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writtingforfun · 5 months

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Prey or Prayer?

Chapter 1

None so dutiful.

Those are the words of House Hastwyck. And they are words they live by.

Like a Stark keeps his word, like a Velaryon sails the ocean, a Hastwyck is bound by duty and honor.

Lady Marisa Hastwyck was the perfect picture of the Maiden; devout, chaste and kind. Her entire life she had been prepared for marriage - her mother had made sure of that. Lady Lydia Hightower was unpleasant and highly strict about her children's upbringing, perhaps not in the best way. It was the sort of ambition that ran through Hightower blood, irrational and indifferent to anyone else’s feelings.

When Marisa was just ten, she was already made to spend two hours of the day praying to the Seven, by the time she turned twelve, she knew how to sew and embroider, by thirteen she was ready to be sold away as soon as someone wanted her.

Which is why she had been sent to the Red Keep to study under the septas of the capital. Four moons had passed since she arrived there with her father and was presented to the King. But her father had only stayed for three weeks, and she was soon left alone with only her long time handmaid, Helia.

Marisa was very intelligent, despite her mother’s disregard towards intellectual knowledge. She and her brother had always shared a passion for books and history, something that she thought would be rather important to maintain a conversation. Turns out her mother knew that the people of court were incredibly vain. The one time she brought up history, she received so many looks like she had lost her mind.

Life at court wasn’t for her, and Marisa was certain of it. But how could she disappoint her parents and beg them to leave after all the weight they put on her shoulders? Her brother had been married just the year before, at sixteen, because he was found in bed with a middle class lady. The wedding had been rushed and no one even mentioned it. Now, their honor laid fully on her, since her little sister was only ten.

Everyday, as part of her routine, she spent the nights in the library. She could slip in, unnoticed by anyone, and read as much as she wanted. And the library in the Red Keep was without a doubt the most beautiful one. History, stories, languages… Anything anyone could ever want.

This night was not any different. She picked up her book, one of the History of House Targaryen, and walked towards her usual table, somewhat secluded from the rest of the library, a book in one hand and a candle in the other.

As she made her way to the table, she was startled by the light in her seat. She was always so distracted and so sure no one would be there - after all, no one had sat there in over three moons. It was still very dark, despite the light each of them had, but she could see the outline of his body. Their eyes met and her breath caught in her throat. It was Daemon Targaryen.

“Your Grace,” Marisa quickly said, bowing at him.

He simply looked her up and down.

“My apologies, I did not know you’d be here”

His gaze fell on the book she had in her hand, “Interested in history?”

She looked down at the book and then at him, blinking rapidly, “Yes, I-” she stammered a bit and then took a breath. It was only Daemon Targaryen. “I simply believe that everyone should know the history of our kings”

Daemon chuckled at that. Someone who was not insipid, he thought. “Should you not me in your chambers, Lady…?”

“Marisa. Lady Marisa Hastwyck. I came only to fetch a book. I enjoy the library during the night, it is very quiet.”

“Uhm,” he hummed, his eyes returning to the book.

At the awkwards interaction, Marisa whispered “your grace” and excused herself, taking the book with her to her chambers. A shill ran up her spine as she remembered the indifference she saw in the Prince’s eyes. But then pity took its place. Marisa knew his reputation, but he had lost his wife and been left with two young girls. She couldn’t imagine the pain of losing someone she loved and vowed to be with for the rest of her life.

That was the very first interaction she had with the Prince, but certainly not the last.

***

The King held a five day feast for his older daughter, the heir to the throne, to celebrate her name day. The only good thing about this was that her parents were to attend.

“Quickly Helia, my parents must be arriving!”, she urged her handmaid to help her with her hair.

“Calm yourself,”

“I am calm. I just,” tears formed in her eyes, “I just miss them so much. Perhaps they’ll allow me to return home!”

Her bright smile of hope and high dreams of fantasy was only that - a fantasy. Helia looked at her with pity, for she knew that the girl’s fate - the same girl she helped raise - was to be nothing more than a broodmare. And it made her bones freeze.

Marisa stood waiting for her family with a bright smile, and as soon as saw her family’s sigil she could barely hold herself in place. How she missed seeing her brother and sister! It was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Until her mother’s rigid face looked at hers, the weight suddenly fell back on top of her. In all these moons, her mother had only written to her to ask if she had caught the eye of any men. Despite the sadness that was now filling her, Marisa decided to put it aside and hug her brother and father. All the words of kindness and happiness that parents should hold for their children were lost in her mother’s stone cold heart.

“Stand up straight!” Lady Lydia spat at her daughter who quickly lost the small smile she held.

“Ignore her,” her brother whispered in her ear, “she has been nasty since-” he laughed “since ever”

Marisa giggled at that, holding her brother’s arm. “How come your wife didn’t join you?”

“Mother didn’t think she should”

“Isn’t it more disgraceful for you to come to the capital without your wife than to show she is a commoner?”

“It should be, but I was happy she wouldn’t be subjected to hours in a carriage with mother”

Loud horns sounded and Marisa jumped frightened, holding her brother tighter. The King and Queen approached the family. They all quickly bowed to them.

“Murrel! Welcome to my court!” the King greeted his old friend.

“Your Grace, what a pleasure to return.” he turned to the Queen “My Queen, a pleasure to see you again”

“Welcome back Lord Murrel, and your family”

“Come, let us talk while your daughter talks with her mother and brother.”

As they leave, she notices the queen’s sad gaze on her. A small smile graces her lips as she walks towards them. “Lady Lydia, welcome to court. It has been a while.”

“Your grace,” she bows again, “thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course. You are friends of the crown, therefore, always welcome. Lady Marisa is a delight to have in court”

“Thank you, your grace.”

The rest of the morning was spent with her mother continuously asking questions and giving her a hard time. Even poor Helia had to listen as her Lady scolded her for not encouraging Marisa to be in court more often than hiding in her chambers or with septas. “I wonder where your father is,” she kept repeating. As Marisa looked at her family, she realized how alone she had been back home, and how alone she was now.

Upon her father’s return, he and her mother locked themselves in their chambers, leaving their two older children outside to wander as they pleased.

“Show me everything,” Tommen pleaded as they roamed the Keep. They started in the library, moved to the Tapestries and the Godswood, to lastly stand looking at the training grounds - Tommen’s favorite place.

“What do you think? Is it everything you expected?”

His eyes shined looking at the swords and armors, “more. So much more that I won’t even allow myself to wonder what mother and father are talking about”

“I would like to know,” she pouted, unsure of what it could be.

His smile vanished and he kept his eyes low, “Mar…”

“I would!” She repeats, “I have behaved well.”

“Of course you have, you always do. But mother sent you here with one goal in mind.”

“To find a husband for me.”

He nodded, and upon seeing how sad she was, he took her hand and told her to watch as they trained. Tommem explained every move as if she had interesse, as long as she forgot her fate. She hated violence, but her brother’s effort put a smile on her face.

Men cheering made them both look down to see someone walk in.

“Who is that?” Tommen asked.

The man looked up and then took his sword.

“That’s Prince Daemon Targaryen”

Let me know if you liked it, and if you want to be added to the taglist! The first chapter is different than the rest will be, it's just a little starting point. I wanted you to understand the dynamics between the Hastwyck family.

Taglist:

@marihoneywk @toxicberrie @snowtargaryen @bellstwd @pet1t3 @watercolorskyy @hypocritic-trash-baby @marvelescvpe @jasenialovesjinx @msmorningstaarr @angeliod @dornishannie @ewwwitsel @billyloomiswife827289301

#daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon #fanfiction #daemon targaryen x you #hotd #daemon targaryen imagine #prey or prayer

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mirpuzzle · 13 days

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I've been really curious about this, who are your top ten Yu-Gi-Oh characters?

Hello! 🌷 Usually, I only have a few favorites. So, aside from the first three, the rest is constantly changing. I'll try to put them in order (all under the cut).

♡. 10 ── Carly Nagisa (5Ds)

What's not to love about her? She's funny, pretty, and a complete mess of a person. She gets in all sorts of trouble, all because she's trying to make a living. I like it when she gets screen time.

♡. 9 ── Noa Kaiba (DM)

He was my favorite as a kid, so I still have a special place in my heart for him. His story made me cry. He did not deserve that. He only wanted others to understand him. You're valid, Noa.

♡. 8 ── Yusei Fudo (5Ds)

It's rare for me to favor a protagonist. That's how you know he's good. This man is a blessing to Yugioh. He has a natural charisma that's impossible to ignore. He's perfect.

♡. 7 ── Bandit Keith (DM)

...I think. I have mixed feelings toward him. I don't even know why he's on this list. I keep going to him in games where Kotsuzuka is not there. So, that must mean I like him, right? I'm confused.

Cross Duel showed me he can be really nice to you if you help him win. I appreciate how he helps other duelists fortify their decks, using the themes they originally had instead of giving them a completely new deck. He cares.

While there's no excuse for what he did to Kotsuzuka and the boys, the fact that, behind that 'bad guy' front, there's a sad, broken man makes me feel bad for him. He deserves to heal.

♡. 6 ── Ryou Bakura (DM)

The anime doesn't do him justice. The more I learn about him through other fans and Duel Links, the more I like him. He's a precious cream puff who likes spooky stuff and is treated terribly by almost everyone. He deserves better (friends).

♡. 5 ── Divine (5Ds)

This man is terrible in every way, and that's the point. I hate that his character was designed to be hated. He gets no backstory, no redemption arc, no nothing. He's just there to be blamed for every bad thing that's ever happened. I pity him. He's the worst. I love this guy.

♡. 4 ── Thief King Bakura (DM)

PLEASE give this guy a break. He has gone through enough. The way he pulled himself back up after all that tragedy is impressive. Imagine how one skillful Thief became a Pharaoh's major threat. A Thief who brings up important moral questions that society seems to ignore (deliberately). He deserves to be heard.

♡. 3 ── Kiyoshi Takaido & Satake (DM)

They share third place because I can't have one without the other. I automatically started loving them because they're close friends with Kotsuzuka. I like that they care about him. These guys have so much potential to explore, and it's a shame we see so little of them.

They're not 'Keith's lackeys'. They're duelists in their own right. They have ambitions and aspirations. They just didn't get to be in the spotlight.

♡. 2 ── Yami Bakura (DM)

Sometimes switches places with Takaido and Satake but usually stays in second place. He's wickedly perfect. From his gorgeous design to how he pretends everything is part of his plan, even though he's literally dissipating into nothingness. He has the nerve to make empty threats that he never carries out. And I love him for that. No one can deny that he looks cool when he shows how evil™️ he is.

There's something beautiful about this ancient evil spirit dedicating his existence to fulfill his objective - all while showing us that he can enjoy normal human activities, like playing games. The complexity of his character captivates me. You can study him for hours, and it will still take you a while to figure him out due to his confusing lore. I like reading what other fans have to say about him.

The way he makes others suffer causes me to have mixed feelings. Sure, I love angst. I just wish there were some feelings involved.

Seeing him make enemies with almost everyone he crosses paths with makes me think he wants to keep everyone away, and that's sad. I want him to care about someone other than himself. I want someone to care about him.

♡. 1 ── Ghost Kotsuzuka (DM)

Yes, that one guy who's known for using Zombie-Type monsters. That short, spooky 15-year-old who walks around hunched over pretending to be a ghost, not realizing he's too cute to be scary. That naive boy who trusted the wrong person and then was unlucky enough to cross paths with the main antagonist. He's my favorite.

I love him. The way his eyes light up when he talks about the things he likes is adorable. I could listen to him gush about ghosts for hours.

His character tends to be frustratingly misinterpreted and overlooked. It's sad that some people think of him as nothing more than collateral damage to Yami Bakura's 'mischief'. He deserves better than that.

When you see past his 'side antagonist' role, you realize he's a precious little guy who's trying his best. Behind that ghostly, mischievous smile, there's a lost youth looking for guidance from a 'big bro' figure he can look up to, whether he realizes this or not.

Despite the differences in his characterization between the manga, anime, and games, one thing remains consistent. He grows into someone who wants to prove he can duel by himself.

But what does he get? Nothing but pain. Betrayed, deceived, ending up dead or lost in the darkness, condemned in almost every canon, with only his sentient Duel Links data to remember him by.

He only wanted to duel.

---------------------ꕥ

I'll stop here. Otherwise, I'll be talking about Kotsuzuka for hours. Thank you so much for the ask! ♡ Sorry that it took a while. I was struggling to organize what I wanted to say for some of the characters, and I wanted to add some art :3

Keep in mind that I've only seen Duel Monsters and the first half of 5Ds, so there are many characters I don't know yet.

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hopefulromances · 3 months

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Hey! Hope you're still accepting requests :))

Roy/Jamie are my boys and hurt/comfort is my jam, so I wanted to suggest Roy being self-conscious about something (his knee or age are always convenient but maybe feeling like he's not in his physical prime anymore, like Jamie has a lot more (and more fit) options) and Jamie being there to build him up and make it very clear no one can compare for him.

Thank you for all your great R/J works <3

HI! Yes I am still taking requests! Thank you so much I love my crazy boys!

Roy jogged just slightly behind Jamie. It was bothering him today, his stupid knee. He had done a pretty good job of hiding it as he and Jamie rolled out of bed but it was fucking cold. He couldn't slow down, wouldn't. Jamie was bounding easily just ahead of him, smooth and graceful like Roy had once been.

As much as it pained him to say it, Roy was jealous. Jealous of Jamie, jealous of the men he saw flirt with Jamie when they were at the bar. That used to be him. Young, fit, leading the way in the league. Now he was, what? A washed up has been, figuratively -currently literally- struggling to keep with with the younger generation that had come to replace him.

He stared straight ahead, watching his breath, focusing on the visible signs that he was still breathing. That and the effortless beauty of Jamie's body. He was so good, Jamie. He'd grown so much under Roy's coaching. His body eagerly matching his ambition. His endurance and strength evolving with him as he made his way up in the league.

If he could focus on that, on Jamie, he could make it back to the house. Then he could get back in the bed and warm up his aching joints and pretend that everything was normal and okay.

"Fuck!" Of course his luck wouldn't last. One wrong step and he felt that crick in his knee, sending him stumbling to his knees.

"Roy!" Jamie whipped around and came back to help him. "Fuck, man, are you alright?"

He started to bend over to help him but Roy held up a hand with a grunt. He just needed a second. Just one fucking second to catch his breath. He balled his hands into fists, taking a deep inhale. In a second the pain would fade and he'd be able to move again.

He heard Jamie sigh and kneel down next to him. "Roy, we can go home, it's alright."

"Shut the fuck up," Roy gritted, refusing to look up. Jamie huffed, standing back up. Then he started walking away.

Roy felt his heart rate skyrocket. This was it, Jamie finally realized that Roy wasn't worth his time. That he could do better than a broken has-been who was so desperate to stay relevant. Jamie could go down the street and find any number of men or women who could keep up with him.

"Jamie, wait, where are you going?" Roy tried really hard not to sound desperate but he was failing.

"I'm going home, man," Jamie told him, shrugging. "It's fuckin' cold and you're miserable."

Roy gritted his teeth, he was not going to let Jamie get away. He pushed himself up, ignoring the grotesque noise his knee was making.

"No, I'm fine," He reached out and grabbed on to Jamie's wrist, tugging him back. "We've still got three miles left."

"You're obviously not fine, mate." Jamie gave him a look. A pitiful, horrible look that made Roy's skin crawl. "Let's just go home!"

Roy shook his head. "I'm fine. But if you want to go home! Fine! Go ahead!"

Jamie frowned, furrowing his eyes at him. But Roy was fucking stubborn, he raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to leave. The crazy thing is, he did. He just walked away, heading home, leaving Roy there on the street.

Then Roy was left standing there alone. At 5 o'clock in the morning, knee killing him, colding biting him. He didn't even run. He just stood there, silently seething, dreading returning home, knowing that when he stepped in Jamie was going to break up with him and leaving him in the dust. Just like everyone else in the fucking world.

Eventually, Roy did have to move, the cold eventually becoming too much for him. He seethed the whole time, preparing himself to strike first, to break up with Jamie before he had a chance to break up with him. Run before things can get bad. That's what Roy had done his whole life.

When he opened the door, however, he wasn't met with a conversation, but the wafting smell of tea the sound of football playing softly on the tv. Roy shut the door behind him, Jamie perking up at the sound of the door shutting.

"Welcome home!" he called, pausing the game. Roy walked forward warily, as if he was waiting for Jamie to strike. "How was the rest of your nasty run?" Roy stood staring at Jamie. Jamie held out his hands, waiting for Roy to do something. "What? You going to speak, grandad?"

"Fucking stop!" Roy barked. Jamie's grin left in an instant and he leaned back. Roy cursed under his breath. "Stop calling me fucking- grandad and the like."

"Alright, alright, calm down, man!" Jamie soothed. "Why don't you come sit down and tell me what's got your panties in a twist."

Roy grumbled deciding if he should or if he should just end this now. But Dr. Sharon said communication was key so he sat down.

Jamie scooted closer, so his leg was pressing into his. "Can I sit here?" Roy looked over at him before nodding once and letting himself relax a bit into Jamie. "Alright, now why don't you tell me what's going on in that hairy head of yours."

"You're so... fit," Roy started, feeling the cocky smirk Jamie grew. "And I'm so..." He titled his head, chewing the words in his mouth. "Old and fuckin' broken and shit." He watched Jamie open his mouth but barreled through him. "You could have anyone you wanted. Someone younger, who could keep up with you and not have to worry about their knees aching on account of the cold weather." Roy spit the words out, losing his breath as he finished. He took a deep breath, regaining his composure before finishing. "You could have someone better."

He finished and finally looked over at Jamie who was pursing his lips. He looked at Roy expectantly as if waiting for more.

"You done?" Jamie asked.

Roy nodded.

"You fucking dumb shit," Jamie scoffed.

"OI!"

"You're dead stupid you know that!" He continued, shaking his head. "You think I could do better than you? Better than Roy Kent?" Jamie tugged at Roy's shoulder, trying to get him to look at him but Roy just frowned.

Jamie sighed and rested his head on Roy's shoulder, nuzzling into his back as he tried to offer him some comfort in the only way he knew how. Physical affection.

"Roy, you're all I've ever wanted," Jamie murmured. "You challenge me, you make me laugh, you keep me safe, you know my limits and when to push them. I'm pretty sure you know me inside and out better than anyone else there is, besides me mum, maybe." He kissed Roy's shoulder, before resting his chin. "You're all I've ever wanted. And I don't want to do better than you. I just want you."

Roy looked down at Jamie perched on his shoulder. "Really?"

"Really, really," Jamie nodded.

Then Roy did something he never let himself do. He shifted to turn into Jamie, resting his head against Jamie's chest. Jamie quickly adjusted his grip, letting Roy fall on top of him as he laid down on the couch. Roy pressed his face into Jamie's heart, trying so hard to break through and rest right next to it, to stay there forever. Instead he just closed his eyes and listened to Jamie's strong, steady rhythm.

Maybe it was alright that Roy couldn't keep up in the cold anymore. Jamie could keep up enough for both of them.

#roy kent #jamie tartt #royjamie #roy kent x jamie tartt #roy x jamie #ted lasso

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straydog733 · 6 months

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I just need to share with you one of the stupidest writing choices I've seen in a long time.

(Spoilers for The Gilded Age S2 Premiere)

-/-

So The Gilded Age is not a good show, but it's a not-good show that I'm going to watch every second of. It's by the guy who made Downton Abbey, leaning into all his worst habits, and it's trash in incredibly tacky outfits. But anyway, in Season 1, they have this character named Peggy. She's a young woman, from a Black Elite family in New York, ambitions to be a journalist, but also some mysterious secret that she's keeping all season. It's eventually dribbled out that she had a baby who died at birth, but when someone tries to blackmail her for her scandalous past, turns out she was married at the time (to a lower class man her father didn't approve of, but married nonetheless), so she can be pitied, not scorned. After the baby died, her father paid her husband to fuck off and annul the marriage. This was a few years ago, and Peggy has been trying to find the midwife who delivered her stillborn, to talk to her and get a bit of closure.

PSYCH, BABY'S ALIVE! Her father paid the midwife (what must have been an absurd amount of money) to kidnap his grandson, foist him off to another family, and tell Peggy her baby died. The first season ends with her and her mother heading off on an adventure to find and reunite with her boy.

So this plot was very unpopular and got the show a lot of criticism. It was boring, it was a scandal with all the scandal removed, it was a retread of a Downton plot, and it took Peggy away from the actually interesting stuff about New York black high society and black journalism at the turn of the century. So how best to respond to these criticisms in the premiere of Season 2?

PSYCH, BABY'S DEAD AGAIN! We start the season after a time skip, in which time Peggy has managed to track down her three year old son, gotten in contact with his family, and almost reunited with him...only to learn he died of scarlet fever six months ago. The season starts with them having learned this a bit ago and already in mourning, because the show creator refuses to put anything interesting on screen, and by the end of the episode she is determined to leave her parents' home again and basically return to her non-baby Season 1 plot.

And I just can't get over the fact that they double-killed her baby. I get wanting to write out this stupid plot, but there are ways to do it that don't feel like a shaggy dog story and bury a vibrant character in mourning for the season premiere!

Andrea and I have been plotting alternatives, and it would have been SO easy: have her meet the kid, realize he's a happy toddler with a loving family, and that she doesn't want to tear him away from that to be a single mother (which a character on Downton did twice with the same baby, so you'd even be attoning for a previous sin!). "Oh my darling son, I am glad to know you, and I will make you proud of your mother's accomplishments as I take the publishing world by storm!" Then you never have to show the kid again, can throw in a line every now and then about her visiting, and she can still do her fun plotline! Boom, fixed it!

It is all just brain-bendingly stupid and I needed to ramble and share the joy. And as a reward for getting to the end, have a ridiculous costume photo of an unrelated character:

#the gilded age #downton abbey #julian fellows #they double-killed her baby

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respectthepetty · 10 months

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Cutie (Colored) Pie

The Colors Award for Most Consistent Color Coding across Seasons of a Series goes to Cutie Pie's Lian and Kuea. They are color-coded boys in love, and their tale is the epitome of Champagne Problems as one Rich Boy tries to love another Rich Boy.

Lian is a Blue Boy who is loyal, stable, and new money.

Kuea is a Red Rascal who is passionate, spontaneous, and old money.

Kuea's best friend is Diao who is a Yellow/Orange Oddity.

Diao is in love with his Red Rascal guardian, Yi, who also happens to be Lian's best friend and business partner.

Indulgent Daddy Yi (who is the love of my life) is a Red Rascal trying to change to a Blue Boy, so he won't allow himself to openly admit he has feelings for Diao since he feels responsible for Diao.

Because he is a Red Rascal, but best friends with a Blue Boy, he usually gets put in the middle of Lian and Kuea's disagreements since he understands Kuea's hangups but knows Lian's true feelings.

The couple's issues stem from Kuea not being his true Relaxed Red Rascal self who wears jeans and T-shirts because he fears his Business Blue Boy, who wears suits all day every day, won't love him, so he pretends to be a Business Blue Boy too.

Kuea has tried to covered up his red since they were kids because their families arranged their marriage at birth and their families expect them to be compatible.

But Lian knows about Kuea's true colors since he grew up with Kuea.

Lian just wants Kuea to be honest with him and shows his love for Kuea by wearing his color.

Because he knows he is dealing with a real Red Rascal who sneaks out and keeps secrets.

So he encourages Kuea to embrace his color around him by hinting he knows Kuea's secrets, like by buying him a red drum set so Kuea can continue his musical ambitions in his new home.

But they are still at odds because neither truly feels good enough for the other.

Even though they love each other, which the color exchange proves, Kuea questions why Lian wants to be with him, and Lian can't understand why Kuea hides his true self from Lian, mostly because he feels like he, a man of new money, needs to live up to the family name and history he will inherit when he marries Kuea.

Kuea can't cook nor can he clean, yet Lian still wants to give him a ring, so Kuea thinks Lian is doing all of this due to obligation and pity when he finds out that his family is going broke, and Lian is basically getting them out of debt.

Kuea has to decide if he wants to put all their secrets out in the open and let the world know his real color, or if he wants to remain hiding himself and all the reasons he believes Lian and him won't work out.

He decides to be honest in his red bow tie, and in the process, he rejects Lian's proposal AT HIS DAD'S BIRTHDAY while he finally expresses all of his fears. Indulgent Daddy Yi steps in again with his boyfriend to help these two sort their differences out.

They reconcile after realizing that the love they have for each other isn't based on lies or coming from a sense of duty and decide to wait until Kuea finishes school before they get married.

Their friends and all the club serve as witnesses to their love, including the dark versus light color-coded Brooding Boy and Heavenly Human Nuer and Syn. Yes. We had THREE color-coded pairs!

Because Kuea is finally comfortable in their relationship, he carries Lian's love and color into his internship after only wearing red at school.

Kuea graduates with Lian by his side.

And they begin to plan their wedding.

They finally get married by Perth Gemini Jay after the perfect wedding that Poppy Foei planned gets ruined. Yes, Perth and Poppy were in this show.

And Kuea becomes an idol in Korea. Don't ask.

Bless this color-coded love mess fest.

I look forward to seeing if Indulgent Daddy Yi can change his color in Naughty Babe or if he will learn a similar lesson as Kuea and let his true color shine.

#cutie pie #cutie pie 2 you #the colors mean things #color coded boys in love #lian x kuea #I love color consistency #blue boy and red rascal #the color exchange

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tommarvoloriddlesdiary · 1 year

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“Riddle, did you hear about the new war refugees?”

Tom sat comfortably in a fine leather chair by the fireplace. Its top back boasted a swooping curved wood carving of snakes at play, the detail work all done in delicate silver filigree. Admittedly, it wasn’t a very comfortable chair at all, as ostentatious as it was and no doubt older than Headmaster Dippet himself—but Tom would not be seen as picky of all things. His image of imperturbable Head Boy was undoubtedly always at stake.

Glancing up from his book, a spelt hidden copy of Dark Curses; The Uncounterable, Tom deigned Abraxas with his already drifting attention. “You’ll have to be more specific, Abraxas. There have been, after all, nearly sixty or so of them.”

Abraxas never huffed, but this was a near thing, “Yes, yes. Well, all those other ones aren’t worth our time. These refugees have just sorted Slytherin.”

Ah, that was interesting. The children sent here from Grindelwald’s warpath have all been the same in some way. They have come injured almost beyond repair, some still recovering in the medi-wing. They have come devastated by their loss, newly orphaned and longing for their homes. They have come angry, lashing out and vicious, headstrong to a fault— Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs through and through.

It was almost a surprise none had so far come with any ambition or cunning loud enough to sway the hat to their esteemed house. Surely the rumours of Slytherin House and their darker leanings could not have reached every new ear.

It almost had the makings of a conspiracy. Or it had, before these new students.

“More than one?” Tom asked.

Abraxas crossed his arms and raised his chin, pleased to have Tom’s attention. He loved gossiping, a terrible and useful habit that Tom often happily exploited. “Three of them,” he leaned in closer, “and they all claim to be siblings. But it’s absolutely absurd; they look nothing close to related. The only thing they share in common is their surname.”

Tom thought it odd that they would feel the need to lie about something so simple. “When did they arrive?”

“This morning. I passed by Slughorn, who could not help himself from sharing with Avery and me his absolute delight at having new Slytherins to take under his wing.” Abraxas frowned, “Though that was ages ago. It is strange he’s yet to introduce them to you.” He continued muttering, and Tom’s attention returned to his book, “You’re his favourite, Head Boy and all. You’d make the best impression….”

Tom hummed, noncommittal. It wouldn’t do to look anything more than humble, though he doubted Abraxas would notice. “I’m sure we will meet them soon. Lunch starts in an hour.”

— —

And meet, they did.

New students used to be all the rage. Tittering and giggling and whispering abound. Some stares of sympathy, pity. New students used to be an unnecessary building of energy that would last over the course of several days until it inevitably died off. So Tom was grateful when the shiny lustre of sad little children arriving in droves finally pittered into solemn, if curious, acceptance. Not an unusual occurrence by any means.

These three students appear to have brought that ridiculous energy back.

They entered the Great Hall late, and Tom assumed this was reason one of a long list that triggered the excitement. Slughorn and Dippet were decidedly absent, and when they arrived, it was with the new Slytherins in tow. This wouldn’t have caused any fuss if it hadn’t been for Slughorn’s naturally boisterous voice and Dippet’s worried frown at whatever inane things he was spouting. Their conversation drew attention like moths to a flame.

“And this is the Great Hall! Truly a marvel, is it not?” Slughorn proclaimed with large, outstretched hands. Displaying the hall like a muggle magic trick. Disgusting.

Reason two revealed itself in the new students’ reactions. It was customary to feel some sense of awe when seeing the Great Hall for the first time. Tom certainly remembers his. How the night shone brighter than he’d ever known it capable of away from the smog of London. How magic made even the stars that much more attainable.

But one of the students had simply stopped. He was half a head shorter than the other boy and about level with the girl, with dark hair and glasses. Tom couldn’t see much else that distinguished him from any other classmate, but there was a way he held himself that was so different from the other students that had come and toured the castle. He looked upon the duller grey sky of today’s dreary rainstorm with something that wasn’t quiet wonder or amazement. His siblings certainly didn’t share his interest, hardly glancing at the ceiling at all, finding the food much more appealing.

No, Tom was sure he wasn’t taking in the majesty of the hall’s fine spellwork; if anything, he seemed so incredibly relieved.

His siblings’ reactions to his pause, when they finally noticed he’d stopped at the doors and they’d gone on without him, Tom assumed caused reason three for the excitement. They rushed to him with a startled “Harry!” and grabbed his arms, gripping him hard enough to pull him out of his trance. His head bounced rapidly between the two, a lanky ginger and a girl with hair so poofy Tom thought her part puffskein, obviously bewildered.

The girl had gone so far as to cradle his face, her palm pressed to the flat of his cheek. Tom couldn’t make out the words from here, but the students lunching were suddenly less inclined to make much noise, the sound dropping to a polite chatter. Everyone wanted to eavesdrop, it seemed.

This led to reason four: these… siblings… they were really very, very close.

And suddenly the excitement knew no peace.

“Merlin,” Emmett Parkinson scoffed, “what are they? Lovers? I thought you said they were family, Malfoy?”

Abraxas dragged his attention away from their display to respond indignant, “That’s what I was told!”

“He’d also said they were triplets,” Cygnus Black chimed in, revulsion evident across his features. “Those mudbloods seem to have carried a nasty muggle trait here with them,” he smirked, “careful. It could be catching.”

Muted laughter carried its way through the seventh and some sixth-year Slytherins. It was rich of Cygnus to throw such blatant accusations of incest around, but Tom could admit that if they kept this up, the Evans would be torn apart within the day. Such softness was frowned upon in their house.

Slughorn and Dippet brought them to the staff table and quickly introduced them to the Professors. “These three bright minds are Harry, Ronald, and Hermione Evans! Our newest seventh-years! I’ve been told we can expect great things from them,” Slughorn said. He puffed up like he always did when he boasted about his Slytherin students. However, it was rare to see him boast about students he hardly knew.

Then the most curious thing happened.

Slughorn turned toward the Slytherin table, eyes searching until they fell upon Tom and ambled over. This wasn’t surprising; Tom expected to meet them as Abraxas had said and expected Slughorn to introduce them to him first. Abraxas was not wrong about Slughorn favouring Tom over others.

“And this is our very own Head Boy, Tom Riddle! Tom is an exceptional young lad. He’ll be invaluable during your time here regarding any questions or concerns you might have— a vital resource!” Slughorn chortled and patted Tom’s shoulder.

What surprised Tom, and what was wholly unexpected, was the blatant hostility after they were introduced.

Hermione Evans was a plain girl with a deep complexion, made plainer by her pinched brows and tilted head as though Tom were a very disagreeable book but one she just needed to get through to argue its faults fully. Finally, after a long moment of staring, she gave a little nod that seemed more toward herself than him and said, “Hello.”

“Merlin,” started Ronald Evans, broken from whatever trance had consumed him by the girl’s voice. He was decidedly the odd one out of the trio, with his tall frame rivalling Tom’s height and his bright hair and pale, freckled face. Seeing them all up close made it even more apparent how impossible their claims of being triplets were. Surely if they were triplets, they’d be a medical marvel. “I promise we won’t go to you for shite.”

Tom’s brows raised. Hermione Evans hissed out a berating “Ronald” and whipped around to stare at him aghast. She hit his arm when he simply shrugged unapologetically.

Tom ignored them in favour of casting his attention to the final Evans, Harry. Hermione Evans and Harry shared more in common. They shared wild hair and sun-kissed skin and height. Yet their differences were aplenty. Harry’s hair was darker, and his eyes were brighter— a vivid green that Tom couldn’t seem to place but knew was undoubtedly familiar— and he had a long jagged scar that cut down his forehead and through his brow. It marred his face with a dull unhealed red.

Harry did not look at Tom, refused to, and kept his head held high and sight straight ahead to the wall opposite. Such an intense focus.

When it became clear Tom wouldn’t receive much of a greeting from Harry either, he spoke. “Welcome to Hogwarts,” Tom smiled charmingly. It was the kind he pulled out on rare occasions when he knew people were looking down on him for his name and, ultimately, blood status. Though, he didn’t think that to be the problem at the moment. “If you do find yourselves needing assistance, I would be happy to lend a hand.”

“Very good!” Slughorn continued, oblivious or simply ignoring the odd tension. “I’ll be sure to get you your timetables by tomorrow morning, students! For now, enjoy the rest of your day!”

And then they were alone with all of Slytherin House paying very close attention.

Tom opened his mouth, readying himself to invite the trio to sit with him during lunch. If anyone could pick information out efficiently, it would be his knights, but Hermione Evans beat him to it, “Thank you. We would stay, but we have a meeting.”

She hooked her arms through her… brothers’ and stole them away. She dragged them back up the hall and through the doors, clamouring to get out as though the devil were on their tail. How very odd.

What meeting could they possibly have on their first day here?

Druella Rosier scoffed. “Mannerless, who could have guessed?”

“Evans certainly isn’t a wizarding name,” Emmett frowned, “and how are we meant to put up with more siblings? The Blacks are already ridiculous enough. Someone says ‘Black’ once, and five heads turn!”

“Come now, Emmett,” Alphard Black twisted around his brother and smirked. He pointed his fork at Emmett, careless even as it barely grazed Cygnus’s nose, who leant back unamused. “If anything, you could consider us practice. But judging by the look of them,” Alphard sat back and straightened out, “I doubt they’d even answer you if you called.”

The rest of the Slytherins bickered among themselves, content to poke their fun and gossip. Tom held his tongue; he kept a careful ear and tuned out when uninterested. The Evans seemed odd but nothing special. Tom could care less about their decorum or lack thereof as long as they didn’t make any trouble for their house.

— —

Tom spoke too soon.

They had vanished for the remainder of the day. No one had seen hide nor hair of all three Evans since their grand entrance during lunch. Tom was confident they’d gotten lost. But as he settled into his chair by the fireplace once more for the evening, enjoying the last moments of the night before his prefect rounds, they finally arrived.

Harry was in low murmured talks with Ronald, their heads bent close together, while Hermione Evans had her full attention on a tome in her hands. Following behind her in the air was a stack of five or six more. Had that been where they were? The library?

Walburga Black tutted from her perch on the leather chesterfield opposite, “They haven’t even introduced themselves and have hardly been here some hours, yet have already riffled through the library shamelessly?”

Tom was more bemused than offended. How they remembered their way to the library after Slughorn’s (most likely brief) tour was a more pressing mystery. But given how Hermione Evans flipped through pages of a book like a windstorm, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn she had a photographic memory.

And as absorbed in her text as she was, and without her brothers’ careful guidance while distracted as they were, she walked right into Waylen Mulciber. Who, Tom supposed, in her defence, anticipated her blunder. He had watched her wander deeper into the room with a vicious grin and hadn’t been inclined to move out of the way. Instead, Waylen stood there, arms crossed, wand already out, and took her minor collision with dramatics only rivalled by Abraxas himself.

“Watch yourself, mudblood!” Waylen shoved her back, and Tom’s brows arched as her brothers sprung into gear. Ronald caught her before she fell to the floor, and Harry Evans cast a quick spell to keep her trailing books up as they’d begun to fall when she did. The students still left in the common room took to the scene like the play it was, smiles sharp as they kept a close eye on the performance.

“What a joke,” Waylen continued, “to have tainted—“ his mouth pressed shut into a fine line. He panicked and reached up with both his hands to touch his throat and face, wand delicately balanced, and panicked more when his wand was ripped from his hold.

Harry Evans seemed to have taken Waylen’s starting rant as a cue to silence him and his shock as a cue to disarm him. Tom was nearly impressed at the speed of his casting, blindsiding one of the better duelling students, but it was hardly a fair fight. And Mulciber was an idiot on a good day.

“Harry, wait-stop. It’s all right; he doesn’t matter,” Hermione Evans said, holding a vice grip on Ronald’s arm, reaching out a hesitant hand to Harry’s wrist. His eyes were locked on Waylen’s, a severe frown pulling at his face, but when he turned his gaze to Hermione, they softened.

There was something about that look. It was certainly chastised, very apologetic, but also stern. A sureness that almost radiated. A loud he deserved it echoing throughout the common room.

But it relented. Harry Evans sighed and rolled his eyes to the heavens. When he spoke, Tom noted his voice as quiet, clear, and nearly casually authoritative. “Here. Fetch,” he said and tossed Waylen’s wand across the room. It stopped just beside Tom on the floor, a roll away from the burning fireplace. Tom did not doubt that was artfully intentional, and he felt the amusement of it all curling his lips. “If I ever hear you say that word again, I’ll do more than embarrass you.”

The silence lingered. Or it did until Ronald whistled something low and encouraging, its sound causing Harry and Hermione Evans to look at him bewildered. Then, when he gave Harry a pleased grin and a thumbs-up, the tension popped like apparition.

Harry snorted loud and unattractive. His hand slapped across his face in a poor attempt to conceal his onslaught of… giggles. Hermione shook her head in awe, a growing smile tugging at her lips, and kept a firm hold on Ronald’s arm as she grabbed at the sleeve of Harry’s robes and once again dragged them out and away from their fellow Slytherins. In a commendable show of magic, the tomes still hovering beside Harry kept stable and unwavering, following them out even as Harry Evans’s laughter became near uncontrollable. The sound of it echoed down the hall until the common room door slid shut.

The overall reaction to their escape was mutiny.

Loud screeches of how dare they and someone go stop them and does anyone know the counter for Mulciber rang out across the room amongst the murmured contemplation. When Tom looked over at Walburga and took stock of her appalled face, he was tempted to laugh too.

What a fascinating final year at Hogwarts it was turning out to be.

#tomarry #tomarrymort #harrymort #pov: tom #my fic #2.7k words #fic is unnamed at the moment #hi i forgot i posted that thing while i was at work yesterday so before i got to work today i thought i'd hand it over #i'll be mostly gone the next 12 hours trying to survive my shift so please take my wack attempts at making another tomarry time travel fic #and be kind #because picking names for past people is a challenge i hate #also i didn't read this over one last time before sending it so pray for me that there are minimal errors

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foxsimthings · 19 days

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Ryder Baird for @plumbewb 's Just Julia!

Young adult | Former Deadbeat Dad | Paramedic Hot-Headed | Ambitious | Family-Oriented

Ryder's life might as well be a tapestry of mistakes. Since being adopted as a pre-teen, his choices were questionable at best. His school-age days were marred with a history of drug and alcohol usage, smoking, expulsions, detentions, a few stints in juvenile detention, and two older adoptive parents who were more than a few times at their wit's end. The troubles persisted into high school, where he became a teen father - and promptly abandoned the mother of his child upon graduation.

Football was the only thing that kept him even slightly grounded, and while he played well, his grades were too pitiful to get him into any kind of post-secondary education on a sports ride. Not that Ryder was anticipated to be the next big thing in science and innovation.

So his streak of being terrible continued. Selling drugs wound up being a lucrative enough hustle and he was good at it, a charming salesman when money was to be made, and a brutal enforcer when cash was overdue. It seemed the only shiny thing in his future was a pair of handcuffs.

Ryder was twenty-three when his adoptive mother died. Though his father was perhaps the harsher of the two, his mother loved him from the start. She withstood his aggression, his anger, his shouting, his ear-blasting music. She picked him up from the drunk tank, bailed him out of jail, came to collect him when he totaled his car. And while he expected anger, expected her to hate him - abandon him like his biological parents must have - she only ever promised to care for him, to love him.

And suddenly, she was gone. She only knew him as a waste of skin, and held out hope all the while that he would be something better. That his pain would manifest in something useful to the world, to society. As far as she knew, he never did.

Her death marked a change in him, though, and it sparked great ambition in him. His father wasn't getting any younger, and Ryder became determined not to repeat the same mistake twice. He became (mostly) sober and got out of the dealing business, spent the money putting himself through school to become a paramedic. Now he's as good a father as he can be to his young daughter, spending every spare simoleon he has on her happiness.

While perhaps an unlikely candidate, and a bit of a fixer-upper, Ryder has known great, filthy wealth and chose his life and his family over money. He's known unimaginable indulgence and set it aside for something greater. He's rough around the edges, and not always a walk in the park - but some women like that.

#justjulia #sims 4 #ts4

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nayialovecat · 8 months

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The Ink Demonth 2023 - Day 30. Duck

Day 30. Duck Crossover: DuckTales "Let's split up," said Scrooge McDuck. Because what could go wrong? :D

In his "youth", Scrooge McDuck had so many adventures, sometimes accompanied by teenage Donald and Della Duck, that I assume they may have ventured into an abandoned, strange animation studio in the 1960s... Whenever I think about Della and Donald's past, I imagine her as a carefree, hyperactive girl running forward screaming "adventure" - and him as a sensible, prepared for everything, skeptical young man. Please don't deny my imaginations.

I love DuckTales. I watched this cartoon when I was a little girl - I even had a radio play based on a time travel episode on cassette. I learned to draw characters and their expressions using Donald Duck newspapers, using the tracing method on the glass. Comics about Donald was probably first I ever made. Donald Duck, his large family and, above all, Scrooge, whom I adored - this was a large part of my early childhood. Unfortunately, unlike W.I.T.C.H. my huge collection of Donald Duck and Gigants issues didn't survive - one day I discovered that my mother simply took everything and gave it to some library, hospital or simply threw it into the trash. I was very sorry :c

Let's talk about the DuckTales reboot for a moment. Generally, as an huge fan of various things, I am often quite skeptical about new products, reboots or new series and I'm strict in my assessment. Sometimes I will get into a new series, but often I will say "it's not as good as the original" (because very often it's not). But in the case of DuckTales, I think the reboot is wonderful. The characters have been refreshed, the nephews have gained individuality, Donald Duck has gained a much nicer character (just like Daisy). Sometimes a little voice inside me says "wait a minute, no, it was different in the canon" - but then I say to myself "but this is a different canon." There are three things that irritate me and I can't forgive for the reboot. The first one is Gyro. What the hell did they do to him? Where is my lovable, overworked scientist, too polite and gentle to refuse Scrooge a job for a miserable salary? No, Gyro is terrible in the reboot, I hate every single second of the show with him on the screen. The second one is Magica de Spell. Why is she completely, absolutely and totally evil? This was not the Magica whose adventures I read and loved! What did they do to her? Where is Magica's love for family (i.e. her niece)? Where's Magica, who treats Scrooge as her frenemy? Where's Magica, who cries her sorrows to her broom and is bound by a cursed fate to Number One Dime? They made her the main villain, completely leaving out cool criminals like the Beagle Boys! And the last one, but I should actually start with this... a drawing style. This one repels me. These square heads and crude drawing style irritate me terribly. But then I saw a new series of classic Disney cartoons featuring Donald, Mickey and Goofy - and I realized that there are worse drawn things. Of course, there are still a few things that irritate me, but I often dismiss them - and I enjoy watching the reboot.

Finally, I will just say that although I really like the past of the characters in the reboot, I am irritated by Della's character. I do not like her. Maybe it has to do with the fact that, being a mother myself, I give my child the highest priority - a woman abandoning her tiny children to satisfy her ambitions is something incomprehensible to me - I have neither respect nor pity for Della and I believe that family (or at least her children) should reject her and be unwilling to forgive her. I know that's a cruel opinion. I haven't watched the entire series, but the episodes I've seen of her return irritated me. I admire Donald's composure. I would probably totally beat up my sister if I were in his place. Della also annoys me in all the episodes with her and Donald's past. She's almost as annoying as Mabel from Gravity Falls.

Bendy and the Ink Machine (c) Joey Drew Studios Inc. DuckTales (c) Disney Sammy and the Ink Machine (c) Nayia Lovecat

#The Ink Demonth #Bendy and the Ink Machine #Sammy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #SATIM #DuckTales #Scrooge McDuck #Donald Duck #Della Duck #Bendy (suggestion)#Ink Demon (suggestion)#Ink Bendy (suggestion)#Boris #poster #back to the Workshop #The Ink Demonth 2023 #crossover

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what-if-queen-camilla · 10 months

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Chapter 26

The part we've probably all been equally awaiting as afraid of... 🥺 The house of cards is collapsing, everyone... 🥺🥺🥺

20th November 1995

Middlewick House

To her own surprise, Camilla had managed to find a more or less comfortable spot in front of the television tonight, on the floor in what used to be her and Andrew's sitting room, between half-packed boxes and half-dismantled furniture; they were in the middle of relocating, the final moving date was scheduled for the first week of December so that they'd settle down in their new home just in time for Christmas. She had just put Thea to bed, got herself a huge glass of red wine (she had no idea just how much she was going to need it at this point…), cuddled up in a fluffy blanket and tuned in on tonight's program just in time… "Your Royal Highness, how prepared were you for the pressures that came with marrying into the Royal Family?", was the first question the reporter asked Diana, who, trapped in her hatred and anger, had decided to give an interview, publicly slamming everybody but herself for the misery she found herself in and somehow Camilla had the feeling that it probably wasn't going to do her any good. The Princess put on the sad look that she wore so well, dramatically lowering her eyes, as she replied, full of self-pity: "At the age of 19, you always think you're prepared for everything, and you think you have the knowledge of what's coming ahead. But although I was daunted at the prospect at the time, I felt I had the support of my husband-to-be." Camilla rolled her eyes, emptying her wine almost in one go. "You actually did have his support.", she thought, re-pouring herself another glass. "Before you started acting like a… oh nevermind." It was true. She had, indeed, had Charles' support. She, Camilla, remembered all too well how, before the wedding, he'd come over one last time, excitedly telling her all about his wife-to-be and how he'd do anything to make her feel comfortable and welcome and help her settling in her role - a role that yet had to be written at that point. He had been so optimistic and really had thought highly of Diana, convinced that she'd do brilliantly, that everyone was going to love her… and, with that, he'd been right actually."So you were isolated?", the reporter asked at some point, referring to how she was, or rather felt she was, treated by Charles, and of course that little bitch only too happily confirmed: "Uh,uh, very much so."What came next took her by surprise. Camilla had of course been expecting Diana to take every given opportunity to go after her… but that question seemed to come just as much out of nowhere as the response…

"Do you think Mrs Parker Bowles was a factor in the breakdown of your marriage?"

"Well, there were three of us in this marriage, so it was a bit crowded."She had said it in a self-pitiful, innocent little girl sort of manner, again, dramatically underlined by a dramatic glance and Camilla's heart cramped in pain. This wasn't true. It simply wasn't true. They hadn't even… rekindled their relationship until, well, a certain sort of breaking point had been reached on both sides. And there had been nothing but heartache for all of them anymore… She could actually understand why Diana hated her and she couldn't even blame her, but Charles… Charles didn't deserve this. He'd tried so hard to make this marriage work, to make her happy, but she had almost broken him! He’d only just been a shadow of his former self when she first saw him again in 1986, full of self-doubts, insecurities and little to none self-confidence left. And that had been Diana’s work! She had constantly ridiculed him for everything he had done and stood for, laughed at his ambitions and ideas, his visions for a better future… She had never cared about his work, and he was such a visionair with such amazing, far-sighted ideas, but like most geniuses, also an incredibly sensitive, vulnerable soul who needed a lot of love, support and reassurance… But neither Diana nor anyone else in this world or at least in this press and media jungle ever seemed to even think of it. A woman’s heartbreak sold, a man’s didn’t. It didn’t fit with the common image of what a man, especially a future King, should be like; strong, resilient and caring and always looking after others; Charles was all of this without a doubt but he needed somebody to look after him, too. But Diana had never been willing to do that. Camilla gulped heavily and swallowed a few tears away, as the reporter asked his next question:

"There have been rumours about Mrs Parker Bowles' youngest daughter and certain… questions regarding… her biological father…" Camilla was in a state of shock. Had he really just asked her about… Thea's father? "Oh God, please don't… ", everything inside her screamed, desperately praying that…

"Well, if you're trying to imply that my husband could have an illegitimate child with his mistress then I can only say that it wouldn't surprise me at all."

She underlined the significance of her accusation with one more dramatic lowering of her eyes and Camilla felt like vomiting. Her heart was beating like mad, she felt dizzy in her head and her hands were soaked with sweat. No, no, no, this couldn't be real, it mustn’t be real, not her daughter! Thea was only eight, her sweet, little innocent child… she had nothing to do with that mess, she did not deserve any of this… How dared Diana going after her daughter?! She could go after her as much as she wanted, she could make the whole world hate her but… in going after her daughter she had crossed a line. She'd kill her. She'd get into her car, drive to London, storm Kensington Palace, find that witch and shoot her down. And then she'd end up in prison… and her poor little girl would be all on her own, so, no, that wasn't quite an option.

Oh God, what had she done. What had they done with all of their lies, all of those years… This was going to be her last night as a carefree, happy, normal child, before the eyes of the world would be on her. She'd thought they'd been through hell following the publication of those goddamn tapes almost three years ago… then she'd thought they'd been through another hell following Charles' interview last year… but now this… this was going to be her end. She was not able to go through any of this again, it would kill her. She had somehow managed to stay strong as long as it had only been about her but now that her daughter was the target… How was she supposed to protect her? How was she supposed to explain it to her? It would turn her entire world upside down, it would shatter everything they'd so lovingly built up for their sweet little angel…

Floods of tears were running down her face as she was wandering around the house aimlessly, when she suddenly saw headlights shining through the cracks in the shutters, followed by screeching tires in the driveway which almost frightened her to death. Who on earth was that now? The press? Oh God in heaven… Panicking, she rushed over to the main entrance, desperately trying to lock the door from inside with her trembling hands, but the person outside was quicker and opened it and before she had a chance to recognise who it was, she felt two strong arms wrapping around her tightly, pulling her close, and a well-known voice unusually loving assuring her: "Don't worry, Milla, I'm here. You're not alone. I'll take care of you both."

And - who do you think has immediately shown up to protect the ladies? :-)

*Side Notes:The panorama interview did happen, it did, indeed, air on 20th November 1995. The Royal Family seemed to have been aware that there was going to be an interview but unaware of the exact content. You might have heard about the recent investigation and Prince William´s moving statement regarding the interview, saying in 2021: “It is my view that the deceitful way the interview was obtained substantially influenced what my mother said. The interview was a major contribution to making my parents’ relationship worse and has since hurt countless others.” The first three quoted questions and answers are taken from the real transcript, but please, while reading and hopefully enjoying, keep in mind that there's, let's say, some certain controversy around the whole topic.

#king charles #queen camilla #royal family #royal baby #fanfiction #fanfic

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saintsenara · 1 year

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other women and of purer blood narcissa malfoy/severus snape explicit | 7.7k words

narcissa could not pinpoint the exact moment when she realised that married life was not what she expected. perhaps it had been when she had tried to make polite conversation with abraxas about the malfoys’ new business ventures in palermo, which were forcing lucius to spend several nights away from home a week, and her father-in-law had looked at her with pity and said that the family had no investments in italy as far as he knew. perhaps it had been lucius’ face last month, when she failed to get pregnant again, as she had every month for the three years they had been married. she had not expected, when lucius presented her with the magnificent diamond which seemed to be growing looser on her finger every day, that she would be so lonely.

narcissa is adrift, rattling around malfoy manor, when an equally lonely man comes into her lonely life.

this piece was written for @womenofthehouseofblack fest [you can find the other fics in the collection here].

author's notes under the cut

the title comes from voldemort’s line in deathly hallows, spoken when harry has just revealed to him that snape was in love with lily potter:

He desired her, that was all, but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him.

when i first read this, i immediately had one person in mind for voldemort to be speaking about: narcissa.

after all, she and snape definitely have a tension in half-blood prince, when she visits him at home - and how on earth does she know how to find his house so easily if she hasn’t been there before? - in cokeworth.

and i have never been able to see snape and voldemort sitting down for a chat about women in general, but voldemort forcing him to confess an attraction to narcissa - a revelation which would give the dark lord the opportunity to humiliate lucius, draco, bellatrix, lily’s memory, and snape and narcissa all at once - is something which seems extremely plausible.

all of which is to say, i think that snarcissa is canon.

other women and of purer blood is set in the summer of 1978, after lucius and narcissa have been married for three years and snape has just left school. it is primarily an examination of two things: class and gender. [so, yes, as many commenters have pointed out, the lady chatterley’s lover vibe is deliberate.]

in her post-series writing and interviews, jkr is clearly of the opinion that the wizarding world is egalitarian in terms of gender - and certainly aspects of its history, such as the fact that there were female ministers for magic centuries before british muggles found themselves with a female prime-minister, support this. but, within the seven-book canon itself, gender roles do seem to be considerably more restrictive than she believes, especially when they intersect with the expectations of social class. the canonical narcissa, like almost every other pureblood woman we meet [such as Molly weasley] does not work, and her narrative arc across the series is defined by her role as wife and mother.

i have always wondered about how narcissa must have felt a pressure to conform to class and gender expectations, owing to both bellatrix and andromeda’s rejection of social convention [for example, i think you can read narcissa’s estrangement from andromeda as something she feels she should do, while bellatrix wants to do it]. in nor all that glisters gold [author’s notes here], another piece i have written for this fest, i look at how bellatrix chafes against marriage, which she sees as coming with a curtailing of her ambition. the narcissa of other women and of purer blood feels the same - reflecting on the opportunities for work and study that her marriage has brought her.

bellatrix also chafes against motherhood. the narcissa of this piece is uncomfortable with the fact that her own childlessness aligns her with her wayward sister - and, as she points out, that motherhood is something which andromeda has "won" against her.

bellatrix is happy, though, to be thought immodest - something lord voldemort is all too happy to make use of. [poor narcissa, realising that bella is having much better sex than she has ever had, despite the fact lucius is hot and voldemort appears to be made of melting wax…]

narcissa, in contrast, has a more complicated relationship with modesty and desire. the description of the witches’ clothing is intended to bring to mind the high-collared and long-sleeved dresses of the edwardian era - which lacked the looseness and ease of the medieval clothing magical people are often depicted as wearing. narcissa in this is someone who is rather buttoned up, and who finds it difficult to express her own wants and opinions selfishly. that lucius - who is written here as neither cruel nor abusive, just distant - doesn’t realise this, and assumes that her need for validation and attention [a trait shared by the canon draco - he must get it from his mother] can be bought with pretty presents, is but one cause of the rift between them.

snape, in contrast, provides narcissa with the comfort of understanding. where lucius patronises her about her "little parties", he supports her greater ambitions. he also offers her a way of freeing herself - even if just for the time they’re together - from the restrictions of her class.

[as i’ve mentioned in the notes to nor all that glisters gold, this is something i also believe voldemort offers bellatrix, and the parallels between snarcissa and bellamort in other women and of purer blood are deliberate.]

the canonical lord voldemort does not appear to respect narcissa - he clearly underestimates her, and his complacency in assuming that she isn’t a complex person proves to be his undoing. but he does not, i think, lack respect for her because of her role in the home. we are almost always shown voldemort in a domestic context in canon - which is fascinating, given that he’s always emphasised as someone who has managed to infiltrate the masculine-coded spaces of wizarding politics - and we see this play out in other women and of purer blood. voldemort recruits his death eaters through the male patron-client networks which are shown to govern wizarding society [lucius’ letter of introduction for snape, for example], but he also makes use of women’s social networks. lucius may not completely appreciate why voldemort regards gossip and female friendship and who has asked whom to be a bridesmaid as useful [narcissa, who is constantly subjected to gossip, understands very well], but the dark lord has clearly been reading up on the spread of all sorts of social movements in which women play a key role in converting their male relatives to the cause…

i also don’t think that voldemort’s lack of respect for narcissa comes from her gender. his lack of respect for lucius however, does…

lucius malfoy’s relationship with his masculinity is something which is displayed very interestingly in canon. he is written as somewhat effete - something which was played up in the films - but he also clearly regards himself both as a protector and as someone whose role as the male head of an elite family should be accompanied by a certain level of deference from men whom he considers beneath him. this is the reason why voldemort chooses to emasculate him in the opening chapter of deathly hallows by taking his wand, and why voldemort keeps him confined to the domestic space of the manor from this point onwards. this masculine competition drives lucius’ relationship with snape in other women and of purer blood - in which he notices the flirtatious vibe between his wife and a man he considers his social inferior and chooses to assert his dominance with humiliating ease.

lucius’ relationship to his manhood is also why i am certain that voldemort knows about the unbreakable vow made between snape and narcissa in half-blood prince - he would be delighted to remind lucius that his failings as a death eater drove narcissa into the arms of another male protector. draco is, of course, not a character in this story, but his presence is still felt. after all, i have always wondered exactly how voldemort got his claws into him - and exactly what role narcissa played in it.

we have one suggestion here. when voldemort disappeared in 1981, narcissa breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he was never going to collect on the debt she owed him for his silence…

she was wrong.

#asenora fics #snarcissa #narcissa malfoy #severus snape #other women and of purer blood #women of the house of black fest

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dream-meister-translations · 23 days

Text

THE TALE OF FOOD

DOUZHI - STORY #1

NOTE : These translations are done using the SG/MY version of the game, we apologize for any inconsistencies that may come with the official English release.

━

??? : Hey, what are you hesitating for? This is a fantastic opportunity!

??? : Really!? Do you think the young Master will come to see it too? Will they praise me?

??? : Don't get ahead of yourself.

While searching for any sign of Douzhi, I heard the loud sound of drums in the Kongsang Square. Thinking that it must have been him, I headed over to check it out.

DOUZHI : Welcome, everyone! Today I bring you a rare opportunity to fulfill your every dream!

A stage has been built in the square, Douzhi is standing in the center of it, banging on his drum as he speaks to the crowd over a microphone. Speakers blaring his voice for all to hear. There is a massive, colorful mural behind him that invokes a feeling of excitement. With another thrum of the drum, he continues his speech...

DOUZHI : Have you ever felt lost? Have you ever been unable to find ambition and direction?

The crowd subconsciously nods along.

DOUZHI : Then don't be afraid! Look here!

He points to the large mural. The words painted across it say : "Kongsang : Let your dreams soar; Douzhi has the power to set you free!"

DOUZHI : Kangsang! Allow my theater troupe to show you what it means to be alive! You will never be lost again! I will show you the way!

HAR-GOW : Woah! So impressive!

FOUR-JOY MEATBALLS : Master Douzhi! I have decided!

OPTION 1 : Decided what? HAR-GOW : Ah~ Young master! You're here. Master Douzhi is introducing his theater troupe to us! FOUR-JOY MEATBALLS : Yes, I've decided to join Master Douzhi's troupe. He said I'll be able to dance on the biggest stage and Har-Gow is going to sing!

OPTION 2 : What are you guys doing? FOUR-JOY MEATBALLS : We're listening to Master Douzhi's lecture! HAR-GOW : Master Douzhi is truly amazing! He set up a Theater Troupe 101 class here in Kongsang. He even said that I have great potential and can sing on the biggest stage in the world!

Upon hearing their excitement, Douzhi becomes somehow more energetic than before, speaking even louder.

DOUZHI : Those with time, come and see! Those without, make time! After listening to my words, success will no longer be unreachable!

The audience erupts in applause.

OPTION 1 : Drag Douzhi off the stage. DOUZHI : Ow! Hey! Hey! What are you doing!? I know you're eager to join my theater troupe, but can't we talk about it later?

OPTION 2 : Shout loudly to make Douzhi stop. DOUZHI : Alright, I heard you! Sheesh. With a voice that loud, you wouldn't even need a microphone. It's a pity you're not joining me in my speech! DOUZHI : Let me schedule our next meeting first!

DOUZHI : Sorry, everyone! I have something to attend to today, our next class will be scheduled for Thursday at three!

DOUZHI : What is this? You interrupted my speech because you got tickets to watch a theater troupe perform and you want to take me? I see! Then I gladly accept your invitation! It will also be a good opportunity to scout for new talents!

DOUZHI : Hmmm...The name on this ticket sounds familiar...Anyway, let's go.

DOUZHI : Excuse me. Do you know what play the theater troupe will be performing today?

AUDIENCE MEMBER : It's a signature play of the troupe, it's called the "Douzhi Chronicles." It's my first time watching so please keep quiet, the play is starting!

The plot of "Douzhi Chronicles," is a bit boring, but the actors on stage still manage to captivate the audience with their talents. On the small stage, a roller coaster of love and hatred unfolds.

The play ends and everyone stands to their feet and applauds. To top it all off, the servers bring out a bowl of Douzhi for all of the patrons.

AUDIENCE MEMBER : Wow! I didn't expect them to also serve Douzhi! That's a neat touch. I heard it's a traditional dish that their leader loves. Hm. It's pretty good. What about you, do you like it?

DOUZHI : Of course, I love it! I didn't expect them to serve one of my favorite dishes! Here, let's have a drink too!

Returning to Kongsang, I noticed that something about Douzhi's expression seemed...off. It was like he was lost in deep thought.

OPTION 1 : Douzhi, are you okay...? DOUZHI : O-Of course! I'm fine! No, not just fine, I'm doing great! In fact, genius that I am, has come up with a fantastic new idea! Just you wait and see!

OPTION 2 : Douzhi, what did you think of the play? DOUZHI : It was great! Not only great, but it also gave me a fantastic idea!

After saying this, he offered a swift bow before rushing back to his room for the night.

In the pitch-black morning, before the sun had even risen, someone vigorously knocked at my door. Yanking me from deep slumber. I let out a sigh and go to answer the door. Only to See Douzhi standing there.

DOUZHI : Hardworking people chase the sunrise at six in the morning. Only a lazy loser would lie in bed all day. Were you already awake?

OPTION 1 : Yes. DOUZHI : Good! That is to be expected of the young Master of Kongsang!

OPTION 2 : Guess I'm just a lazy loser... DOUZHI : ....? DOUZHI : You're always slacking off Master.

DOUZHI : Anyway, I came straight to you as soon as I finished working on my idea! It took all night but it's genius!

He pulls out a thick book, the binding and pages have been sewn together with a needle and thread. The cover is colorful, with large captivating fonts and a hand-drawn portrait of Douzhi. It is sure to instantly capture anyone's attention.

DOUZHI : Feast your eyes on this groundbreaking masterpiece! It's sure to be a success! My autobiography - "Dreams Deserve To Be Followed : Douzhi's Inspirational Life." Now, all I need is a foreword and some good promotion!

With that, he flips the book open and thumbs through the pages. Each one covered in colorful pictures. All of which catch my eye.

#The Tale Of Food #ttof #ttof story #ttof script #Otome #食物语 #食物語 #食物语新马版 #the tale of food story #ttof translation #the tale of food translation #Douzhi

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morgana-ren · 6 months

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What do you think your bastard three would make of Tomura?

Hilariously enough, there are AUs where they exist simultaneously... sort of. Think of Tomura as a 10-foot devil/king of Hell. Obviously, it's not actually Tomura, but it was a very creative au.

Tomura gave Snakefang (my first oc) to him as a 'gift,' which is funnily enough how they eventually ended up falling in love (after years and years and years of the Nightmare treatment, of course.) Nightmare worked on the inner council as an accountant of sorts as well as a consultant and basically just a very influential member of the upper echelon.

Nightmare worked for him-- and then murdered him. Reaver financed the revolution, which is something he never thought he'd do ever. Astarion helped lead the armies to put him down. The crown was passed to Nightmare. Nightmare had been scheming the entire time for the throne, and Tomura inadvertently handed him the opportunity. (It did not fucking help that Tomura was having sex with his sister and had taken her as a consort. He 'encouraged' it at first, but once it no longer benefited him? Tomura had to go.)

In the AUs where Tomura is just... Tomura? Vastly different opinion.

Nightmare would probably think about him much in the same way he'd think about me realistically. A listless, helpless layabout with too much anger and not enough ambition of our own. Nightmare had a wretched childhood (in hell, so you can imagine) and used that anger to fuel his ambition directly. He did what he had to do, no matter how filthy, how degrading, how terrible he felt doing it. He has very strict ideas on things and very little pity.

On a good day, he might see Tomura in himself, but would likely see his wanton need for reckless destruction as pointless. He'd encourage him to 'grow up' and point that anger somewhere effective and to bide his time growing his influence and figuring out what he really wants. Tomura is obviously being groomed and doesn't realize that, so he would look at AFO with disgust. He might encourage Tomura to break free from his influence and do what he needs to do to realize his ambitions (so long as it doesn't get in his way.)

Reaver would tell him to loosen the fuck up and enjoy life. All that hate and rage and for what? He's powerful, he can do whatever he wants and no one could stop him. What's there to be angry about? Society is unfair? It always has been. Get yourself on top of that society, mount it, and ride it like a fucking bull then.

At the best of times, Reaver would probably pity him. He would see him as a waste of potential. All that power hidden behind all that fury, too obscured to be fully realized. You want to destroy all of society? You destroy everything that makes it worth living then. Oh, you don't want to live afterwards? What a waste. Figure your shit out, child. Death is to be avoided, not aspired to. Reaver is the most likely to pull the Tyrion treatment and send Tomura some whores to enjoy in the hopes he'd calm the hell down once he discovered the joys of sex.

Astarion might sympathize with him the most. He knows what it's like to be victim to certain things. Cazador and AFO are obviously very different, but each one used them for their own means. Like Nightmare, he would encourage him to figure out what he wants, but also like Reaver, he would encourage him to find something worth living and battling for. Destroying the entire world might not bring the relief you think it will.

Astarion would probably be the one that could be the easiest to convince to allow Tomura into the fold. He'd look at him and see a young, angry fucking man, someone on the brink of exploding and taking everything down with him. That kind of power can be honed and sharpened. Tomura is a bright guy, and it would be a waste not to do something with that. Tomura never had anywhere to channel that rage but destroying everything, so Astarion would see the most potential in him.

Ilya would see him as amusing. He's so damned angry and just at the world at large. It's precisely the type of soul he would target just to watch some chaos ensue. He's not really going to form an actual opinion until he speaks to Tomura, and then he might actually have something of value to say.

Ilya was also shunned and decided to take back his power with violence. He'd understand in a way the others might not. He could probably be convinced to take Tomura on as some sort of apprentice to help him learn and understand the world and how to maneuver it without burning it to the ground. There's ways to get what you want without killing every living thing-- although sometimes, yes, that is necessary. He'd probably unleash Tomura for some destruction until he tuckered himself out and then begin his work of sharpening him into a fine-honed blade capable of being a violent political animal. He'd see a great asset and maybe a great friend-- once those edges were sanded down.

#morgana and friends #ilya the bastard #my ocs #the bastard three (or four)

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jirachis-tag · 2 years

Text

~Lysandre X Reader~

Word Count: 1175

Content:

Angst with a relatively good ending!

CW: mentions of blood and injuries. death is a primary motif.

Mentions of Past!Perfectworldshipping

Otherwise SFW

-Here Again-

Four broken fingers, three ribs, an arm, a leg, a foot. Numerous cuts and bruises, even a chipped tooth. Despite the pain, Lysandre was alive and breathing, all because of a few people's pleads. People he had betrayed, discarding their love as imperfect, tainted, dishonest and deceitful. And what was he like, standing in front of them, announcing his crime, if not just that?

He had been thinking for a while, wondering whether Xerneas's power changed him as a person as well. Would that be a good or a bad alteration considering that, in that case, he wouldn't have been the one to change himself?

Trying to recall the first memories after his awakening was a stronger ache than any of his physical injuries.

It was a sensation of your tears, falling atop of his cheeks like rain, mixing with the blood dripping down his face, staining your jeans. You were sitting down in the midst of the rubble, gravel and sand, just so you could have the head of your unfulfilled lover in your lap for a little while longer until the Professor calls the police. Lysandre had failed and got himself killed because of his own philosophies that led to terrible decisions.

Somebody important to the two of you was lost, leaving a gaping hole in your lives that you weren't sure was even worth filling up with grief due to what Lysandre had shown himself to be. Even after all of that, he was pitied enough to be given a second chance.

By Xerneas, no less.

In those moments, you were crying in-between all the trembling and sniffing, begging, pleading for him to wake up, not wanting to accept that he was dead just yet.

Augustine had his back turned to you, hand covering his eyes, too broken and hurt to even face him.

How could he, after all of your joined attempts to talk some sense into him, go through with it?

Some would call his embracing of death a heroic act, but to you it was simple treachery.

One of your hands caressed his messed up hair, the other holding his own, fingers tenderly locked, something you had wanted to do for so long, yet never could.

Few times have you tried confessing your feelings to him, your words getting stuck in your throat every time, immensely afraid that this man was going to reject you, find your admiration childish and the devotion you'd promise him not strong enough.

While rather intimidating to most, to you he was as charming as one can be, the simple sight of him tugging all of your heart strings at once. The way he had smiled at you when he first shook your hand left you in shambles. The next time it happened, you thought you'd combust, having fallen for Lysandre so hard that your entire thought process for the next few days was a blind game of mix and match.

It has to be infatuation, you tried to rationalize after having caught yourself getting distracted from work every ten minutes. But you couldn't help it, he had invited you to coffee mere hours before!

"I haven't seen someone be such a mess for Lysandre since the time I myself was like that!", Augustine exclaimed after hearing you out on your feelings, having sought advice.

"Why did you two break up anyway, Professor?"

"An eyebrow raiser for you, huh?", he laughed, "We had some different ideas and stopped getting along well, is all."

You weren't sure whether that was the whole story, but decided not to question much.

Lysandre's eyes always resonated with strong determination and ambition, something not many people are able to brag about. He didn't express his softer and friendlier side to just anyone, but he did eventually guide you into his small circle of friends, acknowledging mutual respect between you and Professor Sycamore.

Only then had you seen how full of ideas and enthusiasm he was, his gaze finally appearing trustworthy, reliable, honest.

You would melt at the smallest bits of attention he was giving you, but it never went anywhere past that, which made you slightly disappointed on the inside, but you figured it was an expected emotion to let thrive in that particular case.

Slowly but surely, Lysandre let his idyllic idea consume him to the point of madness, one of no return, where his vision was focused entirely on the mission he was "destined" to complete. All relationships he'd built became mere stepping stones, every word spoken by him was just another promise of his future success.

The vast field of life in his eyes drained away right in front of you that one day.

"Would you join Team Flare and help me achieve a perfect world? Together, we'd be an unstoppable force."

For the first time in his presence did you feel genuine terror. Your eyes widened and you could only whisper out one kind of response:

"You're insane."

His stare turned apathetic and hateful. He only nodded and kept quiet for a little while before changing the topic to something entirely trivial. Something you'd talk about with a stranger.

"I'm so sorry", you were whispering over and over again into his cheek, having bent down in misery, "Please wake up…"

Suddenly, you felt indescribably at ease. Your breathing became deep and clear, everything in sight appeared more vivid and somehow prettier. It was a serene state, something you haven't deemed a possible experience. You sat up straight.

"Professor?", you called out, but he was already fixated on a presence behind you, mouth slightly agape.

"Xerneas…", he gasped out.

You jerked your head backwards, eyes meeting with a blue snout that was gently being set atop of your own nose. It sensed your intense grief.

As surprised as you would've been, you didn't budge an inch. Bringer of life, they call it. Otherworldly.

Your eyes closed, heartbeat syncing with your mind, every muscle in your body simultaneously relaxing.

Xerneas knelt down beside Lysandre, appearing to be resting at first. However, on second glance, it seemed as if his chest was rising and falling, simulating breathing.

"N-no way… There's- There's no way-", your voice cracked back into sobs, pain strong enough to break the inner peace you were blessed with mere moments ago.

It was as if your soul left your body momentarily. Lysandre gasped for air, then started coughing as he had choked on some blood in his mouth.

Augustine yelled out something you didn't hear, nor could you, nor did you want to.

Lysandre was alive.

You basically screamed his name as your tired, weak arms desperately tried to embrace him with the last bits of your strength you mustered up.

You didn't want to move, and you couldn't speak, head buried into his neck, unable to physically be any closer.

Augustine had to forcefully pull you away from him when the ambulance arrived. He hugged you, in an attempt to comfort the both of you.

Tears didn't matter anymore, however.

He was there again.

#cw blood #cw death #lysandre x reader #team flare lysandre #pokemon lysandre x reader #lysandre pokemon #pokemon #pkmn #pokemon xy #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon reader insert #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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doshi-sukiru · 1 year

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The Jade Emperor is somewhat complicated? Like, he ordered Erlang's mother (his sister) to be killed for falling in love with a mortal, but spared his daughter for the same (Someone correct me if I'm wrong)

. . .

hold on-

So based off of what I've read online, Erlang Shen's mother (who was the emperor's sister, Princess Yaoji) was the goddess of desire in heaven, and was tasked with preventing gods from falling into their mortal urges such as love, greed, ambition, etc. When she went to stop a dragon in the mortal realm, she fell in love with a mortal man and had a family with him. This played as hypocrisy upon Yaoji's role in heaven, and was slaughtered for her actions along with her husband and one of their children (only Erlang and Yang Chan - another goddess - survived the attack). Of course there are different versions where Yaoji was trapped under a mountain and Erlang tried to save her, and there are different outcomes as to whether or not he actually saves her from death.

When it comes to his daughter however, he was a little bit kinder, but not that much.

So the emperor had three daughters, with one of them, named Zhinϋ or weaver girl, falling love with a mortal man - known as the cowherd. To summarize, Zhinϋ always bathed in a river in the mortal realm and used a magical robe to enter and leave the heavens. The cowherd noticed her bathing one day, fell in love, and stole her robe so she could not return. When she came out of the river, he took her and brought her to his home. The emperor noticed this, but did nothing as by then they had already been married. At some point she does get her robe back and she goes to visit her family in the heavens, but once she does the emperor seals the mortal realm for her. Zhinϋ ends up in distraught, and the emperor decides to let them see each other "once a year on the seventh day of the seventh month on the lunar calendar" after taking pity on them.

All I got from those two stories? When his sister fell in love he seemed to show more interest in sticking to rules and getting rid of those who could not. When his daughter fell in love - moreorless due to never being able to return back - he realizes how much this love meant to her and decided to give them a small chance of being together. But he still holds the idea of sticking to rules and having everything in balance as they should be.

So yes, he's complicated. Very complicated. Does that make him less of an asshole? No.

Saying it rn its his fault Erlang turned out this way-

Like can you imagine what we could have gotten if Erlang was raised properly by Yaoji? WE COULD HAVE GOTTEN A SWEET BABY BOY BUT NOOO "she broke the rules"-

If my opinion does sound offending towards Chinese culture and its history please tell me I will take this post down immediately

#ask #i don't think this is part of oboty #erlang shen #jade emperor #princess yaoji #zhinu #history

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sleepymarmot · 10 months

Text

The Favourite (2018)

[Watched on February 8th]

Me after one minute of dialogue: “Oh so it’s that kind of film, huh” (And by that I mean farce. I expected a straightforward drama!)

Not exactly my preferred style of filmmaking: something that revels in its own cynicism and We’re Telling It How It Is attitude, maintaining an emotional distance from the characters. Out of the three women, only Anne felt three-dimensional throughout the entire film, the other two started gaining depth near the end when they switched places in terms of not only power but also emotional sensitivity. The power plays were written with brilliance and nuance, but the characters were too busy engaging in these power plays to have interiority. It was difficult for me to maintain interest and investment in the characters because they kept acting exactly the way I expected them to act. The plot, on the contrary, felt unpredictable: until the very end I had no idea where it was going and which of the favourites would win, probably partially due to the film’s cold dry approach.

I came here to see the complex power dynamics between women and enjoyed them as expected, but something that took me by surprise was how well these personal power struggles were interwoven with the large-scale political intrigue. On another level, the same “political vs personal” theme that is at the heart of probably any story about a monarch was one of the few parts of the film that successfully evoked contradictory emotions in me. The dysfunctional system of government that deserves outrage versus the dysfunctional person at the top of it who deserves pity. The nightmare of such a person holding this enormous power versus the nightmare that is her actual life (versus the nightmare that are the lives of literally everyone else not afforded her position and resources).

The most striking instance of that “golden cage” being brought to the forefront is the scene where Anne reveals that she’s gone through 17 pregnancies only to have all of them result in stillbirths and child deaths, bringing Abigail to tears instantly. It’s a horror created by the intersection of Anne’s sex and class: royals who were not women couldn’t suffer in this way, and I assume that for women who were not royalty producing heirs was less of a priority.

The Favourite never forgets that its leads are women while not making a big deal out of it and avoiding the tiresome female character clichés. Best film I’ve seen recently in terms of female representation. The three main performances are all different and all great; Anne is the rawest and most nuanced not only in terms of writing but also acting — Olivia Colman fully deserved that Oscar. Another scene of hers I have to mention is the one where Anne has a meltdown and stumbles through her palace alone and disoriented; a moment of Shakespearean weight and intensity in the middle of all the ironic detachment.

Maybe it’s a consequence of the film’s cold tone, but it’s a surprise to me that, apparently, Rachel Weisz’s intent and many viewers’ interpretation is that Sarah genuinely loved Anne. I can see that Anne loved Sarah, that Sarah loved being Anne’s favourite and having power over her, and that the relationship that lasted most of Sarah’s life was essential to her identity, but not that Sarah had feelings for Anne that I would classify as “love” — at least throughout most of the film. I don’t buy it that Sarah’s brutal honesty is proof of her love. There’s a seed of truth in “[Abigail] wants nothing from [Anne], unlike [Sarah].” Both Sarah and Abigail want themselves to remain in power; but only Sarah has political ambitions and therefore wants Anne to act in a certain way. Sarah needs Anne to be presentable and enact specific policies; Abigail doesn’t care what Anne does as a queen, she just needs her own position to be safe. Sarah wants the Queen of England in her pocket; Abigail wants a spot at the top of the pecking order. That’s why the former disciplines Anne and the latter spoils her.

The ending wasn’t strong enough for my taste. It was mesmerizing to watch because of the great acting and the stylish direction, but the final interaction between Anne and Abigail didn’t tell me anything about their characters I hadn’t already known. By that time it’s already established that Anne sees through Abigail and that Abigail is tired of pretending to love Anne. A drawn out shot like that should be warranted by its strong emotional content, and this one didn’t hit the mark, in my opinion. Plus, the symbolism of the rabbits is too vague to be impactful; I’ve seen like five different interpretations and don’t have a strongly preferred one myself. The triple dissolve is an interesting visual, but I kept waiting for the final shot to recontextualize everything and make it click into place, and it never happened.

Just like the film never tries to pat itself on the back for focusing on women, it also never sensationalizes the sexual relationships between them, which I appreciate. They couldn’t possibly be replaced by m/f or m/m relationships without completely changing everything about the story and its political dynamics, but there’s nothing remotely resembling the present-day identity politics. It’s a conspicuous choice for such an eclectic film: the speech patterns, looks, and dances are meant to be anachronistic, but the same sex relationships aren’t. I don’t know if the attitudes in the film are actually historically accurate, but they at least seem so because of the absence of the familiar discourse points. Can you imagine any kind of sexuality-based solidarity between these three, or a position towards marriage not founded on pragmatism?

Speaking of marriage: Abigail’s wedding night is the funniest sex scene (if it even deserves to be called that) in my recent memory. The poor guy is fully blurred out in the background while the camera stays on a close-up of Abigail’s serious face as she obsessively monologues about her lesbian nemesis. Men’s rights to shut the fuck up indeed! It’s also a marker of Abigail’s character development. Previously she seemed to genuinely enjoy playfighting with the boy her age — a contrast to her fake affection towards and calculated seduction of Anne. Now she doesn’t care to even look at the same young man even though winning him as a husband was one of her biggest victories, because she’s consumed by her rivalry with Sarah.

By the way, I couldn’t tell that guy apart from the other man wearing heavy makeup and a giant wig, which made following the plot difficult at times. I also had to pause the film right at the beginning when I saw a maddeningly familiar face and needed to look up the actor, and it turned out to be Mark Gatiss of all people… Were other viewers also confused by the wigs and stuff, or am I becoming faceblind?

(Relevant: “Yorgos specifically said he wanted the women to have natural-looking faces and hair, he really didn’t want them to look like they got up every day and went to hair and makeup for several hours. He wanted them to have a natural, raw look about them, un-made-up with the hair having a naturalness to it. Normally films are filled with men and the women are the decoration in the background, and I’ve one many of those, so it was quite nice for it to be reversed this time where the women are the center of the film and the men are the decoration in the background. Of course, they’ve got serious, important parts, but I think the frivolity of them is quite funny.”)

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Other notes:

Shout out to all of Sarah’s outfits with pants. And her wild look with the hair down.

Another shout out to this moment: Anne to Sarah: Fuck me. Abigail: 🧍‍♀️

RIP to the emetophobes trying to watch this.

At some point last year, I tried to watch The Draughtsman’s Contract because I really loved the variations on the baroque music themes Michael Nyman wrote for the soundtrack. Had to turn it off after 10 minutes or so. The Favourite is like that one, but actually watchable!

Very satisfied with my watchlist planning so far: third film in a row about the intersection between age difference, illness, and love! Any other suggestions?

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A couple of interesting quotes from an essay I found after finishing and posting this review:

- “Abjection functions here [...] as mere accessory to the comedic coldness that is Lanthimos’s signature style. This is the problem with most of his films: despite the empathy that actors have for their characters, the hyper ironic and self-aware stylisation gives Lanthimos a smug authoritative ‘smartness’ over everything depicted onscreen.” — exactly what I was talking about in the beginning.

- “In contrast to the female characters of the film who wear relatively simple outfits and naturalistic makeup, the male actors are placed in exaggerated period drag that combines pompous wigs, stylised make-up and campy performances [...] At worst, The Favourite ends up perpetuating essentialising (and perhaps homophobic) binaries between ‘strong women’ and men whose weakness is conflated with their overt feminisation.” — something that didn’t occur to me but makes sense.

#the favourite #liveblogs and reviews #blah blah blah #lava klanka is watching you

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