#‘even if it’s just reading something contemporary and knowing it will last’

[wonder-worker]

(Dominic Mancini) believed that Edward IV had designated his brother Gloucester as Protector – a statement – a statement which he first introduces with a cautious ‘as they say’, but which then becomes the cornerstone of his argument. In the absence of formal evidence, this claim cannot be checked, but it has always been recognized that the choice of Gloucester to head the government was an obvious possibility for the dying king. If Edward wanted a protector, the duke was, indeed, the inevitable candidate. Gloucester’s position as sole surviving brother of the king, coupled with his outstanding record of service to the crown, would have made it impossible to pass him over, even in a society aware of the dangers which guardianship by a paternal uncle posed to the interests of the heir. But Mancini does not leave the story there. He claims that the council chose to ignore Edward’s wishes, preferring the immediate coronation of the young king to a formal minority. This decision was prompted by fears that a protector might usurp the throne, although Mancini adds that it was supported by the queen’s family, who wanted to prevent power passing to Gloucester. Having carried this initial point, the Woodvilles then proceeded to dig in militarily and financially. The picture is thus one of overt factions, with the Woodvilles manipulating the majority of the council against Gloucester and a small group of councillors who supported the idea of a Protectorate – an element usually identified with the dead king’s friend and chamberlain William Hastings.

…Mancini’s account, for all its overt criticism of the duke, may be based on a version of events originating in the circle around Gloucester. It casts the Woodvilles as the aggressors and Gloucester as the victim of circumstance. [According to this interpretation], the duke was virtually forced into some sort of counter-offensive to protect his own interests, and his seizure of Edward [V] at the end of April could even be justified, although Mancini does not say so, as a return to Edward’s original wishes.

This raises the interesting possibility that Mancini’s insistence that Edward IV wanted his brother to be protector also derives from a version of events put forth by the duke after he had seized the prince and was seeking recognition as protector. Certainly one of the shakiest parts of Mancini’s account is his attempt to explain why, if Edward wanted a protector, the council sought to overturn his wishes. His suggestion that the council feared an usurpation displays the hindsight to be expected from someone writing after June 1483, when Gloucester had indeed used the protectorship as a stepping-stone to the throne. It is difficult to believe that anyone in April seriously feared that Gloucester had designs on the crown. The duke had a record of close cooperation with the Yorkist establishment, something at least as important in the context of 1483 as his much-emphasized loyalty to his brother. He was not an alien, northern magnate from whom anything might be expected, but a key figure in the reconstructed royal authority which now needed to be preserved for the young king.

This weakness in Mancini’s argument has, however, gone unremarked, largely because most commentators have chosen to emphasize Mancini’s second point and argue that the real reason for what happened was Woodville hostility to Gloucester. Mancini himself is clear that there was a long-standing rivalry between the duke and the queen’s family, and this has been accepted by almost every subsequent writer. A clash of interest was therefor inevitable once Gloucester had been chosen protector. But Mancini is here guilty of reading back into Edward IV’s reign the tensions which he observed after the king’s death. There is no contemporary evidence of hostility earlier than the end of April 1483. Although the personal attitudes of the protagonists are unknown, it is clear that their working relationship was one of co-operation.

This does not prelude the possibility that the Woodvilles turned against their former ally and in 1483 and cynically excluded Gloucester from the Protectorship in order to seize more power for themselves. But this would make nonsense of the events at the end of April, when Gloucester was able to seize possession of the (king) from an unsuspecting earl Rivers. The earl, who had apparently dispersed his men before meeting the duke, clearly expected no trouble from Gloucester – confidence which would be incredible if Gloucester had just been the victim of a Woodville coup.

Doubts about Mancini’s version are reinforced when it is compared with the account produced early in 1469 by the anonymous continuator of the Croyland Chronicle. The author was councillor of Edward IV and is in general a far more reliable source than Mancini. His facts (although not always his glosses) cannot be faulted, and he was ideally placed to give the definite account of events after Edward’s death. Although he evidently knew what the king had planned, he nowhere states it explicitly, and his silence has left the field to Mancini’s version. But this very silence casts doubt on Mancini’s central point that the council actually voted down the king’s expressed wishes. As a councillor himself, the author would have surely drawn attention to such a reversal. Instead he allows it to be assumed that the council’s plans for the coronation were in line with the king’s sagax disposito as embodied in the codils of his will. This makes it unlikely that Edward sought a protectorate. The implication instead seems to be that Edward’s ‘wise ordering’ did not envisage a formal protectorate at all, but entailed the immediate succession of his heir for which there was precedent in 1377, when the eleven-year-old Richard II had succeeded his grandfather. This is perhaps also implied by the chronicler’s comment that all the councillors were ‘fully desired the prince to succeed his father in all his glory’.

-Rosemary Horrox, "Richard III: A Study of Service"

*I just want to add that in 1475, when his son was only four years old, Edward IV's extant will did not desire a Protectorate (or regency, or lieutenancy); instead, he named his son 'Keeper of the Realm', placed him under the protection and control of the Queen, and appointed a Great Council to administer the realm. That should be kept in mind when discussing his potentially modified 1483 will, made when his son was twelve.

Simply put: Edward IV's 1483 will has not survived, we do not know what it says, we don't know what his codicils were or if they were even relevant to his son's minority (it could have been related to his children's marriages, for example). The Croyland Continuator mentions that he added codicils yet never claims or emphasizes that he appointed anyone Protector, and strongly implied that moat of his 1475 will remained at full force. We can speculate, but we cannot state anything for certain, and insistent claims to the contrary (almost always to Richard III's benefit and Elizabeth Woodville's denigration) must necessarily be viewed as biased and shallow. Saying that Edward IV could have potentially named his brother Lord Protector is very different from looking at contemporary accounts and evidence to judge whether he actually did - which we ultimately don't know and won't know unless we find the actual will or another contemporary source. Nor does it actually matter on a practical level because neither his council nor his queen were obligated to follow his wishes, which in turn makes Mancini's insistence on the contrary (ie: claiming Rixhard was 'entitled' to the position as per law and his brother's alleged order, which is distinctly untrue: Richard was not entitled to anything on the basis of either of those things) all the more suspect and reinforces Horrox's point about him potentially being influenced by propaganda. I'm just putting this here for the sake of the argument.

#r*chard iii #edward iv #wars of the roses #read it again: ALL the councilors wanted Edward V to succeed his father and be crowned immediately. Even after the Woodvilles were out #of the way they wanted the young king's coronation to happen 'without fail'. #You'd think someone like Hastings (who seems to have disliked the Woodvilles) would argue in favor of a Protectorate - but as per Croyland #he didn't. Nobody did. #It's *Mancini's* account which presents a debate in the council between an immediate coronation and a Protectorate #*Croyland* on the other hand is clear that EVERYONE wanted the young king to be crowned as soon as possible. #What Mancini presents as an argument in the council is what Croyland presents as its unifying factor #Croyland also speaks of Edward IV's will and his deathbed moments as well and nowhere does he mention him appointing a Protector #In 1475 Edward appointed a council of 20 to govern the realm and placed the Keeper under the protection and custody of the Queen #He didn't want a Protector when his son was FOUR. Why would he suddenly want one when his son was TWELVE? #When the only precedent of a Protector during a minority (Humphrey and Henry VI) ended when the king in question was SEVEN? #Moreover Mancini's account IS rather suspect #His notion that Richard's potential appointment to Protector was something he was 'entitled to by law and his brother’s ordinance' #is blatantly wrong. Richard was not 'entitled' to the position by either of those things (and there was no such extant law) #So one wonders where exactly Mancini got the idea from? He himself says 'men say' which may indicate gossip - but even more strongly #indicates propaganda put forth by Richard as A.J Pollard has also suggested #Considering Mancini's account doesn't just speak of Edward giving Richard the position but also the queen denying it to him #Which like Horrox said presents the Woodvilles as the aggressors and Richard as a victim merely defending himself #And believes that Richard was *entitled* to the position ((thus casting the Woodvilles as the wrongdoers) when he certainly wasn't #again: we can't know what exactly Edward wanted unless we find his last will or a well-informed contemporary source #And it doesn't practically matter because neither his council nor his queen were socially or legally obligated to follow his wishes #I'm just putting this here for the sake of the argument

[foone]

Look if there's one thing, just one thing, that I wish everyone understood about archiving, it's this:

We can always decide later that we don't need something we archived.

Like, if we archive a website that's full of THE WORST STUFF, like it turns out it's borderline illegal bot-made spam art, we can delete it. Gone.

We can also chose not to curate. You can make a list of the 100 Best Fanfic and just quietly not link to or mention the 20,000 RPFs of bigoted youtubers eating each other. No problem!

We can also make things not publicly available. This happens surprisingly often: like, sometimes there'll be a YouTube channel of alt-right bigotry that gets taken down by YouTube, but someone gives a copy to the internet archive, and they don't make it publicly available. Because it might be useful for researchers, and eventually historians, it's kept. But putting it online for everyone to see? That's just be propaganda for their bigotry. So it's hidden, for now. You can ask to see it, but you need a reason.

And we can say all these things, we can chose to delete it later, we can not curate it, we can hide it from public view... But we only have these options BECAUSE we archived it.

If we didn't archive it, we have no options. It is gone. I'm focusing on the negative here, but think about the positive side:

What if it turns out something we thought was junk turns out to be amazing new art?

What if something we thought of as pointless and not worth curating turns out to be influential?

What if something turns out to be of vital historical importance, the key that is used to solve a great mystery, the Rosetta stone for an era?

All of those things are great... If we archived it when we could.

Because this is an asymmetric problem:

If we archived it and it turns out it's not useful, we can delete.

If we didn't archive it and it turns out it is useful, OOPS!

You can't unlose something that's been lost. It's gone. This is a one way trip, it's already fallen off the cliff. Your only hope is that you're wrong about it being lost, and there is actually still a copy somewhere. If it's truly lost, your only option is to build a time machine.

And this has happened! There are things lost, so many of them that we know of, and many more we don't know of. There are BOOKS OF THE BIBLE referenced in the canon that simply do not exist anymore. Like, Paul says to go read his letter to the Laodiceans, and what did that letter say? We don't know. It's gone.

The most celebrated playwright in the English tradition has plays that are just gone. You want to perform or watch Love's Labours Won? TOO FUCKING BAD.

Want to watch Lon Cheyney's London After Midnight, a mystery-horror silent film from 1927? TOO BAD. The MGM vault burnt down in 1965 and the last known copy went up in smoke.

If something still exists, if it still is kept somewhere, there is always an opportunity to decide if it's worthy of being remembered. It can still be recognized for its merits, for its impact, for its importance, or just what it says about the time and culture and people who made it, and what they believed and thought and did. It can still be a useful part of history, even if we decide it's a horrible thing, a bigoted mess, a terrible piece of art. We have the opportunity to do all that.

If it's lost... We are out of options. All we can do is research it from how it affected other things. There's a lot of great books and plays and films and shows that we only know of because other contemporary sources talked about them so much. We're trying to figure out what it was and what it did, from tracing the shadow it cast on the rest of culture.

This is why archivists get anxious whenever people say "this thing is bad and should not be preserved". Because, yeah, maybe they're right. Maybe we'll look back and decide "yeah, that is worthless and we shouldn't waste the hard drive or warehouse space on it".

But if they're wrong, and we listen to them, and don't archive... We don't get a second chance at this. And archivists have been bitten too many times by talk of "we don't need copies, the original studio has the masters!" (it burnt down), or "this isn't worth preserving, it's just some damn silly fad" (the fad turned out to be the first steps of a cultural revolution), or "this media is degenerate/illegal/immoral" (it turns out those saying that were bigots and history doesn't agree with their assessment).

So we archive what we can. We can always decide later if it doesn't need preserving. And being a responsible archivist often means preserving things but not making them publicly available, or being selective in what you archive (I back up a lot of old computer hard drives. Often they have personal photos and emails and banking information! That doesn't get saved).

But it's not really a good idea to be making quality or moral judgements of what you archive. Because maybe you're right, maybe a decade or two later you'll decide this didn't need to be saved. And you'll have the freedom to make that choice. But if you didn't archive it, and decide a decade later you were wrong... It's just gone now. You failed.

Because at the end of the day I'd rather look at an archive and see it includes 10,000 things I think are worthless trash, than look at an archive of on the "best things" and know that there are some things that simply cannot be included. Maybe they were better, but can't be considered as one of the best... Because they're just gone. No one has read them, no one has been able to read them.

We have a long history of losing things. The least we can do going forward is to try and avoid losing more. And leave it up to history to decide if what we saved was worth it.

My dream is for a future where critics can look at stuff made in the present and go "all of this was shit. Useless, badly made, bigoted, horrible. Don't waste your time on it!"

Because that's infinitely better than the future where all they can do is go "we don't know of this was any good... It was probably important? We just don't know. It's gone. And it's never coming back"

#Archivist ranting

[sunderwight]

Okay, concept:

Luo Binghe grew up very poor prior to arriving to QJP. And when he first got to QJP, he was ostracized and neglected. So there are probably a lot of phrases, terms, and ideas that he didn't know were things until SY arrived and started actually teaching him. Right? So the bulk of what he did learn, he learned directly from Shen Yuan's own slightly messy attempts to fake ancient scholarly credentials.

Plus, QJP is supposed to be the peak of scholars and well-read, fancy intellectuals, and YQY probably also doesn't know shit about most of that stuff (having also been a former illiterate street child) and of course is incredibly predisposed to take Shen Qingqiu's side on virtually anything. Especially something frivolous or linked to their shared past, such as someone, say Qi Qingqi, accusing Shen Qingqiu of making up a literary reference or "gibberish" word. If something Shen Qingqiu says is something no one else seems to know, that just proves he's more worldly and well-read than the rest of his peers. Also, Shang Qinghua will probably know it, and despite his many (many) character flaws, Shang Qinghua reads a lot too. There's really very little to convince a former street child turned Demon Emperor whose former education began and ended with Shen Qingqiu specifically and Meng Mo (wildly out-of-touch with human culture anyway) to suspect that some of the difficult-to-source references his master makes really have no worldly source (in this world).

So Luo Binghe, in his quest to become as knowledgeable of all things about his shizun and keep up with him as well as possible, and maybe also put down some arguments he's overheard once and for all, eventually gets annoyed because CLEARLY there is a wealth of cultural knowledge contemporary to Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua that didn't survive to his own generation. His efforts at hunting down all the sources being referenced and origins of certain philosophical ideas or terminology keep coming up empty in certain departments. He's been over the entire QJP library with a fine-tooth comb, but QJP focuses on things pertaining to cultivation, history, and knowledge. Obviously, there are gaps. The archives are unlikely to keep pop cultural references and lowbrow literature, and Luo Binghe begins to suspect (from what tastes his master seems to share with his shishu) that that is that actual source he's missing.

The trashy yellow books and romance literature of their generation! Bawdy poems and lewd artworks so on! Heck, that's probably even where the shared "code" (bad English) comes into play -- disciples are always trying to sneak forbidden material past their teachers and smuggle naughty books into the dormitories. Knowing Shizun and Shang Qinghua, Luo Binghe honestly wouldn't be surprised if the two of them were racketeering that shit in their own disciple days. Shang Qinghua acquiring materials, Shen Qingqiu acquiring buyers, both of them making their extra spending money off of secretly supplying Cang Qiong's population with contraband fiction and art.

Also, that would explain why both Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua get flustered and refuse to elaborate if someone asks them what this or that strange turn of phrase refers to. Shen Qingqiu has a very thin face for actually discussing erotica, and Shang Qinghua doesn't like being caught doing illegal shit.

Luo Binghe desperately needs access to trash lit that's older than he is. However, most of that stuff is not printed to last, and turning it up is like trying to find old Spirk zines without the internet.

Shang Qinghua, the obvious go-to source, also seems to not really have anything that old anymore (intimidating him is laughably easy, if he had anything he would have coughed it up by the second or third time Luo Binghe asked and frowned at the same time), and if Shen Qingqiu did have anything he wouldn't want to be questioned about it. Asking too much might even get it destroyed in an act of excessive embarrassment.

Which means there is just one other person Luo Binghe knows who might be able to lead him to some sources. One other person he is absolutely, 100% certain was extensively reading trashy literature around the same time that Shizun was a young man. Someone who would know where to go to even begin looking for it.

Luo Binghe is going to have to ask Tianlang Jun for help with something.

#svsss #bingqiu #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain

[what-even-is-thiss]

Tips from a former English major and English TA:

Reading the text actually does help you in the class believe it or not and we can tell when you haven’t read it. Sometimes we’re just too tired to call you out on it. Your awkward silence in class speaks volumes.

That being said, if you don’t have time because life happens read at least two different summaries or analysis pages online. Preferably more. One source will rarely mention everything your teacher asks you about.

Other tricks include reading the last sentence of every paragraph or reading every other page

The reason you’re being forced to take an English class when you’re not an English major is to help you come up with arguments when there’s no strict data set to follow and no one correct answer. If your school allows for alternatives to this sort of category like film analysis or art history that you think you’d like better, take it. The goal of GE classes is to turn you into a well rounded and educated person. Not to torture you.

If you’re reading works in translation and don’t want to take the time to learn the language but you also want to get a more accurate idea of the nuances of the original language, read three different translations of the work and compare them. Reading translators notes and reviews of translations by experts is also helpful. In some more rarely translated works translators notes and reviews may be all you have to work off of.

When you’re writing a literary essay you’re entering an ongoing conversation that’s been going on since writing has existed. A tradition that’s existed since before Aristotle. And you’re just as smart as that guy. Add something to the conversation. Participate. Bigger idiots than you have done it.

Chat gbt is really bad at literary analysis and often gets facts wrong. We can tell when you use it.

Everyone has different levels of understanding of the history of literature even within the professional world. People specialize for a reason. Nobody is expecting you to have read everything. An expert in medieval Irish literature isn’t going to have read the same things as an expert in post-colonial west African literature who won’t have read the same things as a general expert in contemporary Asian literature. Being “well-read” is subjective and means something different to everyone. English classes often show you where to start and how to research stuff related to literature and analysis. Especially if you are an English major it’s easy to get overwhelmed early on but you get used to accepting that you can’t know everything. And that’s fine. Just focus on finding your niche. Or maybe you don’t have one and just want to sample everything. Or maybe you’re just here for general knowledge. That’s fine too.

[angelplummie]

thinking about stepdad armin……

cw: stepcest, age gap, contemplating cheating, sexual imagery, horniness

masterlist part 2

｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+*ﾟ

you think you’re home alone. or rather, you thought you were home alone. because now you’re completely naked in the hall of your childhood home, staring into baby blue eyes. they’re blown wide open as he looks down and then right back up. pink erupts under his skin and he opens his mouth to speak, but you don’t let him. wet hair leaving water stains on the carpet, you run back into the bathroom and slam the door closed.

great. you just got home from summer vacation at your uni yesterday, and now it’s going to be awkward for the rest of the two months. you really really thought you were home alone, you thought they were at work. but you’d done it now. blood burnt your cheeks and embarrassment broiled in your stomach.

you did have to admit, your mum’s boyfriend was handsome, you’d thought so ever since you met a year ago. he looked a lot younger than he was, but the maturity with which he carried himself gave him away. he was always put together, refined. he wore silver rings on his slender fingers that you could never keep your eyes away from. he wore timeless clothes that screamed a contemporary elegance. he was always warm and kind and seemed to really want to get to know you. even if it was nothing more than a gesture to your mother, you appreciated it. he would always remember things you had told him in your last visit, always knew the right thing to say. he was so much better than boys your age, so much more real, more developed and solidified. he made you feel safe, made you want to please him. maybe it was because he was just ten years older than you, as he was considerably younger than your mother, you had always felt a certain connection to him. their relationship seemed to have progressed so fast, and you tried to suppress your jealousy, tried to make yourself forget it was ever there. but it was. and now you were even more embarrassed.

but aside from embarrassment, you couldn’t help the throb of your clit, the heavy wet feeling between your pussy lips. he had seen you, all of you. what was he thinking right now? you’re a pretty girl with a pretty body, he can’t be neutral to you right? you had wondered if he thought you were pretty, if he was attracted to you. if really deep down he wanted you. sometimes hugs would be tight and you would hear him inhale in your hair, looks would linger. he touched you unnecessarily, on the knee, on the shoulder, kisses on cheeks. he would take you out to eat, just one on one. your mother loved it, thought it was so sweet of him to make the effort. it made you squirm inside. maybe he was just friendly, maybe you were a crazy little girl, impassioned by the slightest attention.

but maybe he wanted you as much as you wanted him. maybe he wanted you more.

you imagined him on the other side of the door still red faced and flustered, hard in his pants. you imagined it straining against his jeans, his boxers. you imagined him taking it out and you imagined the tip dribbling precum. you pussy spasmed at the thought, the very idea that he wants you.

but now you needed to think rationally, you need to be a big girl. what would someone that didn’t want to fuck their new stepdad do?

you grab a towel, rush back into your room. creaking from around the house told you he was still home, probably feeling too embarrassed to approach you about things. you quickly dry off and get dressed before shooting armin a text that reads:

hi i’m really really sorry about that!! i thought i was home alone but still i should’ve been more cautious. i hope i didn’t mentally scar you 😭

perfect, you thought. it was friendly and normal and completely denied the idea that you thought about him thinking about you in any other way than paternally. which you hoped he did, in a yucky wrong sort of way. you hoped he did view you as something to protect, something that was his in some way. you wish the guilt and repulsion of this realisation made it go away, but it didn’t.

luckily for you, armin was in shambles in the exact way you wanted him to be. after pacing his bedroom for five minutes and he waited for you to leave the bathroom, he had gone downstairs to busy himself with cooking something. as an apology maybe, but mainly to take his mind off what he was never supposed to think about. what he couldn’t get out of his head.

before, it was a benign attraction. a want, not a need. he saw you, watched you. you’re a beautiful girl, it doesn’t make him a pervert to see that. and you’re such a sweet girl, such a good daughter. you were always giggly with him, always receptive. you made him want to be sweet and kind and warm, made him want to take care of you, whether you need it or not. so what if when he got the chance he was a little affectionate? aren’t all good father figures? bear hugs and reassuring squeezes, kisses on cheeks, that’s nothing! he loves your mother, she has her charms in her own little way.

but he would be lying if he hadn’t thought about it, the big it he couldn’t get over. he thought about what you would feel like, what those ever-glossed lips would feel like pressing against his skin. wrapped around his cock. he imagined those big doe eyes watering for him, choking on his cock, or, an even more dangerous thought, whimpering at the stretch in your tight young pussy. the thought of you and your insides plagued him, but he had managed to convince himself it was nothing. that he loved your mother really, and maybe it more of a compliment to her, since you look so alike.

but now, that has all gone out of the window.

how couldn’t it? now that he knew, knew with 100% certainty that your body was just as he had imagined, what could he do? cock aching with want, he sighed for the tenth time in 20 minutes and distractedly chopped potatoes. now he knew your tits were just as jiggly as he imagined, knew how soft you really were, knew you didn’t shave. he knew how sweet your little bush looked, so natural and untouched. he wondered if you’d ever been touched by a man before, but he shook the idea from his head.

he was a bad, bad man. but that didn’t mean he could stop these thoughts.

armin hears his phone ping on the kitchen counter, and takes it in shaking hands. he reads your message, stepping away from the cutting board and rubbing his forehead. what a sweet girl, he thinks. before he can stop thinking, he thinks more. what it would be like to bend your soft body to his will, to feel the undoubtably tight grip of your wet hole. would you still be his sweet girl then? he replies:

no worries at all, i should have made my presence known xx

he sends it with an eleventh sigh, and distractedly returns to his cooking.

in your bedroom, your heart pounds as you see the notification of his text.

oh.

why are you disappointed?

no really, why?

he was sweet and generous and lovely as usual, what were you disappointed about?

a dark cloud forms in your belly, and you know why. it’s because he didn’t reply to the last part of your message. the part you wanted him to reply to the very most. you wanted him to, at the very least, reply to it, acknowledge the absurdity of him being scarred by a body like yours. it’s self deprecating, it demands a rebuttal.

you react with a heart to his message and turn off your phone with a sigh.

maybe he really doesn’t want you, maybe it has been all in your head. it’s a possibility, you suppose. how awful are you, thinking about your mothers boyfriend like this? you’re terrible, a horrible girl. she’s happy. shes happy with him, and after everything with your father, that’s what you want for her.

that was it then. you really would never have him. that was it. forget about it. now.

but he isn’t forgetting about, not at all. he’s still staring at where you liked the message, allowing the water he was boiling to spill over before he turns down the heat. he can’t forget now. how is he doing to cope? two months of you, how was he going to keep this under wraps? even now, he feels tense knowing you’re upstairs, in nothing more than a towel. he knows the smell of your body wash, your conditioner, he knows exactly what your skin would taste like. he knows what your nipples look like, can imagine how it would feel to squeeze your doughy breast.

he feels desperate, clawing out for something he doesn’t understand. he doesn’t want to stop talking to you. he knows he needs to. he has to leave you alone as much as he can, for the sake of these two months. but he doesn’t want to.

so, serval minutes after his first message, he messages you again.

your butterflies swarm your stomach and you suppress a squeal in case he might hear you as your phone lights up again.

you open it immediately, far past caring what it says that you were so quick to read it. the message reads:

and trust me, i’m far from scarred xx

｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+*ﾟ

a/n: i will make a part 2 asap but i need to get this out in the world or i’ll die. reblog if you enjoyed!!

#aot armin #armin smut #armin x reader #attack on titan armin #armin arlert #armin aot #armin arlet x reader #armin arlet smut #aot armin smut #armin x y/n #armin x reader smut #stepdad!armin #aot smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #tw stepcest #tw age gap

[bluejutdae]

Stray Kids as Hozier songs | OT8

Chan

Take me to Church - the song resonates with leadership and a commanding presence in the same way Chan does, with a very bold and powerful nature. It's a very intense song. Chan is devoted to the members and the music and he’s a determined man. Chan's unwavering presence is always passionate and the soulful vocals of the song coupled with the powerful instrumentals mirrors the role of Chan in the group. The lyrics also reflects resistance, something we know Chan is well versed into.

Minho

Nina Cried Power - The empowering theme of the song resonates with Minho's social involvement. "It's not the song, it is the singing". It's no mystery Minho is very well conscious of inequalities in the world, and he does what he can to fight them. The song also explore power and the force of collective strength, something that pairs well to Minho and his attentive care to guide Stray Kids in dancing as a unit. "It's not the wall, but what's behind": he understands and communicates perfectly how the connections between members (even beyond the surface) are part of the strength of the group.

Changbin

Jackie and Wilson - Stylistically speaking, the song’s instrumentals are impactful and strong just like Changbin's rapping and his ability to make strong artistic statements even when in a group. The lyrics convey the sense of overcoming challenges, something Changbin himself admitted to have done, and in doing so, he made a lasting impact in the musical world and in the lives of many (who often speak about the impact Changbin had on them).

Hyunjin

Cherry Wine - sweet and soulful, a very gentle and emotional atmosphere, tender but complex, almost like it’s hiding a constant questioning. The song has the ability to convey emotional depth and a story, and it’s mirrored by the ability Hyunjin has to do the same while dancing. The song has a tone of melancholy in itself, a bittersweet taste that Hyunjin is able to replicate with his ability to convey emotional complexity with just a facial expression or a movement. The poetic nature of the song, despite the negative narrative aspects, reflect Hyunjin artistic expression and many of his paintings.

Jisung

From Eden - Jisung's creative style match the complexity and depth found in the narrative of the song. In the song there's a sense of familiarity and introspection, and both Jisung and the song manage to be amazing storytellers. The imagery in the song it's very vivid, just like Han's lyrics, and the symbolism is so Jisung coded.

Felix

Almost (sweet music) - smooth and stylish, the song depicts a sophisticated atmosphere, yet a longing and emotional one. There's a mix of style in the song, a bit of classic jazz and something more contemporary, and it translate perfectly in Felix's duality. The heart being, in a way, the main character is also something easily paired to Felix, who always wears his heart on his sleeves.

Seungmin

Someone new - an hopeful and melodic atmosphere, a "friendly" song even to those who are not fans of Hozier. There's lightness in the lyrics yet they’re honest and clear, and they translate in Seungmin's position in the group. As said, it’s an honest song, almost like a self-discovering journey from the narrator and it suits Seungmin so well.

Jeongin

To noise making (sing) - bright energy, uplifting and optimistic tones. There's a careless energy in the song and exuberance that reflects Jeongin's. The melodies are almost whimsical, and paired with the uplifting message it reminds me of the constant positive and cheerful aura that I.N. has. It also always makes me think it can be read as a message to Jeongin from his hyungs: the undeniable love they have for him, the unwavering support and the joy they all feel just by watching him being happy…

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #bluejutdae #skz #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #changbin x reader #changbin x you #skz Smau #stray kids Smau #stray kids fake texts #skz fake texts #skz imagines #minho x reader #minho x you #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x reader #jisung x reader #jisung x you #felix x you #felix x reader #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #jeongin x you #fem reader #smau #stray kids texts

[cowgirleddiediaz]

so i'm gonna gently take the buddie glasses off, because i worry people are taking this last round of press as proof that buddie canon is upon us (fwiw tim's been pretty clear this is all a wip, so we should take anything they say with a grain of salt, i'm also not saying my readings of these interviews are 100% right either)

obviously people are freaking out over lou's comment that his arc was "originally, possibly going to be with eddie" (x) and taking it as confirmation gay eddie is in the works. but all it means for sure is at some point they talked about a coming out arc for eddie but then for whatever reason scrapped it. maybe that's to rework into something else, but it doesn't mean they definitely did/are.

tim also said this when asked why they chose to make buck bi:

I’m always thinking about different variations for every character, so it’s weirdly kind of a loaded question because we’re constantly considering what all the options are for all the characters, but it really felt like, “No, this is Buck’s story.” This made sense with Buck. The thing that I liked about it with Buck is that it has kind of a rom-com element. I wasn’t really interested in doing the bravest [coming-out] episode of 1985, you know what I mean? I wanted something that felt contemporary and that didn’t feel like it was weighted with a lot of angst. It’s an awakening for his character, but I think that there’s joy in it (x)

and like, are you telling me an eddie coming out arc wouldn't be weighted with a lot of angst?

I also think people are reading too much into the fact lou said he was only initially asked back for four episodes. that's just how contracts work guys, it's an at least not a maximum.

i'm not saying that buddie is completely off the table either, i'm just worried about how the language has shifted from "if" to "when" even though nothing has really justified that.

#911 abc #911 spoilers #i don't want to ruin anyones fun but people are setting themselves up for no reason #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #tommy kinard #bucktommy

[one-squash-one-end]

I wrote a giant Raven Cycle analysis

Hi! Over the last year or so I've been working on a sort of essay about various themes in the raven cycle series, and I finally finished it a few weeks ago.

It is titled: "Why I love The Raven Cycle - An excessive analysis of the themes of friendship, queerness and growing up".

And since tumblr loves its meta (and bc I love peer validation) I've decided to start uploading it bit by bit here, making this the masterpost (if I can figure out the logistics of the linking lmao, bear with me)

(beware of spoilers up to greywaren starting at like 3b!)

Introduction

What even is the Raven Cycle?

Trust me, the characters are queer as fuck and I can prove it a) Blue Sargent b) Gansey c) Adam Parrish d) Ronan Lynch e) Noah f) Henry Cheng g) Honorary mentions

The Gangsey is a polycule

Analyzing the reoccurring themes a) Friendship b) Being a teen/growing up c) (Found) Family d) Magic (as a metaphor) e) Further themes I appreciate

Drawing a conclusion

Click here to start with the introductory parts!

1. Introduction

So here’s the thing: I love fiction almost as much as I love my friends. There’s something deeply comforting about the escapism, even if the book actually makes me want to scream and throw it on the floor (only one book has been thrown so far, I promise!).  Fiction is a healthy thing to occupy my thoughts with: headcanons! Quotes being on loop in my brain! Just fandoms!

And for me, if I am hooked on a book (series), it does not even need a good plot where a lot of things happen. In fact, I would say that my enjoyment of a book is made up of 30% plot and about 70% characters and vibes. If the characters are bland, if they do not make me feel much emotion, it likely won’t be more than 4 stars (additional info: I am way too nice rating books!). I really, really need to love the characters, to be able to relate to some aspects of them, or it just won’t become an obsession.

Since I have already started explaining that a bit, let’s look at this question: What is important to make a book special to me? 1. I need to cry reading it. 2. I have to think about it often, even weeks to months after having read it. 3. Obviously, I need to love the characters. 4. I need to be in the fandom! This can be hard with some books, but the internet is a whimsical space allowing you to find at least a small number of people who are obsessed with a work of fiction to a similar extent as you are.

Now, why am I elaborating on this so much? It’s because The Raven Cycle did all that for me. It is my favorite comfort book series at the moment, for all those aspects mentioned, but of course I cannot just leave it at that. No, I wrote a whole-ass analysis on headcanons and some of its themes. You’re welcome.

2. What even is The Raven Cycle?

The Raven Cycle is all I adore and live for (next to my friends). So, naturally, it’s a book series, specifically a four book young adult contemporary fantasy series by American author Maggie Stiefvater. The books in question are: The Raven Boys (2012), The Dream Thieves (2013), Blue Lily, Lily Blue (2014) and The Raven King (2016), and yes I will admit that the publishing dates are a bit of a red flag. There is also the very relevant follow-up series called The Dreamer Trilogy (Call Down The Hawk, Mister Impossible, Greywaren), but it’s a lot less easy to get into that here as I do not know these entire books by heart, so I’ll stick to the original tetralogy here.

To stick to red flags, the books are set in the fictional Henrietta, a rural town in non-fictional Virginia, US, in the 2010s. However, that doesn’t really say *that* much about the plot, so let me summarize that really quick, because I can do better than the official synopsis! (Or let’s pretend I can.)

Blue Sargent comes from a family of psychics, yet she does not have any powers of her own. Even worse, she is a bit of an amplifier for the others, meaning she is always somehow but never directly involved in the business. As if that isn’t enough for an identity crisis, every psychic she has ever met has told her that her kiss would kill her true love. Yikes.

But because she is that amplifier, she comes to a church watch on St. Mark’s Eve, where psychics see the spirits of those to die within the following year. It’s important business, but to her it’s really just staring into the dark. Until she does actually see a spirit: That of Gansey. Of course this is not a coincidence. No, to add to this teen’s mount of problems, there are only two reasons why a non-seer would see someone’s spirit: They are their true love, or they killed them. Or, in Blue’s case, maybe both.

The aforementioned Gansey is Henrietta’s Golden Boy, the son of politicians (read: he’s fucking loaded). He does not run with the Republicans though, he runs with dead Welsh kings, meaning he has been searching for the probably dead, presumably sleeping Welsh king Glendower (*1350; †1416; yikes) for the past like seven years. Why the fuck would he do that? Well, legend says that he will grant a wish to whoever wakes him, and our favorite PTSD-ridden guy really wants that favor.

Aiding him are fellow Aglionby students Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch and Noah Czerny, plus Henry Cheng, though only a lot later in the series, but I really did not want to leave out that menace (affectionately) here. The paths of Blue and the boys cross because of Gansey’s search for Glendower, plus the fact that Blue works at a popular pizza place, but that’s a lot less whimsical. And, well, there’s the implication that Gansey might also be her true love, but perhaps she just kills him because of his bad fashion sense, it would be justified. Anyway, in true Famous Five fashion (Ronan is the dog; I won’t elaborate, the girls that get it, get it) they are of course not the only ones searching for the king, so it’s not completely a wholesome friend bonding activity all the way through.

Be prepared for: friendship and growing up, lots of treasure hunting, family mysteries, magical forests, illegal and slightly distasteful activities (our favorite of course), but most of all, heavily queer-coded (or even canonically queer) characters. Be Gay, Do Crime.

#y'all better like this it took a while #trc #the raven cycle #gansey #blue sargent #ronan lynch #adam parrish #noah czerny #henry cheng #the raven king #the raven boys #blue lily lily blue #the dream thieves #let's hope i don't forget about this after the first part #please talk to me about your thoughts

[floatingcatacombs]

Go Nagai was insane for this one

12 Days of Aniblogging 2023, Day 8

I like to always have manga of dubious quality on tap for when I’m having trouble sleeping. Ideally, reading a few chapters will distract me, but I won’t want to stay up late shotgunning volumes. Devilman Lady was the ideal manga for this, and this is maybe the last time anyone will ever describe Devilman Lady as "ideal".

An extremely brief introduction is in order. If Osamu Tezuka is the godfather of manga, then Go Nagai is manga’s weird horny uncle. He’s arguably just as influential, the two of them just moved in different circles, each reifying entire genres. Nagai is more or less responsible for magical girls, super robot, and ecchi, and also spent a lot of time in the sphere of supernatural and post-apocalyptic manga. These are fundamentally genres of extremity and ridiculousness, and Nagai dials every one of his works up to 11 by the end, one way or another. Devilman is probably his most famous work over here, and it’s a stone-cold classic for a reason. Nagai has kept revisiting it over the years, with side stories, alternate universes, manga cameos, and even entirely new series that function as stealth sequels such as Violence Jack. But his most notable attempt is Devilman Lady, which is far more than a simple gender-swap of the original.

Devilman Lady is about swimming deep in filth. It’s easily the most disgust-provoking manga I’ve read, with pretty much every content warning under the sun applicable. This is a truly rotten and conspiratorial world that Nagai is depicting. Societal decay manifests in countless forms, including rape, child abuse, homophobia, militarism, and hatred towards immigrants. Anything that could be potentially understood as fanservice is placed right next to or directly within the atrocities at hand, and it's genuinely unclear how much Nagai intended that as commentary. His intentions throughout this whole manga are a bit of an enigma, but what's clear that he is firing on all cylinders.

This is an extremely zeitgeisty 90’s work, with intelligent design debates, the mapping of the human genome, new age paranoia, religious zealotry, and anxiety over pollution all playing out on the pages. Where it breaks from many of its contemporaries is a decisive rejection of the end of history. This is the kind of thing you write when you��re still reeling from the subway sarin gas attacks and your country's role in the Gulf War and subsequent militarization. It’s the perfect manga for capturing a time period when ten to twenty percent of Japan’s population were estimated to have belonged to a new religious movement.

The punchline to all of this is that he doesn’t know how to draw women.

By the back half of Devilman Lady, Nagai’s depictions of hellscapes and grotesque monsters reach near-Berserk levels of detail and technical competency. And yet his female protagonists are still drawn in a drastically simpler 70's style, only now with giant spheres grafted to their chests. Either humans and the infernal are two completely different skillsets, or this was a deliberate artistic decision, and both are difficult to swallow. Either way, we just have to accept the juxtapositions.

one of my favorite pages to show people devoid of context

The finale is just nuts. Go Nagai makes textual the homoeroticism and gender deviance of the original Devilman manga, as the world burns in both nuclear warfare and demonic hellfire. The story starts accelerating at an unfathomable pace, the most inscrutable double mobius reacharound yaoiyuri occurs, and the universe resets once or twice. It makes the endings of Jojo Part 6 and 7 look tame by comparison. There is no way to parse this like a normal manga with a plot and narrative. It is raw id.

This has been a year where I’ve tried to deliberately broaden my comfort zone by engaging with more potentially upsetting works if I think they'll have something interesting to say. This was like jumping into the deep end. Devilman Lady may very well be Go Nagai’s magnum opus. It’s not nearly as tight as the original manga, but it’s a glorious mess, just as radical to its own time as Devilman must have been in the 70s. It made for spectacular insomnia reading. And there’s no way in hell I can ever recommend it.

At age 19, Nagai went through a bout of diarrhea so bad that he convinced himself it was colon cancer, and that he was at death's door. He vowed to leave something behind for the world to remember him by, and began laboring away on manga. And for the last 60 years of his career, he’s written and drawn with the fervor of a man who’s about to shit himself to death. Maybe that’s the real secret.

#12 days of anime #devilman #devilman lady

[nicosraf]

You inspire me…. Any advice for writing books ?

!! I'm honored u get a little inspiration from me! That's very sweet of you.

I struggle with advice because I've only written about 5 books and published... two-ish. (An old fanfic and ABM, which as you know is basically fanfic). But I think I have some specific advice since I'm revising right now and have a lot of thoughts... Here is what works for me (!):

Outline. I know it sucks but... please try it. (Or you'll end up like GRRM).

Draft without going back to read what you wrote, or at least don't read your unfinished manuscript in full. You will want to edit it. Don't edit it. Yes it sounds bad; yes you used the same word 8 times in a paragraph by accident; yes you can see a major plot hole. Don't fix it yet, maybe write it down somewhere so you don't forget to fix it later. You need to avoid editing while drafting or you will never finish the draft. This is the biggest advice I can give anyone, especially if you haven't written your first book yet.

Give each character a strong backstory, even if it never shows up in the plot. Sounds obvious but sometimes I have to remind myself of this.

Give your characters friendships, not just romantic relationships. Include tender scenes with friends.

A lot of writing is tedious and boring. Drafting is hard, editing is hard. You have to be disciplined. But finding motivation is also hard. Don't motivate yourself using the dream of a fanbase or the dream of becoming famous. You're setting yourself up to be hurt. (Not because any of that is impossible but because achieving it in the way that you dream is virtually impossible.) Motivate yourself using something more personal, if you can.

Re-do your outline after you draft. Why? Because you probably changed things while you drafted, you probably made some stuff up on the spot, character dynamics changed, etc. A new outline is good because you can see the story you actually wrote, which is helpful for editing for plot cohesion, moving scenes, adding and removing stuff.

Your draft is going to be bad. Don't freak out. Drafts are always bad. You're going to want to analyze the hell out of it though. What did you plan, what did you write, what worked, what didnt work, what themes are on the page, what themes should you remove, what themes should you amplify.

When editing a scene isn't working, rewrite it entirely. Yes it's more work. You'll be much happier though, I promise.

The first to second revisions should be for plot and characters and pacing; these should take the longest and be the most difficult. The last third to fourth revision should be about prose. Don't focus on prose when you're trying to fix the plot.

Let characters fuck up unforgivably.

Consider your audience heavily when you edit, but don't consider them when you draft.

I've given this advice before but when it comes to plot devices/objects, you want to give each device a moment of introduction, a moment where it's recalled, and a moment of use. (Ex. A knife is introduced in chapter 1, its mentioned again casually in chapter 7, then it's used to kill someone in chapter 14.) This is mostly to give each object its own arc that feels satisfactory but ur the boss about what works best.

Kill all your characters, but not physically (unless you want to). Make them change so much that, by the end, they would barely recognize who they were at the start.

This is book advice for the type of books that I've written. Things are very different if you're writing, say, contemporary romance, but I think this list is pretty general !! I hope it helps. Good luck!!

#mine #ask #writing

[ode2rin]

JUST MAYBE .ೃ

pairing. isagi yoichi x gn!reader

genre. strangers to .. hopefully something more? | slow burn | chance encounter

content/warnings. 2.3k+ wc | characters are in their early 20s ! | pro-athlete!isagi | reader works in a bookstore | profanity | a bit heavy in narration | written in reader’s perspective |  minimal proofread | ooc!isagi (sorry it’s my first time writing for him..) | open ending

in which: a cafe encounter with a stranger shows you exactly how well fate intervenes

💭 thank you for the request anon!

this is it. this is the last straw.

this is the last time you’re ever allowing yourself to be vain and believe empty words from a man.

sitting in a café, self-pity takes hold of you as regret washes over your being. the nagging feeling, the hollowness in your gut that you should have paid attention to, now mocks you with its undeniable presence. how could you have ignored it, brushing it off as if it were insignificant?

the bustling café seemed oblivious to your disappointment, the air thick with the laughter and whispers of couples lost in their own bliss. their happiness, a stark contrast to your own melancholic state.

you glance at your phone, the screen displaying a conversation that adds salt to the wound.

you: let me know if you’re on your way! [2:06 pm] you: hey, i’m already here :) is everything fine? [2:43 pm]

a heavy sigh escapes your lips, the weight of anger and embarrassment settling upon your shoulders. 

dating in your early twenties has proven to be far more challenging than you ever imagined. while your friends effortlessly navigate the labyrinth of love, you find yourself trapped in a cycle of dashed hopes and unfulfilled connections. 

here you are, once again left sitting alone at a table meant for two.

and you know it's destructive to point fingers at directions pointing to you, but for goodness sake, can anyone just tell you what's wrong with you? or can fate simply provide apparent signs, allowing both you and the divine to save precious time? 

because it's becoming increasingly draining. 

the cycle repeats itself relentlessly: falling in love, only for it to unravel into a cacophony of screams and tears. your heart shattered, you gather the pieces and muster the courage to try again, only to wonder what awaits in the next stage of this never-ending cycle.

and you can’t help but to wonder, when will it ever be your turn? if other people could experience a love so kind, why can’t you? why can't you have what they have? what makes you any less deserving?

is it really too much to ask for a love that doesn't demand a piece of your soul as collateral? can't there exist a love where vulnerability isn't met with heartache?

and coming from someone who has been gravely hurt in the name of so-called love, it’s impossible not to wonder if such love even exists in this world or if it's merely a figment of your imagination born from those contemporary romance books you read on your lonely nights.

well, there's no use crying over spilled milk. he wasn't all that anyway. besides, you had only agreed to this supposed date due to your friend's persistent nagging, urging you to break your self-imposed “man ban” streak and venture back into the world of romance. “why not?” you had thought at the time, only to be reminded why you even imposed such a ban in the first place.

“excuse me, is this seat taken? the place is kinda packed, so if you don’t mind..” 

lost in your thoughts, you're momentarily startled as a soft voice interrupts your reverie. the stranger before you stumbles over his words, shyness coloring his demeanor.

you take a moment to truly see him— this man who has unexpectedly entered your sphere. and heavens, he is gorgeous.

“no, it’s not taken. please, feel free.”

with your response, the stranger settles into the seat across from you. as he takes a sip from his cup, your nose takes a whiff of the inviting aroma of his latte, which fills the air, adding another layer of warmth to the already vibrant café atmosphere.

taking a contemplative sip of your own drink, you savor the flavors that dance on your tongue. the comforting embrace of the warm liquid spreads through your body, soothing your senses.

his blue-eyed gaze drifts toward your own drink, curiosity evident within those pools. “what drink is that? it looks intriguing.”

you can't help but internally chuckle at his attempts at small talk. your drink is nothing spectacular, let alone intriguing, but the fact that he wants to make something out of it gives you a glimpse of his endearing shyness.

still, you smile, pleased by his interest. “it's actually their signature drink. i find it quite enjoyable. and your latte? it looks divine.”

well, you’re not any better than his attempts. seriously? what looks exceptionally divine about a latte?

the man in front of you nods appreciatively, taking another sip from his cup. “nothing grand, just a decaf latte. i find it soothing and energizing, especially on slow days like this one.”

you hum in response, seemingly out of attempts for small talk. but the lack of a coherent response from you doesn’t elicit an uncomfortable silence, but rather the opposite. a cozy silence settles between you, the ambient sounds of the café serving as a gentle backdrop to your now shared sphere.

after a few minutes of sitting in silence, you notice from your peripheral vision that he steals a few glances your way, as if waiting for the right moment to strike up another conversation.

cute.

it's an understatement, as a matter of fact. the guy before you is downright mesmerizing. if you could gaze at his face for more than two seconds without being called weird, you could map the entirety of how blessed this man’s face is — the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he speaks, the subtle strength in his jawline, and the way his hair falls in a perfectly disheveled manner.

and his eyes. damn, his eyes. such a beautiful shade of blue must have taken the hand of god some time to create.

“so –”

“what –”

the two of you speak simultaneously, your voices overlapping in the air, prompting you both to take a moment and stare at each other before laughing at the coincidence.

“you first,” you offered.

“no, you go first.”

you offer a warm smile and motion for him to go first. “i insist.” the truth is, after seeing him laugh, you momentarily forgot what you were even about to ask.

it’s just a laugh. get it together.

were you this deprived of someone’s company to melt at their laugh? or is this stranger just so painfully beautiful that it’s now affecting your memory and ability to converse?

his lips curl into a shy smile as he hesitates for a brief moment. his eyes flicker with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. “alright, well, i was wondering... do you come here often? i don’t think i’ve seen you here before.”

you shook your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “not really. i'm actually a newcomer here. i work at a bookstore nearby, and i stumbled upon this place by chance.”

it was two truths and one lie. and as apparent as it was, you sure as hell didn’t “stumbled upon this place,” where in truth and fact, you were invited here by your supposed-to-be date who might have forgotten to reply to you two hours after your last message.

“the bookstore on the main street? it’s a huge place, that’s so cool. my friend, chigiri, has been meaning to visit there. maybe i’ll try to tag along some time.”

a blush crept up your cheeks, touched by his admiration. it was a stark contrast to the belittlement toward your job you had encountered in past dating experiences, and this wasn’t even a date. “thank you. i’ll be happy to help you and your friend when you drop by.”

“so, what do you do, mr…?” you asked, trying to delve deeper into the conversation.

“oh, pardon me for not introducing myself properly. i’m isagi yoichi, and i, uhm, play soccer for a living. it's not as impressive as being surrounded by books all day, though.”

isagi yoichi. soccer player.

so that explains the hint of a lean physique beneath his clothes – not that you were checking him out. anyone with eyesight could detect that this gorgeous stranger, isagi, is in great shape. yup, definitely not checking him out.

“and yours?”

“hmm? sorry, what were you saying?”

a soft smile tugs at isagi's lips as he repeats his question, “i was just asking about your name.”

you bring your attention back to the present, realizing you've momentarily lost yourself in his gaze. “oh. it’s l/n y/n.”

as the words of your name hang in the air, a sense of familiarity begins to settle between you. you and isagi engage in a comfortable conversation, effortlessly weaving in and out of topics. each exchange reveals more about your respective lives, forging a connection that feels too genuine for people who just met not even an hour ago. 

isagi shares stories from his soccer career, the highs and lows, the challenges and triumphs. his passion for the sport shines through in every word, and you find yourself captivated by how animated he is in sharing his tales. it's a pleasant break from your previous experiences, where self-importance seemed to be the common thread among your dates. 

with isagi, there's no trace of conceit hanging in every word. 

in turn, you open up about your love for literature and the joy you find in sharing stories with others. isagi listens attentively, his eyes sparkling with interest as you speak about the power of words and the magic that exists within the pages of books. 

while it becomes evident that he may not be an avid reader himself, there's a beautiful acceptance and respect in the way isagi listens. he never once made you feel as though your love for literature is any less significant than his passion for soccer.

amidst the lively exchange, you catch glimpses of isagi's gentle nature, his ability to make you feel at ease, and his genuine curiosity about your thoughts and experiences. it's a refreshing change from the superficial interactions you've had in the past, and you're left wondering if the man in front of you is even real.

you can't help but laugh at the thought of men being able to hold a conversation like isagi. and while that proves that the bar may be in hell, but damn, it is as if isagi raised it above his own head.

time seems to slip away as the conversation flows effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and genuine moments of connection. there are no awkward silences, no need for pretense or guardedness. it's as if you've known each other for much longer than a chance encounter in a café.

just when you think the moment might stretch into eternity, isagi’s ringing phone slices through the air, abruptly breaking the spell. 

his eyes widen, a touch of regret flickering across his face as he retrieves his phone from his pocket. “ah, it's my teammate. i'm afraid i have to head out first,” he says with a tinge of disappointment.

your heart sinks a little at the prospect of parting ways so soon. “oh, it's okay. i had a nice time, isagi,” you reply, attempting to mask your disappointment.

“me too,” isagi responds, his voice filled with a hint of tone you’re feigning ignorance too. “i wish we could talk more.”

you can sense the hesitance in his words, the unspoken desire to extend the encounter. it's an opening, a moment of curiosity lingering between you. seizing the opportunity, you decide to tease him ever so slightly. “hmm, well, that call seemed important,” you remark, raising an eyebrow playfully.

you’re not dense, but you were curious to see how he would try.

isagi fidgets, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah, i think so. we have an upcoming match next weekend,” he stumbles over his words, clearly struggling with the invitation he's about to extend. “speaking of the match, would it be too forward of me to invite you to watch?”

wouldn’t it? 

your heart flutters at the invitation, and for a brief moment, you contemplate the possibilities.

this day had been a rollercoaster ride of emotions. one moment, you were nursing the wounds of being stood up, wallowing in self-pity and contemplating the challenges of dating. and now, here you were, being invited by a complete stranger — a stranger who also happened to be the most captivating person you've ever laid eyes upon.

fate be damned, because it seems to have a wicked sense of humor, toying with your emotions from one extreme to another.

glancing down at your cup, you swirl the remaining liquid, feigning nonchalance to mask the racing thoughts in your mind. “depends on who you want me to attend as,” you tease, curious to see how he responds.

you raise your eyes, locking eyes with isagi, only to find him wearing a boyish grin that could rival the sun and staring at you with those damn blue eyes that put the oceans to shame.

“anything you can offer to be, right now.”

fuck it. 

with a surge of boldness, you decide to take a leap of faith. “then i would love to be there.”

the energy shifts as isagi beams at your acceptance of his invitation. he bids you goodbye, only to hesitate and return to you with an endearing awkwardness. he offers his number, tripping over his own words as he suggests you can call him whenever you want. you can't help but laugh at his adorable awkwardness, finding it endearing beyond measure. you hand him your phone, and with hurried movements, he inputs his number before bidding you goodbye once more.

with a smile lingering on your lips, you watch isagi's retreating figure, feeling a warmth radiate through you. your gaze then shifts to the phone in your hand, where you see the contact name you've set for him. 

maybe: isagi yoichi

why not, right? you're down to take the chance.

because maybe, just maybe, one more try wouldn’t hurt this time.

note. welcome to isagi mimi debut omg i kinda do not like it but huhu this trope is so hard for me to write, i’m not gonna lie. but i surprisingly had fun making this hehe. and i’m not really a fan of instant love soooo, here’s the best i could do ._. i think i would rather opt to make a sequel than a time skip so let’s leave it at that :>

thanks for reaching this far!

💭 back to: milestone event

#☁️ my ode to you #first milestone event! #writing: 002 #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #isagi yoichi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #isagi yoichi fluff #isagi yoichi x y/n #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff

[thebeesareback]

There's something which bothers me about asoiaf.

The night's watch, we've heard, was established after the long night, about 8000 years ago. Jon is (supposedly) the 998th Lord Commander, which approximately tracks.

We're led to believe that the vows have not changed at all during this time. I ask you to find the oldest book you can. For me, in the UK, that's probably Shakespeare, who was writing late 1500s/early 1600s. I have an English degree and i struggle with some of the language. Words fall in and out of fashion, understanding of concepts like, hm, marriage, change over time (Measure for Measure, I'm looking at you), and invasions will impact linguistics.

Therefore, a vow written by Shakespeare 500-ish years ago would have totally different connotations to a contemporary person vs a modern one, and someone with little/no formal education (like most of the nights' watch) probably wouldn't understand most of it. And that's 500 years! The nights' watch vow is 8000 years old! If someone handed me a peice of writing from 8000 years ago, which is technically the stone age, i wouldn't even know if I was holding it the right way up. Those vows aren't just dated: they're complete jibberish.

To add to this: Westerosi history generally seems pretty strange. We're supposed to understand that the maesters carefully destroyed lots of information about dragons, which helped contribute to their extinction. Yet, somehow, Asha Greyjoy knows about Kingsmoots, when the last one happened 5000 years ago? Again, a UK based example: stonehenge is about 5000 years old. Nobody knows what it's for. There are theories, there are people who worship there, but mostly it's a bunch of cool rocks. So it doesn't make sense that all of the information about dragons is lost over about 200 years from the Dance to Dany asking her handmaidens for info, but Asha, who comes from a culture where learning and reading aren't exactly celebrated, suddenly has access to all of this ancient information.

We do, of course, love, respect and stan one (1) Rodrick the Reader for his contributions to Asha's education and understanding of history, but one person isn't enough to keep history/culture/customs alive for 5000 years.

#grrm #george r r martin #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #got #a clash of kings #a storm of swords #a feast for crows #a dance with dragons #jon snow #samwell tarly #the nights watch #the iron throne #the iron islands #yara greyjoy #asha greyjoy #the kingsmoot

[theladyragnell]

Hi! Happy new year 😊 It just struck me you're a voracious reader with (I think) quite a few romance novels under your belt and a talent for writing romance yourself, so I come begging a favour for the beginning of the year: if I wanted to read the most fun and indulgent and giggle-inducing romance in 2024, what would you you recommend? I'm hoping for something not only well-written, but triumphantly and unapologetically in its genre, if that makes sense. Thank you so much for taking the time to read (let alone answer!) this ask!

Oh friend, I love reading romance novels, please, buckle in, let's have some fun! You seem to be looking for the flavor that I tend to refer to as romps, as opposed to the more serious and dramatic or erotica-flavored romances, so let me give you a bit of a selection of those.

Contemporaries: Jennifer Crusie is the absolute master of banter, for all her best works are pretty old at this point! Bet Me and Faking It have aged the best in my opinion. I read Alexandria Bellefleur's The Fiancee Farce last year, and if you've ever read and enjoyed a "whoops, we have to get married for this clause in my relative's will" fanfic this one's for you. The Neighbor Favor by Kristina Forest was one of my favorite romances from last year, though it's a bit less bantery than these others. Oh! Talia Hibbert! Her Brown sisters books are a thing of beauty and a joy forever (Ravenswood is also good, but a bit more serious in tone and we're going for romps here). Jasmine Guillory is also worth a try, lots of fun if maybe a little less banter-focused. Oh! And a shoutout for two action romcoms I read this year, Partners in Crime by Alisha Rai and To Have and to Heist by Sara Desai.

Historicals: Tessa Dare loves a bantery romance, give The Duchess Deal a try on for size! Last year I read The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes by Cat Sebastian, which was a joy, and I hear a lot of good about Sebastian's m/m books too, though I haven't been able to dive into them yet. Away from the romps, Mary Balogh is one of my all-time favorites (but start with her newer work, particularly the Survivors' Club series), I've been enjoying Christina Britton a lot lately, and Eva Ibbotson's books for older readers have my heart forever and always. (I feel like this section is reading less enthusiastic than the contemporaries, but it's just that I read so many historicals that it's hard to remember which book with Duke in the title stands out!) Oh! Ravishing the Heiress by Sherry Thomas somehow hits my loves perfectly, though again not a romp, I've got a rather graver taste in historicals. And Olivia Waite's sapphic historicals! The Lady's Guide to Celestial Mechanics is the first one. And everyone recommends Courtney Milan, but The Duke Who Didn't is a true joy.

Fantasy: Fantasy romance is my genre crossover of the 2020s! It's my two favorite escapist genres mixed together, and when it hits the sweet spot it REALLY does. And my friend, I am looking you in the eyes and I am telling you to read T. Kingfisher's paladin books, starting with Paladin's Grace, if you have any interest at all in fantasy as a genre. (Fair warning: Kingfisher also writes horror, and takes great pleasure at least once per fantasy book of reminding you of that.) And now that I've given you the gateways, I'm also going to recommend you The Devotion of Delflenor by R. Cooper (it's not bantery, but I keep telling people, if you fall into my very specific sweet spot of having been in E/R fandom in 2013-2014 and having loved the Tortall books in your youth you NEED to read this, and even one or the other means you should, the pining is exquisite), The Sorceress Transcendent by Casey Blair, Olivia Atwater's Regency Faerie Tales series, and Troubled Waters by Sharon Shinn.

... Okay, you asked for one book and I gave you SO many. That is because romance has so many tones and moods and subgenres, and only you know which one is going to put the biggest smile on your face! Hopefully I have given you enough information to make the choice that is best and happiest for you.

#anonymous #answered asks #if anyone else wants some book recs for your 2024 lay your questions on me

[howtofightwrite]

Hello there! What are the pros and cons of using naginatas as a weapon specifically? Is it fairly similar to the ones for lots of other polearms? Or is it it's own unique thing? (Trying to get an accurate idea of how it would feel to use one in combat for some writing I want to do.)

Thanks!

Pros:

Firmly encourage people to maintain social distancing.

Slice people you haven't even met yet.

Slice people riding horses or standing on low roofs.

Add ribbons and streamers as fashion accessories.

Easy to carry.

Can always find one at the right length for you.

Better leverage for your blade than if it had been mounted of a katana.

Never need to explain that you're overcompensating for something.

Amazing looking duels with fellow naginata users.

You can use it on horseback.

Try to impress the Onna-musha.

Cons:

A little bit claustrophobic.

Not great in a mosh pit.

Doesn't like going indoors.

Not good against people who refuse to social distance.

No one will respect you for being a samurai, and may still make fun of you.

Still a delicate razor blade.

Fail to impress the Onna-musha, they know all your moves, are probably better at them than you, and are more interested in making jokes about the length of your shaft.

So, the naginata is basically the blade of a katana mounted on the end of a long shaft. This doesn't make it inherently bad. But it does inherit some of the weakness of a sword, combined with the range of a polearm. That said, keeping them intact is quite doable, you just need to be careful about how you strike.

As mentioned above, and as with almost all polearms, it shines in situations where you can keep enemies at range, and becomes a lot less appealing if you can't keep them off of you. This means it works really well in phalanx-style applications. As with all (or, almost all polearms), it has serious value as an anti-cavalry weapon, letting you dispatch riders.

As for it being its own unique thing, yes and no. It is a different kind of polearm, and you can probably some surviving manuals on exactly how to use them. And there is a modern martial art based on the original form. However, I don't know how much of the original Naginatajitsu martial art has been lost. As far as I know, there were at least a few decades between the, “death,” of the martial art in 1868, and it's revival sometime after 1889. Also, when it was revived, it was as a physical fitness regimen, and not as a martial art. That's enough time, to lose a lot of the technical detail, and meant that if it was preserved, it was done so quietly, which increases the risk of elements being lost.

As polearms go, the naginata is pretty light, ranging from about 3 to 8lbs. (Specifically 1.5 – 3.5kg.) Which does make it a bit more agile than you'd expect from a polearm. It's not clear how much of the flourishes you'll see from modern martial artists were actually part of the original martial art or just spectacle, but you can get some solid movement out of them. And even in its day it the weapon's agility was noteworthy. (Though, to be fully honest, I'm not sure how much of that was in the contemporary literature, and how much is from modern analysis. I do suffer from not being able to read the primary sources in this case.)

Naginatas were a very egalitarian weapon, used by the samurai, monks, peasant footsoldiers, and the Onna-musha (women warriors.) That last category has become one of its more enduring cultural associations. In fact the physical fitness revival was specifically targeted as exercise for young girls. (This is part of why the weight range is so wide, as there's a massive variance in shaft length. Anywhere from 4 to 8 feet in length. (Specifically 120-240cm.)) As a polearm, that's kinda short, but the blade itself adds another 85-100cm. This puts the total length at between 6'8” and 11'2”. And, yeah, a three meter polearm is not a joke. Even if there is an unusual amount of blade on the end of that shaft. It's part of why the naginata is immediately distinguishable from other polearms of similar sizes.

The short answer would be that it is a specific weapon, with its own identity. Some of that is a function of physics and some is cultural.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

#howtofightwrite #writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #Starke answers

[throwaway-yandere]

Not Through The Grapevine (Yandere Idol!Diluc Ragnvindr/Reader)

Alice's, mother of Klee, note: Wouldn't it be funny if you ended up producing 5wirl or Kreideprinz? Haha! I don't think your little friend would like that. He might just take my wine cellar away– stick with Diluc, dove. 

P.S: Producer Lumine, can I just write "a/n" next time? This poor mother's getting tired of typing :'(

1k event masterlist

------

"At this time I decide to,

Get over you and 

Want to tell you not through

The grapevine but directly"

- Sakyo-taifu Michimasa

This was the most recent poem you found tucked within your favorite book, printed on a red square paper. The paper looked pretty– and it was faintly scented with grapes too. At first, you assumed it must have been picked up off the floor and put somewhere, and that "somewhere" just so happened to be one of your favorite books.

"Damn it. Help me…" You chuckled nervously. "Can't believe those stalkers thought my book was one of ADDICKTZ again…"

Which "tea" will they spill this time, you wonder? Will they leak that Dainsleif likes "The Scarlet King's Court Jester"? Or maybe they'll say that Zhongli is trying to reconnect with the modern age by reading contemporary fantasy novels? You rolled your eyes, shaking the love letter like you would with a polaroid. 

Oh wow, the contents of this letter are so enthralling. 10/10. You're so impressed. Great job, stalkers.

It's lovely poetry, but once you encounter numerous stalker fans, it sours and loses its charm. After being friends with Diluc, Kaeya, and Ajax for most of your life, you've grown incredibly desensitized by unhinged fans. You have so many bizarre expectations of them that you can't remember the last time you were actually astonished by something they did. Perhaps you'd be surprised if this love letter was for Itto– he doesn't like novels or receiving these types of riddle-y love letters. He'd probably prefer getting a used towel instead.

But there's always theory number #2:

It's possible that Kaedehara Kazuha from the other unit wrote this.

The thought of him made a goofy smile creep up your face unsuspectingly. Damn it. You're starting to feel like one of those fangirls– but can you blame yourself? Kaedehara Kazuha is just so utterly captivating. Maybe he's the one who intentionally put this in your book– can't a person dream? There's nothing wrong with imagining yourself as the protagonist of some romantic escapade with an idol, right? 

Someone cleared their throat.

"Oh, freaki–" You jolted and nearly dropped the card. When you caught a clear view of his face, you immediately felt relieved.

"Ah, good evening Master Diluc." You bowed slightly, sneakily slipping the red paper back inside your book. "You have nothing in your schedule for this week."

"Is that so?" He hummed with a small smile on his face. "Well, do you have anything on yours?"

"It's positively empty, sir." You grinned.

"P-Please, (Y/n)." He covered his face with one hand, avoiding your feigned business-as-usual eyes. "I know that you're my producer now but can we drop the act?"

"We can, but this is so much fun though!" You beamed. "It's like our friendship got ten extra steps– don't take that fun away from me!"

Diluc grunted laconically. You do have a point. The only real change from being a childhood friend to a producer was a fancier title and a damn good paycheck. Fans would kill to be Diluc Ragnvindr's childhood friend AND producer. There's no one else he trusts as much as you. He was a reckless child and you were always there to stop him from getting into trouble. You never failed to clean up after him whenever he decided he'd build a massive medieval lego set. 

That's why it's such a miracle that he grew up to be such a quiet and reserved person. To think this was your friend who got banned from Disneyland of all places– Nowadays, he's more focused on inheriting his father's company and this "unexpected side hustle" of his.

"Dove, since we're both free– do you want to try a bottle of this year's wine?"

"Diluc, we're good friends, so you know that we both loathe wine, right?"

"Ngh, you're right. I can't say I know what possessed me to ask that question." He flinched. "Wait, no, I do– listen (Y/n), Adeline wanted me to come to a Snezhnayan Dawn Winery event this Friday and I don't have a plus one."

"Oh?"

Not that it happens often but Diluc's hilariously affectionate when he's completely inebriated. He does not do well with foreign alcohol. When you were both rebellious teens, he went out and drank a bottle of fire-water with Ajax behind Uncle Crepus' back. This was around the time these two "frenemies" started getting along. A few hours later, Diluc sent you a couple of slurred-voiced messages of how much he loves and cares about you– which was abruptly wrapped up by two quick texts:

"as a comrade of course"

"***friend i mean friend."

Given how awkward it was, you promised Diluc that you won't tell a single soul about this when morning came and he seemed both mortified and relieved about your proposal… You'd rather not have a "part two" of that.

In addition, Ajax acted weird around you ever since. He always gives you a look of pity. Last week, you asked him how he knew the password to your phone when he lost his phone and needed to call his producer. He answered that he "got it from Diluc when he was drunk" with a traumatized look on his face. That was four years ago; you're all in your twenties now. You've changed all your passwords since then. 

You want to help him, but you're still a bit hesitant. He's bound to drink fire-water this Friday. Given how you and Ajax would be unwilling to accompany him, you decided to throw Kaeya under the bus.

"Why not invite your brother?"

Diluc's eyes squinted.

"Oh, right."

Kaeya's been absent for a week now, you're not sure why and his producer wasn't answering your calls. You wonder how they're doing…

"How about the others?"

"Everyone in ADDICKTZ is busy except for Producer Snail."

… Okay let's try to avoid that as much as possible. You don't want Itto's producer crying over some rich people's escargot.

"How about 5wirl-"

"Not happening."

You smiled sheepishly. He probably didn't want Venti to come. "Alright, you got me. It's hard to say no to you. I was only planning to laze around the house anyways."

"Thank you. I'll make it worth your mora."

"It better be because I'm not cheap, sir."

"(Y/n), please–"

—--

It was a Friday night and the two of you decided to meet up at the venue's parking lot first. You were leaning against a tree while waiting for him. When he did arrive, you saw him in a black tuxedo accentuated with red accents. There's no doubt about it. He's idol-worthy and more.

Compared to you, this is just... Gah, how can you even compare to him?

"Hey, um, you look great! Like usual, and I kinda feel bad that I showed up wearing this." You frowned. "So, um, is this... acceptable?"

He closed his eyes and chuckled. "Do you really have to ask that?"

"I'm not going to lie, I'm a bit self-con–"

"Don't be. You're breathtaking." Diluc crossed his arms and spoke earnestly. "Even if you wore the most atrocious outfit known to man, you'll forever be gorgeous to me."

You were still flustered. "That's sweet and all but it REALLY doesn't help me–"

"You're aesthetically pleasing. You have exquisite tastes– you picked just the right colors that match your eyes and I adore the way you styled your hair for tonight." He muttered with a scowl. "Seeing you put in this much effort… makes me want to delude myself that I am someone special to you, just this once."

You paused.

"But you are special to me."

Diluc smiled bitterly. "Not in the same way as him, no."

"What do you mean?"

"So, how much should I pay you for this?" He digressed jokingly, but his grin looked painful. "Surely, I have to pay a high price for commissioning a lovely fae."

You laughed. "Yeah. You owe me a pay raise, sir!"

Diluc shook his head. "... Another pay raise– Maybe I should stop calling you Dove and start calling you Mora from now on."

"Bold of you to assume I'd hate that."

"... Why are you my best friend, again? Anyways, do you have your purse?"

"Yes, I d–..." You ferreted your handbag. "–on't. No, no I don't– shit."

 "Of course, you forgot. Never mind, just stay close to me. Don't be obliged to drink anything even if they're pressuring you to. If you ever need to go home, I'll pay for the taxi." 

Diluc grabbed your hand and walked towards the venue. You looked down. His hands were warm– or maybe it was your own temperature you were sensing. One of Kaeya life's missions was to make you painfully aware that both your hands could melt an ice cube in under twenty seconds, so you're not too sure who's warm.

"...Is something wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, it's nothing." You laughed. "I was just thinking that you're such a green flag, that's all."

His grip tensed up and he looked the other way. Is it just you or is he getting warmer? Diluc ran his free hand through his hair. He looked frustrated.

"How can I get over you when you're like this?"

"Diluc...?"

"Forget the event," Diluc said, stopping you both from entering. "Let's just head to my place."

What?!

"Hah?!" Canceling plans is usually the best feeling on earth but in this instance, it left you absolutely baffled.

"Wait here, I'll just make a call."

"Hey, Diluc, wait–"

—-------

[Ten missed calls from "Ajax."]

[Received 1 voicemail.]

"Diluc, I had a chat with Venti's producer earlier. Is it true that you're the one who sent death threats to stop the 5wirl and ADDICKTZ collab? Kinda hard to believe you'd go through such lengths– and REAALLL low for you to drop a week's work on everyone, comrade!"

"I don't get what your motives are either... Is it because of (Y/n)? C'mon, we both know they wouldn't like you as much as the Dove likes Kazuha. I'm sorry but you HAVE to accept that. Even if you wiretap their house and obsess so much about them that opportunity is just not gonna hap–"

[Delete.]

[Calling Ajax…]

"Tartaglia."

"Well, well. That's not a good opener. Are you gonna get your ass over and help us out? The fuck is up with this paperwork– why are we even helping the CEO's assistant write reports?!"

"No, actually, I need your help with something…"

*sigh* "Motherfucker. Alright, spill. What do you want?"

"I don't want to hurt them– God, I can't imagine myself doing something like that when they look this pretty tonight. Ajax, I beg you, you're the only one that can help me with this. How can I knock someone unconscious without using blunt force?"

"..."

"..."

"... Diluc, holy shit, what on earth are you planning?" 

Ansytea: huhu i hope your husband won't kill me– THANK YOU FOR JOINING THE 1K EVENT DOVE ANON!!! (This is still so surreal i cant believe i got permission to write abt you. most of us probably already know who this is anyways so dhjskwksoa happy 12k followers to you too!!!!)

#tag: yan!1k idol event #yandere diluc #yandere diluc x reader #yandere diluc ragnvindr #yandere diluc ragnvindr x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin fanfiction #yandere male #yandere fanfiction #🕊️ anon #ansy-writes

[ranticore]

Settling Siren, the deep dream, and dream rot

This is something I can't present with accompanying art so I will present it with accompanying prose, from an anonymous archaeologist's research paper on the mechanism by which the very first human on Siren was 'born'. I wrote a whole bunch like this and I'd like to share it some day as a type of web serial thing, following two parallel in-universe stories separated by thousands of years (the story of Ishmael, the first human born on Siren, and the story of the archaeologist uncovering the past who was forced into hiding and had to publish this stuff anonymously) but it's early stages for now.

But one bit of the world that I'm happy with is the dream & delayed birth, a way to grow a human during long space voyages so that they can be old enough to work (or study, in this case) when the voyage is over. This means they grow up in a false reality, and may only take their first breaths when they're years old. More valuable humans just get cryogenically frozen and don't age, creating a two-tiered system. Anyway the writing below explains it better than I can, check it out

The Lonely Sailor was owned by Atom GeneWeave and would carry a cargo container full of fertilised Human eggs to the new world. These were known as embryos and were mostly held in a frozen state, but there were twenty of them which were not frozen. They were placed in false amniotic sacs and allowed to continue growing throughout the entire voyage of The Lonely Sailor, even though the adult Humans themselves would be frozen, too.

Dan Lorvis slotted his first viable attempt at life into the cargo hold last, knowing that it would be the first to wake. He used a computer machine called a Deep Dreamer to monitor the growing life, and encoded within it an operation called ‘Athletic_Boy_Childhood_03.deepdr‘. He wrote on the amniotic sac the name of his creation: Ishmael 1© property of ATOM GENEWEAVE®.

Dan Lorvis then settled himself into a sleeping chamber which would freeze him harmlessly for the duration of the voyage.

The journey from Ceti to Siren would take seven years. Ishmael grew from fertilised egg to embryo and then became a baby in the normal period of time that these things take. But he was not born then. He remained asleep, dreaming that he was living a Human childhood.

Contemporary scholars such as ourselves can only guess at what he dreamed of, as the memory encoded into him was designed to fade, leaving behind only the lessons that Atom felt were necessary for him to learn, to function normally and not emerge from the seven year journey in a feral state. He learned how to speak, how to read and write, all without ever having taken a single breath. When he was old enough, he moved his body as though he were engaging in games of chase and team sports, and this allowed his muscles to develop.

(...)

The embryo cargo pod was offloaded thirty-nine days after landing on Siren, still in the first year. Five days later, Ishmael’s amniotic sac was drained, and his deep dream interrupted by his birth.

The last moment of his encoded dream was common to all artificial dreams, designed to ease the transition into true waking life. He was falling asleep in his bed (an archaic sort of bower), his body feeling tired but satisfied after a day of typical, perfectly generic childhood games. He had something called a mother in this dream who pulled the blankets around his shoulders and kissed him as he drifted off, though he did not remember what their face looked like, only that they instilled within him a sense of perfect safety.

His moment of calm was soon eaten by sensation. It was cold, he realised. Colder than anything he had ever felt. The fluid that had supported him at a constant temperature for seven years was draining away and he reached out, to grab at the blanket he half-remembered. His nerves were alight with new sensations and the world was so bright it felt that he was staring into Odr’s eye.

Dan Lorvis described Ishmael as strong and healthy, but he didn’t feel that way. Everything was loud and bright and his body was so heavy. He had never truly experienced gravity, but that alone did not account for the disconnect. His dream had been the dream of a Precursor Human, a bipedal creature with a fully upright stance, straighter even than a shortwing’s, with no tail, no flippers, no phocid morphology. To the newborn Ishmael’s mind, he had just undergone a horrifying transformation, and his body was wrong.

(...)

Cherta, who gave their name to the wandering moon, was the fifth born beta phocid. There is very little to distinguish Cherta from the rest of the group, at this early stage, but I have on file their original description - “‘Cherta’, named for a sponsor of the project who donated three million nua*. Unisex ‘phocid’ of the Beta generation. Born age 10 years and 5 months, in [Year 3]. Melanistic colouring was chosen as protection against solar radiation, but it is expressed in heterogenous patches with a strong dorsal stripe. Length 5’1 nose to tailtip at time of birth and weight 54kg. Unusually violent birth, needed sedation.” In fact, Cherta assaulted Dan Loris’s assistants as they were born, reacting to the event as though it were an invasion of the bedroom of their dream. It was by all accounts an auspicious start compared to the others, and perhaps an indication that Cherta’s experience with the deep dream was not standard.

Cherta had fallen victim to another rare phenomenon of the incubator, referred to by Dan Loris as ‘dream rot’. This occurrence is a result of differences in the receiving brain, rather than the dream machine itself. The brain begins to understand, in some form, that what it is witnessing is not reality, and the structure of the dream begins to unravel.

At the time of Cherta’s delayed birth, the dream had been in the early stages of this process. If allowed to continue for too long, permanent damage to the psyche’s ability to judge reality is the result. Cherta would be haunted by this for the remainder of their life and suffer from regular seizures that severely reduced their ability to swim like any other phocid, but it was not severe enough to significantly alter their treatment compared to the other beta phocids.

#writing is my passion. and my burden #if you would like to see the genetically altered humans of siren i believe my reference sheets are publicly accessible on patreon #in the siren tag #setting: siren