#[ next posts I will do will be writing I swear! ]

[honeyhotteoks]

do you have any advice on like getting better with writing?

hey! i definitely do!! i’ve talked about this before but i have a lot of new readers, so ill start off by saying i’ve been writing for my entire life, and im 30 so thats a lot of years. if you’re a new writer, trust me i used to be there and good god if you guys could see the stuff i published in old fandoms 💀 really, really bad haha

i only say that because i by no means consider myself a great writer, there are fic writers in this space alone that i’m always so floored by and look up to…. but people have been very kind about my writing style and it’s something that took time to develop it’s not something i just “had”. outside of fic, i was a literature and creative writing major, and got very used to writing and workshopping pieces.

now! onto some actual advice —

1. read a lot and read more, but read stuff you actually like and not stuff you feel pressured to read. i love high brow litfic as much as the next pretentious english major, but i started writing a ton after reading a bunch of kindle unlimited romance because it was fun and it got me inspired

2. watch well written television for dialogue and pacing. people do not talk in proper english, they don’t say things eloquently, and there’s a lot of filler and fluff. that’s good! that’s real, so i love well written tv to show me how it’s done

3. get comfortable writing in weird ways. for years i used to sit down and be like “ah okay so chapter one” and then i was stuck, stalled out, and just felt bad about the process. when i started writing both aurora and tnt, i started in the middle. i had an image of a scene in my mind (for tnt it was actually the claim attempt) and i just wrote it out and then bounced around later

4. outlines are your friend! sometimes i’ll get a random line of dialogue in my head or an image but that doesn’t mean i’m ready to write it. i throw it in one big outline so i don’t lose it.

5. if you’re wanting to write really good smut i have two suggestions but please only do this to your personal comfort level. this is what works for me but do not make yourself uncomfortable— for good smut, i watch porn for reference and for good dirty talk, i listen to nsfw audio. i like to really write the visuals for smut and make it immersive but lol i haven’t experienced everything ive written about and logistics of the body are hard!! i usually find a video or an audio and let that help guide the imagery im writing.

6. be comfortable with the editing process. i know the temptation to post something the minute you finish it is there, but sleep on it. come back and edit it, read the dialogue out loud if you have to. i swear you’ll make the piece better just by leaving it and coming back.

7. don’t be afraid to post. most people are kind, and the worst thing that will happen is you don’t get a lot of notes. that’s okay, it’s a process.

8. research! as i’m writing anything, even a silly little oneshot, im doing research on something. i am hyper aware that im not korean and have never spoken korean or lived in korea, so for my fic i try my hardest to ground elements of that in reality. i truly cannot tell you how many hours ive spent reading like korean case law on revenge porn just for like 3 lines of dialogue. and you don’t have to go that crazy, i’m arguably too intense, but i do think some of that helps the story and the dialogue feel real.

9. describe something real- every place in my writing is based on something real. every apartment, hotel, cafe, venue, etc., they’re all either something i’ve found online or drawn from my life and use that to my advantage. i use apartment listings and save photographs, i do google map walks to see what neighborhoods look like, anything to get the feel of a place or an experience. for the christmas chapters of aurora, i watched hours of gwangju walking tour videos on youtube while i was writing just to understand how to describe their walk in the snow. it really helps me to have a visual that i can put words to.

10. find your weak points and see what other writers do differently. if you want to improve, you should find a small place to start. is it dialogue? overall plot? smut? etc. - i’ll never forget being on a creative writing retreat, and a very important writing professor said to me “everything you write is very pretty but you haven’t said anything. you have to decide to say something.” that feedback hurt, but sent me down a much better writing path when i realized where i was falling short and not challenging myself.

okay i hope some of this was helpful and if it’s a mess im sorry im on mobile. i really just love writing so deeply and will always talk about it, so i hope this was helpful 💗

[call-sign-shark]

You cannot imagine how much I looked forward to reading this, honey!!

First of all, your poetic prose never disappoints. Particularly the descriptions of Kairaxès' movements, full of imagery and incredibly smooth. Same for the way you wrote about the white walker or Brynhild's dead steed. I felt shivers down my spine.

And there is the plot... I don't know where to begin so I have to warn you: this comment will be utter chaos. Tbh when I created Heavenerys the very first thing I told myself was that I wanted to turn her into a creepy Targaryen queen who mysteriously disappeared Beyond the Wall. Then we started briefly joking about Hev and Brynhild (btw I absolutely adore what you did with her. This is as unique as perfectly fitting for her). Tbh I had absolutely no idea what you had in mind and jeeeeeeeeeeeezzzzz.. This is the best plot twist ever. I'm dead serious hon, this is going full canon for Heavenerys if you allow me to do so. Not only is the idea badass as fuck, but it works so well with all I created around Hev that I started to wonder if you could read minds.

"Therein born to him and his queen, was the downfall of man. The Night Queen would call for her one day, and his precious girl would answer. " Heavenerys being the result of a curse and hearing the call of Brynhild is pure genius. It is the best explanation on why she disappeared: it makes so much sense, I swear.

"The Night Queen slowed her mount, bringing him to a stop and jumping down to her feet, walking the remaining way to where the Targaryen stood. " Brynhild is so charismatic and imposing, I love her. Besides the whole cursing situation, it's almost frightening how she found the perfect words to soothe Hev. They might have never met, but she immediately knew all the suffering she went through and that's... That's actually tragically beautiful.

“From me you came, and to me you return, child.”  gnnnnnn let me tell you something: Imma still that and use the quote + Brynhild for my next post ehe.

The way I giggled at their exchange. You got Hev' bratty nature despite being a queen quite right! Pointing out at the walkers and saying "uh no thanks I don't want to look like this" is so her. 🤭

What a breathtaking one-shot, sweetie. I have been rereading it for the fifth time as I write this. Thank you so much for this wonderful gift, I am beyond grateful and I shall return the favor very soon. You're fantastic. 🖤

The Night Queen and the Frozen Plague.

I had to do a wee bit of tinkering to the GoT lore, namely that the White Walkers can speak beyond those eerie death cries we all know and love. But here, as promised, mostly for my Sharkie, some Brynhild and Heavenerys!

The sound of his roar fractured the still of the air, the great army of the dead all halting at their queen’s command, Brynhild looking to the sky.

“Southern enemies, my queen,” hissed Craxor, her general. Half skeleton, half rotting flesh, turning his sunken face skyward as he viewed the beast who cast a shadow over the frozen wasteland. 

“Not enemies,” she whispered, her glowing, azure eyes picking out the dragon circling overhead, through the thick of the snow clouds. ”Heavenerys Targaryen and her dragon. At last, she has heard my call. She has come home.”  

The curse of the cold had come to pass, the first-born, pure-blooded child of King Amarys Targaryen blighted by it, as she surely would be. An ill-advised trip north of the wall had led to the ancestral curse landing squarely upon the child, Havenerys born with the mark of the dead. One look into her piercing eyes, and Amarys had seen it, his soul filled with dread.  

Therein born to him and his queen, was the downfall of man. The Night Queen would call for her one day, and his precious girl would answer. 

Kairaxès began his descent from the sky, the snow swirling in tempestuous storms beneath the whoosh of his huge, white wings, shaking the ground he landed upon. The army waited, thousands of wights in amongst a battalion of white walkers, all standing poised. Dead men lain to waste, with no other purpose than to serve their immortal queen. 

Brynhild moved on her tattered, giant black steed, the haggard creature propelled forward on shattered fetlocks, ribbons of decayed flesh floating hauntingly in the breeze. Only she advanced, her army waiting, Heavenerys taking them all in as she dismounted and climbed down to the floor, stroking her dragon’s face.  

“All is well, my beautiful beast,” she spoke at his warning rattles. “They are unlike all we know, but they pose us no harm.” She wasn’t too sure why it was that she intrinsically knew that, but she did. She felt it on a level much deeper than the very last roots of her soul.  

The Night Queen slowed her mount, bringing him to a stop and jumping down to her feet, walking the remaining way to where the Targaryen stood.  

“Welcome to the northern wastes,” Brynhild stated, her voice like a whispered death rattle, sending a slight chill through Heavenerys. She was beyond other worldly, the power radiating from her unlike anything she had ever felt. She watched the ancient queen spear her long, white lance into the frozen ground beneath her feet, eyeing her with the same curiosity. She was all Brynhild had foreseen she would be.  

“I felt I had to come to you, but I do not know why,” she spoke, her sharp, angular face set, staring as the queen slowly approached. 

“You know exactly why, Heavenerys. For justice. For revenge.” The fire of recognition danced in her eyes, the young Targaryen finally feeling heard by somebody. “To wrong those who have wronged you. Amos. Aerthurys. To rain fire and ice upon your enemies, to all those who have harmed you. I believe they call it Valar Morghulis in your mother tongue.” 

Heavenerys nodded, yet her face still questioned. “But why was it, that I felt you call out to me? Why was it you, here in a land where I do not belong?” 

“From me you came, and to me you return, child.”  

At those words, she felt her blood chill to freeze. “I am not a child.”  

Brynhild lifted her chin. “When I am older than time itself, you are very much a child.” She felt it in the air, the waves of cold, foreboding magic, magic not to make an impact. “And your sorcery cannot charm me. Save that. It has its place, it’s intended use.”  

“I cannot if you intend to make me like them,” she spoke, her finger pointing out to the white walkers, Brynhild turning to view her generals. 

“No, which is why I do not intend to. You returning to me was always for a purpose beyond your own. I need you, to make a pathway for us. For my army. For our army. Only with you can I break down the wall and march on Westeros.” 

Many summers and winters would pass, before the final dreadful cold of great north arrived. On that day, Heavenerys flew the great Kairaxès back across the wall, his frozen flames decimating the fortitude, his rider’s magic breaking it further.  

Together, the Frozen Plague and the Night Queen brought their army forth into Westeros.  

Winter is here.  

Valar Marghulis.  

@call-sign-shark @wonderlanddreamer @justrainandcoffee @cillmequick @novashelby

[rainychaoloveshack]

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐁𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐲. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

you can’t fall asleep, so Shadow tries to help.

content. shadow x gn!reader, implied insomnia (reader), sickening amount of fluff (especially towards the end), mentions of shadows past and reader being upset about it

☂︎ wc. 1.2k ☂︎ a/n. second post obviously has to be shadow, yeah? might as well make my next one silver and then scourge, but i dunno. totally gonna reuse this idea for him in a way, i think it’s super sweet. <3 maybe a version where you two AREN"TTT really in a relationship yet? secret mutual pining murhehehehe

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!!

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┊ ⋆ ┊   .   ┊   ┊

┊    ┊⋆     ┊   .

┊    ┊       ⋆˚              

✧. ┊         

⋆｡˚ 🌨 ˚｡⋆｡🌩˚☽˚｡⋆ 

☂

“You’re still awake?” Shadow murmurs, his footsteps causing the wooden floor to creak under him, emerging from his room with a small rub of his ear,  watching you as you take a small glass cup from the cupboard, open the fridge slightly to take out the water pitcher, and then pour yourself a drink.

You could say the same thing for him, but you might’ve just woken him up from the noise of you making your way to the kitchen. He’s never been the deepest sleeper. Always alert.

“Why’re you awake this late?” He comes over to where you’re standing, brushing against you as he urges you back to your room with a hand set right on your waist. His gloves are off, yet his inhibitor rings remain, a soft reminder in the back of your head. “Did something happen? A nightmare?”

You shake your head, taking a sip of water before making it clear to him you just had trouble falling asleep. Best not to tell him it’s been going on for more than just tonight, for a while now actually, but knowing him, he might already be aware of that fact. You never like to worry him too much. No matter how much he likes to hide it, he really does care about you. Sometimes the concern is a little much, but it’s just his own way of showing love, so it’s never bothered you.

His brows furrow as he glances at the digital clock set on the microwave, a clear 03:14 set right there for both of you to see. His eyes flick back to you, letting a small sigh leave his lips.

“Do you need me to keep you company?” He mutters, his tone seeming almost agitated, yet his body language saying just the opposite as his hand falls loosely to your hips, then drops to his side.

You shake your head with a firm refusal; you don’t want to bother him with your little issue tonight. You’ll fall asleep eventually; you always do. But Shadow doesn’t seem swayed by your refusal.

He grumbles, crossing his arms as he leans against the fridge, looking at you with that stoic expression he usually has. “So what’re you going to do then? I assume you’ve been up for hours.” No point in denying that. You nod softly, and his frown deepens with your confirmation. “See? Don’t be so dumb.”

Dumb?

Shadow’s face softens quickly, noticing the mistake in his words. It wasn’t anything too serious, yet it still bugged you in an odd way, making you cross an arm over your stomach and make a small circular motion with the cup in your other hand, the water sloshing around inside, filling the silence between you two.

Shadow grunts, clearly displeased at the sudden silence, yet understanding his mistake, and he shakes his head while looking at you, his ears flicking downward slightly with an apologetic expression on his face.

… You’ll take his apology just like that for tonight. It wasn’t like he called you a ‘dumbass’ or anything; nor did he really mean to insult you.

“Hmph.”  He huffs, his gaze trailing down at the floor for a moment as you take a few more sips of your water, letting the coolness run down your throat. His finger taps impatiently on his arm, clearly deep in thought, before his voice rings out again to you.

“Do you think sleeping with someone else would help?” Someone else? You peek over at him, tilting your head. Does he know that he can just say himself instead of that? He probably does.

Shadow turns, not meeting your gaze, and glancing towards the window at the far end of the room, noticing the moonlight shining through. Is he a bit embarrassed? Even after both of you have been together for this long?

Some things never change. Not that you mind it when it comes to Shadow. The only reason why you two still sleep separately is because you thought it would be nice to give him some privacy at times. Maybe another moving day would be in order; you'll ask him about it tomorrow.

You purse your lips to fight back the giggle sending itself up your throat, but you nod softly. His warmth would be nice tonight. As long as a quill doesn’t prick you or anything, but he’s usually so careful with you that it rarely happens at all.

“... Come on.” Shadow runs the back of his fingers against your arm, gesturing for you to put the cup down and come to bed with him, almost as if he’s pleading for you to do so.

And who are you to refuse?

Your hand drags up his wrist slowly, bumping over his inhibitor ring and feeling the fur on his palm, also at the base of his fingertips, then intertwining your fingers with his, closing your eyes, and snuggling your head closer to his chest. His heartbeats so calm, pattering right against your head.

Shadow was never one to be so physically affectionate with you, and if you weren’t so tired, the night calling your name, you would’ve teased him lightly about the gesture. But it’s not like you’re going to complain either.

Not that he didn’t want to give it to you, or that he disliked it entirely. It just wasn’t his main form of showing his love for you. He can accept a hug sometimes, but being so touchy too often made him feel awkward. It feels better when Shadow’s comfortable enough to give such acts of affection to you.

“I’ll be with you until you fall asleep.” He says quietly, the weight of the bed shifting ever so slightly as his other hand rises off the bed, hesitating in the air before he settles it right on your head, petting you softly. “Wake me up if anything.” A soft sigh leaves his lips, followed by a grumble you can feel from deep within his chest as his body relaxes under the weight of you, clutching your fingers tighter with his own. “I’ll be here.”

Your wrist brushes against his inhibitor ring, your brows furrowing and eyes squeezing tighter as you're reminded of his past struggles and pain. It sucks that he had to go through so much before you two met. It hurts. How many times have you cried over him in private, his own aching and sorrow spreading to you? He caught sobbing you once, telling you not to worry about it repeatedly as he wiped your flowing tears away. But how can you not?

Shadow notices you tense up under him, his heartbeat quickening just the tiniest bit at your sudden discomfort. “What's wrong?” He mumbles, but you brush off his concern and just sigh against him, murmuring a soft sweet nothing as you tilt your head up to press a kiss on his lips briefly, saying nothing else as you lie back down against his chest. What is there to say, really? ‘I’m sorry for your terrible past’? It would just be a reminder; one he doesn’t need tonight, or ever.

Shadow says nothing else at your display of affection, but responds physically with a soft peck of his own, right on your head. Oh, how much more lucky can you get tonight? You try to hold back the smile forming on your face, but it's pointless to try to hide your joy.

While your relationship with him might not be cuddles and roses all the time, you wouldn’t want anything else from him. You don’t. He already makes you feel like the world.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

[thelostgirl21]

So, you are telling me that Jaskier used to wear outfits the color of the sea in Season 1...

That he constantly complains about his feet hurting, or struggling with keeping his footing while having to wear boots (is the problem his actual boots or a lack of early practice in life?!)...

That he got all excited at the thought that Geralt might catch him a fish to eat...

That a huge part of his identity and the pride he takes in himself is tied to his singing voice and abilities...

That his songs have been described as having the power to sing a king off his clothes...

That helping his best friend in the whole wide world bathe after rubbing soothing chamomile onto his lovely bottom is typical friendship behavior to him...

That he vulnerably asked for Geralt to get away for a while with him, and head to the (west?) coast, in the hopes that he might be able to prove himself a worthy [travel] companion (works whether you interpret the interest as romantic or queerplatonic).

And then he basically implied that (returning home with Geralt?) might be what would please him most.

That the very first thing he did after Geralt returned to him and got him out of his cell in Season 2, is take off his top and jump into the freaking nearest body of water!

That he's hypersensitive to the way people on land start stinking after a while (including himself), and will openly suggest they should bathe (or downright bathe them himself)!

That he talks with animals...

That you had him fall in love with a human prince in Season 3...

... then had him sing a song about a human prince that falls in love with a siren to Ciri right before you had him go meet with said prince, share his first kiss with him, and make love to him in a woodshed!

... only to show a clip from "Sirens of the Deep" revealing that the Netflix version of Jaskier is from

Bremervoord

a.k.a. The vassal state of Cidaris and one of the places that goes the furthest west into the sea on the Continent!

Bremervoord, with an economy running primarily on pearls fishing.

Bremervoord, the place where the story of Jaskier's Season 3 song, "A Little Sacrifice" takes place...

A place where a prince (though I think it's a duke in the actual short story) meets a siren, falls in love with her, and willingly leaves his human life behind to follow her at sea.*

*according to the song, at least! And I'm not sure it ends well for the prince of the song, because that part about him sinking to darkest night sounds a bit ominous if you ask me... The book's short story has a different conclusion.

You're basically telling me that Jaskier comes from a place on the coast that goes far into the sea to the west, a place where merpeople and humans occasionally interact, and that he didn't really feel like talking about where he's from, because he felt like the only way for him to ever be able to "become himself" was to leave his home behind...

... AND YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO LATCH ONTO THAT POPULAR MERMAN!JASKIER THEORY?!

OR INSTINCTIVELY START DEVELOPING A BUNCH OF HEADCANONS ABOUT IT?

For example :

What if Jaskier keeps repeating that "he's just a bard" not because he's actually dismissing how good, influential, or powerful he is...

... but because he chose to give up his tail to permanently become a human, and he doesn't like to be reminded that he doesn't quite "fully belong" with humanity, because there's something a bit different and "unique" about his singing.

What if, growing up as a merboy, he'd kept feeling like he was born in the wrong body and with the wrong species given his brethren's attitude about singing as an artform.

What if when merpeople sing, they typically rely on pure melodies without lyrics, and argue that only humans and other species of the land - with their inferior vocal capabilities - must rely on something as primitive as words and lyrics to inspire emotions and make ideas take root into other people's minds.

What if they do have a singing speech pattern, but when it comes to artistic expression, the songs are purely melodic.

But Jaskier, after listening to some of the folk songs that the local bards enjoy singing by the fire at the beach, often accompanied by a lute or other instruments, fell in love with the way the words of those songs flow and sound.

Perhaps he revealed himself to Essi then, and that, instead of being scared of him, she agreed to show him how to play the lute, speak her language, and sing the way humans do.

And when he did fully grasp the beauty and the power of using verbal poetry into songs, he knew he could never look back.

What if Essi was the first person to ever really see him for who he was and treat him as family, hence why he loves her like a little sister.

Maybe "the Lettenhoves" are basically a group of merpeople with no actual blood relation, that lost their own families and were rejected by them when they chose to make the full transition from merperson to human.

By pretending to be blood relatives, they've managed, however, to realistically pass as a large human noble family, acquire a bunch of lands and estates over the years that is passed to each new generation that wants them, and each new member is given a certain amount of money when they become one of the Lettenhoves to begin their new life on land!

They aren't extremely close, because they each have their own lives and personal ventures (very few go into singing careers), but they are still people that understand what being a human born at sea feels like, and that will be there to offer each other help and support if need be!

And so, Jaskier was able to go study at the University of Oxenfurt and learn as much of the human world and its arts as he could!

But, while his voice remains a bit more powerful and influential than most humans that were born on land, that influence comes with a "curse"...

Most people that instinctively fall under the charm of his melodies (note: Jaskier can use his voice to make an audience more susceptible to anger and annoyance when he sings, too. An especially useful skill to have when you're relying on food being thrown at you to eat... Hence why Geralt's lack of emotional response to his singing when they met was so intriguing!) will typically only care about how they make them feel, rather than how Jaskier himself was feeling when he wrote his songs.

Geralt, Yennefer and Ciri are all immune to his siren charms - and dwarves appear to be more resistant as well - but, while his songs inspire people, and hearing him sing them "live" with his actual voice tends to make people become instantly infatuated with him (or immediately hate him, should Jaskier wish to repel rather than attract them)...

... they rarely ever see him or seemingly attempt to connect with him on an intimate, emotional level, like they would with another human being.

And so, every time Jaskier is reminded of how much influence he appears to have over how people see the world when he uses his voice, Jaskier's tendency to remind them that he's "just a bard" is because he wishes people would connect with his humanity, too, rather than what he can do.

Regardless of him being able to pass as someone that was born on land and started his life in a fully human body, he knows that his voice will always carry some remnant of his siren abilities.

And that this difference appears to be preventing him from emotionally and physically connecting with other human beings that weren't born at sea like him, the way he wishes he could.

And so, that's why he was initially hesitant to sing for Radovid, and he kept insisting that he wasn't in a "singing mood" that day.

Because he knew that, the moment Radovid heard his singing voice, he might stop listening to him and trying to connect.

But there was something in the way Radovid insisted - while asking for Jaskier to pick his favorite song and showing a sincere curiosity about listening to what pleased him most - that made Jaskier ultimately choose to risk it.

And, while Radovid was obviously affected by the sound of his voice (to the point where he felt the need to pretend his speechlessness was caused by drunkenness), it was also very clear that he'd been listening.

Not only was his gaze very sharp and his eyes clear and bright while Jaskier was singing - seemingly attempting to analyse every note and word - but, for once, the things Radovid was complimenting him about weren't related to his ability to make people feel and experience things...

For once, what Radovid was claiming made Jaskier so special wasn't the beauty or power of his voice, or how catchy the melodies of the songs he'd sang to him were.

It wasn't even about how Jaskier's lyrics had made him feel.

He'd told Jaskier that what made him so special was his ability to see people for who they really are rather than who they pretend to be.

He'd essentially told him that his ability to truly comprehend those around him was his gift - that he had a unique ability to connect with them at the core... the very thing Jaskier had always felt that he was lacking.

And when Jaskier pushed him for more, all Radovid told him was that he didn't know yet, but was determined to figure it out.

"You connect strongly with others and my desire is to understand and connect with you."

That is what Radovid had taken away from who he was, even after having heard him sing, and Jaskier couldn't help but feel like he'd found a kindred spirit in that human.

Someone stuck in a world and a birth family that simply couldn't understand and accept him as he was - constantly hiding parts of himself to survive.

Radovid had then agreed to help him with the whole situation with Rience - despite the fact that Jaskier hadn't used any song to attempt to suggest he should, just genuinely asked for his help.

And - if that hadn't been enough - that prince had gone one step even further by asking him if Geralt knew how lucky he was to have him, after Jaskier had been singing about his self-worth issues when it came to relationships and his fear of never being good enough - or human enough - for a fellow human (or mutated human) partner.

He'd been listening to him.

He might have been born on land, and he might not have been immune to Jaskier's siren abilities, but Radovid still hadn't lost sight of who he was, nor been tempted to start obsessing about owning him or treating him like a prized possession.

And so, Jaskier tentatively begins to allow himself to hope...

Until Radovid does something truly unexpected that none of his prior human, elven or dwarven suitors or lovers had ever done before...

Learn his song.

Sirens are typically immune to the power that another siren's voices carry... until they fall in love.

One of the ways to know if a fellow merperson is alterously or romantically drawn to you is to sing back one of their own melodies to them, and see how they will respond.

Should they feel that instinctive, near irresistible pull towards the melody, and vice versa, then the two sirens will often start trying to discover and explore different ways they can learn to harmonize and use their voices to complement each other's, and create new shared melodies that will resound through the sea.

And, for the very first time in his life, Jaskier finally understands how people feel when they listen to him sing.

Despite the fact that the "siren's melody" being sung back to him is a human song he wrote, with human lyrics, accompanied by human instruments...

Despite the fact that Radovid himself is most definitely not a siren but very much human - fumbling a bit with Jaskier's lute, visibly nervous, too shy to allow his voice to rise above a whisper...

To Jaskier, it's the most beautifully mesmerizing "siren's melody" he's ever heard in his existence! It's filled with warmth, love, understanding, a promise of unconditional acceptance and safety...

It's absolutely intoxicating, he can barely breathe, feels like he's on the very edge of losing his sanity, and it takes all the power he has to avoid launching himself right at him!

And if a human can make him feel this way singing back to him a song filled with poetry and lyrics - rather than a classic, traditional siren's melody - then maybe there's never been anything wrong with Jaskier or the way he's always preferred to sing!

His people made him feel unwanted, but the sea never did! It probably would have been welcoming to a lute-playing merman singing like a bard, if his people hadn't been such close-minded arses!

Jaskier feels at home on land and has never once regretted his choice, but maybe he still has a right to also be a child of the sea, regardless of him having ultimately chosen a pair of legs over his fins!

And maybe Radovid would love to see parts of his old home some day - even if they can only access the surface of it, rather than go explore everything hidden in the water's depths (unless Yennefer has a spell that would allow Radovid to breathe under water as he does. Because Jaskier would never trust a sea witch with Radovid's life!).

And if Jaskier himself can be mesmerized by Radovid's song and feel like he would let that man lead him anywhere and do whatever he wants with him, without any desire to own and control him; maybe he'd simply been trying to connect with the wrong people.

Radovid is the first person he's ever met that seems to be able to connect with both the human and the siren part of him. And when Jaskier offers to help him work on his lute playing and singing, what he's truly saying is that he wants them to learn to harmonize their voices together and create their own melodies...

It's an intimate need Jaskier still has, and he's finally found himself a mate that appears to fully get him, and be able to fulfil those needs.

Of course, then the whole mess with Cirilla happens, and for a moment there Jaskier loses faith that any of it was ever real!

Who was he kidding!? The Redanian Intelligence kept insisting that they knew everything about everyone! Maybe they'd figured out Jaskier used to be a merman, done their research, noticed that Jaskier "fancied" the prince, and instructed him to surprise him and trick him into lowering his defenses, by courting him the way a fellow merman would!

He really should have known!

But then, when he finds Radovid alone, lost, and hiding, he realizes that Radovid had never meant to trick or hurt him.

Radovid had just been genuinely afraid, and trying to deal with the threat of a looming war as best he could by seeking Ciri's help.

And now, the war he'd attempted preventing from happening had begun, he'd clearly internalized Jaskier's earlier blame, and that spoon of a man was sufficiently bonded to him by now that he might just allow himself to be captured and killed if he doesn't do something about it!

And then, Jaskier himself might end up symbolically 'washing ashore' somewhere and letting himself die of heartbreak, for fuck's sake!

Because merpeople are dramatic as fuck and they feel the loss of friends and family in a way that's devastatingly sharp. Being rejected by a queerplatonic or romantic partner - or having them die on them - is the worst type of injury one could inflict upon them!

When he'd sung about having also survived, no thanks to Geralt, he'd fully meant it! That loss had nearly killed him!

If he wants to survive this, he needs to figure out a way to keep Radovid safe, and then make sure that Geralt and the rest of his family are safe also, because he doesn't know how he'd manage to continue to live in this world if the war ends up taking everything from him in a way where all hope would be lost of ever getting any of them back!

[voidfanatic]

Mmm Tank (Traducción en texto alternativo)

-

Eng: (I hope nobody has done this before, if that's the case, I'll give credit just tell me). The image I downloaded was crunchy that's why it looks like that 👻

Esp: (Espero que nadie haya hecho esto antes, si es el caso, daré crédito solo dime). La imagen que descargué estaba crunchy es por eso que luce así 👻

[screwpinecaprice]

She's on a hospital bed, amnesiac after an accident and she's having a crush on this man who is apparently her husband.

@dragonuva's part on an art trade with them from last year! 🥰 It's based on the first chapter of Chiptune by Newlense.

Guys. This fanfic is my favorite FAVORITE connverse fic and I love it so much I don't care if the last update was in 2020 nor if it's never going to be continued. It's so tender and the angst whalloped my guts in the right places. 😭💕

[biffhofosho]

If you don't hear from me again, it's because I have shuffled off this mortal coil and descended into madness on the wings of a fallen angel named Mito.

[spiderwarden]

You know who would be really useful during the battle when Halsin is getting Thaniel back? Minthara. Minthara would.

[horrornvnfan]

To Need Another Person

I wrote yet another Restart Heart Fanfic! This is a sequel to The First Night, and takes place on the morning of Day 2 of the game. This is starring my MC, Maria Dust, and Ezra and Steph.

This fic is a re-write two scenes from the game put together, so canon lines/events/actions are used here or have been edited to fit the characterization of Maria Dust, but credit must go to the original. Please check out Restart Heart and support the dev here @restartheartvn, the game and the story are really amazing!

If you're interested in Maria in the context of this game, click here.

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You woke up to Ezra's limbs intertwined with yours. And the sound of vibration.

Reluctantly, you open your eyes. Your body felt so sore you thought you were going to crumble into pieces. You feel like that was an injustice, considering all the nonsense you were already going to have to go through from here on out, with cancelling an entire wedding and dealing with your family.

At least you got to experience some kindness yesterday. Ezra, Sammy, and Blaire's trip to the cafe and beach was more pleasant than you expected, considering your emotional state and your status of just being their acquaintance at the time. And then last night, with Ezra… he was so understanding. He even made you laugh.

You were grateful for it. But now that you were awake, there was no slipping back into a comfortable sleep with Ezra by your side.

You tried to move only to get a groan of displeasure from Ezra. He did not want you to leave and in the moment he reminded you of a cat. He grumbled, "Your phone has been going off for the past like, 10 minutes."

You blushed hard as you heard his voice in your ear, deep and mildly annoyed. His voice was normally pretty deep, but this was just insane. And you don't know why you didn't expect it to sound so close. You were cuddling.

Maybe you should stop cuddling. Act cool, for a change.

"How much has it been going off?" You ask as you carefully attempt to wriggle away.

Before he could respond, your phone started buzzing again. You let out a soft groan and reached over to grab the vibrating device. It was a text from Steph. Unusual. You opened the notification to see what the fuss was about.

Steph: [I'm outside, open the door in 10 seconds or I'm breaking it down.]

"Oh, it's just Steph," You yawned. "They're outside."

The gears in your head, previously turning painfully slow in your tiredness, sped up tenfold. Both you and Ezra jolt up and look at each other awkwardly. You couldn't help but stare at Ezra for a moment before quickly jumping out of bed, only for your legs to falter momentarily. What happened to your plan to act cool?

Before you could fall like a tragic baby deer, Ezra's arms shot out and caught you. An oddly tender moment passed as they looked at you a warm blush dusting their cheeks. However, the banging on your front door took precedence.

Embarrassed, you flung yourself from Ezra's hold, and shouted, "STEPH! Stop it! Give me a minute!"

You fumbled out of the bedroom, Ezra trailing behind, and as you swung the door open, still in pajamas and your hair a mess, you came face to face with Steph, who stared at you in disapproval.

"Why the fuck didn't you answer your phone??" They demanded, more cross than you expected.

"I just woke up!"

"And who is that?" Steph glared past you, somehow offended by Ezra's presence in your apartment.

Before you could turn around to introduce them, you felt Ezra gently place his hand on your shoulder. "I'm Ezra, I kept sugarsnap company last night."

You were about to turn to Ezra to nod in confirmation and continue the introductions, but Steph's reaction right in front of you kept you from looking back. They were shifting uncomfortably. And it was strange. Steph was practically never intimidated or made uncomfortable by someone else.

Feeling awkward, you gently nudged Ezra out of the way and stepped aside. "Come inside! I'm sorry for not waking up earlier, y'know how it is."

Steph nodded absentmindedly as they stepped into your apartment. For a moment you just stared at them, the fogginess of sleep and the sudden adrenaline of running out of bed starting to wear off. Steph was here. In your apartment. After what felt like ages of ignoring you or being too busy to even text. Your heart felt tight. And with Ezra here as well, already having comforted you last night over completely different emotional issues, you felt painfully awkward.

Steph wasn't looking at you when they said, "Yeah… did you mean to leave your window open?"

"Huh?" You followed Steph's gaze to your open living room window. "Oh! No, my roommate, Chris, usually leaves our windows open. No idea why, never got the chance to ask." You quickly moved to the window to slide it closed. "I wish he wouldn't, though. I know most bugs are dead or gone this time of year, but I really don't need to risk an infestation right now."

Steph turned back to you and smiled nervously. "Well, how are you feeling? You didn't text me much so I thought you might have… had a bad reaction to what happened."

You didn't like how they said that. You did text them yesterday. You called them multiple times the night of the party, when you were drunk and crying and Chris had to get you home. And now Steph was being vague?

Ezra spoke then. "No need to beat around the bush, I know what he did."

Oh. Right, Ezra being here was why Steph wasn't being direct. There wasn't another reason, like Steph not caring. You needed to stay calm. Steph was here.

And you could see Steph's growing discomfort. "Can I talk to you alone, Maria?"

"Yes," You said too quickly. Sheepish, you smiled at Ezra. "Ezra, Steph and I will be in my room for a bit. You can make yourself comfortable, or eat anything in the fridge."

Steph grabbed your hand and hurried you into your room as Ezra watched.

You felt tumultuous. Steph was here, and that was so important to you. You'd missed Steph so much for so long, and finally, they were here. You needed them. You had no idea how to say it. How to not burden them or make them want to distance themselves from you again. But this was a good first step, you could ask Steph to grab dinner with you, or watch a movie, just a time where you could talk, and--

Steph was scowling at you. You froze, surprised. You'd gotten into your head a bit for a second there, but why were they upset? Steph stared at you incredulously. "Are you serious, Maria?"

"I-- What? What do you mean?"

"While I get what happened really fucking sucked, what the hell was that?" They were pissed at you. "A fucking stranger? Really?"

Shit. You completely forgot about how this would look to Steph, having Ezra spend the night. Your body felt cold, and you gripped your arm tightly. "Ezra isn't a stranger. We're friends now. And we didn't have sex. They just sleptover."

You glare at the ground for a bit, resentment bubbling in your gut. Why did Steph accuse you of that? It's not like you, and they know it. And it wouldn't be fair of them to be angry if you did sleep with Ezra anyways. Your sex life was not their business. "What does it matter?" You continue. "It's not like you were here. You decided that work was more important than my wedding shower."

"Are you KIDDING me?!" Steph scoffed at you, causing your gaze to meet theirs. It was a bit of a low blow, and you knew it. Steph's schedule had always been a point of contention with them, but you were mad. And you were hurt.

They said, "You know I would've rather been there than at work, but I can't exactly quit my job for a fucking party, Maria!"

"It's not just a fucking party," You said through a clenched jaw. "It was one of the most important events in my life and you couldn't take off a single day."

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" Steph countered flippantly.

Your face was getting hot, and your impulse control was dropping. So you asked them something you'd wanted to know for months. "Steph, why did you never RSVP to my wedding?"

A deafening silence fell over the room. They were still displeased with you, but there was a new emotion there now. They hesitating. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

Steph's unwavering gaze made you squirm a bit. "Alright. I didn't RSVP because… I didn't want you to marry Kenneth."

Your mind went blank, astonishment temporarily replacing your anger and pain.

They went on. "In fact, I hate Kenneth. Even before all of this shit came to light."

"What?" Your mind was racing. They hate Kenneth? Since when? College? High school? Not younger, couldn't be before then, not for all this time. How could they be saying such earth-shaterring things so blandly, like it was something casual?

They said, "I know that if I came to your wedding, I would not be able to stop myself. So I decided, for your sake and your happiness, to not go."

You rasped a question. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I did."

"No." You said so harshly that Steph took a step back. "No, you really fucking didn't, Steph. You were always supportive. I can't think of a single time that you didn't support this marriage. You even helped him pay for an engagement ring!"

"Yeah, because he couldn't even remember your favorite fucking color, Maria!" Steph snapped defensively. "He didn't know what kind of jewelry you liked, and just assumed the gaudiest, most expensive thing would work! He thought you wanted all this extravagant, outlandish, and down right stupid stuff for the proposal."

Steph went on, unloading their feelings as if they'd been holding in a secret and were relieved to breathe again. "I helped him so much because I didn't want you to be sad. I didn't want him to fucking fail. Yet even with all that fucking help I gave him he still went and got your little sister pregnant."

Your heart was hammering. You couldn't hear much else besides the blood roaring in your ears. Steph showed up two days late after your life was ruined. Steph had scolded you for finding company in someone else when you were vulnerable. Steph had been avoiding you for months. Steph never even thought you should marry Kenneth to begin with. And now Steph was talking like that fact was their burden all this time.

Your voice came out strangely calm, teetering on the edge of fury, when you asked, "You know I was with someone who couldn't even remember my favorite color, and you just let me stay with them?"

It was like something clicked in Steph's head, and they faltered. "I just… I--"

The steadiness of your voice wavered only slightly, still holding back to bulk of your anger. "No, you knew how little he cared and you just let things stay that way? You let me stay with him?"

"Maria, I--"

Unable to hold back any longer, you shouted, "You didn't think to say, 'hey Maria! In case you were doubting the biggest decision of your life, here's proof that you're not crazy! You really ARE going to be miserable if you marry him because Kenneth doesn't give two shits about you!'"

Steph's eyes were wide, and they almost looked hurt. "You thought you were going to be miserable?"

"Of course I thought that!" You snapped. "I never asked for this marriage! I was doing it for my family!"

Steph definitely looked hurt now. You didn't know if they were guilty or if they pitied you, but it didn't matter. You were so, so angry. And you couldn't stop yourself from crying as you ranted on. "You are my best friend! I listen to you more than anyone! I would've heard you out of you just TALKED to me! Instead, what, you shut me out entirely because you thought I was an idiot for marrying a man like that?!"

"No, Maria--"

"Or maybe it IS all my fault!" You were hysterical. "Maybe I should've tried even harder to talk to you, and to stop the marriage sooner! But you're just pretending like you care when I called you the night it happened, and when I texted you yesterday morning and night, to no response."

A long silence went on after that. You weren't looking at Steph. You couldn't. You furiously rubbed at your face to force yourself to stop crying.

Distantly, almost monotonously, you heard Steph say, "It's my job to care about you. And I do. It's not pretending, Maria."

Bitterly, and uncaring if Steph heard you or not, you muttered, "You've done a poor job of it lately."

You heard a strained intake of air, and knew that you had hurt Steph saying that. Maybe it was deserved. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe you were both huge fuck-ups who needed each other, and maybe you needed to be apart. You couldn't entertain any possibility right now. You could already feel your overwhelming emotions starting to shut you down. With your face still covered by your hands and sleeves, you could vaguely see Steph's shadow on the floor, and that they were reaching out for you, but stopping just before contact.

"I'm sorry." They said quietly, and you saw their shadow move away. The floorboard creaked as they got close to your door. "You have my number if you need me."

You listened as they left your room. You listened as the front door clicked open and shut. And you crumpled onto the floor of your room.

You held yourself tightly as silent cries wracked you, willing the pressure to be enough to calm down already. You always hated crying, feeling so helplessly out of control. You didn't know why you yelled at Steph like that. You shouldn't have. You said way too much. You didn't say nearly enough. But you were so frustrated with everything, and so hurt, you couldn't stop yourself.

Hot tears streamed down your face as soft footsteps drew near. Deliriously, you thought it was Steph, but as warm arms enveloped you into a hug, you recognized instantly that you were wrong.

Fucking hell Maria, you actually forgot that Ezra was here. That's another tally for you being a rotten friend. Still, you let yourself settle into their embrace and let out a soft sob. Here they were, comforting you yet again, when you didn't really deserve it. Their body was warm, their hug gentle yet firm enough to help you feel a semblance of security. You needed to push down your shame for now, and focus on your breathing.

Ezra's voice was muffled against you as they said, "It'll be okay, sugarcube."

They let you cry for a while, before moving their hands to cup your face and look at you. You flinched at the sudden touch, and while they paused, they didn't move away, holding you so lovingly -- if you could even use such a word -- that it was almost cruel. With their thumbs, they wiped your tears, and your body relaxed further, very unused to such contact, but unwilling to reject how soothing it felt.

Once again, you had far too much you needed to say, and far too few words to do it. You let out a sad sigh. "Ezra…?"

"Yes, sweetness?"

"I'm sorry if this--"

"No. Don't apologize. I know what you're going to say. 'I'm sorry if this is a lot to handle since we hardly know each other.'" Ezra's hands moved down to your arms, rubbing softly, and they leaned foward to press a small kiss onto your forehead, making you jolt with surprise. Ezra leaned away again and stared into your eyes with a kind smile. "Please don't fret too much about them. You texted them and they never responded… What kind of friend does that?"

Your face fell and you looked away from their gaze. You didn't want to talk about Steph right now.

Ezra carried on. "I'll be here for you whenever you need me, okay?"

You nodded silently as Ezra helped you into a stand, before pulling you into another hug. Distantly, you wondered if maybe it would be fine to rely on Ezra a little more. They had been nothing but patient and genuine with you, supporting you through chaos despite not knowing you well at all. And their hugs were nice, so unlike physical touch with other people you don't know well. Maybe… Maybe it would be okay.

You suddenly felt a gentle bite on your shoulder, and you let out a surprised yelp, reeling back with a bewildered expression.

Ezra who gave you a playful smile. "Sorry, you're just really cute…"

Baffled, you said, "I'm cute enough to chomp??"

Ezra gave a short laugh and buried their face into your neck, squeezing you tighter. "Yeah. You are." Their face felt warm against your skin. Were they… blushing?

Before you could ponder this interaction further, you heard a phone buzz, and Ezra pulled away from you. You watched as Ezra pulled his phone out of his pocket and began reading the notification, then he re-read it. Their face fell, and he stood up suddenly. "Sugarsnap I am so sorry, but I really have to go. Eliana -- my little sister -- needs me."

Before you could say anything or even stand up, Ezra grabbed his stuff and was already halfway out your front door. However, he quickly gave you a tightlipped smile as he shut your apartment door behind him.

You sat on the floor in stunned silence, bizarrely calm again, with streaks of dried tears on your face, wild hair, and a terribly hoarse throat.

What on Earth were you going to do today?

[deus-ex-mona]

yurusanta: the ✨gift✨ that keeps on ✨giving✨

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

.

[hero-of-the-wolf]

I know this is incredibly random but I wanted to let you know that It's Fine, Don't Worry About It chapter 4 has literally been an open document file on my computer for the past month and will get finished eventually.

I'M SO EXCITED FOR THAT 👀👀👀👀👀👀 but please take care of yourself dude 🙏🏼 I hope everything's well with you 🫶

[apple-grass-and-smiles]

First Sentence Game

I promised you I'd do this, @sisterofficerlucychen. It's only been 10 days, which is kind of a record for me.

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Tagging (hopefully I'm not misremembering that any of you write fic) @chenlucys, @violetsandmagpies, @daisyejones, @whitesunlars, and @electricbluebutterflies.

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Bearing the Unbearable Weight (The Rookie):

In the days immediately after the break-up (the collapse of her world) Lucy logs a record number of hours at the LAPD shooting range.

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Nothing More Than His Wife (The Rookie):

The new Mrs. Tim Bradford is haunted by a ghost. It follows her everywhere, popping up in the most random spots. The ghost is at the nearby Korean food truck, in her husband’s car, hanging out in the park they had a picnic at. The ghost is not a particularly malicious one, but Mrs. Bradford can’t help but feel like she’ll never measure up against it, against the specter of Lucy Chen. 

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i used to know my place was the spot next to you (now I'm searching the room for an empty seat) (The Rookie):

The hardest part of Lucy’s day is going to bed. Two weeks earlier, before the breakup, when going to bed meant making funny faces at Tim as they brushed their teeth together and slow kisses and cuddling, it had been the highlight of most days. She had looked forward to bed. Now she brushes her teeth alone and crawls into a bed that is just hers. Or almost just hers. 

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How I Show I Love You (The Rookie):

Tim doesn’t know the last time he spent time doing something solely because he enjoyed it (other than watching a couple hours of football each week). Never mind doing something fun with another person. And certainly never with a rookie who hadn’t even passed their one-year mark. But he also hasn’t trained someone like Chen before. 

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i get along without you some nights (Prodigal Son):

The Christmas tree was already up when Martin was… (Jessica was still trying to find the polite term for it, trying different ones on) taken away. Normally Jessica insisted on no hints of Christmas in the home until the Thanksgiving dinner had been cleared from the table, but Malcolm had campaigned valiantly to put it up early. As per usual, Ainsley had joined in, asking Jessica to make an exception to her rule and then Martin had given Jessica that look, the one that had been crumbling her resolve since the day they met. 

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Cotard's Delusion (or the Process of Being Resurrected) (The Rookie):

I am dead. It’s the only thought ringing in Lucy’s mind as she closes her eyes, leans her head forward, finding no place to rest in the barrel Caleb has determined will be her last resting place.

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Dirtying the Slates (The Rookie):

So, Bishop and Lopez, or mostly Lopez, rig the roundup so Tim wins. Interesting , Lucy thought. She twirled her ring on her finger for half a moment, considering if it was her place to comment or not, before throwing caution to the wind and interjecting. “Wait, uh, are you guys trying to rig it so that Tim wins?” (Rule one of getting information in an interrogation: start with a question you already know the answer to.)

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Wrapped Around Your Finger (Like a Ring) (The Rookie):

Chen would not stop messing with her ring and Tim was a matter of seconds from using his TO Voice to go and confiscate it. Even winning the round-up (again) hadn’t put him in a good enough mood that the reflection from the light of the food trucks bouncing off the opal ring wouldn’t annoy him. Chen clearly was not aware that her rhythmic movements meant he was hit in the eye by a reflected ray of light every four seconds. 

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In Search of Air (The Rookie):

During her sophomore year of college, Lucy had had to memorize all of the symptoms of a panic attack as listed in the DSM-V. Technically the assignment was just to learn four or five of the 13 listed in the manual, but Lucy, ever the perfectionist, had been determined to memorize them all, to always be just that much better at psychology than the people around her. So, when she found herself once again locking herself in one of Mid-Wilshire precinct’s utility closets, it was that list of 13 symptoms she thought back on. 

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Through a Glass Darkly (Prodigal Son):

Malcolm Whitly's favorite color has always been red. It’s warm and bright and passionate, just like him. It’s the first color you notice in any crowd. It calls out to you and then pulls you headfirst into its world. His father had a red sweater when Malcolm was about 10. It was the softest thing Malcolm had ever felt. Martin said he had had to throw it out one night after spilling tea on it, but Malcolm had always loved that sweater. He still does. He has spent the intervening years searching for one that was similar so he could buy one for himself. He has loved the color for almost three decades now with absolutely no sign of his opinion changing any time in the near future. Red reminds Malcolm of his father and he loves his father. 

Malcolm Bright's favorite color has been blue most of his life. It’s calming and stable and peaceful, all the things he strives to be. It’s a color that can fade into the background when needed but also draw your eye if you’re looking for it. It’s always there to be beside you when you need it. 

[edge-oftheworld]

help i'm listening to an orchestral arrangement of holiday by green day and i can't deal with it

[plantenjoyer]

I SWEAR I KEEP TRYING TO DO ART BUT THEN SOMETHING GETS IN THE WAY AND THEN I PROCRASTINATE AND THEN SIX MONTHS PASS

[fauxpaux]

A thing I drabbled while trying to finish this dang final chapter of the Bodyswap au. It went nowhere and solely exists to braindump words. enjoy? i guess?

What does Mondo think of him? What does he think of himself? In this theoretical universe in which nothing is wrong. In this universe in which high school is normal. One is the enforcer and the other the antagonist and yet they mesh together. Mondo sees an innocence within Kiyotaka that mirrors an inane discomfort within himself. A strength he was forced to take on like a burden, yet does not project an infantilization onto Kiyotaka, but rather a wish of a simpler life than his own he received. From Mondo’s own perspective, Kiyotaka is the normality. The representation of a perfect classmate and a perfect, moral high ground. His execution is flawless and his attitude, while poignant and sharp, is well-meaning with good intent. Aside, there is indeed a kinship within the two specific opposites. The desire to hold those close within a safety. To take the metaphorical bullet. And like two folding upon each other to receive the pain in another's stead, it comes with a herding of a flock. Harsh hand when it necessitates, but a general understanding and love for those close enough to receive it. But then, what does Kiyotaka think of himself? No doubt there is a high standard to reach. A peak, of sorts, that is desired out of himself. Drawn from within his understanding of the world, forced, of course, by a familial history he is well aware of. In such, there is not just a desire for perfection but the need for it. A specificity that could drag him deep into a despair if he dared let himself go so far as to crumble underneath the pressure he puts on himself, one that is also, in some cases forced upon him. One he accepts with grace and a wobbly smile. Because it is all he knows how to do. Here, however, there are buffers. Exceptions to these laws of Ishimaru’s nature that refuse the perfection. Friends, such as Mondo, whom while motivate him to reach that peak, force his hand in understanding that he is only a person and nothing more. He may see himself as said enforcer, an embodiment of the laws in which he upholds, the rules, if you will. Yet with his connection to others, his friends, there comes a messier understanding of himself that does not have the chance to show elsewhere. Without negative influence, there is room to harbor emotion. Allowing a flourishing of oneself that may only appear in the right conditions. Unisolated, comforted, happy.