#going back to the politics stuff it was all so low stakes

[rowan-post]

RPC self-care

We all get worn down by life and often we turn to RP for rejuvenation. But more than once I've seen people on here that find themselves burnt out on the RP community itself. With nearly 20 years of role playing under my belt, I thought I'd share some of my favourite self-care tricks.

Block people. You don't have to explain yourself and 'weird vibes' is a legitimate reason. You deserve to feel safe and unbothered in your hobby space, and RP is based on consent. Just like with any recreational activity, you can withdraw your consent at any time and no is a complete sentence.

Turn off anon. This prevents anonymous harassment and gives you great insight into who to block or report if you get non-anonymous harassment.

Drop threads. I know RP etiquette suggests you need to tell your RP partner when and why, and sure, if they ask politely you can give it a go - just know that a pre-written variant of 'not feeling it' is good enough. In my humble opinion, I think dropping boring or vexing threads is everyone's prerogative and doesn't require explanation. Again, no is a complete sentence.

Talk it out. If you like the thread but things took a turn you didn't like, it's time to bring the RP into the workshop. Something like 'Hey I really like our RP so far but I'm losing my spark, can we talk about course correcting where the plot is going?'

Make clear rules and revise them frequently. I'd also advise against spending said rules excusing or explaining why you don't like or want a certain thing - I cannot stress enough how your preferences are not up for debate.

Get comfy chasing. A lot of RP is about inviting others to play over and over and over. Rejection is a part of it. See if you can't find some element of self-care in it - taking rejection well is a great skill to practice in such a low stake environment.

Notice and celebrate the good stuff, instead of digging holes about the bad. Tell your co-players how great they are. Marvel at all the hard work you put into your muses and graphics. Admire your own blog.

Stop. Take a break. Check in with yourself. Do you actually need to face something in IRL? Do you need to rest? A snickers? A walk? Don't bother with posts á la 'offline for the day' - leave your options open to reduce guilt or shame if you want to poke your head back in.

Happy writing. 🌿

#rpc #rp resources #rp community #rp #roleplay #self-care #mental health #faerypost // love letter

[420technoblazeit]

in my mind dean was always supposed to get older and become the new bobby. like ok you're a hunter, maybe a little new to the scene and still figuring things out. and you're tracking down a werewolf, easy case. except some things don't line up quite right and now you're thinking it might not actually be a werewolf. so you ask around a hunter's bar and they all say the same thing. go to this one bunker in the middle of nowhere in kansas

and you're like sure what the hell. you're stumped anyway, might as well check it out. maybe it's a weapons storehouse or something. but then you get there and there's a doorbell and a bee-shaped welcome mat out front and you're starting to think you've got the wrong place. the door swings open and there's this middle aged guy with a robe and batman pyjama bottoms. and he laughs at the look on your face and tells you to come in, he doesn't bite. not since he got that vampire cure, anyway. you're not sure what to make of that last part but he winks at you when he says it so you figure he's joking. maybe.

he gives great advice about hunting everything under the sun and if you stick around long enough he'll go on and on about how he saved the world at least five times. ok sure. you don't want to be rude so you just sit there and sip your coffee politely while he talks about some guy called chuck and how much of a bitch he is. and another guy who's aged a little more gracefully comes padding down the hallway in a metallica t-shirt and rolls his eyes. has he told you about tvland yet? ('i was just getting to that part!')

if you go to the basement you'll find shotguns filled with salt, wooden stakes, holy water, and demon-killing bullets for sale. and if you're lucky the witch who sells hex bags might be around. low-grade curses only, of course. you better leave the powerful stuff to the professionals. and she'll get in trouble if she gives you anything stronger, not that she can't be persuaded. a girl's gotta make a living after all and she's always encouraged eager new witches. it's worked out pretty well for her so far. and then a guy you swear is twice your height will raise an eyebrow at her and insist she only sell the weaker hex bags, please. you don't need any more witches in your coven, rowena. you've got plenty

pagan god giving you trouble? there's a man who swings by every once in a while who knows how to deal with those. give him some candy or a fun magic relic and he might help you out. it depends. he's a little picky about dishing out advice and he likes to play favorites. and if you've got a demon problem they can give you the number of a guy who swears up and down that he used to be the king of hell. but you've seen him walking around with a purse-sized terrier tucked under his arm and a dozen more following him so you're not really sure if you believe him

idk i like to think that dean got to grow old and retire. that doesn't mean he stops helping people, it just means he hangs up his coat and becomes an old man who rambles on and on about 'back in my day' and makes a dent in his leather armchair. there's a foosball table where the dungeon used to be and sam complains about beer bottles being everywhere and it becomes a safe haven for anyone still fighting the good fight. it's just that for dean and the rest of team free will the fight is over. they're done hunting now

#THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME BUT. i was thinkign about the spn finale and what i'd picture as a happy ending for tfw (mostly dean sorry. samgirls) #adn like. i dont think dean would ever give up helping people but i also think at some poitn in time he'd recognize that the way he views #hunting really does hurt him. n maybe eventually he coudl be convinced to take a step back yk? and be a little more hands off like bobby wa #and YES im givign rowena gabe adn crowley happy endings too. up to you to decide if htey live in the bunker now. (i think crowley does at #least once he abdicates the throne. he went full will graham and has like a hundred dogs n dean complains about how much mud they track in) #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #rowena macleod #sam winchester #gabriel spn #crowley macleod #crowley spn #the pig squeals

[greenerteacups]

Hi! Just wanted to say the latest chapter is lovely & amazing & sweet & had me smiling the whole time! I absolutely love your characterisation of everyone, especially Draco, so it was so so lovely to return to this world & to his thoughts!! with his best friend and crush at malfoy manor no less! All the yearning is already off to a great start hehe I am so excited for the rest of book 5!

Wanted to ask you how has it been for you to write this new book and volume? Has your writing process changed since when you’d first begun taking on a long form project like this?

& also are there any moments or surprises in this book that you’re especially excited about?

sending so much love & gratitude for you and your incredible works 💓

Thank you so much! This is really encouraging, I so appreciate it.

Inasmuch as I can use this metaphor without having kids myself, I sort of see each of the books as a different child. The first one flew out in basically a few weeks of very intensive writing, and it was a total dream — plot, pacing, symbolism, major beats, all fell into place basically without effort. The character stuff was the hardest, as I've written about before, but even then, the glorious part of writing beginnings is it's the most energy you'll ever have for a project, so the lows were pretty soft lows. Book 2, in contrast, I had to drag kicking and screaming by its ankle from under the bottommost mattress of my brain. It's one of my least favorite books (tone problem; COS has killer plot/setting/ingredients for a YA novel, but it's stuck in the doldrums of Harry Potter's well-documented Early-Installment Weirdness, before Cedric Diggory slams the gas and upshifts the whole series into its correct age bracket). More specifically, once I'd gone through and picked out everything in the book that happened because of Lucius, I didn't have a plot — hey alexa how do you rewrite Chamber of Secrets when We Got No Fucking Chamber Of Secrets — and oh by the way, even if you want to do a moody tone/political setup book, remember that your protagonists are still twelve, so if you go too dark or too intense, you'll risk torpedoing your readers' suspension of disbelief. Good luck, Charlie.

Book 3 felt the most like its own novel, if that makes sense? It's the last truly feel-good book of the series; it's a great stand-alone mystery novel with relatively low stakes. Plus you get a bunch of the big series icons: patronuses, dementors, werewolves, Hogsmeade, the Marauders' Map, and time turners arithmancy. It just felt like a good old-fashioned motherfucking romp of a mystery/adventure story, before any of the complex character work and major stakes of the late books come in.

Book 4 was the most fun I've had writing anything maybe ever. I don't even know what it was. Maybe the tournament arc, honestly? Love me a tournament arc. But in any case, I opened every new chapter feeling a tingle of excitement for what I was gonna get to do. Oh, and the romance started, finally, Jesus God (if it feels like a slow burn reading, just imagine what it felt like writing it, when everything takes ten times as long, and you have to figure out how to word the fucker.)

Book 5, in contrast, has felt much less like that tingle of "here we go!" and more like "oh, man, this is gonna be cool." Because this is the arc of the story that composed the original idea for Lionheart, literally years ago, and to be honest, I didn't think I'd get this far! If you'd asked me "do you know that it's going to take you 500,000 words of backstory before you can start writing that concept you're thinking about, and you're going to do it anyway?" I would have said: "absolutely not, strange mind-reader!" But like... I'm here! Finally! And it's... real now? Like, this isn't just a bunch of clips of scenes in my head anymore! That's rad!

That being said, it's definitely been slower than Book 4, because I kept switching back to my outline document to make sure that certain things were set up properly, and that I hadn't lost any of the plot threads or forgotten a minor beat that was vitally important for the story three chapters later. And I had a minor crisis about three months ago when I ripped out about 8 chapters in the first third of the book — basically everything from September to December — because I'd done a readthrough to check pacing (big mistake! never edit while drafting, that's satan talking) and realized I had a missing storyline. Like, there was a whole layer of the story that was just. Missing. Not there. And the existing text really couldn't fit another thread, so instead of taking weeks to pore through and try to sift out what I could save, I needed to factory reset and start over. And I didn't want to! I vividly remember sitting there with my head in my hands, trying not to weep, because I'd decimated 90,000 words of work in a single edit. But it had to be done. Because the story wasn't going to work. And now (hopefully) it will.

And of course, there's still that sense of excitement and exhilaration from before. Always. But whereas Book 4 felt like a delicious chocolate pudding, Book 5 is a medium-rare steak.

(Book 6, so far, is four shots of espresso and a whiskey chaser. FWIW.)

#greenteacup asks #lionheart #lionheart spoilers #dramione

[godeaterazathoth]

Issues I have with ikevamp

That I’m venting here because they won’t leave my skull

*Content warning, we’re talking about men in the past, they did some bad stuff*

Part 1, historical inaccuracies

I’m I history nut so this really gets to me, since I know the deep details of these peoples lives.

The timeline, ok so the game takes place in 18th France, correct me if I’m wrong but I think it is in the second empire (1852-1870) considered there is a noble class, yet you can clearly see the Eiffel Tower which was completed in 1889, there is no mention of the 1889 exposition, so it must be after the tower had become permanent, by then the 3rd republic was around, if we are in the republic the Count wouldn’t be called that by the npcs at all the parties he goes to, no matter which we’re in, NOBODY mentions Napoleon III at, NOT EVAN HIS UNCLE (WHOSE SOMEHOW BECAME CASS CONSCIOUS!)

How does the time travel work, example, Dazai died in 1948, his plan was seemingly to wait until he’s born in 1909 then kill himself as a baby, but then he decides to use the magic door, what are the consequences of 2 Dazais existing at once or him erasing himself from history, he’s a pretty important literary figure, does someone else replace him or does the space time continuum collapse?? Is the future Vlad sees set in stone or can it be changed, just copy someone else’s time travel bit!!!

So straight up these guys aren’t who they say they are, we’ll go through 1 by 1

Napoleon- doesn’t mention he left the love of his life to marry a girl 20 years his junior (like think how interesting it would be if he’s conflicted about love cuz he had to give it up for political reasons) -that scene where MC talks about all the ‘good’ that he did in Europe, like committing war crimes against the Spanish and Portuguese and Eastern Europeans, being a coloniser, killing the slaves he freed when they asked for more rights, killing thousands of men in a meaningless war (ligit H*tler vibes)

Arthur- goofy irl, literally believed in fairies, had 5 children and married twice but he never mentions any of this, he cheated on his first wife while she was dying of TB, he was a liberal unionist (tldr didn’t like Irish people) he was anti-immigration, might have committed fraud. We’ll get to the other issues I have with him.

Leonardo- fruity as hell, vegetarian

Mozart- they got his character completely wrong, the guy was a complete man child, vain, broke, by the end of his life his career fell off (Beethoven better composer), in love with his cousin 🤢, had a s*at fetish 🤢🤢🤢. The hole Salieri thing didn’t happen.

Vincent- they made him too mentally stable, I’m all for him being meek, but the guy had serious issues that they ignore, he ate paint thinner, was rejected by his both crushes, WHY DOES HE HAVE BOTH EARS, DID IT GROW BACK, THEY SHOULD HAVE LEFT HIM WITH ONLY ONE, also he should be ginger smh. Oh yeah and they never mentioned the s*ecide attempt.

Theo- doesn’t mention his wife, or son, WHO HE NAMED AFTER VINCENT, his wife is the person responsible for Vincent’s work not being completely forgotten, was way nicer irl.

Issac- tbh hotter irl, low key ace, maybe a fruit, kinda mean, the only thing they got right was the major virgin vibes.

Jean- WHY MAN!??!! Even if the didn’t want a lesbian route, they could have gone with any other guy from the 100 years war, Edward black prince, idk WHY GENDER BEND ONE OF THE MOST PROMINENT WOMEN IN HISTORY, I’m fine with the delusional trans dude lie, but they say that he was a guy all along, THEN WHAT WAS THE POINT OF HIM BEING BURNT AT THE STAKE IF HE WASN’T CROSS DRESSING???!!! was he double cross dressing??? This is the worst of them all, give me the girl boss we deserve (revers fate)

Dazai- not depressed enough imo, he was a leftist, again missing wife, their were two su*ecide attempts, guy lived through fire bombing, had a few children that he is fine to erase from existence.

Shakespeare- probably a fruit, again never mentioned his wife and kids, btw the way he talks is annoying, some people don’t think he’s real.

Faust- NOT A REAL PERSON.

Sanson- too young, this guys is 67, really liked the guillotine, just saw execution as his job didn’t really care, had a wife and kids.

Vlad- Ok is he supposed to be Vlad THE impaler? Cuz he’s not evil enough, or is he a Dracula reference, cuz he can’t dance that dance either, why did they call him Vlad if he isn’t a blood thirsty war criminal.

Count- not enough history to work with.

Part 2, problematic moments

So I ha have seen some posts on the low key misogynistic way the MC is written and treated and there are a lot of issues wit white washing history so another trigger warning ⚠️

Misogyny- the MC of this game is not the best, I know she’s a self insert but she has no backbone at all. She lacks agency I’m most of the routes, like the MC getting kidnapped is a troupe in all these games, but Emma can escape on her own, Kate has ⚽️, even Alice had more depth to her, seems the only thing MC can do is cry and wait to be saved, I swear she gets kidnapped once in every route, I think they could have given her more character to work with. Another thing, but Jean being a man is bad, really bad, she’s a feminist icon but they made her a man, it’s sought of saying that women aren’t capable of this so she had to have actually been a man.

Handling of SA, important one here, I’m ok with the flirty guy, but I really hate Arthur, he doesn’t just flirt with her in chapter 1 he assaults her and acts like he did her a service, and she just forgives him!?! I’m fine with a guy that sleeps around, I like Jin and Nokto fine, but the way Arthur talks about women, always calling them Birds (if they were going for English slang it doesn’t work cuz he doesn’t have a cockney accent) or worse Skirts, it’s dehumanising, and shows that to him women are vehicles for sexual pleasure and aren’t on an equal level of understanding. There are smaller parts to, Leo kisses her without consent, the Count hides the truth from her, idk but Theo calling her a ‘hound’ sounds like he’s calling her something else…

Minor points on classism, I’m not expecting the communist manifesto, but all these games aren’t very good at dealing with class deviation. In Vlad’s route, the orphan boy thinks he can impress the rich girl, this is the 19th century, capitalism is on the rise, but there’s no comment about how it’s impossible. The little school Napoleons runs is strange, considering he was in a position where benefited from poor people existing and staying poor, ( side note, he’s teaching them swordsmanship when ww1 is right around the corner, just saying they won’t need it in the military) called MC out as a social climber, these games sought of depict the past through rosé tinted glasses, there’s only passing reference to how fucked people were in the past, Also all the historical inaccuracies above tie to this.

Anyway love to hear some other opinions, (I started playing this game before my transition and have always thought it it was wired, it’s my personal least favourite just cuz I couldn’t really get into any of the guys, my OC ended up as a Carmilla reference so….)

I have seen a post talking about some of the issues before so that’s what got me to write this out, if you disagree or want to add anything I’m all ears 👂

Thanks for reading 💗💖💖💕💓💝💗🥰🥰🥰❤️✨✨✨✨❤️⭐️⭐️⭐️

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikepri #ikevil #ikerev #ikemen series

[etoilesombre]

Never have I ever game-- you're known for playing with the source material in ways that don't change canon's outcome, but would you ever do a non-canon Black Sails take? An AU that is entirely different setting from pirates, mod au, fairytale au, space au, cowboy au, etc?

Oh that is a great question. I don't generally do AU, and especially not modern AU, because for me personally it is hard to put them into a high enough stakes environment to explore the elements of the show I'm interested in. HOWEVER. There is one that I started to consider a while ago and have pretty thoroughly fleshed out, and have a serious plan to start once other projects are finished, and that is: Russian Revolution AU! Ok. Stick with me here. [Or don't. I'm going to put this under a cut, it is a lot, and may not make very much sense if you don't already know something about the historical period.]

So, I love the idea of using the Russian revolution as a way to explore some of the same dynamics as the show because it is a period in which there was a lot of righteous idealism, and then it all went very wrong, which naturally brings up questions of ideological commitment vs survival, what are you willing to sacrifice, how do your ideals hold up in the real world, etc. It is also a time when how queerness was treated was very in flux, fitting well with 'we care if its politically convenient to care.'

Basically, we start in the early 1920s right after Lenin dies. Flint is a general, old guard party member, was a commander in the civil war. He is known for doing Really Heinous Flinty Shit during that period. He is sort of revered but also feared, and very ideologically motivated, and so of course he is about to get his ass purged when Stalin starts to consolidate and bring everybody into line.

Silver (10ish years younger) grew up during the upheaval of the 1905, WWI, 1917. He's his survivalist trauma bundle self, and ends up working as a low level NKVD (early Soviet intelligence) guy. He gets sent to keep tabs on/gather evidence against Flint - there is immediately a Frenemies attraction spark there. For Plot Reasons they have to do something together and become Reluctant Allies. I have some of the actual plot worked out but I'm not going to get much into it here, but there is absolutely a parallel conflict in values to the show, and choice that has to be made at the end.

IN THE MEAN TIME interspersed through all of this, in flashbacks: back sometime in the years right after the 1905 revolution, Flint is a promising young military guy who came up from nothing, and has a Hennessey parallel benefactor who sends him to school to be educated. He falls in with Thomas, who is the son of a minor prince, very queer and getting away with it, and is a radical in the Christian anarchist Tolstoy model. Flint gets radicalized through him and his friends, they spend happy years abroad in exile with Thomas writing and Flint being a tactician and doing direct action stuff. They come back in 1917, the civil war starts, Thomas is basically murdered by his family because he sided against them, and he is still set to inherit. SO, that is why Flint goes all Darkness and gets especially nasty during the civil war.

There is a Miranda proxy as well. I believe she disappears and her disappearance is what sets off Plot Events.

It's also set in St. Petersburg, if anybody is wondering. Moscow, with the level I have Flint at, would involve too much interaction with Actual Historical Figures, and while I know a fair amount about this era and am totally committed to research, but still, that gets to be Much.

So, there you have it, Russia AU! My delusional long-term goal is for this to be different enough from canon that it could be published. Thanks for the ask, it's helping me get excited about that project again!

#a lot of the point of Longfic is actually teaching myself to write well enough to do this #ok this is the last one of these i'll throw in the tag i promise #but i can't resist i love this project so much and will take any opportunity to talk about it #anon #black sails #my writing #fanfic #russia au #ask game #spinning shit out on tumblr is so much easier than writing

[gumnut-logic]

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

::rolls up sleeves and brainstorms all over the keyboard::

If you want to do it, do it. Don't hide. Everyone had to start somewhere (wanna see my first ever fic? I was 18 and the internet did not exist, also, it was really badly written; you can find my second ever written fic here - its TOS Trek). We've all been there and we are all learning. Don't be scared, Thunderfam at least is here to support. For you fanartists out there, check out How I learnt Portraiture and then check out this post to prove that I can paint, honestly, really I can :D

If you do encounter negativity - block/ban. In fandom, if you can't say something nice, shut up and go away. Don't like, don't read, and mind your own business. I'm all for self curating your online experience. The only time constructive criticism is polite is when you know the person and they've asked. Like I have several members of Thunderfam I come screaming to while writing with the question, does this suck? These are my sanity checkers - Gavii, unfortunately you have taken on this mantle and suffer on a fairly regular basis. Nutty by name and nature.

Works in Progress - anyone who has known me here at all knows I leave a wake of WiPs behind me. Some I get back to, some, not so much (I promise to pull Alex out from under that building, I do!). WiPs are part of the way an artist works (I have so many in so many media, omigod). Because fanfic is published close to the leading edge of creation, its gonna happen. Fanfic is written for fun, after all. The key is to not let them beat you up in the head. Yes, there is unfinished stuff, but it doesn't mean you can't write something else in the meantime. Don't let it stop your muse. I am notorious for unfinished stuff and the real world hates it. But this isn't the real world, THIS IS FOR FUN. I know the marketing theories and the regularity of posting and popularity and what is at stake if either not enough is published regularly or if too much unfinished stuff disappoints the reader. But again, if you let the WiPs hang around your neck too much and badger you, they will drown you. It will become a job, a burden, something you hate. So don't pressure yourself. Work with your muse and see what you can wrangle out of it...at your own pace. You might be surprised what works.

The Terry Pratchett method - I don't know if it is true or not, but there is a post flying around Tumblr somewhere that claims Terry Pratchett, famous author, only aimed to write 400 words a day. This is something I have found extremely useful. If you want to write something, don't set the bar too high so you fail. Set it at a reachable level, even 200 words or 100 words. Honestly the hardest part is actually sitting down and starting. Before you know it you will have passed your low goal and blown it out of the water 3000 words later (my highest number of words in one day was 7000 - I tend to edit as I go, so it slows me down). Rarely do we have an entire day we can write, cos life keeps getting in the way. So do it in little bits. I'm doing this method with my crochet at the moment. Lots of little bits make big bits. This is how I've written many of my longer fics. Heh, I used to have fifteen minutes in the car before work, so I'd pull up on the side of the road and write as much as I could in that time. Sometimes having a limited time helps with that as well.

But the biggest thing you can do to improve your writing is to get to know yourself very well. I'm on the autism spectrum and likely have some forms of ADHD or Executive Dysfunction (I literally cried the day I found out it had a name as to why I couldn't finish things). It's taken me years to work out how to get work out of myself. How to avoid fighting myself (a fight I never win). To learn what works best for me and how I can herd the cats in my brain into them doing what I need them to do. Find out what makes you tick. Find out what sparks your muse, what way best enables you to write. Try different times of the day, different places, bribe yourself, time limit yourself, lock the family out of the room, go to the beach, write on paper, go mobile, write on your phone, scribble notes, anything that can get your brain doing what you want it to do. Sometimes reading fic can do it, showers and manual work are great for idea sparking - let the brain idle and it comes up with all sorts of interesting things. Very late night writing can be a doozy of a trip :D Find what works then do it - until it changes and you have to find it again because yes, my brain does that too, drat it.

And that is probably enough babbling from me :D I need to go find Virgil and a pick up with his name on it...or Gordon's...it's still gelling in my brain :D

I hope this helps someone, even just a tiny bit. Writing is hard work, don't let it drown you. Also, we all have up and down days, just because something sucks today, doesn't mean it will feel the same tomorrow. Never give up, never surrender, and if you do give up on one thing....ooh, look there's another one to play with.

Thank you for asking ::squishy hugs you lots::

Nutty

(who despite this will still have days where the writing will not work...in which case, I'm gonna do something else for a bit until brain decides it wants to play....stupid brain, do it on demand, you pile of goop)

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam #nutty is nuts

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 19: Beneath the Dagger

Do you still remember the deal? Probably not, huh? It goes like this: this reread has spoilers for the whole dang series. Spoilers for book 1 (kind of expected), book 2 (not uncommon), book 8 (I already ran out of parentheticals), book 10 (just kidding nothing happens in this one), and even book 15 (the one that only super special fans get to read). If you don't want that, don't click Keep reading.

The icon for this chapter is the Horn of Valere as it is the object of Rand's quest and his prize. It's also what our favorite lady in white gets fixated on. They're all very straightforward.

Every day they had been there on the mountainside, watching the place where Hurin said the trail had been, in that other world—where Selene said the Darkfriends would surely appear in this world—he told himself it was time to leave. And Selene talked of the Horn of Valere, and touched his arm, and looked into his eyes, and before he knew it he had agreed to yet another day before they went on.

I suspect that Selene is using Compulsion here and that it's working as much because this is what fate needs to happen as it is what Rand wants to do anyway. He thinks this is all nonsense and a complete long shot but in his gut he knows it's the only way to keep Mat alive, so all Selene is really accomplishing is pushing his surface thoughts out of the way of his true nature. It's borderline therapeutic!

I was happy then, I think, even running for my life. Playing the flute for my supper.

That is not remotely how it was, Rand. You were stressed and exhausted and for every place you got to play for your supper there was another where you got scammed or threatened or worse. It's quite interesting how we romanticize our memories though. One of Rand's bigger problems is that eventually he gets to a point where there's nothing to work with for this delusion, so all the "despair debt" as it were catches up with him in a lump sum.

In the moonlight he could see the shape of Selene, bending over his saddlebags, her hands on the buckles. Her white dress gathered the faint light.

There's something intensely metaphorical about the fact that the woman who has betrayed both sides of the metaphysical conflict at play is herself betrayed by the things that she does claim loyalty to.

“It came to me,” she said, “that I’ve been wearing this dress too long. I could brush it, at least, if I had something else to wear while I did. One of your shirts, perhaps.”

Points to Lanfear though for always having a back-up plan to work her angles.

Her soft laugh sent a shiver down his back, as if she had run a finger along his spine.

Rand doesn't mention goosebumps specifically in this sequence but I bet she really is running weaves of Air around him. Makes her creepier.

“Think of the glory that will come to the one who finds the Horn of Valere. How proud I’ll be to stand beside him who holds the Horn. You have no idea the heights we will scale together, you and I. With the Horn of Valere in your hand, you can be a king. You can be another Artur Hawkwing. You. . . .”

Honestly if Hurin hadn't interrupted her here Rand probably would have rebuffed her pretty hard anyway. Glory is the least of this boy's interests and Lanfear literally can't bring it up without going into this long-winded rant which she almost certainly plans to cap off with "topple the Creator and the Dark One". It's not even all that likely that someone with the Horn could pull off Hawkwing anyway - the world is too divided and the Heroes won't be happy being used for petty political warfare.

No reason to be angry with her.

Here's some other Compulsion Selene pulls off successfully, though the stakes are super low. There's plenty of reason to be mad Rand, even with just the info you have! It's weird she's digging around in your stuff in the middle of the night instead of talking to you about it. It's weird that she's sexually harassing you instead of respecting your boundaries. It's weird that she's clearly lying to you about Portal Stones!

“You don’t know you cannot take it. How many followers does this man have? You don’t know that, either.”

I will give Lanfear credit for actually providing useful tactical advice. Even if her "Get the Horn now!" routine is based entirely in her delusional self-importance, she's not wrong to point out that they should be learning about the enemy camp while they have the chance and the element of surprise. Rand's really more of the big picture strategist in warfare than this kind of skirmish.

“I am capable of guarding myself, until you return to protect me. Take the alantin.”

Nothing suspicious about any of THIS at all. Literally any other Ogier in the world would have called out someone calling them an Old Tongue name only, I think. Loial just doesn't do it because he's so naive.

“Remember the glory,” she said softly. “Remember.”

I think it's pronounced "Memento mori", Lanfear. Someone really should have been whispering that to you.

He wished he could stop thinking, and before he realized it, the void had formed within him, making thoughts distant things, as if part of someone else. Saidin shone at him, beckoned to him.

Being caught between Lanfear and the tainted saidin makes rocks and hard places seem like vacation destinations. But being able to use the void at all means that Tam's training saved Rand from quite a lot of Lanfear's influence I think.

Loial’s huge hand settled over Rand’s mouth, and a good part of his face besides.

This is far funnier to me than it has any intention of being. Breaks up the tension of the scene, which is quite effective but difficult to quote because it builds up over time.

Tam had told him Trollocs were lazy, apt to give up any task but killing unless fear kept them to it.

Really just another demonstration of how the Shadow without the Light is entirely self-defeating.

The Horn of Valere and the dagger Mat needed, both almost within reach of his hand. Selene’s face drifted with the chest. They could follow Fain’s party in the morning, and wait until Ingtar joined them. If Ingtar did come, if he still followed the trail without his sniffer. No, there would never be a better chance. All within reach of his hand. Selene was waiting on the mountain.

Again, points to Selene (from the Light's perspective) because Rand would have utterly wasted this opportunity without her guidance. It really makes me wonder how she got to rise through the ranks to Forsaken at all considering how little she does for the Shadow's agenda. Literally less than the Trollocs and I just got done roasting them.

His hand touched something else, on the lid. The dagger, bare-bladed. In the dark, his eyes widened. Remembering what it had done to Mat, he jerked back, the void shifting with his agitation.

Lucky he didn't cut himself on it. Or perhaps unlucky; if he had cut his hand on it maybe Ishamael would have given him a matching wound there as well instead of any side wounds and it would have been much less miserable in the long run what with Semirhage's post-cleansing amputation of the poor boy.

Even in the night it was plain Loial’s eyes were as wide as they could go; they looked as big as saucers in the light of the moon.

It's these subtle touches that do a good job of emphasizing how uncommonly brave Rand is. Loial is absolutely a trooper for making it this far but even he's got limits.

“I know it is you, al’Thor! You’re hiding from me, but I know you are out there! Find him! Find him! Al’Thoooor!”

It's funny how in this book, which is mostly moving well away from the LotR inspiration that all 80s fantasy novels needed to have, Fain is acting more Gollum-like than ever before.

Rand moved without thought. He was one with the blade. Cat Dances on the Wall. The Trolloc screamed as it fell, screamed again as it died.

Frankly, CDotW sounds less like a standard sword form and more like what mentors joking call it when the new guys start panicking and waving their sword everywhere in a panic, but I guess it works.

The Courtier Taps His Fan. No scream, this time.

In contrast, this particular form sounds much more dignified and controlled. Jordan using these names to describe the action without describing it was a really great touch.

Lizard in the Thornbush. He rose smoothly from one knee as the second toppled, horns almost brushing his shoulder.

I like sword forms okay?

Fain was there, and Darkfriends, and more Trollocs. Too many to fight. Too many to face and live.

As awesome as the forms are, I do have to point out how unbelievable it sounds that Rand just single handedly killed eight Trollocs and is worried about fighting more. Like obviously he will eventually get exhausted but it really feels like he burned through a good chunk of the enemy forces. I'm not really sure how many there are at this point anyway and I'm not sure if that's the text being vague for tension or if I just forgot from earlier chapters because of the break.

“Sometimes I do not understand half of what you say,” Loial said. “If you must go mad, could it at least wait until we are back with the Lady Selene and Hurin?”

Again: Loial is painfully naive. Any other Ogier would have been well aware of exactly how alarming Rand's confession of going mad would be. I'm just gonna say it outright: the Elders were lowkey right not to approve of Loial wandering around in the world on his own. Look at the company he keeps.

As she stretched on tiptoe to put a hand inside, Rand reached over her shoulder and lifted out the Horn of Valere. He had seen it once before, but never touched it. Though beautifully made, it did not look a thing of great age, or power.

Normally I don't approve of tall people using their height to thwart shorties but for Lanfear I must of course make an exception.

And also, I'm sure again: how fucking old IS the Horn anyway? It can't possibly just be going through the whole of the Wheel over and over. Who made it? Why? When? What parts of interacting with the Heroes that the cast just assumes is the natural order of the worldl are in fact only possible because the Horn exists?

“You misunderstand me, Rand,” Selene said. “You cannot go back, now. You are committed. Those Friends of the Dark will not simply go away because you’ve taken the Horn from them. Far from it. Unless you know some way to kill them all, they will be hunting you now as you hunted them before.”

Ugh and now she's made another good point, even though again it's only in her self-interest. Lanfear you are supposed to be crazy. Stop challenging that by actually being helpful.

“Be careful,” Selene said. “Do not cut yourself.”

Once again, one has to wonder how the Forsaken are so familiar with something that was never contemporaneous with any of them except ol' Ballsac.

I am also now struck by the wondering if Lanfear's behavior makes her some third flavor of evil that might also be destructive against the Taint if it only existed in larger qualities than her. Probably not, but... she's closer to pulling it off than anyone else.

“The chest will surely shield us,” Selene said in a tight voice. “And now I mean to finish what is left of my night’s sleep.”

Since the chest is a stasis box, Lanfear is of course quite pissed that Rand has accidentally found a valid solution to their problem.

He gestured to the first Trolloc that had brought him word al’Thor was not to be found. It still snapped at ground muddied with its own blood, hooves scraping trenches as they jerked.

Poor Trolloc. Nobody deserves Fain.

“I am a dog no longer. A dog no longer!” He heard the others shifting uneasily around the fire, but he ignored them.

A fun contrast. Rand protests he will not be made a puppet and aptly demonstrates this by making his own choices whenever possible and wise. Fain protests that he's not a dog even as he plans to follow Rand's metaphorical scent, then he goes barking mad. The Shadow: Not even once.

That wraps up another chapter. Lanfear doesn't deserve any points so I'm taking them all away from her before the chapter break. She's back to 0, tied with virtually every other character! Next time: Fewer points awarded to Lanfear, hopefully. Also: saidin.

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #rand al'thor #loial #hurin #lanfear

[not-poignant]

im finally sick of my brain being shitty enough to make an appointment with a psychiatrist, but in the meantime i thought i might ask you this: in your wonderful answer to my ask re writer's block you mentioned burnout, which im pretty sure is whats happening to me. i dont want to ask you to give me a long answer if you dont have the energy for it, but i would like to know your thoughts on the matter. its been head empty hours over here 24/7 for months, lol, i miss creating

Helloooo,

I actually have written about burnout quite a bit because I've gone through burnout er, quite a bit... In fact I'm going through it again right now.

I have written a fairly long post about it in the past, so that's there if you want to read it.

I've had different kinds of burnout. I've had 'I couldn't write for years' burnout (literally, after university I just couldn't write anything for years and just assumed it was dead and gone because I didn't want to do it either), I've had burnout that's lasted months (even while like...writing as I am now), and so on.

A lot of dealing with burnout is just...resting more. Taking the pressure off yourself more. Grieving that you can't create right now without guilt-tripping yourself for it, a sort of 'I mourn that I can't do it, but there's nothing wrong with me and I am not failing because I can't do it. I need rest and care.' You can try little writer's block tricks here and there when you want to prod again. You can try other kinds of creativity. I can't write like I used to write, so I tried fanfiction. I can't write like I used to write fanfiction, which is why I've never written another Game Theory, because I just...don't want to write another story like that right now (I mean specifically all the sex every chapter, not the politics lmao). I've been feeling an urge to write poetry lately.

For you, through burnout, low-stakes creativity may help. Stuff that can be automatic (cross-stitch kits, where you're just doing someone else's pattern and don't need to really think about it beyond the stitching), colouring books. Or stuff that's low-stakes for you. For me that's often poetry. For you it might be something else.

I also think of getting through burnout where I can't create anything as needing to 'refill the well.' I catch up on shows I've been missing (writing as much as I do actually gives me no time for reading / watching media), I read books, I watch movies, I listen to new music and comfort music, etc. If my well is empty, rest will partially fill it, but so will inspiration. Watching Studio Ghibli for example almost always makes me think 'I want to write the way this makes me feel' - even if I don't write it, that little urge is like, a pulse or spark of alive-ness that gives the well a drop more inspiration for when I'm ready to write again.

It's very different for everyone though. It's important to address the basics - sleep, medications, quality of life, hydration, being well-fed, health (as much as health is possible) etc. If you're anxious and have insomnia and skip meals and forget to drink water etc. then it's back to square one with just...doing your best there. If that's mostly covered, then burnout is often just about meaningfully resting your mind.

I'd also add that there's different kinds of rest. Physical rest (sleeping / stretching), sensory rest (unplugging from screens and social media and overstimulation), emotional rest (time and space to express your feelings), spiritual rest (connecting with something greater than yourself - going into nature, community, giving, meditation etc.), mental rest (breaks, journalling), creative rest (like the cross-stitch and stuff I mentioned above) and social rest (spending relaxing time with people who love you as you are now).

So it's also worth looking at maybe... you're only focusing on one or two kinds of rest right now. Sometimes burnout requires that you address more of them. <333

There's no easy way through, because rest is the easiest way through, and rest is very hard (and not always possible to the degree we need it) for all of us in this day and age. Be gentle with yourself. I wasn't going to write a post as long as this but actually as someone who needs to hear these things myself right now, maybe you might need to hear some of them as well.

The main thing is burnout doesn't last forever, it's cyclical, it's not like chronic fatigue, or other chronic illnesses. Even people with chronic fatigue (like me!) can experience burnout cycles. So this will pass! You may not feel like writing again in the same way, and that's okay, whatever new version of you evolves out of your current exhaustion, I hope you enjoy that version of yourself, and learn to care for and show compassion to the current version of your tired self as well <3

#asks and answers #burnout #creative burnout #pia on writing #look burnout is just really hard actually #there's no easy answers #like writer's block is hard but writer's block isn't hard like burnout is #because often in that exhaustion #we don't have the energy to care for ourselves properly #so do what you can #when you can #and be gentle with yourself

[fagexe]

my doc upped my adhd meds and my brain is rattling and nobody is home for me to talk to… so, here you go, it’s me! a machine of consciousness!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every once in a while i consider getting off tumblr, but then i remember that this is my main(only) source of people who care about mcr as much as i do. Don't get me wrong, i have friends who are always excited to hear me talk about whatever the fuck is going on with those freaks and i love them for it, but they don't really have a lot of opinions or things to say. They like to hear about it because they care about me and want to hear about the things that i care about, which is fucking wonderful! But, at a certain point i feel like a physicist talking to a first grader. They retain most of the information i give them and some of them listened to my chem growing up. But the ones that did were never like seriously into them. They know the hits or maybe had a bp cd in hs but that's it. Aka they weren't/aren't in the spaces and don't really have the full context and overflowing number of opinions that comes from being here for years and years and years. So.... i don't really know anybody irl who was and still is in the fandom. I had friends in “high school” that were into them at the same level i was at that point, but a lot of us have drifted apart or they've drifted away from mcr (i use quotation marks cuz i'm referring to the age range not actually going to high school ((since i didn't do that;) )). I think the third or fourth to last time i saw the person I talked about MCR the most with in hs was at a celebration show that absolutely rocked my world, but that was like 2014 or something idk. I still have that one on instagram:0 they're a dj now! it's so wonderful to see them finding success at something they were wanting to do back then. But like we don't really talk(meaning we don't talk). I want people to go off with irl so badly. dykegerard and amanda are the luckiest fucking duckies, also fievel is the cutest little baby!!!:) (ps i miss living with a dog so bad) (pps yes i know dykegerard has a real name but that's their name in my head) i want to marry somebody who cares about mcr as much as i do<3 it's nowhere near the top of what would be important for me to marry someone, but it would be cute.

Oh dear lord, okay, i went off for a second, give me a minute

Ok, my other thought was -> Yeah, i think i would miss having that (mcr besties) but like i only actually talk to a few people on here and if i wanted to i could talk to them somewhere else. But I like doing silly little zines!! And this is my main(only((unless one of my irl friends is doing one. But those zines are never fanzines, they are usually poetry or political, which I love, but it's definitely a different vibe )) source of knowing when those are happening and knowing when their apps are happening. I know a lot of them are promoted on twitter in addition to here. But! I absolutely refuse to go on twitter in any sort of real and sustained way. Yes, i have a twitter. Yes, i go on there occasionally. But no, i will not be replacing tumblr with twitter, doing that would keep all of the things i dislike about tumblr and the way i interact with it and get rid of most of the things i like about tumblr. Also as far as i can tell mcr twitter is absolutely fucking wild, and not in the way i want it to be.

Speaking of zines :) I've been looking through all of the final submissions for the swarm zine and everyone's work is so absolutely amazing, i'm so excited for it to come out. I'm also just generally like pretty proud of the piece I have in there:) Since going back to school for art stuff everything's gotten to feel much more serious, which isn't necessarily bad. I am genuinely very serious and care a lot about the work I make. But also like having a fun low stakes artistic outlet has been absolutely amazing :) Plus since the thing I work on at school is film/video/installation, working in a format that's not even kind of related to that is really wonderful:)) anyway, FFUCKING GET HYPE FOR SWARM TO COME OUT!! (Having all of that capitalized feels really aggressive and I don't like it but I wasn't sure which part to capitalize so I left it all capitalized. I thought about just having “fucking get hype” capitalized but then it seems weird to go from “high energy” to “low energy”:/, maybe just hype capitalized idk whatever.)

Ok i’m going to go see the regrettes at wickerfest see you later bye-bye <33

#wowwow ok that was a lot #you must felix your heart

[katatonicimpression]

I don't know if this is really, like, a real point to make or a thing I particularly care about or a hill I'm willing to die on, but I kind of really like x-statix and x-cellent but I also feel weird about that.

Like, I just read the new x-cellent and it made me laugh and maybe that should be it.

These are very silly, but often quite funny storylines. Low stakes stupidity and dumb jokes. I often enjoy them. I also like how self contained the storylines are; it's refreshing, especially during big events like Sins of Sinister. So, what's the issue?

So, two things

Hypocrisy

Political stuff

So, for the first point. Am I a hypocrite for finding a story about a bunch of x-characters doing stupid things with kinda corny, meme-y jokes enjoyable, when it's a thing I specifically complain about in, say, x-terminators?

There are some differences. The x-statix characters are almost entirely confined to their own storylines; they're characterised for this genre and therefore don't feel undermined by this kind of writing. But if Jubilee, Boom Boom etc. are suddenly dropped into these memetastic roles, it feels like they're out of character. You're expecting continuity and you're not getting it. And that's literal continuity of plot, but also continuity of characterisation, and of genre conventions.

But I think a lot of the comparison still holds. It probably is inconsistent of me to find pretty much the exact same sensibility irritating and unfunny when it turns up in x-terminators.

I dunno, maybe I was just set off by the phrase "juicy dumper" and was just never going to enjoy that series lol

...

2. the politics of x-statix... right. So off the bat, it's worth establishing that the intentions of these series has always been "progressive, but flippant."

So, they're having a diverse lineup, they're making lefty-liberal commentary about social issues, but they're doing it from a flippant, irreverent place. It's a similar tone to, like, Archer.

They actually had multiple out gay characters on the team way back in 2001. They have trans and non-binary characters, which is still a big deal even today. They talk about misogyny, about racism, about homophobic and transphobia.

But also... well, the flippant tone lets them down at times. I've talked before about "Spike"'s appearance in their 2001 run. It's bad. It's racist, it's homophobic.

Specifically, it feels like it's trying to do something clever with it's commentary on internalised racism or something, but ends up just duplicating weird stereotypes.

And it's not just that. There are a lot of times when it's veered out of Archer territory (which is ultimately pretty wholesome) and into almost South Park vibes (that is to say, mean-spirited).

A comparison I kind of want to make is to The Boys (the tv show specifically). In that, they have all these fun jabs at Disney and superhero movies in general. Social commentary on misogyny, social media, the commodification of lgbt+ people. And then... they also have commentary on race stuff and it's... um... not as sharp, not as precise.

I don't really have a conclusion about any of this. I feel conflicted because it's not like these series have never been egregiously offensive. It has, and I reckon it probably won't be the last time. And I feel weird about recommending them for that reason. But I also think they do deserve credit for their politics too sometimes. Especially back in the 00s when the overall vibe of Marvel was much less progressive.

....

So yeah, those are my weird thoughts about x-statix.

#Look #i promised i would stop complaining about symbol of truth because it was bringing down the vibes #so this is what you get instead

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

Alright. I trust yall enough to put this out there as a personal boundary, between yall and I, and hope you’ll do me the honour of respecting that.

I don’t know if this is an attitude shared among my mutuals or followers, but I’m straight up tired of seeing it.

TLDR if you like to threaten people or tell them to kill themselves over fandom shit, lets not be around each other, please and thank you! 

Further clarity, cautions, disclaimers, refrains, caveats, etc, below.

(Please refrain from reblogging.)

If you act like this 

Telling someone or even an entire demographic to off themselves, or threatening assault or murder, is cute or funny 

You’re comfortable telling people that (I don’t care about what you think or what you grumble to yourself in private where nobody can hear you, this is about what you express to other people) or comfortable mounting harrassment campaigns along these lines

and aren’t interested in rethinking or changing that

outside the absolute most egregious of situations,

then I politely ask we DNI. Block or unfollow me or give me a heads up so I can block you, or something. Just do me a favour and lets not interact.

For clarity’s sakes

I’m not talking writing Kim Jong Un’s name in a Death Note or some hypothetical equivalent, I’m talking actually going to people or putting it out there with intent for them to see/hear, incl. ‘as a joke’ or ‘just a meme’. DNs don’t work IRL. Running someone over does. Sexual assault does. Telling people to off themselves, even as a ‘joke’, does.

I'm allowing room for contexts I can't think of atm where it might be an appropriate, funny, or level response. I’m trusting you all to take time to judge for yourselves whether or not the context is appropriate to this level of reaction. 

This isn’t about ‘punch nazis’, this isn’t about legislation affecting our health or safety, this isn’t about fighting back against genuine discrimination that impedes our humanity. This is about low stakes disagreements being taken to an extreme. Hell, even less low stakes stuff like veganism, if you’re cool with saying stuff like this, let’s not be around each other. Nothing against veganism in general but certain types of people who happen to be vegan are way too comfy talking genocide and ‘KYS if you disagree with me’ for my personal preferences. Tastes, even.

Generally speaking it’s abhorrent to me, especially in such, frankly, low stakes contexts where no rights are actually being infringed upon like 90% of fandom. 

Yknow. That thing where we’re basically playing with our toys in the sandboxes of our minds with each other. 

Someone else having a different headcanon than you about Blorbo’s gender or sexuality just doesn’t justify that level of response imo, it is not WW3. You don’t have to like or agree with it, of course not, but let’s be real.

There are funnier, more effective, and less cruel ways to disagree with a person than baiting them to end their lives or threatening their lives or safety. As anyone who’s been bullied will tell you, our words, our jokes, have real effects and in those real effects lay real possibilities. 

I don’t want to say you’re automatically “responsible” if someone takes you up on that, I’m not entirely comfortable with that enough to make a blanket statement about it.

What I am saying is if those possibilities you put out there are something you’re comfortable with happening and moreover are comfortable encouraging to happen

I don’t feel safe around you, straight up.

Thank you.

(Please refrain from reblogging.)

x2 jic asdfgas

#tw suicide mention #tw assault mention

[loopy777]

What do you think about the possibility of Mai appearing in the new Avatar movie(s) and whether the resolution of Maiko will appear in them?

Well, I'm probably not the person to ask, as I didn't even consider the possibility at first that they're probably going to be streaming-exclusive. And I'm bad at figuring out these streaming strategies, as a lot of the stuff being produced for the various platforms doesn't make any sense to me as a draw. Prestige animated shows with ten-episode seasons don't seem like they would have broad enough appeal to be worth their weight in subscribers, and bad live-action adaptations of super-old anime don't appeal to anyone, yet millions and millions of dollars are being spent on stuff like that.

But let's assume that, despite Avatar being a loser for Nickelodeon three times now (AtLA wasn't the Harry Potter-esque merchandising empire Nick wanted, the live-action movie was an infamous bomb, and LoK got canceled and banished to streaming back when that was a punishment), the Avatar fandom members who are willing to spend money are numerous enough that Paramount+ wants to actually put in the work to get us to subscribe. One way to do that is to make us have to go to them to get the resolution to the only long-running plotline from the comics. In that case, a movie entitled “Maiko Finally Gets Back Together There Are You Happy Now?” seems like it would be a perfect shot. However, I can’t help but wonder how many fans both have been rooting for that outcome and actually want to watch such a thing rather than just having it finally confirmed. And, naturally, this would only appeal to people who have been reading the comics. Anyone who only saw the cartoon is going to be really confused when they fire up the sequel and suddenly everyone is talking about Mai leaving Zuko because he lied about all the assassination attempts and going to his father for advise.

And, personally, I’ve long been skeptical of the idea of continuing the franchise with The Further And Low-Stakes Adventures Of The gAang. That’s only going to appeal to existing fans, at most, and I feel like the Avatar franchise has a lot more growth potential that’s remained untapped. Sure, LoK was a failure, but I don’t think that’s because it didn’t have Aang in it; I think it was aimed at the completely wrong audience compared to how it was broadcast. Kids watching cartoons on early Saturday-morning aren’t really looking for metaphors about political ideology or messy love-triangles, you know? And people who had loved AtLA enough to come back for the sequel weren’t really looking for a shift in genre and the romances to take their cues from Zutara fanfic. I think it’s perfectly viable to start fresh with a new Avatar and era, just so long as you make sure the story finds its audience. We don’t need to keep relying on Aang to cash in on nostalgia.

But nostalgia turned the latest Spider-Man movie into a billion-dollar hit, so what do I know?

For what it’s worth, I think there’s an almost guaranteed chance of Mai at least appearing, and a decent chance of the Maiko breakup being addressed in some fashion, even if it’s just “Don’t worry about an old plotline from the comics because they’re only canon until we overwrite them anyway.”

[theriverdalereviewer]

finished foreign affairs and i think this might be the most poorly written choices book. ever.

#and i’ll tell you why #for a book about politics it really wasn’t a present as you would think it is #like so much of the plot’s problems had to do with the paparazzi and regular college shit that you would think it was about celebrities #and since the plot hinges on scandal’s you’d think that they would be really big scandals when they weren’t at all #in fact the only big one was a diamond option that in context makes no sense to agree to #the only time the plot got interesting was when the fake dating stuff started and that ended so fast i don’t even know what the point was #not to mention how much it doesn’t make sense depending on how your love interest looks #cause blaine is a black man in my book and he looks nothing like the two options to fake date #speaking of blaine did we ever find out about the whole suspension thing i can’t remember #as for the other lis tatum randomly left us and then came back and i don’t know what the point of it was #but i guess anya’s storyline made sense so there’s that #the mystery on the other hand was just bad #like whoever was behind our scandals stuff was so obvious #the fact that our mom’s campaign rival was involved was so utterly obvious that i ruled it out #so that was disappointing #and then i think it was clear to everyone that winston was behind the scandals anyways #going back to the politics stuff it was all so low stakes #the way it all worked was so unrealistic idk if that’s the world building to blame #and our main characters relationship with their mom was just plain uninteresting #ALSO unsurprisingly that diplomacy points system made no difference i see pixelberry are still afraid to give different endings #oh and the ending was rushed and corny the end #foreign affairs #fa #choices #choices: stories you play #okay last thing that didn’t make sense and then i’m done #how our mom’s political rival put in all this effort to hide their identity and then when they have to go meet anya in person #THEY DONT EVEN TRY TO DISGUISE THEMSELVES?? like that made no sense

[redwinterroses]

Hypothetically speaking, if you were a ruler in Empires SMP, what would your relationships with the rest of the kingdoms be?

What kind of ruler is the Queen of Frigid Roses?

Oooh what a lovely question. I can't say I've thought about it (my i-made-this-because-everyone-else-was-doing-it empiresona was a citizen of Pixandria.) But now you've poked my worldbuilding button so... Right. Let's see here.

We'll call it Rosarian. (the word for someone who cultivates roses)

Rosarian probably a high meadows kingdom (we'll pretend the world is 1.18 and has those lol) with snowy tops to the higher hills but lovely little dells full of flowers. My kingdom would probably be a pretty farming-centric land, and would have specialized agriculture to grow even non-native crops -- cactus, bamboo, kelp, sweetberries... all sorts of things. As an agrarian society, the yearly calendar is probably built around harvest and planting times -- for example, the school year begins right after harvest and goes until spring planting (but most people, unless they live in a very densely populated city) are either homeschooled or share a governess/tutor between just a couple of houses.

As for Rosarian's relationship with other empires: probably on pretty good terms with Gilded Helianthia, House Blossom, and the Undergrove, simply because trade between those kingdoms would probably be very low-stakes and friendly. (Except, of course, when it comes to anything traded to other kingdoms where things might get competitive.. lol.) It's probably not a very strong kingdom in terms of military might, but it's like Rohan in that every citizen is at least trained in basic self-defense and can rally to the Queen's flag when called. However, we have vast networks of caves under our meadows, and high icy peaks to retreat to, so if attacked we tend more toward rogue warfare than outright battle.

I'd like to think I'd be on at least friendly, non-antagonistic terms with all the empires, though prank wars with the Grimlands and Mezalia seem inevitable. XD On a personal level, I think I'd gravitate toward Pixlriffs, Pearl, Jimmy, Lizzie, and Joel as the sort of people I'd like to hang out with, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I'd end up gremlin-ing with Sausage and/or fWhip, lol. (and Scott intimidates me. so. I'd probably be Very Polite to Rivendell.)

As a ruler, I'd be pretty laid back, I think. I tend to be a bit bearlike -- sleepy and chill as long as everything's good, but if you poke me I will retaliate and it will be bigger and better and I will have a new head to add to my collection, lol.

...anyway, I could go on, because I adore creating new cultures and lands and things and there could be stuff about rose symbolism and how different colors mean different things, and the idea of a rose being beautiful but having thorns if you're not careful, and winter festivals full of hothouse flowers grown in lava-warmed caves and courtships where you absolutely do not give someone roses because that's a sacred thing saved only for weddings and funerals, and all sorts of other stuff. I Could Go On.

But this is long enough now, so I won't. ;P

Thanks for the fun ask!

#fun fact: red is a huge world-building nerd #and when i say huge i mean i have an entire wall-sized map of various kingdoms that I came up with #drew out and came up with histories and cultures for all of them #this is one big reason why I love DMing more than playing in DnD #redwinteranswers #long post

[jingabitch]

To Love an Empress

SUMMARY: Despite the acrimonious beginning to your relationship, Yoongi is drawn to you.

PAIRING: emperor!yoongi x empress!reader

RATING: E

WARNINGS: smut | unprotected sex (they’re husband and wife and also this is a historical au so there are no condoms but be safe okay) | references to war | yoongi’s scar is discussed | yoongi kills a man (mentioned but not explicit) | secret admirer stuff

WORD COUNT: 9.8k

A/N: My final submission for the BTS Ghostie bingo, yay! This one fills the secret admirer tile. This fic is kind of based on Henry VII and Elizabeth of York’s early relationship, and inspired by The White Princess, so if some of the dialogue and scenes are similar, that’s why. 

Shoutout to my lovely betas @knjkitten and @yoongs-jeontae for helping me beta this! Banner by @jkeuphoriadreamland​ 💕 i’ve never had a banner on a fic before this is fun hehe

Min Yoongi was a hard man, and he knew it. He’d won his throne on the battlefield, running his sword through the old king and crowning himself right there on the blood-stained grass.

You knew it too, could never forget it when you looked at your husband. The scar on his face from an injury he’d sustained during the decisive battle for his crown; the memory of how coldly he’d treated you at the beginning; the baby growing inside you as a result of Yoongi’s insistence that you demonstrate your ability to provide him with heirs before he would marry you. As if he’d had a choice, when your bloodline was the cornerstone of his legitimacy.

After all the angry words and hostility between the two of you, he knew there was no chance you would forgive him. And yet, a part of him craved it. He saw the kindness you lavished on your ladies-in-waiting, the servants, and all the children running around the palace who were sons and daughters of the nobles and the army of servants working here. Was it so wrong of him to want just a little of that for himself? You were his wife, after all.

Yoongi was a warrior. He’d trained all his life to take control of the kingdom. War was all he knew.

Which made him, unfortunately, woefully inept when it came to wooing a lady, especially one so resistant to him. He’d relied on his looks before, but now that he had the scar on his face, it seemed that even that tool was no longer at his disposal. God knows you hated it.

With no one else to turn to, he asked his eunuch what he should do. At first, the portly man just blinked at him, confused. “She’s your wife, you don’t have to persuade her to warm your bed,” he pointed out.

Yoongi grimaced. “I know that,” he grumbled. “I want her to like me.”

Sambo snorted. “Should have thought about that before you made her ‘prove her fertility’ to you.”

Sulking, Yoongi got up and stormed away from his eunuch. Obviously, he knew that, and he wished that no one else did. It wasn’t like him to force a lady like that, but tensions had been running high at the time and he hadn’t trusted a woman from the house of L/n. You must have run to your lady-in-waiting and cried to her when it was over, because Sambo had gotten quite the shelling from her the next day.

Sambo, who’d quickly grown used to the antics of his master, just hurried along beside Yoongi. “Just give her something pretty,” he advised. “Women like that.”

Yoongi stopped short. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “That’s a great idea,” he enthused. “You’re useful for once, Sambo,” he praised his eunuch.

Sambo rolled his eyes to hide his pleased smile. “You’d think a grown man would know something like that,” he jibed. “Taking love advice from someone who can’t even perform must be a new low for you.”

“Whatever.” Yoongi waved off the insult. “I’ll get her a nice hairpin,” he decided. “But don’t tell her it’s from me.” He didn’t want you throwing it out in disgust.

“She’s obviously going to know,” Sambo pointed out. “There is no man in Joseon suicidal enough to woo the empress. That’s treason.”

Frowning, Yoongi snapped, “Just do it,” before stalking back into his room with a huff and shutting the door in Sambo’s face. The eunuch really didn’t need to rain on his parade like that, even if he was probably right. Hopefully you wouldn’t immediately come to the conclusion that it was him. It wasn’t just that he was afraid you’d throw out a gift from him—he wanted to make you smile. Not because you were bound to him and might as well exhibit some fondness towards your husband, but because he was really, truly capable of making you happy.

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

Pregnancy had been difficult for you so far. Without your mother around, you were left to go through it by yourself. At least Ling, your personal servant-turned-lady-in-waiting, was here with you. You’d been together since you were a child and she was a young teen, and she was like a sister to you.

The morning sickness was starting to fade, thankfully, but you still got nauseous sometimes, so Ling suggested that you have your breakfast in the courtyard to enjoy some fresh air and sunshine while the cleaners dusted and polished your quarters.

When you finally got back to your room after being bullied by Ling into taking a little walk – exercise was good for the baby, she insisted – there was a hairpin lying on your table, next to the novel you’d been reading. Curiously, you knelt down to pick it up.

“What’s this?” you asked Ling, who was trailing a few steps behind you.

“It’s a hairpin, milady,” she responded somewhat cluelessly.

“Yes,” you said patiently, “but why is it here? I’ve never seen this before.” Looking more closely at it, you turned it over a few times in your hand. It truly was pretty, a delicate gold phoenix carved into the end of the pin, decorated with pink flowers and milky jade balls around the base of the phoenix.

Sitting down on the other side of the table, Ling pulled your hand holding the pin closer to her so she could examine it too. “I don’t know, but it’s so pretty,” she sighed. “Maybe you have a secret admirer,” she giggled.

“Yes, the pregnant empress has a secret admirer,” you said drolly. Everything about your existence, from the gilded cage you were trapped in, to your marriage to the most powerful man in Joseon, to the heir you were carrying in you, screamed that you were taken, owned by a man. And not just any man, of course, but the one whose wife was strictly, on pain of death, off-limits.

“Well, you never know,” Ling said lightly. “Just take it for what it is,” she advised. “Someone wants to make you happy!”

“All right,” you accepted skeptically, but you couldn’t quite stop the smile from stealing across your face. After living as a political pawn for so many years because of your family and giving up everything for the man who’d killed your uncle, it did feel nice to think that there was someone out there who liked you for you.

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

You weren’t stupid, of course. You had considered that it was your husband who’d had the pin sent to you. It made sense, after all – he was the only man in the whole of Joseon who could do something like that. It didn’t take long for you to disabuse yourself of that notion, however. Yoongi hated you, considered you the snake in his midst. Taking a L/n bride after defeating the House of L/n was the last thing he’d wanted to do, and he’d made that abundantly clear when you met. Hell, even before that, when he’d sent a platoon to your residence in the countryside to retrieve you.

Your first interaction with the new emperor had gone woefully poorly, with cruel words said on both sides.

As angry and resentful as you were about being claimed as his wife, you weren’t in any mood to be supplicant to the new emperor. When they brought you to meet him, in an admittedly charming gazebo, you knelt without bowing or greeting him, refusing to even look straight at him.

“Are you just going to sulk, then?” he drawled, and you barely resisted the urge to strangle him with your bare hands.

“We’ve done nothing right; surely you aren’t insisting that we follow tradition now?” you replied, your light tone doing little to hide your displeasure. This was all wrong, you knew. Despite Ling hovering just out of earshot keeping a watchful eye on things, you knew that your reputation was at stake simply from meeting the emperor alone before you were married.

It was unusual for you to enter the palace knowing that you were to be the empress, too. Usually the empress dowager chose her son’s bride, based on a series of tests that demonstrated her suitability for the throne. But, you knew, you were already the best candidate, purely based on your bloodlines.

Yoongi leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of him. “Of course not,” he said, and his low, dangerous voice caused your breath to catch as you jerked your head forward to look at him properly for the first time. You couldn’t help but gasp at the long scab slicing through his eye. Catching you staring at it, he smiled bitterly.

“Are you afraid of your fiancé?” he asked.

“Of course not,” you hissed. “Just horrified that I have to lie with a disfigured monster.”

You remembered the way he’d jerked back, as if scalded. Okay, so you weren’t blameless in the current state of affairs you found yourself in, this hateful sham of a marriage that neither of you enjoyed. Still, given the acrimonious relationship you had with your husband, it seemed less than likely that he was your secret admirer.

“Poor, pitiful L/n Y/n,” he responded coldly. “Why don’t we get it over with, then?”

“What?!” you gasped, your hand flying to your mouth.

He smiled at you coldly. “I will not repeat the mistakes of previous emperors,” he informed you, and your lips pursed in displeasure, recognizing his comment for the jibe that it was – most of the previous emperors in the history of the kingdom had been your ancestors. “Having no legitimate heir is a recipe for disaster.”

Despite your best attempts to avoid giving him the satisfaction of your reaction, you couldn’t hold back the blanch. Smirking in satisfaction at having gotten back at you for the cruel insult, he continued, “We will be wed only when you are pregnant.”

Really, after all was said and done, it was no wonder that you and your husband despised each other.

Still, maybe there was a part of you that wished the pin had come from him. It wasn’t that you were in love with Yoongi or something insipid like that, it was just… you were kind of lonely here in the palace, with hardly anyone you knew around. The only person you’d been allowed to bring with you was Ling, because she’d been your servant for so long.

It would be nice to feel, just once more in your life, like you had a friend around you.

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

As your pregnancy progressed, you grew increasingly miserable and annoyed, and your secret admirer stepped up his efforts to cheer you up. From pretty flowers on your pillow to new books when you finished your existing ones, even pretty ribbons and once, a bag of a rare tea that was supposed to alleviate morning sickness, this mysterious individual was showing you more care than your own husband.

You rarely saw Yoongi these days, since he was usually busy in the throne hall, setting the country back to rights. Being a woman, you never got to attend the morning meetings and reading of the petitions, but from what you heard, Yoongi wasn’t the most competent politician. It frustrated you to no end – you were the daughter and niece of the past two emperors, had grown up learning about politics, history and economics, and yet your role was basically being a baby incubator while your inexperienced husband was led down all sorts of rabbit holes as the ministers tried to take advantage of the situation to fatten their own coffers.

The last straw came when you heard of a proposed tax increase for the peasants, purportedly to shore up the kingdom’s defenses. You knew Minister Su, who was in charge of defense, was greedy and corrupt, but very eloquent and had many supporters among the cabinet. Overcoming your own reluctance to speak to your husband directly, you stormed into his private quarters one evening, while he was relaxing with a drink.

“Get out,” you ordered his eunuch, who was kneeling by his side.

Sambo looked over at Yoongi, who nodded at him. Once the doors slid shut behind the eunuch, you knelt in front of your husband. Since you were about six months pregnant now, it was difficult for you to maneuver, but you managed. “I need to talk to you,” you told him.

“I gathered that,” he said dryly. “Could this not wait for a more appropriate audience?”

“No,” you rejected him flatly. “I heard that you’re considering a new tax on the peasants.”

“That’s none of your business.” He leaned back slightly and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You should reject the tax proposal, Your Grace,” you said quietly.

“I said, that’s none of your business,” he thundered, slamming his fist down on the table.

You winced, but continued, undeterred. “Minister Su does not have the best interests of the kingdom in mind, Your Grace. There was a bad harvest this year, and the people will not stand for a tax now, especially when they are already so tired of conflict.”

It seemed that bringing up the civil war that had just been fought between Yoongi and your uncle was a bad idea, as he looked even more furious. He sucked in a deep breath to yell at you, but you quickly continued, cutting him off before he could start.

“Your reign is still new, Your Grace, and the people are still unsure about you. Now is the time for generosity, so that they learn to love you.”

“Why does a L/n empress care about whether the people love me? You and your family hate me; you fought a war against me,” he scoffed, leaning back on his hands in a casual pose to show just how little he cared.

Bristling indignantly, you bit back, “You raised an army against my family! You are the usurper! Make no mistake of it, sir, I advise you not because of any attachment to you, but because I care about this kingdom.”

At that, some of the fire left him. “Everyone claims to care about the kingdom, but all they really care about is themselves. Do you think I don’t know that my ministers are watching me, waiting to take advantage? That people are plotting against me as we speak?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s what it means to be the emperor. My father had the same thing, as did my uncle – from you.” Maybe goading him wasn’t the best thing to do right now, but you were pregnant, uncomfortable and irritated.

“Then how do I know that I can trust you?” he retorted, his frustration with the current situation bleeding through his voice.

You were going to murder this man, you swore. He wouldn’t need to wait for any plot coming from outside the palace walls. How could someone be capable enough to enact a coup against the emperor, and yet so frustratingly dim when it came to politics?

“Because my wagon is tied to yours, you idiot. I am your empress now before I am a L/n woman, and this child I carry inside me is a Min child. Do you think that if your rule fails, I can just go home, and all will be well for me? I will be executed together with you, and so will our child.”

That seemed to shut him up. “I’ll think about it,” he finally allowed grudgingly.

“Thank you,” you said, bowing with your forehead pressed to the back of your palms over the floor.

After you’d left, Yoongi thought about how that was the first time you’d bowed to him. It seemed there was much he didn’t know about his wife.

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

The next afternoon, you heard from Ling that the tax on the peasants had been rejected, and a jeweled comb was delivered to your room. This particular gift came directly from Sambo, so you knew that it was from Yoongi, and you accepted it for the apology that it was.

Two weeks later, proof of Minister Su’s corruption and embezzlement came to light, and he was sent into exile. You might have felt slightly smug about it, since you’d hated Minister Su ever since your own father was the emperor, but mostly you felt a little bad for Yoongi, having to deal with something like that so soon after coming to power.

That same night, Yoongi invited you to have dinner with him. Well, it was more like an order, because you weren’t in any position to turn down the emperor, but Ling was excited nonetheless as she got you ready, helping you into your pretty jeogori and braiding your hair into an elaborate bun.

“I’m so happy for you,” she gushed as she stood in front of you, tying the jeogori. “This could be the start of a new relationship between the two of you!”

“You know I can’t get more pregnant, right?” you asked drolly, raising a brow. In fact, you’d pretty much expected him to leave you alone for the rest of the pregnancy and only call on you once you were recovered enough to perform your conjugal duties once more.

“Oh, hush,” she giggled. “I’m sure he wants to see how you’re doing. You are carrying his heir, after all.”

“Sure, that’s me,” you muttered. “The incubator.”

“Be nice,” she admonished. “You want him to like you, so that he’ll give you more privileges. When your son becomes emperor, then you can swan around all day like the crone.” Suffice it to say, neither of you liked your mother-in-law that much.

“I know,” you sighed. “I’m just uncomfortable all the time.” Entering your third trimester of pregnancy, you were having trouble standing around and kneeling on the ground? Impossible. You’d had a table and chair moved into your room so that you could sit comfortably, but as far as you knew, Yoongi still sat on the ground for most of the day.

Ling didn’t know about your late-night meeting with the emperor a few weeks prior, but you wondered if this dinner had something to do with that.

In Yoongi’s room, something similar was happening, as Sambo fussed over his master’s robes.

“Sambo, enough,” Yoongi sighed. “I don’t have to look nice; she’s already my wife.”

Sambo scoffed. “I said the same thing to you about sending her those gifts, but you insisted then too.”

Yoongi glared at his eunuch without saying anything, mostly because he had no argument against that. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted the man; he’d done nothing but tease him about his crush since he found out.

Thankfully, your arrival cut Sambo’s fussing short – yet another thing he had to be grateful to you for, he supposed. It stung a little that his wife apparently knew more about politics than he did, but you seemed to want to help him, so there was that.

“Your Grace,” you greeted, bowing slightly.

“Good evening,” he responded. “Please, sit,” he invited, gesturing towards the table he had brought into his room just for this. He remembered how much you’d struggled with kneeling on the ground, and then getting up, the last time you’d come to visit him, and thought that this would make it easier for you.

You’d seen the table as soon as you entered the room, of course – it was kind of hard to miss, since the room was mostly empty. Accepting his offer with a gracious smile, you sat yourself down and clasped your hands together demurely in your lap. Yoongi sat across from you and nodded at the servant standing in the corner, and that was the signal for the food to start coming in.

To be honest, you’d expected to see Yoongi’s favourite dishes being served tonight, since everything at your wedding banquet had been his favourite foods, so you were pleasantly surprised to note that it was the food you’d been repeatedly requesting due to your cravings instead.

When the servants left, closing the doors after them, Yoongi spoke. “Please eat.” He gestured at the spread, and you acquiesced, picking up your chopsticks.

“Thank you for the advice,” he started.

The food you were holding with your chopsticks fell back onto your bowl of rice as your hand went limp in shock. “Wh-what?” Of all the things he could have said, that was the one you’d been expecting the least. In all honesty, you’d expected something more like admonishment for interfering – and a lack of other punishment that would serve as tacit acknowledgement that you’d been right. It was how your father had been with your mother.

To be fair, it looked like it was costing him dearly to thank you. “You were right about the tax,” he ground out.

“Oh…” You recovered quickly and nodded, graciously accepting his thanks.

“But don’t make a habit of interfering,” he continued. Right… so there was a catch, after all.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course not,” you said sarcastically. “I’m just the brainless baby incubator, after all. It’s not like I grew up here, or have any knowledge and experience of palace politics, or anything of the sort.”

“You’re a woman—” he thundered, slamming his chopsticks down on the table.

“I am your empress,” you cut him off. “You insisted on marrying me precisely because of my bloodline, so I will not be sidelined, especially when we both know you could use all the help you can get!”

“Help that I can get from my advisors,” he huffed.

“One of your ministers was literally just exiled for corruption, so I don’t know why you want to throw in your lot with them, but sure.” You rolled your eyes. “Now, if that was all, I think I can take my meal in my own quarters tonight.”

Unfortunately, your dramatic exit was foiled by how much you struggled to get out of your seat. Biting back his smile at how cute you looked with your belly, Yoongi leapt to your aid – you were, after all, still his wife and carrying his child, so it was the least he could do.

You pinned him with a glare as he got up to assist you, but were left with no choice but to accept, holding on to his proffered arm and letting him basically hoist you up. “If you need anything…” he started, looking slightly contrite.

“Don’t worry, Your Grace,” you said. “I might be ‘just a woman’ –” your tone made it clear that you were mocking him, and he had the grace to look slightly chagrined – “but I am the empress, and I am carrying the heir to Joseon, so I get everything I ask for.”

“Good, that’s good…” he looked slightly shifty now, and you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. He’d been acting like a bit of a dick, but to be fair, you supposed, it wasn’t like his attitude was uncommon. With Ling’s reminder ringing in your ears, you took his hand and brought it to the swell of your belly. Your child was strong and healthy, and even through the layers of your clothes Yoongi could feel the flutter of kicks.

“Wow…” he looked entranced, and you couldn’t help but smile at him. Your child had been conceived in hatred and anger, but you were determined that you would not raise him in that environment. No, he would know only love. You were sure of it.

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

Even though the dinner hadn’t gone according to plan, it was still somewhat of a shift in your relationship with your husband. Now when your paths crossed, he smiled at you instead of just walking by stonily.

The gifts from your secret admirer continued too, which made things kind of confusing for you. On the one hand, you were trying to make this thing with your husband work, if only so that your child could grow up in a positive environment. It was difficult enough growing up in the palace, something you were keenly aware of.

And yet, the continued attention from this unknown person was starting to tug at your heartstrings. You hardly knew who it was but being shown kindness without any ulterior motive was certainly enough for you to think fondly of your secret admirer. He didn’t send gifts that often, usually once every other week or so, but each one brought a smile to your face. Sometimes it was your favourite flower, or a snack from another part of the world, or a cute trinket from the market, but all of them were equally dear to you.

The fluttering feeling that you got in your chest when you saw that he’d left you another gift was somewhat tempered by the guilt over the whole situation. Were you allowed to enjoy this attention? You looked furtively around, slightly worried that someone was going to knock the Japanese cakes out of your hand.

“You know,” Sambo said, standing next to Yoongi, who was peering at you from his hidden position behind a wall, “Some of your subjects might find it unseemly for their emperor to spend his days spying on his wife.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi grumbled, although the words had no heat to them, given how distracted he currently was. He hoped you liked the cakes.

“If you want to spend time with her, you can just ask, you know,” Sambo pointed out. “Haven’t you two been getting along better lately?”

“She still gets annoyed at me every time,” he sighed. “I don’t want to upset her, she looks miserable enough as is.”

Sambo, watching you rub the small of your back as Ling fussed over you, had to agree. At eight months pregnant, you looked fit to pop. “Well, she’ll give birth soon, and then things will be better,” he said, patting the emperor on the back. “You really need to be more discreet, though. She can tell it’s you from a mile away.”

Yoongi looked over at Sambo and scowled. “No way,” he denied.

“Really? So there are lots of men walking around decked out in the emperor’s robes, and have blonde hair, then?”

“Fine.” Yoongi sulked. “Let’s go, then.”

“You know you have a bunch of petitions to review, right?”

“I get it.”

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

To put it mildly, labour sucked. But at the end of it, you had a beautiful little boy, handed to you wrapped in a blanket. “Wow,” you marveled at your son, stroking his cheek with your thumb as you cuddled him close. Your own dear boy. Cradling him in your arms, it hardly mattered that he was a Min, that he represented the end of your house on the throne. Your son was all that mattered now.

Looking up, you saw Yoongi hovering by the entrance to the room, looking on hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure if he would be welcome. The idea was laughable to you – he was the emperor, there was nowhere he couldn’t go. You remembered your own father striding around as if he owned the place, because he did. No matter how fond he’d been of your mother, it had always been clear in the way he acted that he knew he was the boss. At best, she was a favoured subordinate.

You could see some of that attitude in Yoongi, and you accepted it – that was how men were, after all. But sometimes, peeking through the haughty exterior, you caught glimpses of someone kind and considerate. Someone you could grow fond of.

“Come in and meet him,” you invited.

As he came closer, he breathed, “It’s a boy?” His voice was slightly choked.

Smiling, you nodded. He knelt next to you and peered into the blanket, staring down at his son for the first time. Then he turned his head slightly to regard you. “You look beautiful,” he complimented, and you looked up, surprised. You didn’t know exactly what you looked like, but you were sure you were a mess after labour and childbirth. Your hair was a matted, sweaty mess, and you were dressed simply, in a cotton underdress.

Still, from the way he watched you holding the baby, you could have been dressed in the most beautiful of clothes and jewels.

“Do you want to hold him?” you asked, and his eyes lit up.

“Can I?” he asked. You nodded, passing the little bundle over to him.

“My son,” he said softly, leaning his head down to get closer to the baby. “Min Man-bok.” The name had been chosen by the astrologers, who said it would bring him great fortune throughout his life. You hoped it was true. This boy would grow up to be the emperor that united the warring houses of Min and L/n, and finally put an end to all the senseless violence that had stolen the lives of your brothers, and later, your uncle.

As you watched them – your husband and your son – you felt a sense of contentment like you’d never known before. In that moment, it hardly mattered that they were the emperor and the crown prince, that the weight of the kingdom rested upon your baby’s tiny shoulders. For that brief window, they could just be… yours.

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

The birth of your son changed everything. The gifts that had once been so dear to you because they meant that someone was out there thinking of you now seemed almost uncomfortable, like unwanted attention that threatened the security of your family. You knew it was ridiculous – after all, the giver of said gifts had been quietly doing so for months, never trying to push his luck or making his identity known to you.

Still, though, as you became closer to your husband, that nagging feeling that you were doing something wrong wouldn’t leave you. Thankfully, the gifts seemed to dry up, and you wondered if your anonymous admirer was really that astute. Whoever he was, you owed him your gratitude. He’d known when to start, and, it seemed, just when to stop.

In actuality, Yoongi had just been too busy to think about sending the gifts. Having a son took up much of the time that he wasn’t already spending governing, which had also increased in the past month or so. There was so much entertaining to do, as the lords and ladies of the land came to express their fealty to the crown prince, and as Yoongi made ever more ambitious diplomatic alliances with other kingdoms now that his reign was secured with the birth of his son.

In whatever spare time he had, he was constantly hanging around you and Man-bok, fawning over his son and enjoying your company. Despite your confinement, you thwarted the rules by sitting right outside your door to get a little sun and fresh air, often holding your son while you did so. It was a beautiful sight, one he wanted to continue to drink in for the rest of his days.

It was no surprise, therefore, that his priority wasn’t sending cute gifts to you anonymously, since he was always around you. When your confinement finally ended, he threw a little two-person party, ordering the kitchen to make all of the food you’d been craving since you were pregnant that had been off-limits for you, including your old favourites. He even managed to get the cook from your country estate into the palace, to make your childhood favourite.

“Thank you for dinner,” you said at the end of it, resisting the urge to lean back on your hands to give your stomach more space.

“Thank you,” he countered. “I am forever in your debt.”

“It was my duty,” you demurred. It was the truth – you’d always known that it would be your job to bring heirs to your husband.

“Still.” There was a beat of silence as a servant rushed to fill your cups with rice wine. He lifted his cup to toast you. “You have brought new hope to this kingdom. An emperor who will unite the houses of Min and L/n.”

“I thought our marriage accomplished that,” you giggled. You might have had too much alcohol tonight, after almost a year of not having any.

“You really think so?” he breathed, looking at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky and told him they were for him.

“Yoongi…” It was the first time you’d called him by name. In your defense, the open, vulnerable way he was looking at you made it difficult to remember that he was a warrior king, despite the scar on his face that attested to his experience fighting a war. “Of course, Your Grace.” You recovered from your slip quickly, and you flushed slightly, hoping he wouldn’t remember it.

Of course, that was a doomed wish. He’d committed it to memory, the sound of your precious voice speaking his name, and in that almost fond and tender tone, too. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest, and knew he was done for.

When he left your quarters that night after dinner, he barely waited till he’d descended the steps to pump his fist in the air. That was the most successful interaction you’d had with him to date, not counting when Man-bok was born, of course, since he was pretty sure you were so exhausted you couldn’t snipe at him if you tried then.

“Your Grace!” Sambo, walking a step behind him, sounded scandalized.

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

“So, tonight went well,” Ling prompted as she helped you get ready for bed. You sat in front of her, letting her take the pins out of your hair and sighing in relief. Your updo was often twisted so tightly it pulled on your scalp, and the giant metal pins hurt, to say the least.

“How would you know that?” you murmured, trying to keep a straight face. Ling would never let you live this down if you confessed to her just how much you enjoyed the company of your husband these days. Not after you’d screamed so loudly and for so long about how you hated him and didn’t ever want him to touch you.

In your defense, he’d really been a nightmare to live with at the beginning, cold and angry, mistrustful of your intentions. Not that he’d had any reason to trust you based on the way you’d treated him. You still cringed to think of the angry, cruel words that had been exchanged between you. You’d mocked the scar on his face from your uncle, the previous emperor, and he’d taken pleasure in describing the way he ran his sword through him in exchange. You’d laughed at his tenuous grip on the throne, and he’d—

Well. Suffice it to say, both of you had moved past that.

Ling reached over you to shift the mirror so that you could see your own face in it. “You’ve always had a shitty poker face, milady,” she explained. “You can’t hide anything from me.”

You sighed. “I knew I should have gotten different servants when I came,” you responded without any heat.

“Please, as if you have the patience to teach someone else just how you like your morning routine,” Ling scoffed, recognizing your teasing for what it was. Finally removing the last pin from your hair, she smoothed her hands over it as it tumbled down your back, then picked up the brush to comb through it.

“You’re right. I guess I’m stuck with you,” you responded, tilting the mirror slightly so you could look at Ling in it.

“Whatever. Stop trying to change the subject,” Ling ordered. “What happened tonight? You looked so happy when he left, and he could barely hold back his grin.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not that,” you said defensively. “I’m barely even recovered from giving birth; I’m hardly ready for more.”

“All right,” Ling conceded, though you could tell from her tone that she was still amused. Belatedly, you realised that your defense hadn’t been about how you felt about your husband at all. “Have a good night, milady.”

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

Having a son changed everything. You knew, perhaps better than anyone else, save your brothers, the dangers that came with being an heir to the throne, and it worried you to pieces that his life would never be safe.

You’d told your husband before, completely unsympathetically, that this was what being the king would entail. Having people after you, coveting what was yours, always lurking in the shadows and waiting for a time to strike… the idea that your own son would be subject to the travails of being the emperor made you want to clutch him to your breast and never let him go.

Yoongi caught you in one of your moods one afternoon, sitting in the gazebo in your private gardens, leaning against a pillar as you rested your son against your thighs. You cooed at him as you played with his hands and feet, smiling as he laughed back at you, but the furrow of your brow gave you away.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, sitting down next to you. It was rare for you two to be alone – Ling and Sambo were usually hanging around, and Man-bok’s nanny and wet nurse weren’t too far from the baby either. But you’d wanted a little time to bond with your son alone, so they were hanging out by the pond a small distance away. Ling had become friends with the nanny and nurse, and they were more than happy to have a little free time to gossip.

You picked up your infant son’s hand and used it to wave at him. “Hello, daddy,” you said in a high-pitched baby voice, and Yoongi smiled tenderly at the both of you, although you were still looking down at Man-bok and didn’t see it.

“Hello, my son,” he replied, leaning in to pick Man-bok up. You straightened his clothes a little as Yoongi stood the baby up on his lap, bouncing him a little. Yoongi was truly a remarkably involved father, especially for being the emperor.

“Yoongi, I’m worried about Man-bok,” you confessed in a small voice, looking up at your husband for the first time. Even the scar on his face now was a reminder of how difficult it was to be the emperor – Yoongi had been lucky to escape with just a disfigured face. He hadn’t even lost his vision.

“What’s wrong with him?” Yoongi asked with a frown, turning the boy slightly in his grasp to inspect him. He looked healthy enough, but you never knew with babies, really.

“Nothing,” you rushed to reassure him. “It’s just that being the crown prince is dangerous, and being the emperor is even worse.” Your voice choked up as you explained. Saying the words out loud made them more real somehow, and you almost wished you hadn’t.

“Y/n…” Yoongi looked over at you, shifting Man-bok so that he was being held more securely against him. “Is this about your uncle?” At the beginning, he’d never thought much about the fact that you were related to the previous emperors, but now the fact that he’d basically murdered your uncle in cold blood hung over his head like the sword of Damocles.

“Y/n… I’m sorry.” The words stuck in his craw, but he forced himself to say them anyway. It was a lie, but if it was what you needed to feel better…

Instead of accepting his apology, you made a rude noise. “For what?” you asked.

“For your uncle…?” Confused now, Yoongi cocked his head at you and furrowed his brow.

“Why would you need to apologize? Of course you raised an army to take the throne. It was his fault for leaving potential heirs alive.” The nonchalant way you expressed that sentiment gave him pause. He’d never taken you for someone so cavalier about violence and death. “He did the same thing to my brothers.”

The way your lips tightened as you said it clued him in to the fact that that was what was really bothering you. Of course, your brothers. The two princes that your uncle had had imprisoned and then murdered to secure his rule. When your father had died, your uncle had been declared regent since the crown prince wasn’t old enough to rule, and he’d wasted no time cementing his own authority instead.

“Y/n…” You avoided his gaze, instead reaching for Man-bok. He relinquished the boy to you and you hugged him close, needing to feel your son’s warm, healthy body pressed against you. “I promise you,” he continued, his voice full of conviction. “Nothing will ever happen to our son. Not so long as I live and breathe.” Ducking in, he pressed a tender kiss to the top of Man-bok’s head.

“Really?” The faint hope in your voice made his heart clench. In all the time he’d spent alternately admiring your kindness and cursing your stubborn, know-it-all streak, he’d never seen the vulnerability that you were showing him now. In hindsight, it was silly that he hadn’t realized this earlier, but of course you were scarred from the civil conflict that had been raging. Your family was in the thick of it all, and as much as the men and women involved were royalty, they were also your blood relatives. Really, it was a wonder you’d turned out as normal as you had.

“I swear on my life.” He’d never meant anything as much as he did now.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” Holding Man-bok with one hand, you reached for him with the other, sliding your arm along his shoulder to pull him close for a kiss. It was sweet and tender, a wonderful, perfectly fitting first kiss. His eyes fluttered shut as you drew close, wanting to savour the moment for as long as he could. Your lips were soft and you smelled like roses, just like the perfume he’d given you in secret.

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

It was highly unusual for the emperor to share a bed with his empress. Intimacy was carefully planned based on auspicious dates, and after the deed was done, you both got dressed and went your separate ways. You knew that, and yet you slipped into his room that night, after Man-bok’s 100-day celebration.

You’d gotten mostly undressed after the banquet ended, grateful to be out of your restrictive clothing. Man-bok was sleeping, of course, with his nanny, and you’d dismissed Ling too after she helped you out of the empress robes. Dressed in just your pajamas, you pulled a warm shawl over your shoulders and left your quarters. You just had so much pent-up energy from earlier, and you needed to talk to someone about it.

“Hey,” you said softly, slipping in through the doors just as Sambo was leaving. He gave you a sideways glance, but you ignored it.

“Hey,” Yoongi greeted, smiling at you. He too was in his pajamas, already in bed, the covers pooling around his waist as he sat up. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I just…” You swallowed, feeling a little silly now. This could have waited till tomorrow. “I guess I didn’t want the night to be over,” you confessed. It had been so much fun tonight, getting to meet and talk to everyone. Your sisters and old friends had come to the palace, and Man-bok had been so cute in his little ceremonial robes.

“I get it,” he said. “Come sit.”

You came closer, sliding the shawl off your shoulders, and knelt next to his futon. Illuminated in the soft light of the lamp nearby, the long blonde hair he’d left to tumble over his shoulders seemed to glow softly. Your own hair had been hastily put back in a bun – a lady never left her rooms with her hair down, after all. It was nowhere near as intricate as anything Ling could do for you, but it sufficed.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked with a soft smile.

“You know I did,” you giggled, leaning closer.

“Yes, I saw you having a grand old time with your sisters,” he teased, fondness evident in his voice. Ever since the kiss you’d shared, your relationship had been evolving. Yoongi didn’t know if you would ever forgive him for what he’d done to your family – despite your dismissive attitude towards your uncle – but he was content with this. You letting your guard down around him, seeking him out and enjoying his company… it was more than he’d allowed himself to hope for.

“Oh, I haven’t seen them in over a year,” you enthused. “It was so nice to see them all again! Thank you for inviting them,” you said, more quietly now. “I know it wasn’t an easy decision, inviting the L/n clan tonight.” Despite everything, you knew he was still insecure about his rule.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled at you, then noticed for the first time the soft light glinting off the hairpin you were wearing, the one he’d bought for you. “Oh, you’re wearing the pin! I was right, it does look good on you,” he complimented.

“You— what?” Your voice was shaky, your eyes wide as you reached up to wrap your fingers around the pin, and Yoongi realized that he’d fucked up.

Just to be sure that it was the right one, you pulled it from your hair, causing the long locks to tumble over your shoulders. Brushing it aside impatiently, you inspected the pin. Sure enough, it was the same one that you’d received almost a year ago, and you’d never found out who sent it to you.

“It was you?” The words trembled, fragile in the darkness of the room, barely there, like a wisp of smoke.

“I… yes.” Yoongi was watching you carefully, his hands held out placatingly in front of him.

“But why?” It felt like your mind was shutting down, unable to reconcile this new information. Back when you’d gotten this pin, you could barely stand to be in the same room as your husband. You hadn’t even started being friendly until after Man-bok was born. To know that he hadn’t felt the same way, that he’d been quietly watching you, thinking of you…

“I just wanted to make you smile,” he said honestly with a half shrug.

“Yoongi…” Your voice was choked up, and he was starting to panic now, not quite sure what he’d done wrong. Even if you hadn’t welcomed his advances, he hadn’t overstepped, right? All he’d wanted to do was make you less miserable, and now he was thinking that he would have been better off leaving you alone altogether.

“Is… is that okay?” The words were hesitant, Yoongi ducking slightly to look at your face.

Sniffling, you nodded, swiping at your tears impatiently so you could look at him clearly. In the dim, flickering light, Yoongi’s face was the most beautiful, dear thing you’d ever laid eyes on. Your eyes roamed his face, seeing him as if for the first time. He was so handsome, your husband, your emperor.

“Are you disappointed? Is that why you’re crying?” Worry crinkled Yoongi’s brow. He knew he wasn’t the greatest catch. Throne aside, his hair was a strange colour and the scar running dramatically across his face marred him permanently. He was short and quiet, awkward, caustic… The insecurities came roaring to the forefront.

“No,” you denied, grabbing his hands and bringing them to your chest. You shuffled closer yet, so that your forehead rested against his. “I’m not disappointed at all. Yoongi…” you breathed, your eyes fluttering shut as you brushed your lips across his softly. “Thank you.” For caring about you even when you’d cursed him. For being by your side, even when you hadn’t known it. Just for being him.

Yoongi’s hand slipped from your grasp before reaching up to cup your face, his thumb running across your cheekbone tenderly. “You’re welcome.” He understood what you meant and responded in kind. “You give me more than you know, Y/n.”

The urge to give him more was rising within you. Holding onto his shoulders for balance, you swung one leg over his lap, so that you were straddling him. His hands went to your waist, supporting you and tugging you closer. “Y/n,” he groaned. “What do you want from me?”

Your response was unequivocal. “Everything.”

That was all the permission he needed. Yoongi’s hand travelled up from your waist to the back of your head, bringing you in for a fiery kiss. He poured all of the longing of the past months into it, his lips moving over yours with urgency. Try as you might to keep up, you couldn’t. You’d only had sex with him to conceive before, and it had always been a hasty, dispassionate affair. You didn’t know what to do with your hands or your mouth, your palms resting lightly on his shoulders. You liked this, enjoyed the way his tongue slid against yours, but your body was rigid with uncertainty.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Yoongi broke away from the torrid kiss to ask. His hand on your waist rubbed you soothingly as he leaned back to take a good look at you.

“Uh, yeah, I…” You stammered. “This isn’t like before,” you finally said. All you knew of sex was what he’d shown you before, quick thrusts with his hands holding onto your thighs while you clutched the bedsheets and tried not to let your pain and discomfort show.

It was vague, but Yoongi knew what you meant, and he flushed with shame. “I’m going to make it up to you, okay?” he said, wrapping his arms around you and turning so that you were lowered onto the futon. His forearms bracketed your body, holding his weight up as he lowered his head for another kiss. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he slurred against your lips, one hand reaching for the tie of your shirt.

“Yoongi,” you breathed, your hands sliding around his waist as you held on to his clothes, tugging him closer to you. You felt the hard press of his erection against your belly, and were filled with curiosity. Before, you’d never really wanted to get close to it, and he’d basically just shoved it into you with little fanfare. You’d never even gotten a good look before.

Undoing the ties to his trousers, you slid your hand in, running your fingers hesitantly along his cock.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and you jerked your hand back as if scalded.

“I’m sorry,” you started to apologize, and he backtracked immediately.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he reassured you, nosing at your chin before he trailed kisses down your neck. You sighed and tilted your head, giving him more room.

“Really?” you asked.

“Yes, really,” he said, sucking a little mark right over your collarbone. Emboldened now, you tried again, this time wrapping your hand softly around the shaft. His skin was soft here, and so smooth, but you could feel the steely hardness underneath.

“Ah, you’re so good,” he praised, and you started stroking him lightly, carefully.

“Allow me,” he breathed as he slid his hand down your body, groaning as he found the wetness between your legs. “So perfect for me,” he sighed as he started stroking your clit softly, watching you for your reaction.

You moaned luxuriantly, throwing your head back as your hips rocked. You’d never felt anything like this before, and if this was what sex could be, it was no wonder everyone seemed to like it so much. As you grew distracted with the pleasure suffusing your being, your hand slowed down and then stopped on his erection, but he didn’t mind. Coaxing the sighs and moans from you was more than enough for him.

“I’m going to put my finger in now,” he warned you, and your eyes opened in confusion.

“Why?” you wondered.

“I have to stretch you out, love, so you can take me easily,” he answered, leaning down to kiss you.

“You didn’t before,” you pointed out, and he grimaced.

“Please forget everything I did before,” he groaned, sounding very much like he was in pain. “None of it was right, and I want to show you how much I love you.”

“You—what?” That was new. You hadn’t expected it so soon, if ever.

“Oh, fuck.” He reared back at that and clapped his hands over his mouth in horror. “I didn’t mean to say that! Please ignore it,” he pleaded. Honestly, he wouldn’t blame you if you put your clothes back on and ran out of there right now. What an embarrassing lapse of decorum.

To his surprise, you did none of that, instead wrapping your hands around his wrists and tugging them away from his face. “Did you mean it?”

“Y/n—” he whined, his face hot.

“Yoongi, please,” you said, and the tenderness in your voice gave him courage.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But I don’t expect you to say it back! I know it’s too soon, and you might never feel that way about me, and that’s okay, really, I—”

You cut him off by tugging him close to you and kissing him. “I love you too,” you murmured softly when you separated.

“Really?” His voice was small, and you smiled as you nodded.

“Fuck, I’m going to make it all better,” he swore, his voice deepening into a growl towards the end. With a renewed sense of purpose, he pushed you back into the futon. His hands were everywhere as they stripped you of your clothing, and you felt a little exposed lying there bare for him to see. You were more than aware that your body hadn’t quite bounced back from pregnancy, and he’d never seen you completely nude anyway.

The sheer reverence reflected in his gaze did much to boost your confidence, though. “You’re so gorgeous,” he rasped, bending to tug a nipple into his mouth. You cried out, your back arching as he laved at it, his hand returning to its previous mission of getting you ready to take him. His thumb rolled over your clit gently as he slid his fingers into you, first one, then two, pumping slowly to loosen you up. The wet, lewd sound soon echoed through the room.

“Yoongi,” you breathed to get his attention, pushing his shirt over his shoulders. The tie had already come undone and the front was hanging rather uselessly by his sides, and it wasn’t difficult to remove it. Yoongi got the message, though, stripping himself off with far less fanfare than he’d done for you before coming back with a vengeance, as if the seconds he’d spent away from your body were too much to bear.

“Yoongi, c’mon,” you begged inarticulately, pulling his body down to yours by wrapping your arms and legs around him.

“Stop it,” he admonished. “I’m going to get you nice and ready for me. You have to be patient.” But you could see the way his jaw clenched.

“Yoongi, I want you to fuck me,” you whined, writhing on the mattress.

That certainly got his attention, and he looked back up at your face, seeing the expression of wild abandon painted across your features. Your eyes were shut and your mouth open as you lost yourself to the pleasure he was giving you, long hair spread across his pillow.

“You ruin me,” he accused as he withdrew his hand, using the slick coating his fingers to lube up his cock before he positioned it at your entrance. You moaned and arched, tightening your legs around him to draw him in deeper.

Before, when he’d done this, it had hurt. You’d been dry and he hadn’t put any effort into preparing you or making it a pleasurable experience for you, and you tensed up, remembering how unpleasant the experience had been before. You wanted to make him feel good, though, because he’d done the same for you, and it was that which motivated you to urge him into your body.

When he slid in, inch by glorious inch, contrary to your expectations you didn’t feel pain. No, there was a stretch, but it was intensely pleasurable, and you writhed against him. “Ah, Yoongi, it feels so good,” you gasped.

“Yeah?” he said, sucking marks into your neck. “You like that?” When he finally bottomed out, he rested his forehead against yours, panting as he tried to retain some control.

“Yes, Yoongi,” you moaned, wriggling and clenching down on him, desperate for more.

“Fuck, don’t move,” he gasped, his eyes wide as he clutched your hip. “I want to make this good for you.”

“It is good,” you insisted, ignoring his instructions.

“Y/n, you don’t even know,” he groaned, bracing himself as he started to move his hips. He was gentle at first, making sure that it didn’t hurt, but you were impatient, whining that you wanted more, and before he knew it, he was really going at it, one arm hooked around your leg to hold you open for him.

“Yoongi, yes, yes,” you exulted, thrilled. The expression on his face, his brow furrowed tightly, was endlessly exciting for you, and you loved the motion of his jaw as he clenched hard, focusing on pleasing you.

Adjusting his position, he started thrusting again, this time skidding against your g-spot with every thrust. To really seal the deal, he reached down to rub at your clit with his fingers, drinking your every sound and movement up eagerly. You raked your nails down his back as your legs tightened around him, clenching down on him hard as you came.

Faced with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him rhythmically, he couldn’t hold it together much longer, pressing his forehead into your neck as he reached his own orgasm, groaning as his hips stuttered sporadically.

When it was over, he slumped down over you, barely remembering to tilt his body at the last second so that he slid off you and onto the futon. “I love you,” he gasped, throwing one sweaty arm over your chest to drag you closer to him so he could press kisses over your face. “I love you so much.”

Smiling, you turned your head, rubbing your nose against his affectionately. “I love you too, Your Grace.” The teasing lilt in your voice as you called him that warmed his heart. Before he could say much more, however, you yawned and turned, slinging your arm around his waist. “Good night,” you murmured, burying your face in his chest.

“Good night.” He rested his hand on the back of your head. His empress, his wife. His love.

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

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[unrestedjade]

Baseless Ferengi headcanons no one asked for and that get increasingly queer-navel-gazing and self indulgent because the horrible space goblins have consumed my brain:

- Mobile ears, because if hearing is so well developed and important to them they should be able to aim those big stupid radar dishes. Also because then they can emote with them and that's cute. THE AESTHETIC IS PARAMOUNT.

- Since they canonically sharpen their teeth with chew sticks and sharpeners, their teeth must grow continuously. So I submit: subcultures that let certain teeth grow out as a fashion/political statement. Ferengi punks and anarchists with 5" tusks. Ferengi with all their teeth filed flat (mom and dad HATE it).

- Corollary to the above, most of their teeth are crooked. At the least, they don't share our fetish for straight teeth. What if their teeth are deciduous, and there's no point in trying to force them into perfect alignment, since they'll just fall out and get replaced? So like, sharks but their teeth can also grow longer with no limit. WHAT HAST EVOLUTION WROUGHT ON FERENGINAR :V

- Parents nagging their kids to sharpen their teeth "or they'll grow up into your brain and you'll die :)"

- Personal space? Don't know her.

Okay I need a cut because there's too many now. WHOLE SOCIETY OF GAY HOMOPHOBIC UNCLES AND AUNTS GO I HAVE A PROBLEM

- I can't remember who on here put forth the idea of them having retractable claws but Yes. :3

- Pushing back against the worst canon episode a bit but: relative ear size being the only obvious sexually dimorphic trait, and even that having enough of a gray area that the only way to be 100% sure you're talking to a male or female Ferengi is if you do a blood test. Unless they're intersex! *shrug emoji*

- This is why they're so fanatical about gender conformity and their Victorian "separate spheres" attitude to men and women's roles. Capitalist patriarchy is fragile! And as artificial to Ferengi as it ever was to Humans! (self-indulgenceeeee about gender shiiiiit)

- You know how with domesticated rabbits, the rabbit getting groomed and paid attention to is the boss? Yeah. Go ahead and paint your bestie's nails, just don't be surprised if she cops a little bit of an attitude with you from then on.

- Their fight/flight/freeze/fawn instincts skew heavily toward the last three, and what a lot of other species read as annoying sucking up is the Ferengi in question feeling anxious and unsafe. Especially if they don't feel integrated into the group. Even being at the bottom of the pecking order is better than not being in the flock at all.

- If they DO opt for fight, it's ugly and typically their last resort. Bites or scratches will get infected without intervention-- microbes that their immune system can handle could cause big trouble for aliens. You might wanna check for full or partial teeth that break off and get lodged in the wound, too.

- Too many of these are tooth related but I don't care. :B More teeth stuff: you know what else has teeth that grow constantly? Puffer fish. Likewise, Ferengi can chew up mollusk shells as easy as potato chips, and they need the minerals for their teeth. (Imagine grandpa Sisko offering Nog a crayfish for the first time and watching as he just...pops the whole damn thing in his mouth and crunches away...)

- Their staple foods seem to be grubs and other arthropods, high in protein and fat. I've unilaterally decided their cuisine also involves a lot of edible fungi, ferns, plant shoots and seeds. Gotta get those vitamins. Overall flavor profile leaning toward umami, vegetal, and fresh herbs, and pretty mild (or "delicate" if you wanna be snooty about it, which a Ferengi probably would let's be real).

- Not much sugary food. I'm basing this solely on Quark's aversion to root beer as "cloying". Which could definitely just be his personal preference, but most of the people I hear hating on root beer cite the actual sassafras/sarsaparilla flavor (saying it tastes like medicine) not the sweetness. Nog might be the weirdo outlier for being able to enjoy it.

- Their home planet isn't bright and sunny, so their eyes are better at discerning shades of gray in low light conditions, with relatively weak color vision. Which could explain why they dress Like That.

- Conversely, human music has a reputation for stinking on ice because a lot of it is juuuuust lightly dissonant or out of tune because we can't pick up flaws that small. Ferengi can, and it drives them up the *wall*.

- Music? So many different kinds. Traditionally, maybe lots of percussion and winds, and water as a common component of many instruments to alter pitch or tone. Polyphony out the ass. Some of the modern stuff is an impenetrable wall of sound if you're not a species with a lot of brain real estate devoted to processing sounds. Pick out one melody to follow at a time.

- Yes, back to teeth again I'm sorry. It's a sickness. At some point in their history, pre-chewing food was just something you did for your baby or great grandma as a matter of necessity. Possibly your baby gets an important boost to their immune system and gut biome from your spit. At some point takes on a more formal intimacy aspect and gradually drifted from something all adults and older kids do to something only women do. Your husband and older kids have perfectly functional teeth, but you love them, right? =_= (Think old memes about husbands being useless in the kitchen if little wifey isn't there to cook, but even more ridiculous. Ishka was right about everything but especially this. Thank you for making your family chew their own food, Ishka. Not all heroes wear capes. Or anything!)

- How did they get started on the whole men: clothed vs women: unclothed nonsense? My equally stupid idea: men just get cold easier. Those huge ears dissipate a ton of body heat. Cue Ferengi cliches like "jeez, we could be standing on the surface of the sun and my husband would put on another layer." At some point, again, this got codified and pushed to ridiculous extremes in the name of controlling women and keeping everyone in their assigned box, to the point that women just have to shiver if they really are too cold and men have to pass out from heat stroke if the alternative is going shirtless, because That Would Be Inappropriate.

- Marriages default to five years, but they're also the only avenue for women to have their own household or any stability. Plus their religion places no emphasis on purity save for pure adherence to the free market and the RoA. So, curveball to the rest of their patriarchal bullshit: female virginity isn't a concern in the least. Bring it up and they'll rightly side-eye you.

- Family law is absolutely bonkers and lawyers that specialize in it make BANK. I feel like custody would default to the father usually but oh wait, the maternal grandfather has a legal stake in this, too, and your next father-in-law is asking HOW many kids are you dragging into my daughter's house, etc etc. Growing up with a full sibling is way rarer than growing up with half or stepsiblings, since it usually takes both men and women two or three tries to find someone they vibe with. (Not love, unless you're super cringe.)

- A misogynistic society is a homophobic society. Imo those flavors of shittiness just come in pairs. Homosexual behaviors are fine within certain parameters (aka "always have sex with the boss") but not on your own terms. To add spice, bisexuality is their most common mode (because I'm bi and these are my hcs for my fics I'm not writing, so there), but capitalism demands fresh grist for the mill so you better get het-married and pop out some kids you lowly peons. You have a choice so make the proper one. :)

- Corollary to the above, that doesn't keep all kinds of illicit "we're just friends with quid-pro-quo benefits for realsies" affairs of every stripe and every gender from going on everywhere. Many Ferengi have a lightbulb moment somewhere in early adulthood when they figure out their dad's business partner or the "auntie" who visited their mom every month had a little more going on.

- Plus there's way more gender non-conformity and varying degrees of trans-ing than the powers that be have a handle on. Pel isn't unique, even if most would have to somehow make it out into space to be able to thrive.

Damn a lot of these are just my personal bugbears plus THE GILDED AGE BUT WITH HAIRLESS SPACE RODENTS ain't they

- Women can't earn profit, okay. But lending or "lending" things to each other isn't commerce, riiiiiiight? To be assigned female is to master navigating a vast, dizzying barter/gift economy. Smart boys and men leverage this, too, and there are splinter sects that view this as the purest expression of the Great Material Continuum.

- Of course plenty of women make profit anyway, and just do their bast to dodge the FCA. The tough thing about insisting on using latinum as currency is that cash can be so hard to track, you know?

- Because of the RoA, guys are discouraged from doing favors or giving gifts without setting clear expectation of getting some return on investment. This can twist into an expression of friendship (and of course women do it too), and the ledger will keep cycling between debit and credit among friends for decades. A common mistake aliens make is to tell them recompense isn't needed without explaining why, or return their favor or present with something that zeroes out the debt. The Ferengi will assume you want to break off the friendship. (I cribbed this from dim memories of an African studies course I took in 2007 and whose textbook I know I still have but I can't frigging find it...)

- Flirting, they do a lot of it for a lot of reasons. Roddenberry made it clear that they're just straight up pretty horny, but there's no reason it can't pull double duty for building alliances with other people, smoothing over feuds or disagreements, or cementing friendships. Ferengi who are ace and/or sex-repulsed are possibly viewed similar to the way we'd view someone who's "not a hugger/not big on touching" and if they flirt just don't get offended if it doesn't go any further; aro Ferengi don't garner much comment aside from an occasional "wow how badass, never falling in love with anyone."

- where to even start on making sense of the Blessed Exchequer??? Like seriously, what is this literal prosperity gospel insanity, I need to force myself to re-read Rand and like, some Milton Friedman for this shit. Help.

- fuck I'm probably going to actually do that, RIP me...

#ds9 #star trek #meta #ferengi #i love them Too Much help #reliving my brief libertarian phase from high school from the opposite direction #my heart wants to make them simultaneously as queer and as repressed as possible #i didn't even make it to the goddamned blessed exchequer my head is too full #i will find beauty in this vulgarity if it kills me #this is too long #why did i spend my time this way