#i cannot write dialog oh my god

[beautyyandthebeatt]

omg i really love your works!!! can u write smth about maybbee stepsis haseul whos just figuring out shes into girls and u help her out 🤔🤔🤔🤔 need her so bad….

also non g!p if possible :ppp take ur time^_^

MEN DO NOT INTERACT, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

so so sorry this took so long! I've been very busy

!!: Stepcest, scissoring, masturbation, maybe dom!reader ?

It had been a few months since you had met Haseul, both of your parents introducing you two at your mother’s home. She stood by her fathers side, slight and lovely, a wonderfully pleasant smile adorning her face when greeting you and welcoming you into her family. You liked her, very much, as did she. Though, perhaps she may have liked you a bit too much.

She often found herself admiring you. Her eyes dancing along your pretty facial features, down your nape to your body, tracing along the dips and curves of your frame. She never took issue with it, of course, she’s just admiring her gorgeous step sister, how could she not ? There’s nothing strange about that, it’s not as if she likes you. It’s not as if she likes women… right ? oh.

Oftentimes, late at night when she was certain that everyone had retired to bed she would touch herself to the stills of the mental images she had saved from her moments of admiring you. Covering her mouth to suppress her soft moans, her poor mind wracked with guilt and arousal. She made an attempt to stop, at least that’s what she tells herself, but her visions of you would always win her over, her hand dipping between her thighs once again. Her fingers desperately circling over her clit, slick coating her middle and ring fingers as she chases and inevitably loses her orgasm. it had been like this since she had started, the rise and lack of fall, she knew that only you could finally give her what she so desperately wants.

One night you decide to stay up later than usual to finish an extra chapter of the book you had been reading. Settling into your bed, room silent, dimly lit by a lone lamp you pick up where you left off before being startled out of your focus by a noise coming from your step sister’s room. A whine echoes into the hallway and seeps into your quiet room, a pang of worry flashes across your mind. Was she hurt ? What happened to her ? 

Without hesitation you abandon your room and beeline straight to her door, entering without warning. And there she was, your dear step sister, laying there face down on her bed, fingers deep in her wet cunt. Her eyes snap open and she scrambles to compose herself. You can't tear your eyes away from her despite knowing that you should, she was too beautiful. The way her usually impeccably styled hair had become loose and messy, spilled beautifully across her sheets. The way her skin glistened with a thin coat of sweat. Oh, and how perfect she looked coming undone, a rose flush glowing across her cheeks, eyelids heavy and fingers buried within herself.

You return to reality “I’m- I’m sorry… I should’ve knocked” is all you can think of to say, hastily turning to leave “wait… y/n, please, don’t go.” she whines, poor girl was in such a haze she couldn’t stop herself from trying to get what she had been aching for. “Haseul..” “I feel so strange, I- I can’t stop thinking about…girls” she pauses “I can’t stop thinking about you.” And that’s all that it took for you to crash your lips against hers, so fervourish, you felt like collapsing into her. The hand that had once been between her thighs pulls you in by the waist as close as she can hold you, the other wrapped around your upper back, embracing you as if you were about to slip through her fingers. Parting your lips from hers you pepper kisses along her neck “Oh, you poor thing. You need my help, don’t you ?” you look up from her neck to meet her gaze, she nods weakly, her eyes heavy and her face flushed. 

With the confirmation you slide your panties down, putting them aside then trailing your hands down her thighs, they shake slightly as you do. Once your hands meet her inner thighs you part them, revealing her glistening cunt to you “So pretty, Seulie.” you’re met with a whine in response. Settling between her legs you press a soft kiss on the side of her face before hiking one of her legs over yours, slotting the both of you together. You moan, soft and airy, at the sudden contact, feeling her wetness coat your already dampening core as you press against her harder. You hear a broken whine escape her lips as you drag your now soaked cunt against hers, her clit catching perfectly against your own. “y/n..” she says, drearily your gaze meets hers, she leans over and catches your wrist, taking it up to her plush lips and sliding one of your fingers into her mouth, moaning around it. She looks so pretty like that, you think, falling apart for you.

The way that your step sister’s cunt rocked against yours was heavenly, her hips stutter often from the new sensation, making her bump against your clit deliciously. You moan, loud, it’s music to her ears, to think that she's making you feel this way, it makes her grind against you quicker, so in love with the knowledge that she’ll finally be able to achieve the orgasm she had been chasing for so long with her step sister. You feel your release creeping up on you, that telltale knot forming in your core, the feeling of Haseul’s quickening thrusts becoming more and more overwhelming. It made you match her pace, hips hungrily bucking into her soaked core, both of your slick coating eachother’s thighs and threatening to paint her cotton bedsheets. “Please, so close-” she attempts to say instead tumbling into a whiney moan and gripping at your back, drawing hot red lines down it. Then you felt it, your orgasm bursting from your core and fluttering across your body, like a warm glow. You knew that she had came too from how her still bucking hips fucked both of your cum across eachother lower halfs.With trembling thighs still tangled together you pull her into an embrace.

You had not thought that this is how your night was to end, wrapped up in your step sister’s arms in her (very used) bed, though, you didn't mind, not at all. “I love you” she says “I love you too.”

[taranida]

What exactly happened in the 70’s

I’ll start with The Poet and The Muse. I’ve written about the real Thomas Zane being a poet already, but left out this piece of evidence (not at all on purpose, truth be told), but I want to discuss it here, since it goes well with the point I want to make.

In the song we learn the story of a Poet living happily with his Muse and telling her stories about treasures beneath the waves. Then one morning the Muse goes to the lake and drowns. The Poet at some point realises that something happened and comes to the lake, calling for the Muse, but to no avail. Whole day spent in search, and in his desperation, he swears to bring his love back. He writes a story and succeeds to some degree. The husk of the Muse comes to him in the night, possessed by some dark force. The Poet takes her in, but in trying to fix his mistake, vows them both to silence beneath the lake. The story concluded with the peculiar:

Now if its real or just a dream One mystery remains For it is said on moonless nights They may still haunt this place

Now, what exactly the boys of the Old Gods of Asgard are hinting at here (aside from the existence of the Dark and Bright Presences) I can’t tell for sure: they might just toy with all those who have that buzzing question of “who wrote whom”, but I will treat the story of Thomas Zane the Poet as a true story, that happened without any help of tortured writers. Although I will use the manuscripts as well as every other source of information.

Prepare for a long read, since firstly, I would like to present all the bits and pieces that I’ve managed to collect, and then tie them all up in a version of events, I believe, happened in July 1970.

First, the dialogs.

Tor and Odin (whom I cannot stop lovingly call “the boys”) say this:

“Tom’s just lost, is all. Baba Yaga got to him too, the damn witch!” “She used us all, taken from all of us. Took my thunder, the witch.” “And my ravens, what was...what were they? Memory and Thought! The hag.” “She took something from you too, didn’t she? That’s what she does.” “Oh, we’re better off. This place, the lake, it gives you power. If you’re a creator.... An artist, a god!” “Nightmares shifted in their sleep in the darkness of the lake...” “Heh heh, yeah, that’s the one. She makes sure it comes out twisted and wrong. Just ask the Lamp Lady. She knows what happened to that other writer.”

 Cynthia Weaver tells us:

“I knew them both. Tom and Barbara. I had such a crush on him...such a beautiful man. I was jealous. There was a part of me that was maybe a little glad when she had the accident. And then Tom started writing and woke the darkness up.... He tried to bring her back...but you can’t do that. There are no free rides like that.” […] “The witch looked like her, but it wasn’t. Barbara was sweet. He didn’t understand until it was too late. He tried to undo it, wrote himself, her, everything he’d ever written out of the world.”

We have Samantha’s dream in “This House of Dreams”, that gives us even more details:

“The diver told me that a dark presence had taken over his girlfriend (the woman in the photos). He’d tried everything he could think of to banish it from her, but everything had failed. In the end, he finally understood what he had to do, finally understood the true nature of the dark place that was hidden under the waves of the lake where they lived. The lake was an opening to dark place that was much bigger than the lake itself, in fact, much bigger than the whole universe we live in. He wrote one last poem, his masterpiece, a secret poem, a hidden poem, a poem that’s not among the poems I’ve found in the shoebox. And he took his girlfriend for one last dive. Together they sank down into the depths, far deeper than he had ever dived before.”

Then we have the manuscripts, that expand on the story:

More so, we have the dates and newspaper articles:

The last one is cut awkwardly, but, really, all I needed from it are the dates of publishing and of the seismic activity.

So, what really happened during this week? On the morning of 10th July Barbara went for a swim and drowned. As Cynthia notes in her article, Barbara was quite a swimmer and her death does seem odd. At the same time, we have another article (that I will put in the very end for those who are curious) about a writer visiting the area and encountering Taken — Robert “The Colonel” Hambleton dated 6th July 1970. Thomas even makes a snarky remark about not ever hearing about him and calling him “an uninvited guest”. All hints that with all the artists in the area: the boys of Old Gods of Asgard, Thomas Zane, Cynthia Weaver and Barbara Jagger, the Dark Presence still pounces on every other creator unfortunate enough to choose Bright Falls as a place to visit. Might’ve been because it could not make the gang mentioned above do its bidding?

The Dark Presence might be of a very different mind, alien to humans, but it’s cunning. As stated in one of the manuscripts, when it senses Alan, “all he'd need was a little incentive.” For Alan it had to drag Alice to the pier and into the lake; for Thomas it might’ve used the help of its ravens or some other means necessary to overwhelm Barbara long enough for her to drown, as at the time the Dark Presence had no physical body (but there might’ve been some other Taken swimmer around). And after Thomas spent the whole day searching for his lover, succumbing to desperation more and more, he got that incentive, the Dark Presence needed.

In the night Thomas wrote a poem to bring Jagger back. The Dark Presence plan worked and it was now in the world, almost free, wearing Barbara’s skin. But it was still constrained by the story Thomas wrote, and in his story he surely wrote something along the lines of them being together and in love again, therefore we see that the Dark Presence cannot do anything to Thomas as he ties it to the chair, carves its heart out and writes countless pieces to undo his mistake. It just couldn’t get out of the role of the loving Barbara, who would never hurt Zane. It had to go through the story in which, probably, Thomas and Barbara lived happily ever after and died on the same day, to be completely free. Which doesn’t mean that the very, pardon, presence of the Dark Presence in the world was not affecting Bright Falls at the time, the Taken might’ve been multiplying and awful things happening during this week. Yet, unlike Alan, Thomas didn’t go into the woods, fighting for his life, he searched for a solution at the cabin, armed with his typewriter and the (kitchen) knife.

The only solution he found in the end — one last dive. To bring this darkness back to where it came from.

There are still a few mysteries left:

in the guide for the first game we can read excerpts from the book “Taken by the Dark Presence” found in a shoebox that has no author, but has initials of T.Z. and J.Z. on some pages, apparently written in the late 1960’s. And, oh boy, I have lots of questions for this one!

the Bird Leg Cabin and the Diver’s Isle, that might or might not been retroactively removed by the eruption under the Cauldron Lake.

the extent of Thomas’ writing powers, since as much as it is stressed a lot that he wrote himself out of reality, Barry, with a little research, is still able to find out about his existence, yet Alan in one of the “Writer in the Cabin” TV’s claims “A story is a beast with a life of its own. You can create it, shape it, but as the story grows, it starts wanting things of its own. Change one thing, and you set off a chain reaction of events that spreads through the whole thing.” The chain reaction here never happens: we have hard evidence that both Thomas and Barbara existed.

But those are theories for another day. This is already a long enough read to throw those into the mix.

And here’s the article about Robert “The Colonel” Hambleton (spoiler alert: there is another one, confirming that he died):

[starlazergazer]

Hii!! I’m the anon who asked if u had an ao3, and I’m sooo glad I can have all your fics in one PDF thank u so much 🙏 I can quickly pressed the download button so fast. youre genuinely one of my fav anakin fic writers in the entire galaxy (far far away). Your writing is so so gorgeous and complex, and it just feels soooo real—how each person has their own depth—so much thought is put into every word and how it’s framed.

I just read your latest fic, Separated, and my god I SOBBED. It was SO good. I was listening to sad songs too, to get more into the mood, and it made me cry even harder. My heart just dropped out of my body when Reader and Anakin were saying their last words towards each other through the call: they were so emotionally close but so physically far from each other. How they were imagining a different life where everything was more softer and happier, that living handle their souls more gently, when in reality one was killing her, and the other was walking towards a path of destruction? AARAAGGH IM GOING CRAZY WITH YOUR WRITING (COMPLIMENT). I can’t wait to see the second part and how you plan to execute the follow up.

Btw. Do you have any tips on how you can finish writing stories? You write so much and it’s all such high quality. How do you do it? I have so many ideas but I never actually commit to it. I have this idea where Reader is also on par with Anakin’s skills as a mechanic except she gets extreme motion sickness, which I think would be so funny considering she’s good at building ships but not flying them.

(I really hope you’re okay with me posting this I know your first message was sent anonymously so I wasn’t sure but if you’re not definitely just let me know and I’ll get rid of it) but Oh my god I sobbed reading this 😭. Genuinely this is the biggest compliment I’ve ever received and it means so much to me I’m positively overflowing right now and a little upset I cannot find the words to properly express how much this means to me. I already go back through some of the messages Ive received periodically as a little pick-me-up but I already know this one will be revisited weekly it just means so much to me the way you’ve picked up on everything I’ve tried so hard to do well in my writing making the dialog and situations and characters feel real and complex and messy ugghhhhh I love you so much this means the world 🫶🏻

As far as writing tips for finishing stories I have many cause it’s definitely something I struggle with all the time lol! I’d say the biggest thing for me is to focus on just getting something down rather than finishing a certain work. At any one time I have four or five word documents open on my computer because I’m regularly only writing a scene or a piece of dialog or literally just an idea. A lot of the time I get halfway through something and decide I hate it but keep it there anyways. What usually ends up happening though is I take ideas or scenes from all the different pieces and drop them into my “main story” if I think they fit well so it all works out in the end but just writing (even if it’s not related even remotely to what you feel like you “should” write) is ultimately what’s important.

I also regularly skip around when I’m writing. I find I like writing the big plot points or bits of dialogue the most so a lot of the time I write those first then fill in the gaps later. Finishing a story is a lot less daunting when you already have all of the big pieces in place and just need a few tiny bridges to bring everything together.

Lastly I would say again just get something down on the paper. I’ve written a lot of really bad stuff lol and sometimes I can feel it while I’m writing it and there’s a part of me that wants to just delete it and start over but having the ideas down on the page is always 100% better than having nothing and editing the crap out of what you already have is way easier than starting over from scratch.

Anyways that’s probably way more than what you wanted lol but I really hope it helps! I think just remember this is supposed to be fun, if you’re getting frustration or exasperation out of it more than anything totally feel free to take a step back. I’m known to go MIA for months at a time cause I have periods where I just am not feeling it and forcing myself through it does nothing for anyone.

Seriously though thank you thank you thank you I’m so absolutely overjoyed that you like my writing enough to want to keep it in any form it means the absolute world to me! Also good luck with your potential fic! Tag me if/when you finish it! I’ve been wanting to do a mechanic reader fic forever but never gotten far enough into actually planning it out to start writing anything so I’d love to see your take on it

[dam-peace]

Apologies for my very long rant. I have alot to say unfortunately.

So I just read the new teasers for both V.V and A.B.O and holy smokes were they good. I loved your writing before don't get me wrong. It took me by surprise and God's was it very... descriptive lol but I loved it!! And I still do.

I tried every variation of the replies MC could've given and they are all so unique personality wise that I know you put so much work into it. Some dialog made me legit 🤭 I loved how humorous and also deadpan it can be.

Also thank you for adding more available for all gender ROs to V.V not that it's a criticism for A.B.O just as someone that usually romances as a MLM it's just super awkward even fictionally to romance a female RO when you simply just can't relate? When you are romancing the opposite gender. I hope that makes sense. And then on A.B.O I appreciate the secret RO then being a MLM romancer only. Tho with my luck it's gonna end up being a villain 🤣

What else was there... oh when it comes to A.B.O am I right in saying Hex and ghost aren't romancable character? They didn't have any MC romance related info in their details.

Lastly I know this has been a long time in the making and honestly you are a very talented writer. I hope you do realize that when things get a bit much writing wise. I cannot wait to read the demo when you release it and I truly hope you get so much more recognition because your work speaks for itself. You havw a major fan in me. 😇

Have a good evening/ whatever time of the day you end up reading this. ♥️

First of all your "rambling" was incredibly sweet and certainly brought a smile to my face. So please don't apologise and thank you so much for your kind words, it just warms my little heart🥹🩷

Also, I'm happy that I was able to broaden my horizons and give players more access to each RO. And in your case that would be MLM RO's so I'm incredibly happy about that, representation is a really big thing for me. And I'd hate to leave certain groups out of the whole gaming process if I can help it. (Also, the secret M RO couldn't possibly be a villain 😂.....or could be? 😳🫢👀)

And yes you're correct, Hex and Ghost are not RO's they were never designed with that in mind. Which will become evident later on, when it's shown in game that Hex is actually 14 and Ghost is 13. Whilst the MC is 16, as well as the other RO's. Apart from Zero and Viper who are 17, so that's a definite no.

And once again, thank you SO much for sending this message in. Like seriously I almost teared up reading this and I'm very much not a crier. Things have been piling on top of me lately, so it's really nice to have words of encouragement every now and then.

Thank you so much for enjoying my work, for your continued support and just simply by taking notice of a little writer like me. Love you, and have a GREAT day/evening 🩷🩷🩷

[msookyspooky]

OH. MY. GOD.

i just finished terrible trilogy AND OH MY GOD set me up, sequels suck and terrible trilogy are SO FUCKING GOOD???? you got me hooked on every fucking word !! a fanfic has NEVER done that to me before !! i had to literally drag myself away from my computer and stop myself from clicking on the next chapter because i had things to do !! i mean hell my exams start a few days from now and for the last couple of days all i could think about was ur fic !! couldnt do anything other than read it and have it consume my brain!! i have so many thoughts and so many more things to say about this but ill have to wait till my exams are over and when they are rest assured i will be making a huge post about all of it !!! when i finished terrible trilogy i had to stop myself from starting four’s a franchise!!! i just i cant ur writing is so SO SO good it makes me go insane !!! and the way ur reader is so realistic!! like still emotional and a wreck but still strong, badass and strong-willed !! shes stronger than me FOR SURE cause after stu being a wet sad dog in the last chapter of terrible trilogy i wouldve taken him in but that’s probably why shes the final girl and im not

okay enough rambling i need to save my thoughts for that one huge post ill be making after exams

AAWWW STAHP YOU ARE SO SWEET FOR WRITING THIS OUT 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 I HAD THE BIGGEST SMILE WHILE READING THIS JUST-

OMFG ILY SM FOR WRITING THIS BC I NEED IT. LIKE, I PHYSICALLY NEED TO HEAR I DID A GOOD JOB BC I AM REALLY STRUGGLING WITH THESE LAST 2 OR 3 CHAPTERS OF FOURS A FRANCHISE BEFORE 5 GETS STARTED 😭😭😭🥺💘💝😤

I cannot!!! I'm so appreciative you like my writing because right now the dialog in the latest chapter of faf isn't hitting and I'm about to post it anyways so thank you for the lil confidence boost 💘🥺

Terrible Trilogy I wrote in both the worst and best year of my life idk how to describe it and looking back chapters really reflect that bc how YN felt at times, that hopelessness, is how I felt. Yet at times the way they all were joking and reminiscing on a happier time was also a mood in 22-23 when I wrote it.

But fr YN's emotional state was easy for me to write but irl I would've either gave up sooner or fell for Stu's manipulative ass ways! 🥲😃 Like, you love me??? Well that changes everything! C'mere pathetic wet dog boy you have a home now. (The dog bites and killed the neighbors 💖)

I hope your exams go well!! And when you do read Fours a Franchise I hope it's worth it it's angst filled but I promise you all 5 gets much better with a time skip 😭🖤

[kisscara]

leave me in the past, wanderer. (can i not love you forever?)

contains: scara x gn!reader, angst, tweaking with canon genshin for this 💀, irminsul mentions, you appear in his dream, reader and scara implied to have been in a relationship before his irminsul deletion, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH SNEAK???, nahida appearance !!!, "scara" in purple and wanderer in blue, changed dialog format again lol

notes: i listened to voca songs while making this. 39 music specifically (as of rn lol), so yeah i was happy but writing sadly, fellow anons rate this prompt (not my best work sadly..) - i wanna hear opinions and roasts., I GOT INSULTED (not really) BY MY FRIEND WHO LIKES BL SHIPS/SHIT LIKE KAZUSCARA ND ZHONGCHI OMG.

ever since scaramouche tampered with irminsul to rid teyvat of himself, he's been in some peace. he's been cleared of some of his burdens from his previous life and identity, yet he can't shake the feeling that something is missing from him.

as the wanderer, he can rest without thinking about if theres someone plotting his death... a very common occurrence when he was still the balladeer. without you, he may have been cut short of his "godly reign":, of a many samsaras.

he doesn't want to stay in the past. why would he? he could start over as wanderer and lead a much more blissful life than his last; but that doesn't mean he's complete yet, not without you.

wanderer... why are you thinking of me? you don't need me anymore.

"w-..what? who are you?"

[name]. i am name, your ???

"[name]... where have you been?"

you are wanderer now, my old master. tell me — are you still stuck in the past?

"no.. no i'm not. if anything, i'd refuse my past."

exactly. if that had been the case, why is it that you yearn my presence?

"what? i... i don't."

you're lying, wanderer...

...

"huh. so it was you, [name].."

"ah, wanderer! hello there. what have you been doing as of late?"

"e-ehem... can i ask of a favor, dendro archon?"

-

"mm... i'm afraid that isn't possible, wanderer. i can't bring back this [name] person because you want me to."

"oh..."

...

...wanderer. stop it. stop thinking of me.

"[name]?"

you... please. i beg you, stop it. you're hurting me too.

"me? what am i doing? can i help you with your pain, [name]? look, i know that i hadn't been the best when i'd last seen you... but let me help-"

don't you get it? leave me in the past, wanderer. all of this... they are distant thoughts. i, am a distant thought. you're a new person now, you... i cannot help and you can't. i'm gone.

"[name]. please... is this the last time I'll see you?"

of course not. theres maybe a million files and photos of me, this won't be the last time you see me — but the last time you talk to the real me.

"can... can i not love you forever...?"

oh? eternity wasn't something i thought you'd look for... but no. you can't love me. it simply isn't possible. if the person you loved was dead, how could you love them forever?

"i care for you, so let me love you (as i'm laying on your chest) until you leave."

...

you left. you left your ??? alone in teyvat; all by himself (ANYMOREEEEEEEEEOOOHHHHH), unable to go back. he is not a former shell of himself, much the opposite.

he has no heart; his creator didn't give him one (hey ei kinnies, shoutout to lume). the wanderer didn't get to say goodbye to anyone he'd lost.

he shut you out before being made into a god — one unworthy of your worship and love, undeserving of your life and presence.

rawr what do we thiiiink -still with you anon

my tears are certainly tasty if that's what you want to know

[phantom-does-a-thing]

🤡✅✍ for ask!! :D

🤡 What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh?

oho I don't even have to look for this one I know EXACTLY a scene

He knocked loudly on the door, politely resisting the urge to just open the door.  That was apparently rude to do.  So he waited for Vyncent to respond, rocking back and forth on his feet and gently shifting the egg from hand to hand.

There was the sound of shuffling and a loud thump coming from the other side of the door followed by a long stretch of silence.  Dakota was just about to knock once more, his eyebrows furrowed slightly when Vyncent yanked the door open with too much force than necessary.  When he looked down at Dakota and William, his face was slightly flushed and he looked embarrassed, rubbing his elbow.

From This fic

it literally makes me laugh every single time I think about it tbh like oh my god it's so funny. Vyncent hardcore wiped out they knocked on his door and it startled him and when he tried to get up he face planted right on the floor. And it's so funny. Sky mentions it anytime I say that I almost wiped out trying to get out of bed.

That was the most important part of that entire fic, you don't need to read anything else, just need to know that Vyn hardcore wiped out.

✅ What’s something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don’t mean to?

HMM that's a good question... The phrase "God forsaken" is something I feel like I use a LOT because I'm just so obsessed with that phrase. I genuinely cannot think of anything else besides like tropes because I write a lot of like playing w hair or soft comfort like that.

An excessive amount of dialog tags and split up dialog because I like splitting dialogue with actions so I unintentionally make things longer than they need to me LOL.

✍ Do you have a beta reader?

no!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I free ball EVERYTHING and I do not plan on getting one. You get half edited 3am fics on like six hours of sleep and barely enough attention span to get through a few sentences. I run my fics through grammarly once, don't even read over it until the day after it's posted and we GOOD. It's the Phantom code, I write it and post.

I could also never be patient enough for a beta reader (and I am also way too shy to criticism haha... you'd think I'd be good at it... considering how long I've been writing aha). I like to write my stuff n post it so that it gets out of my head and it's no longer my responsibility. It's like shaking out the last bit of water from a bucket n going "not my problem no more!"

ask game

[katerinaaqu]

Oh my goodness yet another amazing review and insight of you! You continue making my day!

Hehehe yeah I did consider that since we speak so to use the Odyssey as a basic theme but of course dialogs often need to be modified to fit the era we talk about (one form of artistic liberties I personally like. Although that too imo needs to be carefully made so that it fits the time it talks about still. I am glad you liked the way it was done) Hehehehe well that is a common phrase in modern Greek hahahahaha 😆 at least in literature.

Hehehehe yeah indeed! Was it indeed a God that made him sleep? Is a God the personification of the natural order of things, aka a man beaten by fatigue hunger and stress simply falling asleep while praying? Hard to tell indeed if Homer is being literal or some times adds the gods as the natural order of things in his writing and I like playing around with these two possibilities 😉

For real. I feel part of the Brilliance of the writing is indeed how we cannot fully blame them because the cruelty of their fate is relatable. They were straddled for weeks and weeks in that island with opposing wind. They could eat the provisions from Circe as Odysseus requested and made them promise but the provisions were long gone. Hunger must have become a torture and food was indeed RIGHT THERE grazing at a breath's distance from them. I would imagine based on how tender Odysseus sounded while narrating his story (for example Homer calls his men "fools". Odysseus doesn't. In one way in my mind is his understanding speaking) that he doesn't blame them. He can understand them because he too suffered from hunger. He doesn't say so in his narrative but one can assume he was. He was with them eating the same food. The same lack of food must have affected him the same much with others which was one of the reasons why he went away to pray. He couldn't show his weakness in front of them to keep their spirit high but he undoubtedly suffered the same hunger. (Which is another reason why I mentioned Odysseus too eating from the meat. Sure he doesn't say so in his narrative because he wants to appear sympathetic to his audience but I have no doubt he wouldn't be able to survive if he hadn't eaten some himself especially given the next 17 days that followed -7 till the storm and 10 out at the sea-)

Yup here it is!!! And man for sure none of them help indeed! And knowing the situation indeed he feels more and more guilt crushing him, seeing the condition his men are in and all so that strikes even deeper. Not to mention if one compares how many they were at first and how many they ended up to remain. Oh man I couldn't have said it better! Everything is crushing on him indeed!

I am so happy you can see that! I was indeed trying to show that! There are a million things he could have said but I would imagine none of them could come to his lips because his guilt speaks too much! He was the one leading them; the one RESPONSIBLE for them so that definitely strikes deep. And yes that last moment I think he would make the human reaction of "no there is still time to fix this" doing damage control indeed. In a way he knows they are doomed based on the prophecy he got from Tiresias and on Circe's warning and yet he tries to change his fate (one might think of it as a hubris again? Maybe indirectly at least the way I wrote it). He would think they could fix it, that there could be some time...that they could repent .... and nope Eurylochus won't drop this indeed! Because he is furious and terrified. And he just wants also to express his disagreement and anger. Oh gosh thank you so much! 💖 I am so honored you think that and yes! I have no doubt that all these men were broken by their trip! Not just Odysseus but all of them! Oh gosh thank you so much!

Yup. When a situation is helpless it all melts down to whom we shall blame for it and usually it is (and fairly so quite often) the one who was in charge; the one who commands is usually the one to take the blame and the responsibility for such things. No Odysseus is in no way mentally present indeed. He is lost in his own thoughts during that time. For real even if he warns them on many things he still didn't reveal everything to them (even wrote a small analysis on how Odysseus remaining awake and all worsened his condition and their mistrust) but for real!

Gosh I love you for this insight! Indeed they are on a sail ship with sets of rows and the rows need balance in order to work and yes one can do as much to move it effectively. So they had to be put of Charybdis range so they needed balance. Had they known that 6 of them would die would make them nervous, disoriented and maybe even antagonizing each other since all of them want to survive and yes there would be a high chance the team would panic and inevitably driving them all to their doom 👏 and for sure Odysseus would never say that he would choose whom to sacrifice so this uncertainty would be even worse and in the end of the day how could Odysseus tell them "6 of us are going to die while being brutally eaten by a monster"? How could he really prepare them for it? What could he really say? But of course his men would have a point too if they said that they would have the right to know.

But indeed could he also really discriminate one or two people out of his crew? And if he did and he told them beforehand indeed why should he trust them not to tell anyone? And quite frankly if you knew that your captain made the decision to sacrifice some of them would you stop yourself and not warn the others just in case they can be saved? And oh man maybe! Although the season they are roaming about now is not 100% clear (I think I read somewhere that they lived with Circe from autumn to autumn but I ain't sure) so yes it could have been hot so yeah oh boy tell me about it! All of them surely went through so much! And if that is combiner with the sun of the summer one can only imagine! And yeah of course Polites understands the responsibility Odysseus had to take but of course he cannot deny their misfortunes. And still yeah none of them can or wants to take decisions.

Oh boy you have no idea how much this means to me! That indeed the conversation of the characters had this effect for you! And man thank you so much for this! I am so happy you can imagine that! ❤️ or that you liked the description! Oh that is for sure which is another reason I didn't really agree with the musical creating so many "epic scenes" for moments like those. In my opinion the Odyssey is not an epic tale to show how badass the protagonist is. The Odyssey is a story of helplessness. The same Odysseus who was eating the Trojans for breakfast now is helplessly dragged from one place to another losing something at every turn. We can if course admire his wit and his will to survive but imo it was indeed as you brilliantly describe it; this feeling of helplessness. At every turn they were facing some creature of nature itself.

For real it wasn't just the prophecy of Tiresias but the curse of Polyphemus but what I loved about that curse was the "if" before it. IF Odysseus manages to return! Sure the average viewer or reader can tell that this is a foreshadowing but at the same time one wonders "what if he doesn't?" In an essence for the character's mind. The reader knows he survived and he knows he is alone since the whole story is told by Odysseus who arrives on his own at Scheria. However the viewer doesn't know whether his comrades die or abandon him or something. Someone might hope till the last moment even if they know the truth! And in a way in Homer's time the viewer more or less is prepared for it but now they see it happening as Odysseus narrates and it gains life! They see HOW it happens not whether it happens or not anymore. But to return to the character himself I am sure Odysseus at that point was not even certain he would survive. Was this the scenario of "let him never return"? Or not? But yes if at that moment he thought of the scenario where he returns he can indeed feel that curse crush him even further, considering himself responsible for the lives lost. And oh my you are so right! He might as well think of that curse and be like "why did it have to be them?!"

"Washed away like nothing...buried under the melody" dude...DUDE!!! that went right in the feels! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Oh I don't recall. I have to check that. I know that some post-homeric sources speak on several prophecies as well one supposedly known by Odysseus that if he went to war he would return after 20 years but never heard that one. But either way yeah I can only imagine that if Odysseus was so fixated to protect his men from the war losing them all like that must have killed him! 💔

Yeah Odysseus was generally faithful to the gods and religious but of course he would address the gods exactly because of that desperation and yes it was him all along. His wit and his will to survive...his own hands that saved him when all gods abandoned him. Oh man that is true! 😢 I doubt indeed at that point Odysseus had any more...he was certainly past beyond his limit and the breaking point after all those tragedies as you so brilliantly stated and yes I am sure he probably suffered from hypothermia or a heatstroke on his way there but yes he endured. He is our hero that's for sure. It is not totally impossible for someone to survive so but certainly not probable indeed. Aww you are great! Indeed he endures even if his broken heart says no. He endures for the home he has to return to, for the men he failed to protect indeed and much more...

Oh gosh you have no idea how much that means to me! Thank you so much! I also loved when you put to the tags how this stands on its own! That is because originally I planned to make it into a short story and I was experimenting with how the chapter would fit! However ended up writing a fuller story. I did entertain the thought this being a separate one-shot but I am so happy you caught that! Oh gosh thank you once more! It means so much! Really! You are awesome 👌 👏

Survivor's Guilt and Survivor's Duty (P1)

Odysseus was hungry. That much he knew. Gods were really cruel with them the days that went through. He had returned from yet another hunt without any success. Not even a single rabbit was visible to Helios’s island. He was already feeling weary and light-headed with hunger; which was why he thought he was hallucinating when he smelt the finest smell of roasting meat he ever met in his life. However it took him no more than two brain cells of his infamous mind to connect the dots and realize what had happened.

“No! Gods no, let it be not what I think it is! Please gods no!”

His legs grew wings as he began sprinting towards the direction of the smell.

“Why did you lull me to that pointless sleep?! Why! It was all to ruin me? To ruin them?!”

He ran with all the strength of his feet to the field only to find what he hoped in all gods he believed in to be a hallucination. He saw what remained of his men from that eventful 3 year journey having lit a fire and roasting a fine cow to the pike, happy and well-fed. In the past days his men just broke. They could withstand hunger no longer and understandably they had only one source of nutrition on that island; those fat, well-kept cows that seemed to be mocking them. Of course his men would do that! Odysseus could not blame them and yet he pulled his long hair in desperation seeing the scene.

“ARE YOU ALL MENTAL? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MINDS?!” he yelled desperately drawing their attention, “I told you not to do that! These sacred animals will be our doom!”

Eurylochus, his trusted commander came forward. His eyes were full of snare and gathered anger.

“Captain,” he started, “did you expect us to starve to death? Not even one little bird was flying around and all the grass in this place turned poisonous for us! We would die anyways! This time we were doomed either way!”

The loud voice of the furious man was cut off from the sound of flesh striking against flesh and then Eurylochus’s head turned to the side. Odysseus was huffing and puffing; nostrils flattering aflame as he gathered his strong hand back.

“You fools!” he growled tears burning his onyx eyes, “you damned fools! This was a test! A test for our faith and we failed! We failed miserably! Haven’t you learnt anything? Insulting the gods is never a good idea! We should rather die of starvation than this! The gods will show no mercy on us now! We are doomed!”

“You would know of that!” Eurylochus suddenly bellowed beyond himself, “You doomed us all, Odysseus! If you haven’t done that we would be in our country by now! These three years happened because of you!”

This time it was a punch that stroke his cheek, not a slap. Eurylochus fell on the sand but he had no time to breathe for Odysseus grabbed him by the shirt lifting him up to his feet again. The comrades rushed there to grab him (oh they remembered his rage the other time nearly cost Eurylochus his life!) however Odysseus was almost as unmovable as a statue at that point. His face was red with fury.

“I tried to save us all!” he yelled, “Ungrateful bastard, I tried to save us all! I faced the beast that could have eaten us all! After everything I did for you! I-…”

He stopped. He shivered from top to bottom. Eurylochus was right. All had happened because of him. He had insulted Poseidon by blinding his son; he was arrogant enough to brag about it…no, even further back; Troy fell because of him. So many men died because of him. Ten years they fought a brutal war; they had endured the weather, the living conditions, the battles… More than 600 men started and finished the war with barely any loss…and now…less than 3 years out in the sea and… They started 12 ships and now they were one…less than 40 men left in one final ship…and all was initiated because of him…he could not deny it. He found no words to defend himself. Gradually he let go of Eurylochus, who wiped the blood off his lip with his fist. He noticed his men had gathered around to separate them from each other but it didn’t seem necessary anymore. The comrades had let him go, noticing he was almost limb in their arms. His onyx eyes were bottomless. No, it shouldn’t end like that! He had committed hubris to save his men and he doomed them, he had forced himself to bed a woman for one year after gods requested to rectify it and yet here they were again. None of the sacrifices seemed to be enough to wash that sin away. No, he couldn’t let them die like that! He had to try! He had promised he would repent! He had to save them before that happened!

“Gather up your stuff, men!” he ordered, eyes still shadowed by his hair, “We must go as soon as possible!”

“Go?” Polites asked, “Go where?”

“At ANY land!” Odysseus whispered, “Anywhere but here! We must offer a sacrifice of some kind! We must wash away this hubris!”

As he turned his back at them –oh he couldn’t face them now!- Eurylochus stood up and looked at him with eyes resembling knives.

“Should we take the rest of the meat too…Captain?” that word was almost spat like an insult, “Or shall we hope Poseidon will grace us with a meal?”

Odysseus winced. Eurylochus; his brave and loyal friend; the type of person that sure, didn’t tell him always nice things but he was always honest with him and always told him some things that needed to be said; now he seemed gone; All their adventures and torments had hardened him, killing his old comrade and giving him  in his place a bitter, hateful man who could understand no longer the difference between insolence, disrespect and honesty or couldn’t care less to tell them apart. Odysseus couldn’t blame him but at that moment he found his transformation disturbing and concerning. He glared daggers at him. The mention of the meat of the slain animals made even his mouth water. He was hungry too. They wouldn’t survive without food and yes, Poseidon sure wouldn’t allow them to fill their bellies with his fish given the situation and the sea birds even if they graced them with their presence, which he doubted, were inedible and poisonous. Gods forgive me, he thought, but I am just a man!

“Damn you!” he cursed under his husky breath, “Take what you wish! If we survive this, pray to all gods that I will forget this because by all gods one day I’m gonna kill you!”

He could hardly remember the process but he knew they were on their way again; so fast and so hastily inside their last black ship in the openness of the Mediterranean Sea. If it was in his hand, Odysseus would have stayed close to the shore but of course gods were cruel for yet another time as Helios’s magnificent isle lay in the middle of open sea. He had no choice but to head for the sea and hope for the best. He knew there were lands close by; if they could reach them… For six days the trip was uneventful and his comrades had as provisions the meat from the slain animals to feast upon. Even Odysseus had to admit he had tasted the magnificent flesh of the animals, for he could withstand hunger no more. However six days of such a trip and he was always expecting the worst, which never seemed to be coming. His nerves just broke. It was the seventh day of their journey; still no sight of any land and still he hadn’t spoken a word. He was staring at the endless blue of the wine-dark sea and he didn’t speak a word. He could sense his comrades’ tension in the air; he could almost cut it with a knife! And yet, Odysseus could not focus on that. Polites looked up from the deck towards him and then towards Eurylochus who still had his cheek swollen.

“He’s so lost in thought…” Polites commented

“He should be!” Eurylochus replied bitterly, “He might be our king but sometimes he has a lot of nerve to talk to us that way! It was HIS hubris that brought us to this position!”

“Now that is both unfair and blasphemous to our king!” Polites replied

“He is no god for me to perform blasphemy!” Eurylochus replied as a matter of fact

Polites sighed.

“We have our own share of responsibility, you know! If we hadn’t opened that damned sack we might have reached home as well!”

Eurylochus winced at the reminder of Aiolus sack. Yes, that truly was their mistake. They got overcome by greed and distrust.

“And, besides, what Odysseus said is true. You and I were never there. We didn’t experience the week of seclusion in that hole. Perhaps we would have done the same…”

Eurylochus sighed defeated.

“Yeah…perhaps you’re right. And he DID spend a year entertaining Circe till our comrades healed… However…” his face darkened a bit, “I still cannot shake it off, Polites! It is majorly his fault we ended up like this! And he DID keep secrets from us. Or have you forgotten how he kept his mouth shut about Skylla? Six of our comrades dead…and we didn’t even know what was coming…”

“He wanted to spare us…”

“Yeah I am sure he suffered, alright, but we still had the right to know! Perhaps we could have come up with a plan together. Perhaps we could have fought back!”

“Fight back an immortal six-headed dragon? I am not sure how that would have worked but…even if you are right and he should have told us, that doesn’t change the fact that he is here with us now. If he wanted he could have stayed with the witch, Circe and sent us off and we would have no directions and no warnings.”

“He didn’t do that for us, Polites”

“Not entirely, I agree, but wouldn’t be fair to say that he did it for us as well?”

Eurylochus sighed.

“Fine, but seriously it was such a long trip and even longer way… I just want to go home!”

“We all do…” Polites whispered concerned.

Yes, ten years of war plus three years of wandering and danger…more than five hundred good men dead… Everyone could understand the feeling.

“I agree with Eurylochus, though…” said another man, “It was all a big mess that initiated when Odysseus insulted Lord Poseidon. I had warned him that day! I said, stop provoking him! He didn’t listen… We are all paying the price now…”

Polites sighed. Yes, he couldn’t deny that but still it seemed rather unfair to say it was just Odysseus’s fault. If anything, Odysseus was sacrificing many things along the way to protect and save them. He shivered in disgust remembering that he was told he had turned into a swine because he entered Circe’s palace. He felt grateful to Odysseus for rescuing him from such a fate. And yet… He still couldn’t shake that ominous feeling that something would happen and Odysseus’s silence wouldn’t help. Not bearing it any longer he slowly approached Odysseus. He didn’t acknowledge his presence. The silence was deafening. Only the cricking of the ship and the sound of the waves could be heard. There was no land at sight anywhere. It was quiet…WAY too quiet…

“Odysseus…” Polites started, “we…”

“Sh!” Odysseus harshly shushed him

“Please, I have to say it…” Polites insisted, “We were starving we made a mistake but-…”

“Quiet!” came yet another whisper

Polites gulped soundly, opening and closing his fist nervously.

“Odysseus…” he started, “Have we ruined everything…?”

Odysseus looked at him and he seemed ready to reply but then he raised his head sharply towards the sail and then to the ripples of the waves. All color left his face.

“Odysseus…? What is it…?”

“That is Eastern Wind…” Odysseus whispered almost in a panic, “That is Zephyr that is blowing at us! That’s not normal! Not at this time of year!”

He almost jumped from his standing point, suddenly seen afraid maybe for the first time in a long time if not ever in his life before.

“MEN! PREPARE YOURSELVES! STORM MIGHT BE COMING!”

His comrades didn’t have enough time to question if he lost it or not (given the clear skies around them) because in a few minutes the weather changed so drastically and rapidly that people could only suspect a god was causing it. Black clouds filled the sky in a matter of a few minutes and then suddenly the distant sound of a thunder was heard.

“No…” Odysseus whispered, “No…please, lord Zeus no! Forgive us…please!”

Strong winds raised as a matter of seconds and suddenly the deep blue sea turned into a full-fledged storm. The waves rose in angry white foam and the skies were black like coal with flashes of lightning and thunder. Rain followed that was cold and whipping their faces like needles. The men cried out in fear.

“EURYLOCHUS!” Odysseus bellowed on top of his lungs, “SECURE THE SAIL!”

“SECURE THE SAILS!” Eurylochus transferred the order, “ALL HANDS ON DECK!”

The panic galore was not allowing the orders to properly pass however the soul of the sailor cannot be abided by panic! All hands on deck began to work frantically; they commenced running up and down grabbing the chords and the lines, some of them already climbing to the mast to secure the sail. However it seemed the rage of gods was stronger than the determination of men and their burning wish for survival. A strong current of wind torn the sail to peaces sending quite a few falling on the deck.

“LEAVE IT!” Odysseus yelled as a strong wave splashed over him, “BEFORE THE WIND! HOLD ON TIGHTLY MEN!”

As the ship was played around on the waves like a toy, the terrified warriors and tired sailors would be desperately trying to use the rows to turn the ship; do something, ANYTHING to prevent themselves from crushing on the waves. The sail was now torn to shreds; like the cape of a dethroned king, aimlessly whipping against the mast at the strong wind.

“BEFORE THE WIND!” Odysseus kept screaming over the wind, grabbing the line of the sail in a desperate attempt to keep the material from hitting anyone on deck, “ROW MEN! ROW!”

The ship was being pushed mercilessly upon the waves; creaking and moaning against the wind. Three pairs of rows snapped like twigs leaving the ship spinning aimlessly to the winds. The black ship began to tear apart as cracks and gushes appeared to the sides. The deck started taking water both from below and above from the waves.

“SHE’S TAKING WATER!” one of the sailors cried

“REPAIR THE DAMAGES!” Odysseus cried out in desperation running as he was already ankle-deep in water, “WE MUST KEEP HER AFLOAT!”

It was a pointless order and he knew it. No matter how many times they stuffed torn pieces of the sail in the holes it would be pointless. They were already soaked to the bone, they had no way of lighting fire or softening the wax to fix anything. They were just trying to delay the inevitable and they were failing miserably.

“Lord Zeus…father of all mankind and gods please forgive us!” Odysseus prayed again, “Please, we shall repent! Give us a chance! Poseidon! Oh, Poseidon, please give me a chance!”

The disturbing creaking of wood being slowly broken didn’t need much for Odysseus to understand.

“WATCH OUT!” he cried out

Both the fore-stays of the mast snapped like twigs. The mast began to fall in a disturbing creak and collapsed to the stern. The pilot did not have time but to look up at his upcoming doom as the mast crushed him. Even above the tempest the men heard the disturbing sound of bones breaking as his head was crushed and blood splattered upon the stern. The body fell into the black sea, lifeless and soulless. At the sight of that death there was panic galore. No one heard the orders Odysseus was screaming; no one had any mind but to run up and down aimlessly like ants that were seeing their colony collapse. All they could do was scream their upcoming doom. In a foolish hope or rather a crazy need to survive, Odysseus rushed to the half-broken stern, grabbing the remains of the steer; his hands being died with the blood of the pilot.

“No! No! NO!”

He used all the strength of his mighty hands to do something…ANYTHING to steer the ship away the storm. His hands began bleeding out of the effort upon the splints of the destroyed wood.

“Gods no! Not again! No! No!”

The waves were raising the ship to the heaven and dropping it back down like a walnut shell as people were holding for dear life at the remains of their already tearing apart ship. The steer snapped in the hands of Odysseus and fell into the black sea never to be seen again.

“PREPARE FOR IMPACT!” Odysseus cried out, “HOLD ON!”

Therewith the worst came; a thunderbolt stroke the ship and the sudden flash and tremendous sound left them all blind and deaf. Odysseus screamed in pain shielding his ears. The ship cracked from side to side down in the middle; splintering in the winds like it was a pile of leaves. Ears buzzing and his nose filled with smoke from the fiery fire that lit upon the sad remains of the deck, Odysseus staggered to his feet, struggling to get two steps straight, trying to see through the sulphurous smoke (the only thing he could see was his comrades or what was left of them staggering on the ruins of their ship like drunk) when the last tidal wave came to finish the job. The wave must have been as tall as the remains of the ship as it flooded with tremendous force on the deck sweeping everything…and everyone! Odysseus got violently banged against the hull but he watched in terror through his cloudy from water eyes his comrades falling into the water screaming aimlessly for it was the only thing they could do.

“NOOOOOO!” Odysseus could only cry out as he ran to the rim

He watched the bodies of his men almost like small white dots to the absolute blackness; already almost a mile away, sometimes disappearing under the waves at the force of the tempest. Odysseus nearly lost the remains of his wits as he ran about the ship trying to find literally ANYTHING he could use. Another surge torn apart parts of the keel and the mast snapped from it. Odysseus reacted almost automatically as he rushed to the broken ropes and parts of the keel and mast. His hands and thick fingers began working frantically, almost completely unconsciously as water was hurting his eyes and rain was feeling as if piercing his flesh. All his Being was screaming for him to save himself; to survive! However that tiny part of his brain was tingling to him; maybe there are some men who are still alive! Maybe there is time!

“Please Athena! Please Athena…let me save them! It can’t be too late!” he was mumbling as he was securing the ropes so that the two pieces of wood would tie together, “Please, Pallas please! Let me save just one! Please! Let me return home just one! Please! Please! It can’t be too late! I can’t lose them all!”

Yet another thunder from the skies made him jump and then the remains of his favorite ship were torn apart! Odysseus grabbed upon his last raft of salvation. He jumped into the merciless ocean, rowing frantically with his hand towards the direction he saw his men disappear.

“EURYLOCHUS!” he cried out over the waves, “POLITES! ANYONE! ANSWER ME!”

The only answer he got was thunder and wind. The waves were tall like mountains!

“POLITES!” he called out again

Tears filled his eyes as his voice broke.

“SOMEONE!...P-Please! Anyone! Anyone…!”

There was nothing on site…just waves and storm.

“No…” Odysseus cried, “NOOOOOOOO!!!”

Realization was crueler than what he would expect…there was no one…just himself! He cried…he cried loudly as he never cried before.

“NOOO! WHY! WHY! WHY!” he yelled over the waves, “IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN-…”

His mind and wits nearly escaped him. He remembered that day before their sail for Troy…there were more than six hundred men…waiting for their dangerous trip…

*

Odysseus was standing before his men; the future fleet that was ready for this uncertain trip. Odysseus, dressed in his fine clothes, his long hair neatly brushed and beard trimmed, was looking at them seriously.

“We are heading for a dangerous trip, my men…” he said, “The road is long and we have no idea how long it will take for us to finish with the holy castle of Troy… If we result in war…there is no guarantee it will end soon…”

His onyx eyes stared deeply within countless others of pairs.

“I cannot lie to you, men…I cannot promise you that we shall all return home safely”

He drew a deep breath.

“However I promise you this; I shall do ANYTHING within my power so we can return home safely! I won’t disappoint you!”

*

Back to the present Odysseus cried. He weakly hit his fist upon the mast.

“No…” he sobbed, “I won’t disappoint you…!”

Six hundred men…they were all gone…disappeared… He began hyperventilating. No, it couldn’t be true!

“No…No, Athena! No Athena!” he cried trying to fist the water beneath him as if it were sand, “No, Pallas…! No… No, my men…! NOOOOO! NOOOOOOOO!”

He yelled till his throat was sore…till his voice was gone…he sobbed and cried tears almost as plenty as the waves of the sea. The storm was roaming around him… There was no one there to hear his lament… His voice was carried around by the wind…his tears were washed away by sea and rain…His body was borne by the direful winds…

Six hundred men had started that fateful journey…

Now there was only one…

Now he was alone.

*

The tempest began slowly to subside and the eastern wind gave his place to a breeze from the south. Odysseus was hanging helplessly upon his supposed raft. The nightly fight with the waves had exhausted him and his tears had long now dried out like the salt in his curly hair. His head was already dropping in fatigue when something made him look up. His eyes widened in terror.

“No…” he whispered

He recognized the location. In his pure terror he recognized the narrow path of Skylla and Charybdis; the passage he had struggled so much to get his men out of; the passage that cost the life of six of his comrades. What was worse…he heard an unworldly moan from deep down the sea. His feet felt the low frequency vibration…and then there was a whirlpool. Charybdis had awakened!

“No!” Odysseus cried out, “No, gods, no!”

The merciless current and the frightening groaning from deep down the sea started drawing him. Odysseus at the edge of his wit began frantically rowing with his hand; desperate in his fear to get away from the deathly current that would suck anything to its path! At that moment he remembered Circe’s warnings;

“You must not be there when she sucks it down; for no one could save you from the ruin not even the Earthshaker himself…”

“I HAVE TO TRY, CIRCE!” Odysseus yelled towards the sky in his panic, “I have to try or else my men’s deaths were for nothing!”

The merciless current though wouldn’t bulge as Odysseus realized in terror his pitiful attempts could never save him from this hellish force. The two pieces of wood that were forming his only salvation were being dragged in the ruthless elix. The water was already foaming when he reached the grotto. In panic he scanned the perimeter. Only then his eyes remembered what his brain had erased in fear; the fig tree! Circe had said there was that fig tree shadowing Charybdis! The massive roots and branches were hanging over him; it was his only hope! With strength only panic and adrenaline could give him, Odysseus pushed himself on top of the last remains of his ship and kicked as hard as he could. He had only one chance. His wounded and red hands grasped for dear life onto the rough branches and thank goodness his fingers closed around them!

“ARGH!” Odysseus cried in pain feeling as though his arms would be uprooted out of his own weight, “GODS!”

His legs helplessly hanging over the abyss were desperately moving trying to find a footing but there was none! His arms didn’t have the strength to pull him up at the tree either so he could only hang and hold for dear life. Odysseus dared to look down and saw in terror the gaping hole sucking in the sea and with it his only safety raft. His wet hands would slip and fall if it weren’t for the sheer determination that held him! He prayed to all gods that he knew and didn’t know that this time, just this time, he would find salvation; that his small raft would be vomited out of that whirlpool otherwise he would be lost… The growling rumble from beneath the watery abyss signaled the begin of the outside movement to what it seemed like an eternity later.

“Please gods…please…please…” he was thinking like a mantra

And then he spotted it! The small brownish outline of his mast and keel. He would have a chance! Fear was biting his stomach as he looked down at the whirlpool vomiting out seawater. He knew he had to act quickly or he would have no hope to swim to his raft in that condition. Charybdis below him seemed ready to swallow him even if she was vomiting out the water. What if she really swallowed him if he let go? What if he would be destroyed by some wave? Odysseus looked and looked and the seconds seemed like eons to his tormented heart that was flattering within his chest. He shut his eyes closed; to not see; to not fear and he made his decision

He let go of the branch.

Gravity claimed his body as he fell to the empty space and within the foaming water. The water was hot; hotter than human body temperature and to the tormented king of Ithaca who was freezing from water that seemed like a boiling cauldron. His ears were filled with the sound of bubbles and the hellish growling of Charybdis. He didn’t dare to look; only he paddled like his life depended on it (and it did!) . The suction force that was pushing him upwards this time was with him. Odysseus felt his lungs burning for air and he nearly breathed in the sea water as he hadn’t got a proper breath before diving in the sea. And he was pushed up and up till he was vomited out of the water and drew a soundly breath. He swam frantically till his raft and grabbed onto it with his wounded hands for dear life coughing salted water; nose and eyes aflame from the salt. He rowed and rowed with his hand almost immediately after he caught some breaths. He turned around towards the OTHER dreadful site.

“If Skylla comes out…I’m lost!” he thought

However the dreadful cave that hosted the monster that claimed the lives of six of his crew remained dark and silent. Nothing came out. Odysseus wasted no time and rowed and paddled like crazy to get as far away as possible from that dreadful area. He didn’t know how far Charybdis or Skylla’s ranges were but he certainly didn’t want to know! That was knowledge that even Odysseus of Ithaca, the Man of many Ways could pass on! After what seemed like a full eternity and when the sun was setting for good at the horizon, Odysseus had covered enough distance to see the grotto from afar. He collapsed onto his mast, drawing raspy breaths till his chest began to hurt. He seemed he had no more strength to move. His hands were full of wounds from the ship and the tree branches and hurt from salted water, his lips were torn from the sea and salt had crusted onto his face and hair. Then Odysseus broke down. He cried silently alone in the middle of the sea; he cried for his men he lost, he cried for his dreams that seemed to becoming fainter and fainter; the dreams to embrace his wife and son and he cried for himself. He had barely any hope to survive. He had no men; sea had claimed them. He had no vessel; the storm had claimed it. He had no food or water; those were gone long time ago. He barely had any clothes on for even those were soaked and already tearing apart from the wind and sea. What was the point to keep going, he thought? What would be the point to struggle? He had slim to no possibilities to escape. He was alone in the open sea without protection in Poseidon’s territory. Any kind of sea creature from the usual sharks till the dangerous creatures he faced so far, could potentially kill him.

“I should have died there!” he thought, “Alas this fate is worse than the death in the ship! This agony! Oh, gods I can’t bear it anymore!”

“You are made to endure, Odysseus…”

That was what his grandfather had told him when he visited him in Parnassus what seemed like an eternity prior; almost in another life. However even the tormented Odysseus had his limits. And now these seemed surpassed. Maybe he should let go; allow the sea to take him and end his torment. Maybe he could meet his family in a few decades in the underworld… Why struggle for the inevitable? And yet a small voice to the back of his head made him think that he could not give up just yet; that he had to keep trying and if the sea would claim him then so let it be written, so let it be done. However he had to try and fulfill the prophecy of Tiresias. He felt like he owned this to the 600 lives that were lost under his command. He looked up at the stars that seemed to have started to form. Yes, he would follow the directions that the night dress of Nyx was pointing at. Finding strength anew, the Man Tormented paddled slowly and steadily away from the dreadful spot…

*

Odysseus traveled once more; this time alone and grabbing upon the last remains of his beloved black ship… The night came cold and he was shivering. By the morning another storm caught up with him and his mast was once more drifted by the huge waves that resembled white top mountains, tearing apart his clothes and his flesh. And yet his hands endured… It was as if his heart and hands combined turned into oak or stones. The Man of many Torments endured. Next day the sun was merciless over his head, sending him almost to the brief of hallucinations and heat as sweat was running down his already wounded body. The night the gods felt pity on him and sent a drizzle rain. Odysseus raised his head to the heavens trying to grab as much of the fresh god-sent water as if that would be enough to quench his insatiable thirst and the burning of the salt. Once a passing seaweed came close to him to which Odysseus made some sort of imitation of a meal for himself. How many times he nearly slipped off his life-raft he lost count…how many times he probably actually fainted on it he could no longer remember. And yet, the King of Ithaca endured…in strength that he had no idea he had. It was as if both his body and spirit had decided he had a duty to survive. He survived the agony and pain as well as the anxiety and fear every time something touched his foot beneath the waves or a passing fish would bite his legs. He had long stopped feeling much.

By night before the tenth day of his painful journey he had collapsed. He didn’t feel the sand beneath his body as his raft finally beached at a sandy beach. He didn’t move as some crab or beach beetle walked over his sea-beaten body. By dawn some hints of his consciousness returned. It was only for a brief second that the rays of sun touched his salt-crusted cheek but Odysseus saw or at least he thought he saw a tall slender figure picking something up from the beach many meters away from him (maybe a seashell). The figure turned towards him and walked there.

And then everything turned black…

~~~~~

Ooookay guys this the first part from my Odyssey story! Poor Odysseus loses everything and gets beached in Ogygia.

Rhapsody 12 must be the most intense or one of the most intense of all the Odyssey and honest the way that Homer describes how Odysseus survived had to be kept as it was from my part!

Poor Odysseus must have passed from all the stages of grief at once!

Now I get extremely inspired by music and soundtracks for my stories. For example the Charybdis description was heavily inspired by the amazing Disney soundtrack for the movie "Dinosaur" with the title "The End of Our Island"

For his eventful journey I was partially inspired by Mozart's "Kyrie" from the Great Mass in C Minor and also the scene from the film "Les Triplettes de Belville" for the battle with the elements especially the storm and all.

For the sinking itself I was inspired by various soundtracks and pieces of music.

For my story I kinda take the hypothesis that Ogygia was in fact the small island of Gozo in Malta

As the other time I shall tag some of my amazing commentors/rebloggers and friends! (again forgive me if I forget anyone)

@loco-bird @aaronofithaca05 @tunguszka20 @doob-or-something @jarondont @prompted-wordsmith @simugeuge @fangirlofallthefanthings @ilov3b00kss0much

[cherrypoki]

• Golden Hue

➵ Summary: A small series of events leads to you spending your free afternoon on a hill with your friend Gundham Tanaka

➵ Pairing: Gundham Tanaka/ Female! Reader

➵ Genre: Fluff, Friends To Lovers, Bonding, Deep Talk, Mutual Pining,

➵ Word Count: 1.637k 

➵ Y/N’s Talent: Unspecified 

➵ Authors Note: AHDIHDHKBD IM SORRY I CANNOT WRITE GUNDHAM DIALOG FOR SHIT SO IM SORRY DONT ATTACK ME IM TRYING SKDSJDBJJHB

Exhaustion.

That was the only you could way you could describe how you felt. A deep lethargy had lay to rest in your body and etched itself into your bones. 

School was always making you work hard but this part week had really overworked you. Finally the weekend was coming up and all you wanted to do was lie down and sleep forever until you were nothing but a memory.

But life has a funny way of changing things. 

You see, you never were supposed to be outside at the park in the first place. But before you could get to your dorm you had been stopped by Mahiru to talk to you about being a model for some of her cottage-core photos, then when you finally got to your dorm you realised you had locked your keys inside your dorm. and when you went to find the ultimate lock-pick you were stopped by another one of your friends who was looking for their missing dog.

And that’s how you ended up at the park at 7:38pm 

The sun was starting to hang low in the sky and you couldn’t see anyone else at the park except for your friend who was climbing the statue and yelling out their dogs name. And not to be rude but you wanted to hurry up and find this dog so you could go home. Hearing a bark in the distance past the trees you yelled to your friend who must’ve heard the same thing as they jumped down from the statue and ran toward the noise, Before they did turning at you to yell 

“please stay here in case I’m wrong!”

So now there you were. Alone in the park and waiting for your friend to come back. Tired and beginning to hit the wall as they say you slowly walked over to the nearby hill, somehow managing to make it to the top without falling over. Flopping into the grass you lay down.

You didn’t even hear footsteps until someone lay right next to you. 

“Hello There Mortal”

Ah, Your lips twisted into a small smile as there was only one person you knew who had that mixture of the way they talked and how deep their voice was. 

Gundham Tanaka. 

Right then you couldn’t even be bothered to lift your head so you kept your eyes closed and smiled in awareness. 

“Hey Gundham”

“Our meeting must have been foreseen by the elder gods as I have been thinking about our last meeting”

The last time you’d seen Gundham was a few weeks ago when one of his Four Dark Devas had wandered off and ended up in your room. Your roommate (having a cat) was not fond of this as San-D nearly became San-Dead if it wasn’t for you recognising him and deciding to bring him back to his master. But the fact that as soon as the hamster saw you it decided to jump at you and hide in your clothes. 

To be honest even though you were friends you hadn’t seen each other in a while. But neither one of you saw the need to explain or give your excuses. You both were ultimate's at Hopes Peek Academy of course you weren’t always gonna have time to hang out. But seeing this moment as a chance to catch up you slowly opened your eyes and had the pleasure of getting an eye full of a beautiful lemonade pink sky. And as a soft wind blew making the flowers and grass tickle your sides you couldn’t remember the last time you felt this okay. 

“How’s life been treating you?” You craned your head lightly to see the boys face. His eyes fixated on the sky he answered you without much thought. 

“As well as life at this academy can be”

Nodding you turned your head back to face the sky. 

“Have you ever thought about the fact that when we’re looking at the sky we’re not just looking at the sky but out into space and far far into the universe?”

Shaking his head he seemed to change the way he looked at the sky as if he was considering what you just said.

“Well is there any proof that any of this matters and were not living on a giant dog write now? For all we know we could be made up things in San-D’s head”

He chuckled at that. And a tiny head poked out of his scarf as if it had heard its name. You wouldn’t be shocked if he did recognise his name given how amazing Gundhams Ham- uh Devas were. 

Crawling across the grass and onto the chest the tiny creature looked down at you and feeling a laugh rise from your gut you dramatically gasped and threw your hand over your head.  “I have been defeated”

You couldn’t see from the angle but were pretty sure Gundham was rolling his eyes as the rest of the Devas seemed to want to join in on the conquering of planet (Y/N) as Cham-P waddled over to you and crawled on top of you as well while Maga-Z and Jum-P seemed to be happy on Gundhams head and chest. 

“If we are all living in Sand-D’s head I can guarantee that I would be ruling over everyone as the supreme leader of the Tanaka Empire!”

You giggled slightly, Even when the two of you were alone if was rare of him to break character, which is why it was a shock when he said 

“Maybe all of this is just in our heads”

But you learned not to make a big deal of it when Gundham dropped some of his walls. You wanted to make him comfortable so whether he was Tanaka the Forbidden One or just Gundham you still talked to him like you were (Y/N).

“I heard about a thing called Solipsism, It’s basically a theory where everything you see is created by your own mind like you said”

“Oh really?” He titled his head quizzically, which looked a bit weird since he was lying on the ground but he still managed to pull it off. Swatting at your leg feeling something itch before realising it was just one of the flowers you turned your head to look at him once more. A deep feeling of happiness set into your gut as you began to realise how much you’d missed Gundham, even just talking to him like this made you feel so....whole. Even though you hadn’t known each other as long as others at the school have. You’d only known each other for about a year now it definitely didn’t feel like it. 

To say that you bonded easier with Gundham than the others would be an understatement. An odd testament when you realise exactly how different Gundham is to the rest of your classmates. But to you, that just made him more approachable. 

Yawning slightly you leaned up, putting your arm on the ground next to him hovering over his head. Picking one of the flowers you smile lazily as you tucked it behind his ear. 

“It’s very hard to explain so to cut it short its basically the belief that nothing outside your mind exists”

Laying back down you couldn’t but laugh, There was a deep pink tint to his cheek. Though you couldn’t tell whether it was from the sunset or a blush at first you managed when the sky changed from pink to orange, and then the hue lighting his face was almost golden. But the pink was still there, and it matched with the flower you’d put behind his ear very nicely. 

“If everything around me is my imagination your the best thing I could come up with”

If you weren’t sure his cheeks were pink before you were now. And you began to worry you’d overstepped your bounds. Moving to quickly get up and apologise but his hand reached out across your stomach and slowly pulled you back down onto the grass with him. Turning your head back to face him you saw one of his rare smiles, though he had pulled his scarf up past his mouth you looked over at Jum-P on his chest and couldn’t help but giggle at the hamsters knowing look. 

His hand reached out and picked a flower, but he must’ve lingered with it in his hand for to long as Maga-Z jumped off his head and and grabbed it out of his hand, crawling over to you and pushing it behind your ear. 

His voice came out a little muffled due to the scarf over his mouth but you still heard him well enough. 

“Tell me more about that theory”

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Epilogue:

It was pretty dark by the time the two of you decided to go back to your dorms. And it was only halfway there you remembered.

“Fuck!”

Gundham looked over at you confused. 

“What’s wrong?”

You sighed, “Shit I forgot my dorm room is locked, I was supposed to go find a locksmith but then my friend needed help finding her dog-”

He interrupted your rambling by grabbing your hand. 

“You can spend the night at mine”

By now you were used to Gundham talking normally. But you shook your head.

“I couldn't-”

“You’ve got nowhere to go, As long as you don’t mind a few animals you can stay with me”

You looked up at him, he was already pulling you toward his dorm. 

“I’m not leaving someone I care about in the cold when I can help”

As he opened the door to his dorm a smile stretched onto your face. You had to remember to thank your friend later, and give her dog a snack. 

[tiiescut]

ooc. also a lot of us have a complex relationship with our languages. 

some of us have a first language that ISN’T their most used language. my first language is french but I use english way more. 

my writing in english is WAY better than my writing in french. ask me to write in french and i start sweating. 

I read way faster in french than I do in english. the way french dialog is written is easier to read for me than the way english dialog is written (and yes there is a format difference as well).

people who have multiple languages might actually loose their least-used language because they just don’t get a chance to speak it very often.

people who learn the language through school DO NOT have a complete and robust understanding of a language. oh my god I cannot emphasize this enough. The language you learn in school systems are not a replacement for speaking with people who are native to that language. slang exists, dialects exist. 

if your muse is multilingual, you SHOULD explore what dialects they speak. there are 10 Spanish dialects, 28 french dialects, Russian has 3, german has 16. SOME PEOPLE WHO TECHNICALLY SPEAK THE SAME LANGUAGE WILL STRUGGLE TO COMMUNICATE. 

I speak French Canadian French. Speaking with a Parisian french speaker is challenging and I cannot for the LIFE of me understand Hatian french but yet we all TECHNICALLY speak the same language.

[naralanis]

hey nara! first off, I absolutely adore your blog and your writing, Perhaps is on my comfort fics list that I pull out whenever I’m having a bad time. I also happen to be a fan of your pen instagram and I was wondering if you had any suggestions on some fountain pens for beginners? I recently bought a “Pilot MR Retro Pop” that I really enjoy but I think I’m ready to branch off a bit. Do you have any tips with practicing with fountain pens you’d be willing to share? As much as I try, my handwriting never looks as nice as I want it to with mine. No pressure to respond if not, just wanted to stop by and let you know how much I enjoy your content! Hope you have a pleasant rest of your day/night!

Oh goodness, you’re talking about fic AND fountain pens in the same ask? Stop, stop, I’m already married!

First off, thanks for reading; I’m so glad Perhaps is there for you when ya need it, it makes me really happy to hear. Seriously warms my heart!

As far as fountain pens go... ANON I HAVE SO MANY THINGS TO TALK ABOUT I AM SO SORRY THIS WILL BE SUCH A LONG RIDE so I’m going to put it under the cut sorry sorry sorry in this essay I will

Hooray for the Pilot MR (or Metro, here in the US), it’s an AMAZING little pen, and if you’re calling it the MR, chances are you got it with an international standard converter, you lucky, lucky duck. I’m happy you’re enjoying it, as far as beginner pens go, this one is an excellent choice.

When you say “branching out”, this can mean one of two things. It can mean you want to branch out to other brands but a similar price range, or that you’re ready for a ‘next level’ pen. I’ll try to cover both! (I’ll link some of these models to the Goulet Pens website, but feel free to look for them elsewhere--I just really like Goulet’s very thorough descriptions)

If you’re looking to explore other pen models in the MR’s price range, there’s a metric ton of  options! Sticking with Pilot, you can try the Explorer-- a completely different, more streamlined pen than the MR, but if you’re used to the nib on your pen, you have a better idea of what to expect with it. There’s also the Kakuno, which is cheaper, but very cute with its little smiley face nibs haha

Another Japanese pen you can try: the Platinum Plaisir. Aluminum body, but do remember that Platinum nibs generally give a little more feedback than Pilot’s, which are some of the smoothest Japanese-made nibs I’ve ever seen.

You can also try the Diplomat Magnum -- it’s a a great little pen, and I love mine. Keep in mind, it is very lightweight, especially compared to the MR’s metal body, but to me that makes it great for long writing sessions. The nib is completely different--it will write a little wider, a little wetter than the MR (and any other Japanese-made pen), but it’s slightly springy and awesome to write with. Plus, it has an ink window so you can keep track of your ink!

Other options in this price range: the Jinhao 8802 (Shell or Rosewood, and the most bang for your buck imo as far as cheap fountain pens go), the Jinhao x750 or x450 (these are heavier, but they look great!), the TWISBI GO (a teeny, amazing little pen with a spring-loaded piston filling mechanism), and a Kaweco Sport (another pocket-pen, German-made, so the nib will write a little wetter/wider generally) or the Perkeo.

Now, if you’d like to push your price range a little further (only a little! I promise not to break the bank!), you cannot go wrong with Lamy.I am a self-admitted Lamy fangirl, so I may be a little biased, buuuut... it is what it is, their pens are great, they’re easy to disassemble for cleaning (I go totally nuts over it and even disassemble the converters, which you absolutely don’t need to do), and their nibs are SO EASILY INTERCHANGEABLE!

You can pick up a Lamy Safari for fairly cheap nowadays (and ever cheaper look-alikes, which I will never endorse but also will not judge anyone for buying), and they come in so many colours (the O.G. 1980 colours were also just reissued!), they’re like my Pokemon because I want to catch ‘em all.

For a little more, you can get yourself a Lamy AL-Star--the same design of the Safari, but this time in aluminum, which makes it look super cool (but also prone to scratches if you’re the kind of person that puts your pen in your pocket with your keys... that’s... definitely not me...), so keep that in mind.

You can also pick yourself up a Lamy Logo, for a couple more bucks. A completely different design, but still great, particularly if you like slimmer pens.

The nibs on ALL the Lamy models (even the more expensive ones like the Studio or the Scala or even the Dialog) are interchangeable! Even the gold nib on the Dialog! The only exception is the Lamy 2000 (which is probably one of the best pens out there period, and certainly an amazing first-gold-nib pen).

The one thing that absolutely kills me about the cheaper Lamy pens is that, for the most part, none of them come with a converter--you have to buy it separately. Which is fine, it’s not super expensive, and it is widely available, but COME ON, LAMY, JUST GIMME.

If you’d like to try a cool-looking pen with a CRAZY ink capacity and a nifty piston-filling mechanism, look no further than the TWISBI ECO. I have one of these (green, obv), and I love it. Never tires me out, and I stg mine never. dries. out. I don’t know what witchcraft is involved, but it’s an amazing pen for long writing sessions.

Finally, if you’d like to try another Japanese-made pen that is a little more expensive than the Pilot MR or the Platinum Plaisir, there’s the Sailor Compass 1911. This is one of the cheapest Sailor pens I know of, and a good introduction to the brand. Keep in mind that, like Platinum, Sailor nibs will give more feedback than the Pilot you’re used to!

If you would like to push your budget even further, here are some options for fountain pens under $100 (I know, big jump, but it’s good to see what’s out there to you can compare!) from JetPens.

There are a million other brands out there that you can look at. Sheaffer makes great, very cheap and fun beginner pens (including a whole Star Wars Line! They’re adorable!). Hong Dian has a ton of pens that look sleek as hell (like the Forest Series) and they’re all like under 20 bucks. Kaco is another one that makes surprisingly good pens! Parker is also an option, with the Jotter, which is a classic-looking pen. There’s Conklin and Monteverde (which have a ton of fountain pens in a wide range of prices, but I’ve had bad luck with their nibs, so I would suggest you do some independent research on those!), as well as Noodler’s if you’d like to go crazy with some flex nibs! The fountain pen rabbit hole is bottomless. Welcome :D

As far as handwriting goes, I’m afraid I don’t have much more to say besides practice, practice, practice. I learned cursive as a child, but never got into calligraphy, really. Even today, I only just dabble, but whenever I see something I like, I usually just like to try and replicate it. Very often I’ll see a video on Instagram and go Oh my god, how the hell did they write that G, I’ve got to try that and then what follows is me going through page after page on a Rhodia pad trying to imitate them. I like janinescribbles and aidanbernal on Instagram, they’re like handwriting goals--check them out!

A lot of the time, we’re looking for more line variation to make our handwriting look prettier--that’s usually what you see in that fancy, old-timey Spencerian cursive, or even copperplate calligraphy. Unfortunately, you won’t get that with just a regular fountain pen, but there is good news!

There are a TON of different nibs out there. Stub nibs, fude nibs, flex nibs, obliques, cursive italic -- you can even get your pen ground by a professional nibmeister to fit your specifications. There are calligraphy pens (like the Lamy Joy) or pen sets (Kaweco has a Perkeo Calligraphy set, and I believe Sailor has one of their own as well). You can even check out the Pilot Parallel set -- the whole thing is like the price of a Lamy AL-Star, you just won’t do regular writing with it; it’s pretty specifically a calligraphy/lettering set. There are even flex pens in the market (though none of them are as flexy as those old, vintage gold nibs) like the Noodler’s Nib Creaper, Ahab, and Triple Tail or the Conklins with their Omniflex nib (which has been problematic in the past, but I’ve heard good things recently). It’s a whole other rabbit hole!

But honestly, don’t sweat the handwriting too much. Just write a few lines every day, try new things, and get lost for eternity on some Instagram tags!

I think this is a long enough post as it is, so I’ll stop there! SORRY. HOPE IT HELPS!

[2ofswords]

top 5: plays, words, chapters/fics you wrote,items of clothing you own, ships

That’s... a lot of questions. I’ll try...

Let’s talk theater!!!

Okay, for he first one… Are we talking written plays or shows? Because there are…. Very different answers there. I’ll just include both since a lot of my favorite theatre productions are not about specific texts. (I just like a lot of them so much and want to mention them!) Also note: I live in Germany and study German literature with a focus on theatre so there will be a lot of that.

5. Die Winterreise written by Elfriede Jelinek This one is actually about the text. I guess it is not the most provocative work from Jelinek but… the themes man… the themes. The whole “passing of time” and the sadness of it. It kind of goes through all seven stages of grief about it and… well it’s Jelinek so there is much more. The whole part about the lost father near the end that just goes on forever and doesn’t stop and it is so bleak and also melancholic and full of love that cannot be properly expressed an… god. Also the first page of this text is one of my favorite written pieces of… anything really. Sometimes I just read it to… read it. This play also started my interest in theatre studies! I wrote an essay about it out of spite! I was just really annoyed by everyone calling it autobiographical (which to be fair: it absolutely is) and basing the narrator only on Jelinek’s own life when the whole narration has her style of deliberate vagueness and can be applied a whole lot more interesting. But people only relying of autobiography aspects is a pet peeve in literature studies I have in general. (Yes, I am looking at you, people who cannot shut up about Franz Kafka’s father!!)

4. Kill your Darlings by René Pollesch I have to go with one Pollesch play and while I also really liked Probleme Probleme Probleme, this one just has some banger sentences and also an octopus costume. Which is all I ever needed in a theatre production.

3. Ibsen: Peer Gynt by Markus&Markus This one is not a written script but a play. And it’s a really interesting one. It follows a group of performance artists who spend a summer with a man who has dementia and they are trying to make a play about Peer Gynt from Ibsen with him as the main role. It is part of a series trying to find the characters Ibsen writes about in our time and this is the last part of the trilogy and… it really hits. It’s just… super interesting and the plot twist is… Good. There seems to be some debate around the play and the group in general (and I actually have seen one other play from them that I really didn’t like) but this one is genius and I think it handles the discussion with a lot of dignity. Also the connections to the actual source is super interesting. There are a lot of really amazing monologues in there too!

2. Les Robots ne connecaint pas le blues oder Die Entführung aus dem Serail by Gintersdorfer/Klaßen God… this one is so good! Sadly this is another one that was played by the group and cannot be seen anymore. But god… it’s a masterpiece! It’s an analysis of the opera “Die Entführung aus dem Serail” and applies a lot of postcolonial theory, queer studies, gender studies and just… personal experiences and viewpoints. It’s thorough, it has an amazing aesthetic, an entire opera orchestra and a Coupé-décalé dance-off… It’s just a blast and so fucking clever! I really love the analysis and style of Gintersdorfer/Klaßen in general and can really recommend the group!

1. Draußen vor der Tür (The man Outside) by Wolfgang Borchert Surprising absolutely nobody. This is definitely the play I loved most through school years. But let’s be honest here: It’s mainly number one because I made my own production of it with one of my university’s theatre groups and that was – no exaggeration – the best time of my life. The magical semester I had. It’s also really good and really sad though.

The other lists are under the cut because this post is getting too long!

Okay, what’s next. Words?

Uuuuuuh. I like words. I don’t really have… specific ones I love… Uuuuuuuummmm…. I’m going with German here. There is also some great English ones but… I know more words in German… Sorry… The other lists are written in English again!!

5. erwidert mein Lieblingswort, um “sagen” auszuweichen direct nach “fragt“ und „antwortet“. Erwiderungen geben einfach recht viel Dynamik in die Sache hinein und strukturieren Dialoge. Yay!!

4. jetzt Um… ich weiß, man soll keine Füllwörter benutzen… Aber an die Regel habe ich mich noch nie gehalten? Ich mag meinen Sprachrhythmus? Und „jetzt“ ist einfach super praktisch, wenn man eine zusätzliche Silbe braucht, aber einen schnellen Sprachfluss erzeugen will. Es setzt ein bisschen druck in den Satz und lässt sich dabei sehr schnell sprechen. Außerdem eignet es sich auch sehr gut, damit wörtliche Rede ein bisschen umgangssprachlicher klingt, ohne besonders umständlich zu sein. „Was machen wir denn jetzt?“ „Das kannst du jetzt echt nicht ernst meinen!“ „Ich habe jetzt aber wirklich genug von euch!“ Fun stuff.

3. demnach Ich hoffe niemand hier hat irgendwelche großen oder interessanten Worte erwartet… Das hier ist ein Hausarbeits-Wort! Argumente! Sie lassen sich zusammenführen! Und man kann dieses eine Wort benutzen, um von einem Punkt zum nächsten zu kommen! Es ist ein Wunder! Um ehrlich zu sein, bevorzuge ich es, dafür „in diesem Sinne“ zu benutzen, aber das ist kein einzelnes Wort.

2. Enzensbergerexegetenschelte I… am out of words: Aber hier ist ein wort, dass den Buchstaben „e“ ganze zehn Mal beinhaltet und in einem lustigen Gedicht vorkommt.

1. Oh.

 Okay, about my own fics:

I rarely revisit my fics so I will just see where my gut feeling takes me. Also if I talk chapters, I will only include one chapter by fic, so that this list doesn’t become my favorite Blank Rune Chapters.

5 Shenanigans by the sea (Pathologic Fanfiction) It’s so silly but also so happy and genuinely one of my best pieces of writing! Definitelly one of my better Pathologic fanfictions and what can I say? I like to write scenes with a lot of characters that I can switch around. It was super fun! Also lifeguard Saburov is still one of the best ideas I ever used for anything.

4 “Durchführung” in Nur ein Spiel („Execution“ in Just a Game? – Hungergames Fanfiction) Another chapter of my hunger games fanfiction and… well it’s one of the most memorable I would say. I remember that I absolutely loathed writing it because my personal favorite character died and also the favorite character of my best friend but… worth it tbh. The whole love confession in it is also…. Cheffs kiss.

3 How to play. A dramatic text in three acts (Pathologic Fanfiction) I think this is the best Pathologic fanfiction I wrote. It’s just… I can’t help but love it and it’s one of the very few pieces I actually reread from time to time. I love the wordplay in this one and I really love how it mirrors some more abstract forms of theatre and… I don’t know I just think it’s one of the few times I managed to write something really smart.

2 The Last Gebo-Chapter in The Blank Rune (Hungergames Fanfiction) It’s short but… I think it hits. Don’t even think it’s the best chapter from a technical view and also… not the one that hurts the most but… It has the exact sweetspot of hurt and loving it and I worked a long time to finally get to a point in the story where I was able to write it. Also that fucking last sentence…. It symbolizes a lot of what I wanted to do with Blank Rune.

1 Das Glasperlenhaus (The Marbles‘ Shed – Original Work) It’s short story of mine an I really really love it! It’s actually hard to say what it is about but I wrote it for a competition that had the theme “Haunted House”. I guess it’s about some guy who visit’s a pretty weird small house next to a park and how that house affects his life. And also there are a lot of marbles that get knotted into a string and I guess that is metaphor for life and death or something.

 Items of clothing I own

Oh! I have a lot that I really like!!

5 The one black dress with the flower ornaments!! It’s just so… insanely pretty! It’s more for special occasions and I need to be in the mood for wearing it but man… makes me feel very fancy and fairy like.

4 All of my woolen socks! They. Are. So. Warm! And my feet are very cold. Bonus points if at one point they got extended and now have completely different types of wool attached to them? I don’t know, I really love that!

3 The one grey jacket, that kinda looks like a biker jacket where the person who made it didn’t get the memo, that these are supposed to be made out of leather. It’s just a wacky item and still very much my style and very comfy. Also I need another leather jacket, my old of kind of… faded into nonexistence…

2 The blue outdoor jacket that kind of looks like one of the cloaks in kingdom hearts but some fool painted it dark blue and so it got thrown out of the world that never was and directly into… a tom tailor outlet store I guess Ummm… Much nostalgia, I guess? Also it has some fluffy clothing parts an is super warm and comfy…

1 … my binder Not really an explanation needed, huh… Just when binder days are there it’s amazing to have it and I feel awesome wearing mine.

 Ships

5-1 Evergreen’s Ever Given

[warriorsredux]

Do you still have the raw scraps, the scribbled notes, the heap of text documents, the outlines, the early drafts, the character/setting/narrative/whatever sketches you made when planning the Redux? If you do, can we have a look at them? I wanna see how Master Dullard does it.

Regrettably, all of that is on my old computer, and that bastard is not inclined to charge to let me get a hold of that stuff again. There are a couple sketches in an old sketchbook, but I have no idea which one (I have many old ones hurriedly shoved into a drawer so I can pretend they don’t exist). I faintly remember some things, and I’ll throw them here:

There were SO MANY documents trying to keep track of everyone’s personalities and roles in the story. Somehow I knew which ones were which. This is remarkable solely because I did not name a single document anything useful. 

Seriously, all the documents were random keysmashes, jokes, single words or lyrics, none of which had anything to do with their content. I always do this. I don’t know why. It’s not helpful. 

There were also documents dedicated solely to quotes and snippets of writing I wanted to eventually use in the story. Bluestar snapping at Darkstripe was written and rewritten several times because I wanted to get it just right, but it was in my head since the very first arc. Other ones were the first impressions of Scourge (noting his strange, jerky way of moving and unsettling stare among other things), several jokes and bits of banter between characters, and so on. I like to write down dialog when I have it in my head so I can perfect it over time. As a result, when the time comes to post it in the actual story, it’s as good as it can be. 

One bit of dialog that never got in that I did want to use was something along the lines of “We- we are bound by StarClan to-” “Damn all of StarClan”. This was meant to be with Fireheart and Bluestar, and was inspired by a near identical exchange in Vattu (which you all should read, by the way). I liked the idea of peppering in swears where effective, but I never really went down that road. Which I feel like I should have done? Oh well. Don’t matter now!

I had a sprite sheet of pixelated cats with the names of ThunderClan’s members. This was my initial way of trying to keep track of the bloodlines - the sprites would be connected to each other with lines. It was theoretically easier, but it just got overwhelming, so eventually I just used the sprites for my own reference of color. I did eventually get help with the familial ties, which... thank fucking God for that. Jesus. Those who helped me with genetics, colors and families, you are godsends. You know who you are.

One look through a random plot document would make it very clear that I have a very loose concept of “sticking to the script”. That is, I would write down how something happens, leave it, rewrite it because I forgot that version existed, combine the two or edit them haphazardly, then expand way over what I needed during the actual process of storytelling. For example, say a conversation was supposed to happen that would give plot relevant news, then we would move on to another event. I would end up writing that conversation with so many sidetracks and banter for the sake of it (casual banter is one of my favorite things within a narrative - it’s largely why I love ROTTMNT and Pulp Fiction so much) that the conversation would take over half of the chapter. This happened on so many occasions I cannot possibly list them all. You might as well count every single chapter I ever wrote for this fucking thing!

A lot of the worldbuilding given in response to asks was made up almost entirely on the spot. I had the answers in my head without my knowledge - they’d just come to me naturally when questioned, even though I hadn’t considered that part of the world - but that doesn’t detract from the fact that I was improvising quite a bit with a lot of the Redux. A lot. Most of it was improv. Is that apparent on a lookback?

That’s another thing - I didn’t write down a lot of the worldbuilding. Appearances, cultures, funerals, language stuff, a lot of it I developed it as I wrote the Amendment posts. I had vague ideas and notes in my sketchbook, but the specifics were made as I typed on the keyboard. That’s kind of how I roll with worldbuilding. It’s not a good idea. I’m amazed I didn’t contradict myself too hardcore in this universe.

That’s all I can think of for now. If you have specific questions, it might dredge up the memories and I can give a proper response, haha!

[ughitsnic]

Do you belive in fate?

Tom Holland x Reader , Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Chapter 4

You arrive at Harrison's house, a bottle of vodka and a bottle of coke in your hands

“I'm so glad you came” Harrison breathes a smile fixed to his face as he quickly pulls you into a tight hug.

“I brought these” you show him, pulling away already missing the contact.

“You didn't have to” he tells. “But this is my favorite” he smirks at you before leading you into the house, it was packed and almost immediately you spotted him, and your eyes lock. It is almost like out of one of those movies, at least 40 people packed into the house and the first thing you see is each other... except it was incredibly awkward.

“I'll introduce you to everyone” and of course Tom was the first person Harrison brought you over to.

“This is Tom, y/n- what?” Harrison shouts, looking over his shoulder and quickly getting distracted by someone calling him over. With a small apology Harrison leaves the both of you ‘alone’ together.

“Nice to see you again” Tom gives you a tight smile “I see you and Harrison are close” his tone was sharp, he looks away while taking a drink.

“Yeah kinda” you trail off, feeling awkward about the whole encounter, wanting it to end as fast as possible, you look back for Harrison and he was gone.

“Drink?”

“Yes please”

“Well they're over there” Tom scoffs

“Excuse me?” you snap, you were shocked to say the least.

“The drinks are over there, help yourself” he says louder, but just as annoyed as before.

Wow. You should have known it was too good to be true, of course he was a dickhead. You had had a few drinks and were talking to some girl called Lucy, she seemed nice but then again you thought Tom was. So maybe you aren't that good of a judge of character.

“I love your dress, seriously where did you get it from?” she asks as sways her hips to the music.

“I don't know, pretty little thing I think. I actually got it a while back” you explain.

“Well it looks gorgeous on you” she compliments, you were both sharing compliments, and exchanging social media.

“Oh my god, whose dog is that?” you question as it runs by.

“Toms I think, she called Tessa” you nod excitedly, watching the dog pick up a little stuffed frog to play with.

“Hey baby” you feel 2 large hands snake round your waist, pulling you against a muscular chest. Harrison!

“Baby?” you question, a blush creeping on your cheeks and a goofy smile fixed to your face.

“You don't like that?” 

“No I do, a lot” you smile. As the night progressed you got more and more drunk, maybe too drunk so by 1 am you decide to take a break from dancing on the coffee table with Lucy and go outside to get some fresh air to try sober up a little.

“What are you doing out here?” Tom was on the steps giving the dog a fuss.

“Your dog is really cute” you gush completely ignoring his question and sitting on the floor to give her a fuss, stumbling as you did, and she happily walks over to you wagging her tail.

“If you're staying the night keep it down” he demands before walking back inside. You stay out for a little longer, just enjoying petting the dog and cool breeze.

“There you are, are you coming to bed?” you simply nod and follow Harrison to your room.

“Why doesn't Tom like me?” you question, biting your lip. It had been nagging at you all night.

“What do you mean, he's the one who said you should come” Harrison recalls.

“You… you didn't want me to come?” you felt your heart drop, were you wrong about yours and Harrison relationship? If you could even call it that, was it a lot more casual than you thought?

“No, I didn't mean it like that baby” he sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling off his shirt.

“Then what did you mean?” you rebuke

“I- I well...” he trails off.

“I'm going home” you announce putting your shoes back on, annoyed. Maybe it was the alcohol that was making you so irritable all of a sudden. So you quickly decide to leave his room as fast as you could on your very unsteady legs before you caused an argument or said something you would regret.

“You’re not staying?” Tom questions, watching you storm across the living room towards the door.

“Uh no, I have to water my cacti in the morning” you shrug, really? That's the first thing you could come up with, cmon y/n. You watch him pick up all the empty bottles. “Do you want a hand?” you offer

“No, I'm perfectly capable” he assures you.

“Why are you being a dick to me? You're the one who invited me” your voice shakes as you struggle to hold back your tears, great now you were on the verge of tears. Mental note don’t drink vodka again, you think to yourself

“Why do you think?”

“Because of Harrison?” you question

“Yes because you're with him” he takes a deep breath “I guess I got my answer”

“What are you talking about?” you were now beyond confused. “Answer to what?” he drops the bag, letting out yet another long sigh rubbing his face.

“I physically cannot stop thinking about you, I don’t even know you and you’re fucking my best mate!” he kept his voice low. “But I can't get you out of my head” he whispers, taking a step closer to you. Oh?

ok i really wasnt happy with it last night so ive mad some little changes and i dont hate it as much. when i originally decided to write this i did it to improve my writing skills, but dont get me wrong i am actually having so much fun writing it. im just struggling with dialog i guess, but you have to practice to get better.

id love some feed back and if you wanna be added to the taglist lemme know

///

@sunflxwer99

[tarithenurse]

All is fair in Love & War - 15

Pairing: Loki x reader Content: Plotting, pining, maybe don’t imagine things too well if you’re afraid of heights. Some people being ass-holes. Some death and gore. A tad of panic (though no disco, sorry). Also! There will be some dialog with bracket within the citation – this is to signify it’s spoken in a different language. A/N: I’ve taken the liberty of tagging people who seem to follow, but if you do/don’t want a tag pls let me know. It seems there might be some issues with tagging which I couldn’t fix via app. Checking it now on laptop, it seems fine, but let me know if there are still problems.

15. Impatient

There is only one way in and out of king Gorm’s bed chamber. Officially. The door is guarded constantly by the only competent soldiers in the entire nation. This may have something to do with the comfort of their lives as well as that of their families because no other commoners, not even the servants, live as luxuriously or eat such fine meals. True, it is still grubby compared to anyone of noble blood, but if someone is granted the position as royal bodyguard, then his or her daily struggle is over. This of course results in two things. One is the mixed envy and disdain for whomever holds such a job. The other is your need to find a way past the guards or an altogether different way into the chambers.

That is why you find yourself dangling halfway out of a narrow window, trying to get the tri-hook securely attached to the balcony above. A clank sounds through the clammy night air, indicating that the thing at least has struck something, and as it and the rope does not begin a rapid descend towards you then you dare to breathe out a sigh of relief (it is the seventh attempt or more). Carefully, you pull the rope towards you until suddenly it stops. Carefully first. It seems to hold a light strain, so you put more of your weight behind it. Then more, and more, and eventually you are hanging free from the window.

A hissing voice come from within. “You test it, now you get back here!” Röskva reaches out to you, swinging you gently back into safety. “This no way for madama to behave!”

The young girl is endearing in her fury and you cannot help laughing a bit. “Well, then I should be fine doing it, shouldn’t I?”

“Shush! You want to be discovered?” Large, dark eyes have you pinned to the floor before she moves to look out of the window. Next moment she is back with a frown. “Now how you go get it back?”

“Relax, dear, that balcony is easily accessible from the corridor above which leads to the music room. No one would blame me for walking there.”

The girl is not quite convinced. “But at this hour?”

You manage to calm her down, but the Vanar is only satisfied once you are safely back in the guest chambers (rope and hook in hand).

What matters more. however, is that the little window with the balcony above is near identical to the layout by the king’s private sleeping quarters, so presuming you still know how to climb a rope there is now very little between you and a visit to Gorm. But what about the queen? At least the two have no children to inherit the throne, but the lady strikes you as the kind of wife that could become vengeful even without any sign of foul play. But I’m only going to have a look around.

Looking up from the array of lockpicks and other tools which you have been oiling, your eyes wander to the northern horizon. Somewhere out there is the one person who has managed to open your eyes and see the world for what it is. It was never you intention to let Loki have your heart, taking his in return, but here you are…and you will do anything in your power to keep him safe.

“Röskva?” There is a soft hum in response, and you continue in a broken attempt at Vanir. “(Jotun-king planning kill this king?)”

There is a rustle as the girl puts down the sewing she was working on, then the subdued sound of bare feet before she comes into view, taking a seat near the window. “(You know this.)”

“(He in danger if here.)”

“(Yes, madama.)” A deep frown is almost obscuring her eyes completely. “(What is it that you are plotting?)”

It is still harder to find the words than articulate the rolling R’s, but you plow on undeterred. “(Who become new ruler here?)”

“(There will be an –)“ she uses a word that carries little meaning to you until she explains it: election.

Of course, those eligible to vote would be the men of noble ancestry, but as for the candidates…they have to be approved by the heads of the dominant religions in Midgard, every commoner knows that the and priests, templars, and monks silently wants things to change for the better of the simple folk. Where else but to the gods have the people been able to turn to as things got worse for them? They have witnessed the suffering, tried to care for as many as possible while watching from first row how the court have gorged themselves.

“(Send my love word…he stay safe…I home soon.)”

…   LOKI’s PoV   …

Glass shards dance across the stone floor, capturing and refracting the light from the afternoon sun into a myriad of tiny rainbows, but the beauty of destruction is lost on Loki as he stares at the message in his shaking hand. Clearly, it is not written by [Y/N]. He would know her clumsy letters or runes anywhere. No this is writing is careful and tight to minimize waste of space, each word chosen carefully to be as precise as possible without revealing too much. This is in itself by no means alarming, as most of the messages about her are written by someone else, but the last words…

  I fear she will take your role.

As much as the king of Jotunheim had wished to be more closely involved, his part of the scheme is but a limited one despite the importance of it. The old him would have taken it as an offense if anyone, anyone at all, would consider taking over such a task regardless of their reasons for it because that Loki only would be blinded by a destructive notion of inadequacy and dismissal. But this Loki (the son of Frigga, Odin, and Laufey) king of Jotunheim feels none of that. Instead, it is a cold fear of another’s potential suffering that is making his world spin and hands shake. No coherent thoughts form in his mind, and once they appear, they are twisted into grotesque nightmares. If she does and she is caught... the distress is causing the trembling hands to change hue. They will imprison her. A chill which not even the fire can overpower steals into the room. Or maybe kill her on the spot. Tendrils of ice spreads across the floor from where Loki stands, coiling around and up anything in their path, and the flames in the hearth shrink visibly. A knock on the door startles him.

“My king…Thor has arrived.” The servant sounds particularly timid.

What?! It takes a conscious effort to keep his voice level. “Show him to the throne room.”

Finally becoming aware of the surroundings, the king breathes deeply in an effort to shackle his emotions. As he watches skin return to a humane hue and the destruction fade, leaving small puddles on the floor, a thought so outlandishly rash it makes his chuckle occurs to him. And who better than to help carry out this approximation of a plan than Thor?

…

Striding into the hall, he finds Loki standing by the roaring fire. The red coat nearly reaches the floor but does nothing to hide the muscular arms folded across the brother’s broad chest wrapped in armour of gold inlaid silvery metal.

“Thor, what a delight to see you here!” The smile Loki has plastered on his face is not entire fake.

Electric blue eyes reflect the heat of the fire as they land upon Loki for a second before another voice answers. Kind, warm, and familiar. The brothers could go anywhere in any of the realms and still recognize Frigga through the noise of the rowdiest place even if she spoke in a whisper.

“My son, I need you to listen to me now more than ever.” Stepping into sight, she reaches out for the younger of her children. “We have received the same message as you. I know what you want to do.”

The king of Jotunheim stays rooted in place, watching her hands fall before speaking. “Oh, really?” It is futile to challenge her, because Loki is her son more than Odin’s, but he will not have anyone stand in his way. “And what, pray tell, are my plans?”

“Brother, do not act foolishly,” Thor interjects, his voice a reminder of his powers, “if you go to stop lady [Y/N], then you risk exposing her not to mention abandoning your kingdom to an uncertain fate. Is that what you want?”

Where Frigga’s words merely had annoyed Loki because he knows that she sees more than others (not like Heimdal does, of course), Thor’s words stokes a fire deep within. A flaming rage similar to the one that flared upon hearing the Midgardian’s crude insult in the tent less than a fortnight ago. And this time the Jotun is fully aware of the red that begins to fill his eyes, a sight that would make cowards of most (and does at least make Thor frown)…but Frigga steps forward to take the cold hands in her own.

“Please, listen to me. Let me show you what I have seen.”

After a nod, she drags him to a seat. He lets her place his palm on her forehead, even bends slightly so she can reach his, before in- and exhaling slowly to regain a semblance of calmness.

The dark hall around them falls away, leaving them in an emptiness of opportunities until he relents control to Frigga, and glimpses of unknown places appear with one common denominator: [Y/N]. The first scene shows her slip behind a painting in the dead of night when only the stars light the castle’s interior. Next, she reappears in what appears to be a bathroom by pushing a panel in the pink and white wall aside, then tiptoeing across smooth stone which change to a fluffy carpet. She stops at a fourposter bed decorated with gold and pink lace, but he cannot see what happens there, only hear the spine-chilling sigh a few moments later. Then the scene changes and [Y/N] is dangling from a rope, a familiar stubborn expression on the upturned face. Next moment she stands on a balcony, knife in hand. Suddenly it is day, the court of nobles mingling about the familiar shape are at an uproar, but at least she appears safe.

“This is what can be,” Frigga’s voice fills the void that has surrounded them, “it is to prefer over this…”

Loki’s form is leaning over Magni’s neck, urging the horse on at a dangerous speed. He arrives at a castle without any attempt at disguising who he is, who he really is, and alarms sound everywhere causing guards to barge into a darkened bedroom styled in rich reds and greens where an unassuming man sits up in bed with a start and a familiar figure is caught sneaking in through a balcony door armed with a dagger. The next scene shows her too, in the same room and with the same soldiers and (Loki guesses) the king…but the only one alive is the Jotun despite the blood soaking his clothing and the many injuries he has sustained. Crimson eyes flare in the dark as he rocks the lifeless form of the woman he loves.

In reality, it is not Loki who is rocking, but he who is being rocked. Frigga is holding her son almost like she did when he was young and upset, and of course Loki realises this in much the same way that he is highly aware that Thor is watching, or that he has to keep the Jotun powers in check to avoid the risk of hurting either of the Asgardians.

Breathing deeply, the hard clench of his fists steadies him. “None of those futures are certain.” He knows a bit of how Frigga’s gift works.

“That is true.” But the sadness in her eyes is not subdued when their eyes meet.

“I assume you have conferred with Heimdal.”

It is Thor who answers, relenting the information that the Watcher has seen nothing alarming at Sjöblik as of yet. The tone is clear, tough. Both he and Frigga are trying to get Loki to stay put, inferring that he will be to blame for any ill events that may happen. If [Y/N] is harmed because of me…the risk alone is to great, and the dread it brings is strong enough that for once the Jotun is permeated by a cold as intense as the winters in these lands. It threatens to paralyze him, suffocate him in his own apathy. Never before has Loki felt this powerless, and he hates it with a passion almost comparable to the intensity of his love for the one person he is being asked to abandon to fate.

“There must be somethi–“ he begins desperately before being interrupted.

“Not now.” Frigga shushes.

A heavy hand lands on Loki’s shoulder. “Do not worry, little brother. You have trained this maiden of your well! I think she may yet surprise us pleasantly.”

…

Unsurprisingly, Frigga has had the foresight not to leave her son alone in Utgard, and as a result, Thor has been having a blast challenging anyone to spar until Loki relents. Now they are circling each other in the snowy courtyard while almost every Jötun in the keep watches from the sidelines. Mjölnir is standing neatly in a corner as per usual when the brothers brawl simply to minimize the risk of collateral damage (though it obviously does not eliminate it), and Thor is using a mighty sword in its stead.

They know each other well, rarely falling for the feinting jabs or swings. In truth, neither of them expect to win a match like this by means of weapons and crude violence although each participant is more than capable of slaying the strongest of foes if it were a real battle. Loki has never favoured brawn, always being reminded of his lesser size by his father and anyone else not fond of the dark-haired child. And Thor? He has the strength and he may not be as bookishly intelligent as Loki, but the God of Thunder is far from stupid, especially when it comes to tactics.

The first real move comes in a powerful sweep with the sword, developing out of a seemingly harmless jab, and Loki has to flatten his back onto the compacted snow as the blade hums through the air inches above his nose.

“Ah! Close one, brother!” Thor has been pulled around by the momentum, leaving the master of the keep time to regain both footing and breath. “This is a fine weapon!”

Loki sends a handful of throwing blades towards the blond’s unprotected back. “It is traditional for the Jötun clans of the northern plains.”

Each slim knife is deflected by either vambraces or the weapon in question, making Thor grin proudly. Keep laughing, brother mine. Behind the Asgardian, the snow transform into ice while collapsing in on itself, readying to launch a crystalline missile towards the unsuspecting fighter. Not yet. Rolling to avoid a new stroke, Loki reaches the rack with weapons available throughout the sparring session and grabs his favourite longer ranged weapon: a smooth spear of dark wood with silver and gold threads inlaid along the shaft. The tip is nearly black with the exception of the same threads weaving in and out of each other.

“I was wondering if you would keep relying on your toothpicks.” Blue eyes shine with mirth, teeth gleam like snow in sunlight.

A few jabs and a sweeping arch for Thor’s feet has the guest positioned perfectly for the surprise hidden in the snow. “Not at all,” Loki smirks, “I just deemed it polite to let you stand a chance.”

Clenching a fist suddenly, the sorcerer fires the icy missile. As if in slow motion, he sees it burst from the snow with deadly precision and it would have hit true if Thor had not had the wits to throw himself awkwardly to the side, now it merely grazes the warrior, sending him spinning into the heaps of snow. By the time his face reappears, it is met with the gleaming tip of a spear less than an inch from the nose.

“Loki…one,” the champion smiles.

Thor smiles undeterred, eager to continue the game as though he were a puppy. “Thor nil. Smart fighting.”

…   READER’s PoV   …

“What d’you mean they dis’peared?!”

King Gorm’s rage is echoing through the halls, causing the servants to scurry on with their heads down and the nobles present to attempt carrying on with their conversations although with slightly shrill voices. Standing by a tall window of stained-glass mosaics, the distress makes you smile despite the fat drop of rain that have been falling nonstop the last couple of days.

An answer is given and appears to be unsatisfactory. “NO! I’ll no’ ‘ave it,” the monarch nearly screams, “don’t you come spurtin’ tha’ kinda nonsense! I ‘spect nuttin’ less than p’fection! I want them punished! ALL o’ them!”

“But my lord,” finally the distressed voice of the military advice can be heard, “the few that did return, dutifully and with proo–“

“ALL o’ them! You think I dunno see wha’ ‘tis? Huh?! Lettin’ their mates wander off like tha’?!”

A shiver runs down your spine that has nothing to do with pettiness or the shill of the damp air. Whatever has happened (probably a regiment opting to desert) will now cause innocent souls suffering simply because the king acts like a spoiled child. Someone should send him to the front. Have him live under the same conditions as the lowliest soldier. It is a futile wish, of course. No one here will suggest anything that can cost them their own safety. Maybe they just don’t care about others?

...

[manifestoonmoralmanlove]

Help I’m being harassed by the #1 sexeist man! Review

Sorry I had this mostly finished on the backburner for awhile but Soulless grabbed my attention pretty hard.  BUT NOW THIS IS FINISHED! I hope you enjoy!

Summarize

So the story is as follows…Takato is an actor who was voted Japan’s sexiest man for a few years in a row. However his title is usurped by this dude named Junta that he’s working on a new movie with.  Takato is salty about this but is professional about it and just kinda harbors secret bitter feelings.  He is polite to and gives advice to Junta when asked.  Junta invites him out to drinks, Takato doesn’t want to but everyone within a 5 mile radius swoops in to pressure him into it so he caves.

GOD WHY IS THAT A THING? That for sure happened in Love Stage and I’m sure I’ve seen that trope elsewhere.  Where not just a 3rd party will pressure a reluctant uke but like a fucking horde of strangers with nothing to gain from it just crawl out from under the fucking floor boards like little hack-handy roaches to advance this shitty plot.

ANYWAY!

Junta gets Takato drunk, films embarrassing stuff that he threatens to blackmail him with, and a fucking horror scene of a rape ensues.  Like, not dissimilar from Junjou in the fact that the atmosphere is drawn as oppressive, the uke is riddled with very palatable fear, the seme wears crazed expressions, and behaves violently.  Hell, Takato manages to shove him off and tries to lock himself in the bathroom for his own safety but Junta rips the door off its fucking hinges. Takato PLEADS like BEGS for him not to but he is violently raped against the wall while Takato cries saying OUT LOUD that THIS IS RAPE!  Afterwards he’s crying and shaking, talking out loud about how he’s frightened if others find out and feeling humiliated.

Junta picks him up and is like, “Man I guess I got carried away, but like REAL TALK I have a crush on you. The rape was kinda bad I guess, but it’s not my fault cause I literally cannot control any of my actions. I can prove I like you by having gentle sex with you in the bed.”

Takato agrees to this.

I BEG YOUR FUCKING PARDON?!

The implication here is that Junta just looked SO SWEET! But like also it wasn’t gentle sex at all and Junta is going to continue to blackmail him. HAR HAR!

Like here is a hot fucking take authors and fans of this particular type of garbage… that kind of writing does not make this more consensual and okay.

Like if you threw a dude in a pit full of scorpions, and he is being stung by a thousand stingers and the poison is slowly and painfully shutting down all of his bodily functions and it’s all really gruesome…but then someone asks if he wants to be saved and the dude in the pit goes from screaming in agony to saying, “Actually I like it down here.”

Does that mean being pushed into that pit, and what he went through in that pit is okay? NO

What does him suddenly wanting to marry all of those 1000 scorpions mean?

IT MEANS YOU’RE A FUCKING HACK WRITER WILLFULLY CONTRIBUTING TO RAPE CULTURE FOR A QUICK BUCK YOU HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

Like you can have your stories where a rapist is redeemed from his awful actions, but more often than not I see these fucking outrageous hairpin fucking turns in writing.  

I mean, Junta does apologize?  Which is better than some semes but honestly I’d rather him not even bother because he’s not sincere.  He apologizes all the time for the sex acts he puts Takato through but goes on to blackmail him, hurts him, abducts him, and threatens him to his face with more rape. LIKE NOT EXACTLY FEELING AS IF YOU TOTES CARE ABOUT HOW HE FEELS ABOUT ALL THIS, BOYO!

The next chapter while they’re being filmed for the show Takato throws him against the wall and hijacks the dialog to make it sound sexually threatening.  Takato IN HIS MIND ADMITS “DAMN HE’S ACTUALLY USING ENOUGH FORCE TO HURT ME!!!!”  So after this shot, Takato gives Junta some advice and makes no shit, this fucking face…                        

And that…face, (improperly attached to what I presume is a series of straws coated in plaster masquerading as a neck)  gives Junta that GOTTA RAPE NOW BONER!

So that’s what happens, he just violently drags off a kicking and screaming Takato in the middle of shooting and no one bats a fucking eye. SEEMS LEGIT!  What’s baffling to me is they don’t even draw a sex scene for this.

MY BRO, WHAT IS EVEN THE FUCKING POINT THAN OF ALL THESE RAPE SCENERIOS IF THERE AREN’T HIDEOUS MELTING FACES AND WACKY INFLATABLE TUBE MAN BODIES TO GO WITH IT!?

But afterwards Junta says the classic creepy shit, “Give up already and become mine. I have no intention of giving you to someone else.” WE KNOW THE DRILL!

Takato looks up at Junta and goes, “Yeah guess I love this dude.”

AND LIKE FOR WHAT? FOR HUH? WHAT’S GOING ON HERE!?!!??!?!?!?!?

But also, are you fucking joking here? Like I’m not into the 10 volumes of “Am I gay or not?” bullshit we get in yaoi. But, depending on the pace and characterization, there’s nothing wrong with dragging out the love being 100% mutual. Here’s it’s in chapter fucking 2.  Even Junjou went at a slower pace than that.  When I read that I couldn’t help feeling like, “WELL WHAT’S THE CONFLICT IN THE NEXT 3 AND A HALF VOLUMES GOING TO BE?”

Which, admittedly is unfair, there can be lots of relationship conflict outside of mutually expressed love…However for a rapist/tsundere dynamic? That’s usually at least 75% of the conflict.  But oh, maybe this means we’re going to get different kinds of drama!  So even while it’s not good, we’re going to get something different!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

It’s utter NOT-CONFLICT is what we end up with.  3 different chapters are, “I haven’t seen much of him, that must mean he’s bored of me. Wah! Oh it turns out he was just busy. Oh that’s good.”  PAGING FUCKING JUNJOU WITH THAT SUPER FUN, ENGAGING, AND INTERESTING CONFLICT HARDY FUCKING HAR!

Then we take a hard right into sorta worst rapist territory.  What do you mean by SORTA worst rapist Faps?

Well……

There’s a new actor Takato is working with and this new actor, and the new actor’s coding as a bad guy is about as subtle as a punch to the mouth. So new actor gets Takato drunk enough for him to pass out, gives him a hickey and ????????????

2 things happen in these situations in yaoi typically

1.)    SOMEHOW the seme MAGICS his way there beats up the worst rapist

2.)    This happens after the uke and seme have a fight. So uke realizes how mean he was for not being 100% down with all the seme’s shitty behavior cause there is a worst rapist out there. He runs crying to the seme apologizing and conflict solved.

We sorta get the 2nd here…but not in a straight-forward way.  For one there is no fight beforehand to set up any kind of relationship development.  What happens is that Takato wakes up mortified at the possibility he was raped while he was asleep.  He staggers around both in denial and utter shame.  Seme shows up and like only adds to this panic by yanking him around, forcefully washing his body, and screaming that his SLUTTY, SLUTTY FACE MANIPULATES MEN into raping him.  The seme tells him that they don’t have to have sex.  Which good, but I mean the scene is not framed as if Takato is doing this out of kindness but almost as a dare. The implication being if Takato doesn’t consent that he is the OTHER MAN’S BOY NOW and they should just break up. So there is implicit pressure there, but he does seem to initial consent.  Yet during the sex Takato internally cries about how much he hates it because his boyfriend is hate fucking him but he can’t say NO because than his boyfriend will hate him more.

LIKE FUCKING BIG YIKES MY FRIEND! IT’S SUPER UNCOMFORTABLE!

Which like, I could see a post-assault sex scene full of the emotional intensity of the anger, guilt, shame, fear all intermingling within both of them working well. (Not that post assault consensual sex is much of a thing.)  That they’re trying not to think of what Takato went through but it’s eating at both of them.  THAT COULD BE A REALLY INTENSE, WELL DONE SCENE!  However this is framed like seme ~taking back what’s his~ in a really cold, pissed-off way that’s AT BEST really insensitive to what the uke just went through and his current emotional state.  While Takato ~letting him~ cause he’s afraid his bf hates him for getting raped by someone not him.  Junta also disappears without a word, making Takato fear that YEP HIS BF DON’T WANT HIM CAUSE HE’S DAMAGED GOODS NOW!

But who has to apologize? THE UKE!

Also it turns out Takato was not raped cause worst rapist couldn’t get it up after Takato said his bf’s name in his sleep.  This is framed as better not cause of what the uke went through, but he didn’t really CHEAT so Junta can forgive him.

LIKE REALLY MY DUDE? YOU STARTED THIS OFF WRITTEN TAKATO MORE REALISTICALLY DEALING WITH THE DENIAL, DISGUST, AND SHAME OF ASSUALT AND INSTEAD JUST DEGRADED INTO THE SAME VICTIM-BLAMING HORSESHIT! GET FUCKED!

So the resolution is that the relationship is fixed and Junta threatens and blackmails the rapist. Which, I’m glad he didn’t get off scot-free but those interactions felt less like protecting the safety of Takato and more like, HE’S MY PROPERTY NO TOUCHY!

So from here we take a big turn.

Most of the 3rd volume is a big back-track to the beginning of their relationship before it was romantic or sexual.  And boy howdy it feels like a retcon for the fuck awful pace of the 1st volume.

Basically it’s about how Junta became obsessed with Takato while working on a movie cause idk he’s pretty and he accidently heard Takato say something shitty about him once. While I wouldn’t call this good the fact that they actually let this blooming of affection take place makes it the best chapters so far.

Like at the end Junta resolves himself to let his feelings be known and to start a romantic relationship with Takato.  Without the context, that felt like almost sweet? That he’s accepted his gay feelings and wants to share his life with Takato.  However if you REMEMBER THE CONEXT it means that Junta planned to drug, blackmail, and rape Takato WHICH YANNO REALLY TAKES A SHIT ON YOUR CUTE LITTLE FEATHERS BLOWING IN A BREEZE TO GO WITH HIS CUTSY MONOLOG YOU SHIT-SUCKER!

But lordy the next chapter comes along which is a retelling of this prequel from Takato perspective. The only saving grace here is that it’s not nearly as long as Junta’s.  Basically Takato realizes that Junta is OUT for him, and has a fucking frightened panic attack in his car afterwards. He’s literally shaking and monologing about how scary the situation and Junta are.  And this isn’t me even inferring words in Takato’s head, he repeats scary over and over.  Takato even decides to over book himself so he’ll have fewer chances to interact with Junta. So he does the classic ~pass-out from overwork~ thing so Junta can save him and from here we immediately transition to,

Oh now it’s modern day and they’re banging…..okay????? VOLUME ENDS

The next plot point comes down to this:

Paparazzi are OUT TO GET THEM! There is a photo leaked that isn’t really suggestive at all and Takato pretty much loses his job for it. However Takato finds out there is a much more damning picture of him and Junta, so he decides to break up with Junta, and like…just literally do whatever the paparazzi wants in order to protect Junta. But like, what’s the point of hiding it from Junta? And if this dude is going to blackmail you, what are you going to do to make sure their demands end or don’t get to the point that they’re unfeasible to continue giving in to them?

HAHA OH WELL!

Takato doesn’t even get to see the paparazzi again, his producer finds out and sexually assaults him to PROVE A POINT!

AND BOY HOWDY I’M WAY INTO THAT TROPE! LOOKING AT YOU OURAN HOST CLUB!

Cause HAHA nobody could literally want anything out of a wealthy, well-connected actor other than gay rape amirite?

Meanwhile Junta is cultivating a rumor that he’s having an affair with an actress.  Cause of fucking course Junta figured that the only reason his boyfriend (whom is often upset at how shitty he gets treated by him) is an elaborate ploy to protect him from the paparazzi.  But you know OF COURSE we see the actress and Junta flirting a bunch to stir the pot in a private setting but like…they only need to be seen on an outside date once.  This means that he’s fucking lying if he says that he only did it to SAVE BOTH OF THEM FROM THE PAPARAZZI.  He was getting a kick out of it, which I think you could argue that he was being unfaithful or in the very least being a fucking dick about it.

But, Junta goes on TV and says that he’s not having an affair with the actress or with Takato but he is moving in with Takato.

Yeah nothing dispels rumors of an intimate relationship like the announcement that they’re MOVING IN TOGETHER!  Now, as I understand it, the housing market is very different in Japan from the west and therefore it’s less of a huge TELL of an intimate relationship if two people move in together.  But even if that’s the case, saying you’re moving in with someone you’re accused of having an affair with…is not helping my friend.

However it is phrased this way, and immediately the entirety of the media believes this whole-heartedly, and the paparazzi guy (despite having a much more damning picture he hasn’t released) is like, “Wowzers he’s so smart, he has BEAT ME! I’m giving up being paparazzi.  That man CHANGED MY LIFE FOR THE BETTER! HOW COULD I EVER THANK HIM!?”  Even the fucking company that hired this paparazzi guy is like, “WELL I’M TAKING MY BUSINESS IN A NEW BETTER DIRECTION! THAT JUNTA GUY SURE, SHOWED ME!!!!”

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING!? You might as well have every criminal in Japan throw their hands up going, “WELL GOLLY!  DID YOU SEE HOW GREAT THE ACTUAL RAPIST AND ABUSER JUNTA IS? BEST NEVER DO A BAD THING EVER AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

GO EAT EVERY DICK!!!!

That’s pretty much the end up to this point.  I mean, there are some odds and ends chapters here and there but they’re pretty much excuses for sex chapters. And like, even though those are pretty rapey, I kinda respect them more than when you attempts to interject some semblance of relationship drama, cause holy hell that paparazzi shit ugh.

Though if you’ll allow a side rant from me about how the story treats sexual assault. According to the author it comes in a lot of flavors and most of them are awful.

For one: if it’s a hunky guy who loves you: Rape is great.

For two: if it’s a hunky guy but you already have a rapist errr boyfriend: You’re cheating.

For three: if you’re being obnoxiously sexually harassed by your superior….BUT YOUR PRODUCER IS AN OLDER EFFEMINATE GAY MAN: It’s hilarious and harmless and helps cement your Marty-stuness.

For four: if a woman is being groomed by a superior: It’s a bad thing that should be stopped.

3 and 4 happen within the same chapter but the author is so oblivious at the hypocrisy of the framing it’s absurd.

Story

Okay so the story is a mess. The relationship progression goes way too fast for it to make sense, and negates a lot of the drama you could have had.  It’s possible that the editors wanted sex ASAP for some kinda quota, and that’s not necessarily bad. But it really burns my biscuits when people think, “Oh that means lead with rape and that they’ll be in mutual love by chapter 2.”  

Sure most tsundere stories have a bit more lead up until the uke can confess he likes the seme back but this is not the right way to break that mold. The hairpin turn makes no sense and neuters a lot of potential conflict.

It puts the comic in a pacing hole to start and the rest of the story does little to mitigate this. I think there was an attempt to rectify this by going back to the story BEFORE they were a couple.  However that was horrible botched as well.  It brings the pacing to a screeching halt with a volume of Junta being like “OH NO HE’S HOTTTTTTTTTTT” despite the time devoted they do very little to give them an actual relationship or investment in his personality. It’s all a one-sided pining boner for hideous wiggle mouth.

The content of the writing is just embarrassing too.  I can be a more forgiving in the sex-excuse side chapters.  But like there’s a side chapter when Junta is magiked into a child and for like what? So we can coo, that the author drawing a small snowman with a poorly defined face and pretending it’s a child is super adorable?

So we can excuse the shitty way Junta behaves?  Is anybody weirded out that 3 year old Junta is more thoughtful and respectful than his adult-self?  YOU CAN’T EVEN WRITE HOW CHILDREN BEHAVE YOU STUPID SIMP! UGH!!!!

But also the arc on the paparazzi just ended in a total train-wreck of awful writing no question.

Sexual politics:

They’re fucking atrocious here.

1.)    The first scene is framed as a brutal rape but 30 seconds later its fine and they’re in love.

2.)    The handling of the ~worst rapist~ trope with big buckets of victim blaming and as if Takato was ~cheating~ is horrendous.

3.)    The worst rapist is also a sex worker.  So we’re framing sex workers as bad people and sex work as a bad thing. BUT GOLLY KEEP DRAWING GRAPHIC SEX SCENCES!

4.)    The sexually predator producer of Junta being framed as harmless cause he’s effeminate is god fucking awful.  It’s also this bizarre homophobic double standard that this man (and by extension his gay brother) are a joke because they behave stereotypically gay and aren’t ashamed of being effeminate.  MEN ARE ONLY HOT IF THEY ACT LIKE PREDATORS IN A MANLY WAY, OR ARE ASHAMED OF ANY SEXUAL SUBMISSIVE OR EFFEMINATE TRAITS THEY HAVE! I LOVE WATCHING MAN ON MAN SEX BUT SO HELP ME GOD IF THEY’RE ~GAY ABOUT IT!~

5.)    They ~sorta~ take sexual harassment seriously when a female actor is being groomed. Like they joke about it but also DO SOMETHING TO STOP IT really fucking muddles what we’re supposed to think about sexual abuse at all here.

6.)    Takato’s producer sexually assaults him to ~prove a point~ that Takato is putting himself in situations where rape COULD happen.  The fuck is this horseshit! “These men could do the very bad thing of raping you. Let me demonstrate what that bad thing looks like cause I’m sure you’re UNAWARE!” THE FUCK!?  Also this sexual assault is framed more seriously than Junta’s producer because this producer is coded as MORE ATTRACTIVE and less openly QUEER! ONCE AGAIN I EXCLAIM! THE FUCK!?

7.)    Takato OPENLY describes Junta as scary and calls his acts stalking, kidnapping, bullying, blackmail, threats, and rape.  He also tries to actively avoid his boyfriend at times, yet are we not to take ANY of this seriously?  Are we not to take this seriously cause this behavior is acceptable when the one dolling it out is attractive and charming?  Are we not to take it seriously because we can’t except Takato to be honest about how he feels about any of this?  I don’t believe in given a blanket free-pass when Takato doesn’t consistently express desire in Junta’s abusive tendencies.  Like maybe you can argue some of the sex is consensual but can you argue that Takato is into the blackmail, when he never mentions he likes it? Can you argue he’s into the non-stop attention when he SOMETIMES BEGRUDINGLY admits he enjoys it?  If so does just that get a blanket pass?

JUST UGH! YOU’VE GUYS HAVE PROBABLY HEARD THIS RANT FROM ME BEFORE I FUCKING HATE TSUNDERE SEXUAL POLITICS!

 Characters

Takato

Okay so Takato. What’s this dude’s deal?  

Okay let’s start with some boring basics:  He’s a hard-working actor who strives to be professional.  He’s a perfectionist, who seems to easily and joyfully take on the role of mentor/protector. He does seem to take himself too seriously at times. He appears to subtly prod at people who have wronged him or others rather than confront them directly. He’s also shown to be a tsundere with a submissive streak.

There’s nothing bad on its face about this characterization.  However Takato is described as an intelligent professional actor, with years of experience.  Yet his handling of the paparazzi thing is pretty much he goes to shit and opens him up to more rape cause lol hot.  I could maybe understand this characterization if the paparazzi thing really hit Takato on a personal level and he made some irrational choices due to feeling as if he was being attacked or that he was going to permanently lose his job.

However he is shown as calm, as he’s making these choices and openly states that he will gladly give up a career he worked so hard for if it would save Junta’s career. Did he not, even for a second consider he could save both of them?  This is not consistent with his characterization and it exists to put Junta on a pedestal he does not deserve.

SPEAKING OF…

Junta

So…this fucking guy. Junta is a young up and coming actor with early success.  He’s shown to be an impulsive, passionate person who relies heavily on an ~angelic charm.~  He has no shame in using calculated, underhanded methods in order to achieve his goals.  He is shown as impatient, has a temper, and is openly disrespectful to his partner.

Yet the world fawns over him with praise for how attractive, charming, and ~resourceful~ he is.  He is described as having a few low wage jobs out of high school and therefore he’s an expert in EVERYTHING FOREVER!

I believe they were trying to humorously contrast Junta having a sweet, innocent angelic charm, with the reality of him being an aggressive a-hole.  However they do not frame the aggressive a-hole side of him as bad but rather as HOT.  Like I GET THAT on some level but since he’s a manipulative, abusive, rapist, it just reminds me of all the REAL LIFE INDIVIDUALS who put on a good face for the public but to their partner they’re monsters.

Art

I legit hate this fucking art. Like straight up and down, I have a hard time even reading it on a visual level.  Like the anatomy is OKAY and the backgrounds are OKAY but a lot of it is less than okay. The worst culprits are the character designs, the necks, and the expressions.  

I am so done with mediocre artists churning out, not only same-faced characters compared to their own art, but characters that are basically same-faced compared to the main-stream.  The only thing unique here is that Junta has dark hair underneath his lighter brown hair. OH GOLLY!  It’s so fucking bland and Junta’s got best seme in the Chil Chil awards and I’m so salty about that I could give the dead sea a run for its money. UGH!

The necks are super long, thin, twisty, sharp angels, and with her sad attempts at tendons it looks as if they’re constantly tense.  And in worst case scenarios they don’t look as if they’re attached to even half of the chin. Yeesh!

The expressions…fucking lord.  In the best of times, the facial spacing is just bad, with eyes and mouths off center, and ears too low.  The author has no concept of how lips/faces work so all the kisses are REAL BAD. It’s either just like…triangles smashed at each other, no lips involved, or they’re like 1 foot apart layering their tongues on each other like they’re building a fucking sandwich.

The worst of times is Takato’s sex faces.  THEY MAKE ME WANT TO VOMIT-SCREAM!

Basically he squints and his eyes get so watery it looks as if they replaced his eyeballs with just well…water.  You can’t make out pupils, irises, NOTHING!  But the mouths are the pinnacle of puke-inducing.  They’re these enormous squigglies with no rhyme or reason, just oozing saliva like a breach in a dam. At best they’re cartoonish in an unerotic way. THESE SQUIGGLES! I CAN’T STAND THEM!  YUCK!

TL;DR

Poorly drawn and written Rapist/Tsundere garbage.  While it doesn’t hit EVERY little overplayed trope, it’s still pretty cliché.  Just, it’s similar and up there with Junjou in the shitty department if you ask me.