#..... a long long long tale. i'm sorry

[igneouswyvern]

when sorey said "i won't let you be my sub lord because this isn't your dream and i don't want you getting roped into something you don't personally believe in" and mikleo came back with divine artifact in hand and strengthened resolve to become a sub lord and he said "this is my dream too" but what he really meant was "you are my dream." and "you are my everything. your dreams are my dreams. your beliefs are my beliefs. and i would go to the ends of the earth and back just to be with you. and i would give my life and my everything just to see your dreams realized because i know it means the world to you and you are the world to me."

and when sorey says "i want to create a world where humans and seraphim can coexist" he means "my bond with mikleo is so great that i believe every human should have the opportunity to have a bond like that. everyone should get to have what i have. humans and seraphim were meant to be together and i know this because mikleo and i were meant to be together. and i would go to the ends of the earth and back and give up everything if it means the rest of the world has a chance at someday having what i have. because every human deserves a mikleo."

mikleo's "i would give the world for you" and sorey's "i need to give you to the world."

[owlphibiaisthebest15]

Hi guys! I want to talk about a minor problem I have with Amphibia and how they could've been done better. I will not be talking about any of the big problems that people have already complained about, like Sasha and Marcy's lack of screentime, their character arcs, parents, nobody talking about Marcy after "True Colors", yada yada yada, because we don't need another post like that, and I want to keep this overdue rant as short as possible. This is based on my personal opinions along with a few others, but feel free to disagree with me if you want. But with further, let us begin...

Anne almost always gets way too easily forgiven for f*cking up.

Okay! This one may be a hot take because I have never seen another person complain about this. But this has been eating me away for MONTHS, and if no one else is going to say it, then I will. While this occasionally extends to some other characters depending on the episode. The one I want to talk about most is Anne. Now, at the start of the series, Anne was pretty much a jerk with a heart of gold. She was selfish, bratty, lazy, and irresponsible, but she did learn from the mistakes that she made and became a true hero by the end of the series. While some of these flaws and mistakes are not worth talking about, there are still others that are actually worse than what the show's narrative portrays them to be.

They may not be as bad as leading a toad army to invade the capital city, burying the only thing that could get Anne home, or sending your friends to another world on purpose. Anne has still made some pretty questionable decisions, even to the point where they often cross the line.

Here's a list of some of the worst things Anne Boonchuy has ever done from Season 1 and 2:

Breaking Hop Pop's favorite cane that also happens to be a keepsake of his father and grandfather all while making fun of him.

Manipulating Sprig into taking Bessie the family Snail on a Joyride without reading. Which is like someone taking a car out for a spin without a driver's permit.

Forcing Sprig to marry Maddie despite his obvious discomfort for Pizza Dough and later forces him to date Ivy while he's still engaged to Maddie.

Faking being sick to get out of farm duty, which led the Plantars getting sick themselves and even thought they were all going to die from red leg.

Slacking off while she was supposed to be protecting the frozen townsfolk, while aware of what happens to one of them while they're frozen. Which, of course, led to Polly almost getting eaten by a giant weasel.

Causes massive property damage with Polly while on the streets of Newtopia, and later breaks into Newtopia University in hopes of finding a rad college party. The second one was Polly's idea, but Anne had no problem going along with it.

A team effort along with her frog family. Sending a giant chicken to attack Wartwood. Which BTW can create tornadoes, breathe fire, and even turned their loved ones into stone, all because they forgot to buy everyone gifts. Sure, Anne was against the idea, but she still went along with it.

What do characters usually respond with when Anne admits her mess ups?! "It's okay! You're good! What you did was serious, but it doesn't matter that we almost died, as long as you learned your lesson."

Though Anne still at least got a lot better, as the worst things she's done in Season 3 were covering up some major plot points from her parents, robbing a museum to get a clue on how to find a way back to Amphibia, and tricking Blair the Balloonist into flying a hot air balloon. Though, the first one is still a little f*cked up, but she did have selfless reasons for doing these, and she came clean for 2/3 of these.

But still, 90% of this show is just a lighthearted slice of life cartoon, but when it shifts to its dark story driven and plot twisting side, this is where the narrative (and by some extent Anne herself) gets pretty hypocritical. It's pretty much when Anne messes up and lies to other characters. It's a simple error in judgment. But when other main characters such as Sasha, Marcy, and even Hop Pop do the same to her, first they gotta face hell for it, and then they get their redemption arc.

Yes! They did do some serious sh*t, and Anne had a right to be mad at them. But it seems that other characters are just not allowed to even stay mad at Anne when she does pretty similar sh*t. I mean, yes, she does try to make up for it, and yes, she admits what she's done most of the time, and eventually, she does become a better person from them. But so have Hop Pop, Sasha, and Marcy. But again, they didn't get the protagonists treatment. They got hurt and thrown around like ragdolls because of one or two big mistakes, and even that wasn't enough.

While Anne sometimes faces some consequences for her actions, like breaking Hop Pop's heirloom cane with HP giving her dish duty for a month (Cmon man! You should've given her way more than that!), gets banned from an arcade because she threatened to eat newt kids for cutting in line (which is not important), and most importantly, gets stranded in Amphibia after being peer pressured by her friends to shoplift it, all on her 13th birthday. Which I guess was enough for karma itself to feel so bad for her that she will hardly ever worry about facing any lasting consequences for her misdeeds ever again. While karma beats the cr*p out of others who would dare lie and betray our precious protagonists, even when they have sympathetic reasons for doing so.

Speaking of, this leads to me to clarify something that some fans have misinterpreted since the beginning of the series. The flashback scene in the second episode, "Best Fronds," was intended to show where Anne's distorted views on friendship and some of her toxic traits come from. Not to justify every single bad decision Anne has ever made, like what some fans think.

While I'm not gonna say that Anne was just as bad as Sasha before Amphibia, as it does show that Anne had her own personal flaws that she had to get through without depending on her friends. Who were more enabling her flaws than causing them.

However, while the show does try to show that Anne wasn't exactly much better in their friend dynamic than they were. For the reasons I mentioned earlier, it instead paints Anne as the least toxic one or not being toxic at all. With them only making a handful of moments that show that even after their betrayals, Anne still isn't much better than them. But the usual wacky slice of life narrative in her character development episodes downplays the severity of her actions, with Anne only just getting an emotional lesson after nearly getting everyone killed, and some of the said lessons being brought up in a few episodes to test her character or as examples to show others how much she has grown.

Now, I'm going to do some comparisons between Amphibia and The Owl House. While there are several things that Amphibia did better than TOH and about an equal amount of things TOH did better than Amphibia. One of those things that The Owl House did better than Amphibia was the writers treating each and every character fairly. The characters make mistakes and learn from them without the narrative downplaying the seriousness of their mistakes, and it isn't always "Okay! You're forgiven! What you did was serious, but it doesn't matter that we almost died. You learned your lesson, and that's what matters." While it doesn't give other characters the short end of the forgiveness stick for doing similar sh*t. With that, it also makes the character arcs a little bit better, in my opinion.

However, I'm not saying that Anne's character development was bad or that Matt Braly is treating Anne like how some see Alex Hirsch did with Mabel. The show did alright with changing a bratty teenager with flawed views of friendship into a true and selfless hero. All of what I described seems to what TV Tropes would call "Protagonist Centered Morality," and if I'm being honest, but because of that reason, I don't find Anne to be the most appealing character to me. I'm sorry! I know that a lot of you love her, and she's the second most popular character in the show; with the first being Marcy (my favorite), but I don't even dislike her either. I just feel that the narrative could've done better in treating the characters more fairly, like how TOH did with their characters. I really want to like Anne more than I do now, but for what I described, it makes it kinda hard for me to.

That's it for my opinions on this. This was longer than I thought, so if you read it this far or read it at all. You either think that I have a point and should do more of this or my analysis stinks, and I should never speak my dumb mind again. I'll probably see how this goes either way. If anybody else here still cares about this show.

[lunarharp]

into the deep end - 30k T orufrey fic, focusing on memory trauma, disability, and romance.

the sweet oblivion of the victim, the poisoned freedom of the other.

for one moment - it had felt like two parts returned - the needed reunion of two disparate halves. no more secrets, no more pain.

the moment you get to give back what you never wanted to take. that moment, under the night-blooming flowers, when they had both let out the same single broken sigh of relief.

but they were never whole to begin with, were they?

qifrey swore he wouldn't say 'sorry' to this man any more if he could help it - sorry is cheap now. he didn't want to be in a position ever again where you only have 'sorry' left. so he just looks down into the threads of his blanket, strains his eye until it hurts, feeling his insides - his throat, heart and head - burn with pain. he expects more, but olly says nothing.

olly says nothing.

[kit-williams]

Hello! The Cuckoo Anon is back again!

Something more Fluffy with some existentialism sprinkled in I've had stewing in my mind. Could also be interpretted as soft yandere. Hope you enjoy.

You'd never considered getting an Astarte, and quite frankly you'd have to admit it came down to both reasonable and unreasonable factors.

Reasonable being cost, both in time and finance. Even if most Space Marines could care for their own basic needs, you'd feel bad if you couldn't provide other enrichments. Art Supplies and Makeup for Emperors Children or Blood Angels, a proper training area for World Eaters and War Hounds, nests dark and secluded enough for Night Lords or Raven Guard. All things to consider when bringing home a new large friend.

Even if you weren't financing a personal sparring ring in your back yard there would be fees and regulations to consider, not to mention travel to and from these places alongside your already cramped schedule.

In less reasonable factors, or so you thought them to be, was fear.

Dying to an Astarte was seen much like dying to the mishandling of an exotic pet or by an unfortunate encounter with a wild animal.

At worst more onus seemed put on the human for poor decision making, at best it was deemed a tragic accident that nothing much could be done about in the aftermath.

There was still culling of known human killers. And your mind wrestled not with the morality of putting down a dangerous being, but how strange it seemed for such powerful intelligent beings to be at odds with their niche.

Some feral, some domestic, some neither, yet all of them...all of them had to be human on Some level right?

They're just larger, and speak differently, but all are hominid forms under that ceramite so why...why-

You could feel your brain starting to hurt, as it often did when these thoughts surfaced.

Well right now you didn't want to think deep hard thoughts about the mysterious beings you shared the world with.

Instead you were going to let your skates do the thinking for you, and let your brain get swept along in a sea of bright colors, cheesy music and dancing on wheels.

Your local roller rink wasn't as close as you might like it, but the drive was worth it so you could practice your hobby. After a long hiatus due to personal life things, you needed to clear your head with some mindless fun.

While not a professional by any means you'd become a regular here, and you have to say, you picked up some nice tricks over the years.

As you walked in the place was a buzz with the weekend crowd. Sunday might be the less busy of the two days, but there was still a lively population within.

You didn't mind though, the rink was actually a place you preferred to visit while busy. Too few people and it just felt dead, too many and you'd struggle to not feel overwhelmed.

Truly, the perfect happy medium.

...aside from the hulking Astartes accompanying their various humans both on and off the skating floor.

This was something you were used to at this point, but it still felt awkward maneuvering not just around regular sized people, but their gigantic body guards, especially when you needed the restroom and already had your skates on.

Then there were the times children would approach you asking how to do certain tricks. Explaining to a child how you learned to skate backwards was already difficult with the loud music, now you had to sweat under the intense gaze of their family Space Marine keeping an unflinching eye on you.

And don't even get started about the encounters you had accidentally bumping Into others.

People are clumsy, people on wheels even moreso, and you'd be a damn rich fool if somebody paid you for everytime you narrowly avoided a child with no situational awareness while on your own set of wheels.

Now multiply the fear of harming someone else by accident, by the fear of an angry protective space marine seeking retribution. Not a fun concept.

Fortunately, any mishaps you did have hadn't ended with a bolter stuck in your face or a chain sword through your spine. The rinks owners didn't allow weapons on the premises.

You supposed most human and astarte were intelligent enough to understand that a roller rink carries a higher than average risk of collision.

"Thank the throne for that." You muttered with a chuckle, using a phrase common enough amongst Astartes to have been translated. You pondered what kind of throne deserved such reverence, as you slipped on your pads and skates.

Once geared up, you stood, and with practiced ease carried your bag to the cubbies.

But now a new issue. The lower cubbies were full, you'd have to stretch to get your bag into the higher ones.

Shuffling onto your toe stops, you clumsily lifted your duffel bag upwards. Your balance was well enough, but it was a strain, and your bag seemed to protest by sagging down against your lifting, like a wet sack trying to fall out of your hands rather than overwhelm you with weight.

Which is exactly what Almost happened as your next bid to push/throw the bag into the desired cubby resulted in it bouncing and falling back to you.

If not for a large magenta ceremite hand coming over your head and catching the duffel with ease.

Your surprise was palpable, as you slowly turned your gaze; sliding up the arm to the hulking shadow behind you.

Note to self, don't wear both earbuds while distracted Ever again.

The magenta and gold clad space marine met your gaze. His helmeted face betrayed no emotion, and despite the chorus of the skating rink around you, it felt like all you could here was his breathing. Just that raspy...Breathing behind the mask.

Surely, he could hear your heart hammering, as he stood above you, arm still holding the duffel bag you'd been struggling with a moment prior against the cubbies.

More or less holding you against the cubbies as well.

Neither of you moved.

...

........

..................

Okay you couldn't take it anymore. "Can...can I help you?" You asked, trying to swallow the nerves that made your throat tight.

The marine, Emperor's Child your brain noted, twitched from his stillness and actually looked...surprised?

If you hadn't known any better you'd think he was just a stunned as you were a moment ago. As stunned as fully armored astartes could look anyway.

The minor expression passed in a moment, before he simply pushed it the rest of the way into the high cubby.

He said something in his Gothic tongue, seemingly an apology, then turned on his massive heel to walk back towards a small group of mostly other Emperor's Children.

As he left you found your voice. "Uh hey!"

The Astarte turned for a brief moment.

"Th-Thank you! I appreciate the help!" You called brightly over the music, making sure to smile inspite of your still frayed nerves. You even gave the big fella two thumbs up incase he didn't understand.

And then your embarassment won out and you quickly hurried onto the skating floor with your face burning and heart racing for an all New reason. 

Maybe...maybe having an Astarte wouldn't be so bad.

---

Meanwhile the space marine returned to his group of battle brothers. They'd discovered this recreational location, and more or less set up operations here after their leader bonded to one of the business's owners.

The influx of humans and their space marines made it an ideal location to conduct trades of goods and information.

While their situation was...unorthodox, I Ithio couldn't find it in himself to raise complaint.

His brother's were content, some even more so having found their bonds. He wouldn't deny he'd felt a certain yearning for that closeness. And now he may never get a chance to Feel that with how he'd fumbled his introduction.

"So...your little Bird of Paradise has finally reappeared." Salvali chortled.

Matisse chimed in. "They seemed to take the encountee better than you did brother! Regardless, I think a celebration is in order tonight!"

"Please stop," Ithio groaned, embarassed though he was grateful the humans around them couldn't understand nor see his burning face.

All he had to do was say Hello, and he couldn't even do that!

He'd tried So Hard to restrain himself when he'd seem them walk in. After so long of not seeing them he feared he'd have to take drastic measures to find them.

But they just Strolled back into his life and in turn he'd Strolled over, intending to help when the perfect moment had presented itself. Practically a gift wrapped golden opportunity to make himself known to his Bird of Paradise.

And he Froze. Frozen up! Iced over the moment their eyes met. By the throne and stars above he wanted to melt into the floor.

"Ah don't feel too bad, there's always next time." Salvali assured patting him on the back.

But would there be?! What if you were so put off you never came back. He'd have to find you, he Wouldn't live without you the way he had the first time you vanished. He couldn't take that! He couldn't-

"Uh Hey!" Ithio broke from his dooming and turned back to see you, calling to him.

Marines in general may not have the best grasp of the ancient terran languages, but Emperors Children are not general Marines. Language is but another artform, and Emperor's Children Pride themselves on their art.

"Th-Thank you! I appreciate the help!" Your sweet voice reassured him, your smile though unsteady was so genuine. You even gestured with your thumbs to show your approval before you scurried to the skating floor.

With his superior sight, and the aid from his helmets tech he could read the blush on your face, the race of your heart. All the other noise faded into the back of his mind as he replayed your words and watched you take the floor.

Oh...oh sweet Bird of Paradise.

FINALLY GETTING TO THIS ASK

I mean I think anything I write gets interpreted as soft yandere because that's what I'm good at. We will see where this goes if he gets thrown into the non canon husbandry (because that seems to be where the yandere husbandry boys and stupid sexy Gabriel hang out)

Husbandry Taglist: @egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog

You tried not to think too hard when you skated. Enjoying going round and round doing a few tricks just simple ones and you only fell onto your ass twice. But now you were probably about to eat wall as you skated to not run over a fallen child and you were moving so fast.

You still hit something hard but the way you're scooped up as well decreases the momentum you feel as if you just slammed into the wall or the other barrier. You feel weightless for a moment as you hear the whirl of your skate wheels still go as you brought your arms to your chest to try and minimize the impact damage. You look up at the ceiling with owlish eyes as you look up at green eye lenses that are looking down at you.

Ithio felt his hearts beating hard as he moved fast to get to his Bird of Paradise from smashing into the wall and getting bruised. He feels you move in his arms as you look at the small child who started this all... who was pulled out of the way but not fast enough that you nearly fell over them as you just close your eyes as Ithio watches you lay back in his arms coming down from the rush of adrenaline. The skate ref skates on over to make sure you're fine.

"Yeah I'm fine thanks to the Astarte." You say just patting the twin headed eagle on his breastplate and Ithio feels his hearts flutter happily. You lean on him as the referee skates off and she tries to hop out his arms and Ithio selfishly keeps you just a bit too high for you to feel comfortable to leave his arms. "Um... hey big guy?" You say nervously as the blank look of the helm looking down at her was bringing back that itch in the back of her head...

Ithio was starting to feel nervous... and his mind started to race again... what if she was already bonded? What if she didn't want him around. He feels his mind race and everything about him simultaneously melt as he was actually holding his beautiful Bird of Paradise... sure the dyes at the tips of her hair had faded but they were still so vibrant in his mind.

"Brother... are you okay?" Ithio heard Salvali over the vox.

"I'm fine." He lied as easily as he breathed. As he put her down.

"Well this is twice you helped me out... um I could buy you a drink?" You say trying to not feel the danger that being stared down by an Astartes brings.

"I never..." He finally speaks and his voice is so airy, "never got to tell you how pretty your hair was dyed when I saw you last here." He was happy he finally managed to tell the beautiful bird of paradise that of course her feathers were pretty... how marvelous she looked with her hair long and splayed against her back like a colorful bird's tail.

You smiled up at him not expecting that answer.

Salvali, Matisse, and the others watched from a distance.

"He's doing it... he's doing it!" Matisse said laughing softly.

"Well he's finally talking verses standing there holding her awkwardly." Salvali says as he watches Ithio put her down and her eyes seemed to be focused on him as she talks.

"Do you think it's a bond or just affection?" Matisse asks out loud to no one really but Salvali just shrugs.

"Does it matter? Feels like it's been ages since Ithio has been happy and see him fawn over a pretty bird makes me feel like we've got our brother back. Well it's almost time for Astartes skating are you going to try?" Salvali changes the topic and teases his brother. As the two laugh leaving Ithio to continue to cling to the words of his little bird.

[sketchz]

aaaa I've always wanted to do one of these!! My blorbos over time my beloved....

I grouped em according to some stuff, labels under cut:

[magistralucis]

"I forgive you." - Yenekh/Oltyx (for @courgowr)

(Drabble Oneshot for a prompt fill challenge, prompts available here.)

——————-

Even after all's been said and done there's one more thing that lingers, a guilt that has never gone away. Forgive me for what I have done, Oltyx often asks of his formal admiral, his hand upon a silver claw or a bloodied forehead, his own head bowed in shame. It is not enough that he overcame life and death for his atonement, it must be spelled out, or he is a sinner still. I was cruel and I was craven, and I had dealt with you unjustly.

Well, I forgive you, Yenekh had laughed the very first time. The following year Oltyx took him as consort. Yenekh has been nothing but patient with him since, repeatedly reassuring him that all had been long forgiven, the tips of his claws ticking fondly upon Oltyx's carapace. The king doesn't doubt that he means it, for the Razor is not by nature dishonest. But he's sure there must be more he can do for Yenekh, if not as a sinner than as one beloved, because as far as he's concerned Yenekh has always deserved the world.

It just feels hypocritical to claim this when he's destroyed it once before.

He's not doing it to be burdensome. He's like this because he loves Yenekh. His old lives feel so distant from him now (and are, since nothing is as close yet so far away as death), but here's yet another shortfall from those august times: Oltyx has no idea how to be good to his amours, for there was never a match made for him in Ithakas, nor did he and his brother ever entertain admirers. Frankly he's not even sure Djoseras ever knew the C of courtship. No one is left to teach Oltyx either way. He is very loved in Drazak, more than he was loved in his previous lives - which he now understands was more than he knew at the time - but he has not been in the position to love another as equals until now. And so the Fallen Lord contemplates, day after day, how he might truly be the friend and king that Yenekh deserves.

To talk about it, at least, without putting his guilt on the other's shoulders. All the time in the world is theirs and he still feels it to be slow learning. 

An opportunity arises on the next occasion he orders the bounty.

[Published 25/01/2024 - continued on AO3 here.]

[fancifulflora]

(SFW) Azad deserves a break and happiness so can I request a drabble where Azad's been having a hard day and gets a lot kisses as he cuddles with the Crown?

Terribly sorry that this took forever and a half- I literally spent a good few days trying to come up with ideas for this prompt that didn't feel too close to other things I've written. It may be a tad short since I'm still very much out of practice and am currently busy sacrificing my life to Baldur's Gate 3 lol

One would think that a childhood spent around the upper echelon of Arsurian nobility and the best tutors Arsur had to offer would have made dealing with the pests buzzing around the Crown easier for Azad.

The only thing it did manage, it seemed, was make the tired Captain all the more aware of the little plots and schemes being seeded around him. Not that he'd do much about it mind you, those matters were probably best left to the General or Sorcerer.

Still, it wouldn't hurt for some of these nobles to at least try a little harder. Even a child would be able to see through their thinly veiled promises and idle threats.

The sounds of nervous shuffling brought his attention back to one of the more persistent officials. Some lackey that was sent here to pressure the Crown no doubt. A gangly, unfortunate-looking one at that. Why were they still here?

"Were my words not clear enough?" Azad tilted his head a little as he studied the shorter figure before him, his glare making the poor official shrink back as if the look alone had struck them. "The Crown is currently preoccupied with important matters."

A complete and utter lie, but a believable one.

"Well, yes, I-I understand," The official stammered, fiddling with their hands as they frantically jerked their head left and right, searching along the empty corridors of the palace. Unfortunately for them, there'd be no one else to lend them aid at this time of night. "It's simply that the Mîrs were very insistent that-"

"They can and will wait till morning. Unless the situation is dire, I suggest you heed my previous warnings." Azad corrected his head, glowering down at the official who was quickly developing an interest in his khopesh, the metal shining under torchlight. "I will not repeat myself again, nor will I allow you to disturb the Crown's peace. Now go."

Though there was really no need to, Azad made the subtle movement of resting his palm against the hilt of his blade, finding a great deal of amusement as the official swallowed.

Without a moment of hesitation and with a flurry of apologies and deep bows, the poor sod dismissed themself. And once more, the hall was refilled with a blissful, beautiful silence. "... Are they gone?" A muffled voice called from behind him after a few minutes had passed. His Crown's voice.

"For now, yes," He nodded at an invisible guardsman, moving to enter the room just as said guard smoothly took his place outside the Crown's chambers.

"Thank goodness," The weary voice of the Crown breathed, paired with equally weary golden eyes. Azad couldn't exactly blame them either, anyone in their position would have been worn down by back-to-back meetings and a lengthy court session that, truth be told, went absolutely nowhere. Still, they managed a smile upon his entry. "I knew I could count on you to save the day."

"As much as I appreciate your thanks, it may be a little premature," Azad grinned, his posture relaxing now that he was off duty or as off duty as a Royal Protector could be at this time in the evening. "I've only postponed the inevitable. You'll have to deal with that mess in the morning."

A long groan came from his Crown, the ruler of Arsur springing up from their desk... only to wander a few steps and fall rather unceremoniously on their bed. "I need no reminders, thank you very much."

Azad stretched a little, feeling the slight pop of his joints that accompanied the familiar ache in his body from being so active for the past few days. The poor protector was so busy in fact, that the last time he could even remember being able to wind down like this with his Crown was...was...

Damn, that long, huh? He couldn't recall the last time they were together like this- being able to have each other all to themselves. The two still regularly trained together, but this was a different matter entirely.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" He then asked, clearing his mind and taking a seat beside his Crown who was now laid out on their side, facing him with a small frown on their face.

"I think I should be the one asking you that Azad," Their eyes studied him, the Royal Protector raising a small eyebrow under their scrutiny though he kept any retorts to himself. "You look... awful."

Surely he didn't look that bad, did he?

With a small laugh, he leaned against the back of the chair, glaring a little at his lover though his hazel eyes lacked any real fire. "You've got little room to speak yourself."

The Crown gave a small mock gasp, their body seeming to reenergize from the banter alone. "Excuse you, I thought I looked rather nice today!"

"Three meetings ago perhaps."

"Hmm... You didn't deny that I look nice though," With little effort, the Crown rolled on their stomach, elbows propping their body up while their chin nestled itself in the cradle of their hands.

Azad rolled his eyes at that one, the faintest warmth beginning to wash over his cheeks. "You're even worse than the Pale Sword somehow. Congratulations, it's no easy feat." Moving to stand and eager to change subjects, he gave his Crown a rather pointed look indicating that he was quite aware of their attempt to dodge his initial question. "Wait here, I'll go-"

"Oh no," Though still remaining playful, there was an intensity behind the Crown's words that did manage to make him pause for a moment, the ruler moving to get off their bed to push Azad back down into his seat with a gentle hand. "Stay right there. Get yourself comfortable while I go find someone to make a run to the kitchens."

The Crown didn't even wait for his answer, giving him the briefest of kisses before hurrying to the door to catch the attention of some passing servant.

Azad, knowing when to pick his battles and still worn from days of work, simply relented and carefully undid the fastenings on his weapons; getting up to leave them on the bedside table.

There were words traded between his Crown and a servant, the Captain pushing what he could hear to the back of his mind as he undid the clasps on his silver armor with practiced ease.

By the time the door shut once more, he had finished placing the last of his gear by the bed, Azad glancing over his shoulder at the Crown.

"It might take a while but I did request a small cup of mint tea for you."

"With honey?"

"Naturally," There with a hint of smugness to the words, the Crown getting comfortable once more with their back pressed against the plush pillows of their bed, only this time, beckoning Azad to join them.

The ruler of Arsur tried and failed to hide their smile when seeing their Royal Protector getting on the bed and settling by their side, his head pressed to their chest, drinking in the steady beat of his beloved's heart.

"That was easier than expected. Do you plan on saving the protests for later?"

Now it was Azad's turn to groan a little, closing his eyes to give them some much-needed rest. "Only because I'm far too worn out to argue against your wishes."

"You poor thing." The sarcasm was dripping as he felt light kisses press themselves against his cheeks and the corner of his lips. "Perhaps you want to trade with me? I could send you to tomorrow's court session in my stead, surely."

The mere thought alone could give him a headache, the Captain shaking his head. With his eyes still shut, he returned the kiss in kind. "Enticing as that idea sounds, I think the Mîrs are best left to you."

"Ughh."

"I'll be just beyond the doors if that is any consolation."

That got a laugh out of his Crown, Azad's smile pressing up against where he'd approximated the Crown's forehead would be. Another kiss traded between the two.

"Any chance I could convince you to stand guard, by my side, this time?"

Another kiss, this time from his partner, soft lips heating the edge of his jaw.

Ah.

The Captain opened his eyes with a slow blink and studied the grin plastered across his star's expression.

So that was how they were going to play it, bribery.

"Perhaps." Azad kept his voice light, resisting the urge to smile as another kiss was planted on him, this time on his brow.

"And now?"

"Still unconvinced." His voice was a soft velvet now, an observant gaze picking up the slightest shiver running down his Crown's spine.

Cute.

Another kiss was gifted to him, this time directly on his lips. His arms made their move, wrapping around the Crown. With the softest noise escaping his lover's lips, he pulled them into an embrace. The two practically melted together, a kiss the Crown had most certainly meant to be chaste and quick now slowing as the two got lost within one another.

Spirits, he truly did miss this, didn't he?

Somewhere along the sixteenth or so kiss was when Azad finally lost count, or rather, when he simply stopped bothering altogether. Time itself seemed beyond his comprehension as the Captain thoroughly savored each little reaction he could get out of his Crown. Not that he minded, of course, Azad being the type to take his time with his love.

He eventually pulled away for air, forehead pressed against his Crown's as the two recovered from their entanglement.

"Well? Have I successfully persuaded you?" The Crown's voice was lighter now, breathless, and a touch sultry, the glimmer of gold in their eyes swallowed by the darkness of their pupils.

Azad paused a moment to consider the question, weighing the bliss given to him by his love's presence with the hours of senseless prattling he'd have to endure.

"Perhaps. Though I might be able to give you a solid answer... after we eat."

The look of confusion on the Crown's face was priceless, the tender moment between them was cut off by a knock at the door. Azad seized the chance to get off the Crown and straighten himself out, though he did clock the look shot at him by his charge.

With a small turn away from his Crown who was undoubtedly disappointed by the interruption, Azad turned to answer the door feeling lighter than ever.

[pinkytoothlesso11]

Awaken chapter three of my post RoTT fix-it Trollhunter! Strickler AU!

Strickler, reluctantly accompanied by Jim and Toby, heads down to Trollmarket to confront his Destiny and be judged by the Soothsayer.

With surprising results.

Not to mention has a run in with Draal that may have painted a target on his back...

Jim has difficulty dealing with everything.

[fragrantpines]

Hello! Can i have Hu-Geng with the lemon tea prompt please? Love your writing!

Of course, it will be my pleasure 💕

(Link to prompt request/prompt list post)

lemon tea; what are mornings like with them?

Hu-Geng

▪︎ Mornings with Hu-geng are calm. He's prepared everything for you the night before to ensure that nothing will disturb your well deserved sleep, including himself.

▪︎ There are many mornings where he rises up earlier than you, a habit of his that has yet to break even now. He doesn't feel tired one bit, especially when he gets to wake up right next to you, watching you sleep peacefully with a quiet smile.

▪︎ When it's time for you to wake up, he's already dressed and ready to serve you. Want a change of clothes? Here, freshly ironed. Want him to brush your teeth? He'll laugh but do it in a heartbeat. Want him to give a good morning kiss? Of course, right away.

▪︎ Even when the two of you are preparing for the day together, he'll still tend to you first, making sure that you are dressed appropriately and well taken care of before him. It's in his genes (ingredients? seasoning?) to take care of you and he'll never give that job to anyone else, not even you ww

“Hu-geng, I can do this by myself.”

You look away bashfully, red dusting across your cheeks as Hu-geng buttons up your shirt in a swift manner. He looks up at you apologetically before replying, "I'm sorry, young master. It's just that I've been doing this for you for so long that my hands moved on their own.”

Despite saying that, he doesn't stop for even a minute. After buttoning up your shirt, he places you in front of the mirror and picks up a brush, making sure that it's of the utmost quality before combing through your hair, humming a soft lullaby that was starting to push you into the realm of unconsciousness.

“If you keep spoiling me like this, then I might become a bad spoiled child.” You whisper sleepily, speaking out whatever was on your mind without filter.

His combing hand suddenly pauses, making you lift your head up to meet his wide blown eyes in the mirror. If you looked closely, you could see small blush starting to form on his face, or was that the sunlight bouncing off his face? You didn't know and you didn't have time to ask when he suddenly bends down and kisses the time of your head, pulling away with an endearing smile stretched across his face.

“The young master will always be a good child in my eyes,��� he states seriously, honesty brightening his eyes. “As for being spoiled, I believe that it's only right for me to do at least this much as your companion and lover.”

Gently, he covers your hand with his own, intertwining your fingers together before pulling them to face him, pressing a firm kiss on the inside of your palm before smiling at you through the mirror.

“If this is considered as spoiling you, then please allow me to continue doing so. After all, you deserve to be spoiled even more than now, and I'll continue to take care of you no matter what befalls us in the future.”

[vt-scribbles]

Something seriously lacking in my art is the ability to tell a story in a single illustration.

I've gotten so used to drawing my characters standing around doing random things that I've never practiced telling a full tale/putting implications into my pieces that require more thinking/looking.

It also comes from a lower amount of details in my works by default [since I like to get pieces done fast], but I'm tired of using that as an excuse.

[goatlilly]

Adrien Has Bipolar

Everyone knows Adrien Agreste to be Miraculous Ladybug’s resident sad-boy: aka, he’s depressed. However, while Adrien clearly exhibits common symptoms of major depressive disorder on multiple occasions, there are also numerous occasions where he seems completely fine, and others where he acts downright energetic and perky. His behavior is kind of erratic sometimes, and some might chalk it up to bad character writing, but there is actually a real-world diagnosis for his behavior, and I don’t see nearly enough people discussing this, so I’m going to write you all an essay explaining exactly why I think Adrien has bipolar disorder.

            Okay, so for any of you out there who are unsure what bipolar is, it’s essentially a mood disorder that causes an individual to experience abnormal emotional highs and lows, usually spanning over long periods of time and causing shifts in the individual’s energy levels. These shifts in moods are generally described as either manic/hypomanic or depressive episodes. During a manic or hypomanic episode, a bipolar individual will experience a low-level increase of energy, often having trouble sitting still or thoroughly thinking things through. Hypomania can cause someone to be irrational, irritable, impulsive, and impatient as some of its negative downsides, while on the more positive end they will experience heightened levels of productivity and self-esteem. Mania is similar, but on a MUCH larger scale, causing all listed downsides and positives to be dialed up to a ten. For example, a hypomanic individual might think they can handle taking ten more credits in college when they’re already taking twelve credits, while a manic individual might think they could adopt five kids while still taking college classes and adding ten extra credits. Being hypomanic makes an individual feel hyper-competent, while mania makes them think they have superpowers. The depressive episodes for a bipolar individual are pretty much the same as depression might be for a normally depressed individual, having the effect of decreasing someone’s productivity levels, energy, and their motivation. These episodes are the opposite of mania, resulting in heightened levels of sensitivity and sluggishness, as well as a higher-level requirement and desire for sleep and solitude and generally low self-esteem. Using the prior example with college credits, a bipolar individual going through a depressive episode might suddenly decide that 12 credits is actually too much, and they should drop at least two of their classes, or they may even go to the extreme of thinking that they should just drop out altogether. So yeah, typical depressed behavior. The key difference here is that these depressive episodes are usually somewhat out of nowhere, and don’t tend to last as long as a typical depression would.

            Alright, that was a long explanation, but now we can get into the meat and potatoes of this thing, that being a deep dive into why I think Adrien has bipolar. And why it was probably written into his character completely by accident.

            So, first things first, let’s look at instances of Adrien being depressed, since that’s what started off this whole thing in the first place. There are some more obvious ones like in Glaciator 2 or Kuro Neko, (we’ll touch more on Glaciator 2 later,) where Adrien demonstrates clear depressive symptoms, wallowing in his room, refusing offers from others for help and generally shutting down, but there are other instances such as in Siren, Senti-Bubbler or Hack-San where he demonstrates Irritability and behaves higher levels of sensitivity than he normally does. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a very sensitive individual in general, but it felt a little more pronounced in these episodes. I’d almost go as far as to say that Adrien seems depressive at the beginning of Dark Cupid as well, but that was such a short scene that I don’t feel like it can really be used to support my argument. Anyways, he’s clearly had a few depressive episodes, but they aren’t all that frequent. Some might say he’s just good at masking, but honestly, I don’t think he is. Every time he’s been sad, either as Adrien or as Chat Noir, it’s been pretty apparent. He seems genuinely fine in most scenes, sometimes being almost downright giddy.

            Which leads me to the evidence of him being manic. The most prominent instances of this are pretty early on, manifesting in stone-heart, Copycat and Kung food. In all three of these episodes, Adrien appears to have more energy than usual, taking impulsive risks and bearing a very inflated opinion of himself compared to usual. Another instance where his behavior screams manic is in Gamer 2.0, when Chat is kind of just screwing around during the whole fight, refusing to listen to ladybug and acting a bit stupider than normal, especially since this is in season 3, and Chat Noir largely mellows out in this season compared to season 1. There’s of course also the episode Glaciator 2, and this is the episode I think is probably worth further discussion. So, let’s do that now. Yay! In the episode, Adrien starts off as manic, interacting with Ladybug in a way that shows a great lack of awareness on his part, generally seeming to say whatever pops into his head without much consideration and irrationally thinking that he has a chance with her in the moment despite being rejected multiple times. Once Ladybug tells him off, it doesn’t take long for all the energy to go away, and he transitions into full depressive mode. He stays pretty depressive for most of the episode, transitioning into irritability and then trying to act normal when Marinette calls him over but only coming off as something close to an impression of what he’s usually like as Chat Noir. At the end though, he goes back into manic mode, thinking again that he has a chance with Ladybug if he just acts like his true self, which, like… what does that even mean? I’m sorry, I just can’t with this boy sometimes.

Also… I guess I should bring up Chat Blanc too. This is one of the most distinct moments in the series were Adrien exhibits mania. Normally I would have thought he’d be mostly despondent as Chat Blanc—that or scared. Instead, he’s full of energy, moving in circles around Ladybug and talking her ear off, saying that everything will be fixed if Marinette just gives him her miraculous, acting out impulsively, irrationally, and almost most significantly, completely out of control. I realize that he was akumatized at the time, but it should be noted that one of the most universal things you’ll hear from individuals who experience mania is that while it offers a heightened sense of Euphoria and capability, it is during manic episodes that they are the most unstable. When mania hits, it’s hard to stay in control, and a part of the brain is aware of that fact. So much energy is buzzing through someone, and if they’re in a state of emotional fragility when the episode hits, it isn’t unusual for them to start self-destructing. The energy needs somewhere to go, so it often comes out in destructive ways.

See, that’s the thing. I really don’t think that Adrien’s character was supposed to be Bipolar. His entire character is about that concept of destructive energy, being that he, you know, has the power to destroy things. There’s an inherent bipolarity to the way that Adrien acts when he’s in costume as opposed to when he’s not. He starts out suppressing his emotions as Adrien, then over stresses them when he’s Chat Noir. When he’s Adrien, he’s the perfect person who thinks he’s not all that cool, and when he’s Chat Noir, he’s a flawed teenaged boy who thinks he’s a lot cooler than he really is. His entire character is like one gigantic Allegory for living with Bipolar. Regardless though, I do think that Adrien is bipolar, whether he was meant to be or not, and as someone with bipolar myself, I can’t help but relate to him.

So yeah. Thanks for reading. I know this was super long and stuff, so if you made it all the way to the end then you’re a real champion. Anyways, let me know what your thoughts are on this. Does Adrien seem bipolar to any of you, or is it just me grasping at straws because I finally found some vague representation of my disorder that isn’t entirely inaccurate? (Honestly, it’s sad how bad the media depiction of bipolar is in general.) If nothing else, I hope you at least come away from this with a decent understanding of bipolar disorder.

[littlebittyhollowbugs]

About my fic !!

Chapter seven is turning out to be a bit longer than I had originally planned,

But it will definitely be finished before the end of the month!

(Also originally it was supposed to be only eight chapters altogether. It will be at least nine, might go ahead and make it an even ten.

Still we're getting close to the finish!)

[lemonduckisnowawake]

What if I theologized hanahaki? What then? Like if hanahaki was a symbol of unrequited love that desperately wants to be requited? Because God so loves us enough to want to be with us but also loves us enough to hold back lest His holiness turn us to ash because the flowers have become so embedded in us. So what if the flowers are a sign of our own rejection of God and the desperate craving we all have deep inside for Him...but also our way of melding with something that needs to go and thus being unable to be saved from it because we made it us in a sense? Like...

...

There’s a new wave of people who claim to be without the Flower Rot, also known as Hanahaki and Hua Bing.

These people claim that, without surgery, they have managed to completely remove the Rot. When asked what had caused this, one woman who wished to remain anonymous told the reporters, “It was…God, I guess. But He was also a man. He just…said that because the Rot’s too rooted in us, even if we wanted God we’d just burn with the flowers. But the only way’s to have His love take it away. So He said He’d take Rot and fade because He was a man, then come back because He’s God, and give us love to remove the Rot because He’s both.”

Her explanation aligns with similar ones from other witnesses with the Rot gone. They claim that the risk of fading with the removal of the flowers was taken by a man. But that His Godliness also signified that He could “grant His love” to permanently dispel the Rot.

As a refresher, it is quite unclear why the Rot suddenly began to manifest inside our lungs millennia ago. The most common legend is a tale of how humanity and God once lived in harmony in a garden. However, one day, man rejected God and told Him they could create a garden of their own. Though He offered a chance to repent from their rejection, having told them previously that such an endeavour would bring death upon them, they refused to acknowledge their wrong and were thus severed from His power and acceptance.

The proud declaration of humanity was not a nonsense claim, as they indeed found they could produce beautiful plant life for a garden.

However, that came with the cost of death, for these flowers grew inside them and were expelled through bloody coughs and sneezes.

Such is the duality of this universal Rot—a sign of divine rejection, some say, or a sign of our own ability to create beauty made more glorious through our own sacrifice, as others say. Of course, there are others who say this Rot is more complicated than simply a sign of our glory or a rejection from the divine, but those claims as much less popular.

In recent times, science has discovered that this Rot is simply a natural and inborn function of our body. “In fact, it’s inaccurate to call such a natural part of human experience a rot,” Doctor Kinuyo Yahagi of Hanahaki Research Association said, showing a bloodied purple iris of hers. “Yes, it is unpleasant but it is a fact of life, just like death and hunger and blood.” She then gave an animated explanation how there was a particular genetic wiring within our lungs linked to the brain’s rejection and affection chemicals. If the two are stirred in such a way, a pathway is made from the brain to the lungs triggering the genetic code and causing flowers to bloom.

“It can be removed by surgery,” a surgeon from the local medical center said. “However, studies have shown it is risky as it can affect your ability to love and process rejection, so it’s up to the patient to take the risk or not.”

Activists have cried that a difficulty in loving is not a sign of deteriorating humanity, and that those who choose the surgery are still acceptable.

“Hanahaki or not, we all still die, right?” a video of one academic debate records a professor speaking to one of the new Rot-less people.

The Rot-less person—a professor as well—nods thoughtfully. “Yes, but now, my death becomes a death without the disease signalling our separation from the divine, which is no true death at all.”

The ethics of removing the Flower Rot surgically still are debated, though much support for it has arisen in the past few decades. Research into these new rot-less people has also steadily increased, all done with the utmost legal and ethical restrictions to the volunteer’s rights.

“Hopefully, we’ll get to the bottom of this and find a better way to remove the disease,” Dr. Yahagi’s co-worker who wished to remain anonymous said. “Natural or not, it is still unpleasant. Why continue with something that is now proven to not be inevitable?”

[fantasticalleigh]

Hey, I love your work, esp your Dramione stuff! I noticed the tags on some of your posts and I was wondering: are you planning on turning Sweet Sacrifice into original fiction? I would be interested in seeing more genre romance in the mainstream

Aw, thank you! I've had the intent of adapting Sweet Sacrifice away from Harry Potter lore and into its own original work for a while now. (I talk about it some on my writing blog here and here.)

I sort of started on this already by working on an AU comic loosely based on Sweet Sacrifice since last year. It covers some of the same ground but the plot has been reduced down to mainly just being about Caius and Isolde (formerly Draco and Hermione) because if I cover anything else from the actual fic plot this comic would be like a hundred pages long. I'm working on chapter 2 of the comic right now and it's at 13 pages currently and about to get very NSFW, but I don't know if I plan to make a chapter 3 to the comic because it's really intensive work, but we'll see. This is mostly for fun but it's also helped me consider how the story might go now that I've stripped the HP elements from it and am trying my hand at world building and developing these characters further into something of my own and not relying on someone else's lore.

(I'll post more of chapter 1 of the comic but I don't think I'll post it here. So far what I've shared of it has been mainly on WordPress and DeviantArt but the full pdf is up on my Patreon.)

As for writing, I would really love to give Sweet Sacrifice a do over and make it a proper horror novel starting at a point before D + H/Caius and Isolde meet. I really want to flesh out the doomed village better and really delve into life before/during the werewolf's haunting before we get into the whole mated life thing.

I like the idea of doing it on my own and just compiling it into an ebook and "publishing" it on my own site. If I did it any other way I'd probably have to change specific/significant aspects of it to keep it from getting flagged or rejected or something, considering the themes running throughout the fic. I don't want to buckle on it remaining horror/dark romance (and the romance is questionable, at that). I don't see my type of work ever hitting mainstream (and I don't think I'd want it to either, to be honest). I don't like the idea of having to really water down the things I write to appeal to a larger audience when I already have you and many others as an audience (who already know what you're in for)!

I'm sort of taking a break from writing it right now because I've been feeling burnt out at how long the chapters have gotten and I still need to figure out the rest of the plot but the intent is absolutely there so I'll get to it soon, I hope.

TLDR: Yes, absolutely this is something I want/plan to do! I've got this story shredded between my teeth and I'll rearrange these letters to tell it in as many ways as I can, and make it my own.

(This was a really long answer to your question I'm sorry T-T ) but thanks for asking!

bonus: i don't think i've posted these here yet but bottom left is a WIP shot of the SS ch. 2 cover and image on the right is a pre-background/text flats layout of one of the final pages from chapter 1. Putting this bit under a read more bc of the sensitive material.

[britneyshakespeare]

i finished the merry wives of windsor today btw. 4 shakespeare plays left to go

[daily-rayless]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

Thank you, but aaaaaaa, this is difficult. I only started posting on AO3 last year, but I've been posting fic online since 2006, and while there's a lot of old stuff I can't 100% stand by, there are also older fics and elements of older fics I'm still proud of today.

I think for a lot of ficwriters, our fics are tied very closely to different points in our lives and our sense of accomplishment -- so things like that also make it difficult to pick favorites when looking at these titles stirs up so many memories.

But here, I'll give it a shot:

5: Kindred (Harry Potter, 2007, no longer online): These days, my feelings about HP are less positive, but Kindred was my take on the life and upbringing of Fleur Delacour. It allowed me to research an expansive fantasy world as well as make new friends online as they patiently fielded my questions about life in the UK. I got to play around with original world building when it came to Beauxbatons and Veela (at a time when the HP world was still more open) as well as imagine the latter sections of the series from the perspective of the Order of the Phoenix. I was also writing this right during all the build up to Book Seven. I thought I was pretty safe in world building for Fleur, figuring she'd never be all that central, only to read Deathly Hallows and find not only that she's fairly involved, but a good chunk of my headcanon had to be thrown out and rewritten. Kindred was also the first time I'd contributed a longfic to a major fandom that was simmering with interest and energy, and I got so much encouraging feedback. It was a lot of work, I felt so proud of myself, and I was so pleased people enjoyed it. I'm still touched when people message me and say they remember it all these years later.

Weasley gives me an automatic smile. “Just a moment, excuse me.” He jerks his chin to Hassan, and they pass out of the room, down the hall. Hassan glances at me, raises his eyebrows, and grins.

Damn.

I distract myself from my hunger by studying the office. This is one of the smaller ones I’ve seen, cluttered with unopened boxes and a half-filled bookcase. The desk is neat, stacked with papers. A black leather-bound book on the desk catches my eye, its cover stamped with broad gold swirls and dots. It also, I realize, opens right-to-left. Hebrew?

I glance at the still-open door. No sounds.

I slide my fingers under the front cover, flipping it open. Then I blink and lean forward. Every left page is full of that sweeping, dotted script. Every right page has pictures, very stylized. Hieroglyphs, I think. A lot of the figures have animal heads on human bodies, and I recognize the ancient Egyptian numerals from Arithmancy class. I shut the book. I really shouldn’t pry.

My stomach yowls. Well, glancing at stuff on the desk isn’t prying.

I pass over the papers. There’s a framed photo of nine people standing in front of a pyramid, all of them vibrantly redheaded. I pick out Bill Weasley in the group, sans ponytail and earring. He looks better with them.

I check his wall clock. 12:31. Argh.

There’s a small glass case by the photo, containing a chip of some rock (lapis?) inlaid with gold. Arranged around it are what seem to be ancient corn kernels...no...Oh my goodness, they’re human teeth.

Rattle.

I jump, wheeling guiltily towards the door.

Thud.

Rattle.

I look back down at the desk. The sounds are coming from the top left drawer.

Slowly, steadily, I back away from the desk.

Thud. It sounds large, as though something almost filling the drawer is shifting around.

Suddenly, the fact that I’m in a Curse-Breaker’s office carries much more weight. If Kensington could get a curse in the mail, couldn’t Weasley keep a special occasion curse in his desk drawer?

No matter. It doesn’t concern me.

“Mphlum?” comes from the drawer.

That was a human voice.

“Gphlb? Gvpblaffx!”

His muffled voice sounds like he’s struggling. I realize that I’ve stepped back towards the drawer.

Really...Weasley’s a Curse-Breaker...why would he keep a curse lying around? It’s his job to get rid of them.

“Plibg.”

I run my thumb along the smooth brass drawer-pull. Probably it’s some annoying portrait he’s imprisoned there for peace and quiet. I know all about that.

“Thfssss?”

I jerk the drawer open. A human head stares back at me.

4: The Stars Are Fire (Tales of the Abyss, 2021): This is my longfic about Asch and Natalia, exploring their relationship before and through the game, then examining Natalia's life after the war. I think what I love so much about this one was how emotionally free it felt to write it. Generally I write in a very linear style. Stars was written all over the place -- one scene here, one scene there, with very little regard as to stringing everything carefully together. The hope is that if you've played the game, you can follow where you are in the timeline, and the scenes are connected more by theme and feelings than plot. Doing it this way took a lot of pressure off of me. I didn't have to write "boring" scenes, I didn't have to carefully plot. A lot of the time it was just, "Oh, what about exploring this canonical scene?" Or, "Wouldn't be interesting to show this about their childhood?" And I could just go with it. Stars is also special to me because my earlier attempts to write long Abyss fics hadn't quite worked, which was a little discouraging because Abyss is one of my very favorite games.

Natalia flew into him, and, as if it were a dance they'd already learned, he closed his arms around her shoulders, the both of them burying their faces in each other. He could feel her fingers gripping his back, her eyelashes against his cheek, her heart pounding against his own. For just a moment, his brain was released from all thoughts, all impressions but breathless relief.

He was here. She was safe.

There were voices, the others exclaiming over Luke. In a moment, Natalia would push away from him, go to Luke too. But she'd come to him first. She'd run to him.

His brain was catching up to all of this, reminding him there was no time for any of it. Nor a point to any of it.

Natalia was pulling away, but she didn't leave his embrace, taking him by the shoulders, looking at him, saying something – asking if he was all right? Asch was about to say something stern – he didn't know what – but she had one of his hairs smeared across her wet cheek and first he needed to wipe that away, otherwise she looked ridiculous – and he touched her cheek, and the next thing he knew, he'd pressed his forehead to hers and shut his eyes and he could feel her soft breath and her hands tightening on him and he was doing his best not to say all of the things he needed to say – he –

“Whoa, what's this?”

Luke's – the replica's baffled voice was what Asch needed to break out of this storm. Not roughly, but firmly, he stepped back from Natalia – she kept hold of his arm, and he didn't stop her. And Asch felt almost furious satisfaction as he saw the replica staring confusedly at the Jewel of Lorelei in his palm.

After Asch explained, as everyone exclaimed over the Jewel – and that somehow they'd both survived the hyperresonance – Asch again felt weight settle over him. He was alive. It wasn't over.

He still had to go on.

3: The Muse of Last Songs (Transistor, 2019): The first in my Muse Trilogy. It was hard to pick between this one and the final installment, because the final one brings things all together to a (hopefully) satisfying close. But I really like Last Songs because it was my chance to world-build a past for Red and dig into her history with the Boxer. The game drops so many little hints about who they are and how they relate to each other, and these hints felt like fun toys to play with. I was a little hesitant to start posting the trilogy because I'm not sure the universe was asking for a very long Transistor trilogy with a lot of of OCs, so that makes me feel so flattered and grateful that people are interested.

Red had no special plans for that day, aside from the lunch with Belrose. She's not expecting any interviews, any photographers. She's wearing trousers and a blouse, a large triangular ring on her right hand. She'd written some notes for her song on her inner arm during lunch, and the marks are still there. Her hair could use a bit of comb, and she's only bothered with lip gloss. She looks more or less how she usually does on a day left alone to herself.

Whether that's a plus or a minus is really just a matter of perspective.

Colette beckons her over, sort of like she's trying to coax some animal that's never been properly domesticated. “We're interviewing bodyguards. Give me thirty of your priceless minutes.”

Red focuses, looking past Colette to the three men. Though of different heights and ethnicities, there's a certain look that they all share – young men, dark hair, dark or tan skin, squarely built and solid looking. She takes a moment to study each. She's never shy about looking people in the eye, and she's glad to see that each of them has the nerve to maintain eye contact.

One of them.

One of them.

One of them, she looks at a few moments longer than the others. Not out of recognition or distrust. He just keeps her attention a bit longer.

2: Death and Ker (Persona 3, 2010): My what-if story exploring if the female protagonist came on another adventure with SEES. While it's no longer my best writing, and I'm sure there's lots in it I would now do differently, this fic still has a very special place in my heart. My earlier Persona longfic, Elysion, is very sad in places, and while Death and Ker also has its bittersweet moments, it was my opportunity to write SEES as strong and hopeful after the harrowing events of Persona 3. I also love the FeMC, Minako, her energy and strength, and I loved writing from her perspective, particularly exploring her relationship with her Persona Thanatos. Add some references to Greek mythology, lots of Shinjiro, and my opportunity to finally get Akihiko and Mitsuru together (one of my favorite ships, but one I find very hard to write), and I still look back on this one happily.

I've come abreast of a bar, with some guys out front smoking, nearly silhouetted against the lit windows. Another guy, broader across the shoulders than the others, has kicked a trashcan onto its side, letting the garbage spew out. He's sitting on it, hair down to his waist and bearded, a shapeless cap over one eye and a long, ragged greatcoat. There's a smell rather worse than cigarette smoke, and I pick up the pace again, wishing I was upwind.

"Hold on," that same gruff voice says, and I realize that Lovely here is my defender. "You took a long look. You can't say you're too proud to say 'good evening'."

His Japanese is perfect, but there's some accent I can't pick out – English-speaking, I think, but I don't recognize it as British or American or anything like that. I've turned towards him before I can tell myself to keep walking. He leans back to study me, throwing his face into better light. Gaunt features, a long pipe between his teeth, some of which are missing. I can't guess his age, except that he's older than me. His hair is some color between blond and brown, and his eyes look greenish, and they track me up and down a few times.

I'm not good at staying away from trouble; people always used to say this about me. But this isn't trouble, it's just a word. So – "Evening," I say, and turn to go.

"You have a look of death about you."

I turn back around. The guy's leaned forward onto his knees again, and the others are talking amongst themselves, someone laughing. Is this a weird set-up, or...? I turn to go.

"You keep out of the light, but there it is just the same."

What?

...I've got a naginata and a Persona with a huge metal mask thing. I can handle whatever's going on here. I turn back and stare at him, waiting for him to explain. He gestures sideways, and unresistingly I step into the glare of the windows.

He stares at me a moment, teeth cracking around his pipe, and nods slowly like he already knew what he'd be seeing. "You're pale enough, and your hair's the color of dead things, dead leaves. Eyes like dirt and blood." He leans back and turns away, drawing on his pipe. "Why pussyfoot around it? Why not carry your damn scythe in the open?"

I blink, but I can't quite deadpan this, and I find myself shifting my weight once from foot to foot. "Are you friends with Mama at Club Escapade or something?"

"Shove off," the guy says, gesturing me away. "Take your dirt with you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Pretty girl." He swings to his feet, the trashcan rolling away with a clatter. "Death shouldn't pretend to be cute. It's raw and bleeding and it loves the living more than food or air." He chuckles. "I don't want to be friends." And he slouches into the light of the bar's front door.

I pitch forward a step, about to follow, then pull to a stop, hardly hearing the question one of the other guys throws at me. What was he talking about? Could he tell I was dead? I could ask Death himself, but Thanatos is quiet, uninterested in this exchange.

1: The Beast in the Dark (Fate/Extra, 2017, not online). So this feels kind of selfish, seeing as no one can read it and I don't know whether I'll even post it, but I really love this fic. In the mid-2010s, I was sad and frustrated and artistically unhappy (unhappy about art -- not unhappy in an artistic way), particularly with my original fiction, which didn't feel very good, and most of the time wasn't even happening. In this mindset, I wrote a trilogy of fics set in the Fate/Extra universe, focusing on female Hakuno. And what I love about that experience, along with it helping me through that patch, is that I just let myself go. I threw basically anything I wanted at the story. I researched all sorts of weird things about history and different cultures so I could incorporate them. I really like words and their derivations, so I just told myself I could include unnecessary explanations of word etymologies. I threw in cringey tropes I enjoy but might be embarrassed to admit to other people. I had no expectation of ever posting it, so I truly was able to please myself. Beast is the final installment of the trilogy, the longest, and all the angst and shippy stuff and nonsense comes together in a big loud crash for it, and I just really loved writing that. Almost immediately after finishing Beast, I suddenly felt ready to write The Price and Prey of Magic -- the original novel I'd been thinking about for years, but been unable to start. I don't know if Beast unlocked something in me, but I like to think it did me good.

Was it even possible to really love someone with your whole soul? Maybe a parent could love a child that way. Maybe if the two of you had grown up together, and they'd always been part of your life. But a person who had a whole life separate from you, whom you'd met only recently?

Could you really graft your soul to the soul of a comparative stranger?

There was a tree by the well, and its leaves rustled in the slight breeze, sending a sympathetic shiver down Hakuno's back.

A man's shadow fell across her

She looked up.

It was a tall man in army fatigues and a burnoose. She couldn't really see his face because of the sun behind him.

Crow, she thought.

“You're the American?” he asked.

Hakuno sat up, unprepared for how relieved she was to hear English again. His accent was unfamiliar, but the words were perfectly clear. “Yes,” she said, squinting up. “My name's Hazel Kuznetov.”

Maybe he noticed the squint, because he moved out of the glare, though not any closer. His skin was tanned, but he wasn't actually Middle Eastern – possibly Japanese. Despite his white hair, he looked to be in his twenties. She thought she saw a red muffler wrapped around his head and throat under the burnoose. There was a long gun on his back.

He held his hand out. “I'm Shirou Emiya.”

Thank you for tagging me, @deemoyza. Going through my archive brought a lot of feelings of happiness and gratitude bubbling to the surface.