@mainhoonemily and @pbj-anonymous tagged me for the Favorite Pictures of Your Bias thing because apparently they want to see me suffer. Who can pick just a few favorite pictures of T.O.P?? Not me. That’s clearly impossible.
i'll send a prompt in if you're looking! How about rosvolio and the conversation that would happen after he discovered rosaline and escalus! I need somene to speculate... 7 days is too long! :D
Thanks for the prompt! I’m not sure this is what you were looking for – I took it in a direction even I wasn’t really sure about – but I hope you like it!
With a soft rustle of skirts, Isabella pressed herself through the
doorway and into the narrow, ill-lit antechamber. A lamp would have been
unnecessary in any case, as she knew the contours of the room as well as her
own mind, having spent countless hours in it waiting, listening, observing. A prince must be watchful, her
father had told her, and so she was, her eyes and ears taking in every word,
every gesture from her ideal hiding spot.
fingers quickly found the small wooden panel in the wall and slid it sideways,
revealing two round pinpricks of light. Pressing her face up against them, she
blinked twice against the glare and then gazed into the chamber beyond, knowing
with confidence that her dark eyes could not be seen from the other side, disguised
as they were within the mottled landscape of a rather poorly-executed portrait
of Cangrande riding triumphant into Padua.
were only two figures in the chamber, a man and a woman, and they were not yet
speaking, nor were they even looking at each other.
had been Isabella’s idea to have them be brought there, just as it had been her
idea, skillfully woven into her brother’s mind until he eventually regarded it
as his own, that the two should be wed. Such a union, she realized, would solve
so many problems. There would be peace in the streets, the warring houses
brought together by vows sworn to God, the only thing stronger than the hot
blood of vendetta. The people’s spirits would be buoyed by stories of
tender-hearted love – and by the celebratory wine flowing freely in the
streets. And her brother would no longer be distracted from his duty by
thoughts of a woman entirely inappropriate for him in rank and station. Such a
union would force him to set aside whatever adolescent sentiments he might
still have for Rosaline Capulet, to then wish her and her new husband well, and
at last return to the requirements of his role as prince of Verona.
a plan would accomplish a great deal, if only the two figures at the center
would play their parts as instructed.
of course, had been the most resistant. She had always been so, willful and
proud even as a young girl, and there had been a time, as childhood friends,
when Isabella had secretly admired her for it. But grown women didn’t have the
luxury of pride and will, especially not those in the position that Rosaline now
found herself. The young man – Benvolio was his name – was less well-known to Isabella,
but as the penniless nephew and sole heir of Lord Montague, he would no doubt
be brought to heel just as quickly.
was something strange, though, in the way he had eventually gone after Rosaline
after she had fled from the Great Hall, a look in his eyes that seemed to
suggest he felt something more than just the simple humiliation of being
publicly spurned by his soon-to-be fiancé. He had seemed even more troubled
after he returned, only a few moments before her brother and Rosaline
reappeared, their expressions chastened and eyes downcast as they failed to
meet anyone’s gaze. Isabella did not fully understand it – not yet, at least. But she would watch, and wait, with the
certainty that their secrets would be revealed to her soon enough.
So once they had all returned, she had suggested – with all the
sincerity and maidenly innocence she could muster – that the new couple be
allowed a private moment, a chance to begin to get to know one another, and it
had not been hard to bring everyone to agreement. And she knew just the place:
a small audience chamber her father had often used to meet with visiting
dignitaries and ambassadors, left almost entirely unoccupied these days, but perfectly
suitable for their needs.
It would have been perfectly suitable for Isabella’s needs as well –
if only for the fact that neither the future groom nor his bride were saying
anything at all to each other, leaving the air in the chamber to weigh heavy
and thick, curdling with silent tension. Rosaline sat stone-faced in a chair
facing the door, while Benvolio had his back to her, his hands braced up
against the solid stone mantel of the fireplace.
For a long moment Isabella wondered if they were ever going to speak
at all, until finally the young man turned towards Rosaline, taking one hesitant
step in her direction before he let a weary sigh escape from his lips.
arrangement was not of my choosing, nor of yours,” he said, his words slow, as
if deliberately chosen. “But, before anything is done, tell me – and speak
plainly, as I have no wish to play the unsuspecting fool – have you already
formed an attachment with another?”
it was true, then – he had come to suspect what Isabella already knew. Had the
Montague heir seen something, some open declaration of the prince’s feelings
towards Rosaline? Or even of her feelings
towards the prince?
Rosaline swiveled her head to look at him, not moving an inch
otherwise, her hands left passively clasped upon her lap.
“Do not attemptto know my heart, signore,” she sneered. “Such an endeavor is beyond your care or concern.”
Her eyes narrowed, as if she was finding it hard to maintain her composure. “And
no doubt you would struggle, for as I have heard, your knowledge of a woman’s
anatomy is limited to a single place, one nowhere near the heart at all.”
He inhaled sharply, his face a rigid mask of anger, and after a tiny,
abortive movement of his hand towards his waist, Isabella realized he had reflexively
reached for his sword, Rosaline’s sex the only thing that had saved her from
being challenged. Instead, he charged forward into the center of the room, his
“To know your heart would be a futile course indeed. I wonder if it
even exists, or if an equal measure of pride and icy disdain simply reside in the
place where it ought to be.” He pressed his hand into his forehead, rubbing
along the ridge of his brow. “But you evade the point, madam. Do you have an attachment?”
Isabella could only stand and watch agape. Was it possible the man was jealous? Why would it pain him so to think this woman loved another?
she thundered, at once coming to her feet, turning towards him with her determined
little chin thrust high in outrage. “An attachment to my liberty! I would not
be bought and sold like common chattel, I would not know the yoke of a petty
tyrant who thinks himself a king because he bears the name of husband.”
barked out a laugh, but there was no joy in it, only bitterness.
“I pity the man who would try to yoke you, more so the one who might
attempt to bare his heart and speak to you of tender sentiments and thoughts of
“Love?” Rosaline scoffed, throwing a hand out for emphasis as she took
a step towards him. “A child’s game! Look what it brought our cousins.”
so it went on, accusation upon accusation, recrimination upon recrimination, until
Isabella could only shake her head in frustration and half-wonder if they would
continue to engage in such hostilities up until the moment they reached the
altar and the priest made them kneel in preparation for their vows. Dearest
saints in heaven, could anything be made to flourish in such rocky soil as
But as she continued to watch them, she could not deny the passion
with which they railed at one another, the way they seemed to be slowly circling
around each other as they sparred and parried, both the hunter and the hunted. Such
passion was dangerous – even from behind the wall she could sense the
shimmering combustibility of it – but it would no doubt keep Rosaline occupied,
until perhaps there would be no space left in her mind for any thoughts of the
Perhaps, Isabella thought, her lips curling into an unbidden smile, her
plan might actually succeed. House Montague and House Capulet would not burn
down her city, taking her beloved brother along with them. No, she promised
herself: their heirs, like fire and powder, would unite and consume only each
other, until there was no danger left at all.
Hey, so I've got a comment for the whole "black Hermione" conversation. I'm totally down for headcanon/opinion/whatever, so no offense meant, but it occurred to me that if this was reversed people would have a different reaction. Like, if a character everyone knew to be black was reimagined as white in the interest of increasing diversity. I'm kinda playing devils advocate with this, but what do you think? Would people still think it's an okay thing to do? My guess is no, but what do you think?
see here’s the thing
something like 95% of all characters in popular movies, books, tv shows, videogames, comicbooks, etc etc etc… are white. there is no way there could be a “reimagining of a black character as white in the interest of increasing diversity”. in the current state of the world, that’s actually impossible.
also, reimagining a person of colour as white in fiction happens all the time, and most of the general public doesn’t give a single shit about it. for example, katniss everdeen (portrayed by jennifer lawrence in the movies) was specifically described as non-white. tilda swinton, a white actress, played the ancient one in doctor strange, despite that the character is decidedly non-white in the comicbooks! ghost in the shell. prince of persia. stonewall. pretty much any hollywood movie base on an anime!
furthermore, hermione granger being perceived as black isn’t a “reimagining”. JK Rowling herself has said that hermione can 100% be read as black. this isn’t people taking a white character and changing her race - hermione does not have a canon race. fuck, if anything, she’s canonically black because the cursed child is a direct sequel to the last Harry Potter book, whilst the movies are mere adaptations.
even if hermione was originally white in the books, are we (white people) really losing anything by her being “““reimagined”“” as black? we already have almost every other fictional character, why can’t black people have a few of ours?
It’s been months of planning. Months of Prompto meticulously
obsessing over every single detail. Months of Noctis vetoing food choices, cake
tastings, floral arrangements, color swatches… it’s enough that Noct’s head was
spinning by the end.
And it’s all here, all led up to this. It was absolutely
fucking worth it, because Noct’s sitting at a long table with a pristine
tablecloth, and just this once, he doesn’t mind being the center of attention.
It’s been a long road. It’s been such a fucking long, exhausting road, and it
leaves him dizzy, trying to think back on it.
There’s music and dancing and Prompto’s already into the
wine, and Noct’s not bothering to stop him. Noct’s dad and Prompto’s uncle are
deep in conversation. Aranea is drinking Gladio under the table, and Ignis is
well on his way. In his pocket, he has a stupid little speech tucked away.
Shining bright on his finger is a silvery, intricate ring, ‘ever at your side’
and the date engraved on the inside.
“It’s beautiful, Prompto, it really is,” one of Prompto’s colleagues
is saying to him, as she leans over the table to give him an awkward hug.
“Thanks,” Prompto’s grinning ear-to-ear, and it’s only
partially because of the wine. “Did most of it myself. Didn’t have to, someone kept telling me to hire a
“I only said that because you were a nightmare to live with,” Noctis points out. He’s smiling though. It’s
impossible not to smile, because he’s still high on it all. On the perfection
of a quiet ceremony, the fact that they did
it, and even though things aren’t different, not really, somehow it feels so much better, so fucking perfect he can
barely stand it.
“Mmm, and now you’re gonna treat me to a perfect honeymoon,
right?” Prompto grins bright, downing his wine, and he’s flushed a little,
smiling as he leans in and cups Noct’s chin and steals a kiss, long and
lingering, right there in front of everyone. Noct laughs against Prompto’s lips,
but he returns the kiss, their foreheads pressing together when they part.
“The perfect honeymoon,” Noctis agrees. That much was his
job, and he thinks, just maybe, this once, he’s actually planned the perfect
surprise trip. They’re leaving tomorrow afternoon, but for now, they have a
long evening ahead of them, dancing and drinking and eating and probably some
really, really good sex.
Prompto scoots his chair a little closer. He rests his head
on Noct’s shoulder, and their fingers tangle, under the table.
“To think,” Prompto says, voice a happy tease, “this all
started with us just being best friends, huh Noct?”
Noctis groans, but he can’t hold back the tiny smile. “Never
gonna let me live that one down, huh Prom?”
“Nope. Worked it into my reception speech, just you wait,”
Prompto’s laughing into Noct’s suit jacket.
“Bet it was my dad’s idea, wasn’t it?” Noctis sighs, tries
to sound irritated, but it’s evident he’s amused, happy even, by the way he’s
tipping his cheek into Prompto’s hair, by the way he squeezes his husband’s
hand extra hard under the table.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Noct’s father,
seated next to him, says mildly, pausing mid-conversation with Prompto’s uncle
“Everyone’s against me,” Noctis sighs.
“Yep, but we love you. I love you,” Prompto grins. “Even if
you took forever, Noct.”
He did take forever. He’d made it infinitely harder than it
needed to be, but they’d ended up here, hadn’t they? “Love you too, Prom. Even
if I made you wait.”
“It was worth it,” is all Prompto says, with a smile, before
he disentangles, straightens up to go for another glass of wine.
And that, Noctis can agree to. It really has all been worth it.
“ I will let no one, not Elizabeth, not any usurper, take my country from me. Since I was a babe, I have been a Queen. Since a child, I have been alone on foreign soil. I know how to keep my life, my crown and I will. “
@pixelhorrorjam Update #3! Also known as the “Fuck I love purple” update. Not the greatest gif quality in the world, but here you go. I’m trying to not give away all the maps I’ve made…
Anyway, progress update!
Maps - 10 / 26 (This will hold steady for a while. The first ten maps make up the bulk of the game. The remaining ones only get seen once or twice, so I’m going to tackle them as they come instead of all at once.)
Sprites - 9 / 10
Portraits - 4 / 12
Eventing - 21%
Overall - 40 %
I had to slow down a bit to take care of some work stuff, but that’s mostly done with now, so… yeah. Thanks for sticking around.