#me? writing from a perspective that isn't knights? more likely than you think | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-mercurial-star-o-vesper · 18 days

Text

Going on from Trinimac (He's my favorite god of the Elder Scrolls), the way his story goes is interesting.

So.

In story, we know he gets "consumed" by Boethiah and Boethiah takes his form, and talks to people about Truths, and afterwards, Trinimac is diminished into Malacath and Boethiah goes on to lead the Dunmer.

This? This is interesting for several reasons.

( Now for the sake of me not doing a bunch of research, pulling sources, and trying to parse the esoteric deep lore of TES and the manic writings of Kirkbride, I'm sticking with Morrowind's in-game books, such as "The Changed Ones" and "Variaties of Faith". I'll prolly get to more esoteric stuff at a later post? When the thought hits me. )

They know that its Boethiah Talking and not Trinimac.

Trinimac Worship is not picked up again after this, even though he was the strongest and more favored god.

There has been no attempt to turn Malacath back into Trinimac. As impossible as this sounds, I need to point out the power of belief in the Elder Scrolls and the idea of objects and rituals. If you can Break Akatosh, Time itself, you can reverse what happened to Trinimac (who was changed by considerably less strenuous means). If you can mantle the Dead God Lorkhan (Talos), then you can revive the God Knight. ... Nobody has done this, however.

Orismer are then paraih'd from the Aldmer / Altmer, with no attempts to reunite, renegotiate, or anything--just an immediate marking them as no better than Ogres and Goblins. Worse still, if you read "Pig Children", it seems that a lot of the sentience on Tamerial don't like orcs.

Trinimac's story, by his own former people, the Old / High Elves, is reduced to propoganda made against Dunmer worship. And this, is coming from the same peoples who want to return to pre-dawn and despise Lorkhan. You'd think that they'd keep Trinimac worship for that reason, if nothing else.

Boethiah is the deceiver of nations, they're one of the worst daedra to run into given their ruthless bloodthirsty nature, and they're attached to conspiracy and deceit.

... So if they knew it was Boethiah, why listen? Why trust it?

Especially if you know that this Daedric Prince, anathema of Auri-el and Aedra, is prancing around in your most favorite of gods? I'm pretty certain playing puppet with someone else's body is a violation worthy of raising alarm.

There's only one reasonable answer:

It wasn't Boethiah.

Something to note about the Aedra of the Elder Scrolls. They're bound to interpretation. The closest we're gonna get to pre-dawn et'Ada (What everyone was before the creation of Mundus and Nirn, so Before the "dawn") are certain Daedra.

To take example.

Kyne of the Nords, and Kynareth of the Imperials, are of the same "Oversoul" or rather, the same Aedra, but are not the same God. In fact, Kynareth was created / born from Cyrodiilic interpretations of Kyne. Kyne and Kynareth are fully capable of meeting each other as unique individuals, inspite technically being the same person, and potentially, even being against one another.

( Find any Auri-el vs Akatosh argument. Auriel doesn't like Nirn or mortality or probably humans, but Akatosh likes the place and doesn't like anyone fucking with it or the mortals. )

Collective belief will create Gods, provided there's an Aedra niche for them to come from.

( Probably the price of sacrificing bits of yourself to create things, plays into now only having power if someone can perceive you. )

( It also kinda brings in the idea that a Daedra can, in fact, become an Aedra if they are willing to sacrifice parts of themselves to expand the Mundus. Gotta remember that most of them are all Et'Ada, they are fully capable of performing those feats. Daedra and Aedra are just outdated perspectives by Aldmer. )

Anyway.

Why isn't it Boethiah.

Because, following how Aedra work? Boethiah was the Velothi Aspect of Trinimac. But because they were Aldmer undergoing a schism, it wasn't so cleanly defined as Kyne and Kynareth or Stuhn and Stendarr.

The God tore himself, under the schism of multiple interpretations.

And because each interpretation was, in of itself, a live God, and because most of those interpretations didn't fit with the greater popularity...

... Suddenly, your most Favorite God pops up into his Temple and talks about how He was Wrong. Speaks about what the Mundus is really meant to be, and how to work it.

And with that? Because that's a God talking, that's THE God talking, things he says must be true...

That's when you get the massive underlying cultural shift.

Trinimac is branded an oathbreaker, a liar, a hypocrite, and against his own aspect, by the very Aldmeri populace, and the result is that the gods schisms so badly that it divorces itself from the Mundus, and falls to pieces.

Those who still believed in him after this, were changed to Orcs, and were branded just as pariah as their god. And that's how you got Malacath, the only surviving piece and not even that good of one.

Those who believed his new truth, that part walked away as Boethiah, and lead Veloth, and the newly changed Chimer. And in fact, that's where the idea that Boethiah wore him came from, because that was the aspect that survived to keep speaking the new truths.

( There are other surviving fragments, but I'll get into them at a later time. Trinimac didn't completely succeeded in killing his Men-Counterpart )

And though Trinimac is still acknowledged as champion of Auriel, there are no more new worshipers. The truths he spoke were too terrible to return to his old worship. Because why worship what you know are lies?

Of course, as time rode on, Malacath and Boethiah were further and further estranged from their old roots. Boethiah doesn't lead peoples anymore, and Malacath sticks to his strongholds over reigning vengence against people (let alone the Altmer or Dunmer).

But its funny how a certain point of view can make the difference.

ADDENDUM:

And what of Veloth? Well, a dude can't just randomly get visions out of the ether and decide to leave home to go into the wilderness for no reason. Visions, here, are granted by gods.

This schism, it started somewhere. While it ended in the fragmentation of a god...

... It might just have been started by that very god.

There is no greater lie than the lies we tell ourselves, when we know we've done something horrible, to ourselves and to others.

That perhaps, under orders and belief, in a times of war and betrayal, a knight-general over armies killed the shieldbrother of the enemy king, and then tore the heart from that king.

[ down in front of his army and reached in with more than hands to take his Heart ]

Perhaps it was ordered by another king. Perhaps it was justice for lives now forever lost in creation as earth bones. Perhaps it was simply because so he could prove he Could.

[ As their aspects began to die off, many of the et'Ada vanished completely ]

[ shook his head at this, for he was akin to Tsun and did not care much for logic-talk as much as he did only for his own standing ]

And then he was left behind by the new king.

In such grief, its easy to ask... Why. He did everything right. He got Justice, he proved He could. He did everything right, so why?

[ Everything is spoiled, for now, and for all time, and the most we can do is teach the Elven Races to suffer nobly, with dignity, and chastise ourselves for our folly, and avenge ourselves upon Shezarr and his allies ]

Gods aren't meant to feel grief. Perhaps he went a-searching.

Perhaps he consorted with Daedra. Found the xarxes, and read direction. Looked upon Dawn and Dusk, and found beauty. Found the Web, saw the secrets.

( After all, it was murder, wasn't it? When you cut out the heart of a god and kill him perma-dead, leaving only his ghost, that is murder. That is consorting with Mephala. )

[ Know that battle is a blessing. Know that death is an eventuality. Know that you are dust in the eyes of-- ]

Found the Cycle, and he was apart of it. Revenge is always a Cycle. And when your first remembered act is murder, Death becomes your domain.

[ I am alive because that one is dead. I exist because I have the will to do so. And I shall remain as long as there are signs of my handwork, such as the blood dripping from this blade. ]

Perhaps he found himself, in the man he killed to find the now dead king. For after all, if death was his domain, surely he would know where souls go--

[ Died defending Shor from foreign gods ]

-- and merely found himself.

[ fell at sunrise and became replaced by mirrors ]

That perhaps One King over the Other was merely a perspective.

[ would hate the same-twin on the other end of the aurbrilical cord ]

[ I AM NOT ]

Death is merely finding the End, and at the end of it all, was a Tower, and he had the Key.

[ is the heart of the world, for one was made to satisfy the other ]

and you don't become sheild-thane god for another god for no one, and not for no reason.

[ the ashen-amalgamation of his sons that had survived ]

When your various dream selves are bound by interpretation, all this means is waiting for someone to tell the knowledge to. Someone who has just the right belief and understanding, that you can reach.

Especially you cannot reach the wandering, because you felled the self that could have talked to them.

[ and swore blood vengeance on the heirs of Auriel for all time ]

That perhaps this all started, because of the grief and guilt of the son who stole his fathers' lives.

[ then ascended to heaven in full observance of his followers so that they might learn the steps needed to escape the mortal plane ]

[ withdrew from the creation of the world at the last second, though it cost him dearly ]

[ dooming him to the underworld ]

[ He was undone ]

And for those who are trapped--

[ cast down their jailer king ]

--but have a chance to escape.

[ the rules of Psijic Endeavor ]

... And he just needed the right ear.

( Sorry for the trippiness. But I do so like writing something that looks like it could've walked right outta "V for Vendetta". Lots o quotes from lots o places. )

#elder scrolls #elder scrolls morrowind #elder scrolls oblivion #elder scrolls skyrim #morrowind #oblivion #skyrim #trinimac #boethiah #malacath #speculation #theory #analysis

21 notes · View notes

myuiis · 9 months

Text

sally park: a missed opportunity

this is probably going to rot in drafts for a WHILE but i needed to scream into the void about this so let me rant to YOU (yes, you) about how ptj fucked up sally park's writing and purpose in the story so much that she is now just a bundle of missed opportunities. the same could also be said about other characters like crystal choi, luah lim, etc. but i just reread hunt for hostel and i have a lot of insane thoughts that need to be screamed about.

as a character who was the center of attention during her introduction arc, she has been reduced to simply an eli enabler and warren's love interest, who gets about 3 panels to really shine, and then is demoted back into window dressing.

warning: mild eli hate ahead but i do NOT hate eli, i just hate ptj for making everything hostel related eli-centric, when sally is arguably just as important.

so. lets start at the beginning.

from the very beginning, the eli jang arc was told from sally's perspective especially based off the narration, and her character during the majority of the eli jang arc BANGED. initially introduced as a classic demure, feminine savior figure for bad boy warren in the first chapter of the eli jang arc, it's then shown that she isn't as naive or one-dimensional as she may seem.

in fact, shes shown to be fiercely independent and self-sufficient, learning to live by herself and deal with her own problems without anyone helping her, while simultaneously grappling with her grandmother blaming her over her dad's death (side note this plotline, which could've added so much depth to her story was NEVER picked up again)

on my first read of the eli jang arc, this sequence actually punched me in the gut and sally became an instant fav

but i digress. continuing back to the main point, sally was a tremendously well written character (or as good as we're gonna' get when it comes to female characters by ptj) in the eli jang arc, whether it be her narration (scenes like "sometimes i think if i hadn't introduced them to eli back then, our story wouldn't have been such a tragedy"), or her actual actions in the story.

she was integral to the story. in fact, i would say that she was MORE central to the heart and soul of hostel than eli jang was (at first, before she got butchered by ptj and forgotten about) because it was HER that was providing for her family with HER own money, until eli stepped in months later. she was the one that everyone wanted to assist and protect because she was who was holding everyone together through her sacrifice and love.

LOOK AT HER!!! just LOOK AT HER!!! she is so noble and tragic and she does everything for the sake of her family, including starving herself! she is so tremendously loving and sacrifices so much for her family, which is why everyone unites around her to help her!

in fact, the reason warren, eli, and others devolve into crime and stealing is to help her get more money for food, as they can't bear to see her starve herself. while this does come off a little bit white knight-ey (oh a big strong man has to save the sweet damsel), the point is that she has this kind of power over the people around her through her genuine leadership skills

not only that, but she was actually also the one who came up with the idea of using their old building to provide for more homeless kids, showing that she really should be credited with the creation and management of the runaway fams, far more than she is in the story.

even though, immediately after, its shown that she didn't think enough about the financials of the situation, and eli gets his time to shine by coming up with the point organization stuff, the way its framed portrays both sally's idea and eli's financial proposal of the financial system as equally important things. this scene makes me think that, at the very least, sally and eli's importance should be on equal footing: sally is the passion, the heart, the core, while eli is the figurehead, the brains, the fighter.

in summary, sally was the person who united the original hostel A through her leadership, kindness, and sacrifice, and had so much soft power over everyone that the entirety of her family would do anything to help her. she also came up with the idea of helping runaway families, demonstrating her kindness and generosity.

not only that, she was still actively managing the runaway families and making money while eli fucked off to j high to become a barber, allowing her to get closer to the runaway fams and inspire them with her leadership.

with all that said, it's clear that sally should be a three-dimensional girlboss who uses her charisma and good personality to gain soft power and lead the people around her as one of the figureheads and hearts of the hostel crew, right?

well. no.

after the eli jang arc, she becomes close to useless.

i dont remember much of 2A outside of the big deal stuff, but what i do remember is that sally does nothing, wins a singular rock-papers-scissors game, and then becomes a damsel in distress again that warren needs to save and gets to show off his cool fighting skills in the process. (this may not be accurate, feel free to correct me if im wrong)

but my BIGGEST gripe is the hunt for hostel arc. the hunt for hostel arc was very much centered around eli, warren, and even jerry, more than it was sally, despite how much of an integral role she played in the formation of hostel. during the entire arc, she does basically nothing but watch on the sidelines

... and then ptj pulls this on us. they all unite because they admire and love eli jang so much? only eli jang? not warren chae, gangdong's mighty? not max and derek, the two uncles? not sally park, THE big mama?

i cannot emphasize how ironic it is that sally, the big mama, quite literally gave birth to the idea of the runaway fams, and yet nobody mentions her again afterwards, and only ever eli jang. like... what did eli ever do for you? give you a shitty haircut?

and when warren and eli leave, i FINALLY thought that ptj was going to give sally a moment to shine and show her by herself again, like she was all that time ago, and how she figures out how to save her family despite being unable to fight...

but no. we get this sick ass panel and then she is completely irrelevant again

the next example of the sally erasure comes when eugene is talking to eli about him joining workers. he tries to convince eli that this is the ONLY thing that he can do to protect his family, and that, now that he's here and so is warren, hostel is weak and helpless because the MEN that get everything done aren't there anymore and "oh no, what can sally park and the girls do?"

like fym "what can they do"?! sally is a LEADER and she has POWER and INFLUENCE (or at least, she should). but no, the narrative doesn't prove him wrong, and sally does next to nothing in the narrative.

i cannot emphasize how much more of a leader figure she is than eli btw. she took all the runaway kids under her wing. it was her idea to build an organization for these kids in the first place. she was the one singlehandedly raising money for all 7 high schoolers in her family before eli stepped in. she STARVED HERSELF and CUT HER OWN FINGERS trying to make food for her family. she was THE big mama. EVERYONE wanted to protect her and respect and love her. and yet ELI is the main character of hostel that is oh so important and that everyone will unite under????

"oh no without you how will anything get done, eli jang?" stfu

and even when she does do things, later on, it's really more of an excuse for vasco to shine. while she was the one to get heather's mom to forgive eli, as well as the one that got vasco to save eli in the first place, 1) her major role in this part of the story is entirely sidelined and given no narrative weight outside of being the reason that eli's healing arc can happen and 2) the only agency we've ever seen her having since hostel arc is in relation to eli. she only ever acts on her own to save eli. she PROBABLY did stuff outside of that to help hostel, but that is entirely offscreen and not focused on at all, so her leadership and agency when it comes to things outside of a MAN are ignored.

in chapter 478, i thought that she was once again given a brief moment to shine when she looked sad and all wondering what they would do once they didn't have the income workers supplied them with, and i was hoping that she'd get a chance to creatively problem solve around it to show a good character moment for her and the rest of hostel... but who am i kidding this is ptj of course he wouldnt do that. nah, it was just a scene so that vasco could introduce jay again and be like "hey guys jay is actually relevant to the story and he's a nice person, just so you guys dont forget that he's still there! and also ignore this deus ex machina ass solution to a conflict that could've been a really interesting character study!!"

so yeah. that's basically it. in conclusion, i think sally park is a HUGE missed opportunity for ptj to finally write a good female character. kind, compassionate, charismatic, smart, sally's got it all. however, just because she is a soft character doesn't mean that she's a pushover and she held tremendous power and authority because of everything she did for her family. however, ptj decides to do nothing with her and turn her into an eli enabler and a warren love interest instead, ignoring her leadership skills and influence.

and once again, no hate to eli, warren, jerry, jay, or any of the other character i just shat on to make a point!! i like all of them, but i just think that sally's character assassination to allow them to shine was an infuriating decision on ptj's part

#lookism #lookism manhwa #eli jang #jang hyun #eli lookism #warren chae #chae wonseok #jerry kwon #kwon jitae #sally park #lookism rant #literature analysis #(?) kinda #hostel #lookism webtoon #jay hong #hong jaeyeol #i hate how ptj treats his female characters #women deserve better

85 notes · View notes

hms-no-fun · 1 year

Note

i remember a while back you saying in one of these asks that you didnt find classpects that interesting as a writing tool (or something similar, i don’t remember the exact wording) but you seem to be referring to them significantly more since then, both textally in godfeels and when you’ve discussed the work like in these asks - has anything changed in your perspective on them?

astute observation!

so, i don't find classpects particularly interesting as a writing tool. i'm not a big fan of mapping out a character beforehand, engaging in that sort of reverse personality quiz process of defining their wants, their needs, their astrological sign, etc. no hate to anyone who does, but for me it's far more interesting to just let the character decide that stuff for themselves. it's the same process of discovery i apply to the rest of godfeels, which is admittedly a sort of insane way to work and probably shouldn't be taken as an example.

so that's a very specific definition of "writing tool" that maybe isn't what other people are thinking of. i can get didactic about these things because i don't like writing advice or things that seem like writing advice if you squint.

you're right though that classpects are more at the front of my mind than they used to be. part of it is just that classpects are about to be a lot more actively relevant to the narrative (albeit not in the way you would expect), so i've obviously been thinking about them more. which, you know, those thoughts do naturally generate fiction activity which shapes how i intend to write future chapters-- in that sense, are classpects not a useful "writing tool" for me? i dunno.

it's not even that i find them more meaningful structurally. i think giving someone a title and then building their character around it is a great way to come up with wooden characters. in the case of the upsilon kids (who you will be meeting very soon), their classpects emerged through writing a bunch of little test scenes. i'd put them in a room together and give them something to react to. i really want to avoid conventional group dynamics with this crew, so i always pushed them to behave in messy ways. and over time it became apparent that what makes them work is their seeming incompatibility, which i shouldn't say much more about until you've actually got some material to draw your own conclusions from. but the point is, it wasn't until i got a good handle on each kid's vibe that i assigned them their classpects, and i assigned them in a way that was deliberately "underwhelming" or seemingly a bad fit. i did this because i don't like the narratological determinism that can arise when you give a character a title they like too much.

i don't like giving writing advice but i highly encourage young writers out there to not be afraid of writing unusable scenes. it helps to be able to think of the writing in the early planning stages as, in some sense, disposable. because the prose isn't the point-- it's getting to the characters as you understand them. there's so many scenes i've written that will not make it into godfeels proper without significant alteration if at all! and look, i know how it is when you feel like you can barely write, so every word you manage to get on the page is precious and needs to be preserved towards the Final Product. sometimes that's correct! precious things always emerge in this process. but it's nowhere near as many as you think, and the hard lesson is understanding the difference between precious and enjoyable. just because you enjoy the thing doesn't make it right for the story. even pretty trash belongs in the bin eventually.

but again, it isn't wasted work. the words aren't the goal, they're just a happy accident. the real work happens in your head.

uh shit anyway so for instance Dana Straten's classpect is Knight of Mind. i must admit she's an outlier among the upsilons in that i picked her classpect in the gf3 prologue with an understanding of her character that was vastly different from who she would end up becoming. back then all i knew about the upsilons was they'd be Dana, Jade's as-yet unnamed daughter, and two others. for a long time, once Julia came in and really breathed life into Dana, i was convinced that Knight of Mind was just wrong. it was a bad choice for her, it didn't make sense, she should have been something else that had cooler power implications and i should just retcon it to something better before anybody notices. this worry resulted in a lot of conversations with my collaborators, ultimately concluding that it was more fun to just play with the hand i'd unwittingly dealt us. so we took the Dana we felt and asked her what Knight of Mind meant to her, figuratively speaking. wrote some scenes, had more conversations. Julia and i have spent a LOT of time discussing Dana's whole situation.

the thing about this is that i don't think our idea of her changed all that much between when she came into her own in like march/april 2021 and when she properly entered the story in summer 2022 (god it feels like that gap should be a lot longer, but i double checked and it's right). much of what we already implicitly understood about Dana remained true. but through our discussions and test scenes, we were able to define those truths in some really useful ways. it was through this process that we textually solidified Dana as someone who doesn't have cool powers, at least not flashy ones anyway. Dana's weapon is her mind-- the ability to use her razor sharp clarity of perception to act on many different forms of knowledge at once. she's not a mind control person, she's not a seeing all eventualities person, she's just a really smart punch person. Knight of Mind, it turns out, was perfect for her, because she doesn't need it. and that realization was very much why i tried to create a similar dynamic with the rest of the upsilons.

so again we ask, does that not make classpects a useful "writing tool" for me? again i answer, i dunno. i don't really care. it's just the process to me. all of it is just the process.

maybe that points to why i was so free with referring to Rose in short as Seer of Mind in that ask. having reached the endpoint of Rose's role in this story, i finally understand what Seer of Light means for her (in godfeels, at any rate). it's that she saw the truth of how the narrative was changing and accepted that it wasn't for her. as in, she saw the light at the end of the tunnel and chose to walk towards it. it's become a shorthand for Rose, you see? i say "Seer of Light" the way i say the name of a friend who was really more of an acquaintance realistically speaking, like we only hung out a couple times a few years ago, but we hit it off so well every time that i was always like "man, i wish we could hang out all the time, we'd be great friends" but just, for one reason or another, it never quite lined up for that to happen. the name of a beloved missed connection, perhaps...

i guess, basically, to put a bow on this: i try not to think about classpects until the character in question is real enough in my mind that they define it rather than the other way around. once again i have no idea if this makes any kind of sense procedurally or if i'm just making my life harder by being stubborn. but then again, the only writing advice any writer can ever give you is how to write the things they already wrote, so

#sarahposts #godfeels #homestuck #rose lalonde #classpects #classpect analysis #seer of light #knight of mind #dana straten #writing advice #i hate writing advice #yet i give it anyway #sarah zedig the hypocrite supreme #of course there's nothing i'd rather be #except maybe financially stable enough to be able to work on godfeels full time #that'd be pretty cool i think

42 notes · View notes

rotationalsymmetry · 7 months

Text

Mm. Read something about the ethics of what gets depicted in media, and it's not the worst take ever but I think it's still a little off. Or at least, it's not really how I see things.

My basic perspective is exposure to ideas is always good, and the answer to exposure to bad ideas is exposure to better ideas.

(Maybe not for very young children, I don't know, maybe three year olds are more likely to punch someone if they see a movie with someone punching someone, I don't know enough about early childhood development etc. I will concede that if young children hear slurs, they will probably repeat those slurs.)

By the time someone is a teenager, and certainly when they're an adult, exposure to sex stuff in general or weird sex stuff is not going to be harmful if they have the ability to avoid it if it's too much for them. Plus a lot of times teens find a way to look at porn whether they are allowed to or not. The answer to degrading porn or porn where strangers fuck without condoms or whatever isn't making sure impressionable young people never see it. It's the same thing as the answer to Disney romances where the heroine marries the prince immediately after meeting him, you expose people to other narratives and other information. Safer sex information. Ideas about getting to know someone for a while before marrying them. Ideas about consent.

I personally have a grudge against It's Cold Outside, for personal reasons that I've gotten into previously, but I don't think people literally rape other people because of a song. If someone gets exposed to a lot of ideas about how it's normal for women to say they don't want sex when they do want sex, and/or ideas that women never want sex and it only ever happens by men tricking or forcing women into it, but also gets exposed to a lot of ideas about consent being important and sexual violence being harmful and direct communication and what women want out of sex when they do want it and what gives them reservations when they kinda want it but aren't sure -- chances are that person is going to end up OK.

Just like how, for instance, someone might get exposed to "Indians" in the most stereotypical way possible in stories like Peter Pan and horribly sanitized Thanksgiving stories, and grow up to support Land Back after getting exposed to enough other concepts. And lot of other people might not get quite to Land Back but will at least know better than to dress up as an "Indian" for Halloween. It's not about 100% avoiding the shitty ideas and the harmful stereotypes, it's having something to counter them.

I kinda liked older stories growing up, and a lot of the older stories had stereotypical gender stuff, with girls aspiring to be mothers over any professional ambitions and whatnot, and that was never really going to have that much of an effect on me because I lived in a world where all the mothers I knew also worked. And all the adults who asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up assumed I was going to work. It wasn't even necessarily a feminism thing, it was just how the world was. Houswives weren't real in an immediate way that was relevant to my life any more than kings and knights were.

And here is another concept. What is in your control, what is not in your control. What a stranger writes: not in your control. What you write, what you read, what you recommend: in your control. When it's professional media, what you spend money on directly or indirectly (paying for a streaming service and watching a show, checking out a book from a library) is in your control, what other people spend money on is not.

I do not have the power to stop everybody in the world from buying Harry Potter stuff. I just don't. So once I stop spending money on Harry Potter stuff myself, that's pretty much the end of the line for me as far as what I can reasonably do about JKR's horrible transmisogyny and whatever term you'll tolerate to describe when people descrive adult trans men as "girls" and argue that they shouldn't be able to decide what to do with their own bodies. I can talk about it with people who aren't already thoroughly saturated in understanding the problem. And that's it. That's all. Done. Trying to go harder is not going to do much. Sometimes it doesn't actually matter how substantial the problem is, there's still limits to what one person can reasonably do about it. And I hate that tumblr has a much stronger culture of tearing down the people we hate than lifting up the people we love.

3 notes · View notes

absolxguardian · 1 year

Note

I’m of the opinion that canon event are basically a misinterpretation by the society. Like the only real examples we get are:

1. 2099’s backstory where he goes well beyond changing one or two moments but rather inserts himself into the other universe

2. Miles saving the captain in Parvitr’s universe, a moment that’s insisted is Miles’ fault but is so visually representative of spot and happens immediately after also being changed by Spot’s presence, arguably to a much higher degree.

One could also argue that Gwen convincing her father to leave the force and as such subverting that canon event should have a similar effect but we see no repercussions to this, especially nothing on the scale of the previous points.

All this to say, I think Miles should do his own thing.

I can certainly see Miguel's actions violating a metaphysical law that averting canon events through interdimensional interference doesn't. I get the sense that the Spider Society has had to deal with other consequences of canon events being averted, which is why they had machines at the ready. But you know, we shouldn't take a "surprise they're the antagonists" organization like them at their word. Maybe all the events they've had to contain have more to do with the interdimensional beings involved rather than the events they prevented. (Also if you take the MCU cameos seriously, from some characters' prespective the multiverse is relatively young, and the predecessor to canon events weren't actual reflections of metaphysical law, but artificially engineered. Idk, someone who actually follows the MCU can probably better write about that than me. I just dipped my toe in with Loki and then gave up.)

However I don't think Gwen has been able to rules lawyer her way out of her dad's death. The discussion about canon events reminds me of when you're plotting out AUs. You need to try to keep the character and contextual elements the same, but simple things like "not being a police captain at the moment" doesn't disqualify it from working, especially if it causes the same character development. Spider-knight from a medieval fantasy universe doesn't have a police captain close to him die, but rather a bailiff or fellow knight.

Stuff like this is why I'm at a loss. My knowledge of the tone of the spiderverse movies and how stories work is conflicting with my in-universe assessment of the situation. The best I got is that as a second spiderman, Miles doesn't have to do canon events. Because when you think about it from an meta perspective- say you got a Batman who isn't rich and doesn't have dead parents. You go "well why is he Batman?" Now if the answer is "This is a member of the batfam who inherited the mantle of Batman after Bruce Wayne retired", then it makes sense. In fact, said successor Batman having character beats similar to the original would strain suspension of disbelief. Why are similar events happening again in the same universe? But when you're dealing with a new Batman continuity, you need to hit those similar beats so that it makes sense why this character is a Batman (unless you're doing a "what if x didn't happen to Batman", but then you're not telling a story about Batman, you're telling a story about Bruce Wayne with alive parents).

But like I said, if that's the case, then the Spider Society just needs to refine their models (and probably interview successor spiderpeople, Miles can't be the only one, even if he's the only anomalous one). That's not a satisfying ending when dealing with these surprise antagonist organizations. I'm not skeptical about the writer's ability to stick the landing, I just can't imagine how they would. It was also a bit cognitively dissonant watching a movie where everything you've seen tells you the protagonist is in the wrong.

#across the spiderverse

8 notes · View notes

embossross · 1 year

Note

Hellooooooo what a pleasure to read you again! I quickly checked the previous chapter because my memory is failing me and now that I'm ready, isn't it time for the live-reaction ???

We'll start with CW chapter : SO. MANY. THINGS ? fjskjigj I'm blushing in anticipation.

"Because this will inevitably end." Yes, because we're talking about Hanma. I can't imagine an "and they lived happily ever after" ending, but rather an "and they lay dismembered in this makeshift grave dug by the Haitanis brothers for eternity".

Note to myself: I should think about stopping reading smut at the office, because the stress level it brings me is beyond bearable (but it's still worth it with yours so I'll keep living dangerously).

I feel a little sad for Reader and Takashi. They could have the keys to happiness and yet.. it doesn't work. Even when he offers to buy a house together (which is, in a couple, a beautiful proof of long-term commitment and love) it sounds very clinical. Also, she doesn't seem to feel too guilty about having sex with another man, which makes sense since it's clear she's never been in love with Takashi, but it's still a pity.

"You aren't afraid of Hanma. You are terrified of Haitani." THIS. YES. Ran's presence, his aura, his charisma, everything about him screams danger and in Reader's place, I'd just be a puddle of panic.. as she should.

My God, that ending. I've got too many questions. Who's more dangerous to her ? Hanma or Ran ? Or maybe Kisaki ? Could Hanma really hurt her ? I think so, but part of me thinks not. He could destroy her life, but would it benefit him ? And Ran.. Yes, Ran could actually go after her in order to get to Hanma.. But is Hanma a knight in shining armor ready to save the princess in distress ? Absolutely. fucking. not. But he showed with that phone thing that he wanted to protect her soooooo..

I'm going to fire up my brain and wait for the next chapter, which may provide the answers to my questions.. Thanks for this chapter, it was worth the wait, I can't wait to see what happens next <33

your feedback on chapters always makes me kick my blankets and squeal. you're just such a perfect audience member because you take from the chapter exactly what i want a reader to take. like, all your questions at the end about what might happen and what characters are capable of are exactly what i hope you leave the chapter with.

of course that means, i can't answer like any of them like you said lol but still it's got me squealing :)

takashi is a real filler man. i actually don't think he and reader could have loved one another in another life/world because i think a less cautious version of Doc wouldn't have bothered with him in the first place. he's just not around ever 🤷‍♀️

love writing ran! real matter of perspective here because in this story, where there is no bonten, hanma is objectively the more dangerous one, but from where reader's standing? not so much. (someone pointed out that ran is actually shorter than hanma, and i'm torn between shrugging and saying ran is wearing 5" platform shoes or going with the more serious answer and saying Doc's perspective is warped because of her fear, so she's making him taller lol)

wishing you the most covert, sexy office smut reading! may you never get caught 😘

#this ask has me tremendously excited to get into ch 12 too #because i want to answer all those questions for you!#thanks for the inspo #and for following this story for so long #you're the best #asks

3 notes · View notes

kylesvariouslistsandstuff · 1 year

Text

Whenever One Of Those Disney Remakes Comes Out...

This was originally a Twitter thread that I wrote the other day, and wanted to repost it here because I... Accidentally deleted the first tweet, haha...

Anyways... Regarding "shallow" Disney romances, plot elements of the animated films that supposedly don't add up, and how these remakes supposedly "improve" on them or "add depth"...

For all the talk about some Disney romances happening in such ostensibly short amounts of time or feeling kind of halfhearted... It becomes apparent when you step back and think about it, possibly... but there's a reason the stories hold up and work despite this perceived issue... That's animation and lyrical storytelling bypassing what's supposed to be realistic. That's one of the medium's very special abilities...

Like, most people watching those Disney animated classics back when they came out were so engrossed in the stories and even the romances, because animation like that is really on its own plane of existence, operating on a unique wavelength that really makes it all register so seamlessly. But there's also plenty of substance & depth in what's being told, as it's woven in there by the visual (and sometimes visceral) storytelling itself. That's a big thing for me with Disney's animated movies, that they can establish so much in such short bursts in an 80-90min runtime.

A lot of what's often said about certain animated films reminds me of "style over substance", which is a phrase I absolutely can't stand. The style *can* be the substance, actually... it's there if the one watching is on the film's wave. Otherwise, it's just pretty pictures and noise to them.

A lot of my favorite Disney animated movies play this game very well, going all the way back to Walt's output. That there can be so much feeling, emotion and ideas in mere drawings mixed w/ music, dialogue, editing choices, etc. It's often hard for me to explain, but I naturally feel it whenever I watch it.

And that's not even getting into the language of fairy tales and fantasy stories, often laden with symbolism and metaphors and such, which are also on their own wavelength entirely. I feel, when you try to take all of that so literally, to make it "realistic" and feasible in another medium, let alone apply these ideas completely to *real life* itself... you're breaking it apart and overdressing it. Hiding its unique essence, ripping it away even. The fantasy element is dialed down, which kind of takes away from the whole appeal?

As I get older and I really try to nail how I write fantasy stories myself, I find the connection between this kind of fantasy and reality fascinating, how they in different ways inform each other. Not in the sorta "cute" ways that you can put into a neat little box ("Disney movies once taught me-"), but much more complex than that.

I'd say in terms of a recent live-action fantasy movie, one of the most interesting was David Lowery's THE GREEN KNIGHT, an adaptation of Arthurian legend, which really embraced a kind of lyricism and dream-like logic that you don't often see these days. Even in mainstream animated movies that favor talking heads scripting over this kind of thing. Naturally, it was "confusing" for some. I know I was kinda lost when I first saw it, but I couldn't stop thinking of the intricate texture of the piece after I left the theater. It's a feat when a movie of any kind can preserve that onscreen, not what was only in the text.

Of course, a classic animated movie isn't immune to criticism, but sometimes I think a lot of what I see written online is done out of misunderstanding of the animation medium (does that peer pressure from when they were 10 years old still linger in their heads?), and there's a lack of media literacy there as well. As if the CinemaSins crew are in charge here, nitpicking small things that don't matter while missing the much bigger picture. Animation and fantasy like this require a nuanced perspective to dig in, I feel.

Animation itself, when executed like this, is just really on a whole other field... And those who dig the films so much, I feel they naturally get it and don't knock the movies for these perceived "issues". Nor make rash generalizations about a whole body of work, which is also common with some folks who talk a good show about Disney animated movies. Even Disney themselves, which is always concerning, but this is nothing new. As far back as the late '80s/early '90s, various people who worked for them or on their movies echoed these kinds of weird reductionist sentiments, too... And I feel it really all boils down to... These movies are animated. Thus shallow, for children, lacking, without much substance...

If not that, then I feel it's a misunderstanding of how these outlandish stories work and what level they are on... Almost like it's being reduced to a "that was weird!" MCU-level joke, or- Again, fodder for CinemaSins or some garden variety Nostalgia Critic-style video.

4 notes · View notes

damienthepious · 2 years

Note

If you’re doing commentary for biohc then “arum is being ignored - Lord Arum may be perfectly content to ignore him in turn.” (Also maybe a snapshot of rillas perspective in the last paragraph with arum? please?)

[Pick a short passage from any fanfic I’ve written and send it to me, and I’ll give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet]

ohhhhhh fuck yes oh okay. (cw references to self harm)

[Arum is being ignored. Soundly and surely.

... Why?]

Arum hasn't had much cause to analyze anyone else's actions socially in quite a long time, and he wasn't particularly good at it way back when either, otherwise he might have caught on to this a bit sooner. Regardless, he doesn't trust it.

[If it is out of pity for what happened yesterday then Arum will-]

ahhhh, the main problem. Arum knows that his situation is pathetic, but he REFUSES to be pitied, especially for (what he considers) his absolutely shameful display the day before. He's so fucking embarrassed not only to have broken down like that, but to have done it in front of this pain in the ass. Arum still, in some small way, has a spark of his pride in him.

[(Nothing. Arum can do nothing. A thousand threats in his head and Arum cannot even hurt himself beyond superficially. Arum can do nothing.)]

he's SO angry and has ZERO ability to follow through on it. And he's far, far past the point of admitting it. Yes, he still has his pride, but he knows... he knows that he's beaten. He's biding his time, because that's the ONLY thing that he can do.

[Not that a knight would pity him. Discomfort is more likely.]

Pivot: he can't do anything about his anger, so set it aside. Discomfort from a knight makes him less angry, so it's easier to brush off.

[Well... fine, then. Fine. Ignoring Arum is much better than the last few obnoxious shifts together, isn't it? Arum wanted this miserable creature to shut his mouth and leave Arum be, and miracle of miracles, the rotten thing might actually obey.]

It is so fucking difficult to write around these two not knowing each other's names. Can't tell you how eager I am to get past that point. Also, you can very clearly see Arum talking himself into feeling this way, here.

[Nothing has obeyed Arum in... however long he has been here. Arum should find the change refreshing.]

I'm keeping it very deliberately vague, the ACTUAL amount of time that Arum's been captive. Mostly because there is literally NO way for Arum to know, considering that his prison is deep in the Citadel. He can't even tell day from night, let alone keep track of passing days.. months..... years. I think it's been... more than two years, less than five. I don't know if I'll narrow it down more than that.

[If-

That is, if Arum could find a way to focus on anything else besides the knight ignoring him in his rhythmic circle. He is so wretchedly distracting. Which-]

Alas, he started paying attention to Damien when he was expecting him to start bothering him again, so.... it's difficult to unpin that attention.

[Is strange, because Arum did not find any of his colleagues distracting in the interim. Perpetually ignorable, all the queen's knights and guards. Except- this one. Apparently.]

The difficulty with Damien thus far has been a breach in routine. The other knights may as well be parts of the scenery, for Arum. Damien has been too different to ignore, though. And now, even when he's ostensibly acting like all the others, he's done too much to differentiate himself, and it feels like a veneer. Which... to be fair.... it IS. It IS a veneer. Damien is playing at a lack of care and it is, very likely, driving Damien EXACTLY as crazy as it's driving Arum.

[That little pit of fury kindles brighter at the base of Arum's throat, refreshing heat against the dullness of his surroundings. Of course, even in silence this creature finds a way to torment Arum. Of course he does. He must know that Arum expects further stilted conversational attempts, further interrogation, further annoyance altogether, and instead of providing, he must be ignoring Arum deliberately, in an effort to force yet another outburst from the monster.]

Here, you can see Arum talking himself into something again. Or at least, he's taking a LONG mental walk to justify his instinctive reactions. He's ascribing malice to Damien's actions without any real evidence,

[Either that, or the knight is simply inconstant and unreliable and a menace to Arum's fragile peace of mind in that way, instead.]

This is far more accurate lmao. Damien, ironically, isn't really thinking about how his see-saw reactions might be affecting Arum. He's busy in his OWN head. working out how he feels about Arum's captivity. lololololol.

[Well, Arum thinks with a huff, the knight will certainly not be provoking Arum to any tirades today. If this particular knight wishes to ignore Lord Arum, late of the Swamp of Titan's Blooms, Lord Arum may be perfectly content to ignore him in turn.]

"late of the Swamp of Titan's Blooms" was a phrase that hurt my heart to write. Arum, in his own head, being darkly flippant about it... god..... poor thing.

AND. RILLA SCENE QUICK.. u said last paragraph with arum so i'm assuming you want when they're actually interacting before she bolts off,

[She grins again as she watches him do this, which Arum does not trust. She either does not notice or care about his suspicion, though,]

she cares inasmuch as she completely fucking understands why this monster would not trust her. Not so quickly, and not after everything he's clearly been through.

[because she only nods at him, winks,]

gods i love rilla. she's still in her Investigating What's Going On In Here phase but she STILL needs to really, REALLY cement her solidarity with this creature she barely knows.

[and whispers, "I'll be back sometime, okay? And maybe then you can tell me your name."]

this is like Arum thinking, earlier, about how WEIRD it is that Rilla assumes that Arum is sentient right off the bat. She assumes, without needing to be told, that Arum has a name. That she should call him something besides monster, or even swamp lord. And she's also promising him another chance at this, more "conversation" and more pages like the ones he clearly wanted to devour. Rilla is observant, and she saw him. She wants to figure out what the fuck is going on here, and that means she's coming back. 💖💜💖

#elle's fanfic meta #the beast in on his chain #asks #anon #hope you enjoy this rambly essay!!!

4 notes · View notes

randaccidents · 5 years

Text

Breaking and Entering

Ah the first week of school! The easiest way to drain all your writing juices. Stuffs gonna slow down from here and not like 3 fics a week like what I was doing, but I’m unlikely (cause I never finish promises) to stop now cause I have like *leans over to check* about 10 WIP fics I wanna write with new ideas every week soooooo...

Right the fic! Its a fic! Yayy I wrote things. The dialogue might come off as clunky cause school punched me in the guts while I was trying to write that.

Shadow People AU from the wondrous mind of @mine-sara-sp

TW: toxic thoughts, self-harm, self-blame, description and talk of that loneliness that seeps into your chest and hooks in deep and never ever wants to let go making you doubt your actions

Crypt broke into someone’s base and left with the real treasure and a no-no word gets thought.

The pickaxe shatters in his hands. Mechanically, he replaces it with another, adding to his internal count. That was the fifth iron pick he’s broken thus far. Another 3 to break before he had to surface and go to the shadow meetup. The thought of that made the hole in his chest feel twice as large, and he swung his pick hard enough that the shattered rock flew in large chunks around him.

It wasn’t that he was feeling lonely or left out. He had friends. He had 3D, and Phas, and TFC, and Abyss, and the grey stone that surrounded him on all sides. He had a pick in hand, a reason to keep chipping away at stone walls all day. He was fine!

...and he was a big old fool, to continue to believe that lie.

Collecting another pile of coal, he silently wondered if this was what the other shadows saw of him. A useless lump of black, easily replaced by better sources of fuel and light, cast aside like it was nothing. Bitterly, he broke the next block of stone, left hand holding onto the coal piece. Now he had only one use, like the coal he held - to ensure that 3D remained happy and unbothered by the venom of the other shadows, just like how the coal was only useful for torches that lit up the few blocks surrounding it. Ugly, practical, no use in the canvas of almost every build.

So deep into his bitterness, it came as a surprise when he broke through into a cavernous room. This wasn’t the first time he had broken into another person’s base, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. He guessed that he should check whose base this was and its size before he closed the hole he made in the wall, if only so that he wouldn’t accidentally break into it again.

Stepping through the hole, the first thing he noticed was just how large and sprawling the whole build was. This was going to be a pain to dig around, he could just feel it. Looking around, he took note of the many scattered blocks of precious ores lying around the room. This hermit seemed to be very rich. He would guess Jevin, but the slime wasn’t disorganised with his ores. Maybe Scar? The build of the room didn’t quite hold enough details to pin it to the hermit though. Looking around, he felt the beginnings of anxiety rise up his throat as he fully registered the scale of the room, how open it felt to stand under its ceiling. Picking a random hallway, he ducked into it and began counting how many blocks wide this end of the build was.

Walking down the large hallway, Crypt peered into every room he came across, curiosity overriding his earlier anxieties and bitterness. It’s been a long while since he had broken into someone’s base, although that was mostly because he heard this season was all about building up the overworld. Feeling the loneliness of being left out beginning to choke up his insides, he quickly ducked into the nearest room, slipping past the door in search of a distraction.

To his surprise, he found a room full of greenery and wildlife, parrots and bunnies and wolves and other animals lazing about the room. Looking up revealed a glass covered ceiling, redstone lamps shining through coloured glass to give everything a pleasant blue tint. Light humming music drifted through the room, backlit by the sound of water flowing through the room. Crypt took another step into the room, entranced. The room was expertly put together, a feeling of openness enmeshed with closeness in a dizzying mix of comfort he never thought he could feel in such an open room. Leaning against a nearby hand-crafted tree, Crypt closed his eyes. The room felt so isolated, cut off from the world around, that he couldn’t help but feel at peace. Despite all that, some small part of him was still counting the seconds, waiting for the moment he was meant to surface from the underground and meet up with 3D. He might have time to be alone now, but he’s meant to be easy to deal with, so he counts the seconds in his head instead of in the durability of his pickaxe.

Once he’s mentally reached two iron pickaxes left, he pushed himself off the tree. Stretching, he looked out wistfully over the garden room. This had been a great place to relax after his exhaustingly painful thoughts, but he still had to count the size and shape of the whole base. Turning away, he headed for the entrance.

And came face to face with two identical shadows, frozen in the doorway staring at him. He similarly froze, caught like a sheep eyed by wolves.

One of the two shadows seemed to snap himself out of it first. He came walking forward, holding out a hand to Crypt. “Hi, Crypt right? I don’t think we really got to meet properly considering what happened the last time we saw each other. I’m Cavalier! Welcome to the Hoard!”

Crypt looked down at the hand offered to him. Noting down the purple-and-yellow feathered wristband the shadow - Cavalier - wore, he added another identifiable shadow to his mental list of those he knew as he grasped the hand in a warm shake. Who else was new here that he had never met? Who else did he meet and never remember? Swallowing the sudden surge of bitterness, he gave Cavalier a warm smile. “Yes, I’m Crypt. I don’t quite remember where I met you first, but you are a very kind shadow.”

He could sense the moment when he messed up, feel the sudden tension run a rod straight through Cavalier into his grasp. “I’m not a kind shadow.” whispered Cavalier, his eyes averted and refusing to meet his.

Well, he couldn’t have any of that. No matter how toxic this line of thinking was, only he was allowed to feel sad in any form. He squeezed the hand he held lightly. “Cavalier, I may not know who you were or what you have done before I met you, but you have yet to drive me out of what is clearly your house, instead welcoming me for visiting. You are kind.”

“And so are you Crypt, to comfort Cavalier so quickly.”

The voice might have sounded like Cavalier’s, but it didn’t fool Crypt. Meeting Paladin’s eyes, he offered up a fragile smile. “Hello Paladin. Speaking of which, I may have broken into your area by accident. Is it alright for me to measure the size of this Hoard of yours?”

Paladin looked up at the ceiling in thought. Crypt felt Cavalier let go of his hand, the shadow moving to lean against Paladin to whisper into his ear, and felt a stab of jealousy that he quickly buried. No, he wasn't jealous of their bond, not at all.

"There might be a few problems with that actually," Paladin began, holding up his hand as they began to list out his reasons. "Firstly, the Hoard kinda twists and turns a lot, branching out in many directions. Secondly, I’m pretty sure that Keloid and Avarice intend to keep expanding the Hoard. Third, I kind of have a forge in here that may or may not expand. So it’s going to be difficult for you to really measure something that’s going to keep expanding.”

Crypt sighed dejectedly. This direction would be blocked off to him then. Reminding himself that he was meant to be easy to handle, he steeled his heart and gave them as careless a wave as he could. “It’s no matter. I can always tunnel another direction.” The durability counted steadily downwards in his mind. He turned and began walking towards the doorway, throwing a final comment over his shoulder. “I’ll show myself out. Sorry to break in.”

“Wait!” A hand grabbed his arm, bringing him to a gentle halt. He turned, raising an eyebrow at Cavalier. The shadow fidgeted under his gaze, suddenly uncertain of himself. "Uhm, since we didn't really meet before, a-and I don't know when we'll meet again, do you want to join us for a bit? Just to chat? You don't have to if you're busy, I understand!"

Looking at Cavalier was a mistake. Crypt questioned how anyone could say no to Cavalier. Sighing good-naturedly, he moved to a tree behind Cavalier, patting his helmet as he passed. Sliding to a sitting position, he smiled up at the stunned duo. "Well? I don't have a season you know."

Cavalier was quick to rectify that problem, practically throwing himself to the floor before Crypt, to the amusement of the other two in the room. Stomach down on the floor, he interlaced his fingers in a peak, resting his head upon it. Paladin leaned himself against Cavalier's side, amusement written across his face. Cavalier spoke up, not pausing for a single faux-breath. "What do you normally do? I don't see you around much, but you're from last season so you must have done something, right?"

Crypt smiled down at the excited shadow. Having someone be curious about him, wanting to know about him, was something new and foreign and oh so lovely. With warmth bubbling through his chest, he began to answer.

"You're right, I am from last season. But normally…"

-------------------------

Paladin was mid-rant about the difficulties of smelting emerald into workable tools when Crypt's mental timer went off, snapping the last pickaxe in twain. It was time to meet up with 3D for the shadow meetup. He found that he didn't want to leave, comfortable in his surroundings and the people around him, who were genuinely interested in what he had to say. But he had a job to do.

With a small grunt of effort, he pushed himself to his feet, cutting off Paladin's rant. "Crypt, what's wrong?" he asked, concerned. The tone of voice made Crypt shake his head wistfully. Ah, to feel concern for him not borne of pity. He hefted the pickaxe he still held in his right hand. "It's about time for the shadow meetup. I have to meet with 3D, and I suggest you two prepare to leave too, or you might be late. See you fellas around soon."

Turning, he headed straight for the exit, only for a whisper of words to stop him in his tracks. "We haven't been in weeks, not since the first time Cav went…"

Whipping around, Crypt regarded the two shadows before him. Paladin was glaring at the ground, face severe. Beside him, Cavalier had managed to sit up, his face reflecting pained memories. Something dropped in the pit of his stomach. He could just comfort them, he knew, but part of him screamed to, for once, know what had happened. He asked the dreaded question, voice as gentle as he could without sounding like pity. He out of every shadow would know that pity helped no one. "What happened the first time?"

Cavalier's hand moved to clutch his wrist, tightening around the wristband that lay there as he looked away. "You know the one you shouted at?" Paladin asked.

He flinched. Oh, so it was his fault. He really shouldn't have tried to connect to the loop. Paladin looked up at him, face softening. "It wasn't you. You saved him actually. Coda was going to destroy his wristband."

"I fail to see the problem."

Paladin tilted his head at Cavalier, directing his attention. He could see Cavalier's fingers tighten, cutting holes into his arm. He wanted to comfort the shadow who had been so happy just minutes ago, yet he could tell that if he moved from his spot, neither of them would tell him what had happened.

And he was so tired of not knowing what had happened.

"You know Puzzler?" At his nod, Cavalier continued, fingers digging further. "He gave those who served him gifts. I was one of them. All the gifts were supposed to be destroyed after the war, but I kept mine. It's… important. To me." Cavalier turned his gaze to his wristband. "They didn't like that."

He found himself wanting to know more, to understand this part of the war no one wanted to talk about. But he could also see when his questioning would only cause grief. Moving to kneel before the knights, he gently began to pry Cavalier's fingers open. "Is that why you said you weren't kind? Because of what you did in the past?"

Cavalier's small nod, his guilty body language, reminded him so much of 3D. He patted the shadow's hand as he pried open the final finger. "But you're trying to be better now, to repair relations with them, and that's proof enough that you are kind."

Another hand pressed over theirs, making Crypt lift his head. Paladin was still looking away from them, but the shake of his hands spoke for him. Crypt squeezed his hand, prompting a sigh. "Trying works for him.” he whispered, voice choked and bitter. “Me? Two seasons later and only one new family member to show for it. I don’t think anyone notices if I’m even there. Makes it that much harder to be there for him. So we don't go anymore."

He heard the loneliness, the pained longing to be part of a community in Paladin's voice. It was a pain that he was well versed in. Some part of him guiltily rejoiced, he didn't expect to find someone else who understood, but it was overshadowed by his friends’ - could he call them friends? He decided that he would. - hurt. Gently, he pressed their combined hands to his forehead. “I understand,” he murmured, pushing himself to encompass all of his sincerity in his limited words. “It hurts, when no one cares enough to know if you’re even there anymore, or ask where you went. It’s a hole in your chest, something that doesn’t fill up because no one truthfully takes you seriously." He squeezed gently, ignoring the insistent sound of shattering iron in his head. "But you're not alone. You have each other, and from what I know those vexed shadows care too. Being in the loop is not the best, in all honesty. No one really cares about how little old Crypt feels anyway."

"But I- we do." came the soft whisper from his left, from the hand with purple and yellow wrapped around its wrist. The hand leading towards blue didn't respond, shifting as if to pull away. Crypt held on tight, lifting his head to meet their gazes. Paladin was quick to break off, looking away guiltily even as Cavalier held his gaze. Normally, this would have hurt more, reopened the hole in his chest. But after their conversations, after them both listening attentively to him rant about stones without judgement, their tones of concern and desire to be with him, he instead felt immense sadness that they couldn't see that they cared, and were kind.

Was this what Abyss meant when he said he was blind?

Paladin was still turned away from him. How could he comfort someone who wasn't even looking? A small memory poked at the back of his mind, and he let it guide him. Twisting his body slightly, he leaned forward to rest against Paladin's side, just as Phas always did with him. He thinks that it was a form of comfort. He knows that Paladin and Cavalier enjoyed touch, always reaching for a hand to hold. He hopes that this wasn't the wrong choice, feeling the knight tense up at his touch.

Then, Paladin relaxed, leaning into him in return. Crypt felt another presence press hesitantly against his back. He shifted slightly, allowing the presence to slot in among them, softly and gently cradled against his being. It was… warmth, something sliding in to fill a gap in his chest.

Paladin shifted slightly, poking him in the side. “Didn’t you say you had to go to the shadow meetup?”

… fuck.

He jumped out of the comfortable pile of shadows and headed for the door, grabbing his pickaxe as words stumbled out of his mouth. “I have to go so sorry it was nice meeting you two.”

Twin voices vocalised their goodbyes as he turned the corner and ran down the hallway. A voice snaked its way along the walls, carrying a question. “Will you come back and visit again?”

He blinked, seeing his shadow fly across the walls and keep pace with him, a perfect replica of his body. Shaking his head good-naturedly, he gave his shadow a grin and a thumbs up. Turning another corner, he left his unnaturally formed shadow behind, the shape buzzing excitedly as it zoomed back down the hall.

Bursting into the large cavern from earlier, Crypt quickly located the hole he had made and dove in, rushing to make up for lost time. It wasn’t until he hit the first branch in the passageway that he stopped, a problem suddenly before him.

He’d promised he would visit. He wanted to visit. But he didn’t have anything to mark the route to the Hoard. Rummaging through his inventory, he came across the pile of coal he had mined earlier. Bingo. Pulling out the dusty sticks TFC had summoned him with, he jerry-rigged a few torches together, striking the coal against shards of stone. Placing the torch down, he spared a second to admire his ingenuity before the mental striking of broken pickaxes sent him careening down the strip mine, torches lighting up every branch, something forgotten given new use.

#shadow people au #crypt #paladin #cavalier #me? writing from a perspective that isn't knights? more likely than you think #this was meant to be comfort but then the hurty held me at gunpoint #but its ties well #sorry if its messy school is a bitch #aight trigger tags time #toxic thoughts #self-harm #self-blame #extreme loneliness #sad bois in general too #my writing #I give these boys more friends

8 notes · View notes

kdj-225 · 2 years

Note

um um short royalty isekai joongdok???? kdj transmigrating into a world where he is the emperor and yjh is his trustworthy knight 🤭🤭🤭 (its ok if you cant write this or if it's not exact, i love your writing so much!!!!!!)

[!!! I'm so glad you enjoy my written works, thank you so much!! I had fun writing this prompt, I hope you like it as well!! 💕💖💕💜]

note: this is first person POV, from KDJ's perspective!

cw for: passing jokes on death / dying

----

※DO NOT REPOST / HOST MY WORK ON OTHER APPS OR SITES

A year has already passed since my transmigration into this web novel.

A year of struggling not to fall into anxiety at my current reality as the emperor of a fictional kingdom, a year of fooling my own people that I was perfectly hale and healthy and not going insane at my own transmigration, and a year of me having to figure out just what I could do so I wouldn't accidentally set myself up with a death flag with the smallest of actions.

One damn year, and the heroine could finally take my dangerous knight commander away so I didn't have to keep being under his watchful eye, and they could have their happy ending.

For all that I'd read what felt like a million webnovels in my original life, and for all that I loved certain tropes enough to read them over and over in different stories, I could still remember the plot for this novel I'd been thrown into.

It was typical, for a romance fantasy fiction.

The heroine was a saintess born into the life of a commoner, with a heart of gold intent on serving the people. Her male lead was the cold and unfaltering Knight Commander, the youngest person to have ever received such a title in the empire, and her childhood friend. Both people skilled on opposing sides—one in saving lives, with the other in taking them—yet with loyalty similarly sworn to the kingdom.

And between them was the emperor, who sought to have the saintess to himself. For power? For love? For sheer greed?

I had no idea. I wasn't able to finish the webnovel, considering how it had been ongoing the last time I read it.

"Your Majesty. Stop shaking your leg."

I stopped shaking my leg, realizing a little too late that I'd been doing it at all. "I admire your gall to tell your emperor what to do," I said, frowning when I gave Joonghyuk a look. "Can't you guard me from the outside?"

"You have a window behind you."

"If I die, I die."

Joonghyuk scowled at me. Somehow, he could still look handsome while making such an ugly expression. "Your Majesty. I don't appreciate such jokes."

Oh, but were they really jokes? Maybe I could go back to my original world if I die. It wasn't like I was brave enough to test it out myself, so if someone else could do me a favor...

I smiled. Well, there was no point to thinking such things when my Knight Commander was so scarily efficient with his work.

"My apologies. I'll try to be more tasteful with my jokes next time."

"Please don't joke at all."

"Ah, but where's the fun in that," I sighed, finishing signing off on a document about opening an investigation for a potentially corrupt baron. "You are boring enough as is, Joonghyuk-ah. I can't let you get any more boring when you're with me."

He raised a brow. "Is that why you've set up a ball for me."

It wasn't even a question. This guy really was a weirdo, regardless of his status as the male lead.

"You're my favorite knight," I teased, putting my pen down so I could rest my cheek into my upright palm. "Isn't it only fair to celebrate you and your achievements?"

"You wish to marry me off."

"I wish to see you happy."

I received a mysterious look in response. If this series were a webtoon, then perhaps I'd have a better chance at deciphering his expressions, but it had yet to be adapted into comic form when I read it.

Ah, really. This guy was the one who made things so much more difficult for me than they needed to be. At least Lee Seolhwa was easier to deal with, given her prioritization of healing as a practice.

"How about Your Majesty?"

I cocked my head to one side in question. "What about me?"

"If marriage equates to happiness, I don't understand why you haven't chosen your own spouse yet."

I wanted to tell him that I had no right to such happiness in a world that isn't mine. That I didn't deserve to create a family here, when there was still a chance of me going back. That I wasn't meant for marriage at all.

But I couldn't.

So I said, "Your happiness is enough for me, Joonghyuk-ah."

"Is that so."

"Yes."

He gave me a long look. Again, it was difficult for me to decipher.

"Then you will not question my choice later," he said.

I blinked at him, then smiled widely. Of course, it was like that. Yoo Joonghyuk has known Lee Seolhwa for long enough even before my transmigration that he must have built up such feelings for her even without my meddling. He must be wary that his emperor would feel envious of his choice, right?

But I wasn't that emperor from the original novel. I wouldn't interfere with their happiness.

"I won't, Joonghyuk-ah."

He nodded.

Was it just me, or was he smiling a little?

"Good to know, Your Majesty."

---

I should have taken his words for the warning that they were. I should have realized that something was wrong from the start.

If I had prepared myself better, I would've known what to say now that my Knight Commander was kneeling in front of me.

I couldn't even swear.

"Joonghyuk-ah, what is the meaning of this..?"

My voice was shaky, for all my efforts to remain calm.

Joonghyuk didn't mind it, as he did just take my trembling hand. I had just announced what the ball's purpose was with him at my side, I had told everyone of his achievements—

Then he'd abruptly kneeled upon one knee in front of me, and told me that he wanted me.

This couldn't have been in the novel at all. The ball itself might not have been prepared by the emperor in the original novel, but surely, such a change couldn't have led to something this insane?

"I told you," he said, taking my hand closer to press a kiss upon my gloved knuckles. He didn't seem to mind the increase in volume from everyone else's gossiping and murmuring. "You are the person I want as my spouse. Did you not say?"

His eyes, dark and deep as they were, glinted brightly under the chandelier lights.

"You won't question my choice, Your Majesty."

Fuck.

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #fanfic #my writing #request #kim dokja pov #joongdok #kim dokja

212 notes · View notes

glowingbadger · 3 years

Note

I’m currently doing the black eagles route, and I got total brain worms for the concept of Yandere!Seteth falling for Byleth, but then she ends up siding with Edelgard, but in a twist of fate the knights of seiros manage to capture her when they ambush garreg mach…and they deliver her right to Seteth for some good ol’ fashioned ✨ reconditioning ✨

Oh man Friend Anon this wiggled right into my brain and did not let me go lol guess it's time to write some Dark Shit™️. Since I don't write Yandere as often, I'm honestly not sure if I hit the right balance of like... "this is fucked up and he's fucked up" vs. "but like he's handsome and persuasive so it's fine, right?" lol so idk, hopefully you guys like it. I've been staring at it for too long and now I have no idea if it's any good xD Also God this thing ended up too long- it's like around 6k words I think wtf.

Side note- I actually decided to stick with my usual Reader-Chan perspective for this, but you probably could still just put Byleth there in your brain tbh

Also I guess if Byleth/Reader is with the Black Eagles originally for this, then technically Garreg Mach should fall after that battle, but for narrative purposes, I'm doing kind of a hybrid route where the conflict is ongoing and GM doesn't fall immediately idk man I needed a setting lol

TW: dub con, manipulation, general dark yandere-ish stuff

As always, please do not push yourself to read something you're not comfy with ❤️

Yandere!Seteth (FE3H) x AFAB Reader

Reconditioning

NSFW 18+

Seteth's is the first familiar voice you've heard since your capture and imprisonment in the dungeons beneath Garreg Mach, and you're not certain whether to be relieved or all the more terrified. It's distant at first, but unmistakable still.

"We are not to be disturbed until I specifically send for you, do I make myself clear?"

The soldiers outside of your cell answer in the affirmative, and you hear their boots on the cold stone floors as they depart. You hadn't even realized there had been guards assigned to you specifically. There is a small barred window in the cell door, but the shackles around your wrists had been latched to the wall the moment you'd been taken in, so you've hardly moved an inch in what felt like hours, maybe a full day by now. Your muscles ache, your empty stomach aches worse. You're exhausted, filthy from the battlefield, mouth dry and hair a tossled mess. You had started to think your mind and heart had numbed through in your desperation, dulled by hopelessness. But Seteth's voice stirs something in your chest up to your throat, and you force your head up to watch him as he enters.

Five years look as though they've hardly touched him. Other than perhaps a deeper crease at his brow, he appears unchanged. It's almost crueler this way. Looking at him makes it so easy to imagine simpler days and pleasant chats over tea. You want to say his name, or say anything, but you're silent as he approaches. He seems... Sad isn't quite the right word. Regretful would be closer, if maybe not exact. He breathes out your name, and raises a hand as though to touch your face, but stops himself.

"I often prayed that I would see you again someday," he says, bright green eyes fixed on you, "But... Not like this."

"Seteth..." You finally choke out, your voice rasping painfully in your throat.

"Shh, do not push yourself," he replies. Once more, his hand nears, and when his fingertips graze your cheek, you instinctively lurch away. He looks hurt, and you almost apologize to him. But you remember- he's the enemy commander. He's the reason you're in this cell. He's your captor.

Nonetheless, Seteth sighs softly as he cradles your face in his hand,

"The things they must have done to you... When they took you from us, I feared the worst."

"No, Seteth-" your eyes plead with him, "You don't understand, Edelgard's ideals are similar to your own."

His brow furrows deeply, and he leans close.

"Poor thing, that witch has even poisoned your mind."

"It's not like that, please-! If you would only speak to her, I know-"

"That is enough," his eyes narrow to a glare.

"I could mediate, we could come to an agreement-"

"Silence!" His face twists into a horrible grimace, and the hand that had caressed your cheek is at your throat, his grip forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are wild, his hold at your neck restricts your breathing and pins you to the stone wall. Your heart pounds in your ears. You wonder if Seteth can feel your pulse racing beneath his hand.

Then, slowly, gradually, his expression softens, his grip loosens.

"This isn't why I came to see you."

Your chest rapidly rises and falls as you gulp in precious air. You don't dare to say a word in reply. His touch is gentle once again as he smooths back your hair. Then, he takes a waterskin from his belt.

"I cannot release you, you must understand that," he says with genuine remorse, and you nod, "but I will ensure that you are taken care of. You have suffered so much already..." He raises the water to your lips, one hand under your chin to guide you as he carefully tips the pouch so you can drink from it. It's fresh and clean, cool but not cold. You can't remember water ever tasting so good, and you lap it up gladly. Seteth is patient all the while, watching intently as you gulp down every drop he offers you. Then at last, when the waterskin is spent and he lowers it from your mouth, he runs his thumb across your bottom lip to dry it. You wish there were more, but the invigorating feeling of water in your belly fills you with such relief, you feel gratitude welling up in your chest unchecked.

"It would be foolish to think that things could truly be as they were..." He says, his voice low and bittersweet, "But if you are willing to meet with me, perhaps we can mend what's been broken."

You stay silent, and he steps away. Turning to the heavy cell door, he pauses to say,

"There are others who have been taken in. Your cooperation would reflect positively on them, and may allow the guards to treat them more generously. That is all."

The following day, Seteth brings food when he visits. Good food, at that- not some prison slop, but an array of cooked vegetables, meat and bread that looks to be straight from the dining hall. The scent alone makes you salivate, and your pupils grow wide as he approaches you.

You would be willing to eat from the floor. Frankly, you're surprised the food is plated. You know you can't have your hands free, but eating like an animal would be preferable to starvation. Yet, instead, Seteth carefully feeds you by hand, starting with easier, lighter foods. He regulates your pace, though you very nearly beg him for each bite.

"Easy now, go slowly. Don't overwhelm your stomach all at once and make yourself sick."

On the third day, he brings food and water, and a key. With it, he frees your shackles from the wall, and attaches them instead to a lengthy chain rooted in the floor. Your wrists are still bound behind you, but now you can walk, sit, and at least wander the breadth of your cell. You try to tell Seteth not to feed you today. You try refusing him, struggling, lashing out. He's patient, rebutting your attempts with a parent's measured tolerance, until you finally settle and allow him to feed you once more.

On your fourth day in captivity, Seteth brings a basin of water, towels, and some kind of subtle floral soap. He sets these down on the floor and gestures for you to kneel beside him. Only gradually does it occur to you that he intends to wash you himself. If the situation allowed for emotions like embarrassment, you're sure you'd be beside yourself. But, somewhat surprising even yourself, you simply allow Seteth to begin undressing you. His touch is gentle, even tender as he removes layers of fabric caked in filth and sweat. One dirt-crusted button at a time, he exposes your breasts, your stomach, your hips, his eyes wandering each inch of you with a focused, yet unreadable expression. His arms draw around you, and you feel his breath in your hair as he says,

"I'm going to free one of your arms so I can remove your tunic. Please, do not try anything foolish. I want to help you."

You nod. He opens the cuff around one of your wrists. You should fight. You should try to resist him- take the key and make your escape. Your muscles tense. It may be your only chance. Seteth holds you more firmly against his chest and pulls your clothing from your body. The air around you is cold, but he warms you, surrounds you.

Your muscles are weak from your imprisonment. He could easily overpower you. You relax in his arms.

"Very good, Y/N." He praises you softly, and you feel the words tickle the shell of your ear. Then, the cuff is locked around your wrist once more.

He tugs your breeches down your hips, then legs. Your undergarments soon follow. You're bared completely, but Seteth watches you with a softness in his eyes that's ill suited to a war general. He dampens his hands, then lathers them with the faintly sweet soap, and begins to massage it across your skin.

So good. His hands feel so good; they're calloused and strong, but he's gentle with you. And it's then that you notice you don't shy away from his touch anymore. In fact, you find you subconsciously lean into him. You savor him.

Madness. His care and kindness are breaking you.

"Seteth-" you try to bite back your own voice, but his name comes out too quickly.

"Yes? Do you need something of me?"

His hands run along your sides, and you inhale sharply, arching back.

"Why... Why are you doing all of this for me? I'm... Your prisoner. An enemy."

At first, he doesn't reply. He takes the towel and dampens it, then sets upon scrubbing away the filth of your last battle and the grime of your time locked up. At last, he says,

"I have never been capable of viewing you as an enemy."

You're about to question him further, but the way he looks at you stalls the words before you can get them out. For the first time since he'd discarded your clothing and left your body exposed to him, you meet his eyes. He leans close, an arm around your back to cradle you to him, as the other cleans you, caresses you, soothes you. Then, his lips are on yours, and you're almost glad your shackles keep you from reaching out to him.

It's not a delicate kiss- more the type that lovers share. You'd imagined kissing Seteth before, back when you had the luxury of such pleasant idle fantasies. It was never anything like this. His tongue passes your lips, toying with yours as he tilts his head and leans into you. And you kiss him back. Your lips and tongue move on instinct, welcoming him despite all reason. Your mind is screaming at you, but the screams sound muffled and far away. At some point, he dropped the towel he'd been using in the water basin. You only realize this because his hand is running up your inner thigh, and you gasp against his lips.

"Did that wretched woman take you as her own, I wonder?" He whispers into the miniscule space between you. There's a bitterness in his voice, yes, but also a deep and sorrowful sympathy.

"No- she... Edelgard never-"

"Or perhaps she gave you over to that snake of a man she calls her advisor... No, she wouldn't," Seteth's fingertips brush the swell of your lower lips, and your thighs twitch inward around his arm, "A covetous warmonger like that, who only seeks to conquer and subsume. She would not gift you to another."

"Seteth-!"

You should push him away. You should scream for the guards and hope against hope that they'd dare to stop him. Instead, you accept his lips once more, and allow his fingers to part you, slowly pressing into your tight opening. Cradled against his warm frame, you feel him exhale, feel his heart thudding in his chest. His fingers gradually work you open around him with gentle, rhythmic thrusts, careful never to hurt you. Your chest is tangled in a million different knots- one of guilt, one of fear, one of desperate, longing need. The noise in your head is near unbearable, but above it all, you hear Seteth's voice against your ear,

"I want you to know that I forgive you. For everything."

Forgives you...? The words sound nice, but you can hardly parse their meaning. His fingers are coated in your slick, allowing them to fuck into you more steadily. You bite down on your lower lip to hold in a moan. He forgives you...

"Ha...!" A gasp finally escapes you. As though satisfied by that very sound, Seteth's fingers ease out from your drooling cunt, only to refocus on your clit. You barely even realize how you'd let your body slacken in his arms, letting him hold you close as he drives you to pleasure you've been without for far too long. Seteth, a man of the church, a man who lead troops against you and your allies. His touch pulses around your stiffened clit, sending shuddering waves of pleasure through your nerves. Rhea's advisor is going to make you cum. The realization grabs hold of you, filling you with white hot shame- and something far worse. A thrill of arousal. The temptation to surrender.

"Given my station, I feel it only right to take full responsibility for your spiritual well-being," his voice sounds like a lustful whisper, but the words are frigid, formal, "it would do you good to relearn several of the core values of the Church."

Then, his hand pulls away.

"We will begin with patience."

A moment of confusion rapidly devolves into desperation. You sit upright and lean towards him.

"Seteth, please-"

Please what? Continue to touch you? Make love to you? You find you don't want to face the truth of what you're pleading for.

He stands with all the dignity of a holy ceremony, then unclasps the cloak from the back of his robes. He kneels briefly to drape it around your shoulders. It's warm, and it smells like him. Like incense and old parchment.

"I will return with a change of clothes for you, and send for these to be cleaned," he says, picking up your old clothes and turning to depart, "I trust that you will be a diligent student in the coming days."

The night is agonizing. Seteth is all you can think of. Him, and the shame and guilt of how obsessively your mind circles him. His voice, his scent, his touch. You want more than anything to relieve the desperate need he awoke in you- to satisfy the nagging urge for release, and then perhaps be free from the memory of his hands. But with your own bound behind your back, there's simply no way.

How could you ever face your allies among the Empire's forces now? Now that you'd allowed- practically begged for a man of the church to pleasure you, to enter you. The phrase "sleeping with the enemy" comes to mind.

In the end, the moment you see Seteth open the cell door the following day, the heat of unresolved need floods your core. You tell yourself it's because his is the only touch you've felt in recent memory. You tell yourself that, if circumstances were different, you would resist him, push him away. Yet something in your expression must please him, as he grants you the slightest hint of a smile when he approaches.

"Have you had ample time to consider our lesson in patience?" his voice is firm yet kind, the voice he might use with a somewhat dense student. Your lips tighten to a thin line, and you step back against the stone wall. You give no reply, to which Seteth merely sighs and shakes his head.

"I cannot help you if you choose to be obstinate," he says, stepping towards you and raising a hand to your cheek as he has many times before. You realize that he hasn't brought any food with him today. The thought causes your stomach to tighten, grumbling low, yet loud enough that Seteth takes note. He gives a short, contemplative hum, then his hand comes to your chin to force you to meet his eye.

"Your body already associates our visits with food, I see." He knows what he's doing to you. He knows how he's training your body to respond to him. You force your head to turn from him, and he allows it, though his fingertips brush through your hair, "Don't be difficult, Y/N, I will have your meal brought after today's lesson has concluded."

Before you can reply, Seteth's hand begins to travel down your body. He caresses your neck, then continues downward, only pausing for a moment to cup your breast in hand. Your posture tightens, your face warms. But his free hand urges you to face him once more, and he kisses you with that same possessive intensity that hasn't left your mind since his prior visit. His thumb brushes across where your nipple has begun to harden against the fabric of your tunic. But rather than pursue this pleasurable sensation, his hand continues down your stomach and hips, then slides his fingers beneath your waistband.

The moment you feel him press between your folds, you whimper against his lips. His fingers run firm against your opening, but refuse to enter. You know you're positively soaked for him already. You know he notices the way you try to subtly shift your hips against him, rutting yourself onto his hand.

"Seteth, please..." you sob between kisses, and once again, he merely sighs.

"I had hoped that you would exhibit at least some measure of restraint," he says sternly, pulling away his hand and bringing his fingers to your lips. Some deranged part of your mind thinks that perhaps if you please him, he'll satisfy you- and so you immediately take the digits into your mouth, sucking and lapping at your own juices. Fierce emerald eyes fix onto you and watch you intently until you've finished, and he says,

"Your lessons will continue until you have fully grasped and appreciated the values of our Church," he continues, his tone even but his gaze firm and direct, "Now then, on your knees. Today, you will learn humility and service."

After only a brief glance at those unyielding green eyes, you obey.

You kneel at Seteth's feet, wrists still bound behind you, stubborn arousal and anticipation roaring in your veins. With pupils blown wide, you watch as he parts his robes and tugs down the front of his breeches, revealing the hardened length of his manhood. Once more, Seteth's reality is far more lurid than your idle imaginings had been, back when you'd entertained an innocent crush on the man who would someday be your adversary. His size is, in truth, a bit intimidating. But you straighten your posture and part your lips, worried that stalling for too long may provoke him.

Instead, he's patient. Excruciatingly so. If only he would be harsh with you, you think. If only he would attack or berate you. Then, you could hate him. Instead, a part of you that grows like a wildfire spreading too quickly for you to trample down so dearly wants his approval. His care and concern. The forgiveness he claims to offer, which you can only hope you're truly worthy of.

Your lips wrap around the head of his cock, a bit clumsy at first without your hands to balance you. Your tongue massages the glans steadily, and you turn your eyes up to him, not knowing what you hope to see in his expression. He's unreadable, but not cold. His hand comes to stroke your hair fondly, and he murmurs,

"That's right, Y/N. Take your time, and don't push yourself. This is all for your benefit."

True enough, forcing yourself to take him deeper would be uncomfortable at best, and suffocating at worst. Given his generous size, you're forced to work your way down the shaft gradually, working to widen your jaw and open your throat for him inch by inch. And all the while, Seteth instructs you, petting you and occasionally encouraging you.

You feel him grow harder within the warmth of your mouth, but he gives little indication of his pleasure. He seems utterly focused on you, his gaze unwavering as he watches you dedicate yourself to him. In a way, allowing you to service him slowly, rather than fucking into your mouth at his chosen pace, grants you the uniquely cruel opportunity to enjoy the process. You imagine a different scenario in a different life; one where Seteth is your lover and not your captor. You imagine how his strength would comfort you, rather than cage you. More than anything, you imagine this incredible cock making love to you- how it would feel inside of you, how he might sound groaning your name in pleasure.

Instead, as you urge yourself to take him as deep into your throat as you can manage, you only hear him exhale between his teeth. You quicken your pace, bobbing your head and taking him into the tight passage of your throat over and over. And at long last, you hear him from above you,

"I'd like for you to swallow it. Can you do that for me?"

You whimper around him, but don't dare to pull away.

"Very good. I'd rather not make a mess of you."

You hardly register the words. For the first time, he's thrusting back into you, his hand in your hair still, and his breath finally just a bit strained. With the slightest groan, he holds deep in your mouth, his cock twitches, swells, and begins to pour his release down your throat. Your eyes nearly water with the strain, but you force yourself to gulp down his cum as he grants it, swallowing until he's spent.

When he pulls away, you nearly slump forward, but he steadies you by the shoulder. You cough a bit, but somehow don't spill a drop of his release. Seteth fixes his breeches, then kneels down and caresses your cheek fondly.

"Seteth..." you half-moan his name, your eyes blatantly desperate, "Please, will you... I- I want..." you can't bring yourself to tell him that you need your own relief, but he understands your intent. And, if anything, he looks disappointed. He sighs, and stands once more before you.

"I see. So you had hoped for your own gratification in return. Have you truly lost sight of our lesson so quickly?" You struggle up to your feet, and he continues, "A servant of the Goddess does not act for the sake of personal reward. Service is done for its own sake, Y/N."

He turns toward the cell door, and only pauses to say,

"No matter. I'll bring you your meal, and we will try again tomorrow."

Days pass, and lessons pass. Seteth brings you food and water, he cleans you and feeds you by hand. Sometimes, he grants you a few precious moments of pleasure, his fingers working expertly between your thighs and yet never bringing full satisfaction. You wonder whether it would be more merciful if he never touched you, if you never experienced the rush of his lips on yours and his fingers stroking your most sensitive nerves. But then he draws near again and you can't even think to protest.

He continues to teach you patience and service, of course. And over time, further lessons follow. He teaches you obedience, instructing you to pleasure him with only your tongue, or to hold his cum in your mouth until he orders you to swallow it. And after this, your lessons become more intensive still. You're taught an extensive list of prayers by being made to repeat after him, knowing that success would earn you a few blissful moments of pleasure at Seteth's hands, while continued failure would bring punishment.

And you're a good student, only earning his punishment on a single occasion. One day- and only once -you dare to suggest that he may free you. That negotiations might be possible. You should have known he would react poorly, but the memory of his hand constricting around your neck is distant, and clouded by days of patient instruction, of food and bathing and touching.

Your suggestion earns you a lesson in contrition. As Seteth fucks into your throat so hard you can barely breath, he snarls from above,

"I don't wish to be cruel to you, Y/N, but you have forced my hand," his fist is tight in your hair, and his voice is low and dark, the warning of a far worse fate barely concealed in his tone. Your jaw strains around his thick cock and your eyes threaten to roll back, already dewed with tears. You nearly gag several times over, yet even when he feels you choke around his cockhead, he shows little mercy. Your throat feels sore and raw, and you wonder how you're even able to withstand him brutally pounding into your mouth for so long. Then, once he's finally sated, he pulls you off of his member by your hair, and shoots powerful ropes of cum across your chest as you watch him with dazed, puffy eyes and swollen lips. He's never marked you like this, always preferring that you take his load down your throat. Feeling his hot, thick release dripping down your skin fills you with a confusing mess of emotions- arousal, shame, humiliation, and strangely, a thrill of submission. The thrill of being claimed.

Seteth takes a moment to fix his clothes and steady his breath. Then, he kneels before you and cradles your face in his hands. For a moment, neither of you speak. His thumb brushes across your cheek, drying a single shed tear.

"I want to help you- you know that. Everything I have done has been for your sake. I take time out of my work each day to ensure you're cared for. In light of your favorable progress until this point, I have even given orders that other prisoners are to be given more generous treatment."

You raise your eyes to meet his. Bright green, and so earnest, as though desperate to reach you. Your chest feels heavy. Your mind is buzzing loudly, yet utterly silent.

"I'm... sorry," you choke out, "I'm sorry, Seteth..."

You're not certain what you're apologizing for- but he pulls you to him, cradling your head to his chest, and you feel a wave of relief. He kisses your hair and runs his hand over your back. He's warm- so warm, and his scent on his robes soothes you.

"You are forgiven. Always."

The soft sweetness of his voice seeps into your mind- into your heart.

It's intoxicating. He releases you, and smiles gently as he brushes your hair back.

"I will return in a moment to clean and feed you. Behave yourself and wait for me, I won't be long."

You never again go against Seteth's wishes. You never again mention your former allies, and with time, you think of them less and less. Such thoughts are replaced with lessons and prayers and Seteth's hands on your body. Yet you wonder why he has never fully taken you, instead choosing only to use your mouth. The surface answer appears to be that it would not serve to educate you. But is it what you want? The obvious answer comes far too readily. You want it more than anything.

Yet the day you realize this is the first day that Seteth does not visit you. You had found it strange that, during his prior visit, he had altered the shackles around your wrists so that your hands were bound in front of you rather than behind. In addition to putting less strain on your back and shoulders, this allows a guard to pass food to you through the openings in the barred window of your cell's door. You accept your meal, but call out before the guard leaves,

"Where- uh, where is Seteth?"

The guard hesitates before answering, and when he does, his words are rushed and clumsy,

"He- said he was busy today. And... that we were not to interact with you under any circumstances."

With that, he turns from the door and hastily departs. You know that Seteth must be a busy man- his consistent visits despite this are yet one more testament to his immense care and kindness towards you. But then the days continue, and for what you estimate to be a week, you don't see him. You don't feel him or hear him. The guards resolutely refuse to speak to you, only passing your meals before returning to their stations. The time spent alone is unbearable- worse by far than any punishment Seteth had ever granted. Are you being punished now? What had you done wrong?

The days without him are agony. Perhaps you had taken him for granted. He went so far out of his way for your benefit, taking the time to teach and train you, always so patient and understanding even when you made mistakes. If you could only see him again and prove that you would be good, that you would behave and obey him.

When the door of your cell opens at last, your heart leaps in your chest. Seteth enters, but his expression is grave. His eyes are narrowed, his brow low and stern as he silently approaches.

"Seteth-!" you gasp out, your face lit up with relief. A shadow of a smile shows through when he meets your eyes. He whispers your name with a strange sort of heat in his tone. That's when you notice the blood smeared down the side of his face. On a second inspection, he looks worn and haggard. His robes are frayed and torn in several places, the worst of which being a gash across his lower abdomen at his side. There's more blood still- some his, and some not, by the looks of it -and not even fully dry. Your expression falls. However before you can question him, Seteth says,

"Did any of the guards lay a finger on you in my absence?"

You're surprised that this is his concern, but you manage to reply,

"No, not at all."

He draws close and brings a hand to your cheek.

"Good. If any so much as looked on you even once, I would have them punished within the full extent of the Church's authority." You feel a chill at the thought- you know fully well that he means to imply execution.

"What- what happened?"

"Only a minor skirmish," he replies, his voice carefully measured. Then, his hands are at your waist, and he guides you back against the nearby wall, "Another attempt at breaking through the Monastery's gates. Preparation for this assault is what has kept me from you as of late. But you've no need to concern yourself with such things,"

He seizes the chain that joins your shackles and draws them upward, latching them to the wall behind you above your head. Then, he pulls you up and into his arms, embracing you and trapping you between the wall and his body.

"You- you should see a healer, you're hurt-" you stutter out.

"Such wounds couldn't possibly keep me from you," Seteth whispers, his voice rasping in his throat. When he kisses you, it's full of possessive hunger, and you feel the now-familiar ache for him roar to life at your core. You whimper against his lips. It feels different from before. Perhaps it's because of your recent separation, but he's more direct now, more passionate. He smells like sweat and iron and the carnage of the battlefield, but you can't think clearly enough to be bothered by it. If anything, it only spurs on your need for him.

Large, calloused hands run up your sides beneath your clothing, and you moan into his kiss. You're certain he means to tease you still, to bring you to the edge to leave you dangling by a thread. Instead, he tears open the front of your tunic with one hand while the other grips your thigh, down its outer curve to your ass, holding you firmly against him. And you feel his manhood, hot and incredibly hard, rutting between your lower lips behind layers of clothing.

You try to say his name, but he smothers your words in heated kisses, his tongue thrusting into your mouth to claim you. Before you can track, he's tugged down your breeches and adjusted his own clothing to free his throbbing member. Then, with your back to the cold stone and your legs wrapped around his hips, you feel the tip of his cock at your entrance and whimper aloud. You think he may make you beg or plead or pray. Not today. Today, at long, long last, Seteth murmurs your name and pushes the head of his cock into you, groaning as he feels you clench around him.

You're already panting, whining softly as he works his massive length into you. He had wasted no time, and yet you're already soaking wet for him, your juices coating his cock and welcoming him into your needy cunt. He spreads you open gradually but insistently, fitting you around him as he opens you up with thrusts that drive deeper and deeper with each pass. It's bliss- a bliss that makes you so dearly grateful for your own imprisonment. In this moment, you feel you'd gladly remain caged for life if it meant Seteth would care for you and satisfy you. Briefly, you do struggle against the restraints that hold your wrists in place, though only out of longing to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, to pull him close and offer yourself to him.

"Seteth..." you say, your voice shaky and weak. He glances up at you, and the heat in his eyes nearly takes away your breath. He's held inside of you to the hilt, the tip of his cock pressing hard into your core and the girth of it stretching you to your limit; yet he pauses, and you manage to say,

"Please- take... take me..."

He smiles and rests his forehead against yours. You feel the cool metal of the circlet he wears, and the tightening of his grip at your hips as he holds you against him.

"My angel..." he whispers into the quiet of your prison cell, "Yes, darling, I'll take you. Until you're mine and mine alone."

Seteth's hips begin to move, thrusting into you at a steady yet impassioned pace. His arms hook under your legs, urging them back towards you and spreading your thighs, allowing him to fuck you even deeper, driving into you to the hilt and filling you until you're gasping for breath. Your body arches up from the stone wall as his lips travel down your neck. Where it meets your shoulder muscle, he bites down, and you breathe out his name as he marks you, his teeth harsh around your flesh. His beard grazes your skin, his hair tickles your neck and chest, and not even the still-present scent of blood can lessen the thrill of finally receiving him.

You wear a dazed smile, mumbling his name amidst cries of pleasure, and his pace increases. He fucks into you harder, his hips slamming up against you, the tip of his manhood sending shocks of pain and pleasure up through your core. The distant sting of his nails digging against your upper thighs hardly even registers in your hazy thoughts. Your body can't withstand the onslaught of pleasure- not after days and night and weeks of building need -and with a shiver that runs up your spine and across your skin, you see white, and the tense knot at your core comes undone. The relief of cumming is like a potent drug, and the thrill of cumming around Seteth's cock is indescribable bliss.

You're a boneless, trembling mess in the wake of your long-awaited climax, and it's all you can do to watch Seteth with unfocused eyes and lips parted as he continues to chase his own satisfaction. Shocks of tingling pleasure wake your nerves despite how positively spent and dizzy you feel. But then his eyes meet yours, and the animal hunger in that gaze rushes you to the edge all over again. You bite at your bottom lip. He presses you harder against the wall, pounding into your cunt as it clenches and spasms around him, then growls against your ear,

"Say that you belong to me. Now."

You rally any sense of control you still have over your body to gasp out,

"I... I'm yours-! I'm yours, Seteth..!"

With a final shaky groan, he holds your hips painfully tight and shoves the entire massive length of his cock into you. His member swells and throbs, and then, the heat of his release bursts out inside of you. His lips find yours, drawing you into a messy, heated kiss as thick cum fills you, his full length swelling and pulsing against your aching inner walls with each wave of his orgasm.

You feel light. You feel dazed and unfocused and practically mindless. Once Seteth has finally poured out the last of his climax into you, he lets out a heavy exhale, holding you to his body while he catches his breath. With his cock still nestled deep inside of your over-full and over-used hole, he nuzzles his face against your hair, and with a tenderness that makes your heart ache, he says,

"I will never let her take you from me again. I swear it."

'Her' is someone who mattered once- you're certain of it. But in Seteth's arms, full of his warmth and cradled to his sturdy frame, you find you don't have it in you to care. Perhaps a lifetime ago, you would have questioned him, or even resisted him- but you know better now. He provides for you, protects you, gives you pleasure beyond what you've ever felt before. There's no doubt remaining in your mind that this is right. That you belong to the Church. You belong to Seteth.

#yandere #tw yandere #seteth #seteth fire emblem #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #feh #fe3h #seteth x reader #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem smut #fire emblem imagines

230 notes · View notes