#but this has already improved my mood and my day XD

[isawken]

haha heyyyyy jesties

this year has been rough stuff. and the problem is nothing life shattering has happened so i don’t even get to have a spectacular mental breakdown. it’s just been a lot of grind and disappointment and struggle to keep up or have any energy to do anything other than the bare minimum. to everyone who reached out to me with love or kindness or memes and waited weeks or more for a response i love you. and i’m so sorry for my total absence of personhood. i’ve never gotten a dm even if it’s just a silly post and an “i thought of you” that i didn’t like. and your patience with me is appreciated more than you know.

i have some stuff i want to work on. some hobbies i want to pick up again. some friendships i want to recultivate. some pieces of my life i want to try to rekindle. i used to have so much creative energy and impulse. did you know i used to make zines? i fuckin loved making zines. the tactile experience of cutting up thick paper and punching holes and using thread to bind em and filling it with vague thoughts and little collages and splashes of acrylic paint. that shit ruled. about a month ago i tried making one for the first time in years. i cut up some old paper and dusted off the ol' hole punch. this time instead of my usual embroidery thread i used necklace chain to bind it. i was proud of that idea. when it came time to put stuff in it i choked. i had no creative thought. i forced myself to cover the first page with orange and yellow crayola markers. but that was it. i had nothing other than that. just hasty sloppy color thoughtlessly and restlessly thrown down. a dull background promised to a more interesting foreground that never came.

that shit did not rule.

in 1883 in pecos texas the first recorded rodeo takes place. in 2001 rob smets attends the PBR world finals in jeans and a sports jersey bearing sponsor logos. in 1780 joseph grimaldi makes his stage debut at 2 years old at london’s famed drury lane. in the many, many years before any white person ever laid eyes on it, a man in what you’d now call northern arizona paints his body in black and white stripes and puts corn husks in his hair. in 1557 ivan the terrible acts as pallbearer to a man who walked naked in the streets of moscow, even in the dead of winter. 1568 the gelosi acting company coalesces in italy to perform the hot new style of live improv entertainment. in 2017 the ringling bro’s circus performs its last show, 146 years after the titular brothers first formed it. all of these moments (and more!) live in my head rolling around like marbles and one day i’ll tell you all why.

i’ve been on mood stabilizers for so long it’s hard for me to tell if this has just been a really long depressive swing or if this is just how i am now. if this is just what getting older is like. i don’t really think it is. i am like 90% sure this will not last. but the two questions that follow are always 1. how do i get out of it, and 2. what if it is tho xD?

i recently went down to southeastern ohio to visit my family. went up the mountain at 1 am saturday night to help my gramma grab the 8 year old boy she’s been helping to take care of from his strung out mother. the next day i saw my various other relations, aunts and cousins however many times removed. i hung out with my second cousin. same age as me, with two twin girls, 4 years old. she’s a great mom. and enjoys it, too. got a decent husband with a good job. obviously i don’t know her struggles. not like we talk often. but she seemed overall pleased when she spoke about her life. i told her about my work from home job and my loving partner of 8 years and my plans for the future. she told me i was living the dream. and like. i kind of am. so why do i wake up every morning in various states of hangover (it's the mental illness)

i live in one of the cloudiest cities in these united states. my house is about 500 square feet. it’s dark at 5pm now. i already miss the sun. i want to get sunburned again. i want to be sweaty. i want to put talcum powder in my skort. i want to get through this winter without having to rub snow on my face to stave off more serious impulses. i want to check the 5 items off my to do list.

all of my want is like a song stuck in my head.

i miss that stickbug meme

i should dress up like a clown again

maybe tomorrow i’ll just lay under my weighted blanket for 5 hours

or maybe i’ll actually do something i like to do and feel good and real and human about it. who knows. only time will tell. and in the meantime. thanks if you read this <3

[remnantsofthepast-if]

Monthly Update - August 2023

This month has been horrible with the heat... Both my energy and mood drop massively in summer, I hate it >.< But at least that's the only bad thing that happened lol

--

First of all, chapter 7 was released! Although there were three scenes I decided to delete in the end because it didn't feel right. It was a bummer, honestly. I really loved those. But hopefully I'll be able to use them in later acts :D Now I'm planning how chapter 8 is going to go. I'm a bit stuck at the moment. There are two things I had planned for this chapter and I have zero idea of how to implement them... Oh well, I'll think of something hehe

I'm also taking notes about all the things I'm going to change in previous chapters, especially from the prologue to chapter 3. There are a few scenes I'll add, others I'll change, and a few dialogues to improve that I didn't think about at that time. But that will be done once act 1 is finished, and it almost is! There are only 2 or 3 chapters left to start act 2. It's like those stories from CoG that consist of more than one book, but I call them acts lol. Which reminds me that I found this story just a few days ago that I've become totally obsessed with already xD The Wayhaven Chronicles. I've seen people in the if community mention it a lot throughout the years but I've never felt like reading it until now. I'm not really into vampire stories or supernatural in general, but dude... I think it hasn't even been a week and I already bought all the books hahaha! And I'm amazed at how well the author uses the choices to give the main character a unique personality. It has given me a few good ideas to implement in Remnants too ;)

I also bought Baldur's Gate 3... Not a good decision for working on this project. If I was slow before, imagine now lmfao (Karlach my love <3) But I promise it won't distract me from writing. Not too much, anyway xD

--

Have a fantastic month! See you at the end of the next one ;)

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

NOT THAT GIF NINA!!! GOD how will I ever get anything done around here?

First of all, love, thank you for reading! And for commenting! And I can't tell you how happy I am that you're loving this! ❤️❤️❤️

Ahw, did you hear my heart breaking? Because, my poor baby 😭😭😭 He's trying his best to please you and you think about having his friends in this situation instead of him? And you even stop him and tell im you don't want HIM to do that. He's scared to lose you, babe!

Mike's gift takes a toll on him for sure! And him being the hedonistic little shit that he is, he genuinely has trouble understanding the idea that just because someone feels: "God, I want to know what it feels like to get dicked down by the neighbors" or something, doesn't automatically mean that you're going to march over there in a trenchcoat and lingerie to make that happen. (Y'know, because why not make this example weirdly sexual. That's all I do on Tumblr, anyway.) So he really struggles with the idea of reader just casually wondering 'damn, wonder if Marshall has a big dick' on occasion. (I wanted to say 'August', but she's already seen his, so...)

The part where she talks about not wanting *him* to do that, was a pretty clumsy way of saying 'Hey doofus, I want my cute little idiot, not this daddy-ripoff that's creeping me the fuck out, that's not your forte, get back to what you're good at; making me laugh and adoring my boobs." Actually... That isn't much better XD.

If it's worth anything; acting the way he did was what made her think about his friends in the first place! He was putting on his little cruel degradation-like act - which, again, didn't suit him! - and her mind just went there, because... Listen, I dare you to be faced with a poorly-executed display of dominance and not think about all the ways August - y'know, the Real Deal DaddyTM - would rip your pussy to shreds. End of message XD

Uhm, the boys talking about their favorite place to bite was hot! Can we get back to that later on, please? 🤤

We will! In.... ways.... I'd say 'ways you can't even imagine' but let's be real, we can all imagine them. And we're all probably right in one way or another.

And now I want to know two things: What are Sherlock's kinks? And what the hell happened to him, again?

Y'know, about the kinks: I actually don't know yet, he hasn't been talking to me much, so he's a bit hard to read in this one! That's okay though, he'll tell me when he wants to.

What happened to him was essentially just a terrible day at the office clinic, doctor-patient confidentiality and stuff, he can't talk about it. And then he graded a few papers but that didn't improve his mood because a few students got failing grades.

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk?? Sorry for this whole ass essay? XD

Part 9

Masterlist

Part 8 🟣 Part 10

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, oral (m receiving), attempt at Dom!Mikey (interrupted), p-in-v sex, vampire shenanigans, mentions of blood, biting.

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: My girl @geralts-yenn sent me an ask a while back, about how I was being unfair keeping the kinky little bites to myself, and since I'm a people-pleaser (and I was already thinking we were light on the smut in this one...) there you go ;)

@deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @teamfan7asy @mis-lil-red @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81

“I passed my resit!” Mike had been struggling with that class the whole way through, and you could tell he was really glad it was over now. He’d tried to explain the contents of it to you six or seven times, but you were still completely clueless. It had something to do with engineering – which wasn’t surprising, for a mechanical engineering major.

“I’d say dinner is on me, but…” He rolled is eyes at you – which was fair; it was a horrible joke on your part.

“May I suggest something?” What was he on about? “You really want to do something nice for me. I appreciate that.” Of course he knew that was what you wanted to do right now – how were you still not the least bit used to that?

“Alright, shoot,” you said, even though you had a fairly good idea of how this was going to end. He just grinned and walked over, which was really all the confirmation you needed.

The one thing everyone knew about Mikey was that he had absolutely zero patience. Sitting still, waiting in line, being quiet – it would all turn him annoyingly jittery within minutes. But if you made the mistake of giving this jackass the opportunity to take your clothes off: patience of an angel. Begging would either work in your favor, or he’d really start to play with you, and from experience you knew that trying to help him along would land you shackled to his headboard. Not that that would be so terrible, but you were counting on being able to use your hands. The smug smirk on his face told you that he already knew you wanted him to go faster.

“Baby, please, I want to give you a little something for that grade,” you said. He winked as if to say ‘I know you do’, and kept going. Slowly, so fucking slowly… It was hard for him to show restraint when he finally made it past your blouse, and he was more or less face to face with his favorite toys.

Dating Mike saved you whatever money you used to shell out on matching sets of expensive lace underwear. He’d seen the stuff you already owned, shrugged, and greedily proceeded to unwrap the last bits of you. Sometimes, you just really wanted to be with a guy who appreciated it when you made an effort to dress up for him – and the fact that Mike was well aware of that broke your heart every time you were reminded of it.

“Get on your knees for me,” Mike said as he leaned back against his desk. He startled you; the usual playful tone in his voice was gone – traded in for something so serious and demanding you were surprised he even managed it. There was a darkness to it that caused a tingling sensation to creep down your spine. “It wasn’t a question. I know what you want, now be good for me and get on your knees.” It wasn’t in his voice or even in any other physical reaction of his body, but you could tell he wasn’t completely secure in his little experiment right here. Barking orders was the territory of August, of even Marshall – although you doubted the latter would be inclined to bring that talent into the bedroom. Guilt gnawed at your guts as for a second you wondered what it would be like to be in this position with either of them, knowing Mike could probably tell that you thought so.

“Down, now.” Yeah. He caught on to that little wicked whim. Fingers dug into the flesh of your shoulder and shoved you down. You understood the irritation. And you felt bad. Right?

Mike’s fingers dug into your shoulder even harsher, to the point where he actually hurt you, and he growled when he spoke again: “Open your fucking mouth.” Yeah. It didn’t suit him. At all.

“Stop it, Mikey,” you said. Was it a strong reaction? Sure. Was it necessary? Yeah. Unfortunately, it was. “What the fuck was that?” You scrambled to your feet and looked at Mike.

“It’s what you want.”

“Mikey…” The whole Dom/sub dynamic thing, whatever… It was something you were more than willing to experience, but Mike was more than enough for you just the way he was. And that wasn’t this. “Does the concept latent desire mean anything to you?” You could see it in his eyes; it really didn’t. Or he had some vague idea of what it was supposed to entail, but definitely not something he had any close personal experience with. Mike was… Something in your head just clicked.

“You didn’t just get your gift because Marshall turned you, did you? It’s because you were an impulsive, slightly hedonistic little jackass, isn’t it?” You couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“Eh, that might have had something to do with it, yeah…” Mike admitted. It was clearly difficult for him.

“I don’t have to act on every whim, or every desire I happen to have,” you said, “and there’s a few I certainly don’t want to act on with you. Because this degrading, dominant… asshole – because that’s what you are to me right now – it’s not you. I want my impulsive, playful Mikey back, please. Please.” He thought about what you said for a moment. Was he scared? There was something in his eyes…

“Tell me what you’re thinking, baby.” You ran a hand through his hair before resting your palm on his cheek.

“Don’t leave me for August,” he said in the smallest, lowest voice – probably so low that the others wouldn’t be able to hear it. You almost laughed at the ridiculous idea.

“Never,” you promised. Mike seemed to perk up a little when he heard you say it – and probably felt that you meant it. Nevertheless, you were hell-bent on proving it to him.

You kissed him softly while sliding your hands underneath the fabric of his shirt until you had to let him go for a moment to pull it over his head. He was eager to get his mouth back on yours, but you ducked.

“He- Oh…” You chuckled when the sounds escaped him; a moan interrupting his own objection. That was him. The idiot smile on his face – that you could see as he looked down on you while you kissed all the way down his chest on your way to get back on your knees for him – that was him, too. Mike freed his cock while you were still on your way, and as soon as you were sat in front of him, he put it to your lips, spreading a drop of precum over them. It was a question or an invitation, rather than a demand. It was Mikey.

You wished you could just open your mouth and take him all the way in. He’d love it, you were sure of that. Unfortunately, you weren’t blessed with a talent like that – although you and Mike definitely tried very hard to get rid of your gag reflex. Mike interrupted your thoughts by impatiently tapping his cock against your lips.

“Open your mouth, baby.” It was the signature boyish impatience you were so familiar with that made you want to listen, you were hoping he got that. Of course he got that. He better fucking understand that that was exactly what got him what he wanted.

You barely got the change to stick your tongue out. Your plan had been to tease him a little, circle the head of his cock with your tongue, lick that spot you knew drove him wild, but as soon as you opened your mouth, he pushed in. So you went with that. This was the new plan. Actually, it was Mikey: there was no plan. You listened to his sweet moans of pleasure as you moved your head up and down his shaft, and then… A hard grunt when your teeth scraped his skin – accidentally, of course.

“Fuck, baby, do that again?” He liked it? Alright, no time to question that: he liked it – and you were more than happy to answer to his request. For a while, you explored this newfound little turn-on of his, varying pressure and places. It was definitely the most fun you had ever had while blowing a guy.

“Eh, babe,” you heard after a while, “gimme a little more here? You’re so fucking close to taking me all the way down…” Shit, you hadn’t even noticed that your little bout of experimenting had led you to work more of Mike’s length into your mouth than you ever had. Now that you did realize, the nerves kicked in.

Mike put a hand on your head and looked at you with a clear ‘may I?’ burning in his eyes. The slightest bit of pressure followed immediately; after all, he knew what you wanted…

“Holy fuck, Sweetcheeks, you are so fucking hot.” There was something in his voice that told you he was proud of you. You were proud of yourself, too, so that worked out nicely. Just to see what would happen, you sank your teeth in his flesh again.

“Easy, Sweetcheeks” Mike laughed, “don’t want you to make me cum just yet.” You whined when he pulled out of your mouth and somehow threw you on your bed, got naked, and grabbed a condom in the same second. Well… ‘Somehow’ was an overstatement; it was obviously vampire-speed. Even though you watched him do it, you didn’t see it. It was annoying. It felt as if your eyes failed you, even though you knew they didn’t. Dwelling on it was impossible, though, because Mike was already on top of you, smirking at you with abundant idiot-vibes, kissing your mouth, cheeks, jaw, neck, forehead, ears, shoulders. Licking your cheek. For reasons unbeknownst to literally any living soul but Mike himself.

“Yikes! Mikey! Don’t lick me!” Hold on? Did you just hear someone laugh? It sure as fuck wasn’t Mike… Luckily you had only been partially undressed. Mike had only taken your shirt off before starting his little experiment.

“I don’t know who that was, but butt out,” Mike said before you could even open your mouth. He turned to you next: “I swear they don’t listen, but you kinda shouted that. And it was funny, I’ll give him that.”

“Who was it?” Did you want to know? Yeah, you were far too curious. But needing to know something and actually wanting to hear the answer… Two entirely different things.

“August,” Mike said. His tone was very neutral.

“Ah. Well I guess I owe him one,” you said softly as you felt your cheeks warm up.

“What, for walking in on him jacking off? Yeah, the whole house heard that.” Mike laughed the way you loved so much; loudly and unapologetically. He ordered the rest of the house to put on headphones and went back to kissing you all over – although he didn’t lick your cheek again.

“Hm, my reward for passing my class,” he mused when he had – barely – managed to get rid of your bra with it still in one piece.

“That blowjob was your reward,” you replied to him, which earned you a disapproving look from below.

“I want both.” Well, okay, if he was going to give you that look… Done deal. Stupid puppy-eyed boyfriend. You could easily imagine falling asleep to the treatment he gave your boobs; gently massaging and squeezing the flesh of your breasts while he sucked on your nipples. He was gentle, his touch comforting and thrilling, making you shiver and arch into his touch. He focused on your chest for a while, but it wasn’t too long before his hands started to wander, clearly on a mission to take the rest of your clothes off. It didn’t take him long – of course it didn’t.

“Head or dick?” Oh, options! How fantastic! You laughed when he asked, cupping his chin with your hand, pulling him back up so he could kiss you. “No head?”

“No,” you sighed into his mouth, whimpering as he pulled away to take care of the uncharming latex-y aspect of things.

He sank into you without hesitation, and a little too enthusiastically, causing you to gasp.

“Sorry Sweetcheeks,” he said, apologetic smirk on his face, “couldn’t wait. Love the way your pussy feels too much.” You’d been so startled – and almost ashamed – the first time you had slept together and he’d talked to you like that, but now you never wanted to have to miss it. It was worth enduring the occasional tongue on your cheek.

Mike’s movements became more controlled, thrusts now slow and deep, making sure you felt every inch of him inside of you. His mouth latched onto your nipple again as he kept moving. It was nice, even when he grazed the sensitive skin with his teeth.

You heard the low growl, deep at the back of his throat, felt his fangs drag over your skin, decidedly sharper than the rest of his teeth.

“You want a bite, don’t you?” The answer was the cutest little ‘mhm’, and you chuckled. “Go ahead, baby.”

Expectations: a bite like the last few times you’d spent time dabbling in this funky little kink of his. Teeth on neck, teeth in neck, teeth out of neck. Reality: Teeth in boob. The pain was as manageable as always – comparable to a bite on your neck, slightly more painful than your wrists – but the unexpectedness was startling.

“Mikey!” you warned, even though it was clearly already too late for a warning. You could tell from the way he moved that he was chasing his release, getting closer with every controlled, shallow thrust, as he suckled on your breast. Fuck, it felt good. Everything he did now was so gentle, so different from your normal, lively, enthusiastic rounds in the sheets – or in the shower, or that one time on the couch when you had the apartment to yourselves – but it was fantastic.

Mike didn’t let go of you when he finally came, which wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

“Mike,” you said softly while you stroked his hair, hoping he’d look up. He did shift, and his cock slipped out of you, so that was one crisis averted, but he didn’t detach from your boob. “Mi-key. Stop.” The truth was that you didn’t want him to stop. But like you had said before: you weren’t giving him that privilege over the others, and he’d have to deal with that.

“Mike, I want you to stop.” He had to. He would have, even if he wasn’t biologically compelled to, you were sure of that, but he was, so he had to listen to you all the more. “That was a little more than the kinky little bite you asked for, wasn’t it?” He looked ashamed of himself when he confirmed your suspicion.

“Sorry, baby, you just taste so good,” he said before his tongue gently lapped at the puncture wounds on your chest. You had noticed that the Sherlock and August had also done that when they had been done feeding. And Marshall, at the end of the second try.  

“Why do you do that?” you asked.

“It helps the wounds heal,” Mike said, “some enzyme or God knows what. I’m an engineer, not a biologist.” Sherlock would definitely know the answer. You’d been showering him with questions, anyway, a few more wouldn’t hurt. Besides, he quite seemed to like giving you lectures. It was probably a nice change of pace from a half-dead classroom.

Mike took care of cleanup, and upon return he snuggled into your side, no doubt sending that was what you wanted most right now.

“Can I do anything for you?” Another redundant question made the first one pop back into your head. You assured him this was everything you wanted from him before unleashing your question.

“You knew,” you said. Was it an accusation? Not really.

“Knew what?” He wasn’t feigning his innocence; it was genuinely a super vague question.

“The second you asked me if I wanted you to go down on me or fuck me, you knew what the answer was going to be.”

“I did.” He laughed softly. You loved it when he did that

“You asked out of politeness.” You almost didn’t believe it.

“Eh… Yeah. I’ve been told – not just by you, by the way – that it’s annoying when I snoop around in your head. So I figured I’d try to get used to asking for some confirmation…”

“Confirmation you don’t need,” you said. Your fingers twirled around in his hair, wrapping his dark locks around them and releasing them again. It made him shiver and moan slightly, which made it your favorite pastime when you were in bed with him.

“Confirmation I want because maybe what you want and what you want me to know you want – or what you want me to act on – are not the same thing.”

“Who have you been talking to?”

“Sherlock,” he admitted. You laughed. That sounded like him.

“I passed my final!” Mike said when you appeared at the dinner table for… well, dinner.

“We heard,” August groaned. You hit him over the head with a book. It almost cost you the book, but August’s skull seemed to be fine.

“We’re robust, love, you must have noticed.” At this point, you didn’t bother telling Marshall to get out of your head anymore.

“Where’d you bite her?” August asked as he handed you a stack of plates while not-so-subtly investigating your neck. Mike didn’t answer, but a suggestive eyebrow-wiggle did the trick just fine. You assumed everyone in the house knew exactly how fond Mike was of boobs, anyway. He wasn’t particularly secretive about that, or anything.

“Kinky,” August replied. He pinched your ass when you were bent over the table to put plates down on the other side, making you jump.

“Hey!” You couldn’t help but laugh. Over the past few weeks, some of the tension between Mike and August had dissolved, and despite Mike’s lingering insecurities, everyone got along really well. “August, hands off.” Wait, why were they laughing? Why wasn’t Mike throwing a fit? You would have expected him to kick August’s ass if he… Of course.

“Mikey!” They had promised to not abuse their stupid abilities to mess with you.

“Couldn’t help myself, Sweetcheeks,” he said, putting a lot of emphasis on that last syllable before laughing at his own corny joke.

“Next time, bite her there,” Marshall joked.

“Eh, guys, can we cool it on the locker room talk?” It’s not that the general subject was making you uncomfortable, but you yourself being the specific subject sure did. “Out of curiosity, what is the best place to… y’know.” Chickening out on that last bit really hurt your girlboss act. Damn!

“Tiddies,” Mike said as he walked past you, pressing his lips to your cheek. Marshall and August had more complicated answers. You could tell from the mischievous glint in their eyes.

“Come on, boys, if you’re tough enough to make fun of me and Mikey for… I don’t know, being the only ones in a relationship, I guess?”

“Alight,” Marshall gave in, “if you must know. You edge her for a bit and right when she’s about to cum all over your face; inside of her thigh.” The grin on his face was unbearable, the wink – or attempt at a wink – was even worse.

“Thanks for the tip!” Mike said. There was far too much grinning going on here for your liking, but you couldn’t exactly be mad at it, because it was your own fault.

“Nah, you spank her good, until her ass is nice and red, then you bite it. I’ve been told it hurts like a bitch.” Alright, August definitely enjoyed that thought a little too much.

“My Goodness, I have three children,” Sherlock suddenly said, strolling into the kitchen so casually you weren’t sure if you were discussing kinky vampire habits or the evening news. Judging from the way he glared at the guys, it didn’t bother him that they talked about it, but it did bother him that they were being a certain kind of way about it.  

“So, no crazy vampire kinks for you?” Perhaps Sherlock’s answer was the one you were most curious about.

“Not particularly. Can we please discuss something else?” He looked so uncomfortable you almost wanted to hug him. In fact…

“Sherlock, are you alright?” He shook his head and explained he’d had a terrible day at work. Some kind of incident he couldn’t say too much about. Before you knew it, you had your arms wrapped around him, his casually resting on the side of your hips. You didn’t know where the sudden urge to comfort him came from, but it was there. He was a good friend, he deserved to be taken care of.

“Why don’t you go take a shower, we’ll wait for a bit,” August suggested, and everyone else agreed. It was August’s lasagna, which was absolutely fucking delicious. Then again, he’d had four centuries to learn how to cook.

[irafook]

I JUST FOUND YOUR ART BLOG AND YOUR ART IS SO PRETTY I LOVE YOUR COLORS AND LINE WORK SO MUCH

Thank you so much!! I'm glad you enjoy it so ❤❤

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIV Write 2022 //ffxivwrite info//prompt list//character info//master post//

Prompt thirteen: Confluence | noun; a gathering together, especially of people | Word count: 707 Characters: Syren Ligeia  CW: None  Notes: this word gave me such a hassle for some reason so I saved it for make up day XD Syren took over for this one, so it seems my new alt is getting a lot of love for this year’s write which is fine by me cause he is very fun to write for I’ve found! Once again set pre-arr Ishgard, Syren is just shy of 16 here. This one again loosely follows the prompt but it went in an entirely different direction than planned but I am still satisfied of how it turned out. He lived a very different life compared to Kien so it’s been fun to write the differences.

——

“Stop fidgeting my sweet, you look fine.”

Syren had to resist the urge to retort back at his mother, knowing full well the woman would not hesitate to put him in his place, even in front of a crowd. He didn’t exactly want to make a scene at the ball when he already stood out to begin with so he instead lowered his hands and tucked them under his arms with a huff.

“I’m not worried about how I look,” Syren muttered as he kept his focus in front of him, scanning the crowd of Highborns laughing and chatting as a small string quartet played in the background. He was thankful to be tucked in the background away from them all but it still didn’t improve his mood. “I just don’t understand how all these people can gather together to throw a ball when we’re still in the middle of a war.” He paused and moved a hand to loosen the collar again, finally satisfied that it didn’t feel as tight anymore.

His mother pursed her lips. “Trust me, I don’t quite understand it myself but this war has been going on since long before you were born or before I even came to Ishgard after marrying your father. I suppose this is a way to feel like they still have control of things.”

Syren finally turned and shook his head with a frown. “This is supposed to be a ball to honor our Temple Knights but the majority of them cannot even be here to enjoy the festivities because they’re on the front lines, father included. How is any of this fair?” He kept his voice low but the anger was evident.

“I know my sweet,” his mother turned to face him, a sympathetic look crossing her face as she grabbed his hand and gently squeezed it. “I wish your father could be here and not out, risking his life against the dragons every day. You know as well as I do that he was the one who chose to forgo this ball to continue to lead his unit. I pray to Halone he is safe and there will one day be a day where he can be with us again.”

“You can pray all you want, mother,” Syren began slowly as he pulled his hand away. “But praying alone to the Fury won’t be enough to end this war sooner.” He gazed out at the crowd again, watching as his little sister Willow happily waltzed around to the song as he continued to speak. “When my nameday comes around, I’ll be joining the Temple Knights. I want to prove myself worthy to fight by father’s side and end this war.” His ice blue eyes locked gazes with his mother’s, pleading for her approval. “This was never some silly childhood dream.”

His mother bit her lip, turning away for a moment as if to gather herself for her answer. The buzz of chatter filled the silence between them before she finally drew a shaky breath and nodded her head. “If that is your wish, then I won’t hold you back.”

Syren nodded firmly and his mother turned to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I knew it was never a silly childhood dream, I just thought I had a little longer before you were ready to leave the nest.” She took up both his hands and squeezed them again. “You’ve got a good heart Sy, your father will be proud.”

“Thank you,” Syren began to say but before he could finish, the moment between them was interrupted by Willow bounding over with a giggle.

“Sy! Come on! Come dance with me, please?” She tugged insistently on his arm with a grin. Syren glanced at her pleading expression and rolled his eyes with a smile, knowing there was no sense in trying to say no. He looked back at his mother and they exchanged a quiet nod in understanding. It may not have been a ball for the best of reasons but might as well enjoy the time together while they still could.

“Alright, come on,” Syren offered his arm to her and together they submerged into the crowd of people as the next song began.

[princess-of-inarizaki]

Hi love, pretty sure you're requests are open (if not just ignore this) n e ways what about Inarizaki with manager who's like intimidating (i've been told i am intimidating lol) and very sarcastic, much Tsukishima Kei vibez cuz that's basically me😃

Just like how would our boys react, very curious and take your time btw don't have to rush it, do it whenever you feel like :D

Oh my gosh Nat, it's literally my honour to write this for you. You can request anything, anytime, and you'll be a top priority (ily<3)

Inarizaki with a tsukkishima-ish manager.

Specially dedicated to @sunasthing <3

So first of all, if you think that's gonna stop the boys from simping over you, you've got it wrong 😖🖐️

The boys would literally take it as a challenge to get your softer nature out, especially Atsumu.

I GENUINELY think he'd find it really hot whenever you snap back at him, or tell him off. (maybe he's like Nishinoya and Tanaka in that sense 🙄)

Constantly pesters you, and although you don't give him a reply often (because he's annoying as fuck), if you ever acknowledge him slightly, he WILL flirt with you.

Beware tho, even if he comes off as flirty and charismatic, he's literally just a dorky small baby and genuinely wants your attention because he thinks you're the coolest person ever.

And if you're ever nice to him, you can best bet he'll replay that moment in his mind before sleeping EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT.

Y/n, earlier that day: don't get hurt. I don't want to have to deal with anyone on this team being injured

Atsumu at 3 a.m: s-she cares about me 🥺🥺

I think Osamu would vibe really well with you. He's not annoying, he's really really chill, and he has a pretty sharp tongue himself.

Judges people as an attempt to make you laugh, and he sees it as a personal victory if he can get you to crack a smile or smirk. He just doesn't make a big deal about it, unlike his twin xD

Osamu: y/n look at that guy. he's totally crushing on his brother's best friend, could he not be more obvious about it??

Y/n: *cracks a smirk* yeah, it does seem so.

Osamu, internally: ✨v i c t o r y i s s w e e t✨

He also cooks for you pretty often, and even if you protest against accepting it, you'll usually find a bento hidden in your locker or bag.

He knows you might not accept it straight, so he finds other ways to get it to you. Osamu actually thinks of you as a cooler sister that he says "he'd trade Atsumu for"

In general, the twins are the life of Inarizaki and although they're sometimes annoying, they mean well and it's plain to see that they love you.

Kita loves how smart and analytical you are. I've said this before, I'll say it again— Kita thinks brains are sexy 😤

Especially when you call the team to give your insights about their opponents, or give them ideas on how to improve their play, Kita is literally there like “I'm so glad she's ours”

Because you would be a dangerous asset to other teams, and Kita is the most thankful that you're with them.

He's also a really good leader and although the two of you don't have heart-to-hearts or conversations like the twins, you know he'll ALWAYS be there for you.

Like once, it was raining and practice was cancelled, so you decided to wait in school until the rain subsided (because you didn't want to get wet), and our sweet Kita searched for you in every single classroom until the finally found you and walked you home. That's just the dynamic you had with him

He also often checks up on you, even when it's unrelated to volleyball. Have you done your homework? have you ate breakfast this morning? although you're usually sarcastic with the twins and most of the other members of the team, you can't bring yourself to do so with Kita.

The respect you guys have for each other is unmatched and that's probably why you're such a golden duo in Inarizaki. The leader and the analytical manager.

And now Suna. I think Suna would be the member you have the deepest bond with. you truly allow him to see who you are inside, and he does the same. You guys really just click.

It started with him complaining about Atsumu, and slowly progressed into you letting Suna be the only member to have physical contact with you, but only when the others aren't looking.

Sometimes, if you guys are the only two people in the gym, he'll nap on your lap or lean on your shoulder.

If you didn't already know, like everyone else in Inarizaki, he has a crush on you 😖🖐️ like damn you thought Atsumu had it bad? nah, Suna has it the worst.

He literally asks his little sister to let him practice braiding her hair, just so he'll be perfect when he someday asks to do yours.

But he always chickens out because he's scared you'll say no 😭😭 he's internally very shy, okay? 🥺🥺

He's literally your best friend. You guys have study sessions together, anime nights, literally anything, he's right there with you. The rest of the team are literally not aware of how close the two of you are.

Until one day, Atsumu tries daring you to kiss Suna on the forehead, and instead of flat-out refusing (like you've done before when he's dared you to kiss him, or Akagi) you shrug and gently kiss Suna on the forehead, causing Suna to smile and ruffle your hair.

The rest of the team is just shocked.

Atsumu: what is this FUCKERY?? is y/n literally WILLINGLY touching someone ??¿¿

Y/n and Suna: *smirks*

Atsumu, close to tears: okay

But the rest of the team soon accept you and Suna have a pretty special bond, and that you're genuinely softer when it comes to him.

You don't snap at him much, and as they've noticed, Suna has started being more brave about leaning on your shoulder or sleeping on your lap.

Of course, the rest of the team (with the exception of Kita) is jealous. But hey, they just don't have Suna's charm, okay? xD

You make Suna want to try harder, and he's way more motivated to give it his all in every single game. Mostly because he wants you to be proud of him.

He definitely has a nickname for you, but he will only use it when he's sure you guys are alone. And in return, you call him "Rin" which makes his heart flutter 🥺🥺

KAHDKSS I TOOK SO LONG WITH THE SUNA ONE PLEASE IM TURNING BOTH OF US INTO EVEN BIGGER SUNA SIMPS (as if we weren't already xD)

Now onto Aran !! Aran is a softie who (like Kita) respects you a great deal. He'll fend Atsumu and Osamu off if he senses you aren't having a great day.

He's also pretty good at giving you your space but he checks up on you every once in a while if anyone is bothering you.

Although he's shy about it, Aran actually comes to you when he doesn't understand a homework question. You're super smart and he knows you won't make him feel bad about not knowing.

And it makes you feel happy to know he trusts you, so you help him as best as you can. It's a little secret of yours that the other members don't know about.

It especially lights your day up when he gets a good grade and whispers a silent "thank you" to you in class.

In return, will help you with anything you ask for. No questions asked.

And now, last but not least, sunshine Akagi!! I think he's a total Hinata Shoyo, so he might annoy you a bit at first because of his bright personality.

But deep down inside, you love how easily he gets people to smile and slowly find yourself warming up to him.

And Akagi is really determined to get you to smile (at least once a day) so he cracks the corniest jokes or makes puns.

It has become a thing between the two of you, where Akagi tells you a joke a day, and you rate it out of ten.

Gone are the days when you found him annoying. And now, even if you won't tell him outright— you really do think he's one of the brightest people in your life.

Additional headcanons

CHEERING YOU UP— whenever you feel quieter than usual, or a bit more sarcastic, the boys immediately know something is wrong and rush over to make you feel okay. Literally, it's almost like they've abandoned practice. And eventhough you tell them to get back to it, they refuse to leave until you're feeling better. Suna usually gives you a hug and kisses your forehead, whilst Akagi cracks jokes. Then, (and eventhough you protest) Atsumu lists off all the things you should love about yourself, whilst Osamu buys you ice cream (food is, after all, the best cure for anything). Aran is literally ready to HUNT the person who affected your mood down, and kill them, whilst Kita is literally just holding him back and making sure things don't go overboard. Even if you aren't fully cheered up by then, you'd have laughed a whole lot and know how much they care for you, so honestly... how could you stay sad?

REACTING TO YOU TELLING THEM OFF— Suna is literally just meh about it. He can't take you seriously because he's a dork who thinks he's not included in the list of "idiots" (but no Suna, u mf, you ARE included -_-). Atsumu thinks it's hot 👀 (as I mentioned above), Akagi is genuinely upset/ready to sob and vows to do better. Kita is proud of you for telling them off before he could do it (Kita is not included in the "idiots". How could he? he's PERFECT 🖐️). Osamu and Aran have similar reactions, because they end up apologizing and try to change tactics and do better.

HOW THEY'D ACT WHEN YOU START DATING SUNA— (because this is honestly inevitable, wbk 😭❤️). Atsumu would be jealous. Petty and would call Suna "pretty boy" every chance he gets. Leave him, im sure he'll get over it 🥺🥺 Osamu is pretty jealous too, but he'll never show it and focuses instead on your happiness. Kita approves, and honestly thinks you're a good influence on Suna. Aran is protective of you, and would literally gun Suna down if he ever hurt you (but he won't. Suna loves you, he'd literally jump down a cliff before ever hurting you 😤🖐️) and Akagi is cheerful as before, but extra glad because you seem to smile a bit more often (and Akagi loves your smile).

I took a lot of effort on this <3 hope you like it, bae !! Taglist— @dai-tsukki-desu @sunasthing @k-sakusa-old @tilli-san

[ygreczed-3]

K so first of all your art is super well done, and second of all might I propose, for your consideration, drawing Hank and Connor playing baseball bc for some reason when I saw your nurse AU related drawings I just looked at Connor and was like you know what he needs. A baseball cap. And those vertical stripes. And a bat. 😂 Or maybe he'd be pitching. Idk your art style just drew these images to the top of my mind and also Hank would totally catching with Connor batting—or maybe batting if Connor was pitching 🤔 but a;lsdkfj yes anywho thank you for coming to my tedtalk xD

I swear 🙏 I'll answer all the asks another day (because it's late here oopsie) but right now I just want to say. YES. BASEBALL DOODLES. WE. NEED. THESE.

Also younger Hank so they can be in the same team cause Hank is awesome but I don't think he would be playing in a major league team à 53 yo ahah. I can see them practice together a lot, Connor as a pitcher and Hank as a hitter. Connor's really good at pitching, he has an inner understanding of the ball's physics and is agile. Hank is an outfielder, he may not look like it, but he's very fast and observant so he rarely misses a fly ball.

Well my dear this ask was SO COOL ! The best Tedtalk I've ever watched ahah

More headcanons below 👀

Connor is specialized in pitching, Hank is his designated hitter for most games.

I already see Connor peeping on Hank whenever he has the chance to see his bare chest... 👀 And Hank pretending he doesn't know and casually showing off lol. Connor would always keep him in his range of vision during workout sessions especially.

Hank loves looking at Connor pitching: he finds him so graceful and yet so strong.

They would re-watch their old games together to try to understand why they lose, laughing at the close-ups they make on them. "Look at you, you look so goofy ahahah" "Hey !!! You have a squint, what do you have to say about that ?" Connor would fall asleep on Hank's shoulder before the end of the game and Hank would enjoy the moment quietly.

Also, Hank would often tease Connor about the fact he's a terrible hitter (I mean, he's good but not as good as Hank). "At least I can hit the ball" he says smugly once. Connor stares at him as the other team members are "wooooh"-ing around them. "Well you can't pitch" Connor replies, shrugging. "Hitting is primitive. Pitching requires more... fingering." Then Connor leaves, as the whole team laughs and claps a furiously blushing Hank on the back.

One day, Connor asks Hank to help him get better at hitting, the bigger man happily accepts. They train during the whole afternoon and when the sun starts to get lower in the sky Connor calls it a day. As they head to the showers, Hanks says "You should teach me how to pitch, someday". Connor is surprised: "I didn't know you were interested in pitching... It's so challenging it gets frustrating... It discourages so many players." Hank doesn't know what to reply. "You're persistent Connor. That's something I admire about you." Then, he walks past Connor into the locker room and adds "Plus I'd like to improve my fingering". That is the death of Connor.

Hank has to follow a strict diet during the season. He hates it but he knows he has to so he's hard on himself and won't allow himself any kind of treat, because he knows he's a big eater. It has a repercussion on his mood though, and Connor notices it quite quickly. One evening, Hank walks out of the gym after a workout, sipping on a cucumber smoothie, he sees Connor waiting for him with a strawberry milkshake in his hand. "I know you're strict with yourself because you're scared of losing control... but I will be careful. Only one milkshake a week during the season. Deal ?" It's Hank's best milkshake ever, but nothing compared to the sweetness of Connor's smile.

Last but not least, Hank with a bat is the hottest phallic metaphor Connor could ever think of.

[alby-rei]

[Arthur Week, Day 3] Midnight Snacks

a/n: in which MC (ft. accomplice Dazai) wants to make the resident flirt, Arthur Conan Doyle, jealous. Why? Who knows! But what I do know is that it ends up working in his favor rather than MC’s... wait, what?

a/n 2: changed the title cuz it was bothering me xD nothing else changed.

My entry for @scummy-writes​‘s Arthur Week! 

Day 3: Coffee and Fudge || Writer’s Block

[Pairing]: Arthur x You/gn!MC, (pre-relationship)

[Characters]: You, Arthur, Dazai, Sebastian

[Word count]: ~2300 words

[Rating]: T

[POV]: 2nd Person 

“...and all of a sudden, I hear Mozart yell ‘stop releasing chickens in my music room!’ but Dazai didn’t even flinch!” You brought a foam-covered hand up to your mouth to cover your laughter.

You and Sebastian were cleaning the dishes together after lunch time. You’ve made it a habit to catch up on your day and share observations with Sebas, as pretty much no one steps into the kitchen around this time.

Well, that is except—

“_____~!”

Except Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, naturally. He must’ve finished his writing session and been wandering around the mansion, as is his trademark since your arrival.

You closed your eyes, hoping the man would walk past the kitchen without checking. You weren’t exactly in the mood for flirty games with the mystery writer, especially not after dealing with a haughty music teacher in Mozart. Sadly, luck was not on your side, today.

“I’ll tell you the rest later,” you wipe your hands with a towel. Picking up the tray of plates and cups to put them in their rightful places, you didn’t pay the writer any mind.

“After this I gotta find Dazai,” you said as you opened a cupboard. Your turned around to find Arthur leaning on the door frame, and your tone shifted dramatically, “Oh! Arthur, funny to see you here.”

Sebastian knew that tone very well. It was your sickeningly sweet voice that you dedicated to either (a) dodging conversation, or (b) planning something against that person.

“I’d say the same to you, ___, but you’re always in the kitchen. I couldn’t help dropping in to check on my favorite bird,” Arthur leaned against the door frame, flashing you a grin and a wink.

“Oh please, don’t talk about birds after what happened this morning,”  You caught sight of your target at the end of the hallway, “aaaand I have to go, see ya!” 

You duck under Arthur’s arm while his guard was down. He twirled around to follow you, but you evaded him, calling out to Dazai. Arthur stood in his tracks, as he watched the japanese author stop for you, and you beamed up at him.

“Dazai-san, I’ve been wanting to ask you for something, if you’re… free,” you noticed mid-sentence that the chicken that was still nestled in his arms.

“Hm?” His piercing yellow eyes brightened, “I’ll always have time for you, Toshiko-san.”

“Bawk!” The chicken… agreed, supposedly.

You laughed sheepishly, “That’s very sweet of you, I was actually interested in learning about your writing style and get some advice. I’ve been going through some terrible writer’s block.”

“I was working on a short story earlier, it’s in my room. Want to come with me?” He began to lead her towards his room.      

“I’m honored! I’d love to, Dazai-san.”

Oh yes, you were definitely planning something, Sebastian noted.

As the two of them walked away, Arthur stood glued watching the scene. Sebastian had been poking his arm the whole time, but he didn’t budge. Even shaking his entire arm didn’t spur any sudden movement from him.

“Sir Arthur. Earth to Sir Arthur,” Sebas continued tapping his shoulder and pinching his arm.

“Huh? Oh…” His gaze held an odd expression, one that Sebastian hadn’t seen from him before—a hint of sadness, maybe even frustration. But it was quickly replaced by his signature grin as he finally took notice of me, “Sorry, Sebas, I must’ve been blocking your path, got to go!”

And just like that, he scurried off.

After a moment’s pause, and after making sure the hallway was clear of esteemed residents, Sebastian did much the same, but in the opposite direction. He has notes to take, pronto. 

~*~

You and Dazai sat in the lounge room, having passed by his room, and Dazai collected his writing material.

“You have really pretty hands, Toshiko-san. I’ve heard you playing in Mo-kun’s piano room, you’re a wonderful pianist,” Dazai held your hand delicately in his, as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

“Thank you, it’s something I take a lot of pride in,” your heart swelled from the warmth of his compliment, “but I’ve been much more interested with writing as of late. Actually, I’ve always wanted to write a novel.”

“Oh? I admire your ambition. How can I help?”      

“Well well well, what do we have here?” A third voice chimed in.

Right on time, as you expected.

“Have I interrupted your little rendezvous?” Arthur walked slowly and purposefully, as if he had caught them red-handed doing something they shouldn’t.

Internally, he was trying his best not to jump to conclusions. That would be uncharacteristic of him, after all. You weren’t tied to him in anyway, so there was no reason to feel so jealous that you went to Dazai for writing help instead of him. He didn’t even know about it!

So why was his heart pounding so loudly in his head while his eyes were fixated on their linked hands?

Dazai withdrew his hand, occupying it with his writing pen instead. He shot Arthur a smile with closed eyes.

“Of course not, we were just talking, Arty.”

“…Don’t call me that,” Arthur narrowed his eyes, “and second, I’d like to steal ____ now.”

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but I want to talk with Dazai a bit to improve my writing.”

Being shot down so directly caught Arthur off-guard; his insecurities getting a hold of him. For the first time, he found himself at a loss for ways to turn the conversation in his favor. At the moment, if he persisted, and you kept turning him down, he wouldn’t be able to let it down for the rest of the day.

Instead, Arthur straightened himself, fixing his tie, “Well then, I’m heading to the pub soon enough to find me a pretty skirt for the evening. Have fun, you two, I know I will.”

He huffed childishly, going out with a wave. Dazai turned to you with a polite smile.

“Do you think it worked?”

“Oh, he is definitely salty, thanks for agreeing to this, Dazai-san.”

“Any time, Yoshie-san, what are housemates for?” He smiled fondly at you.

“You’re a great actor, didn’t even flinch!”

“Ah, but who said I was acting?”

He got up with his writing tools and stepped out of the lounge before you registered what he said.

“Wait… what?!”

~*~

Later that evening…

…Well, more like around midnight, you just happened to catch the insomnia bug and were heading to the kitchen, as all people naturally do when they’re insomniac. You switched on the lights, thankful for the dimness of the lanterns in the kitchen. Scanning your options, your eyes settled on the coffee pot that sat quietly in the corner. Thoughts of a certain mystery writer gnawed at you, but you darted them away and walked past the coffee pot to get a glass of water instead. You leaned forward, filling her glass with bleary eyes that refused to slumber but also refused to open properly.  

Suddenly, you felt a touch to your backside. Eyes cracking wide open, you spun around and swung your makeshift weapon of glass at your offender. The offending mop of ash blue hair felt the full force of the blow, and the glass shattered across the floor.

Well crap.

“Ow… If I’m not mistaken, I’d say you were trying to kill me there, ____.”

For the love—.

“Arthur what the hell were you trying to pull?! Bloody hell! You made my heart drop.”

In a flash, his body was pressed against yours, caging you between his arms and the kitchen counter. The crunch of the glass under his shoes was the only sound in the room. You saw a small stream of blood start to fall by his ear.

“I was going to prepare myself a midnight snack with my coffee, but it seems I already found one ready for a taste test,” he licked the back of his fangs.

“At this hour??” It was well past midnight by now, and caffeine was the last thing you’d recommend anyone at this time. 

You felt his breath on your ear before he inhaled your scent. It was comforting to him as much as it was intoxicating to his senses.

He sighed, “____… I can’t get you out of my mind, no matter what I do.”

His arms circled around your waist, pulling you away from the countertop and flush against him, instead. All sorts of alarms were going off in your mind despite the drowsiness, with your instincts telling you to push him off.

“But then, you started avoiding me. And then… Sebastian and Mozart and even Dazai took you away from me,” he sniffled.

You pushed him off gently but still within his arms, as you stared at his face. There was a pink dust across his cheeks and a redness in the corners of his eyes.

“Arthur, are you… drunk?”

His frown flipped into a grin as he nuzzled his nose into your disheveled hair.

“Oh, don’t be silly, dear. I may have been out drinking, but I can bloody well hold my liquor. Theo can vouch for me on that.”

(a/n: no, he can’t lmao)

The sight of him in a somewhat vulnerable state, as well as the smell of his cologne, made it hard for you to properly fight him. Plus, you felt bad for crushing a glass cup on his head. Speaking of which…

“Is your head okay?”

“Hm…” He brought a gloved hand to his forehead, feeling a dull pounding in its wake, “I must say, you got me good, even the most daring fools never landed a hit on me yet.”

Just how thick is his skull to endure that?! You were both dazzled and frightened by their realization. 

With one of his arms off of you, you took this chance to escape, but you slid on a shard of glass and would have fallen face first onto the floor had Arthur not pulled you against him and taken the impact of the floor to his own shoulder. He laid on his back, clutching you protectively against his chest. He groaned with pain, but he pushed it aside to check on you first.

“Clumsy tonight, are we, or are you seriously trying to kill me?” He chuckled wryly.

Before you could even blink, you felt your vision do a 180-flip, and you were suddenly beneath him, away from the glass shards that littered the floor. The scent of his cologne flooded your senses again, as he smirked down on you with a drunken lopsided grin.

“I was absolutely livid when I saw Dazai hold your hand. Was that part of your plan, darling? Well, I’ve taken the bait.”

You flinched, your body wide awake to every touch and caress of this man. You bit your lip to avoid playing into his hands. You were still in control of the situation, you thought. His lips descended to your jaw, barely brushing your skin, like he’s testing your limits. Instinctively, you sighed, unaware of the breath you’d been holding.

Ok, maybe you weren’t entirely in control, either.

“Arthur…” You commanded, trying to regain some semblance of control back.

This was not part of your plan, however, and you were quickly losing grip of all reason and logic. You needed to get him off and away from you before you acquiesced to his ministrations.

“But don’t worry, ____. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

He drew back from you, staring down at you with an uncharacteristic tender look. He continued.

“The effect you have on me is not one I’ve felt with any woman I’ve ever encountered before. It’s confusing—maddening, even— and I can’t escape it… because I don’t want to,” he sighed in surrender, “I want you, ___.” 

It was a look of pure love and affection that shone in his eyes. His half-opened shirt invited your gaze to roam his body, and his thick-rimmed glasses framed his features in such an alluring glow that outshone the dimness of the kitchen. His hair looked softer than usual, too. Your hand twitched at the thought of running your fingers through those ash blue locks. Your mind was thrown into a whirlwind with the influx of new information, one that dented your rationality. Your desire to get closer to him wrestled against your impartial stoicism, threatening to crack the armor around the stone gates to your heart.

“Hey Arthur,” you started, twirling a lock of his hair with your hand. It was ever-so-slightly damp; he must’ve bathed in le thermae earlier.

“Yes, ____?”

Damn that seductive voice of his, you shooed away that thought as soon as it entered. You chose to focus on something much more pressing at the moment. 

“We need to get you bandaged up. You’re bleeding terribly from your head.”

~*~

It took a lot of convincing, but Arthur finally acquiesced to your persistent request.

“There, all done,” you stepped back from Arthur, who was sitting hunched over on his bed.

You were both settled in his room with his medical bag open on the desk and his equipment strewn all around. You didn’t exactly know what to do to treat Arthur’s wound, but you insisted on doing it for him… with copious amounts of instructions from him.

“I brought you some fresh coffee and fudge, as an apology.”

“At this hour?” He mimicked your tone from earlier. You rolled your eyes at his childishness.

“And here I am trying to make it up to you, and this is how you show gratitude?”

You huffed indignantly, ready to head out and leave the unappreciative writer to his own devices.

“Hold on, now,” he gripped your wrist before you could fully turn away, “you’re the one who smashed glass on my head, so you owe me a favor.”

“…a favor on top of tending to your wounds and bringing you coffee?”

“Oh, indulge me, won’t you? You did those of your own volition.”

You sigh, “Depends on the request, then.”

“Feed me,” he perked up with no hesitation or embarrassment in his tone.

You wanted to turn him down, to tease him about his child-like excitement, but you couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes. Those eyes held a very powerful hold over you though you blame it on your own tiredness outweighing your better judgment.

“Alright…” You moved aside his things to sit next to him, leaning towards the table to drag the tray closer to yourself.

“Open wide, you incorrigible baby.”

[sapphirelass]

Two Peas in a Pod - Harry PotterxSister!Reader

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For this one-shot I have taken inspiration from both the book and the film, as well as left out parts of the original dialogue that, for the purpose of this story, felt irrelevant.

Word count: ≈ 2400

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You probably already knew this, but still XD

(Y/N) - Your name

(Y/N/N) - Your nickname

(Y/H/C) - Your hair colour

(Y/H/L) - Your hair length

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Two Peas in a Pod

Harry Potter and his twin sister (Y/N) were like two peas in a pod. Always had been. Supposedly, that was what happened when young magicians had to grow up with muggles, especially if those muggles were named “Dursley”. Harry was always more impulsive, whereas (Y/N) took on the role of the rational one, yet they had both been placed in Gryffindor house by the sorting hat four years prior.

It was now the first of September 1995, and last year had been a rough one. Lord Voldemort, the dark wizard who had killed Harry and (Y/N)’s parents, had just come back and despite their efforts, this holiday had been more miserable than any of the previous ones. Dudley and his friends, dementor attacks, and a general lack of communication with the wizarding world left the twins in a particularly bad mood. They arrived at Kings Cross, and after pulling Harry away from Draco Malfoy, (Y/N), her brother, Ron and Hermione boarded the Hogwarts express, and found a place to sit.

During the start-of-the-year feast, the small group of friends quickly realized that something was wrong. Their new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor - Dolores Umbridge - was a ministry employe, which was weird on its own, but the way she spoke, acted, and kept interrupting Dumbledore with shrill, irritating *hum hum*’s made them all feel queasy.

After a quiet discussion in the common room (and quite a bit of loud arguing between Harry and Seamus Finnigan), they went to bed, yawning, and not exactly looking forward to that year’s first period of DADA.

***

They entered the classroom, and to their surprise, Umbridge actually wasn’t there yet. Harry and (Y/N) shared a confused look, but went to sit down, Harry with Ron, and (Y/N) with Hermione. Eventually though, the professor did arrive, her unnaturally high-pitched voice bringing them all back to reality.

“Good morning, class!” she said cheerfully

There was a quiet murmur among the students, and Umbridge shook her head.

“Good Morning!” she said again, this time more sternly. “I expect you to answer me when spoken to.”

A slightly louder “Good morning professor” could be heard, and though Umbridge didn’t seem too pleased, she decided to move on with the lesson.

“Ordinary Wizarding Levels - OWLs” she started. “Your previous teachers in this subject have all been quite questionable choices, however this year things will be the way they were meant to. Open your books on page 4.”

A few minutes had passed before Hermione raised her hand and said “Professor, there is nothing in here about using defensive spells.”

“Using spells?” Umbridge asked, laughing nastily

“We’re not to use magic?” Ron asked

“You will be learning defensive magic in a safe, risk-free environment”

“But”, said Harry, rather angrily, “what good would that do? If we were attacked that wouldn’t be risk-free!”

“Ha!”, laughed Umbridge, “And who exactly do you think would want to attack a helpless child such as yourself? Besides, the education you will receive will be more than enough for you to pass your OWLs, and that is after all just what school is about.” She finished with a smirk, looking rather satisfied with her speech.

(Y/N), who had sat quietly this whole time shifted slightly in her chair, and exclaimed: “It’s not though!

“Sorry?” Umbridge asked, dumbfounded

“School isn’t solely about receiving good grades! It’s about preparing the students for life, and supplying them with the tools and knowledge necessary in order to succeed and improve. If we’re not going to do that, then why, may I ask, is this a mandatory course? It’s already starting to seem rather pointless to me.”

Harry was perplexed. How his sister always managed to, 1: use her words in such a remarkable way, and 2: remain calm through the most infuriating of situations was a mystery to him, however he turned his gaze back towards Umbridge, waiting for her reply.

“Nonsense” She said. “This course is compulsory, and rightfully so!”

“How though?” Inquired (Y/N), pushing it further than she probably should have. “Can you name any situation, apart from the exam, where your teachings will be of any help to us? Or didn’t the ministry consider that?”

That was the top of the iceberg.

“DETENTION!!” shouted Umbridge. “My office, 8:30 would you be so kind, Ms Potter.”

(Y/N) flinched. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, however detention was not something she had to endure very often. That was more Harry’s thing. She sank quietly back onto her chair, and Umbridge continued with her boring, unnecessary lesson, reciting facts and procedures they had all learnt about 4 years earlier. (Y/N) could feel her brother staring, practically burning a hole in her neck, but somehow, probably thanks to Ron, he kept quiet for the rest of the class.

An hour later, class ended and none of the Gryffindor students wasted any time getting out of Umbridge’s classroom. (Y/N) threw her stuff into her brown, leather bag and dashed out of the room without making eye contact with her brother or friends.

“(Y/N/N)!” Harry shouted. “Wait up!”

He caught up with his sister on the stairs leading down to McGonagall’s classroom.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Looking up at him with an annoyed stare she said “Yes Harry! Just brilliant!” with a sarcastic tone in her voice. She kept on walking, but Harry grabbed her shoulder. A few years ago, they had been roughly the same size, but Harry had grown A LOT, and was by now almost seven inches taller. All the quidditch training had apparently paid off too, and (Y/N) knew instantly that she would never be able to escape his firm, yet gentle grip. He glanced down on her with a worried look on his face.

“I’m serious!” he said. “Stop”

She turned around and faced him. “What?” She spat at him, suddenly noticing her icy voice.

“Sorry…” (Y/N) mumbled, “she just pissed me off. I’m fine.” Her facial expression softened and she met Harry’s eyes for the first time since class ended. He let go of her shoulders, and was just about to say something when a tall ginger came running at full speed and gave (Y/N) a supportive pat on the back.

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed. “(Y/N), did you see the look on her face? Bloody hell, she was angrier than Malfoy after Harry beat him in his first quidditch match!”

“Yes” stated (Y/N) simply, as Hermione made her way down the stairs, “I saw…”

“Oh cheer up!” stated Ron, “an hour or two of detention isn’t the end of the world. If you ask me, it was totally worth it!”

Hermione gave him a disapproving stare as (Y/N) sadly stated, “It might not have been the cleverest thing to do” Both Harry and Hermione blinked at her with a sort of “you-don’t-say?” kind of look as she kept on speaking. “But you must admit that it’s the truth? Defence against the dark arts has never been as important as it is right now. We are all going to die before the end of the year unless we learn and improve?!”

“You’re right.” Hermione muttered, and surprisingly, she smiled slightly. “But we’ll have to talk about that later, otherwise we’ll be late for transfiguration. Come on!”

***

The rest of the day went by rather quickly, and the quartet soon found themselves in front of the fireplace in the common room. It was about 8:20 when (Y/N) stood up, grabbed a jacket, and left for Umbridge’s office.

“Good luck!” Harry said, frowning deeply, “I’ll wait for you here.”

(Y/N) turned around quickly, “Haz, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine. You need your sleep and I have no idea how long this is going to take.”

Harry gave her a sort or irritated look, to which she sighed and left without a word.

“What do you think she’ll have her do?” Hermione questioned.

“I don’t know” Harry hissed, “but I’m sure she’ll tell me when she gets back...”

The remaining three looked at each other. Ron threw Harry a chocolate frog, and then - they waited…

***

*knock knock*

There was a slight clinking noise, like metal on china, followed by a repulsing “come in”. (Y/N) took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

“Ah!” chirped Umbridge, “Potter, sit down, will you?”

(Y/N) apprehensively made her way across the room to the chair her so-called “professor” had pointed at. She sat down and looked around nervously.

“You will be writing some sentences for me today, no” Umbridge said, as (Y/N) reached down to her bag to pick up something to write with. “no, not with your own quill. You’ll be using a rather special one of mine.” She smiled evilly, and pushed a black, pointy feather across the table.

(Y/N) grabbed it carefully and asked in a silent, trembling voice, “what should I write?”

“Oh, right! How about… ‘I must obey my superiors’?”

***

It was about three hours later, when (Y/N) slowly made her way back to the common room, red, hot blood dripping from her left hand leaving a small trail through the corridor. The pain had intensified, and was by this point almost unbearable. She took a quick detour to the girls’ bathroom, hoping to be able to clean herself up a bit before having to face her friends and brother. She had told him to go to sleep, after all, it was almost midnight by now, but she knew him all too well. The odds of him being in bed were absolutely zero.

She watched the thick, red liquid disappear down the sink and let a few tears fall, before grabbing some paper making sure no tears or blood could be seen. She had to make it through the common room up to the dormitories quickly though, since she was sure Harry would be able to tell she’d been crying, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Sure, she could just tell him, but something inside her argued against that. He had been rather angry and distressed all summer, and she knew he wasn’t feeling much better now. Harry had enough to deal with without handling her problems too.

Entering the common room, roughly four seconds had passed before her brother was by her side.

“Hey,” he said gently, “everything okay?”

She nodded and mumbled a quiet. “Yes. ‘m tired though, night Harry”

She walked the stairs up to her dorm, leaving Harry behind. He simply stood there dumbfounded. What had just happened? “Oh… okay, night (Y/N/N)”

She didn’t answer…

***

The following morning, he found her at the breakfast table, slowly digesting a tiny portion of porridge. She was wearing one of his old quidditch jumpers underneath her cloak. He knew, because it was far too big for her, and the sleeves reached down to her fingertips.

“Hey,” he said, ruffling her (Y/H/L), (Y/H/C) hair, “Feeling better?”

“Sure, “ she murmured, slowly pulling the sleeves even further down. He gave her a supportive hug.

“But come on now, “ he urged her. “You can’t be sad forever. What did she have you do?”

“Nothing…”

“(Y/N/N)!”

“Just write some sentences. It was fine, rather dull to be honest with you.” She threw the spoon into the bowl, and pushed it away. “How are you feeling? Any bad dreams?”

“Always…” he muttered, shaking his head at the milk that had splashed out on the table, “could have been worse though.”

Harry made himself some toast, as Ron and Hermione joined them in the great hall.

***

A week or so later Harry had had enough. It was in defence against the dark arts, on a rather cold Tuesday afternoon that he finally snapped, and shouted at professor Umbridge, who seemed almost too happy for a reason to give him detention.

The gang sat, yet again, around the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, when Harry suddenly left and climbed through the portrait hole. He came back a few hours later, a downright furious look on his face, and walked straight up to his sister without even noticing the ghost he had stumbled through. He looked down at her smaller frame, his quidditch jumper yet again pulled over her head.

“Let me see, ” he said through gritted teeth, causing (Y/N) to look up at him, trying her best to act confused.

“Wha…”

“(Y/N) - let. me. see.” he repeated firmly, his emerald eyes penetrating the mental wall behind which she had been trying so hard to hide her troubles.

She closed her eyes and pulled her sleeve up to her elbow. The blood had naturally dried, however five heart wrenching words were etched into her still red, irritated skin.

I must obey my superiors

No one said a thing. (Y/N) was staring at the floor, not daring to meet her brother’s eyes, all while Harry felt madder than he ever had before.

Madder than when Dudley had been pushing him around the school yard.

Madder than when Malfoy had taunted him because of the dementors.

Madder than when he had found out that his aunt and uncle had lied about their parents true fate for almost 10 years.

This was his sister, and it was far from okay.

Without thinking, Harry was just about to shout at her for keeping something like that from him, when he noticed that she was crying. Soft, quiet sobs that she were clearly trying to hide. It felt as if all his anger simply washed away, and he crouched down and took her hand in his.

Harry’s hand was still covered in blood. He hadn’t had time to clean it, but had instead taken the shortest way to the common room, after realizing what had happened. Raising his right hand, he pulled her closer and felt her lean her head on his chest. They sat like that, arms wrapped around each other, for hours and slowly started drifting off to sleep.

Were they okay? Not at all. Would they be? Absolutely! Because they had each other, and when it really came down to it, that was all they needed, as the Potter twins were just like two peas in a pod.

~ L

Masterlist

[alatismeni-theitsa]

(1/2) I know this is some controversial topic and that you sometimes cover US politics, but what do you think the american left needs to improve to reach to more people and be taken more seriously?; It's unbelievable that in the very 2021, apolitical folk are still fallin into the whole "the leftist are a bunch of crazies" narrative, we may do some pushback the last three years against conservative politics.

(2/2)  But it's still not enough; on your personal opinion, what fundamental core value needs to be changed to engage to these apolitical people and that leftist want politics to improve the quality of life of the population without being labeled as a "petulant, whiney children" There's some greek-flavored advice that we can apply to our discourse? Thanks in advance :)

========================== END OF ASK ======================

Ooooo… Great question! And by “great” I mean “Do you want me to go down in flames and get cut a thousand times with pitchforks??” xD But it’s very interesting so I will answer it! And you will be subjected to an essay of 3.200 words 😘💅 (I want to be meticulous, don’t come at me)

Please assume the tone is light and conversational. I am not in a very serious or dramatic mood, and I don’t want to estrange any group by assuming the role of an all knowing tutor or someone who always has the high moral ground. This is just 1am blabbering.

I am not against leftists. On the contrary, I know their side so well that I think I have a solid opinion on its flaws. (I have friends who are left- okay I’ll stop xD) Needless to say, the right side also has flaws and the two sides often share flaws. But right now, we are only talking about the leftists. And of course, #notallleftists xD I recognize that leftists are ordinary and diverse people with empathy and capability of critical thinking and problem-solving (Did I mention I have friends who ar--) Jokes aside, I think my following is quite left leaning and I am not bashing them here. I am criticizing the movement as a whole and trying to see where it can be improved.

***** Anyways, I will generalize the bad traits for the sake of everyone’s time, it’s what I am saying! So, when I say “they” I will probably mean “some” or “the bad apples” etc.  *****

To begin, US leftists don’t want to, but they are accidentally imperialist xD Unfortunately, they don't know much about other countries, and they don’t usually have knowledge of countries they are talking about if they don’t have an immediate connection to them. Not knowing things is fine, but when people on this site are like “ugh Americans” this points to an ignorance and a sort of entitlement that doesn’t occur this often in other countries. My internet cycle is overwhelmingly leftist and yet I continue seeing willingness for ignorance all around - and when I check it’s not by conservatives.

Leftists think their (social and not) politics apply to every country and culture, that people in different countries classify themselves as they do in the US. And when people from those countries talk about their problems, there is always an American that wants to give input based on American politics, and without knowing the situation in this other country they want to talk about. Ironically, the last one is a behavior of conservative politicians. Conservative politicians and citizens sometimes think it’s fine to intervene in other countries for “the greater good”. Well, leftists do the same but on the internet. It stalls conversation and makes it messy and force foreigners to apply to American standards.

Because leftists don't understand social differences between countries, they project their own politics, and that can make them seem obsessed with skin color and blind to cultural diversity. They act like only Americans or certain countries have every lived through colonialism and suffered slaughter and slavery. (Because they don’t feel the need to study and learn further.) To an American that might not be the case, but when Americans converse with foreigners about foreign issues, they seem to have a blind spot.

They act as if only white, cis, straight people can be perpetrators of imperialism. Booyyy I have news xD Yes, of course white, cis, straight people can be perpetrators of imperialism, but the attitude that they are the first to blame, always, it’s faulted. I have many experiences, but let’s start with a very simple one, of an Indian American young woman who thought only a lota can clean you with water in the toilet, and that Europeans haven’t heard of bidets or any other means of cleanliness (or that they have the bathtub RIGHT THERE xD) One of the highlights was a Black woman insisting “Medusa was Black because my grandma told me” despite what Greeks were telling her.

Another thing that stuck with me was the case of a Greek who wanted to write about the people who happen to be a minority in the US (you would call them poc I guess). Many people from those countries were enthusiastic about the project and aided the writer as much as they could, sharing culture and realizing how many things in common they had. But it was from same populations in the US that the writer found people who blamed them for daring to write something outside of their culture. (To explain, most US Americans were fine, but only in the US were some who were hostile). Or, I have seen Chinese Americans being offended by a certain thing (I think it was something about fashion) saying “this is an offense to Chinese culture” meanwhile Chinese people from everywhere else in the world (99% of Chinese, I’d say) said “I don’t understand… this is fine!”

Many US American poc categorize all light skinned Caucasians of the world as White Americans and the rest are the “cultured” Black or Brown people. US Americans are now learning that Slavic cultures exist and it’s… something else to watch leftists realizing light skinned people can have great embroidery and they are not actually stealing Mexican traditional clothing xD (reference to an obscure “calling out” comment on tik tok).

I don’t specifically target US poc here, I am just mentioning that everyone conveniently forgets them as if they are untouchable and never said anything ignorant, while they are as active on social media causes as other Americans. In fact, if most poc are aligned to a side, that would be the Left. They are a very big part of the progressive movement – and that’s why I am giving so much space here for them – but then it seems they can’t have a share of the “bad” things of the leftist movement, only the good. Which is humanly impossible, to be always correct.

That’s one of the problems of leftism, that in a way pardons certain minorities and by doing that it not only lets the problematic bubbles grow but also infantilizes those minorities because it passes the message that “they can never do anything wrong”. While background matters when having an opinion, I see that skin-color goes ridiculously above opinion on these matters, which is not very egalitarian. When I argue with a person, the last thing I see is the person’s skin color. When someone says “ancient Greeks were actually a Black nation ad then they became White” I don’t care how this person looks like. No matter your skin color, you must take responsibility for the misinformation you are spreading. I won’t assume that because someone is a poc that they can’t study and learn more about the matter of discussion.

So… the “issue” doesn’t come from being white, cis, straight etc but from being raised as a US American. I don’t imply by any means that being a US American is bad. The last thing I want to do here is enforce guilt. (If you are feeling guilty already I must be mistaken in my wording so I am sorry for that). I am talking about certain beliefs that come with raised as a US American. Similarly, many beliefs a Greek can have are because of their environment. Everyone is affected by their background in one way or another. 

American leftists believe that even the piss poor British farmers benefited from colonialism – and still benefit perhaps on a systemic scale. So, with the same logic, even the lowest layers of the US American society benefit from imperialism and war crimes overseas. (Truth is the quality of living in the US is great and extremely progressive compared to most of the world, because of the US’ politics. I had analyzed this in a previous post). But American leftists never mention that when it comes to THEIR case, because it doesn’t give them an advantage.

To tie it up with how American leftists see the world, there is youtuber I like, who is a US American woc and one time she said “My country is bombing Brown people” in an annoyed tone and it just sounded so offensive I closed the video. It’s obvious the youtuber doesn’t support the bombing, but it was just the phrasing which left a bitter taste in my mouth the whole day. It was the fact that 1) she could make a statement in an annoyed/joking tone 2) people in those countries don’t identify as “Brown” outside the US (and you are talking about them now) 3) your country is indeed bombing them so maybe at least categorize them as they wish?? They have a certain ethnicity, so mention that and stop categorizing them like dog breeds! They already have the bombs, do you want them to hear Americans categorize them like that?

Moreover, many US leftists think they care about other countries while, in actuality, they don’t. They just want to make other countries have the exact progressive US politics - because that’s the only “correct” political system they know. That shows even in kind of superficial matters. In a movie about Greek mythology, they will make sure there is an American Arab, an American Black person, an American East Asian person etc (which would be a cast that would reflect American diversity, not Mediterranean) and are hesitant to cast Greeks or ask Greeks how the portrayal of the story and figures could be better and respecting.

Another thing, they take everything too personally. They think success and failure of a movement is highly dependent on them as an individual. It’s difficult for them to approach a harsh past or present situation in a levelheaded manner because they don’t realize this situation has been universal. So, they feel a special kind of guilt and that makes them over apologetic but also overzealous (like a righteous self-flogging zealot) and that is what drives people away. They combine that behavior with ignorance about the rest of the world, and you can see why a non-US American might want to keep their distance.

I had some Americans apologizing to me because their ancestors did something to Greeks and just… don’t. I know you have the best intentions, but it makes everyone – even me – feel bad. There is no need for apologizing because 1) you and your family did nothing wrong 2) it was centuries ago 3) this bad shit happens/happened literally everywhere. You might as well apologize for your people knowing how to cook. It’s FINE, really, it’s FINE. For instance, do you think I have a grudge on YOUR people running a slave trade six centuries ago while there was dozen active slavetrades in the area, and while Greeks of the Byzantine empire probably bought slaves some decades before they were sold to slavery themselves? Do you see what a mess this is? Not only it doesn’t fix anything, but you also put unnecessary weight on yourself, as an individual. It’s fine to be aware and trying to fix past mistakes - if it’s possible - but there is a certain delicate process that must be followed. Not… whatever this is.

To continue on the extreme individualism, leftists think it's the end of the world if they have done or said something controversial (and that's also because they have cultivated a culture where any small transgression is a potential danger to the whole society :p aka "the left eats itself"). Around them people feel they must tread on eggshells just in case they phrase a thing wrong or post something that could be linked to a person the Left doesn't like.

The left is also on the extremes, so I have to put 1000 disclaimers every time I say something. (I guarantee that the example with the Chinese people will be translated by some Americans like “Theitsa promotes Asian hate!!”) Do you know who doesn't annoy me if I don't put 1000 disclaimers? Certainly not Conservatives. I had more harassment from leftists than I had from actual nazis, even though my blog is not conservative or (god forbid!!) supportive of nazism or any type of supremacy. Even nazis completely understand my beliefs before they send hate. (It might be odd but I never had one not understanding my point xD) But the leftists who sent hate misinterpret stuff, or they don’t bother reading actual posts. The funny thing is that I usually agree with these progressives in 99% of issues but they don’t care asking or learning, they just decide our morals are opposite. I mean they don’t have to like me, but many leftists don’t even read the basics.

On top of that, leftists rarely want to have a conversation with a conservative. I don't say go and AGREE with a conservative, I say just talk. (see? I feel the need to clarify here because many leftists might say “Theitsa wants us to go and AGREE with conservatives! Does Theitsa want us to become nazis and homophobes???”) How does one feel they have to be sooo righteous and then cauterize every member of society who disagrees with them? Why do leftists rarely want to have a conversation? Some people were ready to attack me for referencing a meme which referenced Steven Crowder, as if that shows I am his supporter 😩 (Guilty by association is strong on the leftist side and it’s very reminiscent of authoritarian tactics, another thing that needs to be improved, to my opinion.)

I don’t support Crowder (I know Crowder has done awful stuff) but I shouldn’t be scared to admit I like the “change my mind” episodes. (Flash news, leftists, you might like a part from a person’s work and not 100% support that person!) I like the episodes because both sides are heard, the conversation is civil (for the most part xD) and I can see the thought process of the two speakers as they explain their worries and what solutions are out there.

Most of all, in those episodes I see how BOTH sides CARE about the SAME problems, it’s just the perspectives that differ. And those conversations highlight the issues the left hasn’t studied very well, so it helps the leftists understand what they need to learn in order to better society. But where the “immaturity“ of the leftist side can show is in the unwillingness to approach the “opponent“ as a human just like them.

(They might instead prefer to call Mexicans white supremacists and claim that “whiteness” has no color because quite a few poc voted Republican, as some leftist news sources have stated)

What is more, is it just my idea or conservatives understand leftists better than leftists understand conservatives? Of course both sides jokes about the other one but I am talking about the serious talks. Leftists just describe conservatives as horrible people who want all minorities to perish and we must not talk to them while, surprisingly, the conservatives are the ones who stereotype less the opposite side. (I am talking about the normal, moderate people). From what I have seen, most simple people who are conservatives DON’T want the US’ ethnic and sexual minorities to perish. They are worried about problems they don’t have a good understanding about. And the only way to make them understand it’s to… talk to them, show them what good the left to offer.

Some leftists think conversation is “emotional labor” but 1) that applies to actual labor as in… jobs, so stop invalidating doctors, nurses, teachers etc, 2) yeah, sorry, sometimes things get difficult and you have to explain your side. (As non US-Americans endlessly have to do for US-Americans). That was, is and will be life until the sun swallows us all. You can’t be THAT militant on social media with 100 posts per day and remembering 50 different campaigns about social issues but the moment someone genuinely asks you for directions on your side you shut them off with “why do you demand labor from me? Do your own research” (hint: most likely they have done their research, but they are stuck, and you don’t help them like this).

If you are very tired and don’t want to explain (as it is your right) you can be polite about it and not blame the individual about their circumstances when they are trying to learn. If you DO want to explain but you get tired, be more organized. Have posts and F.A.Q.s ready, or send them to someone else (a friend, a blog, a youtube channel, an article, whatever). Instead of leftists arguing their positions, sometimes they are like “Do more research and realize I am right.” Yyyeah the other person is not gonna do that – especially because you haven’t pointed them anywhere or supported your position with arguments. Moreover, leftists can have the attitude of “I stand for PROGRESS, how can I ever be wrong??” Weeell things are not black and white and me, you, everyone has the potential to not have a not that beneficial to society position at some issues no matter where we stand on the political compass.

For the “petty whiny children” thing, I believe a lot of people might think that because the youth is usually making noise about progressive issues on social media. It’s true that oftentimes in social media discussions their emotions get the best of them (it’s happened to everyone) but combined with the lack of life experience they may have about the world, the argument sounds silly. (I heard one leftist university student say that the US shouldn’t have borders because borders are bad but then they realized they don’t want people to come and go as they please in the US, so she said there should be SNIPERS in the borders to shot everyone who tries to get in…….)

And, as I mentioned, the leftists are very quick to cancel and attack for the slightest transgression so people prefer to deal with the conservatives who can, at least, take a slight misstep, than meddling with people who are going to cancel them for doing or not doing a small, insignificant, but not ‘woke enough’ thing. Leftists are constantly checking each other to see if they are doing better and better (even in silly issues) and that can be intimidating to someone who is new to politics.

Some leftists get REALLY turned on by righteousness (Frollo villain style) and instead of trying to unite the society, they aim to divide it further. They don’t want to create bridges but burn them and find themselves on the “right side“ of morals.

And, last but not least, they don’t realize leftist propaganda is a thing. Malicious people are EVERYWHERE and they don’t just magically avoid the left. Leftists are not automatically super virtuous people. There are some manipulators and bullies around, so one has to be cautious even with leftist sources. (Cross-examine stuff, always. You might have the best intentions but accidentally share something nonfactual because you trusted a source).

Ok that was all, I think. To anyone who comments, PLEASE keep the tones down, have a conversation, take it slow, remember it doesn’t help us being hateful towards each other. (And causing serious friction wasn’t the purpose of this post). Oh, and if you need a clarification on something I said, before gossiping with your friends about how awful I am, do me the courtesy of first asking me what I meant xD

[sevinss]

I LIVE THEREFOR UPDATE TIME

Yes it is quite late but I will be reblogging this on the morning and the next few days so most of my active followers sees it!

Well first of all. The past 3-4 month was one hell-hole. Loads os assigments to finish, being informed in April that we have to finish our thesis work (i worked in a team) until may 4th not june, completly rewamp and finish the thesis work until may 11th (the principal was nice enough to give us 1 more week). I had a lot of sleepless nights, lot of sketch that i couldn’t finish, lot of anger, sadness i had to hold (since some personal life things also came up). So yeah, mostly why i didn’t post too much is because i was too busy with these.

But it’s over. It’s past may 11th and i submited my team thesis work and we are finished. I learned a lot during this time, both my artstyle and way of doing my work has improved. But i also learned a very painfull yet true thing about myself as an artist

I don’t want to animate nor draw for a living...

Now before any panics (probably not a lot of people XD), let me explain. I do not want to learn graphics, nor character designing nor illustration nor animation as a main job. Working in a team made me realise that im an easly angerable person if things don’t go the way i hoped it would, i forget things easly and i have a roller coaster of a mood waves for drawing. Yet...

Drawing is my passion. It is what kept me alive for this long, it is what helped me find people who dare a lot to me, and those who i lost, and those who i still have and maybe people who also count me dare to themselfs. It is what truly gives me joy, to draw friends characters, or just a random person’s character because i liked the design or my own characters...

So some changes are coming to my life. Drawing will be a hobby for now, not a main direction to build a future myself, it is my joy, but not my future to live a life money and carrier wise but rather to be here, with you guys. Im not a big person, i dont make world changing art, but it warms my heart every time i see a regular person liking my post, heck i dont care if they even like it, if somehow i know they saw it and liked it im happy.

Thats the most important thing i learned. Appriciate what i already have and not what i could. I have you all, small group of friends and regular comebyers who keep my posts somewhat active TwT.

So thank you

As for the future. I dont know. I planned to redraw the Bridge Keeper complitly, since i started it a while ago and i doesnt like how past Sev did the work so i will fix some stuffs. Will i be more active? I dont know... Im planning to learn IT managment since i have a thing for PCs and IT so i could get a job but for now, lets just hope ^w^ Again thank you everyone who patiently waited here for me and was here when i sometimes popped out of the shadow. Hopefully i can repay you all!

Big hugs!

[symphonicscans]

Interview with Hozumi for Sarasate Magazine, 2019

There are next to no interviews with Hozumi, so when I heard about this magazine having one I immediately bought it. Finally got around to translating it, and while it doesn't really talk about much, it's better than nothing! I formatted it to fit the original magazine, but there is also a text transcript as well.

Download the interview in PDF form (or read the transcript below) (I was also really pleased to get my headcannons confirmed XD)

WHO IS SOLLIMA?

Hozumi’s “My Giovanni” was inspired by the piece Violoncelles, Vibrez!

In the story, the main character Tetsuo Tezuka idolizes a cellist named Giovanni Bazzoni, who is modeled after Sollima, and the piece that inspires him is Call of the Cello, which is of course based on Violoncelles, Vibrez!

Giovanni Sollima * Composer, Cellist

Born in 1962 in Palermo, Sicily, Italy, he studied cello with Giovanni Perriera and composition with his father Eliodoro Sollima at the Conservatorio di Musica di Palermo. After graduating with honors, he continued his studies on cello with Antonio Janigro and composition with Milko Kelemen at the University of Music in Stuttgart and the Universität Mozarteum in Salzburg. In 1997, he founded the Giovanni Sollima Band in New York City, a group made up of musicians who were already active as soloists and chamber musicians, with such luminaries as Claudio Abbado, Martha Argerich, and Philip Glass. His compositions are often said to be strongly influenced by minimalist music, but he has established his own style by freely incorporating a variety of genres, including classical, rock, jazz, bop, and ethnic music from the Middle East, the Mediterranean, and Africa.

His most widely recognized work is a ballad for two cellos and string orchestra, titled Violoncelles, Vibrez! (1993), which was dedicated to his close friend Mario Brunello, a fellow student of Janigro. It has been performed by many cello ensembles in Japan, including in an arrangement for eight cellos. His other solo cello piece, Lamantatio (1998), which requires the cellist to sing as well as play, is also frequently performed. He also has written a work for shamisen and orchestra, which was commissioned in Japan. He currently teaches at the Conservatorio di Santa Cecilia in Rome, and the instrument he performs on is a Francesco Ruggeri made in 1679. His first visit to Japan was in 2004 for the “Summer in Tokyo,” where he performed Violoncelles, Vibrez! amongst other pieces.

A Must-Read Comic for Cellists

“Boku no Giovanni”

Writer/Yumi Kogo

Characters

The cast of the comic

Tetsuo Tezuka

A boy who loves the cello. After looking for a fellow cellist to play with, he ends up having mixed feelings about Ikumi’s cello talent. He later goes to study with Yuriko Soga in Italy. After returning to Japan, he enters a competition.

Ikumi Tachibana

The other protagonist of the story. The only survivor of a marine accident, he is taken in by Tetsuo’s family and is introduced to the cello. He grows up to become a emerging cellist in the classical music world.

Tetsuro Tezuka

Tetsuo’s older brother and good friend. He used to play the cello, but became jealous of his brother’s ability and stopped playing. Later he becomes a ‘mental trainer’ for musicians.

Yuriko Soga

A cellist living in Italy, Tetsuo initially refers to her as the ‘witch.’ She has a carefree personality, but she is an internationally famous cellist. She later becomes Tetsuo’s teacher.

Yukari Narita

A student in the piano department in a Music High School. She becomes Tetsuo’s accompanist, introduced to him by Yuriko. She likes his free style of playing and they become fast friends. She brings out the best in Tetsuo.

-

“Boku no Giovanni” is a popular music-themed manga serialized in “Monthly Flowers,” a manga magazine for women published by Shogakukan. There have already been four tankoubon released. The manga depicts the lives of two boys who choose to dedicate their lives to the cello, and it’s become popular not only with women but men as well. The story is different from the usual type that follow music students living happily while competing with each other, instead delicately portraying the struggles of a boy who aspires to find his place in the world of music. It is in this setting that the character modeled after Giovanni Sollima appears, and they play an important role in the story.

The Beginning

Tetsuo Tezuka, an elementary school student who plays the cello in a small port town, feels lonely because his older brother Tetsuro, his only cello-playing friend, has stopped playing. Tetsuro had begun to feel inferior to Tetsuo’s rapid improvement, so decides to distance himself from the cello so he wouldn’t end up hating his younger brother. Unaware of his feelings, Tetsuo repeatedly asks him to play ‘Giovanni Bazzoni’s’ work for two cellos, Call of the Cello with him.

At the same time, a large passenger ship sinks on a stormy sea off the coast of their island; a faint voice in the distance is heard. Ikumi Tachibana, who followed to voice to the beach, loses his mother — his only living relative — in the accident, and is taken in by Tetsuo’s family. There, Ikumi learns that the voice he heard was actually Tetsuo’s cello playing.

World-renowned cellists Sollima and Yo-Yo Ma as models

Tetsuo starts playing the cello at age six. He always asks his older brother to play together with him.

It all started when he saw a video of Call of the Cello by Giovanni Bazzoni, which his father gave him. The character of Bazzoni — who has a great influence on Tetsuo — is modeled on Giovanni Sollima, the cellist and composer, and Call of the Cello is reminiscent of one of Sollima’s masterworks, Violoncelles, Vibrez! The other cellist in the panel, Lesser Curtis, is modeled after Yo-Yo Ma. Tetsuo was fascinated by the ‘shadow dancing’ between the two world-famous cellists and became enraptured with the cello.

***

Ikumi finds out that Tetsuo wants somebody to play cello with, so he can play Call of the Cello with them, so he asks Tetsuo to teach him how to play. Both boys start out lonely, but day by day they grow closer through their connection with the cello, and vow to remain lifelong friends.

The world-famous cello “Witch”

Another person who stands out in this story is the character of Yuriko Soga, a world-famous Japanese cellist living in Italy. Every summer she visits Tetsuo’s house to relax. She has a carefree personality, but her playing is of the highest level. Through Yuriko, Tetsuo realizes how difficult the life of a professional cellist is, but also thinks that he has no talent. As if to fight against this reality, he refers to Yuriko as a “witch” and rejects her as an outsider in his world.

One day, Tetsuo spends a week at his grandfather’s house, and when he returns home he finds that Ikumi has effortlessly learned how to play the Dvorak Cello Concerto, which he is unable to play yet. He becomes angry and jealous of Ikumi’s talent and his ability to play with the ideal sound that he wants for himself, and there are many scenes after this that make the reader turn the pages with a heavy heart; only in comics can you see the mood and atmosphere of a person’s feelings at a glance.

As if to escape from Ikumi, Tetsuo goes to study abroad in Sicily, Italy, where Yuriko lives. Five years later, he returns to Japan only to find that Ikumi’s talent has blossomed. Tetsuo pursues his own unique way of making music, but struggles to find a pianist to accompany him in a competition due to his strange way of playing. Through his connection with Yuriko, Tetsuo is introduced to Yukari Narita, a high school pianist who prefers a free style of playing, and this inspires Tetsuo to search for his own style in earnest. It will be interesting to see how his relationship with Ikumi and his future as a cellist develops in future chapters...

(Caption beneath image: Monthly Flowers March 2019 / featured cover illustration)

Interview with the Author of “My Giovanni”

- Hozumi-san - Discovering Sollima and the Fascination with the Cello

Hozumi-san, the creator of “My Giovanni,” debuted in 2010 with her work The Wedding-Eve, which won the Silver Flower Award at the Monthly Flowers comic audition. She made her published book debut with the same work, which is a collection of short stories of which the title is one. The book won the 4th Pukurog Grand Prix in the manga category, and also placed second in the “Staff Choice: This Manga is Amazing!” It also placed second In the ladies’ comics category. Subsequent works include Sayonara Sorcier, which depicts the life of Vincent Van Gough, and Usemono no Yado.

My Giovanni was inspired by a performance of Sollima’s Violoncelles, Vibrez! The series began in 2016 and is still ongoing. We asked Hozumi-san to talk about her encounter with the cello, its appeal, and how My Giovanni was born.

She first fell in love with the cello through 2CELLOS.

Q: I understand that you have always liked minimalist music. How exactly did you come to know about Sollima?

A: My first exposure to minimalist music was with Michael Nyman’s The Heart Asks Pleasure First, but one day I got hooked on 2CELLOS. I had a CD of cellist and composer Siegen Tokuzawa, but I had never watched a proper cello performance before. When I started listening to 2CELLOS, I became more and more fascinated with the sound of the cello and started listening to serious classical music. That’s when I came across Sollima’s Violoncelles, Vibrez! From that point on, I started buying Sollima’s recordings and playing them while working on manuscripts (laughs). After that, I listened to recordings of Joe Hisaishi, Ryuuchi Sakamoto, and others that had a bit of minimalist elements, but I still find it difficult to listen to completely minimalist music. I prefer works that mix minimalist elements with folk and other styles.

Q: I heard that your encounter with Sollima’s works is what led you to create My Giovanni. What was it about Sollima’s music that appealed to you?

A: More than anything, it’s the drama! Of course there’s a strong element of repetition since it’s minimalist, but after listening to a song I feel a sense of fulfillment, as if I’d watched an entire movie. When I heard it for the first time, I remember being impressed and thinking, “Wow, I’ve found such an amazing piece of music!” I was so impressed. It seemed like all of human life experience was depicted in it, and I racked my brain wondering if and how I could draw a manga like that. I started to draw it, but it still didn’t reach the ideal I have, and I’m still struggling with it (laughs).

Q: Do you have any specific cellists that you modeled the characters of Tetsuo, Ikumi, and Yuriko Soga after?

A: I don’t have anybody specific in mind, because I think the way they perform is related to their personalities, so I wouldn’t want to attach them to a specific cellist. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to use anybody in particular as a model because, for the sake of the story progression, I sometimes have to push through the performance scenes with a more comic-like style…

But I have a feeling that there is a bit of Sollima in all of them. Actually, learning to play the cello has made me realize that more.

Q: Hozumi—san, your drawings of cellists are natural and beautiful. Is there anything you pay attention to when you draw them, or anything you are very particular about?

A: I really appreciate you saying so. But I don’t think I’m quite there yet. I actually started cello classes and tried to play the cello myself, but it’s really difficult to draw not only the instrument itself but also the playing position — and not only for cellists. I will continue to work hard to draw the flow of the skeleton and muscles as realistically as I can.

Q: You said you’re learning to play the cello. What was your impression of the cello when you started playing it?

A: This might not be something to talk about in a classical magazine, but I was in a band for a while when I was in school, so I had a little bit of experience with the electric bass. So, when I started cello, I had the faint hope that I would be a little better than an amateur because it was a string instrument… but (of course) it was completely different. Unlike electric bass and guitar there are no frets, and even just holding the bow is very difficult. It was a struggle for me to make a single note sound good. Since then, when I hear cellists play — which I used to listen to without much thought — now I am in awe of them. When I draw the characters in my work I think, “It’s amazing, they can all play so well.” (Laughs)

Q: What is the appeal of the cello for you?

A: It has a wide range, with high notes that pull at your heartstrings but also deep bass notes. I think it’s great that they can play everything from melody to bass lines, and since I used to play the bass I think it’s really cool to be able to do that! As a manga artist, my motivation for drawing them is to find a way to express the sexiness that cellists exude when playing cello.

Q: What are your favorite songs, both to play and to listen to?

A: I haven’t gotten very far with my playing because I’m too busy with the manuscript, but I often listen to the song Rain by Ryuichi Sakamoto. It’s a trio for piano, violin and cello, and I imagined this song when I was drawing the live performance scene for the same ensemble in the comic. I also like Piazzolla in general, but in particular I often play Duo de Amor when I’m drawing.

I really like to hear the cello played by my teacher.

Q: How much time do you spend practicing the cello? What do you find most difficult when you practice?

A: Actually, I haven’t been able to attend classes since I had a health scare last year, and I’m not able to play as much as I used to. Really, all practicing is difficult, but if I had to pick one thing I’d say that even though my left hand fingering is good, I can’t keep up with the bowing… sorry for being such a beginner…

Q: Is there a moment that made you glad you started playing the cello?

A: I’m really only a novice, so just being able to play a single note with a tight, deep sound is a great feeling. “Amazing! I can make the cello sound like a cello!” That alone makes me very happy. Also, it was really helpful for me to understand how to hold the bow and use proper tilted posture as a reference for drawing, it was really great! I’m also happy just listening to the teacher play so skillfully in front of me.

Q: What color is your case?

A: I haven’t bought a case yet because I’m still at the stage where I’m renting my cello, but I like white ones and the deep red Bordeaux-like color, and in the comic Tetsuo’s case is white and Ikumi’s is Bordeaux.

Q: Like My Giovanni, many of your works feature gentlemen, siblings and their home environments. Are those things you consciously decide to focus on?

A: When I create my stories, I often adapt and build on my own experiences as a teenager, so that might have an influence on my work. However, I think the best part of a story is to leave things to the imagination of the reader rather than explaining everything about how the story came to be. Although there are fragments of my personal memories in some parts, it is undoubtedly the original story of the characters, and I hope you will enjoy reading it until the end.

[having-a-hyperfixate]

Secret Reports

Gonna just edit this thing and put line breaks as I get more of them.

I’m also working on the rest of the completion, and will probably wander off in the middle of this to do Another Day, which will probably have its own post. I fully expect that to be sheer madness. 

#1 So is it just me or is Mr H writing these reports to channel how extremely stressed he is. Cuz like. Mood. *gestures vaguely at blog* *gestures at this post specifically*

I. Hold up. Skeezy McFuckwad and Joshua did what resulting in which now. Excuse me. EXPLAIN!??! Joshua had a sneaky Game running with Skeezy that directly lead to Hazuki ordering Skeezy to destroy Shinjuku??? Is that what I am reading. Or possibly the order was already in the works, and then there was the Game, which ultimately just pushed that forward?? You can’t just say shit like that and not give details ffffffff.

 #2 Mr H having about as much contempt for Shinjuku rules as I do I feel seen haha. Bogus indeed. I can’t remember if I said it in one of my other posts, of if it was in a group chat, but I made a comment somewhere how this ruleset doesn’t seem to work with the stated purpose of the whole Reaper’s Game system. Sweet validation.

 #3 Not much to say except that if I had read this entire report when I actually got it, I would have been much more alarmed by all of the Replays Rindo has to do after that. I got it partway through week 3 but decided not to read it until I beat the game and then BAM it has this lovely tidbit about potentially being able to destroy the UG and RG.

 #4 So, the business that the fandom refers to as the Long Game is known in universe by the higher-ups and Shibuya’s impurification, because it didn’t get ‘purified’ like Shinjuku (I object to that term but ok).

“The hierarchical freeze presumably stems from opposition to the impurification”

Skeezy wasn’t reprimanded when he arrived in Shibuya “possibly because most Higher Plane denizens still oppose Shibuya’s impurification”

ExcUSE ME. I. WHAT. In one of the secret reports for the first game, Mr H says something about the way things turned out be an ‘ideal parallel world’ according to the Angels. I guess he only meant the ones who didn’t want the city destroyed holy shit. That most of them didn’t want Joshua to change his mind and STILL DON’T is so massively fucked up I can’t. Dear Higher Plane, what the actual, ever loving fuck.

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#5 One hundred and four Games under Shiba. That’s… so. many. teams. Holy shit. And the teams we knew had seen at LEAST 30 teams go. And the three teams we saw weren’t small. So many people…

Also, “Minamimoto seems to be plotting something” is the funnies thing I’ve read in ages OF COURSE HE IS that’s what he DOES. XD That was some mood whiplash.

#6 I was so hung up on the lack of entry fee for so long you don’t even know. Like. Those were so important in the first one it was baffling to me that Shinjuku rules didn’t have anything similar. And then eventually I just decided that the whole Game wasn’t being run correctly and Shiba was clearly after something other than driving the improvement that’s supposed to be the point.

I would like more explanation on this ‘Rindo’s stagnation makes him perfect for time travel thing’. I kind of understand how his reactions being consistent would be helpful in being able to control where the timeline goes (also I just realized this further confirms that Angels remember the other timelines glad I wasn’t imagining that the Prime days are a blur), but what does he mean about being able to maintain abnormally high levels of imagination? (It might tell me later so don’t say anything lol)

“I can only hope I’m not overthinking things.” Oh, you aren’t. If I’m understanding everything correctly, Skeezy actually had two proxies. And poor Rindo managed to end up being proxy for both sides at the same time which is. A mess.

 #7 Well, finally we know how Coco managed to get her hands on a taboo sigil. Plagiarism. Lmao. That at least makes sense and I can worry less about her being Something Else. I would like a word with whoever didn’t clean that up from Udagawa long enough for her to copy it though. That’s hilarious. Interesting that Mr H thinks it wasn’t a perfect recreation though, that something in him got changed. Once again, please elaborate. Please. *headdesk* What prompted Coco to just. Copy a taboo sigil though. Cuz that seems. Unusual.

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#8 Ok there’s a lot to unpack in this one. Namely, more Shinjuku rules. I would love to know if these are long standing rules or relatively recent. Cuz like. Did Shinjuku’s Game ever run in a way that would drive the kind of improvement that’s supposed to be the overall goal? Or has it always, or at least for a while now, been basically a meat grinder? The players that don’t clear that minimum bar probably just get erased outright, I would think. Actually, I’m confused. If normally, one team would get to leave and one team would be erased, wouldn’t that normally keep the average pretty level, so the Game would basically go on forever? Otherwise what do you do with all the other teams that are between first and last? I’m confused. It can’t be normal for teams to keep asking for more rounds. And what if the winning team says ‘everyone gets to go home’?

“The Conductor has yet to contact the Composer” and “it is possible he is unaware of the Higher Plane’s purification protocol.” I don’t know why, but I get the feeling these are important.

 #9 These secret reports are really driving at the whole ‘Rindo just goes with it’ thing, aren’t they. Like, that was his thing, right? He has trouble making definitive decisions? So his arc culminates in that moment in Udagawa where he tells Hazuki that he’s going to take the risk and go back one more time, where he’s making that decision purely for his own sake. And here Mr H seems to be saying that prodding Rindo down the road to character growth is going to be a lot harder than it was with Neku back in the day. Which makes sense, I think. Confronting someone with the concept that other people have value is a lot less complicated than trying to get them to not only make a firm decision, but to choose something that is purely because it’s what they want and need, not because someone else thinks they should.

It’s a little alarming that this report implies that if the pin wasn’t absorbing the Dissonance caused by the Replays, the UG and RG would already be having a bad time. Yikes. This is the report for day 2 of the second week. We haven’t even gotten into the crazy time travel yet.

Aaaaand #10 is for completing the social network, so I have to actually go do Another Day. I want to read these in order; it is much less confusing that way.

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#10 I really shouldn’t read these late at night with a possible migraine coming on, they’re already confusing enough. The bits that made sense: Uzuki was acting Conductor damn girl. (Did she have to deal with Joshua and was he in Dignified Mode or Being a Shit Mode because that’s possibly an oof.) I had assumed Shiba was Shinjuku’s Conductor and then just kinda took over after they moved in but apparently not? And RIP the actual Conductor, apparently. Weird that so many Reapers made it but the Conductor, who by all rights should have, didn’t.

I am slightly concerned by the fact that there’s standard procedure for obliterating a district. That’s. Alarming.

I don’t think page 4 is continuing the thought on page 3. Fucking. Stop that. Don’t just say a thing and then start talking about something else I would like EXPLANATIONS. UGH. “Almost” he says. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that almost is a big deal, so why don’t you tell me about it.

Four cases where a district got into trouble before a final decision on whether to reset or not was made. And one was the last game. I wonder if that means whatever was wrong that made Joshua want to destroy it, or if the ‘imbalance’ was all the madness that happened after he agreed to one final Game with Kitaniji and the left the UG. Cuz in one of the first set of secret reports, it says that with the Composer absent, the UG is starting to fall apart as the rules are no longer valid, or something like that. I would definitely call that an imbalance.

 #11 All I care about in this report is that Mr H wants to have a digital art bonding party with Kaie and that is so random why are you writing this down you absolute goober. The first page of this report is like ‘everyone is getting depressed’ and then just a wild left turn into dork-town. Lmao what.

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#12 I don’t think Mr H knows at this point (you get this report for W2D5’s Boss Noise) that the Ruinbringers are all Reapers. He’s gonna be mad. He does know what Shoka is up to though. He’s worried. Aw.

 #13 It didn’t occur to me until this report hit me in the face with it, but they’ve set up a fantastic contrast between the two people Rindo knows from online. One is. not great, let’s say, because I did not take the reveal of Motoi’s true self well. The other is Shoka, and she’s a real friend. I now see what you did there. One relationship that’s a farce and one that really, really isn’t.

 #14 Me, out loud, at 1:30 in the damn a.m.: WAIT. HOLD THE FUCK UP.

If getting Tsugumi out of Mr Mew required an Angel, how in the hell did Shiki manage to…? What. I’m very confused.

Also damn, saving Tsugumi was so important that Shinjuku’s Conductor died for it. Did he know what she could do, the whole visions thing? Or maybe that something was wrong with Shiba and it would take someone like her to potentially stop him in the future?

I still would like to now how the hell Tsugumi got her hands on Mr Mew. Especially since its apparently the ORIGINAL Mr Mew and she seems to have had him during the inversion? What.

 #15 So… Inversions don’t always happen when a region is purified. I’m trying to wrap my brain around what a ‘complete loss of character’ in and area that’s had an Inversion could mean. Like… I think I get it, but my brain won’t make words, let alone sentences. Like when you go into a hotel room, and it doesn’t feel like a home, as opposed to when you go to a friend or family’s house, and it does? Kinda like that but it’s the whole district that’s just… blank? That’s kinda creepy.

If there are so many who think a ‘regular purification’ isn’t enough, the a) what does that even look like, b) is that what Joshua was going to do to Shibuya and c) is there an intermediate step between ‘normal’ and Inversion? I have been staring at this report for literally 15 minutes now.

 #16 “I wonder how [Shiba] will feel about all this after he is allowed to return to his former self.” Yuuuuuup. I still Do Not Like him, but dude was borderline mind controlled so like. Yeah. And I did get to kill him once, so. As long as he minds his business and isn’t a total dick from here on, whatever. It all just sucks.

*facepalm* Well at least we got to being suspicious of Replay eventually. Why did it take you this long Mr H. Though I do wonder what Rindo would have been able to do without the interference. He had to have some kind of latent skill for the pin to react to him, right? I’m now going in circles mentally trying to puzzle out if Replay is like, a leveled up version of whatever Rindo would have naturally had, and regardless, where exactly it came from. Because the only time I can think of when anyone had a chance to mess with the pin was when he didn’t catch it in the prologue. And I’m pretty sure it was Joshua who picked it up. Aaagh I’m giving myself a headache.

I find it hard to believe skeezy would just yeet a random time travel pin out into the world. That seems both dumb as fuck and inefficient.

 #17 “Some of them who know what I am occasionally try to contact me.” Lol so Kariya DOES know who Mr H is, I take it. Alright.

I’m having some kind of emotion that Wildkat still exists in a way for the Reapers, and that some of them still go there.

I just imagined Uzuki texting him like ‘plz make the Composer fucking do something kthx’ and I’ve got the giggles now oh dear

 #18 HA! I was right! Minamimoto WASN’T in control when he attacked us! ‘Distortions within himself’ though, that’s concerning. Does that have to do with how he’s come back from the dead twice now? And how Coco’s copy of the sigil was apparently imperfect?

 #19 I was about to say ‘who would target him for his abilities?’ and then my brain turned back on because duh. Shiba and them were looking hard for Neku, to the point that they flooded the RG with Player Pins in the hopes that he would pick one up and get sucked into the Game. A thing that occurred to me last night at 3:30 in the morning because I am a disaster: Mr H says that Minamimoto ‘seems different’. Neku says much the same thing after he comes back. So… Neku’s ability to Scan all the way down to someone’s Soul is potentially close to as sensitive as Mr H’s long distance ability. Which is a little insane. On top of the fact that he can use basically every psych imaginable no problem, survived a pact with a Composer for a full week, while said Composer was using crazy light beams which probably should have melted Neku from the feedback, and then almost singlehandedly defeated the Conductor while somehow inventing four-way fusion attacks. Kid is mad powerful. And he’s just a human. Like, the OG secret reports say that people always become dramatically stronger when they become Reapers. Reaper!Neku would be unstoppable.

“This would be much simpler if I could sit down and talk with him.” Okay, I laughed out loud. Like, loudly.

So… Shinjuku’s Composer… basically had his Conductor assassinated by skeezy. And because skeezy was messing with Shiba’s head, he could prompt Shiba to take the Reapers to Shibuya afterwards, to start doing it there too? Hazuki ordered Shinjuku’s purification so… Oh dear. I might have a few bones to pick with him.

 OH NO. OOOOOH. OH NOOOO. SHINJUKU’S CONDUCTOR. HE WAS TSUGUMI’S BROTHER OH MY GOD. That is fucking tragic what the fuck. What the FUCK. Okay several things make sense now but OH MY GOD FUCKING HELL I WAS NOT READY FOR THAT. Shiki fixing Mr Mew allowed Tsugumi to free herself because her brother had already done part of the work, I take it? Along with us getting the Noise out of there? No wonder the Conductor stayed, he had to go get his sister… Shit, man.

 …… Did Coco steal Mr Mew and take him to Shinjuku?????

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#21 isn’t very interesting, just a rehash of stuff we already knew.

#22 Okay Haz IS Shinjuku’s Composer. What. Why? I’m. So confused. Why would he intercede on our behalf, and why NOW? He was happy to throw his own city away, but stepped in to stop skeezy in Shibuya? And then tried to put it back together, and when Rindo was miserable he came to try to understand why. And then cajoled Rindo into having a breakthrough in his Character Development to boot.

Mr H says he has an idea why Haz did all this. And then doesn’t fucking say it because OF COURSE. *headdesk* That gets really old really fast, game.

I’m now running through The Last Day’’ to get the final two reports and this entire section with Haz is somehow even more confusing with context. God damn it Nomura.

 #23 Even after he said we were on our on this time, he forced the Soul Pulvis to reform as Pheonix Cantus to make it easier for us to fight? Bro. What. Are all Composers just… walking contradictions? Aiya.

Shoutout to emotional support Joshua at the end there lol. I remember half-hysterically thinking ‘what are you just here for moral support?’ but ok. And I mean, it did work, Neku did manage to do the thing, so. *sigh* Speaking of, it is ABSOLUTELY INSANE that Neku manage to sync with the entire city without his brain melting. Remember at the beginning of the first game when he scans for the first time and has a massive sensory overload? Look at my boy, all grown up.

 #24 Holy shit world building on how exactly people come back to life without everyone freaking out. I never thought I would see the day.

I still have so many questions but that was always going to be the case. The first game had so many things it left open as well. Agh. Time to start wearing new holes in my brain overthinking things.

[namethat-i-oughttohavetoldyou]

deep fic writer asks: 9, 10, 15, 20?

(@cryptidvoidwritings)

9: "What's you writing process like?" Hoo boy. Okay, to be fair: sometimes I actually have enough discipline to make an outline. Sometimes. But mostly I either have a prompt, when I writing something for somebody else, or I give myself a very vague prompt, like "write something for Bustopher" or similar. At that time I might already have a scene or even something written out in my head that I use as springboard, or I brainstorm a little about the atmosphere that I want to get across. Music helps a lot, I am surprisingly good at finding just the right music (mostly instrumental, because words distract me sjdkfsd) for the mood/atmosphere I want. If I can't come up with anything, I either force myself to come up with something (which never works and only results in me having to delete up to 5k words because I wrote myself into a corner) or I take a walk and hope that I'll come up with a scenario/single sentence/scene/dialogue that I can use in some way. For example, I got the idea of having my Demestrap fic take place on a bicycle while riding my bicycle, lol. As soon as I have some sort of an idea or a few pieces of dialogue together, I just start writing and see where I end up, mostly without much of a plan. E.g. while writing my Tuggerstrap and StEx fic, I had a piece of scene and a piece of dialogue, and then I came up with a story to build them in, if that makes sense. This is probably exactly what all the "writer tips" tell you Not to do, but it works for me. And additionally, all my fics are the first draft. As soon as I'm done with something, the only thing I change is grammar and spelling (and maybe parts of sentences that are ugly or unreadable) because if I gave myself the permission to make multiple drafts of anything I write, I would never post it because I would never end up with a version that I'm happy with.

10: "How has writing positively impacted your mental health or overall mood?" Hm, probably in the easiest sense that it proves that I can create something on my own that's decent? I have this ever-present feeling of guilt because I'm not doing "enough" (which is a very unspecified "enough" so I can't really solve this problem :'D) so finishing a fic and people reading it and liking it? Yeah, that boosts the mood a lot, even though the feeling doesn't go away. It's easier to ignore, though. ♥

15: "How do you think your writing as improved over time?" Ahah. Well. I'm not a native English speaker, and I literally learned English through reading fanfiction, so I definitely have improved my grammar, spelling and vocabulary. In the first fic I ever posted (it's still on my AO3... the horror) I still used German quotation rules, because I didn't know there was a difference. You can't see it anymore because I corrected it a year later, but man. I've certainly come a long way. One of the first things I ever wrote I used words where I wasn't even sure what they meant; I had just kind of figured out the meaning through context-reading. Recently, I have improved by being able to write longer scenes. I used to write fics that were like multiple scenes of 800 words of action or dialogue that were interconnected, but I couldn't really figure out how to write transitions, so I just made big separating lines between them and called it a day. XD Now I only do that when I want to. I also have to look up vocabulary less and less, which is a lot easier on my patience and writing stamina.

20: Already answered here! ♥

[mihidecet]

Sbi&CO d&d AU: Don’t Keep me Waiting (2/?)

I’m back! Chapter two is finally here and, as promised, it’s a bit of a beefy one!! I do hope you’ll like it!

A special shoutout to Cassie and my sister, for basically creating the newly added character, and that anon who totally didn’t guess who was coming a week before I posted the chapter xD

The noise inside the tavern hits them like a tidal wave the instant they open the heavy looking oak doors: a cacophony of people talking, friends cheering, music playing and orders being shouted from one side of the room to the other. 

On one hand, it makes Wilbur flinch and recoil, his ears ringing with the sudden switch from being in the quietness of a mostly desert street to this; the good thing is nobody really pays any particular attention to their group entering. They do of course gather some looks and stares - they're a big group after all, most people here are either in small, four-people groups or even smaller. 

But Techno's trademark pink hair is safely hidden under a hood, in order to allow him to walk around without getting constant stares - respectful, fearful or otherwise. They're here to have fun, not pick fights; at least that is what they had decided on before signing up for the tournament. Except for Tommy: to quote the little demon, they were there to win.

Nevertheless. 

Wilbur is there, at that moment, in that tavern, to play and to share his music with a willing audience. So, while most of the others hurry to grab a big enough table and some extra chairs, Wilbur makes his way towards the innkeeper's desk, tail swinging back and forth, mind already running with ideas on what to play for this specific audience - adventurers are a picky sort, they either like your song or they boo you out of the tavern, and he wants to give a good impression especially with the tournament coming up-

The innkeeper sees him and Phil approaching, his eyes darting to his brand new splendidly hand carved guitar - he will never ever ever be able to repay Tubbo - before he lets out a tired sigh. Which comes crashing down onto Wil's mood like an avalanche, covering instantly all his bright ideas and expectations. 

It's Phil's hand on the small of his back that brings him back into focus, prompting him to regain the sway in his step - no time to mope, they're here for at least another month.

"I don't suppose you have a spot open for tonight?" He asks, putting on his best vendor voice, and he can see the tiredness in the eyes of the person in front of him. 

"I do not. You can have half an hour in two days. Name?" The person asks, voice flat with the face of somebody who's had to repeat this process so many times just tonight. So Wilbur swallows down his protest - half an hour in two days is a horrible deal - and nods amicably. 

"Wilbur, Wilbur Soot." The innkeeper looks to be thinking intensely for a moment - a spark of hope shines in his chest as he hopes for a moment that his name will be recognised, since he's spent the past years building up his fame by working tirelessly -, then they shake their head and write down something that vaguely resembles his name next to some numbers. Wilbur smothers the irrational, embarrassing disappointment that threatens to rise in his throat.

"You have my thanks, good sir!" He adds enthusiastically, voice pitched a bit too higher than normal, because a part of him feels for the poor soul who has to deal with people of all sorts, and swivels on his feet.

Phil's hand on his shoulder brings him out of his own mind as he's definitely not storming away from the poor innkeeper's table. He doesn't even need to say anything: Wil deflates instantly, tense shoulders sagging instantly and a long sigh leaving him as he leans into the elf. 

"I really wanted to play." Wilbur grumbles as Phil's hand moves from one shoulder to the other, effectively bringing him into a half-hug and ruffling his hair with a chuckle. 

"I know, and you're going to." The elf replies, tone calm and reassuring, and Wil can't help but ache a little, feeling like a kid all over again and not liking it even a little bit. Once, he would have stayed quiet and stewed into his own brooding mood, but he knows now that he can rely on the others for situations like these. So he ignores how awkward he feels at protesting for something as silly as this, and lets himself pout. 

"Half an hour is so little, though. And since we're not taking any jobs for a while it could help with paying for the tavern." Phil quietly hums in response and experience tells him that he's pondering over a good answer. Wil's eyes scan the tavern - bigger than he first realised - looking for Tubbo's bee, as he figures it's going to be the easiest thing to recognise in the literal sea of adventures of all kinds.

"You know we don't need it. And I'm sure once they hear how good you are, they'll be asking you to play every night." Phil comments, starting to guide him towards what he thinks is the right direction, but Wil is a bit more preoccupied with preening, slightly flustered, due to the compliment. One would expect him to be used to them, but the thing with his friends is that praises from them always feel a little more true, a little more honest, and they always hit him in the best way possible. 

When they join the rest of the team - clustered around a single medium sized table - Wil's mood has significantly improved. 

There's food already waiting for him and as soon as he sits down a fox jumps in his lap and curls up, snout raised towards him to slowly blink at him before he buries his head in his tail. 

Wilbur starts digging into his meal with gusto, lightly scratching behind Fundy's ear as the shifter decides to take a nap.

The tavern is, overall, a nice place. It's cool to see so many adventurers gathered together, and hearthwarming to be able to see many new friendships blossoming. 

After the team announcements that same morning, there are some people that have found themselves needing to look for strangers basing themselves only on names - or worse, nicknames. 

Wilbur figures that the people that are in the best position to find their teammates are those who have been paired with bards, as there have been half a dozen different people performing ever since they sat down to eat. 

Luckily for him, his own team has no such problems. Tubbo, Niki and Fundy, on the other hand, are still waiting to learn who their fourth is going to be. Since the training grounds will soon be open for team practices, starting from the next morning in fact, they plan on looking for them there. 

Tymora, or Lady Luck, has apparently other plans for them.

It's nearing midnight when a short man with only one eye and a thick Draconic accent walks up the stage for what seems like the hundredth time that night. In his hand, the same piece of paper that has been progressively getting more and more ragged as the evening went on. He unfolds it as he walks up, thanking the tired looking bard that is leaving the stage, and it rips in half - his only reaction is a sigh and a shrug.

He squints, putting together the parchment and pursing his lips as the two ripped halves slowly mold back together, then calls out, somehow magically raising his voice over the sound of the tavern's clients talking and clapping for the leaving bard.

"Next up: Quackity! Come up the stage!"

Fundy's fox claws suddenly dig into Wilbur's legs, making him wince in pain and choke on his sip of mead. A split second later, he's got a lap full of disgruntled mage. 

Tubbo, on the other side of the table, is standing on his chair in order to see the stage over a firbolg's shoulders - holding himself up by using Tommy's head, who is extremely unwilling. 

"A bard?!" Fundy exclaims, prompting Wilbur to move his eyes from the stage towards him with a frown.

"What's wrong with bards?!" He asks, helping him get off of him and into his abandoned chair. Before Fundy can find a way to put his rebuttal into coherent words, Wilbur's eyes snap back toward the stage as people are starting to give a quiet, tentative clap for the newcomer.

The kid looks human, probably about Niki's age, and he sits down a bit awkwardly on the stool he brought with himself before plucking a couple of strings on his guitar. They're sitting quite far from the stage, but Wilbur's trained eye still manages to catch the fact that that is an old and well used one - his heart squeezes just a bit at the thought of his former source pride and joy, the guitar he travelled with ever since he left home.

Wilbur knows, viscerally, of the fear that always precedes a performance, especially in front of a new crowd. Especially in front of adventures, whose tastes are ever changing and easy to sway from the crowd's perspective: adventurers either like you, or they don't, and if they don't you're not gonna have a good time.

And yet. 

After checking his guitar, the kid looks up with a bright smile and a confident expression and starts playing - no buildup, no further introduction, no boisterous announcements of his titles or fame. 

And by the gods does he play. 

He's good, but he's not just technically good: he's an entertainer, plays with his guitar as much as he plays with words and with the crowd - clearly making up verses for his songs to fit what happens around him, bantering with the adventurers that step up to his plays of words. Sometimes he bursts out laughing mid verse and despite that his fingers never stop flying over the cords, his laughter becoming part of the song itself. 

Halfway through, he catches Techno's eyes: the shifter raises an eyebrow and Wil simply nods, so Techno nods back

The tiefling is glad to know that they both think he's good, they had been worried about leaving the three newest additions to their team alone with a random stranger. 

And if the enthusiastic way the rest of the team is clapping for him, they're going to get along more than well.

Half an hour later a flushed and visibility sweaty Quackity makes his way down the stage, followed by a thunderous applause and some occasional claps on the back; one passing adventurer even thrusts a pint of ale into his hands, prompting what looks to be a flustered reaction from the bard as he quickly makes his way out of the tavern. 

Either that or he needed some air, which was completely understandable, especially after such an active performance. 

Wilbur is about to comment on the stellar introduction they just received when the sudden noise of hands slamming onto the table - their table - makes him jump in his skin.

"We have to go and say hi!" Declares Tubbo, still standing on the chair - now with Niki helping him not fall to the ground. 

Tommy nods enthusiastically next to him and even Fundy seems to be about to agree. To be quite honest, Wilbur wants to join in too and is therefore about to stand up when Phil raises his hands to get them to slow down. 

"You're gonna scare him if you all corner him outside. How about his three teammates go, on their best behaviour?" The elf concludes, shooting Fundy a pointed look. 

The shifter gapes, looking extremely insulted, then he starts to protest and finally he sighs with a pout. Ah, the wonders of people arguing with Phil. 

"Alright, no pranks and no scamming. Pinky promise." Fundy huffs out, crossing his arms over his chest and slouching down into his chair. Wilbur does his best to chuckle under his breath, because he's not any better, he's just not the target of the reprimand for this time. 

Then, Phil's stare turns to his left. 

"You too, Tubbo. No scams." He states, prompting Tubbo to almost fall over as he agitatedly protests, spluttering out indignantly.

Exiting into the coldness of the night is almost a shock, especially when compared to the almost too warm air inside the tavern.

The sounds coming from inside are almost completely silenced, and when they close the doors behind them the stillness of the night is all they can hear. Fundy shudders for a moment, his body struggling to adapt to the lack of heat, when his instinctive reaction would normally be to morph back into his fox form. He snaps his fingers together, conjuring a small flame in his hands to keep himself warm, and sees Tubbo moving closer to him before he remembers that ah, right, the kid can't see in the dark. 

Still, it's not hard to find their objective - their future friend, as he's already been dubbed by Tubbo. Quackity is leaning on the outside wall, right next to an illuminated window, pint abandoned on his side as he looks at the night sky, one foot tapping on the ground as if following a silent melody. 

In the beginning, the plan had involved Niki leading the way, so that she could introduce the three of them and they could all make arrangements to meet the next morning at the training fields, so that they could all be friends and hang out and win the tournament. 

Said plan is instantly scrapped the instant Tubbo lets out a small gasp, eyes going wide as he hurries to duck around Niki, swiftly avoiding Fundy’s hand reaching out to grab at his shirt. The young human scrambles to reach the sitting bard, who naturally flinches and stares in confusion at the kid running towards him. 

As Tubbo finally gets close, he stops and points at Quackity’s head.

"Hi! You have a moth on your head." 

Fundy’s groan is so loud, it reaches the two of them even though he is currently a couple of steps behind and hiding his face in his hands. Niki’s high pitched giggles follow suit, and are soon joined by a shocked burst of laughter - loud, bright, just like his music - from the human sitting in front of Tubbo. 

"I- Hi! I do?" Quackity asks, voice tilting upwards as he looks up, as if he could be able to see his own head by rolling his eyes into his skull. 

Tubbo giggles seeing him go cross-eyed, and reaches up to gently take the moth in his hand. The little bug’s wings flutter a little as he is moved, apparently not glad to be disturbed from his perch, but he seems to begrudgingly accept his new spot since Tubbo holds him close to the light coming from the tavern’s window. His wings are very pretty, a light grey with black streaks into them that look like the splatters of ink that cover the pages of Tubbo’s various notebooks - his ever growing collection of plans and schematics for new and old projects. According to Tubbo's admittedly limited experience with moths, this one is smaller than one would expect. Very tiny and friendly - "just like you!" Wilbur would probably say if he were there. 

"Aw, look at him! Isn't he cute?" Tubbo coos at his new friend, prompting a slightly awkward chuckle from Quackity as the man moves just slightly away from the insect.

"I'm not a fan of bugs, but, uh- he does look fancy." Q eyes nervously the other two, but Tubbo ignores it, too taken with his new little pal to take care of trivial things like introductions. Niki just smiles warmly and opens her mouth to do so - possibly to also reassure the poor human - , but Tubbo is already speaking again.

"My friend can speak to bugs! He said moths always think of food and light." Quackity is once again seemingly stunned, stuck between the awkwardness of not knowing who the people surrounding him are and the confusion regarding the topic of discussion. He blinks, shooting a look towards the bug in Tubbo's hand before quickly looking away with a light grimace, choosing to focus on Tubbo himself.

"Well, little buddy better not get hurt trying to reach a flame!" Q jokes, letting out a small chuckle. Tubbo's face turns from awed to serious in a split second, his other hand moving to cup around the moth.

"That won't happen, I'll protect him!" He answers determinately, nodding solemnly towards Quackity, who can only gape for a moment before bursting out laughing again, shaking his head a little. 

"So, uh … Is there a reason why you've cornered me, or are you just fans?" He asks after a moment, once his chuckles have died down, turning a raised eyebrow towards Fundy and Niki, still standing a bit awkwardly behind Tubbo. 

"Oh, we are your teammates! We recognised your name and figured we should say hi." Niki explains with a smile, moving to crouch next to Tubbo so that the young human can move the moth closer to her.

"You- oh! Oh! -" Quackity exclaims, eyes widening and suddenly looking at them with less confusion "-That's good to know, what a coincidence!" He comments, chuckling to himself as he wipes a hand over his face, grimacing at the dampness that comes away with it - he really needs to wash up.

"And yet! The gods smile upon us." Niki says with a smile, watching as the moth flutters his wings to move from Tubbo's hand to hers.

Nobody seems to notice the unimpressed look that Quackity shoots towards the night sky, but Tubbo's eyes snap towards him the instant he lets out a deep sigh.

"I guess so. Anyhow. I'm going to pass out on my bed, I'll see you tomorrow morning?" The human asks, tone a sweet mixture of enthusiastic, hopeful and exhausted as he moves away from the wall - his guitar in one hand and the untouched mug of ale in the other. 

Tubbo nods enthusiastically, grinning widely at him; next to him, Niki smiles kindly, while Fundy goes for a much more noncommittal nod of his head.

Quackity's eyes linger on the three of them for just a moment more, as if trying to figure something out, then he nods to himself and raises the mug to mimic a toast in their honour, opening the door to the inside of the tavern.

"Don't keep me waiting!"

[raevenlywrites]

The Ties That Bind 17 of ???

I collapsed languidly into the bath, more thankful than I could say that Elanor had started preparing it when I landed at the Keep. A bath, a change of clothes, and moment to feel like myself was the best welcome home I could have possibly asked for. The only way it might have at all been improved on was if I’d had time to wash my hair. A solid week since we’d left for the Mistari. Maybe more. The days were all starting to blur together, and their accumulated grime clung to me. If only the weight of everything else that had happened in those days could be so easily lifted.

Elanor sat behind me, working scented powders through my hair. The familiarity of the ritual soothed me even more than the heat of the blessedly still warm tub. How many hours had we passed like this, talking and gossiping, her fingers working on my hair or with a needle, her words working on the threads of my thoughts.

“You are a wonder, Elanor. There are no words.”

She laughed and scratched at my scalp, earning her a soft murmur of appreciation.

“I’m still your lady in waiting. And that’s all I’ve doing these past few days. Waiting.”

She said the last with a not so subtle hint in her tone. I joined in her laugh, feeling better about things than I had in days. Talks with Elanor had a way to making everything seem less dire.

“I’m sorry you’ve been kept out of the loop, dear friend. You’re right; there is much to talk about.”

I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath through my nose, trying to gather my thoughts. The soft scents of the water made me sleepy; we’d tried many herbs and flowers of the years in attempts to soothe away my bad dreams. I wondered now if our attempts had only ever succeeded in keeping me asleep, locking me in my nightmares rather than banishing them. I still hadn’t quite come to terms with my apparent sleeping through Zane Cobriana flying madly up to my room those few nights ago.

Nor with my best friend doing said flying.

“I still cant’ believe you snuck Zane up into my room,” I muttered, sinking lower into the bath. “Isn’t that treason or something?”

Elanor’s fingers stilled. I rolled my face up to look at her, shocked to see the dismay on her face.

“Elanor! Elanor, I’m kidding!” I reached to take one of her hands in mine, sloshing water. “Please, it was a joke. I’m not angry. Without you...”

There was no way to know what events might or might not have been set in motion. Perhaps Zane would have been mad enough to scale the Keep walls by hand--or more sensibly, surrender himself like his sister Irene had. I had no doubt Zane would have found a way, so determined he was to end this war. Determined enough to marry himself off to a hawk. My toes curled at the thought. I pushed them aside and focused on my distressed friend.

“We’re all going to have to do drastic things to end this war. Mad things. I’m not angry with you. Just... surprised.”

The look Elanor gave me was so full of grief it took my breath away. It looked so alien on the familiar avian face. It looked too much like Zane, and Adelina, as they’d grieved over the loss of Gregory.

“Dani, you have no idea how scared I was. Zane... he’s very charismatic, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

I nodded, my expression caught between a laugh and a wince. Charismatic seemed an understatement.

“It just all seemed so reasonable, with my aunts’ story of his convalescing in their home, and his words about how you’d tried to work things out at the Mistari, and if he could just see you--“

She cut off, shaking her head. “It feels so stupid now, after the fact. You’re right; it was treasonous. It scares me to know that I could do such a thing. To anyone, let alone to you, Dani. I... I just can’t believe.”

I squeezed her hand, wishing I hadn’t started this conversation while I was in the bath. I wanted to put an arm around her, reassure her that she was still one of my dearest friends. Instead I lay there wet and naked and awkward, wondering how to offer comfort. In times of hurt or grief, I would sing. But to the best of my knowledge, there was no lullaby or ballad for revolutionaries.

“Zane spoke to me of Fate,” I said slowly, trying to see the words before they came out of my mouth. I was going on instinct, and as I’d learned recently, that could sometimes just make things worse.

“He told me Fate brought him to your aunts’ house, and I believe he’s right. Maybe what possessed you wasn’t serpent wiles, but the gears of something larger than any of us.”

I gave up on decorum and decided I wanted out of this tub. “Help me dry off, and let me fill you in on all you’ve missed.” Brightening, I remembered a particular bit of gossip that would certainly lift her mood. “And you can give me some advice on how to proceed with Rei--now that we’ve kissed.”

He girlish squeal was exactly the effect I’d hoped for, and my bubbly, dreamy, daring Elanor was back. I told her of Rei backing me before my mother and all but naming himself my alastair, of the rush and confusion of our first kiss, how badly I wished I hadn’t made such a decision now, with the serpiente en route for peace talks.

“I’m sure that’s what urged his hand,” Elanor said as she did up the laces at my back. Nearly all of my formal gowns had laces for the demi-wings of my third form. “What with Zane galloping in on a big black horse and asking for your hand.”

“He didn’t ask for my hand,” I shot back, already tired of quelling that rumor before it had even properly circulated. “The Mistari suggested it as an option. Zane and I haven’t had a chance to discuss anything else.”

Elanor snorted but I didn’t let her voice whatever goading point she was about to make.

“Did you know he gave that horse to your aunts? His and Adelina’s. ‘For all the trouble’, apparently.”

Elanor gasped. “That’s-- those horses must be worth a fortune! Gods, and probably cost a fortune to upkeep. Do you think he’ll be offended if they sell them?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea?” Slyly, I added, “Why don’t you ask him when he gets here?”

We lost ourselves in giddy laughter, needing the release. It was so good to laugh with Elanor while she dressed me for the assembly. Almost good enough to distract me from my nerves.

Of course, my mother coming in to strategize about said assembly pretty undid it all that in a matter of seconds. - Sitting in my ante room, ignoring the tea that Elanor poured before quietly retreating, my mother and I were getting no where.

“You can’t be mad about this, mother. You’re the one who pulled us from the neutral lands we’d already agreed to meet on. What other options were exactly left for us? You made it clear you wouldn’t tolerate us camping in the woods.”

“Danica-- you know why-- that isn’t the point. The point is what exactly do you plan to do with him now. Here. In the heart of your kingdom?”

I resisted the urge to rub at my temples. Instead, I allowed myself a different breech of decorum: honestly speaking my mind.

“I wish all this had happened after I’d taken the throne.”

My mother sighed and nodded. “Agreed. Things would be so much simpler if Rei was already your alastair. Then maybe the Disa might have suggested something useful--or at least something less offensive.” It was my turn to sigh.

“Mother, Zane is a perfectly fine gentlemen--“

“He’s a serpent--“

“Who has not once raised a hand against me. Do you understand that, mother? The sheer number of times he could have ended my life by now--“

“That is hardly reassuring, Shardae.”

I grit my teeth. What I wanted to do was scream. What I did was take another careful breath.

“I need you to back me on this, mother. We need to present a united front, one that is in control and unafraid. If we’re seen to flinch around the serpiente, this will never work. The citizenry will panic and the Keep will be bathed in blood in a matter of moments.”

It was one of our most sacred tennets that blood never be spilled within the Keep. Even meat was prepared off the grounds and brought in, to keep the heart of our kingdom free of death. It was at the foundation of our wards, and utterly unthinkable that anyone would dare break the taboo within its walls.

Just as unthinkable as a cobra marrying a hawk.

My mother straightened, and I could almost see her pulling her reserve back into place around herself.

“Of course. We will do whatever it takes to keep our halls secure.”

Hardly a reassuring phrasing, but it would have to do.

“So. What are your plans for introducing this visiting dignitary to your court?”

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty @writing-with-melon @rainydaydarling @faithfire

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

No one has complained yet so yall gonna keep getting tagged :P

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @theramwrites @writinginslowmotion @raenawrites @apollon-arium @anika-writes @faithfire @thehellinsideyourhead @adventuresofacreesty