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satoruxx · 5 months

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NORTHERN LIGHTS.

✧ PAIRING: kaeya alberich x fem!reader | 4.5k words

✧ SUMMARY: smut, p -> v, praise, fingering, lots of pining, angst, angsty bc it’s kaeya tbh lol, kaeya lore but it’s vague, also military themes bc sometimes we forget kaeya is a captain and i love the knights of favonius, he’s highkey got commitment issues but i think he’s valid, man is whipped tho, he's just an overthinker and traumatized, also can you tell i’m a med student?

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: first i have to apologize bc this is SO late??? i got this request back for my 200 event, asking for kaeya with the song northern lights by kennie (which is such a good song). at first i was gonna make it a short little drabble, but the more i wrote, the more i wanted to make it a full fic, which is what ended up happening. kaeya's character has so much depth and i wanted to explore it hehe. northern lights is such a fitting song for him so i just had to go all in. but i'm so sorry that i got to your request so late, hopefully you still enjoy it lovely! (even tho it’s not the main focus in this fic, this is technically my first real smut fic so take it with a grain of salt; i don't think i write it that well LMAO)

it was rare to truly know your own weaknesses, but kaeya knew his a little too well. behind his carefree, unbothered exterior he cared a little too much. he cares a little too much when klee tugs on his fur cape and whines about a scolding she’s gotten from jean, and he ends up indulging her with whatever she’d like. he cares a little too much when rosaria spills just a tad more than usual during her drunken ramblings. he cares a little too much when he sees the discomfort in the face of certain fiery bartender as they speak, and he consistently lies awake and remembers days when that discomfort between them didn’t exist.

it’s a curse, he thinks, because he always ends up feeling too attached to people he knows he shouldn’t be attached to.

even now, his weakness is acting up as he barks orders to his soldiers. they scramble around him as they enter the city, carrying their wounded brethren to safety up at the cathedral. kaeya knows he shouldn’t blame himself but as their captain he feels like he should’ve seen this coming. new recruits wouldn’t be able to handle the hordes of monsters at daduapa gorge—he miscalculated.

“take them to the sisters at the cathedral. sister barbara and the others should be able to heal them,” kaeya commands, clasping one of the men’s shoulders and helping him up to the church. he’s ignoring the now dull throbbing in his side as blood stains his clothes—his soldiers were most important right now. like he said, he cared a little too much.

the nurses had set up a medical station at the cathedral, and in between all the commotion, kaeya’s finally able to hand over the groaning soldier to a nurse, who immediately gets to work.

he then takes a few steps back to assess the damage, grateful that all of his soldiers are getting the attention they needed. he’d hate himself if there were any losses today.

he doesn’t even realize that he’s now leaning against the wall, panting shallowly as blood continues to pour from his abdomen. oh well, he’d wait his turn—only after his soldiers were taken care of.

kaeya shuts his eyes, letting his body rest for a minute.

“you’re wounded.”

his eyes shoot open to see you standing in front of him. he assumes you’re not one of the nuns because your clothes are entirely different. you’re young, appearing to be around his age as you eye his torso critically.

“it appears so,” he answers.

“did someone take a look at you yet?”

“i’d prefer all my soldiers be taken care of first.”

your eyes flash with recognition. “so you’re captain kaeya?”

“indeed i am.” he lets his eyes roam over your concerned features.

you give him a small smile before continuing with a sigh. “i can safely tell you that all the wounded are being treated. i’m still an apprentice so i’m only here to deal with the non fatal injuries. like yours, captain.” you crouch down in front of him, fingers reaching towards his clothing with a silent question of permission. he lets his hand slacken as he gives you a nod and you attempt to peel back as many layers as you can to asses the damage before you’re motioning him towards a tent.

a few minutes later and kaeya is letting you strip his torso bare until you have a full view of his injury. your fingers brush over the wounded skin gently, and he wonders if you even touched him at all. “it’s long, but not too deep. a few stitches and you should be alright. if you’re okay with it, i’ll get started,” you tell him.

kaeya wants to tell you that he’s no stranger to the pain of injuries, but he finds something oddly refreshing about your comforting attitude, so he just says yes and lets you begin to work.

you thread through the skin with a delicate hand and despite the sting he honestly can’t even focus on it, choosing instead to analyze your features.

he realizes that you’re awfully pretty.

kaeya makes small talk with you as you work, partly to stay awake through the pain and mostly because he can’t stop his curiosity. he finds out your name, your hobbies, your goals. you may not have the most exciting life but kaeya thinks there’s something so alluring about you it makes him a little dizzy. he's not sure what it is, but he thinks about it the whole time you tend to his wound. realization hits when you finally finish, looking up at him with a smile, and kaeya realizes that your eyes hold the stars in them.

it’s hard to explain but when kaeya watches you work, nose scrunching in the dim lighting of the tent, he thinks you remind him of home.

(kaeya has chased the stars for as long as he can remember. he remembers shouting with diluc in the grass behind the winery, the two of them reaching for celestia because the stars up there were so undeniably pretty.

"we're never gonna get them!" diluc would laugh, trying hard to balance kaeya on his little shoulders. "they're too far…"

and kaeya only grins down at him toothily, raising his fists to the sky. "no way! i'll catch them one day!"

and yet his whole childhood went by without being able to capture the stars. as he grew older he started to learn that it was impossible to steal what the sky so selfishly held on to.

but even as an adult, kaeya knows to appreciate the stars when he gets the privilege to see them in the sky.

especially after he finally seems to find them in the dim glow of a medical tent.)

he hates to admit how often his eyes seek you out after that one encounter. sometimes he’ll see you at the cat's tail, giggling with your friends as you slam tcg cards down on the table triumphantly. other times he’ll catch a glimpse of you at good hunter, chewing on a quick meal as you browse through a book. almost every time he gets caught staring you only smile and offer him a little wave that sends his brain into a frenzy.

(maybe in another life kaeya would allow himself the luxury. he’d let himself go through the motions for you. let himself stress every time you threw a glance his way. work up the courage to ask you out on saturday afternoon. finally get the chance to press his lips to yours. trace your skin with nimble fingers and have the privilege to call you his.

in another life maybe.

but for now he’ll just keep you his own little secret—a guilty pleasure he’ll indulge in because it’s hard to rid an addiction, especially if you don’t have the will to rid it in the first place.)

kaeya’s messed up this summer. he knows it in his soul that he’s made the wrong decision as he watches you babble about something as you lean against his bare chest, still basking in your own afterglow.

he knows that he should have resisted the temptation. as soon as he and the troops got back and he saw you sitting in a secluded corner at angel’s share he knew that his feelings for you hadn’t dissolved.

they say absence makes the heart grow fonder and kaeya only now knows this to be true because just the sight of you sends his mind into a frenzy. you could probably feel his gaze on you because you look up from the book you’re reading and make straight eye contact with him. for a second, he wants to turn away but then you smile at kaeya like you’ve never once forgotten him, and he’s putty. before he knows it, he’s buying you a drink and walking over to your little corner to make himself comfortable.

it’s a slow descent for him because in his head he knows he shouldn’t get too attached. he’ll leave again soon with the troops, and who knows maybe he’ll leave them behind one day too. his future has always looked so clouded to him, and he knows you belong in the sun. he’d like to leave you there in the light—avoid dragging you into his darkness.

so he tries to keep it simple, occasionally meeting you for a drink or catching up around the city. but then you’re showing him your favorite place to study near starfell lake and he’s showing you his favorite stars while laying on his back on starsnatch cliff. and he knows he can’t avoid it.

soon enough he’s giving into everything he said he wouldn’t, finally finding out what you taste like. finally knowing how his name sounds when it falls from your lips.

it's more addicting than he could've predicted, the feeling of your breath against his skin as you pant out his name. kaeya can't even bring himself to pull away from you to stop and think for a second. if he did then maybe he could slap some sense into himself and draw some distance because archons above he was digging himself deeper into this hole. but he can't, not when you're gripping his shoulders as he presses you against the wall of his bedroom, whining into his lips for all that he can give you.

and kaeya is nothing if not generous.

so he indulges both you and himself—the perfect mix of selfless and selfish as he guides you to his bed, nimble fingers loosening the ties of your clothing until you're bare in front of him. he can see the bashfulness settling into your cheeks and he almost feels like goading for just a minute, but he decides he'll be nice.

you've always deserved a nice guy anyway.

he tries to push that thought away, instead distracting himself with the heat of your body, his fingers dancing along your skin eagerly. maybe, just this one night, he can let it be about you two. he can afford to forget about all the old promises he's made—all the responsibilities and duties he devoted himself to a lifetime ago.

kaeya ignores the flush of heat crawling up his neck as he hovers over you, caging your body underneath his as you squirm in anticipation. he understands—the tightness in his pants is enough for him to feel the same. but he's not worried about that, not when his fingers part your thighs eagerly, brushing over heated skin and finding slick wetness there as he dips into your cunt. he hears the sharp intake of breath, the quiet restrained moan, and he preens. kaeya revels in the sounds he pulls from your lips as his fingers curl against your slick heat, your head lolling back against his pillows.

there's a possessive streak of something that cuts through him then—something that tells him how he aches to be the only one who gets to hear those sounds.

it makes him slightly sick.

kaeya realizes then—he's been quite stupid when it comes to you. he's kept the maelstrom of feelings brewing in his soul trapped under all his bravado, arrogant and cowardly all at once. he needs to tell you, needs to be honest because this isn't something he can trick his way out of.

but all he wants to do is run. run so far away from you because he doesn't want you to to get caught up in his own ruin. you're far too good for him, too sweet and carefree to be tainted by his sin-laden hands. he needs to run.

but he does none of that, not when he's guiding his fingers to the apex of your thighs and exploring territory he knows he shouldn't claim. because then you look at him with an expression so blissful—so thankful, relieved that he's giving you a part of himself he never wanted to—and he can't even be angry about it.

kaeya presses his lips to the swell of your chest, feeling the rapid thumping of your heart under your skin, and he shuts his eyes as he breathes out your name. you answer with a resounding mewl, catching his eyes even through the dark strands of his hair.

he then chooses to focus on pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt because archons do you look heavenly when your eyes roll back like that.

but it scares him, the way you leave him open and exposed and aching even when he doesn't want to be.

in his head you're perfect, all bright and glowing under him as you chant his name like he's some kind of savior. but kaeya isn't a savior—if anything he's destruction in human form, sent by the heavens to wreak havoc on those around him. he'd destroyed enough already—he doesn't think he can do it to you too.

but archons the way you're looking at him now, from under fluttering lashes and dewy eyes that shine even brighter when they're trained on him—begging, pleading, and oh so trusting of him and every thing he wants to give you. he can't even help himself.

"i know, sweet girl," he sighs, voice strained as you buck your hips just perfect—a temptress, sent to lead him to his doom. and yet he can't stop his fingers from pushing back your hair from your sweaty skin, knowing that he should be careful because he doesn't want to destroy something as fragile as this.

"kaeya please," your breath comes out in short desperate pants, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders haphazardly.

"i know," he repeats, reaching down to heft your thigh over his waist as he slots his hips against your own, biting back a groan at the sensitive brush against his cock—throbbing, aching, needy.

"ah fuck," he's almost shy at the way his voice shakes as he lines his cock up, the heat and slickness of your cunt a teasing caress against his sensitive head. he drops his forehead against your shoulder, breathing heavily even before he's inside you because something about this makes him so incredibly nervous. a single desperate whine and the soft squeeze of your fingers into his biceps and he's stilling—breath catching, heart pounding.

for a moment, he doesn't even feel like himself. he's not anything, no one.

and then he slides in and kaeya knows that there will never be anything better—another experience that would feel this right in his life.

he pulls out a little, gaze lingering at the sweat beading at your forehead, and something in his chest stutters. "okay?" he traces your face for any hint of hesitation—of the nervousness that he feels in his gut, but all he finds is a stormy mix of desire and devotion.

"uh huh," reassurance, stability—everything he isn't. his brows pinch, eyes shutting because he doesn't want you to know.

he's pulled out of the whirlwind that is his thoughts when he feels your fingers on his cheek, brushing over his skin gently. his eyes snap open, and even through the haze he can feel himself relaxing under your touch, because the way you're looking at him is so undeniably loving and it makes his stomach flip.

"you okay?" you whisper, looking up at him carefully, and kaeya feels as though you've put him between the halves of a microscope slide to analyze him.

"i'm fine," he breathes out, not a lie but not the whole truth either. "don't worry."

his words do little to quell you, but one roll of his hips has your eyes fluttering, a choked moan escaping your throat, and the sound makes his pride sing.

there's an image then—hazy and yet so obvious as his brain registers it. the implications behind it makes his stomach churn.

quiet smiles, hazy kisses, soft goodbyes—and then the inevitable distance as he crosses over the border separating your world from his. a lone figure standing in the streets of mondstadt, always waiting for him to come back. always disappointed.

you buck your hips upward, blissfully unaware of the torrent of conflicting emotions in his head. kaeya's brain short-circuits, and then he's pushing back, a steady rhythm against your gummy walls that takes the breath out of your lungs. you savor every thrust, punctuated by the sharp grunts he lets out against your throat.

your fingers rake over his back, desperate and needy and focused on one thing only—kaeya, kaeya, kaeya.

"that's it sweetheart," he doesn't have any more control—not on his mind, his body, his mouth. they've all escaped his grasp, too spurred on by you and everything you're willing to offer him.

"'s okay…ah fuck…it's okay," kaeya groans into the column of your throat, not sure whether he's telling you or himself. the clench of your walls sends him spiraling, hips picking up the pace as he pistons his cock in and out—trying to find out just how far he can go.

then he hits one spot, and his vigilant gaze catches the way your jaw slackens, eyes glazing over even as they roll back and a shaky moan escapes your throat—surprised, unexpecting. his ego jumps.

an experimental roll of his hips against the same spot and you make a sound so unhinged that he finds himself already addicted to it. and to tease is in his nature.

"yeah? right there?" he drawls, masking his anxiousness with his bravado once again.

"right there," you whimper, nodding meekly as you grip his shoulders. he huffs out a soft laugh, pressing a gentle kiss to your eyelids like he's trying to kiss away the tears that have gathered there. you preen under his ministrations—it feels a little too domestic.

he understands. it scares him, but he understands. he wonders what the point of worrying is—wonders why he's letting his paranoid brain taint this moment that he'd been waiting for. the only solution left is to ignore it. because you're here, writhing underneath him in the throes of pleasure, vulnerable and trusting and just for him. he should give you what you deserve after all.

so kaeya pushes every other thought out of his head, only focused on you and making you feel good because that's what someone like you deserves—everything you desire laid at your feet.

he presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, paired with a languid roll of his hips as he quietly groans. "okay…." his voice comes out an octave lower, pushed down by the barely concealed need for you. "okay sweet girl. i've got you."

another searing kiss as he breathes through his nose, picking up the pace again as he slams his cock into the spot that makes you see stars. your moans get louder even as they remain muffled against his lips, and kaeya can't help but dig his fingers into the meat of your thigh, leaving behind finger shaped dents in the plushy skin.

a claim—possessive, desperate, selfish.

your kisses become sloppier as kaeya leads you closer to the edge, walls clenching around the length of him, tighter with every thrust he delivers. the chants of his name have become almost reverent, and kaeya thinks his name couldn't possibly sound more beautiful than in that moment. he wonders if he could be blessed to hear it for the remainder of his life, and the thought sends pure unadulterated need through him.

his hips stutter, red hot fire coursing through his chilled veins—building, climbing, overwhelming as every sense goes fuzzy with heat. his grunts become more irregular, in time with the reckless thrusts of his cock as your cunt tightens around him greedily.

his cock twitches as you suck him in eagerly, feeling every ridge and vein as he grunts and groans and tightens his hold on you—unyielding, unrelenting, selfish.

your eyes stay locked on his even as your orgasm rips through you, and kaeya sees celestia in them—brighter than ever before. your muscles spasm, clenching almost painfully as you tremble and writhe underneath him, and he follows you to the doorstep of nirvana with a throaty groan. his hips stutter, twitching and throbbing as he pants out a broken chorus of your name and every praise that doesn't do you justice.

then he drops his forehead against yours, watching your eyelids flutter—celestial stars dim. a soft brush of your lips against his.

your muscles go lax, every guard dropped just for him—trust he realizes, trust he doesn't deserve. he doesn't know how to tell you that.

because even after everything—when you're curled up against his chest, skin warm and dewy against his own, he does not think about how he adores the feeling of your hair brushing against his arm, nor does he focus on the soft tickle of your breathing washing over him. instead he thinks about how he's ruined it all, how he's dragged you into him, and how he needs to let you go before he destroys you completely.

at the end of the summer, kaeya tells you he can’t.

“what are you talking about?” you ask him, a light chuckle escaping your lips as you barely focus on his words. your nose is buried in some medical text, and kaeya thinks that the universe is punishing him now by making him repeat himself.

“us. we shouldn’t have…” he sighs, shoulders dropping. “i mean, we should stop…seeing each other.”

he can practically feel the way his words pull your attention and when he looks up he sees the way your grip on the book has slackened. there’s panic settling in your eyes, mixed with a bit of confusion. a conflicted emotion runs across your face and kaeya’s fingers itch to touch you. “w-why?”

it’s a simple question and he should have no problem answering it, but he struggles to get the words out, his throat constricting uncomfortably. “it was fine in the summer, when i was back here with the troops. but now i’ll have to leave and-“

“so what?” you question, turning in your seat to face him completely. his eyes drop to the shirt you’re wearing, his shirt, and he feels his heart squeezing.

“so-“ he gulps, head spinning as he tries to explain himself. he doesn’t even have a proper answer—he just knows that this is his only option. because there’s no way in hell he deserves this kind of comfort, this kind of happiness. “so i cant-“

“can’t what, kaeya?” you stress, voice going slightly higher and he only then sees the real fear in your expression.

he pauses, mulling over his words and the bitter taste they’re leaving in his mouth. he can feel the sting of your pleading stare, and he swallows hard. “can’t stay,” he finally answers, and he’s shocked at how miserable he sounds.

you look at him like he’s insane, and honestly he feels like he might be. you’re confused and rightfully so, because there are so many remnants of him left in your space, so clearly evident the impact he’s left on you.

“can’t or won’t?”

kaeya’s eyes snap up to yours, because the tremor in your voice sends a jolt of fear down to his stomach, churning and roiling until it makes him sick.

he regrets looking, because he can feel himself breaking then and there.

you’re looking at him with these shining eyes and he swears that he’s glimpses them again—the brightest stars he’s ever had the privilege of seeing. for a second he thinks the light of those stars might disappear because that’s what always happens. but they remain, glowing against the backdrop of your irises and he’s captivated all over again.

his plans to leave you in tears fly out the window then and there.

he’s reaching for your cheeks in less than a second, holding them delicately as he lets his thumbs brush over your teary lashes. there’s a reasonable bit of confusion in your face at his sudden change, but when he leans down to kiss you, you don’t protest, melting into him even though he’s so undeniably cold. kaeya doesn’t even realize he’s saying he loves you, choosing to murmur it against your lips because it’s not meant for anyone else to hear—just the two of you.

he remains there, in the quiet darkness of your room for the rest of the night, because he doesn’t want to leave your side even after he told himself he would.

and yes, he dreads tomorrow. he dreads tomorrow because he knows that he will have to choose between the comfortable home he’s found in you or the dark abyss that has swallowed his past.

he’s scared that the more he allows himself to fall into you, and the more he finds that your eyes are the ones that hold the stars of celestia, then the easier his choice will become.

he’s been chasing the stars for so long after all. now that he finally has them, why in teyvat would he let them go?

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blueiight · 5 months

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in the book, i think paul’s death , the frenieres and their connection via slavery are more important mortals to book louis than his sister or mother. they both remain unnamed figures, tertiary symbols for how immortality and time strip u away from the mortal sphere. we have kalyne’s acting and the show to thank for making her a complex character.

the show elevates the entire du lac family dynamic imo, paul’s one-dimensional fanaticism becomes a compelling sort of religious psychosis - a mad black man clinging to faith in a world that gave him very few other options. the ‘asylum in jackson’ at their time was a segregated facility that made their patients build the infrastructure themselves. the last sunrise book louis saw of his sleeping sister becomes the last sunrise show louis saw - his younger brother killing himself the morning after his sister’s wedding.

paul is also an introduction for the ‘roles louis (and paul, who is unable to) has to play’. unable to mask, paul propositions a lady of the night with the word of god. louis, who ‘did not want to draw a knife on [his] brother, but couldnt afford to look weak on liberty’, threatens paul. lestat is seduced not by the act alone, but the tempest in louis’s mind as he commits it. it is paul’s suicide that is the last time louis sees the sunrise, and grace + florence’s subsequent responses to it that drive louis in the drunken haze he was in before/while being turned. with the loss of paul, louis is the sole ‘aberration’ of their family while grace is the ‘good sister’ as kalyne coleman worded it.

grace’s arc in the show is rendered a fascinating parallel to louis’s. as pointed out in many gifsets + the like, grace is married proper while louis has a bloody vow of immortality in st. augustine’s. also grace, whos able to be properly married with children of her own, her expected role as a (cis) woman of her age, v. louis, whos rendered an immortal placee, who nearly eats his own nephew and weeps bc he cannot have ‘children of his own’ (unlike grace, is whats unsaid).

he desires to have a family to complete his companionship, and also to be in an ‘aberrant’ role for a man of his age. louis, in his adoption of claudia in the next episode, then brings her to the first time to his mother’s funeral, with a ‘family of his own’ to protect him from his mortal family’s dispute.

grace is also rendered a sort of babette here, as a mortal observer to louis’s immortality, who watches him be gradually removed from their day, and ends up parting with louis on vaguely similar notes - fear of the devil in louis.

but where babette was terrified of book louis (& lestat, though she gave no indication of knowing they were both there) bc of his oppressive hunting of the people in his capture, bc louis+ lestat were threatening her for a way to escape to new orleans; grace in the show was burying the memory of the brother she once had, lost to the abstract devil that is immortality. its a coda, a sequel of sorts to the confrontation at the du lac mansion in episode 3, where florence calls louis the devil. grace buries louis with him standing there. the makeup is dubious, but grace is meant to be older as indicated by her attire + dialogue (“prayed myself old thinkin bout u”). babette’s departure from the narrative segways claudia’s entry, but in the show, grace’s departure from the narrative marks a turning point for claudia and louis. claudia watching louis weep over his own grave makes her believe she was ‘made to be louis’s sister’, and louis losing his last mortal connection marks a turning point that opens him for further abuse that very episode ends on.

all of this is to say this is an extremely compelling depiction of siblinghood, and how love can be lost and/or estranged between family.

#yn.#iwtv #tvc #louis de pointe du lac #grace de pointe du lac #paul de pointe du lac #claudia #☀️

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stackslip · 2 months

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CAN YOU ELABORATE ON TLT BEING A HOMESTUCK FANFIC‽‽‽‽‽

i'm exaggerating a bit, but taz muir was a well known homestuck writer who wrote under the username urbanAnchorite. her fic the serendipity gospels is one of my fave fics ever, but was never finished and it's only by book 2 of tlt that i figured that the clear allusions to it in book 1 weren't just cute little nods but that she'd expanded on some of the ideas/concepts and worldbuilding of the serendipity gospels. to name a few:

the ninth house cult is heavily based on the juggalo church muir wrote/expanded upon in TSG, from face paint to the rituals and a lot of the accompanying prose

act 2 of TSG takes place mainly in a spaceship that serves as "cathedral" of the juggalo cult, and is described to be covered in bones that have been painted in many colors--which is close to the description of the mithraeum

act 2 also features the two main characters being much younger people mentored/manipulated into horrible acts by an old man who is thousands of years old and bickering with his other thousand year old friends/enemies, who seem to share knowledge and understanding that neither the two protagonists do but also deeply resent one another. hard to not read a parallel to john and the lyctors here!

to elaborate on this bc i just realized it: it is heavily implied in TSG that the dancestors (older people thousands of years old) went through a universe reset and built the empire in the image of their own trauma and anger, which would v much parallel what happens to john on earth and how he "reset" humanity

less of a homestuck thing and more of a taz muir thing: said old man is v much grooming the main female character and making her life miserable during the entirety of act 2

a lot of the story takes place in the background of the trolls' empire being a horrific imperialist force that the main characters were originally very excited to join and become a part of, with one of these characters in particular daydreaming about becoming ground troop for invasion while also holding a terrible secret that would have precluded him of doing so anyway. p neat parallel to gideon's own thing here

act 1 and act 2 of TSG are from two different pov characters, with a drastic shift in prose style and understanding of the situation/world when the pov shifts. which v much echoes how tlt has worked so far. part 3 was barely started before it went on hiatus, but it followed the same pattern.

speaking of, the prose of act 2 of TSG definitely feels very close to harrow the ninth's prose. you can just open the fic and check the first chapter of act 2 and how it's written, and you'll see what i mean. there are differences--the prose of TSG act 2 is more inflected with southern usamerican evangelical speak, i think? i'm not american so i can't quite 200% tell

there is an external armed resistance to the empire's violent imperialism and resistance that was supposed to be the focus in act 3 of TSG, which never happened. nona the ninth did, though, and it follows that structure.

there are also eldritch horrors that threaten the entire universe--homestuck's own horrorterrors--that are in the background of TSG and implied to be an important part of the future plot that we never saw. tlt has the ressurrection beasts

taz muir's worldbuilding around the blood castes in og homestuck that she elaborates on in TSG also somewhat parallels the way the houses function in tlt

iirc there's also worldbuilding around space travel in tlt (such as the obelisks? i think that's the name? and the use of necromancy to power them) that parallels taz muir's own take on how space travel works in the troll empire, using psionics and draining them dry in a similar way

i think the necro-cav relationship 'ideal' is based around how taz also interpreted moirallegiance in not just TSG but all her homestuck fics, down to how its legal implementation and the idealization of it vs its role in troll/houses imperialism and the reality of blurred lines in "expected" relationships. i'd love to hear taz's discourse on troll romance

i also think the necro-cav relationship parallels the other legal pairing explored in TSG--legislacerator and subjugglator.

there are probably more parallels i am missing--i need to reread TSG soon, as i haven't in a while. there are elements i'd say are more like, how taz herself elaborated on the bones of the worldbuilding of homestuck and then made it her own thing, which is rad as hell. other elements are more fun nods, such as gideon's aviator glasses being shamelessly stolen from dave homestuck, and a lot of gtn's prose feeling very homestuckey. it's def not like, just a little rewrite and boom, you get the locked tomb! imo it's more elements of plot and worldbuilding that were interesting enough to develop into something of its own and that taz made into something new, along with other elements of other stories (such as lolita and umineko) being woven into it. part of why i enjoy tlt so much is its "collage" aspect, taking elements taz thought interesting in other stories, or using these elements to purposefully evoke specific feelings/moods to construct or obsfucate certain ideas.

#eli talks #tlt #homestuck

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agneswarda · 1 month

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golden girls is so amazing i even made a powerpoint

(I copy-pasted the main text under the cut. unfortunately, I can't find the time for a proper alt text. life is stressful rn)

-Picture it: Miami, late 80s/early 90s. four 60+ women

-living together.

-Sure, they talk a lot about (straight) sex

-but what we see on screen is their dynamic. Their deep friendship. Their love also they often act quite gay with eachother. amazing

-Did i mention they are old. They are old and deal with getting sick and aging. A lot.

-But their life isn‘t over. They might not be related. But they are family, and they are here for each other

-These four women are the Golden Girls.

-You are in for a treat. A 7 seasons 25 episodes long treat

Introducing the girls: Dorothy Zbornak

-not to be a lesbian but omg

-Tall soft butch

-quick-witted

-sarcastic

-her voice *swoons*

-would make numbers on tumblr

-> her idea of a good time is being Alone wiht a book in her room

-> Huge dorky nerd

- Being vulnerable is not her strength but when she is It‘s amazing. Soft. makes me cry

Introducing the girls: Blanche Devereaux

-slutty

-sexy

-selfish

-sensitive

-Sensual

-Did i mention slutty

-And proud of it

-All these things are her strenghts as well as her weaknesses

-She is actually quite complex

Introducing the girls: Rose Nylund

-Sweet

-Loving

-Kind

-caring

-Everyone says she‘s Dumb

-I think she might just Be neurodivergent?!??!!!! With her special interest

-Being St. Olaf

-The place she comes from

-Has amazing st olaf stories for everything

-Can also be a judgy bitch sometimes

Introducing the girls: Sophia Petrillo

-SHE WOULD MAKE NUMBERS ON TUMBLR

-„You're a funny little gnome, and we feed you too much.”

-This quote describes her perfectly

-It’s Dorothy who says it to her

-Who is incidentally her daughter

-Trickster energy

-Don‘t know if she is gay. But she commits crimes

-It‘s her way of dealing with old age

-And all the limitations it brings

-The show would just be half as funny without her

But op. Is it really this good. It‘s so old

I will admit: not everything aged well. Be also prepared for:

-it‘s v white. If they have characters of color, they sometimes work well. And sometimes it‘s embarassing to watch bc harmful stereotypes (not often but yeah. It happens.)

-Bodyshaming: the girls tease each other about their height, weight etc. and sometimes it can really become a lot/too much.

-Rose is so often the butt of the joke for not understanding situations. I think a lot of neurodivergent folks can relate. And it can hurt to hear the same old mean comments again and again

BUT

-This is a series which was never afraid of complicated topics

-First and foremost: the queer advocacy and topics were and still are amazing. The found family of it all alone.

-Also: death,being sick, being disabled. Getting old. Not performing the gender The way one would like to (anymore) (so. yes. Dysphoria. In a way). The financial aspect of it all. These are important topics which are treated with humor (of course) but also with respect

-it‘s a kind show which has its heart in the right place

-And i mean

-4 old women who are „just“ friends living together, supporting eachother?

-That shit is still revolutionary in the year of our lord 2024

So give it a chance!!!!11!!!!!111

#i did this instead of going to sleep :')#so honor my sacrifice by watching the show <3 #golden girls #dorothy zbornak #blanche devereaux #rose nylund #sophia petrillo #to watch #show recommendations #bea arthur #rue mcclanahan #betty white #estelle getty #television #80s tv #queer shows #queer icons #power point

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ofbreathandflame · 9 months

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feyre 'stans' (*cough* feysand stans) have such an interesting relationship with feyre - where, they can't decide whether to view feyre as a full-fledged adult or little more than a child. bc its like - if you always view feyre as a victim of her circumstances, then she's not an active, morally ambiguous character. or - they don't actually view her as an actual character, rather, an easy extension of rhys that can be projected into. im inspired by this video again, and specifically the discussions about rhysand's ability to see feyre as an equal - or even just an individual person.

like in the case of silver flames, feyre 'stans' often try to validate rhysand's actions, by affirming that he's 'just standing up for feyre..'

and you could argue that - but feyre has already established on multiple occasions that she feels uncomfortable with the way rhys decides to 'stand-up' for her in regards to her sisters. and when confronted with this - rhysand immediately assumes that feyre will (1) forgive him and (2) have sex with him. its a moment of complete insanity - where rhysand doesn't even believe that his constant lack of boundary actually entails serious consequences. thats not a man whose actually concerned abt feyre's opinions, or actually hurting feyre. he'd rather openly trigger feyre at that dinner table, then actually respect and take a step back. but to argue that rhysand's behavior is okay even when feyre doesn't believe means that you guys don't actually view her decisions to be confidently her own. bc the emphasis is always geared towards validating the actions rhysand takes, and not feyre's opinions on the matter. there's a difference between giving feyre this 'power' and giving feyre the tools and information needed to actually wield that power. there's a difference between rhys disliking nesta or elain treating them as he sees fit v. rhys disliking nesta, but giving feyre the space she needs to deal with them, and respecting the boundary she has clearly reiterated in regards to how he should treat and interact with them.

and its like these are the moments where we see parallels with what the story argues about tamlin - where his way of 'protecting' was uncomfortable towards feyre, and she establishes that she doesn't want to be protected in that way. and we get something similar in maf where feyre literally gets into an argument with rhys bc she established that his behavior with keir was unacceptable. but even when feyre stans see that - they still rush to validate rhysand's behavior. and its like we get multiple instances where rhys will often just take measures within his own hands, and the argument is never about how wrong it is that he does - but that his intentions trump feyre's opinion; specifically when rhysand goes behind feyre's back to make a diplomatic decision with keir and eris and does not tell feyre (and mor) bc he knows they will disagree. that is not the decision of a man who actually values the existence of a co-ruler. or even the decision to tell another high lord the complications of feyre's pregnancy but NOT THE WOMEN GIVING BIRTH to said child. even when faced with the absolute certainty of her death (feyre is almost guaranteed to die) he still doesn't even loop her in. and its important bc feyre is going to die. there's no argument, so the idea of 'stress' makes no sense bc she's going to die. the story is very blunt about it.

but AGAIN feyre established 'no more secrets.' she also established that she wants to always be kept in the loop (even if someone deems xyz dangerous; that was literally the entire point of feyre's mental breakdown. she didn't care that going with tamlin could cause her harm, she wants to make the decision). you see how even though tamlin believes its unsafe (and ig it is) its not his decision, and the emphasis is put on feyre's opinion and not tamlin's intentions? why aren't we keeping this same energy, like ever.

and that's the ick part - even if rhys hates nesta. even if we argue that nesta 'was abusive' - feyre has established that she (1) doesn't want rhysand to speak about them or to them disrespectfully (2) that she does not approve of his behavior. (3) that she always wants to be informed on everything. she also laments that her worst fear being deemed 'not enough' or 'not useful' which one of the leading reason she decides to go with tamlin at the end of maf - she didn't believe she was useful. that rhysand can consistently prove that he doesn't believe feyre to be unworthy of information regarding her own body, court and family should be a slap in the face to be people who claim to 'love only her.'

and yet - when confronted with rhysand's behavior (both in previous books and the last) the race is to validate his behavior and not feyre's opinions. so everytime time 'feyre stans' present an argument thats geared toward validating rhysand's actions and not the boundaries that feyre established. side eye.

either feyre is an adult, who is old enough to rule a nation, have a child, and have her own opnions. or she's little more than a child who needs certain decisions made for her bc y'all disagree with them. or she's person capable of making mistakes, having flaws, and actually making conscious (morally ambiguous) decisions that we the audience can agree or disagree with. we can't argue that she an eternal victim of every circumstance, while denying her agency in moments where she's actually the victim. or argue that she morally grey and complex and then justify the behavior and combat when people might have differing opinions. as is the point of being a morally grey character.

i think we need to do away with 'morally-grey' as a descriptor. or it needs to be expounded on in a meaningful way. being morally ambiguous means we should look closer into the actions of the character, because often how they chose to solve their problems says something about them. im just tired of 'morally-grey' used as the justification of an action, instead of a conversation starter.

#anti sjm #anti feyre #anti feysand #anti rhysand #anti acomaf #this is actually an old post but a discussion me and mc had bout this very problem with feyre and how she is positioned #made a lightbulb come out #and the last post i made about how people chose to selective read and selectively apply analysis that are often dependent on #removing actual context across books #focusing only on the explanation given #and not how that explanation or information actually measures against previously established information #in this case - never actually think about feyre as a fully fledged character #but instead placing her into this chunked analysis that are dependent on ignoring #what *she* has already established across the story

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