#I just couldn't write it concisely :')

[the-pessimist-and-his-cat]

Hi! I wanted to ask you about something. We all know what Way did which left Babe heartbroken.. and it was horrible, but when Babe saw Way dying (yeah another “I’m alive bit*ch agenda”) he forgave him. But my question is, do you think that Babe forgave him because Way is his friend and deep down he believes that Way can be good person or he did that because he didn’t want to let him die? What if in first season Way would be alive, would it change anything? I mean would Babe behave differently or regret forgiving Way? I hope you know what I mean.. after knowing that Way is alive (as it seems to be) I’m curious what’s gonna be everyone’s reaction

Hello hello!

Funny enough, I read your ask before taking a shower, so I had ample time to think about it like any Maladaptive daydreamer.... debating and making speeches with myself in the shower :)

Be prepared for a loooong ass answer!

Let's get it out of the way (no pun intended) by clarifying one thing:

What Way did was horrible and disgusting. If he had stopped before Charlie's interference, then I would have forgiven him and be like "well, he at least snapped out of it", but he didn't, which meant if Charlie hadn't been there, he would have raped Babe and his justification for such an act was "I get you pregnant, daddy will be happy and leave us be" and I, as an audiance, be like "uhhh... then after the baby is born... then what? You just gonna give your child to Tony to sell it off or raise him like he did with ya'll???? Is that your master plan???" Soooo yeah. He deserves to receive such cold shoulders and insults from Babe and X hunter crew.

Now as for Babe....

It's both the reasons that you mentioned.

He didn't exactly forgive him fully; otherwise, we didn’t have that nightmare scene in the S2 trailer. It shows that Babe still has lingering fears and doubts and feeling betrayed.

I mean, having a very close friend where you considered a family that you didn't have (like Babe's father) or didn't get (like Tony). A brother that you shared ups and downs of your life with, the cheap dinners, the failed novice car racings, the heart-to-heart conversations... and to see that very dear person in your life not only lied to you, not only tried to rape you but mind controlled you into thinking that you are undeserving of having a real love, that everybody is out to get you, that you will be forever alone with just you and him against the cruel twisted world FOR THE PAST 10 YEARS..... gurl.. I.... the more I think about it... the more terrifying and heartbreaking it gets.

But the thing is... as a result of Way's manipulations and Babe's sad past, he's STARVING.

He wants to trust, he wants to love.

He hates to be manipulated and lied to. He hates betrayal....

And yet, he easily forgave Charlie when he hid his connection to Tony and Jeff. He easily forgave him when Charlie told him that he took his powers (see the parallels between Charlie touching Babe's skin to use his absorption powers and Way also doing the same with his mind control powers?) To be honest, that scene of Babe forgiving Charlie was a whiplash that I couldn't digest quick enough. (Sure, it could be lazy writing, but it also aligns with Babe's personality, which him being so starved for affection that he forgives with just a little push.)

Same thing with Charlie faking his death. Babe was just so glad that he didn't even care and forgave him!

Same thing with Babe's father! He didn't fully forgave him, but he hugged him because he was just so glad to have his dad back. The same dad who he was content to have a simple cold meal with because he at least had a family who gave him affection and wasn't alone.

Honestly, Babe is so tragic and vulnerable and beautiful that if he was real, I would have protected him to the death, even from Charlie (that boy did do some shady stuff and treated Babe like a child that couldn't be trusted with his secrets and plans so Charlie...dude... Babe gave you his heart fully... don't fuck it up in season two or else... 🗡 🙂)

As I said, it could be both of your reasons.

Having such a very close friend for 10 years and doing such horrible things to you won’t erase the loving and precious memories that are engraved in your heart and mind and Babe in that moment, when he thought that he lost Way, he forgave him (not fully) so that Way could see this and fight for survival, so that Babe doesn't loss the one brother, one family that he held above all. He even lied to him that he loved him after Way (seemingly) died so that maybe, just maybe, he opens his eyes.

He already thinks Way could go back to the same person he knew, a good loving being who listens to his rants and was with him through thick and thin and I truly believe if Way had been alive by the end of the finale, he still would have continued to forgive him. Sure, their relationship won't be the same anymore. There will never be unguarded smiles, late night cheap dinners, or heart-to-heart small talks, but they would meet (accidentally or through shared acquaintances) and acknowledge each other's presence with a polite nod (maybe even one or two unintentional banter between them) but that's about it.

As of now, if he finds out that Way is alive in S2.... it really really depends on what Way's agenda is and what actions Way takes.

THIS... this is what gonna make their relationship back to what it was (or something as close to it) or damage it beyond repair.

Sorry and thanks for reading this long ass answer :)

P.s. Way is as interesting as Babe because he has sooooo much layers of fucked up angst that's insane!

[bookwyrminspiration]

You really remind me of a girl I know called Isabella. You both talk a lot, not in a negative way though. In a way where you can talk for like 2 hours straight and I’ll still somehow be interested

This is so sweet of you thank you so much, like genuinely I'm unsure how to respond because I really appreciate this <33

I'm glad that my rambles are interesting! Because I do oh so love to keep going on and on about everything forever. I could probably find a bunch to say about basically everything. The natural state of the world is just me talking infinitely. Half of the time what I'm talking about is probably twilight if I'm being honest. I read the series and then my fate was sealed, and I was stuck, unable to escape from it. Kind of like vampirism

fun fact! my middle name at birth was Isabel, so while it's not quite Isabella when you said that I was like hey! kinda the same! same hat situation over here. though I don't wear hats because the feeling is strange, we can emotionally be wearing the same hat

that aside, I will continue to talk a lot! always got more to say about things and I am very very introverted irl so tumblr gets the brunt of my musings and just the random things that happen to me on a daily basis, I just gotta share!

seriously thank you for this, I absolutely love this comparison and compliment <33

[shiegra]

TEOM adaptation thoughts

I do also think that it’s fascinating that Till the End of the Moon is almost in a different subgenre, but despite the layers of changes they made I think the vast majority of them show either hard-pressed necessity or a genuine appreciation for and understanding of the strengths of the original text, that tries to keep those strengths incorporated in every change done for the new medium.

And I just think that’s dang cool to be honest.

Obviously it’s not perfect! But all the ways they find to take story elements they had to cut for time and weave them back into the changed story so that it’s economical but still hits the emotional beat the original carried is like. I wanna take notes lol. I feel like in noticing these I’m learning things to take back to writing first and second drafts.

FOR EXAMPLE, in the dream there’s a SECOND Big Misunderstanding where after the split and the one-sided reconciliation while he heals, Sang Jiu teams up with a random demon (because more people came into the dream in the book) and Ming Ye thinks she ~has someone else because he’s misled and it’s just d r a g g e d ON. In the show? They don’t overcomplicate it and they don’t add in unnecessary one dimensional characters with little relevance - their decision to combine two bland side characters into Scholar Pang was similarly FANTASTIC - they simply wrap that misunderstanding into the original awkward arranged marriage deception.

They hit the same story beat while eliminating story bloat and actually adding in extra nuance - because the arranged marriage in the show was told in a more linear fashion and he opened with ‘we can separate if you find someone you actually love and want to marry, I understand neither of us wanted this.’

This being a pre-existing thought lends more credence to the idea that he would be fooled and more melancholy to the idea that now he’s in too deep but doesn’t want to renege on his promise to her at the start.

Somewhere in my head is like ‘make mental note: remember this tactic for attempted use in your own second drafts’ lol. Which is something I should have already known but sometimes having a concrete example to fall back on helps the brain process IMO.

[buckys-little-belle]

Im scared to but my first Barbie, but I really want one! Sooooo bad. Can you maybe write Steve and Bucky meeting a she/her reader in the Barbie spot in a store and being nice to her? Maybe buying her a Barbie and some clothes? And they are just nice?

Barbie Aisle Buddies

Stucky x Shy!Little!Reader (She/Her Pronouns Used)

Warnings - The reader is generally a worry wart so she has a bit of 'panic' and worry during this fic, it gets resolved by the end and fluff ensues after her worry.

Notes - I honestly pulled inspiration from a fic I had written a while ago about a shy reader in a toy aisle, so I hope it's okay that I made the ready shy. This is also pretty short! But also so cute!!! Also I know it can be scary going to a store and buying toys but I promise you it's okay! I have bought so many Barbies and Barbie toys like clothes, and I described a Barbie I own in this story! Don't let worry eat you up, go buy the Barbie! Trust me when I tell you it's worth the worry, having fun dolls that I get to play with and dress up is so fun and I don't regret getting them! You only live once bubba, don't let the worry get you down for too long! I hope you get a Barbie soon!!! <3

SFW - Keep all interactions with the post, and this blog, SFW!

. ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ .

Y/n had been hyping herself up for a month now. Twenty dollars in her pocket, and a determined state of mind were all she had as she walked up and down the Barbie aisle of her local grocery store. It was a small selection of dolls, yet so overwhelming at the same time.

Some dolls had different jobs, chef, doctor, fashion designer. Others had fancy outfits or animal sidekicks. It was hard to pick just one doll, but seeing as she only had enough money for one doll, she knew she had to pick just one.

"Hello." A man's voice broke through her overthinking, a man stood just a few feet away, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, some worn out sneakers on his feet. He looked familiar, though Y/n couldn't place just where she had seen him before. "I'm Steve." He smiled, turning to look at the same shelf she had her eyes on previously. "It's hard to pick one, isn't it?"

"Um." Y/n panicked, trying to remember the excuse she had made up regarding why she was in this aisle. Did she land on 'getting a toy for a friend's kid' or 'I have a birthday party to attend'?

"Steve!" Another man's voice called out. This time a man dressed all in black, combat boots and gloves included, planted himself a few feet away. "Hi there, Doll." He smiled, Y/n couldn't help but smile back, the man's charm winning her over. "Which one do you have your eye on?" He asked as he scanned the shelves, hands crossed over his chest, looking at the plethora of choices like he too was thinking about getting one.

"Oh, I'm not, I'm just, you know, a, I don't, I." Y/n began stuttering, trying to get out an excuse, any excuse, to make them believe she wasn't buying a Barbie doll for herself.

"Dolls don't have an age, Doll." The man without a name chuckled. "If you're looking for a Barbie to play with I would suggest one that comes with a few items." He began pointing to a few sets she had looked at, but sets that were over her budget.

"I like this one." Y/n quickly grabbed a doll she had her eye on. She was a chef and came with a pan and what looked to be a fried egg. She had a chefs hat and coat, and looked fun enough, but the biggest pull was it was the only doll with accessories that was in her price range.

"She'll need some everyday clothes." Steve squatted down to a lower shelf, rummaging through some small containers for a set of clothes.

"I can't, I just. This is all I can get." Y/n smiled with a hint of self conciseness. Admitting you didn't have a lot of Barbie money to strangers wasn't the end all be all, but at the same time it still felt extremely venerable.

"Well, Doll." The unnamed man with a smile full of charm spoke again. "It's your lucky day then." He pulled the cart Steve must have brought closer to the shelf. "Pick whatever you want."

"What?" Y/n shook her head taking a step back, confused as to what he meant.

Steve was the one to speak up this time. "You don't know who we are, I'm guessing." His smile was softer, more gentle. "I was formally known as Captain America." The truth felt like a weight had been lifted off Y/n's shoulders, her happy to know that she wasn't crazy for thinking he looked familiar.

"And I'm his sidekick, Bucky Barnes, formally known as The Winter Soldier." Mr Unnamed added on.

"Oh." Y/n nodded her head, taking in the two men, even more confused as to why they were wasting their time in a local stores Barbie aisle with her. "Sorry for bothering you."

Y/n was ready to dash with her doll, worried that the super soldiers she just met would grow tired of her quiet demeanor. "Doll." Bucky called out, his voice commanding yet it still had a joking tone to it. "Come back here and pick at least four things."

"Buck." Steve whispered loudly.

"Steve." Bucky said back, his tone condescending. "Doll, please let us but you some dolls. It would make our day." She still hadn't turned around and had half a heart to run, yet for some reason she turned around and took a good look at the shelf.

There really were some sets she'd love to have, like the farmers market stand and a little dog set, and Steve was right, her doll needed everyday clothes. "You won't make fun of me?" She asked, worry surrounding each word.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Steve put his hand over his heart, an action that made her giggle.

"I'm Y/n." She finally gave them her name, a small smile breaking past her worried expression.

"It's nice to meet you, Y/n." Bucky and Steve said at the same time, the three of them laughing.

"Which outfit do you think your doll would look best in?" Steve held out a few options, letting Y/n ponder over them as Bucky tried to convince her to pick the Barbie camper as one of her choices, as if she had a spot for such a big play set.

"I like this one." She pointed to a package that help a blue dress, pick shirt, and jean skirt. The shoes were cute too, and she got excited at the idea of dressing her doll in the outfit.

So there they all stood, Steve and Bucky trying to convince Y/n to get super expensive things, and Y/n trying to figure out how she got so lucky to have two super soldiers worrying over her new doll collection.

[captainjoongki]

not to sound like an annoying karen, but i honestly, truly feel that netflix has fucked up the kdrama genre for good.

just 10-ish years ago, there were kdramas that the big 3 korean channels (SBS, MBC, KBS) would broadcast and then there were kdramas that the main cable channels (jTBC and tvN) would broadcast. and between those groupings, you got everything. you got 16-20 episodes of dramas that had heartfelt writing, filmed with bright colors, filmed with concise plots, that most of the time, ended WELL. you got a GOOD ending that was complete. the works felt authentically south korean. yes, there were cheesy tropes and moments that made you cringe, but it felt so real. and you had SO many kdramas airing during the week! you couldn't keep track of just how many!

cut to netflix coming in and making it big with kdramas with squid game and some romantic works and then suddenly they (and disney+) are making these short kdramas, less than 10 episodes, with generic filters, generic plots, and poorly written scripts that are just mere shadows of what kdramas used to be. they end shitty 90% of the time. and worst of all, they feel like american shows. and no, i don't mean sex scenes or action scenes because hey, i love change there, but i mean the entire VIBES are just off. they're not the kdramas i fell in love with, the ones that felt so human. and thanks to these big, foreign companies coming in, the main broadcast channels have basically shut down 1/2 their timeslots, and so many dramas aren't even getting aired these days.

yes times change progress is great robots will probably replace us all in a few years blah blah, but it's really depressing to me personally since i have such fond memories of the utter joy of kdramas, especially from the golden era of 2008-2017. and while there are some that escape the netflix!americanized! curse, it's unfortunately the majority that remain nothing but commercial puppets, rather than authentic entertainment.

[deafsignifcantother]

the baby

♥ summary: almost loosely based off of this by @ukor02. This is really just a small little writing thing I did at 4am. ♥ relationship: no direct romance really, just some cute stuff between Lucifer and reader. ♥ word count: 1.6k ♥ notes: no childbirth mentioning and this is written like just as summaries of the situation tbh, almost like a bullet point format without the bullet points, the entire cast are characters, hospital scene, I made Alastor a main character and her main bestie because of course I did, reader is happy to be a mother

You wanted to give your baby a chance to get into Heaven, even if it meant they'd leave without you. Hell is no place for a child. Both you and Charlie knew that.

.

"What a pleasant surprise," you sign to Alastor when you see that damn smiling demon right outside your hotel room.

He laughs; aw, you're describing his arrival as pleasant. Did he make a good impression on you when you saw him last when he introduced himself in person in Pride Sign Language? You never seemed to have paid any mind to him, giving one motion signs as responses whenever he tried starting a conversation. But even when you interacted with him like that, he couldn't help but wonder why you always looked at him with your sweet, shy gaze. It's not on purpose, which is the worst part.

Pleasant, you called it a pleasant surprise.

"It's good to see you too, my dear!" He signs, bowing a bit and pushing past you into your room. "What have you been up to?"

What an obnoxious question.

You close the door, squeezing the doorknob tightly. This is going to be a long evening. When you turn back to Alastor, he's in your living room examining the decor, your random art pieces taped to the walls and organized together, though not concisely.

He waves his hands. "I love what you've done with the place."

"I've been bored." You sign with a slight nod to yourself. It's awfully isolating, which is obvious. Still, it has never hit you as hard as it does now as you watch another person walk through your chambers.

"I'm glad I can be in your company then." His smile widens, and the static he emits gets heavier. His ear twitched a bit, which you noticed but tried not to directly look at. Was it a good or bad thing?

"But it's often relieving to be alone," you start and look him up and down.

"You're quite used to being alone, aren't you?"

Your lips tighten, your hands stiff, and you are unable to finish your sentence. Absentmindedly, you rest them on your plump, pregnant belly. Alastor does his best not to let his eyes draw down to analyze it. Still, his head tilts, even just a little. He hates looking at your hands when you touch your stomach. Did his mother hold her belly like that when he was inside of hers?

"Don't you have others to talk to?"

"They're out on their little journeys, you know them."

"Of course."

Alas, he lets his eyes trail down to your stomach. It's not quite full, but it's obvious enough to gain attention from others. Charlie will put her hands on it every day, waiting for the baby to show its presence. She can feel the heartbeat, and so can you and Vaggie, though everybody else can't feel a thing. Alastor refuses to put a hand on your stomach. Life is precious and loud, and the few who were never human understand that differently than the others.

"I wanted to check in on the baby."

A twitch of your eyebrow makes his smile widen.

"Why?"

.

The day before, Lucifer arrived.

You try on your best clothes, laying them flat against your front, looking at your belly in the mirror. For the king, should you try to hide it or show it proudly? He has a daughter, but does that affect his thoughts about Hellborn pregnancies? Gosh, what do you have to worry about? So stupid.

With the other people, your new friends, you stood with your head proud.

He swirled with the dragons and hugged his daughter as if he hadn't seen her for years. What a kind man, unusually kind. His eyes... Those soft, precious eyes. And when they landed on you, your heart almost stopped. He looked at you as if you were an angel. When his lips started to move, the smile you didn't even know you wore faded.

Charlie put her hand on his shoulder and whispered something to him. And there came Alastor, saving the day.

"The idiotic king was just telling you how happy he is for you." With the signs came the grinding of his teeth.

Lucifer approached, his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. He addressed Alastor with aggressive hesitance. 'Tell her...' he said.

Charlie smiled excitedly, Nifty kept nodding, and Sir Pentious's eyes started tearing up.

Alastor grimaced. "He's asking if he could feel your stomach."

As always, you've put a thorn in the flow of interactions.

Still, you put on a smile. "Of course."

And there you stood, the King of Hell's hands gently holding you. You could feel the cold of his touch even through the fabric of your shirt. The heartbeat vibrated through both your body and his. The baby was alive and well; you could tell through the pure glee that spread across his face. Beyond your tiny ounce of worry, you knew he'd find hope within your baby.

Alastor watched with a terribly strained smile.

.

"Why?" You ask again when he doesn't answer. "What's with the sudden worry?"

"Worry? No, no." Alastor waves you off. "More like..."

You watch with interest as he trails off, a vulnerability you love.

He squints his eyes and clenches his fists, but only for a moment. His lack of vocabulary kills him. "...Intrigue."

You crack a smirk. "Are you finally gonna feel my stomach?"

Another pause. Alastor considers it, but all he can imagine is his claws accidentally drawing blood.

"No."

"That's okay." Again, your hands rest on your stomach.

.

Alastor has been watching it grow, but so has Lucifer. Charlie's father scarcely visits, and you've convinced yourself it's to see you. Every time he enters the hotel, he asks how you are. He tries to lift his hands to sign but finds no words forming. A language was created in his world, and he has yet to learn how to learn it.

Whenever he presses his hands against your belly, he can feel the liveliness of the soul forming inside you, and he can feel your appreciation at his care.

Begrudgingly, he always has to ask Alastor for advice on communicating with you. Alastor always has a cocky smirk when he teaches.

Charlie has to ask Alastor for help, too, but more willingly. Alastor raises his chin and squares shoulders when people ask him for help. Charlie went to him for help on a conversation you knew she was going to start with you:

"You're not going to stay here for the battle."

"I know." There was no argument on your behalf. Charlie's cheeks still went pink.

"But I have to figure out where it's safest for you. Alastor told me Cannibal Town, but uhh... Maybe not."

"They'll all be here anyway. Maybe they'll distract the angels from going over there."

Her bright eyes widen a bit. "Do you think so?"

"I can stay over there, even if they try to eat me." They won't, and even if they try, they know Alastor would end their lives, don't they?

She fiddles with her fingers before lifting them up again. "I suppose..."

She's so quickly convinced it's cute. You're right, though, of course. Cannibal Town might be the safest place, specifically under the hands of Rosie, who Alastor had previously told you would be more than willing to help you. You can imagine her smile at seeing your belly, twice the size as when Alastor first told you about her. Unbeknownst to Charlie, he's been planning this for a while.

Your stress for their safety irks you more than you expected.

You place a hand on Charlie's, lifting your other one. "I'll be okay."

Before you left for Cannibal Town, you met Lucifer once again, a more loving side of him. He cradled your head and held the back of your neck as he did. His cold body felt like warmth to you. He whispered things to you; you could only tell from how his breath constantly brushed against your ear in sing-songy waves. Was he singing to you? A lullaby? He pulled away and finally signed to you. "You're going to be a great mom."

A moment before, Alastor finally put his hands on your belly. His hands were warm. Like Lucifer, he was whispering to himself, holding silent words from you. In another life, you'd imagine they were prayers. At that moment, only an instinct, you put your hands on his, and he allowed it.

The stress of their safety worsened when they were left alone in Cannibal Town without a word of winning or losing.

The winning of Hell was all you wanted to focus on when you noticed the contractions getting worse, spaced out in purposeful ways. Oh goodness, you found yourself thinking, oh my God.

What if Lucifer dies on the same day your child is born?

But after the battle, he was right there to cradle the baby in his arms, his heavenly grasp relaxing the tiny baby. The rest of the group sat in your room, Sir Pentious absent, tears in their eyes at both the birth and the death.

Beyond Lucifer's cradling, Husk was the only one who touched your child that day. He placed his furry paw against the baby, feeling the body heat that they admitted. Life could be beautiful, he decided.

Vaggie's sense of revenge deepened. She sacrificed Heaven to save a child, and now she's even more than willing to kill her sisters to save yours.

While Charlie stares at your baby with tears, Alastor smiles warmly at you. He knew you could do it: birth something beautiful and worth protecting.

Your eyes are locked on Lucifer. He's an amazing, supportive dad to Charlie, and your heart begins to swell. Your heartbeat increases, and a blush weakly forms on your already flushed face. His rough hands hold a forgiving softness. He's beautiful.

[gatitties]

Heyy first of all I love ur Tokyo revenger fics! I was wondering if u write Bonten Sanzu x fem! Reader with mommy issues? She fights s lot with her mom and Sanzu finding out and comforting her? Tyy

─Bonten!Sanzu x fem!reader

─Summary: You decide to end your silence, seeking help from the person who has spent years in your life, this whole arguing situation was making you desperate.

─Warnings: none

─ You don't know at what point in your life the arguments with your mother began, but they persisted until your adulthood.

─ Your father figure was simply either not present, or did not have his own voice to take one side or the other, so it was always a tug of war between you and your mother.

─ Although everything was at times, you could go months without arguing with her, and one random day argue and not talk for a couple of months until one of you two gave in.

─ You felt so bad about this whole situation, that sometimes you turned to other people to escape from home in your adolescence.

─ You met Sanzu when he was still in Toman and, oblivious to the entire criminal underworld, you became entangled with him when Bonten was formed.

─ Even if you didn't like what he did, it would destroy you emotionally not to have anyone to help you even if you no longer needed to run away from your parents' house.

─ Of course, you decided not to tell anything about your problems at home, despite having been together for years, you thought it was too personal to tell Sanzu, just as he only told you what he wanted about his band.

─ There came a point where you couldn't stand it anymore, some of your mother's comments towards you were painful, even when you no longer lived with them, the visits became a punishment.

─ Your relationship with Sanzu became closer and you began to depend a little emotionally on him, romanticizing small aspects of your life together, which led you to live with him.

─ And, therefore, you ended up exploding one day, being a sobbing mess while recounting how bad your mother sometimes made you feel, the hurtful comments, and the absurd arguments.

─ Sanzu canceled the plan to go out to one of the Haitani brothels and stayed all night listening to you get rid of a sentimental weight.

─ He's not the best at comforting people, he definitely wasn't good with words, especially now that his life consisted of threatening and not reassuring, but he made the effort just for you.

─ It was brief and concise, it didn't make all your worries disappear instantly, but it served for now, you clung to him like a lifeboat since what you knew as family was little by little removed from your life for your own good.

─ Sanzu suggested you make a 'personal visit' with some of his friends because of all the problems they had caused you, but now that he also decided to open up about his work, you decided that you would simply change your lifestyle.

[astralnymphh]

born of flora and fauna | teaser I. ellie williams

knight!ellie x princess!reader

an; thought I would bestow a little excerpt from my prologue for this fic, cause the preluding alone needs its own teaser. plus, a little moodboard for it! this would count for the prologue only, as it's set in the wintertime and then progresses into spring. just a note this series is a bit more fantasy leaning than pinpoint history accurate (mainly in clothing department) but I'll still be including some realism into it. expect some.. complicated n poetic writing.

༻⋆the excerpt;

a vividness to her movements, flowing like a river. for it is water that soothes the most cosmic fires, carves veins into the earth's soil, descends from the heavens above and proves iron soluble. a knight so pinpoint and poised like a painter, yet so daring and baneful like a warrior of evenfall. an artisan of her craft, ellie was. born to thrive in matters regarding protection of her kingdom and its nobility.

you were a daughter of the illustrious king and queen, sister of your highly revered and cherished kin, prudence. subsequent to her fabled rise, was your fall. down-spiraling in neglect and a corroding shame that you couldn't fulfill the duties of a courteous princess. wickedness wasn't necessarily your play of folly. rebuking the role of royalty isn't your entire bastion of vengeance. you purely long for a world of your own color. your self-brewn arcadia of art. in a concise phrase, desire for sovereignty.

' why don't you resemble your sister more? '

upon this midwinter day, steel clashes and clanks with the marching of castle guards en route to their designated patrol sites just beyond the barrier of the throne room. braziers birthing a cordial flame glowing with a saffron ember, balls of warmth to resign a frigid numbing along the stone pillars surrounding the epicenter. the rabble of townsfolk forked into two large columns in the palatial hall afore the platform of the royal family, gossiping amongst themselves at the event taking place.

you are aligned in royal seating adjacent to your mother and fathers throne, crossed legs pleating your tunics' billowing skirt, seemingly stoic poise contrasting your usual gestures of criticism and resentment. a flurry of knights in waiting present themselves individually before the nobility, emanations of each one's virtues and brawns scrutinized in one sweeping glance of the majesty himself, to which the mass of them were not up to par.

on comes a figure, shrouded by a leather fitting of attire compared to the other bodies of steel and chain before them, a smooth cloak of basil green silk embroidered with their respective house symbol in yellow; a moth, and a face hidden by the iron nature of a helmet. as every knight has shown oneself to the king, so do they, forcepping the helm with a gauntleted grip to reveal a face blemished by the trudging of time and battle, freckles mimicking the color of almonds, lips like a coral rose bud and hair painted of the most earthly russet you've ever bore sights to. except, there was one asset that sucked you right into her indirect gaze, circlets of green, like a willow tree's canopy of shrubbery, green, like the vernal springscape of the earlier year, an ethereal green, a hue no soul has ever seen before.

༻⋆the moodboard;

hope yall are excited as I am!!! 💗 this is the first draft of a portion of my prologue so you may see some additions or changes.

[lifeiskentastic]

plsplspls write more sebastian fluff <33 i love ur writing sm

sorry for taking so long(

gn!Reader leads a drunken Seb out of his bar

Gif by @dilfgifs

A/N: Thank you all for your replies, you are so sweet 😭😭 I would reply to every single one of them but I started this blog as a side blog just to post one fic and I never thought it would go this far… anyway, thank you sm!

Summary: A friend (but not for long) Reader helps Seb after he gets drunk in his own bar;

Word count: small but concise 360 words;

Thanks for y'all again!

"How did you manage to get drunk in your own bar?"

Seb's head jerked around on your shoulder, nearly knocking you both to the ground. Still, it was a bit impractical to carry a drunken, grown man on the neck.

"I'm not drunk at all..."

The light laughter that followed these words indicated the opposite.

"Tell me that tomorrow morning."

After all, now that your friend had decided to drink himself into oblivion in his own bar, you would have to take care of him until the sun came up, until the first sober thought entered his head.

You would have been walking quietly through the empty, deserted park with Sebastian hanging on your shoulders, if not for the suspiciously strange silence from someone who had just spilled an entire bottle of whiskey into himself.

"Are you okay?"

You stopped and cautiously looked over your shoulder, meeting Seb's floating, mindless eyes.

"You look beautiful."

You blushed instantly, but kept your eyes on Sebastian. It's not that he's never complimented you before, it's just that right now he seemed so sincerely uninhibited and honest that your heart had to flutter.

"You too."

Seb's satisfied smile tripled in size. He relaxed his head on your shoulder, watching you from under his half-open eyelids.

There was something special about walking through the starry park at night, with the pungent smell of alcohol around Sebastian and his loving gaze fixed only on you.

You wonder how much of this will remain in Seb's memory after he sobered up? Well, judging by his sly look, he clearly knew how to keep that beautiful moment in his head.

"You're not that drunk, are you?"

"Oh." Sebastian's hands, which you had been holding to prevent him from accidentally losing his balance while faking drunkenness, closed on your cheekbones. "How did you manage to expose me?"

"You're a terrible actor." Although, in fact, you were glad that Seb's words and actions were done in good faith and with full understanding. "I can't believe you made me drag you."

"Ha-ha, I'm sorry, I was just enjoying it too much."

You couldn't help but agree.

P.S. Oh, what a plot twist!

[redisaid]

Beneath the Blue Moon - Chapter 10

Blue

Whew, it's been a while huh? I've sat on a draft of this chapter for months that I wasn't happy with because it did not match with my original plan to make it more confrontational. But I just couldn't get it there because the girls were too tired and sad to fight. What a mood.

Anywho, I'm gonna roll with this as is, though it's changing the tone of the story to be a tad bit more pensive. Expect a new poll soon for chapters 11 and 12.

5073 Words

Read it on Ao3!

Change for better or for worse Move much deeper to immerse Drape your spirit in the words Some kind of ghoul Small exception to the rule

It was hard to express what she felt in words. Sylvanas was always a woman of action. Her state of being was one of action. She preferred to show her love rather than tell of it. She enjoyed fussing over finding and then giving the perfect gift. She found herself addicted to the light that would kindle in Jaina’s eyes when she showed her something new or interesting—not to mention the hitch of her breath, the keening whine that would slip past her teeth as Sylvanas showed her new pleasures in bed.

Sylvanas was simply not meant for writing flowery letters, sealed with pressed flowers and perfume, in lieu of all that. If Jaina expected as much for her, she would be sorely disappointed. Her writing skills were better utilized in direct and concise military reports. Those she could easily churn out.

Yet a letter to her soulmate was a struggle.

Clea sat swinging her legs upon the great gilded mahogany desk of the Ranger General, offering little in the way of helpful advice. “You’re quite lucky she’s stuck with you, you know.”

“Your confidence in me is truly inspiring,” Sylvanas drawled back at her.

Even her famous wit and verbal stings were a thing that needed playing off of. If Jaina were here, she could easily have her laughing her pretty little laugh within minutes, and watch as her eyes widened and an intrigued smirk formed on her lips at the continuous, rapid pace of their banter. But Jaina was not here. Her soulmate was off playing nice with the arrogant fop that was Prince Arthas Menethil, somewhere in the great pine forests of Lordaeron.

And Sylvanas was stuck here in her offices in Silvermoon, trying to write a love letter in between mountains of other paperwork. But, when all was said and done, she was quite terrible at saying how she felt. She would much rather show it.

In fact, if Jaina were here, Clea would be politely asked to leave the room so she could show it in the way she truly wanted.

Instead of pouring forth her very soul through her quill, Sylvanas was left to look toward the wrist of the arm that held it instead—to the soft glow of the soulmark that Jaina had lit for her. In her mind, Jaina was there too, a quiet presence of focused intensity. She was thinking about something. She was often thinking like this. Imagining what puzzled her today always brought a smile to Sylvanas’ face, sometimes when one wasn’t necessarily warranted from a woman who had earned a reputation as a stern but fair General.

It was then that Velonara walked in with a stack of even more reports for her, and Sylvanas knew that with her, all hope of getting her thoughts out onto paper today had left the room.

“Good afternoon Ranger General, Ranger Clea,” Velonara said with a mocking air of formality that disappeared as she slapped the stack of paper onto what little surface area of the desk remained uninhabited by other work or Clea’s backside. “Pray tell, what requires so much of your rapt attention on this fine afternoon?”

“I caught her writing to her pretty mage and decided to help,” Clea announced before Sylvanas could even try to think of an excuse. “It’s not going well.”

“Tell her she has nice tits,” was Velonara’s sage advice.

“That’s the first thing I said,” Clea informed her.

It had, indeed, been the first piece of advice Clea had given. And while true, it did not help.

---

What seemed like entire lifetimes later, Sylvanas stood upon the cliffs above the twisting wreckage of stone and mana that was once Theramore, once again lacking for words.

The space between her and Jaina might as well have been filled with such cursed rubble itself. It felt just as tainted and impenetrable. A canyon miles wide—a distance too far and too treacherous to be crossed, or to even consider crossing.

But Sylvanas was here. She was here and she was whole again but dead. She was here to offer the crumbling remains of what she once was back to a woman who had become so much more than she could have ever imagined in these intervening years. Jaina was an Archmage. She was a leader of nations three times over. She had conquered and defended. She had both lost and won so much and lived to tell the tale.

All the while, Sylvanas had been dead. Walking, talking, but dead. How could she explain it all, when back in those happier times, without war and apocalypse threatening at every turn, she couldn’t even express her budding love for her pretty Kirin Tor apprentice?

Now, to the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, she stood like a stone, unable to speak, unable even to begin to go through the list of things she’d thought to speak on, the apologies she prepared, the explanations that had been so clear to her when she’d muttered them as she paced through the Warchief’s chambers in Orgrimmar, hours before.

“I’m—”

“If you’re about to say you’re sorry again, save it,” Jaina stopped her before the second word could even enter into existence.

Only she was very sorry. It was hard to be anything but sorry. Surely, Jaina could feel it thrumming along their bond. If Sylvanas’ heart still beat, she would likely feel that too—the panic, the deep, twisting guilt.

Even Theramore was something she could blame herself for, though it was Garrosh who used the bomb. Still, she had not stopped him. She had not risked it all to defy him. And though strategically, it would have been utterly foolish to attempt it, standing here, watching the arcane scar upon the land that was once a bustling settlement twist and rot all the more, Sylvanas felt as though she should have tried.

Had Jaina thought of that, when she chose this venue for their meeting? Had she wanted to rend more grief from her, more guilt?

It was hard for Sylvanas to say. The woman who she had once loved was just as much a thing of the past as the cocky Ranger General of Silvermoon. Jaina was just as changed by her losses, just as scarred, and just as hard to read for all of it. The setting sun and the swirling arcane mixed their glows in the white of her hair—violet and orange. She looked aflame for it, and her eyes burned too, demanding.

So Sylvanas had to think of something to answer them. Some words, though none would ever be good enough. She started with a question, “You wanted to know why I wished to meet?”

It took a moment for Jaina to offer a simple nod in return, as though she considered leaving just then, finding all this unsatisfactory. But, her feelings as they traveled over their bond spoke a different story. Sylvanas focused on these instead, taking every ounce, every fiber of the intrigue, the hesitancy, the worry, and that little shred that might be wanting.

That, she could certainly understand. She wanted nothing more than to reach out to Jaina. To hold her to her chest. To breathe in the fire of sun and magic that played on the soft white of her hair. Even her gold had been stolen from her.

“I need you, Jaina,” Sylvanas explained. “I need your support. I need you to understand that I am truthful in what I say about the Jailer, the realms of death, and that I have everything to lose for it if I’m wrong. We all do.”

She watched Jaina stiffen at this. The words took their time in washing over her, and Jaina let them echo beyond her into the wreckage, and into the sea beyond before she deigned to respond. “Surely you did not retrieve your very soul from hell then, so you say, to ask for an alliance?”

“No,” the word echoes hollow. Putting that into words does it no justice. Yes, Sylvanas sliced her soul free from the very fingers of the being who kept it prisoner. She did it for so many reasons. She did it for her freedom. She did it because she was missing a part of herself. She did it, too, for love.

But Jaina did not look at her with love. Her eyes were hard, crystalline. They too sparkled with flecks of dying sun and untamed magic.

“I did it for myself,” Sylvanas answered honestly. “And for Azeroth. The things the Jailer asked of me seemed cunning and clever in the beginning. He had a plan. He offered me what I wanted, what I needed, and did not ask for much. It all seemed so clear in the beginning. Death is a cruel and broken thing, and he would free us from it.”

That too, was difficult to explain. What could she tell Jaina of that first death of hers? Of leaping from Icecrown hoping for release—hoping for an end to the mockery of life that still preserved her, only to find terrifying nothingness, then Zovaal, looming. He showed her the unfairness of it—the loss of self, the lack of rest.

Worst of all was when she asked, pleaded, begged him to see her family again—mother, father, Lirath—to know that they were resting safely somewhere would bring her the most peace she’d known since she was alive with Jaina in her arms, listening to her bare her burdens, her loneliness since their loss. But there were no such people left for her to meet. No, Zovaal had told her, what remained of the souls that were once half of her immediate family would not know her anymore. They would not judge her for all she’d done. They would not welcome her to run with them in the great hunt, as elven mythos would often picture the afterlife. No, they were perhaps an angel with blue skin, a trickster faun, a plotting vampiric courtier, a proud gladiator, a thousand other things, or even just loose, aimless anima. The person they had once been was gone. They would not know or remember her, for better or for worse, ever again.

Anything, it had seemed, was better than enduring the cruelty of that fact, and to bear the idea that it was the same for every soul that had ever been willed into existence. To be tied so deeply to others in life—only to lose them forever in the eternity of death? It was beyond cruel. And worst of all, that part was entirely true and real, and not just one of Zovaal’s lies.

It had been easy to dwell on that. Even missing half of her soul, it had been hard to follow the agenda to put an end to it when it dragged on and on, seeming just as cruel.

It had been impossible for her to follow it any longer as it directed her to hurt Jaina.

“No doubt you heard what I explained yesterday aboard our ships. No peace awaits us in death. He had promised me a way out. His domination magic made it seem so convincing, so clear. But I began to have my doubts that it was possible, that such a solution was even what he was driving me toward. Those doubts were solidified when he asked me to raise your brother, willing or not, and turn him against you,” Sylvanas explained.

Those words, it seemed, hit home. Jaina’s eyes widened at the truth Sylvanas had otherwise not revealed.

Yes, she was her tipping point, and yes, she should know that.

“You defied this master of yours then, for Derek?” Jaina asked.

“For you,” Sylvanas told her.

The sun clung to one last sliver of the horizon, lighting the western sky to brilliance in orange and gold. Belore would abandon them soon, but perhaps it was for the best. No doubt Jaina would struggle to look upon her as she did now. Devotion and apologies alike meant little if they came from such a wretched creature as she. Her beautiful apprentice turned Archmage deserved better than a mournful corpse.

“If you’ve known all this for so long, why not come to me earlier? That’s what I don’t understand, Sylvanas,” Jaina said, seeming confused at the end by the name that fell so readily from her lips.

The words met her along with a softening in the back of her mind. It was not what Sylvanas expected, not what she rehearsed for. She prepared for Jaina to be stony-faced, civil, but enraged. She prepared for eyes that would not meet hers, not these that stared, and danced with flame and fire and want and this bone-deep desire for an understanding.

Sylvanas held up her hands, bare for the occasion, glowing soulmark on display on her wrist. “Would you have believed me? Would you have even as I explained all these things yesterday, if not for the attack that came after? You wouldn’t have, and I have given you little reason to. I doubt it would have been any different had I sailed here straight from Lordaeron, Grand Marshall Garithos’ blood still wet on my hands.”

“You don’t know that,” Jaina told her. “I grieved for you. For so long, I mourned you. You didn’t even tell me you were—” she trailed off, lacking the correct words to finish that sentence.

“Still alive? Because I wasn’t. I’m a monster. An abomination. An affront to the gods themselves. I still am, even with my soul intact,” Sylvanas reminded her. “Back then, the Alliance saw my people as nothing more than mindless zombies, temporarily bending their feeble wills away from the Lich King’s control, soon to be consumed by it once again and be made to betray them yet another time. You mean to tell me you would have thought any differently?”

“How can I answer that if you didn’t let me try?” Jaina immediately snapped back, her frustration boiling through, both in the movement of her hands and like a pot of boiling oil in the base of Sylvanas’ skull. “If you had come to me, if you had—”

“If I counted back the hours to you I have wasted, dwelling on the past, one by one, we would be here all night and another day,” Sylvanas told her. “I don’t know how you would have reacted. When, where, or why. It doesn’t matter. Could have and would have do not help us now. They do not help the people of Azeroth.”

“They did not help the people of Teldrassil either.”

Ah, there it was. Sylvanas had speculated she would have to answer for her greatest of crimes here. Really, letting the Jailer in had been the greatest, but if it were not through her, then surely it would have been some other pawn that would have taken his power to Azeroth. She just had her anger, her reasons, her vulnerability in having only half a soul to judge by.

“It was not supposed to end that way,” Sylvanas told her frankly, voice low, finding for the first time she could not look into Jaina’s eyes as the dying sun behind her was too close to the memory of the roaring flames. “And while I know it sounds no worse to say this, only one key person was meant to die that day. I left the job to Saurfang, but his odd new sense of honor let Malfurion escape. The strategy to burn the tree was the extreme alternative I was driven to, though no doubt it is what the Jailer wanted all along. That is often how it worked. I would plan something sensible, direct and discreet, it would fail, and then I would be driven to the mad answer, every time.”

The silence stretched on long enough for Sylvanas to have to look up to gauge Jaina’s reaction. She wondered if SI:7 had heard of her original plans for the invasion of Darkshore. But what did it matter? They were doomed. All of these failures, time after time, all this falling back and having to rely on desperate measures—it had all been him. The taunting hand that had held a piece of her soul had pointed her in the wrong direction only to watch her damn ever more souls to his hell in her attempts to make it right again.

The fact that Jaina seemed to be thinking on it still, her mind grinding the words down to powder, as the sun flashed one last brilliant ray behind her, sinking below the horizon, was not lost on Sylvanas. It meant that she did not know. It meant that she was trying to understand.

“Tyrande would have killed you for it all the same,” was what she finally said.

“Perhaps I may yet welcome the mercy of her blade,” was all Sylvanas could say in reply.

There was another silence, but this one ended with a bitter, short laugh against the coming dark of night. “I don’t wish to feel what it’s like to die with you again, so let’s avoid that,” Jaina offered.

There. That was something. Just as the tension dropped on the edge of her spine. In the night, Sylvanas’ wrist glowed like a guiding star. There had to be something left of this, something worth saving. Even if all she had to offer Jaina was to share her life with a dead, bitter war criminal, who had been manipulated into some of what she’d done, and had gladly chosen other transgressions without so much as an ounce of that evil influence.

“I cannot say that Zovaal is to blame for everything I’ve done. I cannot draw an exact line for you of where he ends and I began. That, I think, is the worst part of it. The terrifying part. It all made sense in some way, because that was what he wanted. I wasn’t able to see it so clearly until the day I clutched my soul in my hands. His chains did not hold me then,” Sylvanas went on.

Feeling welled up in her along with the word. Bright and bold, crisp as the cold air of winter, burning as the summer sun. The extremes of emotion save that of anger had been a foreign thing, and still were to her. She felt too raw, too new, her skin newly shed.

“If I were thinking as clearly then, or any time, as I am now, I think I would have come to you,” Sylvanas told her.

She wanted to cry. Not in the screaming, raging way she’d cried for her death and the constant struggle that followed. No, she wanted to cry because this was all just awful. She wanted to cry because it was all like a bandage ripped from a scabbing wound that would not and could not heal. The world itself was even scarred—she had seen the tip of the great hilt of the sword stuck in its side even on her flight over here.

Jaina didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve planet-sized swords and magic-sundered cities. Only the purple of Theramore’s arcane painted her now, and she was beautiful in it. A stunning woman if ever there was one, powerful and stern in the way she stood and thought about those words.

She deserved a lonely Ranger General, whose life she had brought light back into just by existing. She deserved warm, languid mornings in a bed draped with the finest Quel’thalan silk. She deserved to laugh and smile easily, without worrying if she could or should for the state of things. She deserved the smile that even Sylvanas could feel a thousand miles away when she read her terrible attempts at love letters. She deserved the life they were supposed to have together.

But Sylvanas supposed it was not for her to say what Jaina deserved. White-haired and once-dead herself, her heart still beat, but she knew what it was to fail, what it was to have it all come crumbling down, and to be the one picking up the pieces yet again.

All Sylvanas wanted was a chance to be a brick in that new foundation they might both build together. Anything else, well, she would just have to see.

“I don’t know how I could have helped, but I would have tried,” Jaina told her.

“I know. I should have known,” Sylvanas told her. “And I know now it’s too little too late.”

Jaina reached for her, and just as Sylvanas had done when she’d first arrived, let her hand drop empty. It was covered still by the clawed gauntlet, hiding the mark that Sylvanas knew burned beneath it. Jaina was clearly not ready to divest herself of such armor around her, nor did she blame her for such caution.

Still, she reached.

“I can’t say I didn’t wish you did this all of this much sooner, but if you were manipulated as you say, I understand how hard it must have been to do at all,” Jaina said, looking down at that hand before clenching it, the metal of the gauntlet creaking. “But know that I don’t accept that as an excuse.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Sylvanas told her. “Or anyone. I deserve far worse than Tyrande’s blade at my neck, which I’ve no doubt she still wants to deliver to me.”

Tyrande’s absence on the ships was noteworthy. Even though the ceasefire had caused all Horde forces to be removed from Darkshore, she had pursued them to the last—apparently culling them from the boat ramps and swinging ladders hanging from hovering zeppelins. When Sylvanas had posed the question of where she was to Anduin at the beginning of the summit, he’d simply shaken his head.

“I only ask that if I am to be punished, that I do so after we have defeated Zovaal, at least in some measure,” Sylvanas went on. “I will be of no use rectifying my crimes if I am to be in chains once again.”

“I fail to see how that helps any of us,” Jaina concluded. “There is no doubt in anyone’s mind you have been truthful about this, you know. Not even mine. You were correct before in saying you had everything to lose if you weren’t.”

“Delivering oneself into the hands of one's enemies spouting madness they cannot prove is not the strategy of a woman with secrets left to keep,” Sylvanas noted. “I am done with secrets. Truly. Ask of me what you want, what you need to know and I will answer. I owe you at least that, for coming to hear me out.”

Sylvanas watched as Jaina’s lips wrapped around a question, then held it in, like a sigh she did not want to allow to escape. A prayer, maybe. A complaint, perhaps. There was so much to talk about, but the moon was rising, following her ardent and fruitless pursuit of the sun. Tonight, it was only a small crescent, still regaining its form and power. But, it was waxing, not waning.

And while Jaina seemed to debate what question she should ask first, she was asking.

Her pause left Sylvanas enough time to wonder what she would ask, if Jaina were to open herself up this way.

That answer was as simple as it was impossible, really. “Did you love me?” would be what she wanted to know. Ever, at all, still? It didn’t matter. But it wasn’t a question she’d been invited to ask, or one she could give voice to even if she was. Not now, at least. Perhaps not ever.

Perhaps she might never know. Perhaps, she might have to be content with her soulmate standing at arm’s length from her, struggling to find the right words, offering only distant hope of a truce, an alliance of needs, and nothing more.

But loved or not, Sylvanas supposed that was better than the alternative. Still, Jaina was here. She’d listened.

She opened her mouth again to speak.

“Can we maybe sit a while and just, well, talk?” Jaina asked. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear more about this Zovaal and the Maw.”

It was something. Anything at all.

“We can talk, yes,” Sylvanas answered, as she watched Jaina sweep aside her skirts, and sit upon a nearby boulder.

She gestured to the same rock, where a flat place was left empty just beside her, waiting, inviting.

It was the closest Sylvanas had been to her—no. That wasn’t right. Jaina had reached out to her the day before, touched her skin, asked for her to meet. No more melodramatics, no more comparisons of the years and years she’d lost to death and dominance, the wrong and the right of it. These would not serve Sylvanas in her goals, her atonements. Her actions would.

Sylvanas sat next to her soulmate, and though she desperately wanted to reach out to touch her again, she held her bare hands still in her lap. She would tell Jaina everything she wanted to know, everything she was willing to hear. Sincere words were never her forte, but as a career soldier, she could report like no one’s business. If Jaina wanted a report, she’d get the report of her lifetime, so long as she was willing to listen.

And Jaina, it seemed—sitting beside her, back straight, arcane fire dancing still in her eyes and on the strands of her hair—was still listening.

---

Another day, another lifetime ago, and Clea had once again perched herself on the edge of the Ranger General’s desk, legs swinging, without invitation.

“What has you grinning with your ears pointing straight to Belore like that?” she asked as she unceremoniously took up her favorite seat in all of Silvermoon.

“Would you believe me if I told you it was a report from Vereesa on supply lines?” Sylvanas offered, not looking up from the letter that was decidedly not that.

“No. Well, wait, it depends on the type of supply lines. I know you love a good artillery shipment, but maybe not that much,” Clea said.

Sylvanas huffed a laugh. While she would indeed be delighted to get some new ballistas requisitioned for the weaker points of their defensive lines on the Amani front, the likelihood of King Anasterian prioritizing that was far lower than her chances of even finding her once in a lifetime soulmate, whose letter she was actually smiling over.

Clea took this opportunity to peek for her answer and snorted her own response, “Well, I doubt Vereesa writes to you in Common, so I’d say you’re drooling over a letter from your pretty mage instead.”

“I don’t drool,” Sylvanas retorted. “But I also don’t wish to waste time lying to you. Now, Ranger, was there a purpose to your visit other than to pester me about my love life?”

“You love her then?”

Sylvanas knew that the question was meant to be teasing in nature. It was hardly meant as the existential blow that it felt like, a slap across the face that reality must be answered to.

Of course she loved Jaina. That much she knew. The truth of it was so odd though. She’d met the woman for only a week, and still knew precious little about her. Fate had decided to place them in each other’s hearts, forever bound by their souls, and while Sylvanas had relished in the idea of no longer being alone in this world, she had not done so with love in mind. Odd as it was to say, she sought her soulmate for wholeness’ sake as much as anything else really. It was a thing one did, a lifelong pursuit in the long life of an elf, one she was lucky to fulfill in her relative youth.

But yes, the answer was easy. She loved her. She loved Jaina with every fiber of her being, every steady beat of her heart, every calming reminder of their bond as Jaina’s thoughts and feelings leaked so subtly into her mind across the vast distance that separated them, and likely would for much of their lives. They were still figuring out where they would live, where they might even meet for the next time, once Jaina was finished with this silly little jaunt around Lordaeron.

She wanted Sylvanas to come to Dalaran, of course. That was the topic of this letter, apparently sent just before she left the city of mages to accompany Prince Arthas.

Sylvanas hated Dalaran, but for Jaina, she could try. That, she supposed, was what love really was, at least to her—a willingness to put all aside, grievances and gratitudes alike, just to be with someone. Even if that meant dealing with an entire city full of snooty magisters. Jaina deserved that much from her—to do as Sylvanas had done with her in Quel’thalas, and take her to meet her friends, to eat at her favorite restaurants, to see the things and people and places that were important to her.

It was all so strange how this worked with soulmates. It felt like doing love in reverse. The deep, unfathomable bond was there already, but Sylvanas didn’t know what wine Jaina liked best yet, or what she would do to cheer herself up or clear her mind when she was feeling weary of the world and its trials. She didn’t know her favorite color. She didn’t know what animal she’d most often pretend to be when playing make-believe growing up.

Sylvanas, of course, had been a fearsome lynx in her childhood games. What animals were even so prevalent in Kul Tiras for Jaina to assume their imaginary form in her play? Sylvanas didn’t know. She almost jotted down a note to herself to find a natural atlas of the island nation to familiarize herself with the possibilities, but remembered that Clea was there, now looking strangely at her as Sylvanas hadn’t responded in her musing.

“Of course I do,” she answered.

Because she did. She loved Jaina Proudmoore, and was looking forward to spending the rest of whatever time the gods might allow them to have together to get to know her, however and whenever she could.

[shai-manahan]

Hollowed Minds Progress Update 1/02/24

Hi! I hope you're all having a good year so far! I planned to post this last night but I was too anxious over having to return to work lmfao (with the holidays being over and all). Anyway, I know it's been a year since my last update; believe me, I'm upset about it, too, and I'm trying to make up for that.

To be completely honest, aside from my health, one thing that's been stopping me from progressing steadily was my attempts at improving the way I write. I was struggling to find my own style the entire year, experimenting over and over (sometimes without rest, like an idiot), and I know that probably sounds stupid, but writing as a craft is so special to me that I want to be better at it.

It did backfire, though. A lot. Mostly because I couldn't maintain a balance between this and irl stuff.

The thing is, I plan to write trad novels and short stories in the future. I plan to go back to writing screenplays, too. I don't think I'll ever stop making IFs, but there are things I want to write about that I can never do through this medium (and the same is true vice versa). This is also why I tend to keep editing HM while trying to push through with newer updates; this is the only way I can learn more about what I wish to do in the future. This is my chance to practice and experiment, before I get anything published and make the kind of impression I aim to make.

And I think I finally found the style I love to use the most this time.

I feel ready now to post progress updates regularly at least every two weeks (this one doesn't count). I was ashamed of my slow progress for quite a while, but I know I can start moving forward again. I'm also just eager to show you the story I've always wanted to share, and that'd never happen unless I push myself so :').

You're free to ask for progress in case I miss doing this btw, just. don't be an ass about it lmao. And feel free to send asks as well!

So far, this is what I'm trying to improve for the posted demo:

conciseness

strengthening the settings and the descriptions involving them

revising a few dialogues that do not fit the characters at all

readability and making some details clearer

overall pacing of ch2's first part

the nightmare scenes

reassessment of which variations would be most important to the plot and MC's characterization.

everything else I cannot think of right now

I think I'll dedicate a week or two into finishing whatever needs to be cleaned up so there'll be less game-breaking bugs that might happen for the new content. But after that 👀

That's all for tonight!

P.S. recently bought a lampshade and damn. this is definitely much better for my eyes when I write.

[emotionallychargedtowel]

Intense Subtext in Front of Oblivious Side Characters: "I had no wife in the year six"

There's a thing, I guess it would be considered a trope, that is one of my favorite such things in any form of media but especially any sort of romance-centered story. I don't know of an existing term for this and I'm terrible at being concise so I'm not sure how I could put it briefly. Basically, it's the thing that happens when a larger interaction is happening with a group of people but there's a subtext to it that means something very different--and generally, much more meaningful--to the central characters. You could call it something like Intense Subtext in Front of Oblivious Side Characters.

I've been thinking for a while about possible parallels between BLs and Jane Austen novels and/or adaptations. This is my attempt at taking a small, specific example of a parallel I sometimes notice and talking about it. Austen's novels do a lot of this trope I mentioned. That's in part because of choices Austen made in what she wanted to write about. But it's also because of the social context of her time. There was a lot going on that people couldn't be explicit about, for a variety of reasons. I think one reason why I see similar things happening in some BLs--and maybe one reason for the appeal of certain types of BLs--is the fact that being queer in a homophobic society makes openness complicated in a way that doesn't come up as much for hetero relationships these days. Especially when we get into things like office romances, in which appearances have higher stakes. These complications around openness have a kind of similarity to the reasons Austen's characters had to play a lot of things close to the chest.

Fellow Old Fashion Cupcake fans will remember an example from that series that I think really fits here. Nozue and Togawa agree to attend a goukon, or "mixer" as it's sometimes translated--basically a group hangout intended to help men and women meet for the purpose of finding people to date. Nozue is hitting it off with a cute younger woman, which is bad enough. But then he mentions his "anti-aging" efforts, and because of the mysterious way he words it, the woman asks, "Does that mean you're in love?" which of course catches Togawa's attention even more. He's clearly affected when Nozue answers, "If I were, I wouldn't be here."

@jdramastuff did a great screenshot post of this scene if you want to see what this looked like.

After Nozue's comment, Togawa starts knocking back alcoholic drinks like it's going out of style, ensuring that Nozue will have to help him home instead of going home with the woman who's been flirting with him.

(You could argue that this isn't so much a case of subtext as it is the significance one person assigns to what another is saying. Subtext really requires some degree of communication between more than one person. But while Nozue doesn't fully grasp what's going on, I think he does understand in some ways what he's communicating. I don't want to go on too much of a tangent, so I'll just say that having just read the manga the series was based on, it strengthened my belief that while Nozue is repressed, insecure, even deluded at times, he has glimmers of awareness of his feelings for Togawa and even suspicions of Togawa's feelings for him, and on some level he knows what he's saying, though I don't think he knows in this moment how much these words will hurt Togawa.)

I have another favorite example of this, a scene from Persuasion. It's rendered really well in the 1995 adaptation of the novel with Ciaran Hinds and Amanda Root. (The whole thing is phenomenal, by the way--I think it's the best Austen adaptation ever made, personally.)

A bit of background for anyone not familiar with the story: Anne Elliott was engaged to Captain Frederick Wentworth in 1806 but was convinced by Lady Russell, her neighbor/family friend and a kind of surrogate mother to her following her mom's death, to break off the engagement. She has regretted it ever since. Wentworth was deeply hurt and angry when she broke things off, not surprisingly.

More than eight years later, Anne is visiting her sister and her sister's in-laws, the Musgroves, when Wentworth comes to the area and starts spending a lot of time at the Musgrove place (and with the Musgroves' eligible young daughters). Wentworth acknowledges Anne, but just barely, while paying enough attention to both the Musgrove girls that everyone is gossiping about which one he's going to marry. Anne's sister Mary was away at boarding school when her previous relationship with Wentworth happened, so neither Mary nor the Musgroves are aware Anne and Wentworth were involved and think they were only acquaintances.

At a dinner party, the Musgrove girls try to look up the ship that Wentworth first commanded, the Asp, in the Navy List, a book that chronicles the various ships in the British Navy, their commanders, and so forth. Wentworth tells them not to bother--"she" is not in the current version of the List because "she" no longer exists.

Louisa and Henrietta Musgrove are suitably horrified.

Admiral Croft, Wentworth's brother-in-law and superior in the Navy, remarks that Wentworth was lucky to get a command so early in his career at all, no matter how seaworthy (or un-seaworthy) the ship was.

(Remember, 1806 was the year that Anne and Wentworth became engaged and then un-engaged.)

Gut-wrenching. And nobody else sitting at that table has any idea what just happened. I love it.

I have some more thoughts about this languishing in an excessively long post in my drafts, which I'll try to get out one of these days. I know I've talked to a few people about trying to do some BL/Austen posts and had meant to tag them but the only person I remember talking with about it was @absolutebl. If you're reading this and you want a heads up next time I write about this stuff, let me know!

[cannellee]

how did you get so good at writing? i'm so deprived of Tokyo Rev content (not that there isn't alot but I read so much that I basically refresh AO3 and tumblrs tags every day to see if anything new has been posted), that i'm almost to the breaking point of a Thanos "fine i'll do it myself" and starting up writing again Is it just practice? Is it better to post cringey writing that isn't that good ;-; I think I fall into the trap of making any OC or y/n Mary Sue and some authors write with such prose and emotion that i'm like dang how can I write like that love your work!!!! always re-reading <3

first of all thank you so much for all of your kind messages!!! you're literally so sweet😭

(I really tried to be useful and concise, I hope it's not too messy/long : i'm definitely not a real author so my tips might be really bad and specific too😭)

I actually started writing tokyorev abo content precisely because of that reason, I felt like I read everything about it and I couldn't find anything more, especially one with scenarios I actually like. this is why I started my blog!

I honestly wasn't so sure about opening my own blog on tumblr. of course you're bound to compare your work to other authors out there who are definitely wayyy better at writing than you, which is why I hesitated a lot.

but! I already had an account on wattpad where I posted fics, so I felt like my cringey era was behind me (it was easier for me to start here because i knew what my mistakes were when writing and what i struggled with. whereas, when i just started on wattpad, i really felt unsure if i was doing correctly + i was younger, so less sure of myself). but wattpad really helped me see what made my work cringey, what parts were unnecessary and stuff like that.

but what is so frustrating is how bad my writing is in english compared to how I'm able to write in my maternal language. like, when I read other posts and everything with better vocabulary, grammar, who know how to articulate sentences and words, you can tell it's something you can only achieve by being reallyyy comfortable with english. I'm not saying I struggle with english or anything, but the language barrier was one of my biggest doubts when I thought about starting posting fics here on tumblr.

also! when I write something and think it's cringey, I let it marinate for a few days and read it again. it's easier to judge my writing when I put some distance with it, then I correct my mistakes and stuff like that. but really, writing and writing is the only way you'll be able to improve, so it should really not stop you!

but in the end, I don't think anybody ever started writing fics and was automatically good at it. you really have to try and see what works and what doesn't. youre able to see what post gets more attention than the other and try and understand why : is it because of a character or the scenario was better or is it your writing ? feedbacks on your work really help actually, so don't be afraid to try even if youre not fully convinced and confident! I posted cringey stuff too and I still do sometimes😭 I know people do a wayy better job than me, but I really like to write so I don't let it stop me from posting.

and for the y/n character, I try to make her and her reactions as neutral as possible and make her do stuff anyone would do in those situations. but I honestly can't deny that I sometimes fall into those stereotypical y/n writing, which I actually enjoy☠️. but I really try to have her say normal stuff, not describe her too much and basically just think of her as the most basic girl you could meet (generic ahh traits : kind, sweet, bubbly, soft spoken...). some people hate that and some don't, I just write what I'm most comfortable with.

same, if you to start writing you should start by doing stuff and scenarios which you really like and inspire you. don't go and try to write something you know people will like, but rather something you're confident in writing because that's a character you like and know how to describe, and because you have so much ideas which would really fit him etc.

and what helped me are the headcanons with the lists. maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't, but I used to list stuff when I started posting. it's just easier to structure my ideas, to see them more clearly. writing huge paragraphs are actually more of a hardwork I think, because everything has to follow the precedent idea and it has to be comprehensible, linked to what you're gonna say next etc. if you list what you wanna say, you can talk about how a character's personality is like and then change the subject radically without having to think and care about the transitions and overall plan (of course if it's too out of pocket it looks weird, but I hope you understand what I mean)

and if you want to write stories and not do little headcanons, what I do when I'm stuck and don't know what to write is that I also sometimes only write a part I really like and leave the beginning (or any other part) for another time when I'll be more inspired. I really don't have any hierarchy when I'm trying to find ideas, I wait for them to come naturally. I don't know what else I could say, it's really messy lmao😭

I hope you found it useful! you definitely will find people who write way better than me and who can help and guide you better than that, with better tips... that was more like my experience on tumblr than anything else, but I hope it could help you!!

[bookwyrminspiration]

KOTLC Graphic Novel: B&N Virtual Event Summary

There are no spoilers

Shannon Messenger was accompanied by Stuart Gibbs, author of Spy School and other series, who asked the questions

Enjoy!

Event's theme was Iggy Celebration--Shannon chose to wear dark blue, as it's secretly her favorite Iggy

It's officially called Dark Blue Iggy in the books, but the actual color nomination from fans was "tardis blue". She couldn't use that for potential legal issues, but she knows it's actually Tardis blue, making it her favorite

Shannon can't take credit for Iggy's changing color

She'd made him pink in book 2, and so a fan at an event asked her what color he'd be in the next book

Shannon asked her what color she wanted him to be. This fan, dressed in head to toe purple, leaned in and very seriously said "Orange." So Iggy was orange

Opened it to fans after that--but sadly never got the name of that one fan to thank her properly ("Whoever you are girl in purple, thank you!")

Book 10 doesn't have an official release date because Shannon's still writing it (as fast as she can!)

Iggy's color options for Book 10 are still undecided as well

Shannon thanks everyone immensely for their patience; "it's my focus! I want to get to them as fast as possible," but she also wants the book to be good and worth the wait

"Naive Shannon thought the later I got into the series the easier the books would be to write. WRONG!"

she has so many planted seeds to keep track of and constantly feels the pressure to one up her previous books

"I kinda wish I'd set the bar a little lower from the beginning"

She can't make a perfect book; there's always going to be someone who doesn't like something

She's reached the point of realizing her plans, and it's a delicate balance. You don't want reveals to feel like they came completely out of left field, but also don't want them to be like "I guessed that six books ago"

Finding the balance between feeling earned and still surprising is a daunting task ahead of her; it's more labor intensive than she thought it'd be

Stuart Gibbs points out that even if it takes a while, Shannon gives us a lot of book per book, so it's worth it

Shannon never intended to write such long books; she used to say every time that the next one she'd get the hang of being concise and it would be shorter, but everyone stopped believing her by book four

Was a graphic novel adaptation ever part of her plans? Secretly yes--she started as an art major and loves seeing illustrated versions of her characters. The highlight of her year is the cover art, and graphic novels are entire books!

It was on her author bucket-list, but she wasn't sure it'd would be possible; some books just don't work as graphic novels and they're expensive for publishers

When she found out she got the adaptation she "did a happy dance I was very grateful no one could see"

How involved were you in this process? Very involved, since her publishers know she has an art background

They let her pick from writers who auditioned--she wasn't sure that was a great idea because she didn't know if she could be objective; "no, I wrote it this way because it needs to be this way!"

Celina "knocked it out of the park" with her audition

For Gabriella, the artist, she was exactly what Shannon was looking for; she wanted a new style--Jason Chan (the cover artist) is incredible, but she wanted the GN to be distinct and more illustrated

She describes the GN as "like Disney meets manga," cartoonish but not

Shannon gave notes on rough drafts, inked pages, and colored versions--she's sure they got sick of her notes by the end of it

She remembers thinking "certain Keefe jokes MUST make it in," but then seeing them in the visual format they realized "huh, this joke isn't funny anymore"

Anything that surprised you about the process? Definitely some of those Keefe jokes not working, but also the fact they had to split it. At first she thought they could work it all into one, but emotion takes longer to convey visually, and they were "robbing the heart out of the book" by trying to fit it in one

Shannon jokes everything she writes ends up longer than they expect

Do you have any idea about part two? It's in the works, but it's a herculean task for the artists, so it all depends on them; "do not blame them at all! this is a daunting, daunting, massive work load"

Shannon owes Gabriella "all the cookies ever"

it's a very tight timeline, so they'll share the release date when they have it, but for now just let the artist do their thing

Was it weird to spend so much time with book 1 again? Forget anything? Want to change anything? There were some sentences she wanted to rewrite--"a book is never done, it's just due"

Thought about adding Gisela in book one, since she wishes she'd introduced her then; she always knew she'd play a huge role, but thought it'd be more clever to not introduce her until she was ready to bring her into play.

Now she disagrees with that decision and wishes she'd been there from book one, but decided that "it's not bad the way she did it, but it would've been more elegant" so she didn't change it

Does Gibbs have anything he would change about his book? He says you don't always know which characters will catch on, some some that become important he wishes he spent more time with in the beginning--"if I'd done this in book one, I couldn't done this in book 7!"

Any movie news? Hollywood is so much hurry up and wait, a ladder with thousands of rungs; they got caught at the script stage when the writer's strike happened, and even though the strike ended that doesn't mean the gears start turning again immediately.

the script is the most important thing, especially since KOTLC would be a very expensive movie, so the more solid the foundation the better the chance they have of getting greenlit

Her fingers are crossed; she wants a movie/show, but she wants it to be a good movie/show

Fans often don't realize how much work it is and how out of the author's hands it is

Reader questions! (name spellings are to the best of my ability)

Celiana: what advice do you have for young authors? Focus on writing and enjoying that part of the process before publishing! Publishing is stressful and complicated

Shannon throws the question to Gibbs. He says a lot of the times fans tell them they don't like their writing, it's their first draft. "Well that would be the problem."

Very few people hit it out of the park on their first try. Editing is a super important part of the process!

Shannon writers her books weird (editing intensely as she goes because she's always behind on deadlines, and hopes to go back to normal one day), but before that she'd have 2 or 3 drafts each. Book 1 was draft 20, Exile was draft 3, Everblaze was 2.

Gibbs does about 10 drafts each (though admits his outlines process isn't nearly as rigorous as Shannon's)

Shannon reached a point where she said "I don't think I'm smart enough to do this alone anymore!" Her books are like houses of cards, and she simply doesn't have time for the drafts to fall apart

She and her team frequently painstakingly plan things out--and even then sometimes have to scrap things. Remember that scene we rigorously went through last week? "it's not working! Now what?"

Mary Claire: Was it hard for you to find a publisher? Yes. First she got an agent, as that's important when traditionally publishing. She got her at draft 13--said that while she loved the book and its idea, you could tell this was Shannon's first book.

They went through a few edits and thought draft 15 was the one, but she got LOTS of rejections

her confidence was shaken, and draft 16 turned into a mess

At draft 18 it was sold, and then they went through 2 more versions with an actual editor; "so so much rewriting..."

Gibbs tried to get published as a kid, but was rejected throughout all of his schooling, so "to heck with this! I'm going to Hollywood to write movies"...which was actually pretty similar

he came back to writing 15.5 years ago during the last writers strike--"hey maybe I should try this book thing again"

They don't share their experiences to scare you; it's worth it, but you have to love writing to be an author given how much work and rejection it is

That's why Shannon says to enjoy the writing stage as long as you can; you need to fall in love with writing and with your story and truly believe in it

Were you always reading as a kid? Writing stories? When did you decide to write a book? Shannon was very focused on art as a kid and wanted to be a Disney animator, but her art doesn't work for that; she can't draw what's in her head, she can only copy, which "makes me about as useful as a camera"

She thought she could learn the skill, but couldn't in art classes; she realized she was always going to be frustrated if she kept at it

She'd started college at 16 and now her life plan was falling to pieces, so her mom advised her to take a class for fun

it was a film class, since she thought she'd be able to watch TV for school

she was, but her teacher also encouraged her to go to film school since she could finally bring things out properly on the page how they were in her head

"You have a lot to learn, but I see something in you." "Cool, I'm a film major now. Answered!"

Turns out film is too collaborative for her and she wanted more control; "there's those book things, I guess I could try those."

She doesn't regret the journey

Addie: How do you et the ideas to write? Shannon wishes she had a tree that sprouted money and great ideas, but really ideas are everywhere and it's a matter of paying attention.

You don't need your whole idea all at once--can be small like "I wonder if that hat...wasn't a hat at all!"

She knew she wanted to work with elves, and she knew she wanted to strip the magic from the story in favor of sci-fi/superhero logistics. The rest came bit by bit

Some days she couldn't write fast enough, others it was "oo, what if they wore capes?"

Elizabeth: what do you do when you have writers' block? Shannon doesn't like to call it that because that makes it seem scarier than it is; to her it's just being stuck, and she plays the "what if?" game

What if I got rid of the previous scene? What if they went here instead? What if, what if, what if? Open yourself to new possibilities

Gibbs is a big going for a walk person for when you're stuck. We all get stuck, not just young writers. he also likes hiking--walking but not coming back for a while.

At this point a poll was sent to the audience asking them to choose between 5 pairs. Bolded won with percentage included afterwards

Teleporting or light leaping? (63%). Eternalia or Mysterium? (63%). Bathe a T-Rex or Pet a Verminion? (55%). Telepath or Empath? (62%). Cape or No Cape? (60%)

Shannon's surprised the Keefe fans didn't pull through with the Empath vote

No matter what Shannon writes, someone's going to be unhappy, so she started pulling back on appealing to fans and prioritizes what fits the story

Marissa: Will Iggy ever go back to grey? That's up to the readers! Shannon leaves it completely in our hands, so if we ever nominate and vote for grey, she'll write it.

Shannon thanks everyone for reading and being patient, as she's writing as fast as she can

When a book is released she usually celebrates with a dessert; she ordered a bunch of fall flavor donuts from Krispy Kreme today, so she's not sure if she'll save one for tomorrow or get something new

It's dangerous that she can just push a button and donuts will show up at her house (doordash)

Gibbs and Shannon hope everyone love the graphic novel as much as they do--and stay tuned for part 2!

[sleepyheadd0]

tmnt 2012: splinter projecting himself and shredder onto leo and raph

a rant / analysis

1.4k words; unedited

under cut

WRITING THIS AT LIKE 5:30AM BECAUSE I PHYSICALLY CANNOT GET THIS OUT OF MY BRAIN WHY HAVEN'T I SEEN PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT THIS

okay okay, im gonna try to talk about this as clearly and concisely as i can. 2012 splinter is projecting his relationship with shredder onto leo and raph. people have probably talked about this but i just wanna explain my point of view on this.

so. as the story goes, shredder (also known as oroku saki) was found by splinter's (also known as hamato yoshi) father after the foot clan was defeated. splinter's dad adopted shredder and raised him as his own, having splinter and shredder be brothers. we all know this (i assume).

we also know that splinter and shredder's relationship, while always competitive, doubled down on that (and even became bitter and spiteful, even on both sides at points), when tang shen is added into the mix. as the story goes, both splinter and shredder fall in love with tang shen, but she falls in love with splinter, and so shredder gets all pissy and violence occurs. since they couldn't come to an agreement, tang shen died and miwa (now known as karai) was literally kidnapped by shredder.

but what does this have to do with leo and raph? lemme tell you what

leo and raph, in the very beginning of the series (literally the pilot), are introduced to us to be butting heads, even after sparring is over. as the pilot continues, raph is bitter that leo was chosen as leader, even though raph was physically stronger than leo. even after it was proved that raph couldn't be leader (and leo got to stay leader), there was always some sort of tension between the two throughout the course of the series (or at least up to season four, i have yet to find a way to watch season five and watch their dynamic during then. but i figure, given the clips ive seen, that their tension seemed to mellow out in that final season.)

do you see any parallels there? because i do

so. two brothers, training to be ninjas in the hamato clan. growing up, they were always butting heads, but that's not to say there was any malicious intent in that. then, one day, something the both of them want is added. (tang shen for splinter and shredder, leadership for leo and raph.) this only causes more tension to grow between them, causing their previous unharmful headbutting to take a turn for something a bit more hurtful. next, this special something is chosen for the more responsible brother. (tang shen falling in love with splinter, and it being proven that leo is the only brother with the mental ability to lead the team.) this, of course, only deepens the hot headed brother's bitterness; which in turn makes this brother act out in aggression towards the responsible brother. (shredder attempting to murder splinter, and raph having less self control when training against leo. (if im not wrong, there's an episode where raph's anger gets the best of him, and he goes too far on training with leo. if anyone can confirm that, that would be great lmao).).

so why do i say splinter is projecting this relationship onto leo and raph? great question.

as seen throughout the series, it's not all that difficult to see how splinter has farm more of a relationship with leo than he does raph, donnie, and mikey. the blatant favoritism is, due to what i believe, is seeing his younger self in leo. he's hardworking, responsible, reliable, diligent, and would do anything for the hamato clan / family. this is how we saw splinter himself act when the turtles went back in time when they first met renet. and if it's true that splinter saw his younger self in leo, then he very easily could've been seeing shredder's younger self in raph.

raph, being impulsive, having a short fuse, being very physically powerful, butting heads with the responsible brother, those are all traits that shredder had when he was younger. even the way that leo and raph's relationship dynamic was, it was parallel to splinter and shredder's. and when splinter declared leo the leader, that parallel became even more apparent.

but, splinter had already seen first hand how that parallel ended the first time: death, loss, and overall tragedy. and so, i believe splinter decided to try and nip the problem in the bud.

with raph, we can see splinter time and time again trying to mellow raph's anger; to have him bottle it up instead of letting it be a part of him and learning to control it. the biggest example i can think of is the episode "turtle temper", one of, if not the first proper non pilot episode of the entire series. not only does splinter set raph up for failure with his training exercise, but he literally told raph a story of him and shredder, and how the shredder exploited splinter's anger. even though splinter was comparing shredder to someone else, the use of a story about splinter and shredder leads me to believe that splinter could be using those experiences, in more ways than the one shown in "turtle temper", to help splinter parent raph and leo. now, while not actively villainizing raph, splinter still does paint raph's anger issues in a darker light than what they are.

and on the flip side, how does this affect splinter's parenting of leo? well, splinter already saw what happened if that parallel went on, and it only led to death and suffering. and with tang shen literally sacrificing herself to save splinter, i feel as though splinter could believe he failed tang shen and miwa. so with splinter being splinter, he tried to teach leo to not fail in the ways splinter believes he did. the harshness and strictness, far more one on one time spent with leo on screen, hell, even telling leo he'll have to take splinter's job as both a mentor and father to his brothers when splinter passes? it's hard for me to not believe splinter is projecting onto leo. this is simply because splinter just doesn't want history repeating; he doesn't want another shredder created out of his son.

but, from what clips ive seen of season 5, it wasn't even necessary. leo and raph do get along while splinter isn't there to project, and that's even happened a bit in the space arc. (only major argument i remember between them in that arc is when they were on the corrupted planet.)

because leo and raph AREN'T splinter and shredder... they're LEO AND RAPH.

they're different people with different morals and motivations. but splinter didn't quite see that.

also, when the tang shen situation was happening, i feel like grandpa hamato was kinda pushed in between the conflict between splinter and shredder; unable to choose just one side to support, but getting pushed to the back either way. i think this parallels with donnie and mikey; they can't chose between leo and raph to support all the time, because they're their brothers. but they get pushed to the back and out of focus; and now also out of splinter's focus specially.

now i have seen those ending clips of season five, and i believe this can be seen as why splinter only hugged leo and karai.

-leo: he still saw himself in. but now, he could also see the success that he himself was unable to achieve.

-karai: his daughter, the one he thought he lost due to the conflict between him and shredder. she was one of the driving forces in the conflict, and came out still on splinter's side.

-raph: while splinter still loves raph dearly, just as i assume he still loves shredder dearly, the dark legacy of the shredder still taints his view of raph unintentionally.

-donnie and mikey: like his father, he loves them both dearly. but, like their grandfather, they ultimately got pushed to the side unintentionally. still loved greatly, just not the main priority.

now, do i think this is all canon? no, it's like 99% likely to not me. i was probably really reaching with this, and it could've just been completely unintentional by writers and just came about because of recycled conflicts. but it is now 6:34 am so i don't care.

thanks for reading lolzies.

[batrachised]

I am SO curious what you think of specific LMM short stories - namely, The Waking of Helen, The Doctor's Sweetheart, and The Growing Up of Cornelia - but also just all of them bc there is so much going on in literally all of them (not even counting the insanity that is tannis of the flats). apologies if you've talked ab them before but I am intrigued as to if you've read them/have thoughts

Thanks for this ask, I find it really interesting! I also find it very appropriate for this kilmeny shebang, because I think kilmeny provides a very good illustration for this.

I don't think I've read all of LM Montgomery's short stories, although I know I've hit a good chunk of them, so that in and of itself tells you something. There are some I really, really love and that I think are LM Montgomery at her best (The Quarantine at Alexander Abraham's), but I find a lot of them to be LM Montgomery at her worst. Some of them encapsulate LM Montgomery's strengths in a really potent, concise way; a lot of them emphasize her weaknesses in parallel.

Because I haven't read a lot of them since I was a teen, I mostly have dim memories of the ones I liked, or of ones where I was like hmmm...that's funny, or the ones that I liked but now looking back am like hmm...that's funny. I used to love the Growing up of Cornelia quite a bit, but now I squint at it for obvious reasons. I LOOOOOOOOOOOOVED the fake dating one because I thought it was hilarious (this spinster lies to the town about having someone courting her, someone she completely fabricates - only for a man who happens to fit the description to a tee show up in a sheer shenanigan of fate). The Strike at Putney is my sister's favorite (the women of a church go on strike to combat sexism).

So overall, there are some jewels in in the mix. The form of a short story is such that in some ways, you have to strip writing and storytelling down to its bare elements. As such, I think the form of a short story is particularly well-suited to demonstrating Maud's strength of humor. When they're good, they're good.

However, as referenced, that often means when they're bad, they're bad. Some are technically well-written but gross in plotline (these are the ones that tend to be the ones I liked as a child, but as an adult..); a lot are both disturbing and imo pretty poorly written, much like a certain novel we've been discussing lately. We have Tannis (YIKES), the Education of Betty (YIKES), and others which kind of pull back the curtain on Maud.

LM Montgomery was no angel, and even beyond aspects of her you'd expect historically, she was just...kind of mean. I remember reading a letter of hers where she visited some equivalent of a girl scout troop and frankly talked about how she couldn't imagine any of the girls finding husbands because they were so plain and ugly. You see it pop up in her books, but it pops up a lot in her short stories as well. In the end, to answer your question in a general sense, I feel like overall the short stories have more kilmeny's than anne's.

Regarding the specific stories, I'd have to reread them. We did discuss the Growing Up of Cornelia on here a while back - I used to LOVE that one, but now as an adult I'm like more errrr. It is interesting to me because Sidney is the Dean Priest figure that ever haunts LMM's work. As for The Waking of Helen, iirc this is @mzannthropy's favorite! Unlike Kilmeny, it actually commits to its premise and so I think it works. I'm not really familiar with the Doctor's Sweetheart - I looked it up and nothing rang a bell.

For my favorite short stories (You didn't ask, but I shall answer anyway) - here are the ones that I remember even years later:

The Quarantine at Alexander Abraham's: iconic, in a word. endlessly quotable. A spinster woman who hates men quarantined with a confirmed bachelor who hates women? Much like the blue castle, this takes a basic fanfic trope (for tbc, 'where is my wife;' for this, quarantined together) and so successfully executes it you're left with your jaw on the floor.

The Strike at Putney: this is a sister's favorite, and I can see why. Women of the church learn that a missionary will not be allowed to occupy the pulpit to speak because she's a woman, and so they go on strike. It's also a emphasized critique of the undervaluing of women's work.

The Materializing of Cecil: GOD I REMEMBER LOVING THIS ONE. This unmarried woman is embarrassed to be unmarried at forty and so flagrantly invents a lover to her sewing circle - only for a man who fits the description to SHOW UP. It's hilarious. However, as a content warning, I reread it to find there is less than fantastic description of a Chinese man near the end.

The Little Brown Book of Miss Emily: guess what? this one is in first person, and that person is ANNE. 😱 this one...it's sad, but it always stayed with me. I have read quite a few lmm stories and forgotten most, but not this one. Also, its final line is beautiful to me.