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   hi hello it’s been a week or so..ish!! life kinda happened, between me moving servers again and finally getting back to art as a part-time gig and other similar things that kinda ate on my time, so sorry that it seemed like i dropped off the face of the earth... again. (:

   so obvs i’m not affiliated anymore (i’ll update things later to show that) but i also....... really desperately need to clean things up before i can get back to writing here since i want to refocus on writing the meta and character-building that has me so utterly passionate about albi in the first place! and so that kinda means........ new blog is the easiest way to do that ! i don’t have anything for it set up yet, but it’ll be the same url as this one (cuz i’m attached.) and this one will get archived with posts in the queue to redirect to the new blog once it’s done.

   but in classic tungie style, u can slap that heart if u’d like me to follow from the new blog when it’s done. and if u wanna call it off here then i wish u all the best in the future!!

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   like sure u can take away small text on the dashboard ‘cause myopia and legibility are accessibility issues but could u pick a less disgusting font + font-size combination that looks a little less 2003 website design?

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give me two characters who are each other’s home. two characters who feel completely safe, warm and protected in each other’s presence, and who are completely respected by the other. two people who, on some level or another, were missing that little extra spark they needed to feel fully confident and accepted as their whole selves until the other came along. they don’t “fix each other” or “make each other better”–they give the other the support they need to build on what was already inside them. sure they might kiss, or make goo-goo eyes, but they can also just…talk, and make each other laugh and smile, because for once they feel comfortable enough in themselves and with each other to be vulnerable in that way. two complete people who finally find someone to share all of themselves with. and no matter what they do or how far they go, they’ll always have each other to come back home to. 

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swornoasis‌:

  She hears the pain like a wistful ballad, but how sweetly he speaks of his late friend chases any concerns her heart grips behind her chest. While tremulous, the sigh that leaves her parted lips is soft and warm, mixing with the keeper’s somnolent air that hangs around them now. It’s late, and the highs of their conversation was falling into a noticeable close. She focuses on his warmth, the sound of his heart beating rhythmically against her auburn ears, though she quickly becomes uncertain whether this helps her focus or encourage the want for sleep more. 

Not to worry, though, for Albi raises Jubei’s hand high towards the ceiling and that pins her with enough alertness to paint imagery with his words. She can see the man with silvery blue hair in chainmail, grins from ear to ear, laughing heartily and regaling merrily with admiring talks of his dear friend Warrior of Light. She can try and envision this wintry nation of Ishgard and the sort of ventures Albi undertook, from dragons to treacherous regiments, and Ser Haurchefant’s heroic sacrifice. 

     ❝ He sounded like a remarkable friend … I hope one day, if we find time to visit Coerthas, that I could say hello where he rests now. ❞

Truly an individual to be remembered with a smile … but the mere thought of knowing this person no longer is around to continue smiling and continue supporting Albi in future endeavors, is a heavy truth to swallow, one that she knows she herself has endured in her youth and even now. With these thoughts perched on her weary shoulders, she scoots closer, relishing in the keeper’ embrace and presence, comforted by his voice, by the sustained optimism he so deftly maintains despite the remembrance being a bittersweet anecdote. Her hand curls tightly atop his chest, gripping at the fabric which then had her realize a clumsy error, forcing her to sit up so precipitately that she bumps her hand on the headboard. 

     ❝ I-I’m sorry! You’re still in your clothes you’ve worn all day! ❞ Flustered and highly wired from this sudden realization, she leaps from the bed, stumbling on her way to the wardrobe that’s just fulms from the bedside, scouring for more comfortable garments the keeper can don. She also moves to the sink, a towel in hand as she douses it in warm water. The frantic movements hither and thither surely looks like a comedic scene of some skit or other, until she finally returns to Albi’s side, the once-folded clothes sprawled atop his lap and the damp towel in her hand raising to wipe away any dirt and dried sweat on his person. Just the thought of not giving Albi an opportunity to breathe after this long day leaves her with guilt.  

      ❝ This should help you sleep more soundly. ❞ She urges, wiping his face, around and behind his neck, and even down the length of arms. Satisfied with this makeshift washdown routine, her eyes signal to his shawl and the accessories and layers about his shoulders and torso. Without hesitation, she reaches forward to begin helping him undress.  ❝ Before you object, I’m not just going to let you sleep in your battle gear. ❞ At the very least, she was hardly sleepy anyway. And it serves as good distraction from lingering in any more heavy thoughts. Though, truth be told, the need for distraction comes effortlessly and accidentally, since her failure of foresight leads her completely startled and unfocused when she gazes upon the man half-bare before her. She swallows the lump in her throat, nervousness assaulting her on all fronts of her mind, before shaking it off, clearing her throat.

     ❝ I’m still … very sorry for troubling you tonight. So I want to make it up to you, if you’ll let me? Like … letting me take care of you tomorrow? ❞   It’s silly feeling the blush creeping on her tanned cheeks, a sudden desire for something as normal as a woman taking care of the man she loves.  ❝ I can … learn how to make this hot chocolate like your friend did. Or I can prepare breakfast? Whatever you’d like for me to do, I’ll do it! ❞

   “one of the best,” it’s a bittersweet smile that grows on his lips, that presses against her temple amid his sleepy cheer. even as he might try to tangle himself further with her, make it near impossible that she’d slink away with the strings of insomnia tugging at her limbs later on, he knows there’s little he can do but make empty promises of the same kind he had back then. but some things never changed, did they? “but sure, we can go visit him. i haven’t been in a while, an’ i’m sure he’d wanna meet ye.”

   shame, even, that he’d visited haurchefant’s father (even if it hadn’t been intentional) without giving a moment to sit by the cliff, yet back then, it hadn’t seemed right. how could he face his dear friend’s grave when he couldn’t even manage his dying request? how would he bring the girl who so vehemently disagreed with it to meet him now?

   problems fer a future me.

   but wide eyes track her frantic movements around the room, pulling him to sit up with a lengthy yawn. ears jolted up previously lower languidly, flattening apathetically against the side of his head. whilst the initial surprise of her busying herself began to wear off and the hours he’s spent running to and fro today wear on his exhausted features, the chill of the damp cloth against his face wakes him from any notion of rest again. a rumble of low grumbles escapes his clear frown, and he sits stubbornly still amid her barrage of cleansing ministrations.

   “i can change on my own, y’know?” with a sleepy flick of his ear as the shawl pops over his crown, he slides the bracers off his arms, dropping them on the floor next to the bed with soft clink’s as the metal struck the tile. he moves to stand, thumbs already grasping the belt that held the wrapped fabric around his waist with no concern for the clothes haphazardly tossed in his lap earlier. what’s more to the pile he’ll already have to pick up, he figures, releasing the embroidered brocades and stitched leather to gather at his feet. after swiping his long sleeve shirt off the floor and tugging it on, he swaps his slops for baggier pants, and nonchalantly sweeps his discarded armor towards his bag.

   folding it all when he’d doubtless need to wash it later seemed a waste of time, after all.

   “i don’t need ya ta do stuff like that...” as he sinks back into his seat, he shakes his head, heaving a sigh. idle fingers scratch at his scalp as he searches for better words, better thoughts, something helpful to say. frankly, the idea of jubei flitting about the kitchen just didn’t seem like aught she’d enjoy, even if the sentiment was touching enough. “twelve know it ain’t yer fancy. an’ sides, even if ye say ye don’t mind, i mind.”

   he peeks up from beneath his bangs, gauging whatever reaction she might’ve had with a weighty, cautious pause. “i’m content as long as yer near me, as long as we’re happy,” reaching for the hand pressing the cloth to his collarbone, he lifts her wrist to his lips, “as long as yer safe. i need nothing else.”

   releasing her hand from his hold, the keeper promptly flops himself back to his comfortable spot against the pillow, patting at the mess of blankets beside him in that oh-so-welcoming way, “if’n yer so worried about it, though, think of somethin’ only you could do. something so uniquely juby that i’ll fall in love wi’ ye all over again.”

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   yo sorry more apologies ‘cause i sure do apologize a lot for being in and out and taking forever on stuff. no excuses and whatnot.

   been having some motivation issues that are pretty specific to this blog (folk who know my twitter stuff know i’ve been doing discord rp & art & even rerunning msq on an alb alt so it’s not that i’m losing steam with my son. if anything it’s quite the opposite.) regarding things going forward, kinda got amplified by my birthday fallin in the middle of all this and my schedules getting thrown for a bit of a tizzy. it’s not that i don’t want to be around, but i thrive off of stability and tons of communication when it comes to writing, and i don’t really get a lot of either when i’m here at the moment, frankly speaking.

   that being said ! i’m gonna try to change my gears around a bit and adjust, because i wanna make changes anyway and see if i can make tungie werk 4 me again like it once used to. so bear with me, since i’m not entirely sure what that entails quite yet other than probably posting more meta, but it might mean some stuff gets placed off to the side for longer still while i work it out, yeah?

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sonneliht​:

there is a moment of silence before the small basket is placed in front of the other; he remains quiet, unsure of what to say. lucas was never good in comforting people  (  neither was lina, but she was slightly better than he could be but she’s not around any more  )  and maybe this was his first opportunity to do so. and so he clears his throat, index finger pressed against his cheek as he looks away, embarrassed.

“ i got some apples for you… y’know… ”  he sighs, burying his face into his hands. it seems that he would never grow out of that awkwardness of his, no matter how hard he tried.  “ ugh… j-just cheer up, alright?! i don’t know what happened but i hope this helps…”

   no smiles, no cheer, no glee twinkling in his eyes as they follow the basket to the table. his fingers, interlaced above his knees, fidgeting uncomfortably with the ghoulish nightmares of the days prior flashing in the back of his mind ( it falls, it falls, and the earth becomes an eighth hell. ) curl and impatiently rip away from one another, only to land heavy and lay flat against the table.

   he’s jus’ tryin’ ta help.

   “thanks,” forcing his shoulders to relax, he leans back in the chair, lackadaisically tossing his gaze out the open window, “i’ll eat ‘em later.” it was the wrong thing to say to get lucas off his back — to pass on his favorite snack was the equivalent of saying that he wasn’t alright at all — but the sight of a bright red near-sphere was making his stomach churn. so he inhales... and exhales.

   “why’d ye stand up fer me when those wailer’s kids kicked me inta the river?” albi knew the answer; he’d asked lucas 7 years ago when it happened. thinking of what followed the destruction, however, was a far more comforting thought that letting himself linger in the flames. “ye had lina ta look after, so makin’ those kids like ye less wasn’t exactly helpin’ yerself.”