#and tis an official tag now folks

[khaleesiofalicante]

OK… After seeing that one post with all the hints, as a fucking blind woman, I feel very disappointed in myself, but also very proud of you that I did not notice that Lance was blind in IALS. Like all the clues are there, I’ve literally lived some of this, and yet I am so clueless.

Also, you referenced the school I went to as a kid and I think that’s fucking brilliant.

But like in all seriousness, I am really happy that I wasn’t able to notice it because, I was talking about this to my date, like that’s one of the first things people notice about you when you’re walking in the street, or if you even bring it up to people when you’re talking to them. It’s number one reason I’ve gotten ghosted LMFAO. and so, to have someone just kind of write it in, have all these hints to the fact that it exists, and yet the main things that me and most others noticed about Lance is that he’s a little shit, but he loves his family. He’s really good on a piano. He has a heart of gold, but he’s also really messed up from everything that’s happened between his parents. And he won’t take anyone’s bullshit, and he loves his brother, and he loves his dad, both of them even if he is really mad at one of them. That he loves to read, and that he’s kind of quiet. Those are things that make up his character, and his character isn’t defined by his disability even though to most people who probably see him in the street, or in school, that’s the first thing they’ll probably notice. We got to see Lance, and if you read between the lines, maybe you’ll see that Lance is blind. But that’s not all he is, that’s not what’s important about him just because it’s a part of his identity. and most of the time, when people write about or talk about people with disabilities, that’s some thing they don’t realize. It’s not something that’s always written very well in books or TV shows. So thank you for the amazing representation. But also, how the fuck did I not notice this?

I guess I just couldn’t see it.

ILY and I hope you have a wonderful day :-)

I’ll be back later to then give you all my thoughts on the rest of the chapter and LBAF. Because I have a lot of thoughts.

This means so so so much to me. Thank you, Lily. There is a line in lbaf where Max says "It's a part of who you are not all of who you are" and that line was very much inspired by the memory of me in school (we were in psych class and we were learning about disabilities) and my teacher said you shouldn't say "disabled person" or "disabled people" because it reduces that person to their disability, as if it's the only part of their identity and therefore they need to be identified by that when they are acknowledged. Instead we say "person with a disability" or "people with disabilities" because it implies it's a part of their many identities.

So thank you so much. I'm glad that was reflected well.

We will of course talk about Lance and his ability in part 3 and how it influences his life and relationships. It's one of the things I'm extremely excited to explore in lbaf 5 as well.

Also be ready for blind jokes because this boy shares your dark humor lol.

I love you so much. Happy new year. See you on the other side.

[bunnwich]

Gifts (Leona Kingscholar)🧡

Leona muses on the gift you leave him for Valentine's Day. (Based on the official merch twst 2024 Valentine gift messages)

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Yuu/MC!Reader (Can be framed as platonic or romantic)

Words: 936 words, Leona's POV

Notes: Wanted to challenge myself to do something short and sweet in a few hours and was inspired to improve upon yet another dry official Leona gift message response.

--

Gifts.

They came easy over the years, like plucking an oversweet tart from a dessert tray. He was disliked, feared even, but lucky for him easy on the eyes — and still a prince to occasionally bow and scrape to. So many folks over the years were eager to oblige him and follow the traditions of the Sunset Savanna. Idolize the royals; the divine oligarchy. He was simply “lucky” enough to be born under that umbrella. That’s all.

Those gifts and attention fed him for a while, but if he was being honest, some part of him always remained hungry. 

After all, shiny trinkets were nothing like a dusty old book or the heady cedar smell of a well-used chess set. What was the value of pretty baubles to sit on shelves of his empty room or clothes that cost more than some folks' houses?

Pillars of sand.

Was it so damn pathetic and vapid to want something not given by his family's twisted obligations or plucked from the hands of a quivering servant?  No games. No more ulterior motives. 

Wishful thinking, maybe or a childish habit that he had dumped in the trash, like all those boxes of sweets that long went bitter on his tongue.

He reminded himself that others had suffered much worse than not being doted on in their preferred way. However, this reality failed to take away his distaste for each and every gift. Tch. How many times would he have to snuff out that damn sentimentality that he had been so “lucky” to inherit?

Leona’s eyes fell upon the small bottle vial in his palm and the wooden lion tag attached, tied carefully around the bottle. It had been nestled on the corner of his bed when he returned from Spelldrive practice this morning, all nice and wrapped in shiny paper.

His mouth crinkled and a small sound rumbled from his chest without his permission. Relief of some kind maybe. It had been one of the first gifts he received that was not for his birthday or from his family.

A friendly gesture or…somethin’ more insidious?

To think, someone who came to this world with nothin’ goin’ outta their way to get him somethin’...special.

But, “friends” weren’t something he kept. Instead, he had a collection of starry-eyed froshes, classmates, rivals, those few worthy of his respect. And then there was Ruggie of course but, would he be around if not for the understanding they had come to? Best not to dwell on it now.

Leona chuckled watching the amber liquid swish around the curved glass like liquid gold. How bold of them to choose a scent for him of all things. Beastfolk were sensitive to ‘em and he especially. But, they had been the brash and precocious type ever since they came to this school. Always skipping steps to pull off an advanced move.

Regardless of how big of a crowd he’d ever have cheerin’ at one of his games or how many brilliant trinkets he’d be gifted, nothing beat his chosen audience of one. Who, even after seeing firsthand all the grimy parts of him...still havin’ the audacity to stick around so long.

His eyes fell over to the chessboard at the corner of his desk. Brave little creature indeed, and brimming with Savanaclaw tenacity. A little pawn that made it to the other side of the board, ready to be crowned.

No way they knew the implication of such a small gesture, how important scents were to beastfolk, not that he was one for tradition, of course. Still, He brought the bottle to his nose for the umpteenth time as he leaned forward on his elbows. In an odd way, it reminded him of the gardens back at home when it rained, all those lonely hours pouring over books and chess games. 

Alone but…if he concreted enough, he was able to catch a whiff of the oil where their fingers touched the glass. Yes, in their note they had mentioned that this scent reminded them of him, but to his nose it was missing something. A key complementing note. A missing piece. 

The scent of a little herbivore turned into a formidable beast that he couldn’t get out of his head.

His brow furrowed as he glanced over at the small pile of notes, discarded by his boots. Then he tried again this time with more wit.

"Hey– Allow me to thank you for your generous gift. Heh. I can’t believe you actually picked out a halfway-decent fragrance. I might actually keep this. I thought about sending you something in return if the mood struck me, but this thank you note should do the job just fine, right?"

Leona kept it short and sweet. He knew they two were past formalities, but it was amusing to still play the game a little. He had been waiting for them to approach him in such a bold way, and finally, he had been rewarded for his saintly patience. Still, he wasn’t ready to show his hand yet, well-

He allowed sentimentality to win this time and flipped over the note, scrawling a little something extra for their eyes only. 

“P.S. If you were gonna treat your lion so nice…the least ya could do is make good on such bold intentions and show him some proper attention.”

He chuckled again as he let the paper slip from his fingers, finally satisfied with what he had come up with. Honestly, it didn't matter much what he wrote. Maybe he was becoming sentimental in his “old” age but he knew...that they would always find each other in the middle.

It was their move again.

Besides, it was only fair that he repay them properly. Etiquette and all that.

[mxtxfanatic]

I know you didnt share you fandom journey for sympathy BUT, I am sending you a big, tight, inescapable hug. You can never get away from it even if you tried. I can and i will smother you in affection so that piece of shits so obsessed with things you like and facts you remember (unlike them) can stay far away and unseen. I am so sorry, I only joined the fandom a few months ago and I never realized how toxic this fandom could be. Filtering doesnt help much, hell staying off social media doesnt either because bullshit is everywhere in large doses. You and your friends are so strong for going through this and still coming out as amazing fandom creators and people. I am glad I see you on my tl. Thank you for all you do, including danfic night (again, try and pry it away from my cold dead hands...i have dead nmj's strength ok?) and being the absolute sweetest person even in DMs!

P.S. I've been curious for a while, have I seen your main around?? like i am nosey who's the amazing person behind this blog do i know them do i follow them am i in a server with them do they-

Awww, you are too sweet 🥺🥺🥺 Yeah I don’t usually talk about my history in this fandom unless it’s relevant, but since I’ve been seeing the subtle shift in the atmosphere in terms of how the new readers are willing to hold discussions and challenge the age old fanons that have since been encoded as fandom law, I figured now would be a good time to let folks know that the issue with jc stans is not new, not exclusive to fights about the “canon jc” tag (which was made on their insistence that we vacate the main tags, something they will now not admit), and has more wide-reaching consequences that you will just never know if the first time you entered the mdzs fandom was when 7seas started releasing it.

(I even forgot to bring up how the 7seas translator got called out for peddling fanon on her metas and mistranslating the actual novel to fit said metas, only to block the people who pointed it out. 7seas had to put out a statement acknowledging the myriad of mistranslations and promising to fix the mistakes (fixes still pending), and that translator has yet to put out another translation with any other publisher since.)

I’m glad that I found this corner of the fandom before I officially joined, and I’m glad that other readers, in turn, find my blog and feel like it’s a safe space to discuss the novel, even if we don’t always agree. It makes me feel like making this blog has actually been a good thing, rather than me just yelling into the void like was the original plan lol. As much bullshit as there is, it’s nice to be able to discuss my favorite stories with different people who love the story for the same reasons I do. And luckily for me, my self-worth isn’t tied into being liked by or feeling superior to people I have no respect for.

[hoochieblues]

tagged for a last line written by @aria-i-adagio (ty!) and... there has been very little writing. But, because 'tis the season, and because the second round eds will be continuing for another three million years until I get time to finish them, here's a whole ass excerpt from the Valentine's lottery chapter of The Fountain and the Nightjar (title? title!! ...title...?) which is one of the latest to get _FINAL-final(2)_FINALFINAL appended to the scriv subdoc heading. Yay!

My brain is fried today so I forget who's actively doing these rn, but tagging with love and no pressure @faux-fires, @dreadfutures and @highwayphantoms. If you would like to consider yourself tagged, please do so. :)

For context: I'm admitting it now... TFANT is basically Georgian noir. This chapter takes place in the story's equivalent of a smoky jazz club (lol), i.e. a molly house run by an old dandy and his toyboy abolitionist husband. A Valentine's lottery was basically like secret Santa, but for V-Day gifts and/or 'dates.' Also, if you need the historical primer, molly houses were the gay bars of their time (c.1700-1820-ish) but more 'lowkey local institution' than 'hot 'n' cruisey clubland.' Similarly, 'maiden names' were queer nicknames or alter egos, closer to C20th Polari/camp slang than, say, a femme persona associated exclusively with drag (or allied to gender identity). I pulled a lot from primary sources, so not only is much of the book based on real(ish) people's lives, I've also got a... uh. lot. of research material on C18th queer culture. It is interesting as all hell, so I have to cut myself off before I digress.

Behold, my protagonist, thrust into that most chilling of scenarios: a social event. Gasp.

----------------------

The exchange of gifts began, Julius intoning the names and matching the lottery couples together. Sukey Hackabout, a heavy, round-cheeked man of about five and thirty, was Valentine to Kingston Sally, part-time barman at the Green Dragon Inn, who had a faint Jamaican accent and a sweetly gentle smile. He presented Sukey with a painted paper fan, to much delight, and ‘Cupid’ held up his arms in triumph at the evening’s first official kiss.

“There, now!” Julius cried, taking the hands of his next victims. “Who braves the little god’s barb, eh? Molly Irons, with arms like Vulcan—”

Molly, a thickset, well-muscled blacksmith, unsurprisingly a popular fixture of the house, looked a little embarrassed at the catcalls, but preened all the same.

“—and Miss Guzzle herself, Susie Crimson. Who has to wonder what a gift’s in store here, indeed!”

Susie was a slender, unassuming young man at first glance, fair-haired and freckled, but utterly notorious for a single-minded interest, and talent. Molly offered Susie a small gift wrapped in brown paper. She tore it open, revealing a neatly wrought pair of polished shoe buckles which, judging by the shy pride in Molly’s face, she’d made herself. Somewhere among the bawdy comments and whistles, Susie looked genuinely flattered, and they smiled at each other as Julius set them palm-to-palm.

“There, now, and who first feels love’s sting? The poet says ‘Love is a fiend, a fire, a heaven—’” Julius paused just long enough to glance over at Lippy with a wink. “—and a hell, / Where pleasure, pain, and sad repentance dwell.’ But what do we say? What do we say? Take the first, and damn the rest! Now, who’s next?”

The company’s laughter and applause spilled over into cheers. In the corner, Kit had wrapped his arms around Oliver’s waist and stood behind him, chin on his shoulder and soft words in his ear as they watched the festivities unfold. Ollie’s nerves appeared to be giving way to glassy-eyed wonder. Someone had brought out a fiddle and, as Julius continued with the lottery, the first drawn-out note of a folk song rang out in warning.

“Barnfield,” Lippy confided to Will, topping off both their glasses before apparently remembering it was the watered brandy they were drinking. He sneered at the decanter as he put it down, but took a sip anyway. “One of the great poets. Aside from the classics, of course.”

“Of course,” Will agreed dutifully. “I know how you cleave unto Ovid.”

“Oh, shove your claws back in, Miss Kitten. Naughty puss don’t get no cream.”

Will snorted into his glass. Such a prospect seemed distant enough anyway.

Lippy tilted his head. A question seemed to waver behind his eyes until he shook it off and touched Will’s sleeve. “Well, you’re here, at least. I confess, I’d rather hear you hissing than not hear you at all, my dear.”

Will dredged up a smile, but could find nothing to say. The brandy barely softened the taste of guilt. The fiddle sawed into his brain, and he wondered how soon he could slip away without seeming more of a churl than he already felt. Julius called the names of another set of Valentines—Sal Draper, who was here with his long-time love, Russian Mary, matched to an older man who went by Queen Hook—and Will eyed the door, intent on fixing his escape route before any dancing threatened to begin.

[emystic]

New Rules will be Officially Added Now

Firstly, I STRONGLY encourage to tag my url (emystic) if you interact with me so I can actually track it down. I am not always online and if I miss something I would like to be able to find it without issues. Be warned, if I cannot easily find your stuff then don't be surprised if I take my time or even never go back to something (not on purpose just if I don't find something meant for me it is what it is). I didn't think this was something that needed to be said but yeah.

I am fine if we barely interact but have good vibes, but if I extend myself time and time again we don't even got vibes I rather cut ties. Obviously, we ain't really cool like that and if we're mutuals I am confused as to why. When I cut off folks, it's not hard feelings cause I don't care if it's done to me (I rather be giving good vibes on someone's dash, not their wasting their time ya feel). Usually, I'm never mad about it I only get mad if someone gives me a legit reason and usually I have none. Sorry if it seems heartless, but I'm not here to beef up your follower count and I don't care about mine.

Also, I will emphasize the need to know what muse you're interacting with after information or opportunity to access it is provided. Opens, and vague starters are one thing but if I give a name, information, etc. then it's your responsibility to know the characters. I work a lot of my character's information, I read others' information when I have the opportunity, and when I cannot access it by normal means I directly ask for it myself. I expect the same done to me. It's not that hard to do.

[each-uisge-and-glashtyn]

Fic Author Self-Rec Chain

Got tagged by @hotsuqueen to self-rec my top 5 favorite fics I've written. Let's see...

This one and the next one have got to be tied for my absolute favorites. Yes I reread my own fics and 90% of the time its one of these two. The Frog Prince is my only "long" fic, and it's a P5 shukita retelling of my favorite fairy tale: The Frog Princess. No, not the Disney one, the Russian folk one with Vasilisa the Wise/Beautiful. I poured every bit of my love of the characters, the folk tale, and the arts depicted into it, and I think it shows.

My other favorite, To Paint a Dream, is just as full of emotion to me, but much much darker. D.N. Angel and (presumably) one-sided satodai, it's focused on Satoshi's emotional fallout after a job goes horribly wrong. Pay attention to the tags on this one, please! Spoiler: he does not deal well, and that's the point of the fic. It does have a happy-ish ending though! And is the only fic of mine that I regularly debate commissioning art for (if anyone wants to illustrate the paintings at the end hmu 👀👀👀💰💰💰).

Breaking Locks and Stealing Hearts I think is still somehow one of my favorites, despite it being the very first fic I wrote and imo obvious for it. I'm just so fond of it for breaking the ice for the next 50+ fics! P5 shuake clinic shenanigans that plays with the idea of what if Akechi was closer to shattering and just needed a good spicy push to do so.

Baby Shark Rescue is the newest on the list, and I don't think I was more delighted to be writing a fic ever than I was this one. Every single word is just gleeful sandboxing with some of @hotsuqueen's AUs and bullying my favorite characters. P5/Devil Survivor 2 smashup, set more in P5 than DeSu2, where Yamato's family are yakuza to rule all yakuza, Iwai is a distant cousin, and there are some familial differences in thought about how children should be taught and treated. Featuring child Yamato being a brat! And beloved anyway. The only fanfic of mine I've made art for!

The Devil Within was also delightfully fun to write, inspired by this post by @ belfire. Devil Survivor kazunao in which Naoya might have forgotten to mention Kazuya would need to consume magnetite after becoming King of Bel, and then he helps Kazuya make up the difference. It was very much fun leaning into the base and messy as they went for it, as well as patching up game lore to make it work.

So that's my five! I'm supposed to tag 5 people now, but I hate putting people on the spot for things like this... So, please consider yourself tagged if you wish to be! If you send me a message, I'll even put you in here To Be Official.

[sansxfuckyou]

Seamstresses need models, don't they?

Summary: Your roommate likes to, so you end up modeling for her, at first she finds it hard to model for you given your somewhat rectangular build, but eventually she gets it, its nice.

Warnings: Sewing needles, pins, Terezi isn't entirely blind, bad habits, check tags for further warnings.

Authors Note: Fic five folks, fic five, I am making steady progress, also, this one was fun to write, and is it a little bit of a projection, yes, but that don't matter, once again, I take reblogs as a form of currency over likes.

Three months.

That's how long it's been since the Trolls assimilated into humanity.

They all live on the top floor of an apartment building, Beta and Alpha alike, two Trolls per apartment.

Gamzee and Karkat.

Nepeta and Equius.

Aradia and Feferi.

All quite predictable groupings made to prevent as many fights as possible, the only one that didn't make sense was Terezi and Kanaya who agreed to share only because they were the last ones.

It started extremely rough between the two of you. Where Kanaya couldn't handle the sound of crunching chalk, you couldn't stand the amount of fabric she owned. Eventually in a fight you had, you destroyed her only mannequin left. You both panicked, that was the only flow of money, the clothing she made and sold, you were fucked.

Three days later, she came to you with a few pins in between her teeth and a roll of fabric in her hands. At first you were confused, why would she have those items, then she told you to strip, you nearly jumped out of your skin. It took her a second, but then her face burned Jade and she apologized before explaining she needed you to model for her. To that you said you would just put on tighter clothing so it wouldn't screw up your form as much, an awkward nod was what you got in response.

When you returned she held shears in her hand made for heavy duty jean fabric, you flinched, very, very sharp items. She held them up and beckoned for you to step closer, you suddenly felt, very, very aware of how not made for modeling you were. You were literally shaped like a brick, you ain't an hourglass or any other weird shape, you were a rectangle!

Panic started to pump through your veins as you stepped closer and closer until you were in the middle of the room, you spread your arms out. Then Kanaya started to measure, the tape measure tingling as it pressed against your skin, she handed you a skirt to try on. You left the room and tried it on, it was suffocating, curse beauty standards, you awkwardly walked back out, and Kanaya groaned. She told you to put back on your pants and hold still when you returned, you did exactly that.

Three weeks, and many failed outfits, later, Kanayas finally figured out how the fuck to sew for your build. It took a lot of trial and error, a lot more error than either of you will admit, but its happened. She ended up turning most failed outfits into arm warmers or overcoats and sold them for cheap so you two could still eat.

Now she's finally finishing stitching your first official outfit she's proud of so far.

"Go try it on, and be honest if it fits comfortably," Kanaya said, she had a sewing needle stuck into her hand, she had done it so often it didn't even hurt anymore, she handed you the outfit.

"I don't know, skirts aren't really my thing," You say as you hold up the item, Kanaya gives you a soft glare.

"We have spent two weeks making outfit after outfit to try and find something that works for you and people built like you, I am not quitting now, so please for the love of whatevers above go try on the outfit, Terezi," Kanaya pleaded, you gave a short sigh before leaving and putting on the outfit.

It was comfortable.

The skirt itself was a deep Teal, a slit running up to just above your knee on one side. The waistband had belt loops, you immediately grabbed the only belt you owned and tied it tight enough that it wouldn't hurt but would hold. The shirt she made was also nice, the shoulder covers weren't there so it didn't pinch, but their was still thick fabric strips that rested two inches below your shoulder. It was all black, it had your symbol in your color on the front, the hemming on the bottom was frayed a little bit, and it reached just past the high waist of your skirt.

Yeah, this felt really, really good.

You tucked in the shirt nice and smooth before walking back out, finding a waiting Kanaya who looked stressed. The needle in her hand was being pumped up and down as a nervous habit, she was probably biting her tongue as well. You cleared your throat and she snapped up to look at your, she gave a sigh of relief seeing the outfit didn't appear to tight one bit.

She walked over, dressed in her regular red skirt and shirt, she placed her hands on your exposed shoulders. She stared at you, the red of your shades reflecting her piercing eyes, man, she's so pretty. Your face heats up a little bit as you push away the thought, before you can even speak she starts.

"Does, does it fit comfortably?" Kanaya asked, her voice was a little bit shaky and she let go of your shoulders.

"It fits perfectly, I love it," you said, twirling a little bit, you were grinning, it felt so perfect.

"Thank fuck, now I can start doing these properly, soon enough I'll be able to by another mannequin for this," Kanaya said, giving a short sigh of relief as she takes a seat on the ground, she's not worried about all the bits and pieces of scrap fabric scattered everywhere you look.

"Yeah, that'll be nice when you get another mannequin," you said, holding back disappointment as much as you could, you didn't mind being her mannequin, it was fun.

"But, I don't feedback from a mannequin if it chafes awkwardly in one spot, or if the fabric isn't lined up properly," Kanaya said, throwing a glance at you, your face heated up a bit, ok, so, maybe over the past three weeks of having Kanaya pressing fabric to your skin and delicately threading pins through fabric to hold it in place on your form has had side effects on you feel about her.

"They sure can't, and it would be a shame if you got complaints because your outfits chafed," you said, not even bothering to hide the fact you quite enjoyed being Kanayas sewing model.

"Sounds like someones a bit jealous of an inanimate object," she said, grinning at you, you looked away, definitely not you whose jealous of a mannequin, "it was fun working with you, we can keep working together if desired."

"Absolutely! I mean, I would be honored if a seamstress of your caliber would work with me," you said, trying to regain composure, she giggled a little bit.

"Ok, Terezi, then get ready, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow onward," Kanaya said as she stood up, brushing down her red skirt as she did so.

Fuck, you've managed an amazing chance of fate.

[dimples-of-discontent]

Oh anons flooding my inbox to tell me that I’m a conspiracy theorist for thinking there’s more to this finale than meets the eye and/or that it’s totally the writers’ fault, you have no idea how much I do not care! I’m tagging anything related as “finale theories” and you should feel free to blacklist it using whatever method you so choose. I’m staying away, until the dust settles, from drawing any conclusions about what exactly happened to the script (either to make it what it was pre-covid or post-covid) or what cut scenes might have contained, or who was at fault for how it all turned out.

To the anons who think I’m reading too much into Jensen and Misha’s relative “silence” on the finale, I have some comments. With Misha it’s harder to tell, but I am completely convinced that Jensen is deliberately not engaging with finale-related content because he’s so alienated, angry, and disappointed. I think Misha is finding ways to talk about it that he thinks will support the fandom, rather than the network, and frankly he is far more used to having to deal with the feeling of being screwed by the network but still loving the fans. But Jensen really trusted them and they did him really dirty.

Leaving aside the fact that neither Jensen nor Misha was in the CW “thank you” video--which is LOUD AF of them--let’s look at the social media angle. We already know that Jensen wasn’t happy with the finale as it was written (which likely included Dean dying and, yes, that was probably his biggest beef, but I’ll bet he had some words about Misha’s character too) and talked to several people about it. He was then told to accept it and make his peace and he did that and did the best he could. Now, since November 5th we’ve heard very little from him and definitely not in the ways you would expect to hear from the star of a long-running show like SPN.

He’s been much more forthcoming about how proud he was of the scene he shot with Misha in “Despair.” Jensen and Misha both posted about 15x18 and Jensen happily talked about it on a livestream. It meant so much to him personally (as the last scene they’d film together, or as a momentous moment in the show, or as something else) that he had someone film it on his phone just for him and admitted breaking character. They talked it through beforehand a lot. They talked about it after a lot and texted each other fan reaction videos. They were glad to be able to do something that meant so much to us and that brought the story to this point.

Over on Twitter, Misha seems pretty much his same self, using the proper hashtag (which in the old days of Twitter he used to mock Jensen for not knowing how to do) and RTing nostalgic comments from Kripke, Jim Michaels, etc. His personal tweets just tagged Jensen and Jared. The set pics he shared were from 15x18. Jensen just gave Entertainment Weekly a RT for the finale. He’s pretty much full-time on Instagram, but that’s still pretty little engagement. He liked two tweets, both on 11/5 when 15x18 was airing, by Misha and Bobo Berens, but zero tweets related to the finale. (Jared tweeted during the finale a few times and then sent some comfort to the fans. FWIW he also didn’t RT or tag any network folks. I think he’s probably less happy than he seems, but he’s a company boy doing a new show with them so his hands are tied.)

Over on Instagram, on the day of the finale Misha was busy. He posted a pic of Maise “Spon on-set props assistant” in a trench coat robe. Jensen liked that. He also posted a video recapping and asking people to tune into the finale. Jensen did not like that. THEN he posted a pic of him and Jensen filming 15x18. Jensen liked that. Pic of Misha and the kids about to watch SPN? Jensen likes it. Pic of Misha crying during the finale and saying how much he’s going to miss Sam and Dean that actually tags Jensen? Jensen does not like it. The gist? Jensen “likes” all Misha’s posts from that day except the two related to the content of the finale (rather than watching it with West and Maison...and besides, soft boy Jensen isn’t going to not like a pic of West and Maison!).

And here’s Jensen’s account. On November 3rd, Jensen posts to thank TV Guide. On the 19th he posts to thank Entertainment Weekly. On the day of the finale, he posts a pic of Dean’s boots and a video of him getting dressed as Dean “for the last time - for now.” (I think that was a clumsy attempt not to spoil anything but I will also hold onto the idea that maybe he will do his own version of a sequel. The day after the finale he posts a slightly salty photo of the piece of rebar (aka “the rusty nail”) that killed Dean captioned “Excuse me....uh, ‘set dec’!!! Can we get this removed please?!?!” and uses the hashtag “spnfamilyforever.” That’s the hashtag for us--for the fans--rather than anything official. Those posts were both for us too, showing him loving Dean and loving being Dean and being just as pissed as us about his death. (For the record, Jared posted a pic of him watching the finale, also hashtagging the spnfamily, and Jensen liked it.)

All the people that he’s not thanking reads very loudly. Contrast to all the thanks he (and everyone else) were throwing like roses at the 300th episode party. Jensen is a generous guy. He’s professional, everyone likes him, and he likes to credit everyone for their accomplishments. For him to be this silent and not write a single caption thanking ANYONE aside from TV Guide and Entertainment Weekly (who he needs to keep on his good side for his own production company)? IS SO OUT OF CHARACTER!!! Every con, every interview, he talks about how they couldn’t do what they do without the help of all these other people along the way. To not have it in him to thank those people? He must be hurting so incredibly badly.

He cares about us so he’ll do what he can for the SPN family. But it won’t surprise me if the clusterfuck of an ending alienated him so much that we don’t get things we might otherwise (more panels, for example, or cons) because he is just done working with the people who hurt him. I’m glad he was smiling in that most recent livestream because he sure doesn’t seem happy right now.

[succfest]

Happy Succession Sunday folks!

So here it is, the official announcement post for the SUCC Fest! This should give you about a little less or more than a week's time depending on when you decide to post your work.

Share this post, so other can see it and take part! <3

But before, you scroll onto the prompts and their explanations, here's some important things!

Introduction

Well, who are we? Here's a brief introduction to us:

Clover: Hi! I'm @your-machiavellian-cousin-clover :) I got into Succession around March of this year, and it's never left me ever since. Well, I usually hang out in Tomgreg spaces, so if you've seen the "Everyone ships Tomgreg", "Matt Mac ships Tomgreg", or Richard Siken-ification of Tom Wambsgans, that's me *waves*

If you see colour purple in the doc, that's me speaking individually!

Elise: Hi folks! it's me! elise! who u probably know better as @feuillytheflorist and u might know me even better from my absurd au's (the tomgreg pirates? the tomgreg horror radio? those were me lol!) I'll be speaking in red.

<3

Ground Rules

E: What it says below. Lets keep this a safe and inclusive space for everybody!

C: Well, as Elise put it the other day, "don't be an asshole, and don't be a creep." No incest ships. No Bigotry. I think that covers out bases. Also since this fest is open to all, please tag your trigger warnings (if applicable) and keep it sfw y'all!

Tag us and the blog so we can reblog y'all's work and tag it under #succ fest

<3

And Finally, The Prompts!

1. Tis is the Season for anything!

C: Well, as it says on the label, this one's all about the season. But honestly, it doesn't have to Christmas. This time of the year is very festive to different group of people, so go for it!

E: Tis the season and all that, it's December, and all that goes with that-- gift giving, hot drinks, christmas trees, and, if it's your thing,,, angst!

2. Well, here’s the punchline

E: We do love and respect crack ships and crack aus. If you want to do something off the walls, wild, or downright silly, now's your time!

C: In this house we respect crack ships. Whether it be Glowstick Greg x Mr Tom Darcy, which you have a free reign to write about, or something extremely implausible. Go for it! Make us crackle and laugh at your works!

3. One Word Special: Hot Topic

C: Well, for reasons undisclosed, me and Elise both have a soft spot for Hot Topic, and well, Hot Topic Greg is our beloved. This is very open to be interpreted, so well, it could be a throwaway line, a setting or the main plot point.

E: Hot Topic, the love of my life. Greg and those silly red suspenders. Take this however you like!

4. Here On Broadway!

E: I know there's succession broadway stans out there, I know you listen to your favorite show and think about your favorite terrible roy. I want to think about them too!

C: Well, don't look at me here, I think Elise's ideas should help you out, much more than I can. I'm pretty much a Hamilton girlie and that's it, so yup! No advice here! Go check out Elise's showtunes Tomgreg playlist though. Might help ?

5. From The Poets

C: Now this here, this is my stuff. Show me the verses that make you think of your poor little meow meows, your besties, and your codings. Make web weavings, gifs, fancams with poetry recitations and your fics with poetry titles. Show me your Richard Siken, Ada Limón, Ginsberg, and everyone else, make me cry, scream and yearn.

E: I'm no Shakespeare, but make this as artsy as you like. What are poems, really, if not vessels for us to talk about fictional characters and the love we have for them.

6. Rarepair, Rarefic

E: Rarepairs need love too! We've all been there, done that. If you have a rarepair that has a place in your heart, share it with the world. Perhaps it won't be so rare anymore!

C: Well, I'm looking very intently at Stewy/Willa folks here, cause y'all, I've been binging your fics and they are good! Well, this prompt is simple, if your characters interacted in canon, how would their interaction go? Do you have words, pictures, or even vibes to offer? Well, show them to us!

7. Give Us A Soliloquy!

C: Well, get into the head of your favourite character, show me the world through their ideas, give me their musings and broodings, make me feel like as if I'm Jeremy Strong method acting by the end of all of this. (Okay, it's alright if it's not very intense, but you know, turn up the angst to a 100 if you want to)

E: Character analysis, Shakespearian monologue, and everything in between. I know this fandom has spectacular character analysis, and we wanna hear it! Focus on your fave (or your least favorite, no judgements) and tell us what they really feel.

8. Fast Forward

E: Down the road a bit... what's happening? Who's got kids? Who's divorced? Who's the CEO? Who's finally in jail for their crimes? It's up to you!

C: Well, what happens in a year or two, or a decade or so later? Do they sink or swim? Who lives? Who dies? Who tells their story? (I'm very sorry, but I'm putting in the only theatre references I know for Elise)

9. In-between The Scenes

C: Show us what you think gets left behind on the cutting floor of HBO. The in-betweens, the travel, the moments where the camera is not on our favourite messes, who are they then?

E: Missing scenes galore! What'd Tom and Greg do after their diner date? Where did Roman go after Kendall's birthday? The world-- all three seasons of it-- is your oyster.

10. Free Square On The Bingo

E: Wanna write something that doesn't fit? Got an art piece you want to share? Got a hyper specific playlist you need everyone to hear? Here's the place for it!

C: Well, if you don't like any of the prompts, and still wanna make something to take part, go ahead! This is your dance floor, show us the best moves!

11. Kiss, Kiss, Kiss

C: I am not above quoting the famous video by our queen, Justine Lupe, where she rightfully says, "Kiss, Kiss, Kiss!". Well, just this is here for you to experiment with!

E: What it says on the tin! Your favorite character getting a smooch! Mondale giving a kiss! Parents and children! Husbands and wives! Someone and their celebrity crush!

12. Back To The Past

E: Everybody loves a backstory-- but there's plenty of characters and relationships that have yet to be explored! Go ahead and speculate on some of 'em!

C: ✨Take Me Back To The Night We Met ✨Well, do we see Stewy meeting Kendall, Connor being a Dad to his siblings, Tom before he ever met Shiv? Do you wanna show us? Go ahead!

13. #Trending

C: Social Media AU. Tweets, Scandals, Tabloids, Notes, Reblogs, etc, etc. Need I say more?

E: Who doesn't love a social media au? I for one think there's a whole subreddit dedicated to the Roy family antics.

14. In Another Time, In Another Life

E: As you may have noticed... i love a historical au....maybe you do too?

C: Mhm, can we get some P&P aus? Or some obscure as heck history aus? Love those. I will give you a big hug <3

15. Through The Fortune Orb

C: Well, in contrast to the other prompt, we'd love to see you predict what would happen in S4? Tomgreg hooking up? (I am def projecting), Romangerri marriage, or something else? Free reign, bois.

E: Where's season four going? What goes on in the writer's room? You tell us?

16. What’s The Colour?

E: Everybody's got a favorite one. What's yours?

C: This one's for the visuals. Well, what's your favourite colour, hue, palette? Go crazy, tell me through your work!

17. The First

C: Pretty open-ended. This one's just for the firsts!

E: First kiss, first date, first fight-- first anything!

18. “Family”

E: Family is everything... or is it? Create a new one, or focus on a preexisting one!

C: I .. know .. uh .. Succession is not the best for tender family moments. But they have em there, and maybe you could create your own or just expound upon the ones already in the show?

19. Character Wrapped

C: Well, what's your Spotify mood? And put it towards your fav character / ship (Apparently mine was euphoric and wistful 🙄 I blame Elise for getting me hooked on her playlist and Taylor Swift)

E: Mine was spooky and affectionate! What was yours? And who does it fit?

20. Louder For The Ones In The Back

E: Background characters, my beloved, time for you to shine!

C: Who's always in the background? Show them some love! Write / Create some for the besties who don't get enough screen time <3

21. Time For A Feast!

C: Well, food shares a central position on Succession. Whether it explosive family feasts, sensual songbirds, or a quick bite under the night lights,, sometimes our faves deserves some good / terrible food.

E: They're always eating! Eggs! Pigeon! Wine! Diner food! Whatever you like!

22. I Think, Therefore I Write

E: Time to be pretentious. No judgements. It's my favorite thing. Are we destined to become our parents? What is the affect of forcing yourself to become someone you're not? Take this one how you like, and let's hear how smart I know you all are!

C: Get philosophical, get on Jeremy Strong's level, get pretentious. Problem of Evil? Contemplating Existence? Put your best philosophical foot forward!

23. Shake It Up!

C: Ever wanted to write even though you're an artist? Or vice versa? Well, here's your time to do so! Indulges in an art form you don't usually do so and try it out! Judgement free zone here!

E: Writers can draw! Drawers can write? Never drawn a fan art? Now's the time!

24. Give Us The Classics

E: We've all got a favorite! Only one bed, enemies to lovers, kidfic-- what's your favorite classic trope?

C: Well, what's the fanfic trope you'd die for?? This prompt is for that!

25. Switch, Swap!

C: Well, do you have a bestie in the fandom? Ever wanted to collaborate with someone, here's your chance to do so! Create fan art and maybe your friend can write a ficlet for it? Well, possibilities are limitless.

E: Pair up! Co-write a fic! Draw art for someone's work! Make a playlist together. Analyze someone over DM.

26. Take Your Fandom Somewhere

E: Coffee shop au? College roommates? Florist and tattoo parlor? With a thousand settings, what's your favorite place to be?

C: This is very largely inspired by "Take Your Fandom To Work", but feel free to take us anywhere you dearly cherish or hate.

26. The Witches, The Magic, And The Works

C: This is for all the fantasy nerds out there! Go nuts!

E: A little fantasy and supernatural prompt for those who dig more than just reality! Vampires, witches, warlocks, monsters, fae-- anything you like, you got it!

28. Fright Nights

E: Horror! Terror! Spooky scary skeletons! Give us a fright!

C: Well, need I say? Scare me.

29. And We’ll All Be Royals, It Runs In Our Blood

C: Give us your Hamlet Kendall Roy, your Princess of people, Tom Wambsgans, your monarchy Roys. Give us the head that is heavy with the crown.

E: Heir to the house of Roy? King Logan and Cordelia Kendall? Royal blood's a-flowing!

<3

Thank you so much for participating! We are so thrilled with the response and we can't WAIT to see what you come up with. Remember to tag your works/art/playlist/posts/etc with #SUCC fest so we can reblog it here and share it with others! Have fun, and enjoy a space to show your love!

[greatandquestionablecontent]

Ykatern

(EEK-uh-turn)

Tagging: @thelifestoryofkara​​ who expressed interest and inspired me to do these writeups. @pythagoreanwhump​​ might also be interested? We’ve chatted a bit about Ykatern!

Notable Characters: Gavin, Ari, Garrah (Gavin’s brother), Lin (Gavin’s mom), other members of Gavin’s revolution crew (Liat, Yakovi, Pavril, etc.)

Ykatern has a flag! It’s the only one I’ve made a flag for so far. Behold! 

Landscape: Ykatern is north of Cardea, south of Evaree, and west of J’Kyris. Positioned in the mountains, much of the main populated area is extremely dry (a rainshadow desert!), although we also see alpine forests. Their 4th remaining border has no country: to the west are massive, impenetrable mountains that no one has ever crossed and come back to tell the tale. Bonus fun aesthetic fact, Ykaternic buildings tend to be single or double story, rather than tall. 

Economically, the country is capitalist, and a handful wealthy families make up a large portion of the political power. Their main exports come from mining, and they import much of their grain and rice since their land is not well suited to large scale agriculture. Recently the government has decided to close the borders as much as possible and be autonomous. This just means it’s harder for poor people to afford many foods. No biggie. Just add a few extra hours to your shift at the factory, or have your sons drop out of school to work full time.

Politics: Ykatern is in the midst of a very tense political time.

Over the past several decades, the government has been leaning further and further into fascism and authoritarianism. Although technically a democracy, the freedom to vote is extremely limited, and you really should just go ahead and vote for who’s already in power.

The Kadra (the police, which are a branch of the military) have been cracking down hard on any signs of treason. While this has not always been the case, it is now quite common for suspected rebels to be publicly executed, imprisoned, and even tortured. Their families may be blacklisted or vanish mysteriously. Freedom of the press, while still technically in their laws, is also getting squashed out. Propaganda abound will tell you that all of the country’s current problems are being caused by rebels and foreign influence.

The revolution itself is not a singular group. There are multiple groups, some with overlapping goals, and some individuals are branded as rebels simply for talking too loudly about unions or offending a particular government official. Generally “politically incorrect” topics likely to get you in trouble are: unions and workers’ rights, immigration and emigration, any talk of welfare programs, displeasure with the government, disapproval of the Kadra.

Culture:

Much of this new generation finds themselves distanced from religion, and the current regime is secular, with little respect for various religious groups. However, that doesn’t mean religion isn’t there! The two main religions in Ykatern are the devotion to the Sun God, which has temples in most cities, and the unnamed folk traditions of the highlands people. Most of what we know about folk traditions comes from Gavin’s mom. Depending on the AU, Ari has vague ties to the Temple of the Sun.

The highlands nomadic spiritual beliefs have some overlap with Cardean spiritual beliefs, as these groups historically intermingled, exchanging ideas and folklore. While on the surface many things may seem different, they have in common a belief in dangerous, hungry spirits of the restless dead. Unlike Cardeans, who do their best to avoid these spirits and believe that nothing can be done for them, highlands traditions incorporate caring for and appeasing these spirits, as well as following proper funerary rituals to ensure that the recently dead can depart peacefully.

Vultures have a strong spiritual association, tracing back to the nomadic highlands groups but now just part of the mainstream culture. With urbanization, vultures have adapted alongside humans, and are commonly found around towns and cities, scavenging. They are treated with respect and for the most part left to their own devices. In some more Northern places, it is still traditional to leave recently deceased out for several days for the vultures to feed on, as this will ensure the vultures guide their spirits to a safe afterlife. Some cities have designated vulture roosting structures.

Most places in Ykatern have a very strong sense of neighborhood community. Your neighbor’s kids are just as much family as your cousins are. The idea of not knowing who lives next door is unheard of, whether you’re in a big city apartment or a remote ranch, whether you hate them or think they’re spying on you. Presumably there are plenty of tight knit neighborhoods elsewhere too that we just don’t get to hear about, but one of the things Gavin most longs for about home is that sense of everybody knowing everybody and wandering in and out of each other’s houses and knowing each other’s business. It’s also one of the things he’s most relieved to get away from when he becomes an urban hermit in Cardea.

In recent times, this “everybody is in everybody’s business” has made things very tense, with people reporting their neighbors for treason and thus also coming to fear their neighbors.

Ykatern has a very heteronormative culture, and deviations from that are generally aggressively ignored. That couldn’t possibly happen here! Especially with J’Kyrish advances in gay and transgender rights, paired with compounding xenophobia, a new attitude among Ykaternic conservatives is that not only is being gay or gender nonconforming unnatural, but it’s also a weird foreign trend, and surely couldn’t have been around until now. Kids these days!

However, pre-urbanization, at least one of the highlands nomadic groups is known to have had a recognized third gender which dealt with the domains of the spirit world and death. This isn’t talked about much now, although Gavin’s mom has mentioned the concept.

It is common in low-income families for young adults to marry as soon as they come of age, and it is expected that they will have children soon afterwards. Women are expected to raise children and tend to household chores, cooking, and healing, while men are expected to work outside the home. Ye olde patriarchal values. Many of the highlands nomadic groups were matriarchal, but those are forgotten days.

All that said, there are thriving countercultures if you know where to look. Many rebellious groups which already go against the grain are more likely to have openly gay and bisexual people in their midst. 

And one of the benefits to gender/sexual deviance being ignored and hush-hushed is that for the most part, it’s not likely to incite violence or direct harassment. Although, if people already think you’re weird and the Kadra come asking around, you might find some fingers pointing…

Notable Foods that grow locally: olives, grapes, dates, figs, wine, goat/chicken/lamb products (for instance goat milk and goat cheese), lots of salt and salty foods.

Language: Ykaternic. Most Ykaternic people are bilingual, also speaking at least a little bit of Tel, and for about a generation (Gavin’s generation give or take), both languages were taught in schools. With the recent attempts to MakeYkaternGreatAgain and weed out foreign influence, Tel is no longer being taught or spoken in schools, and is becoming less popular. All official government media is exclusively in Ykaternic.

[bjy-on-ao3]

Fic Friday: Respite

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

Been playing a lot of FFXIV lately, so of course all the handsome men from it are taking up space in my head. I’ve written for a couple before in short form for Kinktober, but this is my first official one-shot for anything FFXIV. Took a good deal of cutscene study to pick up proper word usage/speech patterns, but I also got to listen to Aymeric, so that’s a plus.

Summary The Warrior of Light looks forward to some relaxation of sorts with their favorite denizen of Ishgard upon returning from an adventure.

Tags/Warnings Consensual Sex, Creampie, Established Relationship, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Sex

Respite (F! WoL Reader/Aymeric de Borel)

Upon returning from yet another duty - the list of tasks both mundane and daunting assigned to you seemed insurmountable sometimes  - you were looking forward to the hospitality oft afforded you in Ishgard. Hospitality likely borne from all the aid you had lent them and your standings with many prominent figures of Ishgardian society, but hospitality nonetheless. Of course, there was a particular hospitality you were most greatly anticipating, and it was that which you would tend to first.

You began by asking some of the stationed soldiers if the Lord Aymeric was in. Several of them had no clue, leaving you increasingly frustrated. Eventually though, you came across a man who could confirm that, yes, the Lord Commander had recently returned from some business and instructed you where you might find him.

So off you set, with a renewed spring in your step and a trembling anticipation that was a struggle to contain. It was obvious even to simple passersby how much more your mood had changed compared to when you had initially returned to the city, particularly brighter than after questioning the previous soldiers. Excitement overflowing or not, you tried to contain yourself, managing to not break out into a sprint through the stone cobbled streets and alarm the city folk.

At last, you pushed open the last doors you expected to separate you and your reunion with the Lord Commander. The sight of the man in all his armored elegance greeted you immediately, and you tried to the stifle a grin. For a split second, Aymeric de Borel remained unaware of your presence, engaged in conversation with an Ishgardian official you didn't recognize off the top of your head.

The sound of the doors and your boots on the ground though drew the attention of both elezen swiftly, however, and they glanced towards the interruption. You noticed a nearly imperceptible flicker in Aymeric's stunningly blue eyes as he saw who had arrived. But he was practiced in self-restraint, too, and the shift in his eyes had been all that spoke of his truest emotions. The smile that curled his lips, while pleasant, held the warmth acceptable of the standard pleasantries expected of him.

"Have I come at a bad time? I can return later, if must needs be," you said tentatively.

You knew Aymeric would be loath to turn you away - he hadn't seen you in several weeks thanks to various business that preoccupied either of you. Though you knew he took his responsibilities seriously, and you also didn't want to interrupt anything important.

Aymeric shook his head gently. "We were nearly done. You needn't go," Aymeric informed you, turning back to the other man. "Pray, keep me informed. I look forward to word of progress in the near future," he said with a respectful bow of his head.

With an agreeing nod and a few more words you didn’t bother to try to catch, the other man turned to take his leave. You moved aside courteously so as not to bar his way, and the pair of you exchanged cursory passing pleasantries. Then he was gone, leaving only you and Aymeric in the chamber.

Once Aymeric was certain you were alone, the initial spark of excitement you had spied in his eyes grew many fold, the blue tumultuous as stormy seas in his mirth. You hadn't doubted for a single ilm Aymeric would be happy to see you, but seeing the warmth and sparkle in his eyes was always reassuring. "I've news for you of my latest task," you started, tone level and business-like. A flash of disappointment darted across Aymeric's face at the prospect you had dropped by merely for the sake of business alone, as often the case unfortunately was.

"Though I find myself rather...tired from the trip. Would my Lord allow me a brief respite before my report?" you inquired, tone growing more coy. It was a bald-faced lie that you were tired, laced with an underlying subtle hint. A hint you doubted would go over Aymeric's head.

"Ah, of course. Come, come, allow me to escort you somewhere you might lie down for a time," he responded with a gentle sweep of one hand, moving closer to you. He lay a hand over your shoulder, as if to guide you in the right direction.

In the public eye, Aymeric might not even have laid that same light hand on you, appearances mattering as they did. You had shared many a more-than-pleasant private moment, yet still it seemed imperative that what you shared remained hidden from the rest of the world. And as much as a part of you would have loved to declare your affections for Aymeric to the very streets of Ishgard and all who might listen, you didn't mind keeping things quiet.

You fell in step with Aymeric, or as much as you could with his long strides, the featherlight touch on your shoulder settling just a bit heavier, slender fingers splaying more relaxed over you. As you went, you made a quip here or there, telling snippets of a story from one of your more fun adventures, knowing how well Aymeric enjoyed them. True be told, you did actually have business that required reporting at some point, but it wasn't urgent, so it could wait.

Several minutes whiled away as you spoke, taking in the subtle smile on Aymeric's lips that made your own grow with each moment and getting lost in the man before you, as you were wont to do in his presence. You came to another set of solid wooden doors and paused. Aymeric, gentleman as he was, quickly pushed them open before you, with a slight 'after you' motion. You took the invitation, walking into the room, certain to put a sway in your step, knowing he would watch all the way.

Following, Aymeric sealed the doors behind you, turning locks into place and double-checking they were secure. Too many close calls and interruptions had made the both of you wary of ensuring doors were actually locked. If an emergency occurred, they could very well tell either of you through the door - without catching you in a compromising position.

Satisfied the locks were secured tight, he turned to you, and the sparkling cheer in his vivid blue eyes darkened, pleasant still, but intense and a more raw. You made no move towards Aymeric, acting as if the act of fussing with various straps and buckles of your gear was far more interesting. Or mostly, at least. Aymeric seemed entertained enough watching you make slow progress, though wasn’t content only to watch for long.

"Might I lend a hand?" he asked, making his way toward you again. You huffed exaggeratedly and feigned ignoring the Lord Commander further. "Though perhaps you would rather struggle and do away with what little time we possess," he ribbed in a playful voice.

Arriving by your side, he didn't wait for your permission before he set to work assisting you, holding bits of leather or cloth or metal in place to make removing them easier or making quick work of various buckles and ties. With Aymeric's help it wasn't long before you were standing in the room - which you observed was a warmly decorated room appearing to be one of the more affluent guest rooms - hidden scarcely by your small clothes.

Aymeric didn't follow suit at first, instead reaching out toward you, while you, too, pressed yourself in closer, now free of your restrictive adventuring gear. Large hands spread across your back and over your rear, pulling you flush. The touch of his ornate armor plates here and there was cold, as if they had trapped the frigid air from outside, and you couldn't help but shudder. You quickly brushed off the sensation, in favor of leaning into Aymeric's embrace until your face hovered next to his.

There was a moment that internally went on forever until your lips met, in a way far more eager and passionate than before. It had been some time since you met the Lord Commander for a private moment, and all the pent-up desire came pouring out as soon as his fingers brushed over your skin and small clothes. Aymeric, too, seemed eager, but showed more restraint all the same. Sometimes his restraint was admirable, and you were jealous, though other times you wished, nay, longed for him to throw his restraint to the winds.

As you kissed, beginning mostly closed but fervent and a bit messy, Aymeric's hands stroked in light lines and circles over the skin and cloth they rested on, making you squirm impatiently. You grabbed handfuls of the cloth of his armor and tugged lightly, as if to convey your frustration at how he was still dressed head-to-toe.

A smile twisted your kiss, and he took the lead to deepen it, distracting your grasping hands. He relished your impatience and enthusiasm, even if he more oft than not didn't give into it immediately, even when your time together was fleeting. But it was always worth it in the end.

In an ardent rush of motion, you were suddenly beside the bed, with Aymeric urging you down to the sheets. He followed you down, though didn't immediately join you on the bed. You whined plaintively when he separated from the kiss and took a step back from the bedside, taking his warm touch with him. Your noise of complaint was silenced effectively though as he worked through discarding his own armor.

After a process that took far too long in your eyes and asked too much of your patience - or lack thereof - Aymeric had stripped away the pauldrons and plates and cloth, carefully setting it all aside. Left only in his own small clothes, through which you could easily see his arousal strain, he at last joined you on the sheets. You moved up and back until you lay more securely on the sheets. Meeting you at the head of the bed, Aymeric pressed himself over top of you, his lips crashing back to yours.

In that moment Aymeric's admirable restraint frayed somewhat, as if he had shucked it off along with his armor. His lips pushed against yours more fervidly, his tongue trailing your lips and slipping between them when given the chance. You groaned, more than pleased to meet him in a twisting, passionate dance. Strong hands clasped you by the wrists when you moved to wrap your arms around him and you whined again.

When Aymeric broke the kiss again, it was to tip his head up and laugh gently, a warm, soft sound that made you shiver and rub your thighs together. "My, what troubles you, my love?" he asked, pretending an innocence that was ruined by the low, sultry timbre of his voice.

Half-lidded eyes stared down at you with a burning, affectionate intensity you had seen before. Even before you had come together, you had caught glimpses of it in Aymeric's eyes, mistaking it at first for only the admiration between friends and warriors-at-arms. But you could see it now for what it truly was. Between it and the desire making Aymeric's eyes dark and stormy, your breath nearly caught in your throat. But you shook off the awed stupor, focus returning to Aymeric's question.

Your lips curled into a pout before you spoke. "However can I touch you like this?" you complained, pushing against his unyielding grasp as if to emphasize your words.

Another amused, rich laugh met your question. "Ah, but you well know how your touch affects me," Aymeric rumbled. He dipped down until his lips ghosted the shell of your ear. "Pray, grant me some dignity, won't you, my dearest?"

You shivered again, snaring your lower lip between your teeth and biting down as if it might quiet the heat and pulse growing in your underwear. You freed it quickly when the hot touch of his tongue curled over your ear, followed by a coy nip on the lobe that made you gasp.

"Aa-alright, fine," you groaned out, bowing up unbidden into his body still pressed snugly to yours.

Your fingers flexed greedily, itching to break free and and draw your nails along his shoulders and back, or tug his lips back to yours to entangle you both in another mind-numbing kiss. But you yielded, making no attempt to escape his hold, and his grip shifted. Gathering both of your wrists in one large hand, the other was left to trail down your skin. A light touch dancing down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, before pausing at the top of your small clothes.

Pulling the fabric down to free your chest, he set to massaging each breast in slow, almost lazy motions, lingering to brush a teasing thumb over steadily standing nipples. You groaned his name softly, closing your eyes and basking in the sensation, letting your head fall back against the pillows and arching up into him once more. You whimpered when he pushed back, letting you feel each hot, hard inch of his body, the most intimidate parts of you hid away by scant scraps of thin fabric.

Your eyes had fluttered shut without meaning to, so keen you were on relishing the feeling. When they fluttered back open and you met his gaze, another roiling wave of desire hit you square in the gut. There was something more intent, sharp, primal, smoldering in the desire-deepened irises and wide blown pupils as he watched you lose yourself in the pleasure he provided. You swallowed hard, stifling another pleasured coo, and a mischief of sorts flashed through the swirl of emotions in Aymeric's expression.

His hand on your chest slowed until it was toying with each nipple frustratingly lightly, alternating between the two. You squirmed and whined, craving the more thorough touch from before. Aymeric's new touch was pleasant, but the bare brushes and strokes made you feel  strangely over sensitive. You struggled reflexively against his grip again, not really trying to break free, whining his name in that same plaintive tone from before.

"Aymeric, was it not you who stated how short our time together is?" you tried to reason, knowing it was a wasted effort.

"Mm, it was, and I am enjoying such precious time to the utmost," he assured you. "Do you not share that sentiment, my dearest?" Aymeric added, as if daring you to speak otherwise.

Your face, already hot, flushed furiously further, equal parts flustered and frustrated from the game Aymeric was playing. He didn't enjoy teasing you quite so much, no, not so much as he enjoyed hearing how much you needed him in plain words. So he persuaded you to beg or demand of him what you wanted.

"Aymeric..." your tone was mock warning, serious but breathy, trying to deflect him half-heartedly, and hoping he would give you what he knew you wanted, but he wouldn't be so easily dissuaded.

He bent forward, continuing to teasingly massage your breasts, mouthing at the soft flesh of your throat and shoulders. "Tell me then what more you would ask of me?" he urged you. His teeth scraped against the column of your throat, and you groaned again.

By then, you were a ruin, skin abuzz with heat and desire and his fleeting touch. Your underwear felt damp and sticky, your arousal soaking it through, leaving an obvious wet spot on the cloth. Each little push sent you tumbling further and further, grinding down your resolve until you gave in at last.

"Pray, cease toying with me," you began to beg. "Fill me; I need to feel you inside of me, now. Nothing else will do," you finished, almost surprised at how thick the desire had made your voice. You tried to turn your head to reach Aymeric, to convince him more with what few kisses you could leave across his cheek and jaw despite being held down otherwise.You wriggled and ground your core against his needily, as if to prove your point. "Please, please."

"Who am to I deny you when you ask in a voice so divine?" Aymeric answered in a husky hush.

He released your wrists, though shot you a pinning stare that made you think twice about moving from your prostrate position. You settled for watching him sit up and move down your body, hooking his fingers beneath your underwear and dragging them down. You assisted as much as you could, and he discarded them to the side of the bed. Before removing his own underwear, he paused, dark eyes focusing on your newly revealed cunt, dripping and slick and inviting.

He drew one long finger up and down your slit until the digit was coated in your fluids. He withdrew it, raising it to his lips and somehow making a show of licking it clean seem refined. A deep, pleased hum rolled through him, and Aymeric turned to rid himself of the last article of clothing keeping him from you.

Just as your sopping cunt had drawn Aymeric's gaze, the sight of his erection, thick and hot and hard, crowned by a fat pearl of pre-cum. drew your attention. You licked your lips in anticipation, resisting with all you had to remain still and not sit up and reach for his cock. You wore that eagerness on your face readily, though, and another pleased laugh slipped from Aymeric's lips.

He shifted forward, covering your body with his again, though this time when his hips ground against yours, his erection slipped lewdly through your lips and you moaned; Half in the pleasure of feeling him so very close to the hottest part of you, half in anticipation, nearly shaking with it. But even though Aymeric had agreed to grant to your desires, his pace was leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world, rather than hardly a bell to spare. One hand reached up again to bind your wrists, despite how obedient you had thus far been.

Aymeric's other hand strayed to your face, cupping your jaw between his fingers. He tilted your head until it lay at the perfect angle for him to seal your lips together again and drink deep of the passion between you. Your eyes fluttered closed again as his tongue swept coyly across your lips, persuading you to let him in.You were all too glad to let him though, and as he slid his tongue into your mouth to explore and dance once more, he eased his hips forward, too, until his cock breached your folds and pressed into your awaiting entrance.

You would have moaned his name in gratitude for at last fulfilling your desires, in appreciation for the delicious way his cock sank deeper inside, but with your mouth preoccupied, you settled for a wordless groan smothered by his lips and tongue. Though the sensation of him stretching your walls was what you had craved, a sweetly maddening fullness that you would think about again when your duties took you far from Ishgard, it stung as well. Aymeric was no small man, and his thick cock filling you ached in a way that somehow melded exquisitely with the pleasure.

His tongue swept up yours, beginning to writhe and twist as he rocked his hips steadily against you, eliciting yet more muffled moans. You bucked up into his thrusts, longing for him to fill you up all over again each time his cock retreated, leaving so much of you feeling empty. The heat in your body had reached a fever pitch, breaking out on your skin in a slick sheen of sweat, and Aymeric, despite all his slow, precise actions, fared little better. His skin pressing into yours was just as slippery and hot, adding to the obscene sound of your bodies meeting.

The steady rhythm of Aymeric's thrusts, though increasing in force as time wore on and whatever willpower he had left dissolved, unwound you slowly, but surely. Your fingers and toes curled and flexed, and your chest rose and fell more quickly, breaths shallow. Around his cock your walls squeezed just as eagerly and as desperately. A familiar coil of pressure and heat in your belly was hard to ignore, blocking out all coherent thought, leaving you to worry only about chasing the high that was so close within your reach.

Throughput your coupling, Aymeric had spent much time matching the thrust and twirl of his tongue to his rocking hips, as if in imitation. The kiss had grown sloppy, wet, and hot, and when he tore his lips from yours eventually, his breath came in hot pants along with yours. He placed several more needy, desperate kisses on your jaw and your neck, the ragged sound of his breath informing you he was nearly as close to losing himself as you. Though he seemed determined not to do so before dragging you there first.

"Come now, my dearest, I want to feel you come to completion," he breathed huskily into your ear, finally releasing your jaw as one long arm trailed down between your bodies.

You whimpered and moaned aloud, barely having the sense to bite down on your lip and stifle the bawdy noise, lest someone in the corridors outside hear. "Oh, Aymeric, I-I..." you trailed off, mouth hanging open and forming a wordless 'oh' as all the pressure and heat came to a head when his fingers stroked through your folds and massaged your clit.

All you could do then was repeat his name, over and over, a ragged, breathy pray under your breath, as if you might completely drift away from the mounting bliss if you didn’t speak it. The build up reached its limit, and the coil snapped, and Aymeric's lips descended on yours again to quiet you as you cried out in earnest, unable to stop yourself. The rush that flowed through your body was liquid heat, searing and tingling. Your digits curled so tightly they ached, and your cunt fluttered frantically around Aymeric's cock. The pull of your body and the instinctive roll of your hips against him were Aymeric's siren song, luring him to the point of no return.

His moans, low and feral, rolled through him and died on your tongue in a reflection of your own. He drove himself harder forward, as if he might sink even deeper, fingers still dancing over your clit and dragging out your orgasm. After several desperate thrusts that filled the room with the obscene smack of sweat-slicked flesh colliding, Aymeric met his peak and tumbled over, each new pump into your heat filling you with ropes of cum. He pumped himself into your core through your orgasm and his, his grasp on your wrists tightening enough to make you gasp and wince through your pleasure.

His pace died away smoothly, each thrust weakening after he spent himself within you, until he lay still atop you, a heaving, sweaty mess. He lay his head in the crook of your throat, damp strands of ebony hair clinging to his forehead and tickling your skin. The startlingly cool touch of the earring he wore brushed your overheated skin, and you weren't sure if the sensation was pleasant or not. Even spent, his cock took a time to soften, occasionally twitching inside of you and making you start each time.

He withdrew gingerly, and a stray trickle of cum seeped down your thigh. Rolling over off you and onto his back, Aymeric pulled you along with him, urging you to settle yourself against him. Drained and sated, you rest your head in the same hollow of his throat as he had done to you moments before, placing tired, half-hearted kisses there. Splaying your arms across his chest, you were tempted to close your eyes and slip into a peaceful sleep. Someday there would be time to relax and laze for bells on ends, but wasn't one of those times and your fun had nearly reached its end.

Beside you, Aymeric seemed to be fighting off the same need, though was coming to the same conclusions as you, too. There was much to be done, and it didn’t matter how badly he wanted to remain in bed beside you. But he would ignore those duties for just a little longer. He sighed softly, curling an arm around you and pulling you a little tighter to him.

[haillenarte]

white day 2020;

Here is a full translation of the (thus far) Japanese-exclusive White Day 2020 Developer’s Blog post.

First, the dry translator’s disclaimers: I acknowledge that this post is four months old. Once upon a time, I was the sort of fan translator who would have rushed to get this done within a week of its posting, but in this case, I was busy with the Ishgardian Restoration Skybuilders’ Ranking when it was first posted, and then after that... well, I just busied myself with other things. I was tempted to skip doing this one completely, but then I felt obligated to complete the series given that I’d translated the post from 2018, so... goodbye to my Saturday morning and afternoon, I suppose.

This post is intended as a polished translation on par with official content. As such, I have taken certain liberties with the text: though it was originally in more or less a script format, I embellished it to make it a prose post consistent with other English developer’s blog posts. Most of the moogle’s narration was invented by me in order to preserve humor and narrative flow. This is nothing that the localization team itself does not do. I can assure you that the core details remain essentially intact and untouched.

If you would prefer to read a more literal take on this text, I am sure that more than a few rough translations exist of it already, so please look for someone else’s post if you want something that’s more of a word-for-word take.

Special thanks to the person I trust best to write Urianger’s dialogue for helping me with Urianger’s dialogue, and then to a second good friend for Elizabethan grammar-checking the both of us!

Happy White Day, Kupo!

March 13, 2020

It’s ever so nice to speak with you again, kupo!

Do you remember me from the last report, perchance? ‘Tis I, the ever-industrious deputy postmoogle’s apprentice! The rising star that’s, ahem, still training to become a full-fledged postmoogle... kupopo...

This Valentione’s Day — like every Valentione’s Day — we postmoogles were once again entrusted with delivering confessions of love all throughout the realm. So I’m here to give you an exclusive rundown on how my deliveries unfolded, kupo!

First, I tapped into my considerable experience as an aspiring postmoogle to... erm... take care of the most difficult delivery on my list before all the rest. A-As any professional would, obviously!

...Phew!

Oh, it was such a relief that he was asleep when I dropped by, kupopo... I thought my heart was going to thump straight out of my fluffy chest! My paws might have been severed... my pom plucked...

Honestly, I was of the distinct opinion that I had done more than my fair share of the year’s work after that, kupo, but of course I tirelessly flew away to my next destination without complaint!

The second set of Valentione’s Day packages in my delivery satchel were meant for Lord Hien of Doma!

Lord Hien greeted me himself, kupo, friendly as ever. "Ah, the postmaster — right on time as always!” he said, a little breathlessly. “You have my thanks. Would you just leave your deliveries on that table so that they come to no harm?”

What harm? I was more a bit confused, but then I realized that he was in the middle of some sort of... game?

He was running around, being chased by the leader of the Buduga clan, kupo. I suppose they were in the middle of an extremely spirited game of tag! How fun! I remember when I was a young moogle playing tag with my friends, floating in circles with the wind in my whiskers... Oh, for those halcyon days! 

Daidukul received a fair bit of stuff from his admirers, too, kupo. More than Magnai, that’s for sure...

Then Isse looked at me as I was laying out everyone’s packages. “Oh, the postmoogle’s arrived?” he asked. “Um, by any chance, are you the one who delivered the year-end gifts from last time? I meant to give my thanks to the person who sent me something then...”

Of course, I told him that would be perfectly fine!

After all, even when it’s not Valentione’s Day, it’s the responsibility of a delivery moogle — or delivery person — to ensure that all the tender feelings they’ve been entrusted with reach their intended recipients. That’s why there’s no better job for me than being a postmoogle!

After my business in Doma was concluded, I flew back to Eorzea, kupo.

I’m a real go-getter — and someone really ought to tell the deputy postmoogle of my great work ethic — so I darted straight to the Black Shroud to unload my paws of all the packages I had for the people there. And what luck! As fortune would have it, I met one of my delivery targets on the road: Sanson Smyth!

“Happy Valentione’s Day, Sanson!” I chirped. “I have some very special deliveries for you and your usual companion!”

“Companion?” Sanson repeated. He sounded a little incredulous. “Er, no, that’s not quite right — it would really be more accurate to call him a vexing subordinate... Regardless, if it is Guydelot you seek, he is no doubt at his usual tavern. Would you like me to walk there with you?”

Oh, but of course I did, kupo! Sanson’s such a thoughtful, helpful man, isn’t he? It was so very nice of him to ask.

Taverns are where travelers go to rest, so they seem like such wonderful places to meet other people, kupo...

Once I’d finished with my deliveries in the Shroud, I let the cool northern winds carry me straight to Ishgard, kupo. And what change it’s gone through! The city was just bustling with the reconstruction effort!

I told Edmont (Count Edmont? Lord Edmont? So confusing!) that I’d come to deliver joyful tidings of love to everyone in House Fortemps again, kupo!

And to Ser Aymeric as well, of course!

And... well, I had a whole sack of things to give to Estinien, but just like last time, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Since writing his name on it and leaving it by the window seemed to work last Valentione’s Day, I asked Aymeric if I should do the same this year, but... kupopo... He didn’t quite seem to approve of the idea. 

“We’ve received word from our men afield that Estinien may no longer be operating in Ishgard,” Aymeric explained, “so it may not be enough merely to leave his gifts by the nearest window and expect him to come across them.”

My pom drooped a bit at this pronouncement, kupo. After all, how was I going to deliver Estinien’s presents if even the Ishgardians couldn’t find him? Was it all hopeless, kupo?! All those packages to be returned to their senders... What a waste!

“No, well... Another report indicated some success in luring him with the scent of roasted kraken, seared by dragon’s breath. We might try that, if you’d like.”

I thought that seemed like a reasonable suggestion, but Edmont looked a little concerned. “Ser Aymeric, do you truly think — ?” he began, but then he seemed to change his mind. “...No, forget that I spoke. That being said, the restoration of the Firmament is proceeding apace, so I would exercise caution around undue use of fire...”

Well, I am nothing if not a cautious moogle, so I very carefully cooked up some delicious grilled kraken over an open fire, kupo. We postmoogles truly go above and beyond for our work!

I left his packages with the salted cephalopod as it was roasting, so I’ll bet he was thrilled to find everything set up for him!

I didn’t forget to make deliveries to this place either, kupo.

Whenever I come here, the atmosphere of the room feels so... so holy, kupo. As if the very air is clear... but empty, too. Do you know what I mean?

I cleaned up my posture before I left, kupo, and then it was off to finish the rest of the deliveries!

I had successfully shared everyone’s expressions of love with all sorts of people in Eorzea, and now it was time for... um... the impossible, kupo. You see, I still had a whole stack of especially challenging deliveries to make to the First!

We moogles have a lot of special tricks up our poms, kupo, but even I can’t possibly visit another shard without a bit of help... 

I really hadn’t the foggiest idea how to get there, so I wound up consulting the helpful folks at the Eighteenth Floor to ask them how I could get to the First!

And do you know what? They were so nice, kupo! They said that because Valentione’s Day was such a special day, and because they wanted to accommodate everyone’s heartfelt feelings, they’d let me use a special door that would take me safely to the First. Though it was not without... stipulations...

They handed me an enchanted pocket watch and said that if I failed to return before the hand on the watch made a full turn around the clock, I’d never be able to go back to Eorzea again, kupo.

Terrifying! Utterly terrifying! What other job would possibly ask you to put your existence as you know it on the line, kupo?!

But I am, as I’ve said, a professional beyond compare... so I made up my mind and zipped right through that door!

...I admit, I passed out and lost consciousness as I was traveling between the worlds, kupo. But when I came to, I was in a beautiful purple forest, and I could vaguely hear someone calling for me!

So I bounced back into the air and fluttered off to the Crystal Tower, kupo!

Naturally, the first First resident I delivered packages to was the Crystal Exarch. I had things to give him as the Crystal Exarch, and... other things to give him, too, kupo. Presents from a different time, from when he went by a different name. 

Now, I must admit, I’ve never quite understood his situation, but I did dutifully deliver his Valentione’s Day gifts each and every year! I simply wasn’t able to enter the Crystal Tower, so I would leave them at the entrance, kupo. I told him this, and then I asked him if he’d received them.

...But he didn’t answer me, kupo! He just started crying!

What was a poor moogle to do? I mean, you’ll notice our paws aren’t exactly great for wiping tears away. Had I made a terrible mistake after all? Should I not have done that?

“No,” the Exarch said, shaking his head. “No, you... you have done nothing wrong, little moogle. Forgive me. Let us move on. We must needs formulate a plan to keep you safe as you navigate this shard.“

I was very grateful to have made the acquaintance of such a cooperative colleague, kupo! With his help, I charted a path through Norvrandt that would let me finish my deliveries in time.

Next time, though, I hope I’m given a bit more time to take in the sights. I still think of those beautiful flowers in Il Mheg, and all the sights and sounds in that luxurious seaside city, Eulmore...

The Scions of the Seventh Dawn were there on some sort of business trip, I suppose, and of course they received as many gifts as ever, kupopo. I was very pleased to meet young Ryne for the first time, though!

She was delighted to meet me too, I do believe, and when I explained to her what Valentione’s Day was all about, she smiled and said, “It’s so wonderful that there are such beautiful holidays on the Source!”

“I’m sure Norvrandt will begin celebrating its own holidays before long, now that it isn’t under threat of the Light,” Thancred told her. “If you want, you can start a holiday of your own, with your friends.”

“That’s true,” Ryne giggled.

Urianger was especially pleased to see Ryne smile, kupo! Er, what was it he said again? “Pray enjoy thy gifts, to the delight of those who give thee affection.” Something like that, kupo? And also, um... “Have care lest thou shouldst cross paths with pixies and their kin, for therein lieth a penchant for mischief most troublesome.”

Yes, that was it, kupo!

Seeing everyone smile made my heart feel all warm and fuzzy too, kupo. I realize I’m always warm and fuzzy, but I mean extraordinarily so!

After ensuring that all of my packages arrived in the hands of their recipients on land, I then had to travel all the way to the bottom of the deep blue sea. It still boggles my mind that people on the First live beneath the ocean waves, kupo!

It took me some time to find someone who would respond to me, but I managed it eventually. “Why, hello there!” I said. “Yes, you, the tall fellow over there! Do you know where I might find someone by the name of Emet-Selch? I’ve a long story that I haven’t the time to tell, but to cut it all short, I have a pile of presents that I must see into his hands!”

I couldn’t quite make out the tall fellow’s face behind his mask, but I got the impression that he was smiling at me, kupo. “You are troubled, little one. Yes, I understand... If you would deliver these glad tidings to him, then let me give you a helping hand. Here.”

Poof! 

I couldn’t believe my eyes, kupo! With a snap of his fingers, the tall man made all my packages for Emet-Selch disappear into bits of light!

This wasn’t in any of the procedural manuals the deputy postmoogle made me memorize back-to-front, so I admit I might have panicked a little bit... but the tall fellow calmed me down soon enough.

“Even sweet gifts such as those you bear are only masses of aether,” he explained. “Once reduced to their base components, they will go to where he is — where all life eventually arrives. Be at ease, child. Whatever his faults in character, our lord of the dead and king of the underworld is an exceedingly clever man. No matter how vast the sea of life may be, he will surely be able to pluck his presents from the aetherial flow... supposing he desires to do so, that is.”

Now, I didn’t truly understand the finer points of this explanation, kupo... but the masked man seemed sincere about getting those gifts to Emet-Selch, so I decided to believe that he hadn’t done any harm.

I wanted to thank him for his help, but then he was gone in the blink of an eye! Even though I was in the middle of speaking with him when he vanished!

The citizens of that place are so mysterious, kupopo...

After all that was said and done, kupo, I had one final delivery to make. Just one last addressee to track down, and then I’d be finished, kupo!

And I really put my all into it. I swear upon my postmoogle’s cap and bag! I looked everywhere, every mountain high and valley low, but I simply couldn’t track him down.

The time left on my pocket watch was starting to run out, kupo, so I had to accept defeat. Disappointed, dragging my drooping pom behind me, I made my way back to the door between worlds, which already looked like it was in danger of disappearing, and leapt through the gates...

Mayhap I had cut it so close to the last second that something went wrong, kupo?

I passed out again, and when I came to, I was rolling around on an unfamiliar grassy knoll... while someone was poking at me to wake up, kupo!

What luck! What incredible luck! It was the very person I’d been searching for, for all that time, up until the very last second — Ardbert!

I almost cried and threw myself at him, I was so happy! To think that I would find him like this! “Ardbert, Ardbert!” I said, like he was an old friend. “I finally found you! I had all these presents to give you, kupo!”

He laughed and took it all in stride, though this must have been greatly puzzling to him. “What’s this? Another reward for the quest we just finished?”

“No, it’s not, kupo!” I replied, perhaps a little more crossly than I should have. “Here, this is for you! Take this, and this, and this! It’s all yours, kupo! Each package represents someone’s feelings for you, kupo! Everyone loves you so much!”

“Careful, now — oh, these look delicious!” he exclaimed, affably embarrassed as he sorted through the boxes I was admittedly pelting him with. “And this is all for me? You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, kupo! Eat them all up and have more faith in yourself, Ardbert!”

His eyes crinkled at their corners when he smiled. “Hahah! You’ve got a point. Then I’ll share these with my friends just over there. My thanks for bringing them all this way here, postmoogle. You’ve done a great job.”

...

...

I don’t quite remember what happened after that, kupo...

When I came to, I was lying on the counter of the Seventh Heaven, evidently having dozed off next to that Wandering Minstrel fellow. At first, I thought perhaps meeting Ardbert in that strange world had been nothing but a dream, but when I checked my postmoogle’s bag, I realized that it was much lighter, kupo!

So I really had met him, and I really had completed all my deliveries!

This year’s Valentione’s Day deliveries were arduous and difficult, kupo, but at the end of the day, I really did have a lot of fun. 

I delivered all of your love to everyone else, kupo... and now I’m here to deliver their love back to you!

One more time, for everyone’s sake: Happy White Day, kupo!

[shadowfae]

There's gotta be people who lie in the middle ground between otherkin and copinglinkers, right?

This just reminds me of the "can people choose to be trans" discourse and personally I've never found the value in trying to find a clean dividing line between people who "choose" to be trans and people who "are" trans, like obviously some people feel dysphoria much more than others and it's important to recognize that, but that doesn't mean theres some "how miserable would you be if you were forced to be cis" test that can decide who is a Valid Trans Person or not. It feels to me like it might be the same with the broader otherkin spectrum, but admittedly I don't know much about the community?

That said, the otherkin community has been really cool and like, when I go digging in early internet history I often find beautifully preserved histories and narratives from otherkin blogs about communities and sites that people frequented. And that's something I'm forever grateful for. I'm glad that there are still folks out there who pass on that history and find value in those communities.

Okay so I waited until I’d officially gotten out of bed (yes, everything I’ve done today was on my phone in bed) to answer this properly.

The thing that I’ve never much mentioned in my place of this argument - and I feel that if I’m going to, I should have a few personal essays to publish first in order to make my point clearly - is that at least for me, my kintypes and my linktypes feel so different there is absolutely no way I could mistake them for each other.

That’s why I’m not calling whatever’s going on with the Xweetok stuff a linktype, because there’s no choice there, it’s just me getting hit in the face with Xweetok animality and trying to figure out what it all means.

My kintypes are intrinsic to my personality. If you leave me alone for a bit, or put me somewhere where I feel totally, completely safe, I go so feral it’s not even funny. I growl. I hiss. My ears, tail(s), and wings do all my body language for me. I walk as digitigrade as a human is capable of. I settle into the mentality of an animal, except for when I slide into dignity and divinity, or when you hand me a piece of technology and then I’m as gruff as a pirate and humming to lyrics nobody else can hear.

My linktypes? Something happens. Panic, anger, fear, terror. I am [insert linktype here], here is what it is correct for me to do, here is what I will do, I navigate my way out of it with grace, I handle it as my linktypes would. Things hurt and I settle into their skin, if only for a little while. When their skin is hard to settle it, I simply change it. Being Kiyoteru was a way for me to understand my own sexual awakening when I’d never been safe enough to recognize my own animality, until I fused it with Luteia kinfeels into the world’s worst coping mechanism (don’t do that, kids) and did some things I’m very much not proud of.

Being Yukari was an answer to dysphoria and social ostracization that served me for quite a long time, and that I no longer need, because I am slightly more comfortable in my own skin. It was a matter of personality and aeslinking: she was a moon-girl who liked warm tea on snowy days and pretty poetry and rabbits. I never had her connection to rabbits, they’re just pets to me, but when I needed it I could pretend to be near a bunny the way she probably was bunnyhearted, and I could be a moon-girl until the sun came up for me.

My kintypes are deeper than that. Ranisson and Pale do seem a matter of personality, being as they are the closest to human, except for all the places where their experiences built them from the ground up. As Pale I was a Devil without his powers that didn’t quite know it enough to stop reaching for more power. As Ranisson, I was a girl in a war that was going to end with everyone I cared about dead, and I almost didn’t care, because we’d all be in the hivemind and I’d never be alone again.

Kiyoteru and Yukari were not that way. They were blank canvases that I could change as I needed to, for the purposes of saving me from myself. Even if they’d had actual stories, even if they were more than pretty faces and aesthetics, I would have made them do as I pleased to get me through.

From the inside, linktypes and kintypes seem so fundamentally different to me that I honestly find it hard to see a middle ground there. I’m not everyone, for some there absolutely is a middle. For some, they really can just ignore their own nonhumanity and walk away unscathed. There will always be a gray area, a fringe case or seven, a middle ground where nobody can define where it stops. And I’m not going to be the one to lay down what that middle ground is, because it is antithetical to my entire existence and experience, and it’s something I will never understand for my own.

I insist that everyone be clear about the terms that fit them to the best of their ability because I don’t like being lied to, especially after I’ve placed my trust in people to tell the truth. I don’t trust a salesman, but I’ll try any answer on StackOverflow once. You give me an answer on SO to a complex problem that fucks up my computer, I’m going to be pissed. You lie to me knowingly about your nonhuman/fictional identity in our tags, I’m going to be pissed.

If people say “this is an identity and I don’t know how voluntary it is” I go “yeah okay fair enough.” If they say they’re one or the other, I say the same. If they say they’re one and their experiences match the other, I’ll point that out. If they proceed to insult me and tell me I’m a gatekeeper, I am going to be pissed.

And then if they proceed to throw death threats in my face, I will be furious. I think I have every right to be in that case, and I have no use for those who would side with that sort of person. That’s all anyone’s been asking. Be where you are but be honest about your experiences, and we’ll find a place for you. Even if you say “I’m a linker, but I feel better in this space for otherkin, are we cool with me being here?” the answer will be yes, and then we’ll probably bring you our questions about your experiences. That’s what we do. We ask about others’ experiences and we nitpick how they work because they’re fascinating.

We preserve our history because we have to know where we come from. We have to know we’re not alone. I don’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want to read the history of the community they’re from. Now maybe it’s that I have no ties to my own heritage by blood, and those who do aren’t so interested, but if anything happened to our history I don’t know what I’d do. We need it to say no, if we’re crazy it’s not for this, that this is truly what we are, that we are not the first to have walked this path, and that those who came before us survived to tell the tale.

I am what I am. Everyone else is what they are. So long as people say that, then I have no issues with anyone about it.

[leolupus]

Some more Harry Clawthorne

The Au where Eda unofficially adopts Harry Potter

Last we left off: 11-year-old Harry has been denying letters from joining Hogwarts until one day when Owlbert returns from the human realm, he is followed by a witch and wizard.

They were known as Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore, who are both in search for Harry Potter. Both were not expecting a small owl with a burlap to be taking Harry’s letter through a mystery door; and both were surprised to enter another realm unlike their own.

The two followed Owlbert to the Owl House where the owl entered through a door that then closed on its own. As the two approach the door, Hooty yells for Eda that she has visitors. To say the least, she wasn’t expecting two humans to show up at her house.

Eda: “Yes? What do you want?”

Dumbledore: “We’re looking for Harry Potter, I’m-”

Eda: “Oh, you’re the ones who been sending Harry those letters. Harry! Those folks who want you to join their school is here!”

To say the least, Harry wasn’t that impressed that the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress of the school came to ask him in person to join their school

Harry: “Look, I thought denying your letters will give you a hint, but apparently not; so I’ll tell you in person: I DON’T want to JOIN your school!”

Harry told the two that he already have a teacher, and showed them what he learned from Eda; so there’s no reason for him to go to this school of theirs.

Dumbledore: Even if it’s the school your parents went to?

Harry, surprised: “What? No... What do you know about my parents.”

Dumbledore: “That they were the bravest witch and wizard that I ever known.”

Now this caught Harry attention, his parents were a witch and a wizard? That can’t be right, but then again, the Dursleys didn’t tell him much about his parents. Eda is surprised because it does explain how Harry, a human, is able to do magic.

McGonagall: “You didn’t know?”

Harry: “No, all the Dursleys told me was that they did in a car accident.”

McGonagall: “A car crash? No, they were killed trying to protect you from a dark, powerful wizard.”

McGonagall and Dumbledore goes on about what happened and how he’s famous for killing the dark wizard that killed his parents and who they were

Harry wasn’t sure how to take in this information. He could learn more about his parents by going to Hogwarts, but the Boiling Isles and the Owl House are his home.

Eda knows how much Harry wished to know more about his parents. Of course this is a boarding type of school, and both her, Owlbert, King, and Hooty would miss him for the time being, but he’ll be back during breaks.

With McGonagall, she already vent her frustration to Dumbledore about his decision of leaving Harry with the Dursleys, even more so after Harry disappeared three years ago.

Harry: “Eda... I don’t know what I want to do.”

Eda: “Look, not only will you be able to learn your world’s magic, but your parents as well, and I can only teach you so much; so whatever you choose to do, we’ll support you.”

Harry decided to go, but with a few conditions:

That if he doesn’t like going to this school, he’ll return home.

He doesn’t need a wand because he’s able to perform without it. Besides, he created his Palisman, so there’s no reason for him to own a wand.

He doesn’t want to be placed in a house, but a ‘Wild Wizard’ (something he earn from Eda) with no ties along with his own room (This is being debated because no known witch or wizard ever been to Hogwarts without being placed in a house)

And, with Eda’s permission (who feels honored by this), he’ll like to go by Harry Clawthorne instead of Harry Potter.

The reason behind this name change is because he doesn’t want to be seen as a celebrity, but as a fellow student; but mostly because Eda is, not only his mentor, but like a mother figure to him in her own way. Living in the Boiling Isles, especially at the Owl House, made him feel more at home with a family then he did in the human realm,

Plus, he’ll like to actually make a name for himself as Harry Clawthorne instead of being known as “The Boy Who Lived”, a name that Harry Potter made as a baby.

Author’s Note: I like to think of Harry’s palisman being an eagle, but I’ll like to hear your suggestions as well. Also, what house do you see Harry Clawthorne to be in? Still in Gryffindor, in another house, or would you like for him to be a Wild Wizard with no house at the school? Let me know through asks or comment on this post, please.

In case anyones wondering, this au is set before Luz enters the Demon Realm.

Here’s a drawing of Harry’s possible Palisman, haven’t thought of a name, probably Egbert, but again, like to hear your palisman suggestions as well.

@loyelhasrandomideas​, thought I’ll tag you since you commented on the last post; but do let me know if you’ll like for me to continue tagging you or not. The same goes to anyone who’s interested to hear more about this AU as well, just let me know if you’ll like for me to tag you either by ask or comment.

[tgcfartreblogs]

1,000 Tag Round Up!

Wow, finally reached 1k works on this blog! (well, 994, but who’s counting? ...it’s me...I’m counting...) If you follow @mdzsartreblogs you already know that every thousand posts I take a little peek at our stats (and reviewing all the tags I’ve used every 1k posts helps me catch typos and mistakes), and here it is - tgcfartreblogs’s 1,000 post round up!

A little bookkeeping...

The blog has 271 followers! Thanks to everyone who has given it a try, and I hope you’re enjoying the fabulous content reblogged here. There is so so so so much skill in the Tian Guan Ci Fu artist community, it blows my mind every day.

Need anything specific tagged? Triggers warnings, squicks, preferences, anything? Please let me know so I can add it to my tag list! You can always see what tags I’m currently using by going to the pinned post.

If you’re an artist in the fandom feel free to @ me or DM me with your creations so I can add them to the queue.

Thanks for following, and especially thanks for liking and reblogging, cause that’s the kind of love these artist’s deserve!!!

-unforth

Now for my favorite part - some stats related to the tags!

(read more)

Top Ten Characters in Reblogged Art Works: so far, 25 characters have at least one work on this tumblr! (well, Xuan Ji’s first hasn’t posted yet, but it’s in the queue, so she counts). I’m really excited for more characters being introduced in the manhua and donghua, as I think it’ll encourage people to create more for those folks - a lot of late introduced characters don’t have much art yet at all (like, Cuo Cuo is still waiting for his first, and Jian Lan only has one...) so time will tell! Anyway, I suspect there are very few surprises here, lol...

Xie Lian (631 works)

Hua Cheng (583 works)

He Xuan (109 works)

Shi Qingxuan (79 works)

Mu Qing (57 works)

Feng Xin (52 works)

He Xuan’s Undead Fish (27 works)

Qi Rong (27 works ...poor Qi Rong, he ranks tied with some undead fish...lmfao...)

Ling Wen (22 works)

Yin Yu (19 works)

Top Five Ships and Platonic Relationships: so far I’ve found this fandom to be very low on multi shipping - much less than MDZS and SVSSS. It’s also less based on family and found family than MDZS is, so there are far fewer platonic relationships that I’m tagging. There’s definitely a lot of potential for other ships to get added, and I’m excited to learn more about what people create as the fandom grows in popularity and people get more adventurous, ship-wise.

Hualian (472 works)

Beefleaf (44 works)

Fengqing (27 works)

Xianle Trio (12 works)

Qi Rong is a Dad (7 works)

Top Ten Artists: So far, 386 artists have at least one work in this blog, and the number grows all the time. It’s especially intriguing for me to see where the splits in the MXTX fandoms occur, and how many people create for TGCF but not SVSSS and/or MDZS. (mind this list has absolutely positively NOTHING to do with measuring quality, it’s literally just a count of how many works I’ve reblogged by each artist, and that’s caused by what crosses my dash, who’s blogs I’ve gone through, how much each individual has created, and random chance.)

wildersfanart (19 works)

official art (19 works)

meru90 (17 works)

garbage-queen (16 works)

checaria (16 works)

vyph2001 (13 works)

auenthusiast (14 works)

orogenese (13 works)

meltesh28 (13 works)

violantepaleologa (12 works)

Top Ten Other Tags: I also tag creature AUs, character attributes, motifs common in art for the fandom, a few animals and things...here are top among those tags.

eye patch (354 works)

butterflies (274 works)

red pearl earrings (228 works)

ruoye (165 works)

flowers (147 works)

comic (112 works)

red string of fate (98 works)

laughs (97 works)

blood tw (83 works)

chibi (81 works)

[lilliameadow]

The myth of the Government Issue rosary

The story goes something like this: During World War I, soldiers and other military personnel were issued official GI Catholic rosaries made from sturdy steel ball chain for use in the fox holes and ramparts, battlefields and bunkers at government expense, almost as part of the uniform.  Even Protestants, Jews and atheists, too, were seen charging the enemy with these special rosaries flapping around their necks for protection and comfort.  They were called "Combat rosaries."

The truth is, all those rosaries and holy medals weren't issued by the US military at all, they were paid for and shipped to the battlefields by the folks back home, the mothers, fathers, sisters, sweethearts, parish members and communities, who had rosary drives and collected money to buy "soldier kits" and "soldier rosaries" to send to the troops overseas.  Some sent the kits and beads directly to their sons on the front, others sent them to medics and chaplains to distribute to the troops as needed.  Although they were given to soldiers from the hands of military chaplains, they were not paid for with federal tax dollars or commissioned by the federal government or the US military.  They came from ordinary Americans who wanted to support the spiritual needs of the men in the trenches.

Solider kits contained a ball chain rosary, a field missal that had steps to take when a comrade was dying and prayers for safety and courage, etc., and a "dog tag" medal that had the Miraculous Medal/Sacred Heart/St Christopher/St Joseph on the front and "I am a Catholic" on the back.  The medal usually had a enameled red, white and blue military shield in the center of the cross.  The typical medal was steel, but mothers could pay a dollar extra to get sterling silver on a sterling chain.

In fact, though, many soldiers made do with rosaries they fashioned themselves by knotting string or drawstrings and cords from their own uniforms, or with bits of shrapnel or shot tied together in groups of tens.  These were called "trench rosaries," and were often more beloved than any other peyer because every bead reminded the soldier of a friend, a battle, a place encountered during the war.  The cords were worn and dirty, because they had passed through soldier's grubby hands many times, and sometimes one cord had to serve and entire unit, each man saying a Hail Mary on it, then passing it to his neighbor.  Some trench rosaries have as many as 100 knots, 50 for the standard Marian rosary, and 50 more for the Lorento litany, a prayer cycle with 50 names of the Virgin Mary.  These rosaries are very rare now.  Most have been tossed out because heirs didn't know what they were or understand their importance.

The term "service rosary" was invented during World War II to market the ball chain rosaries in newspaper and radio ads.  One radio spot said, "Don't send your son to war with a rosary that could break when he needs it most. Send him a rosary that will withstand everything Hitler can throw at it. The Service Rosary is strong as American steel because it is made from American steel."  

"Combat rosary" was first used in the 1980s to market reproductions of the ball chain rosaries.

Most of what is sold as WWI service rosaries are actually from WWII.  The First World War ball chain rosaries had a simple oval centerpiece and a plain Latin cross. Heart-shaped centers and fancy crosses came much later, during WWII and Korea.  Many "combat rosaries" being marketed now are reproductions and sometimes even fakes, newly made reproductions that are intentionally aged by burying them in the ground for months so they develop a rich patina, and even beaten with hammers and chains to make the dents and marks buyers expect to see on a rosary that went to war.  So be cautious when buying an “antique” combat rosary.