until he motions you to get up too. “What are you waiting for? Take my pants off.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You just notice now how constrained Hyunjin is underneath the jeans that hung on his hips. Wanting to free him out of his misery as fast as possible, you quickly unbuckle his belt and work on his zipper with the lightest amount of pressure you can muster. From there on, it doesn’t take long until you’ve pulled the fabric down alongside his boxers, revealing his hard length.

At the sight of his size, the precum pooling around his tip and the girth of his length, your mouth waters. “Can I suck you off?”

“I’d love that, but not today.” Hyunjin chuckles when your face drops and grabs your chin, his voice suddenly sultrier and a few intervals lower when he says, “Don’t look so disappointed. I know you’d do a great job. If I fucked your mouth without warning, you’d still take it, right? You wouldn’t deny an inch of my dick, would you? Even if you started to gag, you wouldn’t complain because you want to be good for master.”

He drops himself on the couch and the corners of his mouth crook upwards. “I just thought of something better. I bet you look so pretty bouncing on my cock.”

“Holy fuck,” you whisper. He’s right, that’s so much better than having his pulsing dick in your mouth. Fuck, you’ve been fantasizing about this for the past months after all. And just like that, he’s serving it all on a silver platter.

“C’mon, make me feel good,” he mumbles impatiently as he guides you onto his lap and pulls you in for a kiss. You melt into the kiss, let him abuse your lips up until they bleed if he fucking insists, before smearing precum all over his throbbing dick. Once he’s all slicked up, you raise yourself and sink on him, hissing uncontrollably once his head prods at your entrance.

Despite having him loosening you up a little before with his fingers, the stretch is so intense that you break the kiss and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You’re not the only one who’s affected this badly, as Hyunjin lets a particularly loud groan. “Fuck, you’re so tight. It’s like you were made for me. Be good for master and take me to the hilt, yeah?”

With that, he grips your hips so tightly that they form bruises, and slams you onto the rest of his dick. You stutter out a cry and more tears stream down your face. Hyunjin doesn’t give you time to adjust and lifts you up until only his head is still buried in you, only to push you down again immediately.

“God, you’re taking me in so well. Tell me, who’s making you feel this good?” he demands whilst continuing to manhandle you in this ruthless pace.

“You, master— a-aaa-ah, f-fuck— you’re making me feel this good, master!” you choke out, indulging the rough treatment. “You’re the only one who makes me feel so full!”

Hyunjin groans against you and begins to thrust his hips up into you like a madman. “You’re right, baby, only me huh—” he tugs on your hair with his one hand and kisses you in between your hiccups.

It’s hot, way too hot in here. The sound of skin slapping rings in your ears, as well as Hyunjin’s countless muffled praises. You’re both on edge, orgasm washing over you very soon. It’s prominent in the way Hyunjin’s movements grow more frantically, the way you cling onto him as if he were your saving grace, the way he rasps profanities in your ear.

“Cum for me, baby,” he pants, and it’s the one thrust that he delivers where he’s in you balls-deep and in the right angle that makes you come undone with a loud sob. Hyunjin helps you ride out your high before he pulls out of you completely and his release coats your stomach.

The next few moments are spent in silence, save for the harsh breathing. And then Hyunjin stands up to get a box of tissues next to the speakers and wipes off the cum on his abdomen before cleaning you up. You welcome his actions wholeheartedly, still basking in your post-orgasm bliss. Frankly, every inch of your body hurts and you’re damn sure you won’t be able to feel your legs until the end of the month.

“I’m pretty positive I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” you say once he’s done cleaning you up as much as he can with simple tissues and is now retrieving all the clothes on the floor.

“It’s what you deserve after putting yourself through your weird sex-deprivation thing,” he jokes and falls on the couch beside you, handing you your clothes and offering his water bottle. “Want some?”

You silently take the bottle and take three generous gulps out of it. “Not today. You said not today when I wanted you to suck you off.”

“I mean, if you’re up for a next time, that is. If yes, then cool. If not, that’s also fine by me.” The way he replies is so casual as if he didn’t get hard from being called master. “Anyway, let me help you get back to your clothes.”

“No cuddles? You are the worst in aftercare.”

“I was thinking of cuddling once we both look a tad more presentable, but go off,” he snorts. Nonetheless, he’s extremely gentle and careful when he helps you slip into your button-up. No words are exchanged all the while except for his soft apologies when you wince in pain because fuck, even lifting your legs hurts.

Hyunjin keeps his word. After fixing your hair to the best extent, he wraps an arm around your waist and you rest your head on his chest, hearing his steady heartbeat.

“I can’t believe we just fucked in the practice room,” he chuckles weakly. “If this becomes a regular thing, please let’s not do it in the practice room ever again. I work here.”

Of course you want this to be a regular thing. Fucking hell. But you don’t say that just yet. Instead, you opt for: “Well, if this becomes a regular thing, the dorms seem like a pretty sweet—”

“Absolutely not.”

You laugh quietly, but deep down inside you know he really wants to do that but doesn’t want to admit it out loud because Hyunjin’s a kinky little shit. “Whatever you say.”

Still, it’s a lot to process, everything that just happened. It’s so much that it drains you more than it should. Your eyes are starting to feel heavy and you sense yourself falling into a slumber. However, you still catch Hyunjin’s half exasperated, half panicked “don’t you dare fall asleep on me now, at least stay awake until we’re in my car!”

You’re not entirely certain if this is just your mind playing games on you or actual reality, but you like to believe that shortly after his outburst, Hyunjin kisses you fondly on the forehead and softly mumbles, “Whatever. Sleep tight, baby.”

#lulu end a story properly challenge failed i'm bad at this im so sorry idek #stray kids smut #skz smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #dom!hyunjin #sub!reader #smut.mine #hwang.txt #stray kids dark hours

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antihero-writings · 4 years

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Such Fragile Things

Fandom: Castlevania (I wrote it for the Netflix series, but it works for SOTN too!)

Summary: Dracula thought love was soft, and breakable...but what he feels holding his newborn son is anything but. || Some Dracula and and Adrian feels.

Character focus: Dracula

Notes: I also posted this on my Castlevania blog @symphonyofthewrite if you want to check it out there!! (Decided to repost it instead of reblogging it because I wanted to use different notes here XD)

Chapter 1: His Son's Life

Dracula did not read romance novels. He wasn’t really one for novels in general, especially written by humans. Science. Philosophy. Medicine. Not flights of fantasy.

But the humans have a word for this…and it isn’t quite scientific.

That word is ‘love.’

…But that can’t possibly cover it.

But ‘love’ was always a silly little notion. Love was flowers and candy. Love was sappy letters and maudlin advances. ‘Love’ was sensitive and easy to break. ‘Love’ was soft.

But this… this is anything but soft.

This is a thing that does the breaking. It is painful, and sharp in the way it pierces him so thoroughly. It is tethered so tightly around his heart, that if he tried to sever its bonds his heart would burn, and quite possibly break.

This is daggers and I’d die for you. This is a stake stabbed through the chest.

And that is not what he knows of love.

The the baby boy murmurs quiet nonsense beside his sleeping mother.

Vlad stands over the cradle—(a cradle his parents made out of metal, and cotton, and dedication)—the fabric soft against his fingers.

His mother. A human. Completely, and thoroughly. No turning necessary. He could have turned her…but that would have sullied the pink of her cheeks, the red of her lips, the blue of her eyes.

So many humans are out for blood without thirst involved. He needn’t corrupt one that didn’t experience such desires.

Just an ordinary human, who was either brave or very stupid… or maybe a bit of both to walk straight into the demon’s castle. Maybe she was just curious. …He hoped it wouldn’t kill her one day, like the cat who meant well.

His mother. Lisa. With golden hair, and certain shimmer to her words too.

His father. Dracula. A vampire. The vampire. The king of night and all its hordes. A scary story, full of blood and death and the moon was full that night.

—(Could he even be a father after all that killing? Was there a father behind all that bloodshed? Dare he even try to keep something alive, when these hands were constructed to kill?)—

And Adrian. Just born, already with one foot in each world. Half human. Half vampire. The stars dripped from the ceiling, and the sun spilled in through the window.

Would they hurt him for it?

Would this fact grant him safe passage into both worlds, or make him hated by both? Had he cursed this being to a life of not belonging? Or had he given him an opportunity no one else had; to belong to both?

Would being Dracula’s son make him a villain? Or would it make him a prince? Would the humans fear and hate him? Would the vampires bow to him?

Would being Lisa’s son make him a hero? Would the humans accept him as one of them? Would the vampires exile him as a half-breed, impure, no matter if his father had a castle, and a crown, and fangs all too ready to sink into their necks?

Barely noticeable now, he has golden hair like his mother, and fangs like his father.

…He wonders how this creature, so full of light, could come from the king of night.

Then Adrian starts crying.

The king of night is uh…not equipped for this. He’s never comforted a crying child before. He’s made more than a few cry in his time, but he’s never been on the other end…it seems the much more difficult side of things.

He has half—(okay, more than half)—a mind to wake Lisa for help. …But Lisa has done enough for today. Surely he can handle one crying baby.

Vlad is careful not to let his nails pierce the child’s skin as he scoops him up, cradling him in his arms.

Adrian is so small. It doesn’t feel like he’s made of thumping, pumping blood and bone. He feels as if he’s made of glass, and Dracula fears he’ll shatter in his hands.

Dracula has killed so many things in his life. He has killed humans, and animals and, yes, another vampire or two. But he doesn’t want to kill this one. He is so desperate to keep him alive he thinks he might die himself before he saw anything touch him.

Lisa stirs, and Vlad moves the child further away so as not to wake her. He sits in the chair in the corner of the room, by the basket full of toys he will soon play with, and the alphabet charts he will soon learn with.

Dracula did not read romance novels. But he had once heard a lullaby, and he wonders if he can remember the lyrics.

At the gentle song, slowly Adrian calms down in his father’s arms, and looks up at him with those golden eyes.

And Dracula wonders if the world was always this big.

Vampire’s eyes are usually so cold and dark. But he is only half dark, and his eyes are full of sunlight.

He looks up at his father, this dark thing, the killer, the monster king. The creature they said could never learn to love.

And Adrian smiles.

When Dracula returns that smile, it is not an evil sneer tugging at his lips. It is like his face breaks, pouring out all the joy inside him. He leans forward and rests his forehead gently upon Adrian’s.

“My boy.”

******

Notes:

First of all, stay tuned, because I'm probably going to post another chapter of this!! (Fair warning, though, it's gonna be pretty different from this one tonally...though very much related, and feels-inducing!!)

Don't know if anyone will believe me, but this is actually the first Castlevania fic I ever wrote!! This was actually the precursor to “If These Walls Could Talk”!!

I was playing with how to start the scene, and I started describing that "Castlevania was not a good place to raise a child" thing that starts off “If These Walls Could Talk”. Then the way I was describing it started sounding like I was personifying the Castle, and then I was like WAIT THAT'S A BETTER IDEA XD So I kinda got more interested in that idea, haha! (By the way, if any of the lines from this fic are also in If These Walls Can Talk too, now you know why XD I didn't intend for there to be any repeats though.)

Then a little while later I got a really nice prompt asking me to write a diary-style fic about Drac and Lisa recounting Adrian's birth, and I was thinking this ^^ fic and its images would work really well for it, so I didn't post it after that because I thought I'd reconfigure it for the diary thing.

I loved the prompt, but diary-style implies first person...and first person is really tough for fanfiction, and even more so a character like Dracula. It's weird, I love going into characters internal monologue, and I love first person (at least I do as far as my original writing goes), but in fanfiction when I try to write first person it feels almost like "I don't have a right to say I know directly what they're thinking"??...but it's weird, cuz I pretty much already do that... Sorry, I'm rambling! I really hope I can still write that diary fic at some point, but at the moment I'm still struggling, haha.

I've been wanting to get better at editing faster, and posting more often. Lately I've been going through my old/unfinished fics and trying to polish them up and post them, even if they're not perfect in my eyes. So I decided to go back to this one and finish it up anyways! If I do the diary one I guess I'll just have to use other images!

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basementdwellercreaturefeature · 4 years

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You suck so bad and I fucking love you for it.

@tevinter-pariah said something that got me both excited and depressed at the same time: “Anders is everything that people fear about mages while trying to prove that they aren’t to be feared.”

Goddamn. The irony here is exquisite and why I so thoroughly enjoy this franchise. It’s ripe with this kind of shit. The cruel dichotomy we see in so many Dragon Age characters are why I keep falling deeper and deeper in love with it and its why I wheeze for my favorite shifty apostates. Especially my wife, Morrigan, who is my wife and we are married as she is my wife. Allow me this moment to rhapsodize about my favorite magical fuck-ups. Starting with the sewer doctor, moving on to the swamp witch and then finally the ethereal egg.

Now, I could talk about Anders all day and frankly I kind of do. That man is irony walking around in a trench coat, pretending to be human. His desire to remove the stigma about mages leads him down a hellspiral in which all he does is increase the stigma about mages. In an attempt to start a revolution and fight for mage freedom, he inadvertently increases the prevalence of fear-based ideology against mages that makes them cling to their Circles more and supports public opinion that they are imbalanced and dangerous. Anders does more for anti-mage sentiment than most Templars do in a lifetime and it makes me want to both punch the shit out of him and give him a hug because that is the last thing he ever intended.

The tragic irony here is both life-giving and devastating and it makes me feel a lot of shit and write a lot of blog posts. Justice enables him with the fortitude to take action for mage-rights, but the influence of Justice drives him toward a No Compromise™ solution that is so disconnected and extreme it entirely undermines his cause. It practically puts me in a coma thinking of post-Kirkwall Anders, a man who we are shown has immense compassion, realizing that he sacrificed lives in hopes of the ends justifying the means and then nothing changes it only gets worse for mages.

He really sucks.

And my wife, Morrigan, who is my wife, is both harsh and gentle, cold and inviting, powerful and weak. She almost took my Warden’s goddamn kid from him and it broke my heart but man, her arrogance is somehow endearing because its so often sourced in uncertainty. The deeper you go, the more you want to reach out and offer a comforting embrace to the woman who struggles with both knowing too much and too little all at once. No, you don’t try to change her. You shouldn’t, she can change on her own. But you want to be there for her while she tears through the tangle of her own emotions, to see the untrusting swamp witch open for you when you earn it. So much of what drives Morrigan is being different from Flemythal but so much of what she does she only does because of what Flemythal herself instilled in her.

In Origins, she is innocent of so many things. Human interaction, friendships, romantic relationships, the human-built world around her. Yet she is filled with vast lore knowledge and is both wise and willing to lend you that knowledge when you need it. She is capable of childish innocence and exceptional cruelty (ex. kittens holy cow). Morrigan is only able to keep Kieran safe for as long as she is because of the knowledge she gained from the one she is protecting him from. By the time we see her in DAI, she determined to be different than her mother but is still driven toward restoration of old magics and old histories based on the values instilled in her in her childhood. In so many ways, she has grown and changed. In others? Not so much. She still knows how to manipulate, she still can be cruel, she is more concerned with gaining access to the power of the Well than protecting the culture that created it. For someone who loves ancient lore, she is willing to shit on it to get her way.

She really sucks.

Solas is... different. I don’t have the kind of affection for him per say that I do for Morrigan and Anders. For them, I want safe spaces and soft whispers and great sex and the kind of laughter that makes their stomache ache. For Solas? I want to lock him in an Eluvian without access to the Crossroads somehow so he dies alone, gazing through the glass at a world and a woman he will never touch again. No, I am not bitter why would you think that. Honestly, I struggle with a pretty intense hatred toward the Dread Egg and find it hard to empathize with his plight after he revealed his intentions for Thedas. It isn’t a plight I find sympathetic, it downright turns me into a rage beast and I am often prone to frantically smashing my keyboard about him, staring the sentence off with “let me tell you about this mother fucker” or something of the like. But as a writer? I worship that elf. Patrick, your employment of the iam keeps me h y d r a t e d. That same exquisite tragic irony is present in everything Solas does. In his desire to restore, he destroys. In his desire to remedy, he creates more complication. It’s this heartbreaking destructive cycle that never ceases to enthrall me narratively. He is weighted with regret for a cycle he perpetuates, both sure of himself and desperately divided. He is the smartest stupid person there is. In an effort to bury the tyranny of the Evanuris, he himself becomes tyrannical in his refusal to allow the people of Thedas agency in their own fate. He is cruel and kind, humble and prideful, intelligent and foolish, childlike in his enjoyment of the sensual and austere in his refusal to engage in it. Solas is the man lighting his own pants on fire screaming, “Only I can fix it!” at the top of his lungs, as the team has put it. How can you not enjoy a villain like that?

He also really sucks.

But its because the shifty apostates suck so hard that I love them so much, and in Morrigan and Anders case, why I am so deeply attached to them and what happens to them. I am new to the Dragon Age fandom and new to fandom culture in general, and I see something in this fandom that puzzles me exceedingly. Support is often equated to full acceptance and criticism is often equated to complete condemnation. I can recognize that Morrigan is cruel and selfish and still love her wit and strength and resilience. Similarly, I can recognize that Anders is reckless and self-righteous and immature and still appreciate how compassionate he is and his taste in cat names. With Solas, I can admire the eloquence of his writing and the subtle egg snark and his passionate nature while still recognizing that he is elitist and dangerous and a threatening antagonist.

Being positive or negative in commentary is not about romanticizing a character or demonizing them, in my opinion. To me, it should be more about what view am I taking here? Am I looking through a lens of understanding in a desire to empathize? Or am I looking through the lens of critique to try to be more objective? Believe it or not, I can love Fenris and Anders, Alistair and Loghain. I can be anti-Circle while still recognizing the validity of them as an institution. I can be proud to be a Grey Warden while also highly critical of Duncan and the tactics of the Wardens in general. In the morally grey world of Thedas, a black and white view doesn’t really allow you to experience the full range of everything being offered. Let’s try to be more gay and more gray.

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk, have some killer piece by @withoutafuss because it really is one of the best Dragon Age pieces out there.

#meta #mage rights #dragon age #morrigan #anders #solas #critical #positive #honestly dont know how to tag this shit #tumblr confuses me #fandom #dragon age confessions

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thetldrplace · 3 years

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John Lock on Education

Reading John Locke’s Some Thoughts on Education.

“Some thoughts” goes for nearly 200 pages, with 216 sections, so apparently… don’t get this guy started, amirite?

Anyway, I’m always leary when I read philosophers on raising kids. I could never really get behind Rousseau’s ideas, which always came across as ignorant of, you know….. actual children. But, of course, Rousseau never had any kids, so it’s no wonder he had some ideas about raising them that might not square with reality.

Turns out Locke was never married or had any kids himself either, and the fact that he was sickly through much of his life make me think THAT’s what influenced his suggestions about giving kids more rigorous upbringing so their bodies wouldn’t be so sickly.

While I’m only 77 sections in to the work, so I can’t comment on it entirely, I’d say there are some things I find interesting, and others I’m more dismissive of.

The thing with philosophers of this caliber is- they are obviously clever men. And part of philosophy really is just …. Thinking about things. So when someone with Locke’s intellectual caliber sets himself to thinking about something like education, he can present a compelling case.

But I’ll give the first example he starts off with. As part of his recommendations for health, he suggests children should not be bundled up as protection against the cold. He thinks they can be subjected to the discomfort and slowly get used to it. He admits the moms and nannies of England would not want to hear a word of this, but that nonetheless, this sort of training to hardness would result in children able to bear up under any conditions.

Now, I have family in Italy who are near nuts when it comes to the cold. They are convinced that you can’t crank the AC up on a hot day because too much cool air will make you sick. I’m like- turn the @#$%^% AC UP! NOBODY’S gonna die from cooling 100° air down! They don’t want to drink iced drinks on hot days because it would be considered too jarring. These are all things that I do regularly, and I don’t get sick.

I remember one rainy day where I was out playing soccer, and the discussion came up over being out in the cold. His response was- cold doesn’t make you sick, germs make you sick. This is true. But neither are people completely stupid. They learn through experience and time what works and doesn’t, so maybe, sending junior out into the cold, and him getting sick enough, turns into general wisdom about not letting kids go outside in the cold. But if Locke is right, that may have started with moms’ overprotective instinct more than anything else.

I’ll give a bit of evidence to that.

I was reading Darwin’s Voyage of the Beagle, or maybe it was the Origin of Species, can’t remember… and he was talking about meeting with some of the Indian tribes through the strait of Magellan in Argentina and Chile. These Indians went about nearly naked, and in many cases fully naked, in the snow. I can only presume they could do that because they were fully used to it. I’d be dead in a matter of minutes, but I’m not used to the cold at all. In fact, I remember going to Minneapolis St Paul one year in February. I got off the plane in 17°F weather and thought I was gonna die. The next day we were walking around and, to get out of the cold, I ducked into a bank. One of the tellers asked why I had come in and said it was to get out of the cold. They said, “Cold? This is nice. Last week it was 20 below.”

All these anecdotes just go to say that in some respect, Locke may be right. And in fact, to a degree (yeah, pun intended), I’m sure it’s true.

But there’s another side of the debate that is harder to argue. There are things we have learned collectively that we may not even know how we know them or if they’re true, but they’ve arisen as a sort of collective wisdom through time. Those are the kinds of things that people can be very quick to want to tear down. For them, if something can’t be rationally described as useful, then it is akin to old-wives tales and other useless nonsense like when moms would tell their sons they’d grow hair on their palms if they masturbated.

I have to admit that I have a sort of disregard for overparenting. I feel like my generation, and GenX too, waited longer to have kids, and then got a little too smart for their own good when it came to raising kids.

I’ve spoken with so many that said I’m not going to repeat the mistakes my parents made with me. Then they get a bunch of books, and study up on which parenting model they think is best. I feel like this is a natural response in parents that waited to get married. If you wait until your 30’s to get married and start having kids, the tendency is to be more thoughtful in your approach to things.

What’s wrong with that, you ask? Well nothing is wrong with being thoughtful. But when we add the market in, we have a situation where lots of people feel they need to write a book (after all, what do academics do, if not write books?), explaining their particular insights. But the desire to set oneself apart it going to drive a desire to find something new to say about a subject, which is what the market is going to require in order to sell a product, and those forces have undoubtedly led to lots of helpful books filled with nonsense.

I was married young and we had kids young. I didn’t worry about it, I had my parents as role-models and I raised my boys without overthinking things. I let them play and get messed up. I didn’t worry about a lot of things, because honestly, when I was a kid, we just got kicked out of the house to ‘go play’. Both my sons grew up as responsible, productive members of society with good heads on their shoulders. As I read Locke, I recognize I actually DID some of the things he suggests as a corrective. But I just kind of did them naturally, not as a product of overanalyzing things. I do have to accept that it won’t work for everyone. After all, I grew up in a stable healthy family. Lots of people didn’t. Maybe their examples weren’t so good.

And I’m not going to presume to give anyone advice on how to raise their kids. I’ll assume that you as an individual know your situation and your own kids better than someone like me, who can only see the outside. I’m just sharing some thoughts because that’s what this ‘too long; didn’t read’ blog is for.

Over and out.

#Harvard Classics #Five-foot shelf of books #John Locke #On Education

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polandspringz · 4 years

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Director’s Cut of My Fic “I’d Rather Be Dry” Part 2 (Chapter 3)

Chapter 3 was probably the most painful chapter of a fic I’ve ever had to write, and not because I was sad writing the sad scenes. No, this fic was physically painful to write because it took 3 days and I was struggling to sit down and write it the entire time because even though I had the whole thing planned out, I just felt like I was dragging through it and eventually had to change some things to speed it up a bit. Still, it ended up being the longest chapter because I had to tie up so many loose ends! Luckily for me, my beta-reader @primal-shitposts read it through for me again, so I didn’t have to suffer again!!! If you want to support not only me but my beta-reader who makes sure my fic lacks grammar errors (and also gives you this great commentary on these types of posts), please go to their art blog @primal-interstellar and give their artwork some love!!! They deserve it after slogging through this mess of a fic for a game they don’t even play.

Since there are a lot of funny quotes from this proof-read, I’ll post them all under read more. Beta-reader (Primal) is in pink. If you see blue text, that’s me typing stuff in frantically before she skipped to the next line:

I actually originally wrote the opening scene with Satan in a lot more detail. It dropped us in the present where he was in the office, and Diavolo and everyone was just looking on as he slowly ran out of energy. But, I got about 3 pages in and realized it was dragging and so I cut it and swapped it for a flashback on the walk home.

While I intended for this to be a much more dramatic anime scene of Satan just silent as he ran out of steam and could barely move his arms save for slapping the guy, I love this interpretation.

I CAN’T EXPLAIN WHY BUT THIS WAS THE FUNNIEST COMMENT IN THE DOCUMENT. NOTHING TOPPED THIS. I DON’T UNDERSTAND BUT IT’S SO OUT OF LEFT FIELD IT HAD ME DYING

Primal knows about Lucifer birthing Satan because the moment I started playing the game I made her watch a crack video with me that mentioned it. Although I know she likes Leviathan cause sea monsters, I’m convinced Satan might be one of her favorites. On a side note, writing dialogue for Satan is very hard because he is very proper but when he snaps, I always feel unsure of whether it sounds believable or just like a string of curses that a twelve year old would think sounds cool. 😎 I do like the father/son dynamic Lucifer and Satan hint at though (and from what I hear the new lessons might be adding on to that? oWO)

I honestly don’t know how the demons who attacked MC aren’t dead yet. They’re basically disfigured and then Satan just doubled the damage and then tripled it in the council room this chapter. Somehow they’re not dead though! I wonder what MC will have to say about their punishment...

QUICK, SOMEONE DRAW SATAN WITH THE CRAFTING TABLE STARING AT THE DOOR WHILE THE EQUATIONS FLY BY HIS HEAD

I did choose the “yes” option when Beel asked to eat me in the animal event. It was not because of vore though, but I do make many vore jokes. I could imagine MC being forced to explain vore to Lucifer (or all the brothers) after making a joke and them being confused. Writing Beel’s breakdown this chapter wasn’t initially planned, and it was sort of what really started to make writing this fic slow down because as you might notice throughout the fic, I suddenly felt the need to give every brother an equal amount of screen time which sort of led to me RUNNING OUT OF VERBS for how to make each breakdown unique.

Okay, so the next part. I was actively seeing the comments as they popped up, but there was a delay with the comment box on the side appearing before the actual comments in the text. So, I saw this:

And had two seconds to go “Oh no” before this was added:

From here on it was chaos.

Listen, the boys are idiots. They’re all concerned, Mammon just doesn’t want MC to get upset again. In reality, this sort of dialogue stemmed more from me still lingering on the original idea of the fic. The original concept of this fic (when it was just a one-shot) was MC still getting attacked by a demon in the locker-room showers (for their soul) but because I was originally thinking about a female reader, I knew that it could have more of an undertone for sexual assault. I actually first discussed the fic idea with Primal months back when I first got into Obey Me, because I wanted to write a snippet of each brother helping MC after the event (it wasn’t going to be extreme, I was thinking more accidental scratches during the scuffle closer to the chest and such and maybe the assailants having more dialogue demeaning MC for being around the 7 brothers all the time) but I realized I didn’t have much experience with that and it would make writing scenes that I thought about (such as Asmo wanting to give MC a bath as aftercare) difficult as I could see someone after an attack like that not wanting to be in a bathroom with someone else or be vulnerable to them. I ended up playing with that idea in my previous Mammon fic with more different comfort aspects and touching on that kind of assault briefly, so this fic ended up just being focused on the brothers’ being upset over what happened to MC.

As much as writing Satan’s angry dialogue is a pain, I have fun making him talk with a more formal tone, it’s closer to how I normally talk, and prefer to write my characters talking. I have no problem writing contractions or more casual speech, but for one of my fantasy stories, where I’m writing in English but trying to differentiate different languages through italics or just whether they use certain contractions or not, I tend to really stress the characters that use absolutely zero and more complicated synonyms.

I DON’T KNOW WHY BUT IT WOULD BE HILARIOUS IF MC JUST ASKED FOR SOUP OUT OF THE BLUE I’M IMAGINING ASMO BEING LIKE “BITCH I TOOK ALL THIS TIME DEBATING OVER HOT OR COLD TEA AND NOW YOU’RE SAYING YOU’RE FINE WITH HOT SOUP???”

I know the shower idea may have been really corny or cringey. I know a lot of people write things like the water in Devildom as being much hotter (cause their near hell and their demons! It makes sense, also I think Asmo might have mentioned in a text chat he would make the water cooler for MC? But I could be wrong) but I imagine their is some demons who aren’t powerful enough to handle a lot of the settings. Of course though, our demon bros are 7 of the highest demons in Devildom, so they’re immune.

*Slaps this comment* Congrats, Primal. You just summarized the entire chapter.

I find Leviachan to be such a funny nickname, mainly because writing any dialogue for Levi makes me cringe because while I was a VERY big weeaboo in elementary and middle school, I was so lucky I never hit his stage of acting like an otaku. While it’s charming, having to type him in more modern fic is even more painful because it’s like “oh god he actually goes into the real world and talks like this). Sidenote, I always mispronounce Levi’s name when I’m talking about him, mainly because I have to remember so many anime characters where their name is pronounced Lee-Vai or I just think of the brand of jeans (fashion major brain). So, whenever I’m talking out loud about him to someone, I have to stop and be like, “Levi... Leviachan...Leviathan...” because that “a” sound corrects my brain to how it’s supposed to be.

*throws confetti again* Believe I felt the pain of this fic dragging through every boy going back on their character development I had given them but I felt it was only fair that each of them got time with MC. As the tag on archive says, “everybody gets time to shine with MC”. (I really just want to write Barbatos’ scene for chapter 4 though)

This scene was hard to write because I wanted Levi to get closure on the scene with MC, but I couldn’t have him straight up kabedon them because then he would be cornering them and I thought that would be too much like what MC went through in the shower. Although I didn’t write anyone in explicitly summarizing what happened to MC, and Levi saw the least of it, I think he’s seen enough series depicting it to know that cornering them would be bad, but he still wants to show that he loves them and cares about them. Also, when I was writing this, I remember just going through a counter of who got the most smooches in chapter 3. Originally only Mammon was going to get 2, putting him in the lead above everyone who got 1, but then I felt back for giving Levi the least screen time and just gave him 3.

Honestly, chapter 3 really took a turn for a more intimate chapter??? Especially with Asmo’s one-on-one scene with MC, it was all downhill from there. I have noticed with quarantine, my writing has become more focused on touch (if you read any of my Balance:Unlimited fics or even my Mammon fic, you would definitely die if you tried to do a drinking game with the number of times someone TOUCHES the other gently). It’s just an unfortunate projection issue that comes with writing.

And here is complete chaos. I had blocked this game from my memory and then I was forced to remember it right here.

Removing these meme images from the fic text will be tedious, and painful. But, I am preserving them here. (I type up these directors’ cuts before publishing the final version of the fic, so I don’t lose the comments)

I’m not even at lesson 16 yet, but based on all the spoilers I read, watched, and scene for research purposes, I’m pretty sure it was more of a-

This is what writing 11k+ words for one chapter worth it. The final read through I get to enjoy things like this.

I wish Belphie was 7′2″. 😳 I like Beel but Belphie is one of my favs. Ironically enough he was the one who skipped this fic. (I’ll make it up to you one day, Belphie fans.... will we ever know what they talked about and what made Belphie cry? Personally, I think it’s like the iceberg effect Hemingway talked about, and says more under the surface... it’s totally not because I got burned out, lolololol.... 🤭)

I WAS ACCIDENTALLY FEEDING DIALUCI STANS but again, if you’ve read my Mammon fic, you probably know my true thoughts on Diavolo and Lucifer’s relationship. This fic is so MC focused, I wasn’t intending to write it in so much, Diavolo was just supposed to order Lucifer to go home, that’s it. But, I got rejuvenated when I hit Lucifer’s scene, because I knew it was the homestretch for the chapter! I really played up a Hamilton reference accidentally, having the “Go home” line repeated, because it just felt like the vibe the scene was getting at. I am hoping to explore Diavolo and Lucifer’s relationship more in my modern au fic, Siberia.

I hate tumblr because if I attach a link in the initial post, this won’t appear in the tag, but Primal’s comment here made me think of this art I saw of Lucifer and Satan the other day by ObsessiveAlice (I don’t want to tag them because they’ll be so confused by this long unrelated post! But I’ll put the link to their art in the notes/replies on this post, so check them out!!!)

I know it wasn’t the most romantic kiss but again I WAS RUNNING OUT OF WAYS TO MAKE THE BROTHERS HAVE UNIQUE SCENES SO I GOT DESPERATE.

And that’s the end!!! Again, if you liked the fic, more than giving me a like or reblog, please go check out Primal’s wonderful artwork @primal-interstellar !!! She does a lot of great oc work and it needs more recognition!!! Almost all of my fics would never get posted without her help, so please, please, please show her support! (She has an animatic she just made which I will also link in the replies!!! Please give that love too!!!)

Anyway, if you made it to the end, I don’t know if you got a laugh out of this, but I hope you enjoyed the fic commentary somewhat! I was going to post chapter 3+4 at the same time like I did the prior chapters, but chapter 3 took so long I had to just lay on my floor for 3 hours earlier today to take a break from it, lol. Luckily, I’m very excited for chapter 4, so it shouldn’t take as long!!!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me masters #writing #my writing #fanfic #fic #obey me fic #directors cut

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the-desolated-quill · 4 years

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Watchmen - Movie blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. if you haven’t seen this movie yet, you may want to before reading this review)

A movie adaptation of Watchmen had been in development in some form or another since the graphic novel was first published back in 1987. Over the course of its two decade development cycle, being passed from filmmaker to filmmaker who each had their own vision of what a Watchmen movie should be, fans objected to the idea of a movie adaptation, describing Watchmen as ‘unfilmmable.’ Alan Moore himself condemned the effort to adapt his work, saying that Watchmen does things that can only be done in a comic book. But where there’s a will, there’s a way, and in 2009, Watchmen finally came to the big screen, directed by Zack Snyder.

I confess it took me a lot longer to write this review than I intended and that’s largely because I wasn’t sure how best to approach it. Snyder clearly has a lot of love and respect for the source material and tried his best to honour it as best he could. Snyder himself even said that he considers the film to be an advert for the book, hoping to get newcomers interested in the material. So how should I be looking at this film? As an adaptation or as an artistic tribute? More to the point, which of the three versions of the film should I be reviewing? The original theatrical cut, the director’s cut or the ultimate cut? Which best reflects Snyder’s artistic vision?

After much pondering, I decided to go with the director’s cut. The theatrical release was clearly done to make studio execs happy by keeping the runtime under three hours, but it comes at the cost of major plot points and character moments being chucked away. The ultimate cut however comes in at a whopping four hours and is arguably the most accurate to the source material as it also contains the animated Tales Of The Black Freighter scenes. However these scenes break the narrative flow of the film and were clearly not intended to be part of the final product, being inserted only to appease the fans. The director’s cut feels most like Snyder’s vision, clocking in at three and half hours and following the graphic novel fairly closely whilst leaving room for artistic licence.

Now as some of you may know, while I’m not exactly what you would call a fan of Zack Snyder’s work, I do have something of a begrudging respect for him due to his willingness to take creative risks and attempt to tell more complex, thought provoking narratives that don’t necessarily adhere to the blockbuster formula. Films like Watchmen and Batman Vs Superman prove to me that the man clearly has a lot of good ideas and a drive to really make an audience think about what they’re watching and question certain things about the characters. The problem is that he never seems to know how best to convey those ideas on screen. In my review of Batman Vs Superman, I likened him to a fire hose. Extremely powerful, but unless you’ve got someone holding onto the thing with both hands and pointing it in the right direction, it’s just going to go all over the place. I admire Snyder’s dedication and thought process, but I think the fact that his most successful film, Man Of Steel, also happens to be the one he had the least creative influence on speaks volumes. When he’s got someone to work with and bounce ideas off of, he can be a creative force to be reckoned with. Left to his own devices however, and his films tend to go off the rails very quickly.

Watchmen is very much Snyder’s passion project. You can tell a lot of care and effort went into this. The accuracy of the costumes, staging and set designs speak for themselves. However there is an underlying problem with Snyder trying to painstakingly recreate the graphic novel on film. While I don’t agree with the purists who say that Watchmen is ‘unfilmmable’, I do agree with Alan Moore’s statement that there are certain aspects of the graphic novel that can only work in a graphic novel. A key example of this is its structure. Watchmen has the luxury of telling its non-linear narrative over twelve issues in creative and unorthodox ways. A structure that’s incredibly hard to translate into any other medium. A twelve episode TV mini-series might come close, but a movie, even a three hour movie, is going to struggle due to the sheer density of the material and the unconventional structure. Whereas the structure of the graphic novel allowed Alan Moore to dedicate whole chapters to the origin stories of Doctor Manhattan and Rorschach and filling in the gaps of this alternate history, the structure of a movie doesn’t really allow for that. And yet Snyder tries really hard to follow the structure of the book even though it simply doesn’t work on film, which results in the movie coming to a screeching halt as the numerous flashbacks and origin stories disrupt the flow of the narrative, causing it to stop and start constantly at random intervals, like someone kangarooing in a rundown car.

Just as Watchmen the graphic novel played around with the common tropes and framing devices of comics, Watchmen the movie needed to play around with the common tropes and framing devices of comic book movies. To Snyder’s credit, there are moments where he does do that. The most notable being the first five minutes where we see the entire history of the world of Watchmen during the opening credits while ‘The Times They Are A-Changing’ is played in the background. This is legitimately good. It depicts the rise and fall of the superhero in a way only a movie can. I wish Snyder did more stuff like this rather than restricting himself to just recreating panels from the graphic novel.

Which is not to say I think the film is bad. On the contrary, I think it’s pretty damn good. There’s a lot of things to like about this movie. The biggest, shiniest gold star has to go to Jackie Earle Haley as Rorschach. While the movie itself was divisive at the time, Haley’s portrayal of Rorschach was universally praised as he did an excellent job bringing this extreme right wing bigot to life. He has become to Rorschach what Ryan Reynolds is to Deadpool or what Mark Hamill is to the Joker. He is the character (rather tragically. LOL). To the point where it’s actually scary how similar Haley looks to Walter Kovacs from the graphic novel. The resemblance is uncanny.

Another standout performance is Jeffery Dean Morgan as the Comedian. Just as depraved and unsavoury as the comic version, but Morgan is also able to inject some real charm and pathos into the character. You believe that Sally Jupiter would have consensual sex with him despite everything he did to her before. But his best scene I think was his scene with Moloch (played by Matt Frewer) where the Comedian expresses regret for all the terrible things he did. It’s a genuinely emotional and impactful scene and Morgan manages to wring some sympathy out of the audience even though the character doesn’t really deserve it. But that’s what makes Rorschach and the Comedian such great characters. Yes they’re both depraved individuals, but they’re also fully realised and three dimensional. They feel like real people, which is what makes their actions and morals all the more shocking.

Then there’s Doctor Manhattan, who in my opinion stands as a unique technical achievement in film. The number of departments that had to work together to bring him to life is staggering. Visual effects, a body double, lighting, sound, it’s a truly impressive collaborative effort, all tied together by Billy Crudup’s exceptional performance. He arguably had the hardest job out of the whole cast. How do you portray an all powerful, emotionless, quantum entity without him coming across as a robot? Crudup manages this by portraying Manhattan as being less emotionless and more emotionally numb, which makes his rare displays of emotion, such as his shock and anger during the TV interview, stand out all the more. It’s a great depiction that I don’t think is given the credit it so richly deserves.

Which leads into something else about the movie, which will no doubt be extremely controversial, but I’m going to say it anyway. I much prefer the ending in the film to the ending in the book.

Hear me out.

In my review of the final issue of Watchmen, I said I didn’t like the squid because of its utter randomness. The plot of the movie however works so much better both from a narrative and thematic perspective. Ozymandias framing Doctor Manhattan makes a hell of a lot more sense than the squid. For one thing, it doesn’t dump a massive amount of new info on us all at once. It’s merely an extension of previously known facts. We know Ozymandias framed Manhattan for giving people cancer to get him off world. It’s not much of a stretch to imagine the world could also buy that Manhattan would retaliate after being ostracised. We also see Adrian and Manhattan working together to create perpetual energy generators, which turn out to be bombs. It marries up perfectly with the history of Watchmen as well as providing an explanation for why there’s an intrinsic field generator in Adrian’s Antarctic base. It also provides a better explanation for why Manhattan leaves Earth at the end despite gaining a newfound respect for humanity. But what I love most of all is how it links to Watchmen’s central themes.

Thanks to the existence of Doctor Manhattan, America has become the most powerful nation in the world to the point where its disrupted the global balance of power. This has led to the escalation of the Cold War with Russia as well as other countries like Vietnam being at the mercy of the United States. It also allowed Nixon to stay in office long after his two terms had expired. The reason the squid from the book is so unsatisfying as a conclusion is because you don’t buy that anyone would be willing to help America after the New York attack. In fact it would be more likely that Russia and other countries might take advantage of America’s vulnerability. Manhattan’s global attack however not only gives the whole world motivation to work together, it also puts America in a position where they have no choice but to ask for help because it was they that effectively created this mess in the first place. So seeing President Nixon pleading for a global alliance feels incredibly satisfying because we’re seeing a corrupt individual hoist by his own petard and trying to save his own skin, even if it comes at the cost of his power. America is now like a wounded animal, and while world peace is ultimately achieved, the US is now a shadow of its former self. It fits in so perfectly with the overall story of Watchmen, frankly I’m amazed Alan Moore didn’t come up with this himself.

It’s not perfect however. Since the whole genetic engineering stuff no longer exists, it makes the existence of Adrian’s pet lynx Bubastis rather perplexing. Also the whole tachyons screwing with Doctor Manhattan’s omniscience thing still doesn’t make a pixel of sense. But the biggest flaw is in Adrian Veidt’s characterisation. For one thing, Matthew Goode’s performance isn’t remotely subtle. He practically screams ‘bad guy’ the moment he appears on screen. He has none of the charm or charisma that the source material’s Ozymandias had. But it’s worse than that because Snyder seems to be going out of his way to uncomplicate and de-politicise the story and characters. There’s no mention of Adrian’s liberalism or his disdain for Nixon and right wing politics. The film never explores his obsession with displaying his own power and superiority over right wing superheroes like Rorschach and the Comedian. He’s just the generic bad guy. And I do mean bad guy. Whereas the graphic novel left everything up to the reader to decide who was morally in the right, the film takes a very firm stance on who the audience should be siding with. Don’t believe me? Just look at how Rorschach’s death is presented to us.

It’s very clear while watching the film that Zack Snyder is a big Rorschach fan. He gets the most screen time and there’s a lot of effort dedicated to his portrayal and depiction. And that’s fine. There’s nothing necessarily wrong with that. As I’ve mentioned before in previous blogs, Rorschach is my favourite character too. However it’s important not to lose sight of who the character is and what he’s supposed to represent, otherwise you run the risk of romanticising him, which is exactly what the film ends up doing. Rorschach’s death in the graphic novel wasn’t some heroic sacrifice. It was a realisation that he has no place in the world that Ozymandias has created, as well as revealing the hypocrisy of the character. In the extra material provided in The Abyss Gazes Also, we learn that, as a child, Walter supported President Truman’s use of the atomic bomb in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and yet, in his adult life, he opposes Adrian’s plan. Why? What’s the difference? Well the people who died in Hiroshima and Nagasaki weren’t American. They were Japanese. The enemy. In Rorschach’s mind, they deserved to die, whereas the people in New York didn’t. It signifies the flawed nature of Rorschach’s black and white view of the world as well as displaying the racist double standards of the character. Without the context of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Rorschach’s death becomes skewed. This is what ends up happening in the movie. Rorschach removes his mask and makes a bold declaration to Doctor Manhattan, the music swells as he is disintegrated, defiant to the last, and his best friend Nite Owl screams in anguish and despair.

In fact the film takes it one step further by having Nite Owl punch Adrian repeatedly in the face and accuse him of deforming humanity, which completely contradicts the point of Dan Dreiberg as a character. He’s no longer the pathetic centrist who requires a superhero identity to feel any sort of power or validation. He’s now the everyman representing the views of the audience, which just feels utterly wrong.

This links in with arguably the film’s biggest problem of all. The way it portrays superheroes in general. The use of slow motion, cinematography and fight choreography frames the superheroes and vigilantes of Watchmen as being powerful, impressive individuals, when really the exact opposite should be conveyed. The costumes give the characters a feeling of power, but that power is an illusion. Nite Owl is really an impotent failure. Rorschach is an angry bigot lashing out at the world. The Comedian is a depraved old man who has let his morals fall by the way side so he can indulge in his own perverse fantasies. They’re not people to be idealised. They’re to be at pitied at best and reviled at worst. So seeing them jump through windows and beating up several thugs single handed through various forms of martial arts ultimately confuses the message, as does the use of gratuitous gore and violence. Are we supposed to be shocked by these individuals or in awe?

Costumes too have a similar problem. Nite Owl and Ozymandias’ costumes have been updated so they look more imposing, which kind of defeats the purpose of them. The point is they look silly to us, the outside observers, but they make the characters feel powerful. That juxtaposition is lost in the film. And then there’s the Silk Spectre. In the graphic novel, both Sally and Laurie represent the changing attitudes of women in comics and in society. Both Silk Spectres are sexually objectified, but whereas Sally accepts it as part of the reality of being a woman, Laurie resists it, seeing it as demeaning. The only reason she wore her revealing costume in A Brother To Dragons was because she knew that Dan found it sexually attractive and she wanted to indulge his power fantasy. None of this is touched upon in the film, other than one passing mention of the Silk Spectre porn magazine near the beginning of the film. There’s not even any mention of how impractical her costume is, like the graphic novel does. Yes the film changes her look drastically, but it’s still just as impractical and could have been used to make a point on how women are perceived in comic book films, but it never seems to hinder her in anyway. It’s never even brought up, which is ridiculous. Zack Snyder’s reinterpretation of Silk Spectre is clearly meant to inject some form of girl power into the proceedings, as she’s presented as being just as impressive and kick-ass as the others, when the whole point of her character was to expose the misogyny of the comics industry at the time and how they cater to the male gaze. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying the graphic novel did it perfectly, but it did it a hell of a lot better than this.

Die hard fans have described the film over the years as shallow and ‘style over substance.’ I don’t think that’s entirely fair. It’s clear that Zack Snyder has a huge respect for the graphic novel and wanted to do it justice. Overall the film has a lot of good ideas and is generally well made. However, as much as Snyder seems to love Watchmen, it does seem like he only has a surface level understanding of it, hence why the attention and effort seems to be going into the visuals and the faithfulness to Alan Moore’s attention to detail rather than the Watchmen’s story and themes. While the film at times makes some good points about power, corruption and morality, it doesn’t go nearly as far as the source material does and seems to shy away from really getting into the meat of any particular topic. Part of that I suspect is to do with marketability, not wanting to alienate casual viewers, but I think a lot of it is to do with it simply being in the wrong medium. I personally don’t think you can really do a story as complex and intricate as Watchmen’s justice in a Hollywood film. In my opinion, this really should have been a TV mini-series or something.

So on the whole, while I appreciate Snyder’s attempt at bringing the story of Watchmen to life and can see that he has the best intentions in mind, I don’t think this film holds a candle to the original source material.

#watchmen #dc #warner bros #zack snyder #review #spoilers

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mittensmorgul · 5 years

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15.01 Back And To The Future rewatch notes

Note to anyone reading: I’ve already written a mishmosh of other posts addressing stuff in this episode, so this post is not a comprehensive list of every important or interesting thing in 15.01. This post is “things I haven’t otherwise talked about elsewhere yet” or “things I’ve been meaning to talk about in more detail but haven’t yet,” or “things I’d otherwise be compelled to write into the transcript doc in the other tab and really really shouldn’t.” Because that’s actually the purpose of this particular rewatch-- writing up the transcript. Which is happening in the other tab. :P

(i’m gonna go post the transcript now, so it should be up as soon as I get all the html un-screw-ified... >.>)

That said, let’s gooooo!

well, under a cut because long-ish >.>

I already talked about the song choice, and the fact it was the opening montage music in 9.10 (rip Lamp-- yes, this song has forever been the imaginary background music to Lamp/Other Lamp, sorry, the brain wants what the brain wants). It also reminded me of 11.04, the Night Moves scene, combined with Dean’s joke about how Piper brushed Sam off without giving him her number, and Dean replied “We got tonight, who needs tomorrow,” where Sam asks Dean if everything is a Bob Seger song to him. Because, heh, here have another Bob Seger song summing up the end of the road here.

But I love how the lyrics MATCH UP with the action in this opening scene.

♪It's been a long time since you smiled♪ [zombies circle around TFW cutting off their chance of escape] Chuck: Story's over. Welcome to the End. [Cas kneels over Jack's body] ♪Seems like oh, so long ago♪ --NOW-- [in the graveyard, the scene picks up where 14.20 left off, and the music continues uninterrupted from the Road So Far montage. TFW battle a zombie horde, as we zoom out from Jack's burned out eyes and the fighting rages on] ♪And now the stage has all been set♪ ♪And the nights are growing cold♪ ♪Soon the winter will be here♪ ♪And there's no one warm to hold♪ ♪Now the lines have all been read♪ Cas: Sam! Dean! ♪And you knew them all by heart♪ ♪Now you move toward the door♪ [Cas picks up Jack's body and runs, leading the way out of the zombie fight. Sam and Dean follow, dodging monsters and graves] ♪Here it comes the hardest part♪ ♪Try the handle of the road♪ Sam [spotting potential refuge]: Dean, this way! ♪Feeling different, feeling strange♪ ♪This can never be arranged♪ ♪From the famous final scene♪

Then there’s the DRAMATIC ZOOM in on Dean that literally cuts Cas out of the shot as Dean reacts to his line that “Well, I wouldn’t starve.” Like that was the moment Dean began to literally shut Cas out, because he feels that line was Cas shutting HIM out. So instead of trying to deal with any of that because ZOMBIES TRYING TO BREAK DOWN THE DOOR is a more immediate concern, he turns his back and goes on his little tirade about Chuck. Like he was reliving that moment he got to smash Chuck’s guitar and wishes he could do it again.

And then we meet Belphegor, who already has a rather hopping tag on my blog, so I’m gonna… just move on a bit from here…

I am in pain over this callback to Bloody Mary, with the teenage girls who seem far younger than the girls from the original. These girls are far more innocent. They didn’t call up bloody Mary, they have no guilt of having killed anyone on their souls. Bloody Mary just… showed up. And tortured and killed them.

But this parallel was twisted. In the original, the girls’ father apparently gave their mother an overdose of sleeping pills that led to her death. in the new version, one of the girls’ parents just got divorced and was compensating by going on a shopping spree and buying everything her daughter wanted. These girls were laughing, loving what that divorce brought them.

It’s sort of a more cheerful parallel to Dean and Cas’s fracturing relationship over their dead son’s body…Well, more cheerful until Bloody Mary kills them, anyway.

Sam learns there’s no sudden worldwide zombie outbreak, so the incident seems localized to that one graveyard.

And at this point I started a THIRD thing I’m working on at the same time, because two was apparently not enough. I think I’m gonna copy/paste that stuff here, instead. It’s about the Three Ghosts of this episode-- each parallelled directly to one of TFW. Bloody Mary was one, and in this episode she was Cas’s parallel. It’s her victims Cas will find-- two little girls who never deserved the fate Bloody Mary dished out to them. But Mary Worthington had been murdered herself, and her killer never caught. So she originally killed people who kept secrets about others’ deaths as a form of revenge against her own killer. In trying to protect others, she became a killer herself. And heck if that’s not painfully Cas… or something he feels he’s painfully failed to do, to protect the Winchesters from having to do horrific things. And he DID sell his own potential future happiness in exchange for Jack’s life, only to have just watched Jack die horrifically. His sacrifice, again, has amounted to nothing.

In this episode, she follows Cas from the house, through mirrors, and reappears in a dark pond to grab at the mother and child Sam had already saved from John Wayne Gacy (yeah, I’ll type that one up next, but let’s finish this first...). So there’s a being now watching Cas from the depths of a dark pool, waiting to reach up and grab him when he finally feels safe. Sounds like… the Shadow.

So on to Sam vs Clowns. Sam’s direct parallel is the ghost of John Wayne Gacy, in clown costume, that he formerly burned in 14.13. In an episode where he was about to come face to face with his own past in the form of John Winchester suddenly appearing in the bunker, torn from the past. It’s an episode where Sam and Dean find peace with who they’ve become, and lay a ghost of their past to rest.

With the Equalizer wound humming along, affecting Sam in mysterious ways we’ve only begun to glimpse, and Sam’s brief flash of himself with black eyes apparently hurting Dean, it’s hard NOT to think of the parallel that Clowns have always held for Sam-- Lucifer. Heck I’ve written about that recently, or at least it feels like I have… but at the end of this episode, Sam stops and looks Gacy in the face and tells him to shut up. Which is something Sam has ALSO said to Lucifer (or at least a hallucination of Lucifer). The infamous “HE SAID SHUT UP TO ME!” of Hallucifer in 7.15, which ended Sam’s ability to shut out the hallucination by squeezing the cut on his hand.

Now on to Dean’s parallel ghost: Constance Welch, aka the Woman in White from 1.01. A woman who was the first ghost of the entire series, who Sam literally drove into her house to “take her home,” where she had to face what she’d done to her own children. She’d killed her own children in a moment of grief after her husband cheated on her, and then killed herself.

Dean had been moments from killing Jack in 14.20, in a moment of grief, but didn’t. Yet he’s now having some serious issues with Cas throughout this episode and by the end, they’re “frosty.”

Belphegor, with Dean, looks for a human heart to use in their spell, and stumble across one of Constance’s victims. Belphegor rips out his heart and holds it up to Dean, when Constance appears. She recognizes Dean from 1.01, who made her go home, and attacks him. Then tries to attack Belphegor, and actually injures his hand.

But this is the ghost Dean is paired with. He drives her off, and Belphegor does the spell to contain the ghosts by putting the heart in a pile of salt.

Okay, now where was I in these notes… right… Town, where Sam and Dean play FBI, trying to stop a benzene pipeline leak. And wow, what a weird story, right? Sheriff was confused, but helped evacuate the townspeople to safety.

I think it’s interesting that this was intended to be another stopgap measure, like putting Jack in the box in 14.19, because they know this spell won’t hold forever, and they know they have no other reasonable way to fix the problem. But they can try to buy some time, and hope they’ll come up with a better solution before things go sideways.

Dean asks Cas to help Belphegor do the spell thing, but Cas refuses, and goes to work with Sam instead, leaving Dean to deal with the demon possessing Jack. Which leads to all sorts of interesting conversations between them… I think I’ve written and/or reblogged enough posts on the queer subtext… er… text even… of these scenes to just point out here that it exists, and is heavy.

Meanwhile Cas and Sam go house to house looking for people they need to evacuate, and encounter the above ^^ ghosts.

So Dean’s stuck with the demon fanboy who admires what Dean did in Hell, and Dean seems pretty uncomfortable about this, but it’s not like he has a choice, you know? Who else is gonna do this? Cas couldn’t, Sam’s already on the other gig, and that leaves Dean. So… instead of denying what he’d done, he brushed it off as “a long time ago.” And then actually asked what the situation in Hell was like. The answer Belphegor gave is… interesting.

Belphegor: You ever seen an ant hill when it's, like, set on fire? [lol no, according to Dean’s wtf face] Okay, well, there we were, minding our own business, you know, flaying people for eternity, like you do, right? And then every door in Hell just sprang open all at once. You know? Souls got out. Sky cracked. And, uh, boom, ta-da, you know?

So all the gates are open, including the Cage, but Michael’s apparently still just sitting there. Which is worrisome. But my question is, if all the gates are open, yet the entire planet isn’t flooding with demons and souls, ONLY through the direct portal into that graveyard, how can what Belphegor said be true? At least, theoretically… But that’s a question for another day, when we have more canon to understand.

So… Dean has to face Constance, who flings him into a dumpster. Which makes me lol think about 1.01 and Dean flinging himself off a bridge to get away from her, and ended up covered in mud.

Cas’s “It’s one ghost,” *two more ghosts appear* “It’s three.” reminded me of “I got this,” “I don’t got this.”

Sam accidentally shooting Cas because the ghost got between the two of them horrifyingly reminds me of 12.17 and Eileen accidentally shooting Mr. Top of his Class at Kendricks when Dagon deliberately came between the two of them. At least Cas is salt-proof, you know?

Belphegor calling out Bad Ghost! kinda reminds me of Dean’s “Here ghostie ghostie ghostie” from 4.13. But REALLY. A demon, who tortures souls for fun and profit, yet can’t do anything more than weakly scold a ghost like a misbehaving puppy? INTERESTING. Because it’s Dean that has to whack her with a metal rod, while Belphegor ends up with deep gouges in his hand that are clearly causing him pain.

Dean hurls the name Casper at Constance before he whacks her, which is also a callback to 1.01. It was Sam who called him out for shooting at her with regular bullets: “What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?” Lol that he remembered that.

Sam pulled a “I’ll hold them off, I’ll hold them all off” hopeless move when he sent Cas away, like Cas once did in 4.22 when he sent Dean away to stop Sam… but Sam actually got out in one piece, even though his gun was empty.

Sam picks up the little girl and runs as fast as he can and only looks back once he’s outside and safe. Like “take your brother outside as fast as you can and don’t look back”

I already wrote about the callback of Dean distracting Sam from tending to his wound with the cut-off joke, reminding me of the scene in 4.09 of Sam doing something similar while fixing Dean’s dislocated shoulder.

And then we have the realization that they’ve never really had free will, just limited choices because of the circumstances Chuck put them in. Sam is unrealistically optimistic that it means that Chuck’s actually gone, now. But that’s the hope he’s holding on to in order to get through this horror.

So this… is what they’re setting up as the guidemap to the series finale. Specifically, Sam and Dean must finally earn their way free. The ghostpocalypse is just step one, and not the true end. There’s still Heaven and Hell to deal with (though Heaven is mostly empty of angels and Hell seems to be actively crumbling now). And Michael, whenever he gets around to walking out of the cage. I’m sure that will go great! Unhinged archangel on the loose! But those are all minor distractions compared with Chuck, because he hasn’t really gone anywhere.

And we still don’t know what Actual Jack, Billie, and the Shadow are up to in the Empty, in their secret meeting in a realm that Chuck has no power. And what about Amara? How does she feel about this now that she’s grown fond of creation? I think there’s a much bigger game afoot than just a ghostpocalypse.

Meanwhile, Sam’s quote here is still setting up the final scene of the series: When we win this, God's gone. Hm. There's no one to screw with us. There's no more maze. It's just us. And we're free.

That’s the goal.

#spn s15 spoilers #spn 15.01

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age-sliding-flug · 5 years

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FAQ/Q&A

Figured I outta do this, just so everyone knows my pronouns/so I can answer some questions in advance.

PERSONAL QUESTIONS

Q: What are your pronouns? A: He/Him, please.

Q: What’s your name? A: Harrison [REDACTED], but y’all can call me Harry :3

Q: How old are you? A: [REDACTED] (Not comfortable with sharing, but I am 18+)

Q: How long have you been writing? A: 6+ years; pretty much all fanfiction. Working on a few original projects, but I’ll probably never share them here.

Q: Why so secretive? A: I hate to admit it, but age-sliding isn’t exactly well received by most folks, as most people associate mental regression with DDLG/CGL sexual play, which is... problematic, to say the least. Also, I’m very shy. (I swear to fuck if any of you send my series to Alan, I will fucking kill you. I would die of embarrassment.)

Q: Is Harry even your real name? A: No, it’s not my most preferred name. I’m a trans guy, so I’m already coming up with a new name for myself; thought I’d experiment with one I liked on here, even if I already pretty much have my new name figured out. (And no, it’s not Harry as in Harry Potter, it’s Harry as in Harry Dresden from The Dresden Files)

Q: Do you age-slide? What even IS age-sliding? A: Yes, I do indeed age-slide, but it’s not as often as it used to be for me; a lot of this series is me low-key coping with my age-sliding issues. As for what age-sliding is, age-sliding is when someone- typically an adult/older teenager- will mentally regress. More often than not, this is due to trauma from the age-slider’s youth (such is the case with me), and is the mind’s attempt to return to what was perceived to be a simpler/safer time. It’s different for everyone, and can be on different levels of manageable/difficult to deal with.

Q: Why is your AO3 username BottomDeathstroke if you’ve only written Villainous fics on there? A: That account was never intended to be for this series- which wasn’t planned to even be a series to begin with- and was intended to be a place for me to write and post NSFW/unrelated mental regression DCU fanfiction (starring Deathstroke usually, because I love him). Once this series is done, I’ll probably post that sort of content on there, but for now Villainous has taken over my life.

Q: What’s your main account? Both on AO3 and Tumblr? A: [REDACTED] and [REDACTED]

Q: What did you think of Villainous’ pilot? A: I absolutely loved it! I actually wrote an alternate ending fic for it set in the AU, which you can check out here! The pilot is very good, please watch it on YouTube and support the people behind it!

Q: Are you okay with getting asks/questions/prompts? A: Absolutely! I’m always happy to answer people’s questions; whether they’re about age-sliding, the series, or just from a few curious anons!

Q: Can people do fanart? A: YES!!! A thousands times yes!!! Gosh, that would absolutely make my day! If you do any fanart, please either send me a link/submit it to me and I’ll make sure to check it out/post it on this blog! If you want to be labeled as anonymous through a submission, please let me know so that I can list you as such!

FIC/SERIES QUESTIONS

Q: Did any other fics inspire this one? A: Yes! “Spare the Rod and Spoil the Scientist” on AO3 by yucky was a HUGE inspiration for this series. I know they haven’t updated in awhile, but the fic in general is very good, and definitely has some elements that I really like! Please check it out if you can, and send the author your support!

Q: What made you start writing this fic series? A: TBH, I dunno. I had just moved to [REDACTED] at the time I started, and was feeling incredibly lonely (I also was just getting over 1+ year’s worth of writer’s block). I only intended the first fic to be a one off sorta deal, but to my surprise, people seemed to actually like it, so that gave me the courage to keep going and, well... I got thinking about the rules of this AU’s universe/added the Heroic Crew, and from there everything spiraled out of control.

Q: Where can I find your fic series? A: I plan on posting full descriptions/links on this blog at some point, but for now, here’s a link to my AO3 profile: BottomDeathstroke.

Q: How old is everyone in the fic series? A: Okay, lemme list the ages from oldest to youngest: Black Hat: 1000+ White Hat: 1000+ Clemencia: 32 Demencia: 31 Slug: 22 Flug: 18 505: 2 606: 2

Q: Is this series going to go on forever or is there a planned ending? A: All too often I see age-sliding/mental regression fics go on for a bit, only to suddenly stop updating, which is pretty disappointing tbh. I do plan on having a big finale (that’s gonna be one hell of an emotional roller-coaster), but that’s not for quite awhile, as I want to fulfill all my planned fics (Flug confronting his mom, talking about where tf Slug and Flug’s dad went, Black Hat and White Hat origins, Clemencia and Demencia babysitting, winter holiday special, Halloween special, Black Hat teaching Flug to play the piano, etc) as well as do a few requests/ideas for the readers.

Q: What’s the ending gonna be? A: ;3

Q: Why is Flug trans? A: Because I’m trans and projecting, next question.

Q: Any other LGBT+ headcanons for the cast? A: Uuuuuuuuuh, Clemencia’s a lesbian, Demencia and Black Hat are bi af, White Hat is pan, Slug is gay and in the closet, Flug and BH are both trans but handle it in very different ways, and 505 and 606 are... bears. Yeah. I also see Flug as ace, so there’s that. The projection is strong with him.

Q: How old are Black Hat and White EXACTLY? A: Fuck if I know. They’re supposed to be from the very dawn of man, but the few times I’ve mentioned their ages during different time periods, I’ve realized how much I’ve fucked myself over doing that. Does it really matter? Probably not, but I like to be organized and flesh out the universe, so I’m dying, y’all.

Q: Why so much world building? A: I dunno, it’s just the way I am. I like a precise set of rules within my stories, and I like to delve into the politics of that story out of sheer curiosity. Besides, I’ve always been a huge superhero/supervillain fan, so getting into how those professions would actually WORK in a developed universe is fun for me!

Q: Has canon content ruined anything for you? A: Not really, but it’s changed my theories for people quite a bit (particularly for BH’s origins and Flug’s backstory). I’ll admit, there are certain things that I sometimes wish I had done differently, if only to fit my current theories for where the series is heading. But I don’t regret the headcanons I used for this series, and I’m gonna stick to them throughout, even if I don’t believe all of them are true anymore! (Y’all can take trans Flug from my cold, head fucking hands, tho.)

Q: Why are you writing a Heroic backstory fic if they’re not even canon characters? A: First of all, they’re canon in my heart. Second of all, I just thought it would be fun to write, and it definitely has been! Writing it has been interesting to say the least (and an important lesson on why long WIPs are a bad idea for me, rip), but I don’t regret it, and I’m proud of how it’s going so far! Still, definitely looking forward to getting back to our villainous favorites.

Q: When ARE you getting back to the Villainous characters? A: Soon, I promise. In the meantime, I DID write a fic with them in it recently,. Which, again, you can check out over here, as it’s an alternate ending rewrite for the pilot episode. But yeah, they’ll be back soon, I just want to finish “Taming a Stray” first.

I think that’s it for now! Lemme know if you guys have anymore questions that need answering, and I’ll be sure to add them to this post (or answer separately)! Have a good day!

#q&a #questions and answers #harry speaks #please check this out if you can!#black hat tries to be nice #taming a stray

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vcloudbreaker · 6 years

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Writing Challenge: How did your muse meet some of the people in their lives?

Original Prompt here: https://saephoraembersky-wra.tumblr.com/post/179339498313

When I first got tagged for this, I picked Lesti’s husband, Xaereth, for the first of three characters I figured I’d write this out for. (Post there still to come!) The list of other possibilities ended up consisting MOSTLY of Blood Knights. When I started considering which two were “most important” and “most developed Lesti” I got bad feels about it. Then Lesti decided to make it semi-relevant to current RP and grabbed the keyboard and this happened.

Lesti’s been around WRA for 5 years now, and in that time MANY of the Blood Knight characters on this realm have helped shaped her character. We didn’t always get along (might be fair to say I didn’t like some of you and you didn’t like me on an OOC level, ever) and things weren’t always great. Still, I want y’all to know that Lesti wouldn’t be who she is today without each and every one of you, and I want to thank everyone for all the awesome RP through the years. (even if lesti’s IC opinion still isn’t glowing)

Tagging every tumblr for everyone I can find, mentioned below -- feel free to do the prompt yourselves for the originally intended sensible amount of characters and tag some other folks. WRA isn’t a perfect home, but it’s home and all we’ve got is each other.

Tagged By: @adilynia (your tags are always awesome ilu)

Tagging for mentions and for the prompt: @housetyrellian for Arth and Jaira, @bloodhawkrising , @jaypyreanor , @zanpyreanor , @drimmari , @azkariel , @mourne , @solarine , @talaenwildthorn-blog , @shakesthesun , @inathia , @raynellalaria , @hylaudius , @analyse-bloodwing , @trollydruid , @sworntothesun , @valorandvictory , @seekingthedawn , @bamsilverheart , @denlandis @catraena-blazewing

He'd put her in bed.

Valestia stared through the curtains that separated their bedroom from the balcony and her husband's back. He'd removed his armor, at some point, but his clothes hung unfastened on his body, bedshirt ruffling in the early morning breeze. He stood arms behind his back, legs set apart; rigidity had long since settled into his shoulders.

She wanted nothing more than to go to him and ease it from him. It wasn't what she needed to do. She went silently, his cloak still gathered about her shoulders. It wouldn't buy her much time before his notice, but it would be enough.

Ladyqueen and Nana lay sprawled across the nursery floor, as was their wont. She stepped carefully between tiger and hound, passing them only because they were accustomed to her presence. Elendae’s nightgown wasn't fastened correctly, but she could hardly fault Xaereth for his valiant attempt. Smiling fondly, she reached in and lifted the toddler from her cradle, hoisting her up against her shoulder before making her way downstairs.

The girl was awake by the time they came to the kitchen and dining, and Lesti picked her way across the floor to set her in a chair with a few rolls of harvest spice apple-pumpkin fruit leather and a glass of sweetened goat's milk.

“Shh, darling,” she instructed gently, brushing aside soft curls to press a kiss to the child's brow.

That done, she turned her attention to the first part of her task. Unlimbered of her platemail armor, the currents of creation flowed unhindered through her veins. Shards of clay and glass and bent scraps of metal floated free of the floor, churning like a slow cyclone overhead until they came to rest atop one of the tables. The tablecloth fluttered, wrapping snugly around them.

She stared several long moments at the heaping bundle ready to spill off one side of the table or another. The image of the precariously confined disaster was not lost on her. At least it was for the moment contained.

Candles next. She dug out every box she had of every shape. She needed as many, she imagined. They were piled haphazardly atop the table in front of Elendae in short order. She climbed up on top of it, after, letting Xaereth’s cloak slip to pool about her as she knelt there. She gathered up a candle, snapped her fingers to light it.

It was Xaereth, who had taught her to look at the Blood Knight Order as anything other than an abomination. It was through him she began to truly get to know them, one by one. Beginning with…

“Lilendae,” she whispered hoarsely, causing Elendae to look up in confusion. She was Xaereth’s student, taken under his wing when they were in Venris Cinderblood’s guard, together. They had grown so close he had adopted the young Adept. They had all been, terribly close, until she disappeared. It was a loss that still haunted them both.

“I pray...that somewhere...out there...the Light guides you home.”

She tipped the candle to one side, let the wax pool on the table, used it to anchor the candle upright. Another candle, next.

“Jidai.”

She had known him through Lilendae. They two had been... close. Fond of one another, if she recalled correctly. She remembered him as a cheerful, upbeat sort.

“I pray...that you have grown strong in the Light, and that you are happy, with someone. She would want that.”

“Justicar Centari.”

He was a friend of her mother’s. Prominent, by her telling, but as oft delinquent as inspiring. He was impossibly jovial and carefree in his connection to the Light.

“I pray one day you blind us all with true Radiance.”

“Justicar Sunfury.”

Her father’s best friend, before her father had turned on Venris Cinderblood. Exian Sunfury had a resoundingly intimidating reputation, but by the time she had met him, the jaded Champion had lost his fiery convictions and was little more than a lamentor of glories lost.

“I pray… you walk into a fate you can accept with a glad heart.”

“Vemair…”

She shook. This was the first.

Anger can only fuel a flame for so long.

But Drimmari Dra’zar had no idea how long her flames could burn.

Vemair had kidnapped her sister, Laryana, for Venris Cinderblood, twice, to bait her father into traps intended to kill him. She HATED the Knight-Master. She could still put a hole in his chest without a twinge of guilt.

“I pray...”

That the Light has more mercy than I will.

“I pray…”

One Order, one body, one mission, one heart.

Aeliana…

“I pray that hatred releases your heart- and that I might be free of hating you.”

It felt hollow. It tasted of ash. Still, at least it was said. She had to say it, if she couldn’t yet think or believe it. She at least had to say it.

“Aeliana.”

Aeliana Malevus. The name still wrenched her heart. She met the Knight Master when the other woman got between her and Lucius Bloodraven, during a gathering in the Hall. It was nearly a bloodbath. She still believed that only Aeliana’s love for every knight in the room had spared them a fate to sully the entire hall.

They were instant and fast friends. She was the first Valestia had called “Sister.” She might have loved her more than those born to her. Aeliana spoke with her on the Light late hours into the night, conspired with her to heal the Order of its festering wounds, introduced her to dancing…

Aeliana, like Lilendae, had disappeared. She had been speaking of a covert mission, at the time.

“I pray you’re well and happy, and that one day I’ll manage to live up to your example-- sister.”

“-Lucius.-”

She could not keep the weight from her voice. There was too long and conflicted a history between her and Lord Bloodraven. She met him when he called conference in the Hall of Blood. It was the first of several he would stage in his vain attempts to wrest control of the Order. They began at one another’s throats, climbing to a conflict that ended nearly in blood before their war grew cold and civil. Her cursed scrupulous nature had even see her free him from behind bars for a crime of which he was accused-- framed, she’d discovered. He had claimed to turn a new leaf, after that, but she watched him hurt those who loved him and abandon those who cast their hopes on him, one after the other.

“I pray you found a true path to redemption.”

She would not be holding her breath, for that. But Lucius Bloodraven had consequently brought many knights of the Hall into her life.

“Master Alah’zaram.”

Another zealot who had stood alongside her and Aeliana, during their initial conflict with Lucius. Few knights had inspired her so, before or since. He was unwavering in his convictions, determined in his leadership. He had helped her and others who joined the Order after the Sunwell’s rebirth to settle into the ranks and take heart in their differences. She owed him a great deal, however much she had to admit his uncompromising nature did not always do her favors, in example.

That nature had taken him from them, too.

“I pray you’ve found a brotherhood and purpose that does not disappoint you.”

Her mind spun, calling back the events of the previous year. She looked on the Knight Master’s example, and saw her own actions in new, ugly light.

“Arthamir,” she hissed quickly, soldiering on before she lost her nerve for more introspection.

It was the night the Hall had nearly massacred itself, five years ago, now. Arthamir was on the opposite side of the room, then. He was an officer, if not second in command, to Lucius Bloodraven. But Arthamir had a level head, too level to follow Lucius down his destructive spiral for long. He was always proactive in the community and in the Order, almost always present. It was a horrible to watch him dance the line between soldier and politician, especially as honest a man as he was-- as he could be, for a politician. She found him the most agreeable officer to deal with, when she had to, and mutual respect had grown between them as they both worked in their own ways for the good of the order. The Champion was now the only officer she would address by his right rank.

“I pray your life is both long and satisfied-- I doubt you can see such a fate for yourself. And I pray the Light keeps you safe. I don’t know what I’d do without your guidance, sometimes, old man.”

She gave the flame of the candle a long look before nestling it amongst the growing cluster in the center of the table.

“Aervin.”

Arthamir’s wife. They had met few times, over the years. Aervin kept largely to their family holdings, especially since she had started producing heirs to Arthamir’s house. It was just as well. They seldom got along. Aervin was one of the few knights Lesti had ACTUALLY come to blows with, over the years. Still…

“I hope your children lead long and -happy- lives, Lady Tyrellian. May the Light bless them and the lands their inherit.”

She smiled as she set the candle, then sighed as she plucked and lit the next.

“Jaira…”

Arthamir’s daughter, taken in much the same way Xaereth had taken in his Lilendae. She had probably first met her while hosting other knights for dinner in the Fairbreeze in. She got to know her as a student under her instruction. Jaira was a fine study and a fine knight, when she was not testing her limits.

“I pray your heart finds contentment in your service to your people and your family, Jaira.” She said it, and wished it, earnestly.

“Jadoth.”

She met him perhaps the same night she met Jaira. Learning of his constantly precarious position in the Order, and seeing how desperately he seemed to need it, she had made it her mission to help. He only needed someone to believe in him. She had believed that for a long time; and believed in him through all the wrongs committed against him, all the wrongs against their realm and their world that chipped away at his heart, and all the wrongs he had himself committed.

One mistake. She had made only ONE mistake, but it was enough to earn his ire, and at last she understood. She learned, as others would have to, for themselves, what others had tried for years to make her see. She could not help him. It didn't stop her from wishing, every time she saw him, that she could.

“I pray that one day, you learn to -truly- let the Light fill the endless vacuum in your heart.”

She couldn't think of one without the other.

“Jayir.”

Jay Pyreanor was at the time Jadoth’s best friend. Another of her students. A better study but too easily influenced to think of himself as an outsider and misbehave by his friend. Jayir had been ever-present but avoidant, and she feared she had never put enough effort into understanding him with Jadoth absorbing her focus.

“I pray the Light has given you confidence your gifts and abilities, and in yourself.”

“Zan.”

They were too alike, she and Rerservist Zandrae Pyreanor- Champion, when someone else needed him to be. He was uncle or cousin to Jayir- she distractedly wondered if she’d ever bothered to ask- and often in the orbit of observing or aiding in her lessons with the Initiates and Adepts.

He had a gentle hand with the students but was outspoken towards officers- like she was. He could spend hours patiently listening- like she could. He could flare in righteous indignation and charge blind and furious to the defense of others or his own convictions- like she could. He could condemn and spurn, when those convictions were set- like she could.

They had inevitably gone up and down a rollercoaster of good times and bad between them, their convictions and inclinations to take “mother bear” stands in the face of what they perceived to be injustice led them to sometimes crash headlong against one another like Alterac rams.

He was, she was sure, still offended on Jadoth’s behalf.

“I pray the Light grants us both more patience, wisdom, and understanding; with each other, those around us, and ourselves.”

She needed those things, probably more than he did, at the moment. She had constantly told herself as much, over the years, unless she was angry. A stubborn and purposeful misstep- that was when she most needed them.

She closed her eyes a few moments, let the perpetual storm pounding in her head wash over her, mind and soul. Now was as good a time as any.

“Dr-mari…”

Not Dra’zar. Not today.

He had wanted to HELP. She was coming off too many bad experiences with the other officers when they met. From the beginning, she had gotten off on the wrong foot with him.

He was patient, and not rebuffed. He learned her troubles and reasons, and she learned his. They were quickly friends. He was always available, when she needed him. She had on turn helped him save his child.

He had a soft spot for children. She looked over her shoulder at the once-more slumbering toddler. He had loved Elendae from the start-- not that there was anyone who seemed immune to the child’s contagious charms-- and the more she grew, the more she seemed to love him back. It was a more potent rebuff of Valestia’s temper than any the rest.

The candle snapped. She gave a start. Even the soft click of the wax giving was loud in the still morning. Light, but she was still angry. She started to set the broken pieces aside for another, but the flame yet flickering caught her eye. She found herself instead rolling the wax between her hands, softening it between the warmth of Light-blessed palms until it melted enough to come back together, if imperfectly. She nestled it next to Jadoth’s before it could take anymore punishment.

“Mother Moon,” she breathed with solemn desperation. “Grant us your grace.”

She fought the compulsion to strategize in her next choice, but chose him to avoid thinking on it further.

“Azkariel.”

She stared through the flame on the candle she lit for him, at Drimmari’s beyond.

Forgive me for heaping his faults on your shoulders.

Azkariel was exactly what she thought she needed at the time she met him. Someone who didn't need to be taught to handle himself on the battlefield. A veteran of the Northern War. A solid set of shoulders on which to lay their missions during the war against the Legion. It was too bad he thought as much of himself.

Azkariel was, she learned, impatient and power hungry and resentful of others’ recognition. More and more she got the sense that he thought he could do her job better than she could. She would not give him the chance.

But you did. I was like that, once. I pray you have been better repaid for it than I have over the years.

“I pray that the Light teaches you humility and the value in SERVICE.”

It was not criticism. She let him poison her heart with his own resentment enough to know that he would never be happy until he could change.

“Caci…”

Azkariel’s “student”. Lover, it turned out. She had done her best to receive and instruct the girl as if she were there for the right reasons. She believed she had a good heart. She regretted letting her go, most of all.

“I pray you have found someone to make your talents shine.”

“Terrestre.”

He had found them in the wilds, during the Legion’s invasions. He had heard word of them in the vicinity, and was determined to make himself useful. He was not particularly personable, and she was sure in hindsight that he deserved more notice than she had given him.

“I pray your valiance found good application. Lights grace and safe travels, Blood Knight.”

“Mourne.”

She had known him only the five years she'd known most the Order, but it felt like she'd known the Champion all her life. She couldn't even recall the exact moment she'd first seen him- though she had the strangest image in her mind that he'd been wearing a pink gown.

He was almost immediately one of her best friends. It seemed like they went everywhere and did everything together. Others had assumed they were married more than once- to both their horror.

They had grown apart, during the Legion’s invasions. It was her fault. She knew that. She would mend it.

“I pray you and Zozha are blessed in your union.”

“Solarine...Talaen, Lacryma.”

She lit and nestled two candles, held a third.

They were close to Mourne. Like Mourne and like her, they were priests before they were Blood Knights-- Shadow priests. They were a loose sort of circle, they five, in her mind. They knew one another, as others did not. They sensed things, when others did not. They could call on one another, when they could call on no one else. She did not often know where they all were, anymore, but she had a strange sort of constant confidence in them.

“I pray we all maintain The Balance.”

“Julian.”

Lucius had pulled Champion Julian Sunrest into her life. She could hardly say she thought much of his conduct or views, but battle against the powers of the Void had forged their relationship, and there were few Champions of the Order Valestia respected more for living up to their rank on the field. He would always be brother to her, whether or not she was always happy with the fact. There was only…

“I pray the Light keeps you on the right side of The War.”

“Nightsorrow,”

She didn't know the Knightlord outside of a few interactions, but few in the Order had inspired more confidence in herself. Nightsorrow saw progress in her. He had -threatened- to promote her, more than once.

He had seen little of her, but she suspected he knew her. The easy-going officer had a keen way of making her practice intense introspection with the lightest comments. She knew that even if she never saw him again, she would have much to credit him with, throughout her life.

“I pray the Light long continues to work through you to inspire others.”

“Forgefury.”

Her voice didn't shake. It was, perhaps, the first time she could say as much. The first night she met the Knight Lord, he was threatening to roll heads, and she had put herself in his path. She still felt the chill of that moment sometimes, and knew well what force had passed her by.

It hadn't taken long, however, to understand him. Veteran of the order. Jaded by the fate of their people. A survivor, desperate not to see the Order’s successors inherit any weakness. She hoped she had convinced him of the tenacity in the newer knights’ own brand of strength.

“I pray the Light heals your scars.”

“Ina’thia.”

They were alike in ways she and Zandrae were not. Looking at Knight-Lord Ina’thia Dawnblade was like looking at a prophecy incarnate. The mirror image was to be anticipated and feared.

Ina’thia was scrupulous. She had known her from the start. They two were sometimes nearly friends, sharing meals and speaking for hours together- and sometimes nearly nemeses, standing on opposite sides of disagreements that threatened violence. They usually tried to avoid both.

The two danced around the middle when it came to interacting with each other, keeping as close to a curt working relationship as possible as often as possible.

I wish I could trust you.

…

But I -will not BE you.-

“I pray you find true happiness. Someday.”

“A’laria.”

They called her Champion, sometimes, captain others. Whatever her actual title, Valestia had always almost exclusively known Raynell A’laria as “champion” of Ina’thia’s cause. Wherever the Knight-Lord appeared, Raynell always seemed to be in close proximity, if not at her heels.

Unlike the careful dance between her and Ina’thia, Valestia and Raynell had always had a relationship of casual but open rancor. A’laria was disdainful of the newer rank and file knights, sometimes threatening, sometimes more than threatening.

There was no faith in that one- lost, broken, or otherwise. There was no grim protectiveness some of the older knights like Xaereth, Drimmari, and Hylaudius exhibited. There was only vengeance. Valestia couldn't say she minded that A’laria’s focus was usually on shadowing Ina’thia.

“I pray the Light touches your life and your heart.”

“Dorennen,”

Another of Ina'thia's Phoenix Guard, Hylaudius Dorennen had been a fixture -- almost literally-- at the door of the Hall, since Valestia had been there. Not like the slackers or the goofs, or those who were looking to be available for even the most trivial of matters, like herself. Dorennen had always been there, to act when it -mattered.-

On hand for anything from cats up trees to trauma healing, in was inevitable that Valestia found herself often interacting with the Knight Master. He was seldom pleasant or agreeable, but he was honest with his evaluations. He'd come to remind her of her own father, in his conduct and service to his people.

He was gone. Lost in the war against the Legion.

“I pray… we who succeed you see the value of the dedication those like you gave us all in your service.”

“Ana.”

Analyse Emberbloom was Ina'thia's knight on one hand, led astray by Bloodraven on the other. Somehow between the two and the trouble that brought her, she and Lesti had become fast friends, if briefly.

Ana had seemingly withdrawn from the Order and indeed the public after a personal tragedy. She was well enough perhaps last they spoke, but Valestia knew how easily knights found a brave face.

“I pray the Light gives you comfort, sister.”

“Ele’nath.”

Taneisha Ele’nath had started out taking an interest in Valestia’s healing instruction for her students. The sister knight had come to learn and assist by turns, and to work alongside her when actual need arose.

She'd asked Valestia to become her teacher, once upon a time.

She hadn't seen her, since Draenor. She hoped fervently that she was alright.

“I pray the Light continues to guide your heart and your healing hands.”

Ele’nath had been close, if briefly, to one of her students. Valestia swallowed a lump in her throat.

“Farstrider.”

Ratheras Farstrider, a.k.a. Cascade Lightstrider. Xaereth often told her she belittled the progress he’d made, towards the end, when she called him by his born and inconveniently unoriginal surname. She couldn't help it. She still heard herself scream his name in agitation every time she thought of him.

A grin came unbidden to lift the corners of her lips.

She and Mourne had taken some of the students to Tanaris for “social skills” training. Laughable to some of the officers, she was sure, but to her mind you couldn't make a real defender of the people out of someone who was not for all intents and purposes, one of them. They had met Farstrider there.

He was a bumbling, naked drunk who accosted her and Jaira, of all people. Mourne had sent them away, in a rare show of seriousness and his temper, to leave him to deal with the bum. She had not expected him to turn up with the elf at the Hall of Blood.

Ratheras Farstrider was a former Knight Master who had fallen into despondence after losing the squad under the command of his Champion teacher to the Champion’s overconfidence. Mourne had convinced him to try and redeem himself and resume his service as an initiate. He asked Lesti to let him participate in the students’ lessons.

She had quickly found pity and understanding for his predicament, and soon asked Mourne to give him to her as her student. Farstrider had taken it too quickly and too thoroughly to heart. He was brash, defiant, and often delinquent, but he was thoroughly hers.

He was the only reason she had survived the initial invasion of Draenor, and for several months afterwards. The horrible fate that had befallen him when they returned home- when they should have been safe- continued to haunt her.

“I-I…” tears slid slowly down her face. “I pray… I live up to the faith you placed in me, someday.”

“Sillienth…”

WHY did the name even come to mind? Valestia's pulse pounded in her ears, and it seemed as if she could see her blood coursing in her vision, behind her eyes. Her tears tried in the face of hot fury, fresh as the first day.

Traitor…

Sillienth Goldenmist was one of the first knights Valestia met, and a close friend of her adopted daughter, Naatsu. Both elves had treated her as their mother, and Valestia had loved them both as a mother might. But in the end, Sillienth had literally betrayed Thalassian, Horde forces to an Alliance ambush. There had been casualties. Xaereth was supposed to have been there. If Valestia hadn't…

She didn't even WANT to wish it, she wasn't ready to let it go, herself, yet.

“Light forgive you.” she choked out.

“Althrin,”

Althrin Santhil. She had not said the name, in some time. He was one of her first friends in the Order, and they had quickly worked together on several matters.

But then, his pursuit of Lucius Bloodraven's corrupt conduct, he'd been awarded the rank of Champion. She saw him change, immediately. She could still hear her own voice in her ears.

“This is what you wanted- all along! This is ALL it was about! I hope you enjoy the new company you keep, -Champion.-”

She did not think she had ever spoken to him again, after that. Her eyes strayed past Althrin's candle to Drimmari's.

I don't want this, again.

“I wish I had given you more time...patience. I pray the Light and your station lead you to great things in service to our people.”

“Nestarion,”

More of the same.

WHY do I DO this?

She had been convinced Nestarion Sunsworn was good for the Order, when they first met. She had been ready to jump to his aid, any time there was the slightest need- even if sometimes she'd been as much trouble as help to him.

He had disappointed her expectations. She didn't even remember how it had happened, now. She had not extended him the forgiveness he had extended her for her own mistakes. She didn't even remember if she'd had the decency to tell him she was angry. The cold shoulder was her go to, after all.

I'll do better than this.

Now, all she hoped was that wherever he was, he was safe.

“You went through...so much. I pray that you'll have more happiness and less hardship in the future, than you did, then.”

“Arai. Thyrus.”

The brothers Sunshield. She had not known them well. Arai was secluding to Pandaria by the time she met him, and Thyrus…

He had managed, however brief their interactions, to impact her.

“I read your report. As far as I'm concerned, YOU'RE as MUCH to blame for this, as HE is! I'd roll your head, were it up to me.”

It had made her re-examine the matter that had been at hand, again and again, until she was satisfied it was resolved in an unsatisfactory but correct way; and it had made her that much more thorough in her considerations, over the years- however short sighted they might still be. At least she was never satisfied with them, easily, anymore.

“I pray the Light and your families serve and guide your noble hearts and strong hands well.

“Dawnsword.”

He was positively contagious. He didn't seem to hold anyone -save the Alliance, of late- in contempt. He was bright, faithful, unstoppable.

Like so many knights, she had met him before the Hall. She recalled she'd overheard him defending his faith to another knight. They had connected instantly, and spent many hours on free nights discussing the Order, the Light, and the world's troubles. He seemed to rely on her consul, at times. She was the one inspired by him.

“I pray you and those who succeed US, and those who come AFTER YOU, are continually brighter a Light for our people and those who come after.”

“Rilserath. Latheri.”

Rilserath had come to her after Draenor, robbed of his Master on another world in another dimension. He was a good and dedicated study, a fine combatant, and possessed of a compassionate heart. She could not have asked for better, at her side from that moment until after Argus. She wasn't sure she'd ever told him that he was her pride and joy of a student. If she hadn't, it was because she credited his previous master with saving her any hard work.

Latheri was his student. He'd picked her up between the Isles and Argus, and the Initiate had been forged in Felfire and endless battle, on the Legion homeworld. She was already, Valestia suspected, more technically skilled than her teacher.

She had let the two of them have time, afterwards. In the face of the ever increasing conflict over the past couple months however - Light, had it only been THAT long?- she could not help but think it was well past time to recall them.

“May the Light preserve us, and guide us in its wisdom as we hold one another up, shoulder to shoulder.”

They were with her, but there were three she missed keenly.

“Bamerin.”

Prodigy. Bamerin was everything she had ever wanted in a student. She had taken that opportunity, she feared, to drive him too hard; and ultimately away to his own counsel.

"I pray the Light has taught you better than I managed to, Silverheart."

“Dwin'arnith.”

With the threat of the Legion looming, she had pushed them all too hard.

Denlandis Dwin'arnith was headstrong, from the start. He reminded her of Jaira, and herself. He took what he needed but accepted only his own judgement. He never understood her explanations, and she hadn't the patience then to make sure they were clear. She suspected she had let him go to his doom.

“I pray our mutual impatience did not leave you long-wounded-- and that ... you have found solace for your losses, at last.”

She-

“Would you like some privacy for this, love?’

Reflexively, started to gather the cloak up around her, in the split second before she realized the voice of course belonged to the garment's owner. Xaereth stood there when she turned her head, looking at her with understandable confusion.

Don't mind me, just setting up a shrine on top of the kitchen table.

She shook her head.

“I only had Catraena left.”

Dear, sweet Catraena. As Xaereth gathered up Elendae and settled into the chair behind her, Valestia settled back into her contemplation. It was Catraena who had delivered Elendae. She was previously a priestess who, like her, had come to the Order to do -more-. Like her, she was too easily touched, too easily wounded. But Valestia loved the Order, and she was sure that in time Catraena would too.

Perhaps she would have, if in her frenzy to confront the demons Valestia had not turned her away at her first doubt. It galled her on one hand. On the other, she HAD been too great a liability to take on the field.

“Catraena. I only pray you FOUND someone with the patience to help you through your doubts. You deserved better than you thought of yourself."

She had dreams, prayers; not just for herself, but for all these knights. This was the why. This was what she needed to remember.

#Prompt #long prompt is long #IC #RP #WRA #WOW #Valestia Cloudbreaker #Blood Knights

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