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kiy-anna · 1 year ago

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Am I Feeling Love?

Part 1 (You Are Here) Part 2 Part 3a Part 3b

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: From the moment Azul Ashengrotto heard of soulmates as a small child, he had a vision of a beautiful life with someone who was meant for him - regardless of what he was or would become…

Word count: 5.3k+

Warnings: Some Yandere elements

Notes: I wanted to thank @yanderloversworld on tumblr for the yandere!Azul w/ Soulmate S/O headcanons/backstory that I saw for inspiring this piece. I’ve never written anything like this before, but I wanted to give my hand at it - especially since it involves my favorite cecaelia character from twisted Wonderland. You can check it out here: https://www.tumblr.com/yandereloversworld/718766985773760512/yanazul-with-a-soulmate-so?source=share

The two songs used to inspire this story:

Am I Feeling Love? (The Thief and the Cobbler/Arabian Knight Soundtrack): https://youtu.be/NXYnClTZ4QY

One Day She'll Love Me (The Emperor's New Groove Soundtrack): https://youtu.be/8Sv3ECj7PdY

***I have an update! Part 2 now Available to read on my side blog @ashensgrotto***

***

I close my eyes and see his eyes

So soft and warm and clear

I dream awake of holding her

I dream that she’s right here

I sense in all his silences

More than his words could say

‘Don’t fight your feelings’ says my heart

A heart I will obey

***

“Azul… we need to talk.”

The sound of his mother’s broken voice pulled Azul’s attention to the larger cecaelia as all eight of his tiny tentacles stilled, each and every one of his appendages dropping an assortment of books, quills, and shells to the grotto’s floor as the silver-lavender haired boy looked upon his mother. The typically confident cecaelian now appeared scared and upset; her pale baby blue eyes were wide with worry and her ruby lips were set in a straight line - her heavy-set body swayed with the current that entered their home while her black-colored tentacles fidgeted nervously, the lavender underbelly of each appendage curling into itself repeatedly before releasing its grip on emptiness.

Azul stood, his own appendages curling inward, “Can this wait, momma? I’m very busy at the moment-”

“I’m afraid it can’t, baby,” his mother entered his room before perching herself on his bed, tapping the seafoam cushion, “come here.”

Azul sat beside his mother, looking down at his hands before looking up at his mother, who watched him with interest.

“Zully… the neighbors have told me they’ve seen you sneaking out at night,” his mother spoke quietly, “and it has been apparently going on for a while - without my knowledge. You and I both know that night is a terrible time to be going out, especially alone - you’re smart enough to know that you could’ve been seriously injured or killed by the creatures that lurk just beyond the reef of our city. Do you know how heartbroken I would be if I lost you?”

“I know, momma… but, I promise I have a good reason!”

“What good reason would you have for sneaking out in the middle of the night?”

“My soulmate.”

His mother looked taken back, her hand reaching to clutch the Nautilus shell necklace that rested on her collarbones as her already wide eyes widened further, “...S-Soulmate?”

“Yes!” Azul’s powder-blue eyes sparkled like gems in a treasure chest as a huge grin spread across his features, “I overheard some of the merkids talking about them at school a few weeks ago - o-of course I had initially thought they were talking about me, since I seem to come up in conversation here and there… but still! Oh, momma! To know that there’s someone out there that is literally MEANT to be WITH ME! Me! Azul Ashengrotto!”

“Zully, now wait a minute-”

“At first the concept did fascinate me,” Azul continued, slowly standing and moving to the opposite end of his room while ignoring his mother’s words, “and what intrigued me more than anything was that my soulmate would love and cherish every last thing about me - not the way the other merkids see me as; a pathetic, fat… ugly crying octopus fry that can’t even excel in studies or athletics. The silly little octo-twerp that’s an ink spiller.”

“Zully, you know that’s not-”

“But you know what momma? Thinking about my soulmate has made the days so much easier, even when I’m getting bullied - I think about them seeing what those other merkids are doing and they put a stop to it, saying things like, ‘Leave Azul alone! He’s not a pathetic little octo-twerp!’” Azul turned to his mother again, his tentacles writhing with excitement, “So, to be ready to meet them, I’ve been working to increase my knowledge - I want to be so powerful like the great Sea Witch herself that my soulmate will know who I am by sight alone! I’ve studied every book I could get my hands on and have memorized every single potion recipe there is available - even learning how to improve its effects and prolong them even! I’ve even studied every law text there is in the Atlantica public library - I have every law memorized word for word.”

His mother sighed, running a hand through her silvery locks, the motions creating little bubbles that appeared as she let out a sigh, “Azul, there’s something you should know-”

“As for the sneaking out,” Azul continued, throwing his hands behind his back as his fingers twisted together while he rocked back and forth on the edges of his eight appendages, “I was searching for my soulmate. I don’t know if they are here in the Coral Sea or not-”

“Azul, please listen to me-”

“But I wanted to see if I could find them. The first few nights after learning about their existence, I was having trouble sleeping - so I started doing a short swim to clear my head. I promise I wasn’t going too far away from the house! However, on those walks, it got me thinking that maybe instead of sleeping, I should be searching for them. There was no better use of my time than to strive for a better life with someone who must sense my loneliness like I sensed theirs…”

“...If they weren’t so rare, baby.”

Azul snapped to attention, his eyes wide, “W-What?”

His mother rested one hand on her knees while the other rubbed at her forehead, “Zully, I know and understand your longing to belong and to have a friend - trust me, I’ve been there. However, you can’t fixate on a single being that you hope to encounter at some point in your life. Finding that so-called ‘other half’ is like - well - like the story of the mermaid princess and her longing to be with a human. It’s a rare occurrence that only happens once in a millennium if not longer. Many times, people - humans, fae, and merfolk alike - often settle for someone they are content and happy with, someone that isn’t their other half.”

Azul stared in shock, inky tears threatening to spill down his chubby cheeks, as his hands balled into fists, “No! No! That isn’t true! What about you and daddy when he was alive?! Both of you were soulmates!”

“No we weren’t… At least, I don’t think we were,” Azul’s mother came forward, resting a hand gingerly on her son’s shoulder, “Anyone can be happy with or without their soulmate, Azul. There’s no reason you should go to such lengths to be with someone who may not even exist. You may not even meet them in this lifetime, either…”

“THAT’S NOT TRUE!” Azul pushed her away, anger bubbling up as his tentacles writhed in anger, his vision becoming blurry as ink spilled down his face as he snapped at his mother and guardian, “HOW DARE YOU!? You DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT the CONNECTION BETWEEN SOULMATES! THEY FEEL AS I FEEL! THAT CONNECTION IS WHAT MAKES US UNIQUE!! An UNBREAKABLE BOND that CAN NEVER BE SEVERED!! And how DARE you CHEAT on your OWN SOULMATE!”

“Azul! Now wait a minute!” his mother raised her voice, “I’ve been around the bend a few more times than you have and know about these sorts of things. I WILL NOT ALLOW this behavior to continue in my house!”

“Fine! Then I’ll leave!”

“Azul! Where are you going?! Azul!!”

But the little cecaelia was gone, swimming as fast as he could away from his mother’s typically loving embrace.

‘How could she?!’ he mind was running as he sped up to get further and further away from his home, ‘How could she say that? Why momma… why?!’

He was sniffing hard when he arrived at his hidden octopot, big ugly fat tears of black rolling down his chubby cheeks while mucus dribbled down his nose, running into his open mouth as he gasped out big grotesque sobs. He pulled himself along enough to climb into the pot, his appendages pulling him into the confined space as comfort slowly surrounded his shaking form. One tentacle came forward, wiping at the tears in his eyes as Azul allowed his hearts to calm down.

He wrapped his arms around himself as he looked out into the darkness of the Coral Sea; the pale moonlight reflected off the caverns that surround Azul’s hiding spot, the water growing colder and colder with each passing hour as several sea creatures passed over - not that Azul noticed though. Normally, he would have been interested in what creatures came out at night - but the words his mother spoke forced a jolt of pain on all three of his hearts.

“You can’t fixate on a single being that you hope to encounter at some point in your life,” her words echoed in his mind over and over, “Finding that so-called ‘other half’ is like - well - like the story of the mermaid princess and her longing to be with a human. It’s a rare occurrence that only happens once in a millennium if not longer. Anyone can be happy with or without their soulmate, Azul. There’s no reason you should go to such lengths to be with someone who may not even exist…”

‘What if she’s right?’ he thought, his tentacles tightening around his body, ‘What if I never find them? What if they think the same way she does? What if… what if they’ve already been taken from me?!’

His eyes narrowed as a darkness slowly filled them, glaring out into the cruel twisted world from the darkness of his octopot. No, even if his soulmate was already claimed he would’ve known - he would know if they were, he’d felt it; the tangling of another soul within his if his other half were to be mated to another without his consent. However, that hadn’t happened yet.

…for now.

Azul curled deeper into himself, his thoughts growing darker and darker as he made plans to continue his search for his other half; his beloved soulmate. He wouldn’t give up the search, even if he died trying. He wanted to see them; see what they looked like and to hear their sweet voice, to feel a sense of belonging… to protect what was rightfully his.

***

I'd never imagined before that the world could be turned on its head

I'd never have thought to be here in this place

I'd never have dreamt that in love I'd be lost and so easily led

I guess I was caught by that hint of a smile on her face

***

“Azul-chan, are we almost finished here?” a figure on the cecaelian’s left muttered, “I’m bored.”

“Floyd,” the figure on Azul’s right spoke up, murmuring and pressing a finger to his lips, “There are still some students that need to be housed. Just be a little bit more patient.”

“Speaking of which,” Azul eyed the two carefully, “Any news from our sources, Jade?”

“It’s rather difficult to track down something when we ourselves don’t know what we’re looking for,” the second figure - Jade - answered softly, “A description usually helps in these circumstances, Azul.”

“Perhaps,” the cecaelian shrugged indifferently, “however, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what I’m looking for, myself.”

The two second-in-commands looked at each other, confusion crossing their features.

Ten years had passed slowly since that terrible day when Azul’s mother planted the first seeds of doubt into her son’s head, her chiding and the doubts never leaving him completely. However, that did not stop him from continuing his search for his other half - exhausting himself beyond belief. By the time Azul was twelve - nearly five years following his discovery of the existence of soulmates - he had searched every crevice of the Coral Sea with no luck; it was also around this time that he met the Leech twins - Floyd and Jade.

Jade was the oldest of the two by a few minutes and was very resourceful as well as very soft-spoke and courteous; his younger brother, Floyd, on the other hand was unpredictable due to his mood swings - he could be interested in one thing one minute and grow bored of it the next. The two moray mers had come across Azul during his younger days when they were in the same class together, watching with awe as his eight appendages hovered about his hidden grotto, writing inscriptions on shells and flipping through pages of grimoires. Originally, they weren’t sure what to make of him, but now that they knew about his capabilities from stories they heard about someone granting wishes for a price - the two were now invested in keeping Azul close to their sides.

And vice versa.

Eventually, the question of why he was doing it came up; Azul took the time to explain the story about how he had first learned about soulmates and how he had been searching the past five years for his, eventually coming to the conclusion that his other half was nowhere in the Coral Sea.

“I have searched every nook and cranny of these waters and have yet to find them,” Azul explained, pouring ingredients into a cauldron as he spoke, “Thus, I’m ‘using my resources’ to spread out the search for my other half.”

“So, some of your deals include gathering any information about a particular person whom you’ve never met nor spoken to?” Jade asked, very intrigued by Azul’s train of thought.

“Hah… sound boring,” Floyd chimed in, reclining atop of one of the rocks in the grotto.

“It’s more interesting than it sounds,” Azul answered, popping a cork off a bottle and dumping the contents into the cauldron as the liquid turned from pale pink to eerie green, “besides, the sooner I find them, the better off they’ll be. However, the problem here lies that if they’re not in the Coral Sea - then where are they?”

Neither of the twins could supply an answer.

It was also around this time that Azul’s appearance had also changed. Baby fat melted and hardened into muscle while his gut and belly dissolved into toned skin, chubby cheeks evolved into high cheekbones; his face sharpening into arched brows, thin lips, and a pointed nose - though his eyes, now filled with knowledge and pride, remained the same. Gone was - in Azul’s opinion - the fat crying octo-twerp of his youth as a handsome, defined sea witch stood in his place; a perfect figure that his soulmate would be proud of once they set sights on him.

The dramatic weight-loss and muscle built scared, not only Jade and Floyd, but also his own mother - whom he did speak to on seldom occasions due to her connections as the owner of the Atlantica Grotto Bistro, which was slowly becoming a local hot spot and where Azul worked full time as a waiter and assistant manager. It was also where he would lure unsuspecting victims - mainly those from his youth or clients with means - into signing his newly-perfected golden contracts, sealing their powers away for his own in exchange for whatever it was that they wished for. Of course, Azul’s mother never suspected a thing about her son’s side business - now a bit preoccupied with the courtship of an older squid mer who had slowly made a presence in her life as well as teaching Azul the fundamentals of building his own business.

When Azul, Jade, and Floyd reached the age of sixteen, they were invited to attend Night Raven College - a boys’ prestigious school for young mages. Azul’s mother had been proud of Azul’s accomplishment and Azul, himself, was secretly thankful that he would be given the chance to explore a different world versus hearing things through the grape vines from his sources. It was during his first year of attending that he made a name for himself, following practically in his mother’s and the Sea Witch’s footsteps; he was now the headwarden and the owner of the Mostro Lounge that his dorm - Octavinelle - operated on the school property. He also was the student others went to when they needed help or had a wish that only he could grant. Jade and Floyd both helped as well, taking his place into luring potential clients into his clutches.

Now, the three of them were entering their second year at NRC - and Azul was barely hanging on by a thread. For the past year on land - thanks to the potion he created that would allow himself, Jade, and Floyd to attend the school as humans - Azul had used his network of informants to extend his search for his other half.

He never forgot the promise he made to continue his search for his soulmate - the contracts were just a starting point to his grand scheme for searching for the person who would love and cherish him as no other could. By building a name for himself, Azul essentially had been given enough money to spend as much as he pleased for information about any leads and his extensive network of informants were at his beck-and-call should he need them to snoop out any potential tips he heard. He had cleared out both Harveston during winter break the previous year and the Queendom of Roses as well as the Shaftlands the previous summer before he was summoned to return to Night Raven. Sunset Savanna would be next on his list during the winter break this year and he would attempt Briar Valley over the summer.

But even that wasn't soon enough it seemed.

Azul’s spirit was practically crying out with each failed search, lead, and tip - nearly to the point that his soul was exhausted and he found himself hearing his mother’s chiding words in his inner ear again. But he was stubborn - incredibly so; and he made plans before leaving his home city again to extend any knowledge to him from outside the school’s barriers.

Azul sighed as the last first year was placed into their dorm, forcing a smile as he addressed his new students, crossing his arms over his chest, "New students! I congratulate you on your achievement. As the dorm head of Octavinelle, I am honored to have the opportunity to support you in what I hope will be a fulfilling campus experience.”

"Hey, does anyone know where the headmage went?" Azul arched his brow as the dorm head of Pomefiore, Vil Schoenheit, spoke, “He disappeared midway through the ceremony…”

"Some headmage he is," Idia Shroud, the head of Ignihyde, grumbled from his tablet that hovered in the chamber.

"Maybe he had a tummy ache?" the ever naive dorm head of Scarabia - Kalim Al-Asim - asked with a shrug.

The doors burst open as the head mage himself appeared, shouting, "I most certainly did not!"

"Ah, speak of the devil," Riddle Rosehearts, the dorm head of Heartslabyul, grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"If you must know," the headmage continued, pulling a cloaked figure along with him, their slender wrist tight in his grasp, "I was searching for the new student who failed to show for orientation. Come along, you are the only one who hasn't been assigned to a dorm - step up to the dark mirror and be quick about it. I'll hold onto your weasel."

Azul watched as the headmage pulled the figure along, causing them to stumble slightly, before he released them. The cloaked figure lifted their head, taking a tentative step towards the mirror as the headmage held tightly onto another being - a little gray cat creature with burning fire in his ears with eyes wider than saucer plates. Something about the shy figure had drawn Azul utmost attention as they stood before the dark mirror.

“State your name,” the mirror spoke, its voice deep and dark.

“I’m (Y/N),” you spoke, so quiet that everyone had to strain to hear them.

“(Y/N)... The nature of your soul is…” the dark mirror hesitated, narrowing its pitch-black eyes before announcing, “...unclear to me.”

“What did you just say?” the headmage crossed his arms over his chest as a murmur rippled through the crowd.

“I sense no magical power from this one,” the dark mirror answered, voice grim, “Soundless. Colorless. Shapeless. Utterly vacant… Therefore, no dorm would be appropriate.”

With his final answer, the headmage let out a cry, “Are you suggesting the black carriage went to recieve a person who cannot even use magic?! That is absurd! The student selection process has not erred once in its century of existence!”

As head headmage continued to squawk in surprise, Azul nearly felt his heart stop in his chest when you looked in his direction.

As soon as your eyes locked with his, Azul knew.

His soulmate was here.

You were a pretty (h/c) with tints of (f/c) weaved into locks that framed your soft features hidden under the black and gold hood of the ceremonial robe you wore, the exotic eyes of (e/c) filled with wonder and surprise - with an underlying hint of fear, likely due to the shock of being called ‘abnormal’ by a piece of looking-glass. You looked about a few inches shorter than him - a perfect height for him to rest his chin upon your head - as a pleasant pink painted your cheeks, turning them into red delicious apples that tempted Azul to take a bite, and your jaw dropped slightly, lips parting with surprise.

Azul knew that you could feel the strong connection between your two souls - the pull he had searched the past decade for finally presenting itself in the shape of you. He found himself unable to look away, staring at you with quiet longing and lovestruck clearly written across his features.

“Azul?” Jade snickered, “What is-”

“I think octy just found what he was lookin’ for, Jade,” Floyd snickered, his eyes shifting between the startled first-year and their lovestruck boss.

“I quite agree,” Jade’s voice came out sickly smooth as his eyes shifted between the three of them, “this has just gotten interesting…”

Azul hardly noticed though the twins’ snickers in his ears, his thoughts were already running wild with ideas of how he wanted to spoil you - his found other half, his precious mate.

The problem now was that you were a non-magic user and a female to boot - nevermind that you had just been put on display like an exotic animal. The whispers that echoed in the chamber forced you to look away from the lovestruck second-year, your body quivering with fear and unease as he himself was brought back to reality.

‘How DARE they insult her while in my presence?’ Azul felt a growl bubble up in the back of his throat, his pale blues shifting from the crowd to his mate to the headmage and back again as his hands curled into fists under the sleeves of his cloak, ‘And how DARE the dark mirror put (Y/N) in this situation!’

“Headwardens,” the headmage’s voice echoed in the chamber, silencing every whisper as he took control of the situation, “please escort your students back to the dorms as the orientation is now complete.”

“What about (Y/N)?” the voice of Coach Vargas spoke up, “Surely you are not expecting someone like her to remain here?”

‘And you’re first on the list of people who will suffer my wrath for saying something so hostile to my mate,’ Azul thought, thinking of what the best way would be to attack the coach indirectly.

“This is a most unfortunate turn of events, yes,” the headmage agreed, tapping his chin in thought, “Due to you being female and that you are a non-magic user, I’m afraid I cannot allow you to attend Night Raven College. You seem like an amicable young lady, however this is an all-boy’s school and I cannot admit a student - male or female - with no magical ability. But fear not, the dark mirror will see you safely home.”

‘NO! You CAN’T!’ Azul was barely holding himself together at this point - he had just found his soulmate and now the world wanted the two of them to be separated forever?! He would not allow it!

Before he could act on impulse, the mirror’s deep voice echoed in the chamber, “There is no such place.”

“What?!” Crowley squawked again as murmurs rose from the crowd yet again.

“There is no place in this world where this soul belongs,” the dark mirror answered again, “None.”

“H-How can that be?!” Crowley asked, his hands shaking with an inner rage, “My, but today is a veritable cavalcade of impossible phenomena! This has never happened throughout my long tenure. I must confess I am at something of a loss.”

Azul could sense the sadness radiating from his mate as well. Were you disappointed that you couldn’t return from wherever you had come from? And if so, why would you want to go back if now you knew of his existence?

Perhaps a little persuasion was needed…

Azul smiled darkly, before taking a step forward, clearing his throat, “Headmage Crowley, I understand that all of us are at a loss of what to do with our strange guest - however, may I offer a solution to our little problem?”

“Master Ashengrotto,” Headmage Crowley crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m not certain what you mean. We must send (Y/N) back to where they came from.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Azul countered, shrugging while keeping his eyes trained on the headmage while he faked a painful look, “It is easy to return us to our homes, but we have no idea where she comes from - or if we can even get her back.”

“T-There must be a way though… right?” you spoke up, your eyes pleading with Azul’s.

“I hate to agree with Azul, but he’s right,” a tan-skinned, dark-haired figure spoke up, “If this herbivore is from another world entirely, the chances of getting them back are slim to none.”

“Leona is quite right on the money with that one,” Vil answered with a nod.

Azul smiled, knowing that the ripples of shock and disbelief were now falling onto the headmage for being incompetent in dealing with this matter. He couldn’t turn (Y/N) away now that Azul had spoken up with two additional dorm heads also taking his side.

“What do you propose then?” Headmage Crowley asked, eyeing the headwarden of Octavinelle uneasily.

“Octavinelle, as I’m sure you remember, has plenty of rooms for rent,” Azul answered, turning to (Y/N) with a reassuring smile, “As the dorm head, I will gladly take (Y/N) into my dorm where she can stay during her time here. If she’s agreeable, she can work within the Mostro Lounge to pay for a place to sleep and to have food in her belly.”

“I’m not sure, Master Ashengrotto…” Crowley spoke, rubbing his chin with a clawed gloved hand, “a single woman in a dorm filled with boys is highly improper…”

“Improper would be the term used for the predicament your so-called black carriage put you in,” Azul snipped, his eyes flashing dangerously at the headmage, “Besides - the rooms we rent are on the opposite side of the aquarium in our dorm, quite a ways away from the rooms the dorm members reside in for that particular purpose. We also have security within our dorm and I’m usually the one to deal with matters of… problematic nature.”

“Perhaps, however-”

“Consider it one less problem on your plate as well. If (Y/N) is brought to my dorm, I will take full responsibility for her - and I might be able to find a way to get her home in the process as well.”

“You what?” your eyes widen with hope, your hand reaching out and clasping the edge of his robe.

“I have an endless network of resources at my disposal, my dear - I can likely find you a quicker way to get home than you can with anyone else here,” Azul answered confidently, thinking, ‘Though you won’t know that since I found you. I’ve searched high and low for you, I’ll be damned if I let you slip from my grasp so easily.’

“Very well then,” Headmage Crowley let out a sigh, “(Y/N), are you agreeable with staying with the Octavinelle dorm and working at the Mostro Lounge until Master Ashengrotto can find a way to return you to your world?”

“Of course! Thank you so much, Mr. Ashengrotto!” you beamed with joy.

“Azul,” the dorm head answered with a nod, “please, call me Azul.”

“Azul, then.”

The human-cecaelian smiled sweetly at his soulmate and offered an arm out, his hearts practically bursting with joy when you slipped your own arm through his - the two of you now link together via soul and side by side.

***

Azul brought you to the Octavinelle’s renting dorm after ordering Jade and Floyd to start the welcoming party for the first years as well as to get them ready for tomorrow night.

“Do what you need to do,” Azul smiled at the two.

“Of course.”

“You got it, boss!”

When the two of them were out of earshot, you looked up at Azul, “Thank you so much for your help back there. I wasn’t certain what was going to happen if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Likely the headmage would have thrown you out of the college and left you to fend for yourself,” Azul smiled, “but I, on the other hand, would never allow something so pitifully disgusting happen to you.”

You giggled, the sound pulling on Azul’s heartstrings.

‘She’s here, she’s real,’ his thoughts quickened as the two continued their leisurely pace, ‘I knew that she was real, that she and I would meet. It will only be a matter of time now - once she confesses her feelings for me, I will make her mine.’

The two stopped outside one of the doors, Azul pulled out a key ring and unlocked it before ushering his soulmate inside.

“You can stay here,” Azul answered, peering around and wishing that it was cleaner than it was now, “There’s spare blankets in the closet in case you get cold during the night and fresh towels in the bathroom. I’ll have Jade or Floyd bring you a spare pair of clothing since you’ve brought nothing with you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to…”

“I insist,” Azul answered, “What sort of host would I be if I didn’t provide the best service?”

You giggled again, your smile even wider, “Well, thank you again Azul.”

Each time you spoke his name, Azul’s heart gave a leap of joy.

He coughed, blushing slightly, “W-Well then, should you need anything during your time here, just let me know.”

“Of course, but - may I ask a question?”

“You already have,” Azul snickered at you.

Your pout was adorable that Azul burst into laughter before you asked, “Why were you willing to help me? A complete stranger?”

“I have a gift for sensing someone in need,” Azul answered, his grin spreading wider over his features, “I have helped many poor unfortunate souls in my short lifetime and intend on continuing to offer my services in exchange for something.”

“What sort of payment?”

“Depends - but it isn’t something you should worry about. I like to keep a few things in my personal life private - regardless of my relationships with other people.”

“Of course, I can respect that.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Azul reached out, pushing the hood down and stroking your soft hair gently, “Why don’t you rest now? I have to attend the welcome party for the new students and make sure no one is destroying anything in my absence. I will have Jade or Floyd bring you something to eat in a little bit along with that fresh change of clothes. Tomorrow, we’ll discuss our contract.”

“Contract?”

“I always have my employees sign a business contract before they begin work - regardless how long they work in the lounge for,” Azul answered, “It helps to have things in writing when dealing with problems later down the road.”

With a nod, you grinned, “Thank you again, Azul-san.”

The cecaelia couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling away and leaving his other half to stare at him in shock and surprise.

When the door clicked behind him, Azul pulled the keyring out and locked the door to prevent anyone from entering and you from leaving. His eyes gleamed menacingly in the low light as a black gloved hand stroked the doorframe gently.

‘At last… you’re here with me, my precious pearl. Forgive me, but now that I have seen you… I can never let you go…’

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gleefullypolin · 5 months ago

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Stacy's Tipsy Musing's – Penelope Bridgerton Hot Takes - Part 3

Ok boys and girls, we need to have a little chat about Penelope Bridgerton.

Part 2 has been out now for a couple of days and there have been a lot of hot takes to come out of the season. A LOT of hot takes. I’m going to break this down into 4 parts like I did for Colin ((Part 1, 2, 3, 4, Bonus). 4 questions that I'm seeing really bad hot takes about Penelope.

Not surprising I see lots of hot takes about Pen, because either A) people cannot handle a woman complex emotions and facets, B) hate on a woman who does not fit societal norms and standards or C) are stans who refuse to see that all characters have imperfections which make them even more delicious to watch.

Last time we talked about Colin’s entrapment statement to Pen and her reaction to it. Question 1, Question 2, now lets get to question 3:

Why didn’t Show!Pen give up Lady Whistledown like Book!Pen did?

Ok let’s talk Book vs Show. In the book she’s 28, but in the show, she’s just turned 20 and in the book she’s already been Whistledown for 12 years, much longer than the 3 in the show. So, she’s built an actual empire in the show and has been doing this for a very long time in her life. By the end of the book, she’s ready to give this up and move on to her novel.

In the show, this is still new hat to her. She has accomplished much, yes, but for her, its still something she’s trying to make her own. She still wants to see if this is her purpose. She knows she feels lost when she tries to give it up, that she feels that something in her is telling her that it’s not right to let it go. And I think she resents that Colin continually keeps asking her to do that.

I also think its very early in the series for her to give this up. I have high suspicions that Ben is next and even though I have not read his book, I know that LW plays a part in that story still since we skipped over him in the series, so I assume the writers want to keep LW as a part of it and make Pen the first Regency official journalist. So, Pen will use her sources, the butlers, maids, cooks, etc, where she gets her information. I have a feeling we will see her continue to determine if this is where she wants to continue with her writing and maybe that is part of Season 4 with her finding her purpose in her eventual novel.

But I really think they just felt it was still too new for Pen. As she stated to Eloise, Whistledown is power, and Pen was not ready to let all of that go. A woman in that era had no voice, no power, and with her quill she found that even as Penelope, she could be a force to be reckoned with. And just like her now published husband, her name is associated with her written word. That is powerful indeed.

In the show Portia tells her women give up their dreams for their husbands, I loved how when she did that, she burned her LW pamphlets at the same time as Colin finally got past his writers’ block and began soaring. And my heart pained. As a strong-willed woman, with daughters myself, I would never, could never imagine this for my girls. I would say we live in a different time, but I will also say for the sake of argument, with the way society has come for women and our rights in the past few years, this season hit different. Perhaps it’s why I appreciated the themes that much more. Never give up your dream’s ladies, not for anything, especially men.

So, at the end of all of it, after she decided to give up her identify, after she decided that she could never give up herself, her writing, and with the Queen giving her the go ahead, and her husband standing by her side, Penelope has decided to continue finding herself through her writing. And maybe that will take her to her novel, “Wallflower” and maybe it doesn’t. Maybe she becomes Mayfair’s most famous journalist, but I can’t wait to find out either way.

Stick around for part 4....

Isn’t Pen ending up with a baby right away truly ending her career and freedom for her and colin and traveling?

#penelope bridgerton #stacy's tipsy musings #bridgerton spoilers #hot takes #polin #bridgerton s3 #bridgerton #strong women are complicated

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angellic-critique · 10 months ago

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Honestly my biggest fear is to end up writing my characters the same way vivzie does, I feel like she doesn't even try on certain characters(female characters and literally any other that isn't her "uwu baby boi must be protected at all costs" characters like stolas, angel dust). Like imagine completely missing the point of your own character/srs

to everyone pre-release worries and anxieties just as much as I have-- Please take this time to read or explore different interests of books or authors of subjects and genres you like ! In the era of internet where the golden age of information is rusting into brainrot, the less time online anymore the better. I've been taking javascript/python tutorials for myself attempting to make a dating simulator for literal years at this point and its bounced around to the point of where I branched off to develop my own murder mystery 2-d sidescroller !

I wish for this to be a farewell letter to the crushed hopes and dreams I had for the original hazbin pilot and crew has moved on to other things whereas viv attempted to spitefully keep a story she clearly doesn't have any passion over- it is very evident over her lack of care for her own characters purely for the monetary gains of attempting and sadly wriggling her way into industry the way she did is so abhorrent to the world of genuine art and animation I grew up with.

Has Vivzie ever read a Felix the Cat comic strip or Dilbert even Hägar The Horrible? Does she even know about the history and strive of depth that animation has been at for hundreds of years? Does she even like comics, clearly not if she doesn't even have the patience to write her own and horribly rush whichever story she's interested in that day. I've never seen a careless writer be this selfishly unashamed to write literal garbage and surface level 'intrigue' of design and then falling flat face first at EVERY step. Hope she becomes as unbearable of a director as John K. is because honestly even though I'm cringing making that comparison, it's pretty fair in my book considering the outright ABUSE she has always trying to talk or hoard artists into her 'pet project' I recommend above anything else to watch Dan Stamanolous' 'Moral Orel' if you want an actually funny dark comedy or Christy Karacas' fast paced dark horror comic-come-to-life Superjail! for good animattion that doesn't belittle its audience... *[Trigger Warnings for Adult Swim-esque outdated 2007 humor and light transphobia, read for your own triggers if you dont want to though, please!]

The fact that Stollitz is written so flimsily like a wattpad fanficiton of tropes rolled into one is astounding to me, I used to like the dynamic pre-season 2 as I've mentioned on here and @tired-hellowl so I really don't want to get a headache going into how I USED to like it-Realizing the problematic consent issues all of STOLASS is, I physically cannot watch another Helluva or Hazbin promo anymore without rolling my eyes into the back of my head.

To the anons and people who used to also enjoy vivs work, there are other artists and there are other stories to tell. If you wish to be inspired from Dante's Inferno/Hell or WESTERN CHRISTIAN BASED RELIGION keep in mind what source material you're doing because I don't even think vivzie has picked up the bible once in her life.... And I say this as a drifter in the world who believes in reincarnation I don't really vibe with the athiest stereotypes however, I don't believe in most religion but more power to people that do get hope and love from their teachings and cultures.

She entirely missed the mark for several years, nearly a decade. Viv has had time and time again chance and opportunity to give a chance of storytelling with demons and what does she do? Adult Cartoon that has the demons scream 'FUCK SHIT DAMNIT DAMNIT LOOK IM SO HORNY AND SILLY AND WACKY WOAHH THE SCREEN IS CONSTANTLY MOVING YOU CAN NEVER HAVE A SECOND TO BREATH IN ANY AMOUNT OF WORLBUILDING OR SETTING BECAUSE FUCK. YOU.'--

I have said this time and time again- there is no substance or worth about Helluva Bosses or Hazbins writing, even without the show not being released because Amazon seems ashamed about it, I know it'll be a shitshow.

Honestly at this point I agree with the redesign community, take any character you used to like and rewrite them until it's unrecognizable from the original source material, let those fuckers in space fight alien pirates or hell take them out of the heaven and hell trope and just flip it on it's head entirely out of earth or wherever you want to set your story! I'm personally redesigning angel to be a slight aid to my addiction help via rewriting him into my murder mystery heheh while keeping the sexual abuse and recovery in mind because woah that shit happened to me too man !!!

I wish the best to any future writers, animators, programmers, lovers of animation or art, you can do what you put your mind and hands to! Spread more positivity and love then hate in this world please guys, this'll be the last time I pop in I promise I'm trying to get a better job and hopefully get accepted in a community college that i've been on the fence over trying to do more online coding ! The sky is the limit!<3

#anti vivziepop #trash askbox #helluva critical #i dont want to be mean in the tags and overtag like i usually do #however #vivziepop critical #please stop supporting spindlehorse #please stop supporting vivziepop #anti helluva boss #genuine art criticism #genuine art tip box #<3 signing off #!!! <3 #my.silley.art

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fictionfixations · 4 months ago

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can i just say

you know those transmigrater(?) grator?? i odnt. i dont know the terms for this man

but you know the the the. transmigrates into usually the villain kinda stories?

you know whats my favorite for that kinda stuff? where we were the actual character all along (i think its.. regressor...? ??? either going back into your past as yourself or living another life and then backtracking to a past life of yours that being of generally the villain? idont know if thats what it actually means)

ive also never seen it but i just. think its really cool. and i like reading fics where theyre the same person

in the same way i like it when they have motives. let me be clear, ive NEVER seen the source material so i have no idea whats canon and whats not

but you know what id like to think is canon? shen jiu being a former slave and being super bitter at the world for being very cruel and thats why hes an asshole in like. book canon.(? canon. of. the book. ..in the story.? i think the the the book in that one is like Proud Immortal Demon Way...? IDK man)

or like like. og cale henituse acting like trash because he cares about his siblings and doesnt want negative attention on them also dont know if thats canon. but yknow what? thats my canon

now about time travel in general since it kind of relates, romance is always iffy because its like you know everything that'll make this person fall in love with you. or like, theres an age gap now, and it might not bother them but its not like they know. i know. (its worse if youre like back in your teenage years while youre already an adult cause at that point it feels a little gross)

its that sort of discrepancy(?)

so like. i dont like that there needed to be an entirely new person to be in that body to make change or do things for the better or make everyone like that person

it feels like a cop out.

and also people believing that that person suddenly changed for the better when they arent that person at all???

which. ow.

maybe thats my bad. maybe im secretly an apologist for them, idk, maybe im projecting

but like idk man. the world telling you youre not enough so someone else ends up in your body and then fixes literally every issue in the world (and everyone liking this 'version' of you better). like ow me heart

in all fairness the og's wouldn't have knowledge of the book they're living in??? which is why the transmigrator can do so much

but. THUS. new life AS the transmigrator, then regressing(?) back into their past life with that new knowledge. and probably character growth cause maybe they experience what being loved is like (familial. imagine how cruel itd be to have a lover then one day waking up in a past life of yours that you can only associate as cruel and punishing, and you genuinely cant be sure if that person was made up or not. like was it just a dream? also 'oh god the people i thought mightve been dead are alive')

tbh though it might be because while op time traveling shenanigans (or anything in between) is cool with me, i also like the angsty time travel of 'when i look at them, i keep seeing their dead faces'

of 'how do you know this' (accusatory, 'are you a traitor?')

of also grudges and stuff

but also. more character growth refacing trauma theyve faced before

also maybe probably very much selfish because they kindaa probably just wanna protect their family and will do anything to do so (and thus embrace the 'villain' part that people think of them as)

i dont know if im making sense anymore

now LET ME BE CLEAR i dont like that shen jiu hit his students and shit and was a huge asshole and its not going to suddenly go away. but. its acknowledging what you did wrong, making up for it, but knowing that it'll still stay there. that he still did it even if he deeply regrets it and even if everyone forgives him. because i really dont know in what situation itd be okay to be hit? and also that hopefully hes not that person anymore, but that he wont hide it and will own up to it as a thing he did and shouldnt have done.

anyway i dont know what og cale did besides act like trash but its either the fics im reading are downplaying it or like. thats really it. i have no clue. but still the same thing. if he did some horrible thing, ABOVE.

i just like redemption. and revenge stories. and character growth-ing.

and maybe thats on me for liking villain-ish characters. (im saying villain-ish though because supposedly og cale didnt play a huge part in the book? ....Birth of a Hero...?????? like he just happened, got beat up, and dipped? i think? thats what ive heard anyway. so i dont know if he really counts as one since like uh. white star.????????? ????)

anyway uh thought dump over

feel free to correct me in comments i like learning about things

#thoughts #transmigration #i dont know what to tag this #shen jiu #og cale henituse

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my-deer-history · 9 months ago

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Francis Kinloch in the Müller-Bonstetten letters (and others): Part 5

More translations, taken from various sources (here, here, here and here). The letters are to Bonstetten unless otherwise noted. Biographical details sourced from Kinloch of South Carolina.

13 May 1780

Because of Mr Kinloch, I am filled with joy and dread. Dread, because his city has been besieged by 10,000 men with a great deal of artillery; joy, because he has married a very amiable and wealthy woman*. I receive regular letters from his brother; his own are often lost due to the perils of war.

*Kinloch’s first wife was Mildred Walker, though it seems they were only married on 22 Feb 1781. She died in Nov 1784.

9 Sept 1780

Kinloch, after having performed bravely in various engagements, was wounded in the arm, whereupon South Carolina unanimously elected him as a delegate to the Continental Congress; he sits with his colleagues in Philadelphia, not very peacefully, I think.

11 Aug 1781

I spent two days sorting more than 500 letters that came from Geneva along with my books. Memories of Kinloch, Nassau, Bonnet, Tronchin, Boone, Knight, Sandys, Abbot sweetened the work

7 Dec 1782, to his mother

I have largely been happy with my life up until now: but almost never on the path that I intended to take. Twelve years ago, I wished to marry*, and to live in Schaffhausen on a few professorships; I then had various plans for England and Flanders; at one point, the greatest and best thing seemed to me to witness the blossoming and progress of a new free country with Kinloch, and the serve a free people in war and peace;

*Original annotation: The desire lasted only a few days.

January 1784

It is neither my place to compare myself with such writers nor to scorn what God has given me: but after almost losing many years of my early youth, the 33rd [year] is finally here, but in an occupation to which I was not suited, the 24th and 25th I spent with Kinloch, leaving me little time for my own studies of friendship and duty

9 Aug 1786

Nothing else has changed in my household, except that Mr Boone, Kinloch’s former guardian and governor of South Carolina, has sent his son here, and he is living with me; he does not take up any of my time, as I only see him at mealtimes; he is an amiable officer, who was also very popular at Aschaffenburg.*

*A town in Bavaria.

20 Feb 1801

In my letter writing, I had to ensure that there was also a reply to Kinloch in South Carolina. Do you remember the noble youth? Now he is a grandfather;* he lives happily besides and I have just read an excellent essay of his about the character of the revolution.**

*Kinloch’s daughter, Eliza Kinloch Nelson, gave birth to a son called Francis in 1800.

**From context, the French rather than American revolution.

7 Jan 1803

Not enjoyable, as you can see, but rather tender in its sufferings and joys was the transition into my 52nd year. On that birthday I wrote to South Carolina, responding to two of Kinloch’s letters, full of spirit and love.

22 Oct 1803

I already wrote to you that Kinloch has arrived in Bordeaux and will soon be in Geneva; he wrote to me at once in such a brotherly way, rejoiced at the long-awaited reunion, and for a few days took me back to the charming dreams of my youth! I answered him immediately; we shall see each other in the coming year. If nothing unusual happens, I can easily get a few months' leave; should it not be possible from this or that perspective, then the one who has crossed the ocean and all of France will also make these 60 posts himself.

25 Jan 1804

Write to me in Dresden at once. If the world quietens, or at least does not continue to burn, I hope to visit you and Kinloch in the summer.

18 June 1804

To Geneva, first, came the most beautiful letters from Berlin, gracious, joyful, inducing longing. Then Kinloch’s embrace! he is as he was; slightly fatter; his heart noble, as before; a husband, like you; a caring father; a faithful brother; a morally perfect person.

13 May 1780

Ich bin wegen Hrn. Kinloch in großer Freude und Furcht. In Furcht, weil seine Stadt von 10,000 Mann mit vieler Artillerie belagert wird; in Freude, weil er eine sehr liebenswürdige und reiche Frau geheirathet hat. Von seinem Bruder bekomme ich öftere Briefe; die seinigen gehen durch die Kriegsgefahren häufig verlohren.

9 Sept 1780

Kinloch, nachdem er sich in verschiedenen Treffen tapfer gehalten, ist am Arm verwundet worden, worauf Südcarolina ihn einmüthig zum Deputirten auf den Generalcongreß erwählt hat; er sitzt mit seinen Collegen zu Philadelphia, nicht eben ruhig, denke ich.

11 Aug 1781

Zwei Tage sind mir über der Anordnung von mehr als 500 Briefen, die nebst meinen Büchern aus Genf gekommen sind, verflossen. Manche Erinnerung an Kinloch, Nassau, Bonnet, Tronchin, Boone, Knight, Sandys, Abbot, versüßte die Arbeit

7 Dec 1782, to his mother

Ich bin in meinem Leben bis dahin meist glücklich gewesen: fast nie aber auf dem Weg, den ich gehen wollte. Vor zwölf Jahren wünschte ich zu heirathen*, und mit ein Paar Professorstellen zu Schaffhausen zu leben; ich hatte nachmals auf England und Flandern verschiedene Plane; einst schien mir das größte und beste, mit Kinloch dem Aufblühen und Fortgang eines neuen Freistaates beizuwohnen, und im Krieg und Frieden einem freien Volk zu dienen;

*Der Wunsch dauerte nur wenige Tage.

January 1784

Es kömmt weder mir zu, mich solchen Schriftstellern zu vergleichen oder zu verachten, was Gott auch mir gegeben: aber nachdem ich viele Jahre der ersten Jugend fast verloren, das 33ste endlich hier, aber in einer Beschäftigung, für die ich nicht war, das 24ste und 25ste mit Kinloch, so daß mir für eigene Studien von Freundschaft und Pflicht wenige Zeit gelassen wurde

9 Aug 1786

In meinem Hauswesen hat sich weiter nichts verändert, als daß Hr. Boone, Kinloch's ehmaliger Vormund, und von Südcarolina Gouverneur, seinen Sohn' hieher gesandt, welcher bei mir wohnt; Zeit kostet er mir keine, da ich nur bei Tafel ihn sehe; er ist ein liebenswürdiger Officier, der auch zu Aschaffenburg sehr wohl gefallen.

20 Feb 1801

Von meiner Briefschreibung muß ich nachholen, daß auch nach Südcarolina an Kinloch eine Antwort dabei war. Erinnerst du dich des edlen Jünglings? Nun ist er Großvater; lebt übrigens glücklich und ich habe so eben einen vortrefflichen Aufsatz über den Charakter der Revolution von ihm gelesen.

7 Jan 1803

Nicht lustig war, wie du siehst, aber zärtlich in Leiden und Freuden der Uebergang in mein 52stes Jahr. An dem Geburtstag wurde nach Südcarolina geschrieben, auf zwei Briefe Kinloch's voll Geist und Liebe.

22 Oct 1803

Schrieb ich dir schon, daß Kinloch zu Bordeaux angekommen ist und nun zu Genf seyn wird; wie brüderlich er mir sogleich schrieb, des lang ersehnten Wiedersehens frohlockte, und für einige Tage mich ganz in der Jugend holde Trăume zurück versehte! Ich habe ihm sogleich geantwortet; sehen werden wir uns im zukünftigen Jahr. Wenn nichts besonderes eintritt, so kann ich Urlaub auf ein paar Monate leicht erhalten; sollte es aus der oder der Betrachtung nicht seyn können, so wird der über das Weltmeer und ganz Frankreich Hergekommene auch diese 60 Posten selbst noch machen.

25 Jan 1804

Nach Dresden schreibe mir sogleich. Wenn die Welt ruhig, oder doch nicht weiterhin entflammt wird, so hoffe ich auf den Sommer Euch und Kinloch zu besuchen.

18 June 1804

Zu Genf erstlich die schönsten Briefe von Berlin, gnädig, freudevoll, sehnsuchterregend. Dann Kinloch's Umarmung! er ist, wie er war; etwas fetter; sein Herz edel, wie vorhin; ein Gatte, wie du; ein sorgsamer Vater; ein treuer Bruder; ein moralisch vollkommener Mensch.

#francis kinloch #johannes von müller #karl viktor von bonstetten #18th century history #queer history #“the desire lasted only a few days” 😭

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desertsfic · 22 days ago

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im probably about to get very fucking personal, and you have every right to delete this now, now, now and never think about it or me, ever again, but i needed to get it out of me or i was going to choke on it.

i recently discovered your fanfic Metempsychosis buried in the rubble of some (really good) fucking piece of fanart. it barely had a hundred likes (absolute fucking crime, gorgeous artwork) but it was enough of an anglerfish to draw me in and— I'll be blatantly honest, i have no idea how much about mental illness you have first hand experience with but i'm going to guess youre painfully familiar with it because reading it was like watching someone put the inside of my head on a platter and i finally got to point to things and go "how did you explain that"

the way you formatted the paragraphs was so well done i got beyond excited to read, for what is probably the first and only time in my life, a story that was written the way my train of thought tends to be. the cadence, the way it abruptly shifts but you can still keep track of it but when you start losing track its ok, its ok, its ok, its fine, its whatever, its just a fucking— fuck, and, fuck, and fuck— and then it switches off into the next day, the next hour, yesterday and then its 5pm forever.

you encapsulate the phenomenon of cptsd so starkly its insane, i cannot stress enough how much people rarely depict my own personal experiences with cptsd this accurately. it resonated profoundly . what's genius about the way you set this fic up is that when you meet him, its dirk, yeah, of course, its dirk, and then you get to the chapter where Diedrich meets Dirk in a dream bubble for the very first (coherent) time and you write this young dream bubble Dirk so absolutely in character that youre suddenly flooded with all the memory and weight of what young, canon dirk, is truly like and the abysmal weight (of) realization, that the "dirk" youve been reading the pov from, is so fucking isolated its suffocating.

your use of color is jarring and it fits so well with disrupting the flow of the story just enough that it clicks in the back of your head like shards of glass, but youre so invested in the story its impossible to be truly pulled out of it, because its You, Its always been You— oh god and Jade?

bark bark bark, ok! ! just nail — man you nailed EVERYONE on the head but wrote them jussstttt off enough that it unsettles you but the unsettling sensation is so small compared to everything else you cant even feel it until something happens— Dave

you wrote dave. so well.

dude, im telling you, i finished his first rambly bullshit paragraph you introduced to the fic and i teared up so hard i almost cried . i cannot explain to you how perfectly you have encapsulated his nervous energy, his endearing petulance, the soft murmurs that betray what he's thinking even when he's saying something else. you got his grin to his smile to his smirks down to a T and it makes me so emotional i want to punch a fuckin hole in my wall for being unable to capture it in my art the way you capture it in words. i dont think you truly understand your ability to express Imagery in Words.

I have spent an ungodly amount of time and energy and whatever else bullshit there is to spend on observing and drinking books, arts, media, fanfic, music, theatre, anything, anything, anything at-fucking-all that involves story and prying loose from it ( every god damn thing i have ever touched) Meaning and Emotions and a god damn fucking collection of shambled personalities that mumble out half memorized lines of their source material, god— even people are experiences to me, i meet someone in the street for three seconds, have an interaction and i remember them for decades but ill forget something "important" because ?.?.fuckifiknowwhy anyways, every human person is an experience to me, and that experience, it counts as a story in my eyes, and i need you to know with my heart and soul and every fucking fiber of my *gestures to all of me* shit fuck whatever the fuck is happening right here is so unbelievably god damn fucking impressed with what you have written.

i have read, renowned authors whose stories pale in comparison to the absolute fucking gold you just puked into every crevice of the subtext

i do not know how to bind books, but if i ever get permission from you, i am binding this into a fucking book because it reached inside me and fuckinf grabbed my soul and shook it everywhere and screamed "hey! hey look! they put your experiences into Words and you can Understand them."

so thank you.

thank you for writing this. thank you for sharing this, with the world. thank you for letting it stay. i havent finished it, i just finished reading chapter 10 but it was eating me up inside. my friends express a lot that im a lot more— that i experience emotions on a level most people do not, so id very timidly like to add i do not know how this (me) is going to sound and maybe it sounds crazy but. man.

if none of this makes sense just please, please, if youre going to take anything away from this its that You Have Had An Impact In My Life. you have changed me.

and maybe you delete this, maybe you never see this, maybe this gets lost to time forever and ok, ok ok yeah yeahyeah thats cool, whatever, but.

your story did ultimately reach me in a way that stupid fucking kudos button never could express.

so thank you. and know ill never be able to write enough but that if i could id sculpt everything you put into my head.

Ft: art piece i dont think ill ever finish but that you inspired

Hi there! I've been saving this one because it's so long and so personal I wasn't sure if it was appropriate to post!

But it meant so much to me, and I wanted you to know I saw it and read it (and of course showed my closest friends as well haha hope that's okay).

It is super exciting (and flattering) that you felt like the writing style mirrored your thought process! I think second person is so personal, perhaps only second to first person (any pun not intended), and I like it because in a way it definitely lends itself to a writing style based on the narrator/pov. I don't know how well I explained or even how well I wrote that but! Yeah :) thank you!

But seriously, this ask has been sitting here for me to look at for too long, and I wanted you to know that it is perhaps one of the longest, kindest things anyone has ever said about metempsychosis, and that means so much to me!

I know you've long since posted the finished artwork, but it made me so happy the first time I saw it, practically breathless even! To see a little bit of inspiration for the world I've tried cobbling together through words.

So thank YOU, seriously, for being so willing to be open and raw with me. It has meant a lot during this quiet year, and I hope I'm not too late letting you know all this!

#im not very good at responding to asks but i try haha #thank you man!#seriously very cool and nice of you i am a little embarrassed but flattered #i dont feel like i can say enough but! i hope this is okay :)

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houseofashesif · 1 year ago

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My Answer for the above ask!

1. Some of the main themes include loss of freedom, oppression and indoctrination as a consequence of absolute power and its subsequent corruption. The main lesson of the story is self discovery through a convoluted dystopian world where individuality is frowned upon. It's a story of kindness and compassion of human nature even during the bleakest of times when hope has died, but at the same time it's about humanity’s sinister nature, insatiable greed and society’s complacency and apathy for those in absolute power could doom us. It's about freedom that cannot be exchanged for any amount of wealth or power in the world. (that sounds kinda confusing i know, story idea just came to me as a bathroom idea so that’s it for now)

2. Sounds lame but i had this spontaneous idea after listening to a Youtube summary obout some story series (im sorry i dont remember its name, heard it a long time ago) and with a combo of plenty of lazy time + a lot of day dreaming (and i mean a LOT) i thought “hm why dont i try writing a story?” and boom here it is, a half baked idea waiting to be fully baked now. Plus i was inspired by the Zodiacs (the western zodiacs i mean) and some flower symbolism like the red spider lilies :) (plus plus im kinda into politics and stuff as a pol science major, so yeah its just me and my pessimistic mind acting up again to make the worst case scenario haha-uhm)

3. My MC (whom i am planning to make an amnesic with no memories of their past including their name) is on a journey of self discovery through the dystopian land of Elysium City (an irony indeed) looking for answers to several questions like, Why are their memories missing? Who is the person they see in their dreams, telling them to live? And what is with their strange ability which allows them to read people's hearts and in a way, their memories? Why were they kept captive in a mental asylum? (ok it looks like i went overboard i’ll stop now) As for me, i'm just a small budding writer looking to grow as a writer in general, and probably improve my writing while im at it for my future plans. Plus its for the sake of my own mental peace, hey i need some outlet for my ideas too, would hate to see them die off right. Currently it's more like a pet project for myself, where i just dump all of my ideas (+ my favourite tropes and dynamics and characters) into a chaotic cauldron and expect them to cook themselves. I know its not as deep as others but eh everyone’s got a different goal

4. None as of yet, im still in the middle of worldbuilding (its a nightmare i tell you,coming up with names for places, people, organizations etc but its fun)

5. Its an original content, albeit drawing inspiration for lots of stuff from lots of different sources over the years. Im not sure about where to post it tho, i mean i can post it in the likes of Wattpad, Ao3 or even tumblr, but i doubt i have the guts to do so ehe

6. It started in the beginning as a way to express myself and my thoughts in essays for school homework and projects, which in some cases included adding murder mysteries to the most mundane of things, e.g. a visit to a weekly market (alright im going off course again sorry) then i was introduced to wattpad by my cousin, and oh boy, after that i went on a rampage writing and reading all sorts of fanfictions, applyfics and etc etc. Then i left wattpad for Ao3 then i stumbled upon tumblr and its interactive fics. Writing to me is an outlet for my thoughts and emotions, fleeting like a blowing breeze, i never really took it too seriously. But now seeing how several people on the internet are writing and publishing their books, i kinda want to do it too. Its been a dream of mine for a while so i dont know, who knows this sudden burst of motivation might just pass away too ;D

7. These words are not just for other fellow writers but also for me, never stop believing in yourself and what you want to do, regardless of what others say. After All it's your life, sometimes you may feel discouraged, seeing how far others are in life when you haven't even started with the baby steps, but its alright, everybody went through that once upon a time. Just, don't give up alright? Sorry i suck at inspiring people

Writers of Tumblr, I have an ask game for you all!

Please reblog and answer these questions, maybe tag others too! My asks are also open for them.

By the way, please read my snippets of TFLOC!

What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

When and why did you start writing?

Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

#writeblr community #writeblr #ask game #writing #writers #writers on tumblr #writers block #writing tips #writerscommunity

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bluepoodle7 · 1 year ago

Text

#InfectedRealtorAU #LightHouseMadScientistRealtor #LightHouse #MonsterFungmammal

I'm also thinking about making a lighthouse realtor also.

I'm making a sitcom of infected realtors oh no.

I just like weird houses okay.

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

This one realtor is friend of Jetty Shanty and looks mad scientist like in appearance and owns a one eyed monster as a fungmammal but it's type is blank but tries its best to help to its randomized on what type it is but has a time limit for how long the props work.

The fungmammal's name is Flash and kind of looks like the mascot of this page but is all purple, has three blue horns, wings are orange, and a pink tail.

The inner mouth is green.

(Acts female but is mushroom gendered and her size fluctuates between small, medium, and large.)

The truth is Flash is a fusion of all three types and not a separated set of three or this lighthouse realtor would have gone crazy.

When Flash is in parasite mode the lighthouse realtor would worry about her safety but doesn't get the starving effect by Flash.

Flash is starving herself.

(Liwanag) for light in Filipino and (Whare) for house in Māori.

Is 6"0 Has a female lure but if the lure dies will make it male lure like a genderbend lure.

(She/He/or They will work. But She/They for the female version of the lure and He/They male version of the lure.)

(I used google translate.)

Once Flash's parasite moment ends Liwanag will put back some of her spores back on her body.

Liwanag is trying to find another source of food for non infected realtor's to eat other than humans but Flash wants her friend to stay safe and not to bother so they won't get captured.

This realtor's number used to be 2326 which means beam in telephone words.

Liwanag's freewill dream is to be a great scientist and the uncanny valley doctor and managed to find a cure to the common cold but the mayor of the uncanny valley got paid by a shady organization not to release this cure so they can sell medicine that doesn't work.

They did eat one human once but got allergic to humans after eating one the first day they sprouted.

Liwanag was buyer hunting again because they had to eat then collapses on the ground due to their hunger.

So this realtor was near death so Jetty found them and carried them to the beach.

Jetty told this realtor about fungmammals and try one.

Then they just jumped in the water and remember realtor's can't swim.

And was rescued by Flash and they were friends. Flash is on the labcoat pocket on Liwanag's labcoat like a custom iron on embroidered patch button.

Now they are trying to find a meat substitute similar to humans so if any other creature is allergic can eat this instead.

They love to read books and gain as much knowledge as possible. While infected this realtor gets to try many foods and loves to cook meals.

Unlike non infected realtors the infected ones can eat with their lure bodies and it travels up through the lure cord to eat.

They can also eat the old fashion way.

But Liwanag likes eating the human like way more and keeps their house clean and organized.

Liwanag want's to find a cure to the Husk realtor's and the Hollows that are caused by the parasite fungmammals eating their hosts but only leaving a tiny bit of what was once a being with a personality and life.

Liwanag will try to see if the husk realtor's and the hollows had any friends or lovers that knew them before the change and ask to chat with them in outdoor settings like a park but never indoors.

This is to prevent discovery while also pretending to do the classic realtor thing when a popular non infected realtor appears.

I was kind of inspired by Dr. Wasabi to make my light house realtor off this guy.

Liwanag different gendered lure forms are based of the male and female choices in video games but can make the lure genderless. Also I thought Dr. Wasabi was a female at first until the lost episode made the character talk more.

A blog about obscurity stuff, plushies and food. on Tumblr - search: Dr Wasabi

[Flash Animation] Ramen Flash (HD) - YouTube

Female Gamers Surpass Teenage Boys in Numbers – The Arcade (the-arcade.ie)

Wii Fit Trainer (SSBU) - SmashWiki, the Super Smash Bros. wiki (ssbwiki.com)

I imagine Liwanag sounding monotone in all three lure forms.

Kind of similar to Tina in Bob's Burgers.

Liwanag for their freewill wants to either make a uncanny valley school/ college or open a medical medical facility for the uncanny valley.

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

Infected Realtor Intereactions.

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

Liwanag attends the free woodshop classes that Tré Loger and Woodster have.

That's where infected realtor's and other creatures go to destress and be themselves.

It's also a good place to meet people and is hidden part of the uncanny valley island.

You need a wood based pun or joke to get in.

Tre is thinking about adding pottery making to the classes.

Tre also asked everyone what else they should do together and everyone votes on what to do that day.

Like a movie night, plush making, tell spooky stories, show and tell.

But sometimes there will be times where they will comedy roast each other but only on appearing or sprouting days which are like birthdays to them.

For example.

Tre would say "I'm glad everyone could be here to be at Liwanag's sprouting day which is today." "Anyways enough about me you wacky haired person."

"So do you work out anywhere besides the library?"

"Leave some knowledge for the rest of us will ya."

Liwanag would say back with a smirk. "You got me there Tre."

"But I herd you was sprouted with Woodster with you."

"How do you know you can't eat a human?"

"I have a excuse since I'm allergic to eating humans."

Tre would say "Getting personal huh?" "I never wanted to eat a human." It's just rude and too much work hunting them down also gross." "I also love gardening and foraging for food since it's good for the environment."

Being a human in the group is awkward.

Liwanag for their show and tell is cooking show with the knowledge they learned.

Liwanag likes baking desserts like smore's or cinnamon chocolate apple cake.

Tré Loger Orgins

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

Tre was born when a infected realtor was fake "reproducing" with a non infected realtor that let the fungmammal eat them.

Then the seed rolled out the house into the forest that was found by Woodster which wanted to see what it was.

She grabbed the seed and was flying with then found out the seed was heavy then dropped it in a near by tree where it was built as a treehouse with Woodster stuck inside until finished.

That's when they first met.

Tre was the first hybrid realtor.

Infected Realtor Ritual

(Nejiron's were a inspiration for the many fungmammals fake forms that are roleplaying as other uncanny valley creatures with a twist on their abilities and weird moves each species can't do.)

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

This is a rare occurrence of a infected realtor letting a fungmammal eat a non infected realtor.

If the fungmammal's do the ritual to change forms more often then they will draw more attention to themselves which is bad.

They usually choose the weaker more obscure realtors than popular ones since so one will notice them.

But a popular one will cause people to worry something weird is going on and will figure it out.

If a infected realtor would try to eat a healthy popular realtor the healthy realtor would beat up the infected one then will call up the authorities to kidnap the infected realtor to experiment on them or find their weakness.

Plus will probably warn the others about the fungmammals which is a bad thing.

Since fungmammals need realtor's for shelter, food providing, transportation, and to change to a human like form.

Husk realtor's and Hollows are the only two species besides the base form a fungmamml has that actually let's the fungmammals talk instead of telepathy talk since they are basically wearing another species as a suit.

Their true voice is hidden until capture and will use the victims voice instead of their own.

The parasite ones will roleplay as the long dead species right down to knowing names of friends, lovers, and listing all the victims a realtor ate in detail.

Similar to the talk boy toy voice slowed down.

Each Husk Realtor and Hollows attack differently.

This is because each parasite fungmammal uses the past freewill or dreams of both species.

So each battles are different. But with enough info from the past victim you can find the weakness of each form, defeat them, then remove the parasite then destroy it before it tries to copy this info to the other fungmammals.

How it feels to fight a Husk Realtor and Hollow.

Most husk realtor's clone the lure cord to put on one of their arms while hollow's use the left over regular guy dna of the hair mixed with fungi to make ropes.

7:26-7:41

A husk realtor's windows feel like glass and are easily breakable and these species when caught in their true form like to play with their prey by juggling them in the air to tire them out then eat them.

If that doesn't work they can basically do the non canon stuff both realtor and regular guys can't do.

Like both floating around and using the old weakness of both species won't work.

The parasite fungmammal will pretend it worked then laugh it off by brushing off the fire or shaking off the water.

Only frozen and a acid bath will work but you need to snap out both vessel's first or you will kill the both of them in the process.

If you ignore a husk realtor or a hollow they will get bored and tell you to leave. They will gladly let you leave and say you are no fun.

The victim vessel will still be shell of what they used to be.

The parasite fungmammal will revert to a normal realtor or regular guy in a roleplay state until it gets reactivated again.

When both vessel species grab you they will punch you mid grab.

It's best to dodge the grabs or carry some dry ice with you.

The husk realtor's will somtimes used the breakable windows to throw their prey threw it just for fun but to easily kill it to eat.

Both vessel species mainly eat organic material but if that's hard to find then they will eat inorganic materials.

But will sometimes but rarely cannibalize other fungmammal types like the Base Fungmammal, Infected Realtors, Real estate Agents/Brokers, Humanoid Shaped Fungmammals, and Falsepersons.

Some vessel species like making their prey comfortable like giving them items like mushroom tea or food they found and cooked.

I wouldn't take it if I were you it will make you let your guard down and make you super relaxed.

If they hug you it's a sign that you have gave up to be food to them.

But if you give the vessel species a gift like food or objects they will spare you or maybe fall in love.

If you hug the vessel species back they might give out some info about the obscure being they have took over but not too much while tearing up a little.

While in battle Liwanag will be watching and writing notes down for their book to research on these fungmammals.

Flash will also try to help if she isn't a parasite one then she needs to leave the area and if she doesn't leave she might be convinced to fight with the vessel species.

It's hard to snap them out of it.

If you hug the vessel species back they tearing up a little because you are squeezing the water out of them and also it hurt them that they have to rehydrate.

Also sometimes it's emotional.

Another way.

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

There is another way to make a Real Estate Agent/Brooker is if a fungmammal and a long dead realtor's Dna is in the ground soil it can mix together to create one.

This Real Estate Agent/Brooker will the last memories before death of both parties and will scream at first.

The symbol will have the house of the long dead realtor with a X eye on the fungmammal with a SC in the middle of the fungmammal symbol inside the house. (SC means Second chance.)

Sometimes multiple memories of different realtor's will mix together. The fused fungmammals are blanks.

I do have one planned to be a example of one of these SC Real Estate Agent/Broker.

But I need to get his parasite form inked up.

Merve Lively (Movil Koti) reborn as a SC Real Estate Agent/Broker and has a blank butterfly fungmammal.

Merve Lively (Movil Koti) as a SC Real Estate Agent/Broker will sometimes let one of the memories of a long dead infected and non infected realtors talk and act out what happened to them or roleplay it out.

Like how they died with their voice and all.

You have to ask him first.

For example on non infected realtor snatched a person then later their house body was driven in by a car that killed the both of them.

Merve would now act out how the realtor reacted to the car then it blowing up killing the human and the realtor in the process.

Merve will also provide a voice for the ghost realtors if they have any unfinished business like a message but the long dead realtors will take turns with the reborn vessel if Merve dies and the vessel will have a different look and personality but Merve will wait for his turn.

Dating a second chance real estate broker/agent is complicated.

A blog about obscurity stuff, plushies and food. on Tumblr - #Weird Questions I Have

Real Estate Agents/Brokers and Infected Realtor Lore

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

Real Estate Agents/Brokers when they first sprouted up their first thing they do is the 3D print the non infected realtor's original house body for practice.

Once it was stable then they shrink the house then hide it inside their necks along with their wireless lure cord.

The weakness is changed to destroying the mini 3D printed house they are hiding but the fungmammal that fused them won't allow that to happen since it will try to hide the mini house or make a fake one.

Infected realtor's don't really need to eat buyers anymore due to the fungmammal giving up a part of itself to feed the realtor or the parasite infected realtor stealthily snatching some of the fungmammals spores to eat while the parasite fungmammal is distracted.

Some infected realtors just eat normal foods or trash/plastic but some infected realtors still have that buyer hunting instinct still inside of them but still will try every food method.

Infected realtor's eat from the lure body then it travels up the lure cord to the house if the lure body is far away from the home body.

But inside they can eat like a normal realtor does but sometimes they will eat human like.

3D House Building

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

What it sounds like when a Real Estate Brokers/Agents heads when getting to work on building a 3D house by first measuring the dimensions then making the inside.

Music's and videos not mine but link is there.

Mario Artist: Talent Studio - Po Pi Pa Pi - - YouTube

The parasite version sounds the same one but the faster version.

Because they rush making the 3D houses.

Mario Artist: Talent Studio - Po Pi Pa Pi ~ Impatient - - YouTube

Defective Real Estate Agents tend to take longer to make 3-D printed houses but sometimes Mutualism ones help out with the details but Parasitism ones tend to add on unnecessary details then push them out the way to rework it.

What it sounds like.

Mario Artist: Talent Studio - Po Pi Pa Pi ~ Sleepy ZZZ - - YouTube

The commensalism Real Estate Agents act like the mutualism ones but will sometimes stay a little bit after the 3D house is built if the buyer needs anything else or needs to get fix.

You need to tell them to leave if you don't want them there or if you are done with their presence.

If not they will just stay there.

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

Unrelated but love this realtor's look but is mysterious.

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

(Image not mine but my favorite obscure Realtor oc. (susie #seita on Twitter: "There he is my boy! #realtorsona #househunted #househuntedgame #househunted2 game by @mortisfox ! https://t.co/XXNDHUz5aV" / Twitter

Rip to him though. ArtStation - ROOF SHEBANG - uncanny valley )

Images not mine but link is there.

Legend of Zelda Majora's mask: Final boss, Sword and shield battle - YouTube

Video not mine but link is there.

Tiger Deluxe Talkboy | Television Commercial | 1994 | Home Alone 2 - YouTube

A blog about obscurity stuff, plushies and food. on Tumblr - #Lucy

Images, game, and video not mine but links are there.

You Can Live in a Michigan Lighthouse (975now.com)

If the lighthouse lab had a theme.

Planet Dob OST- sometimes i breathe - YouTube

mad scientist clipart - Clip Art Library (clipart-library.com)

#Infected Realtor AU #LightHouse Mad Scientist Realtor #LightHouse #Monster Fungmammal

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bangtanloverboys · 3 years ago

Text

found again // jhs

summary - forever was a very long time to be alone, but it was the safeest way to save yourself the heartache of losing loved ones. despite that, you still find yourself falling in love with hoseok

pairing - hunter!hoseok x immortal female!reader

genre - fluff, angst; reincarnation au

word count - 5.0k

warnings - strangers to lovers, hisorical inaccuracies, reader is centuries old, takes place in late 1700s, “i can fix that”, falling in love, kissing, proposal, mentioning of harming self, major character death, dogs die, im sorry everything i write of hoseok is sad but happy ending!!

author’s note - another fic inspired by ABC Forever, because i love the concept and i miss it

After nearing three centuries of life, one would think they’d get used to being alone. To the quiet still air of an empty home, void of a family. But it never did, you could never get used to it. It wasn’t that you purposefully chose to live a life of solitude, but rather found it the best way to live. If you were alone, you couldn’t get hurt. With no roots, it made moving from place to place easier. The only thing that got you through it all was thinking back on your family.

They were long gone by now, but that didn’t change the fact you still thought of them often. More than once, you would dream of what they would have thought with each place. How your mother would move every bit of furniture until it looked just right, how your father would go on about how far it was from the village, or how your little sisters would run about the cabin entirely, claiming it was perfect.

Several times you would get so caught up in your daydreams, you would even call out to them, only for your voice to die out before their names could even fully fall past your lips. Each time you’d wince at your own foolishness, before sighing, returning to the task you were doing.

That was simply how you lived until the day that Hoseok arrived.

You were deep into the woods, picking wild berries when a rustling was heard from across the clearing you were in. Cautiously, you made your way over to the rustling bushes. Right as you were about to peek behind them, a young man popped out from behind them. You let out a scream as you stumbled back, tripping over your skirt and sending you tumbling into the dirt.

“Oh my- I’m so sorry!” The young man spoke as he rushed over to you, helping you back to your feet.

“What were you doing? Were you watching me?!” You exclaimed, pushing him away from you as soon as you stood up.

“No! I promise. I was hunting when my dogs stopped.” It was then you were suddenly aware of the two dog heads that poked out from the branches. “I thought they caught a scent of maybe a deer but uh, seems like they found you,” he chuckled nervously, before his eyebrows shot up. “Where are my manners, I’m Hoseok,” he said, holding his hand out for you.

You stared at it for a moment, before you gave him your name, placing your hand in his. Your hand in his grip, he raised your knuckles to his lips for a kiss.

“Pleasure to meet you.” You swore your face grew hot at those words. It had been years since any man had shown you any sort of affection, even if it was the smallest bit. “What are you doing out here?”

“I- uh, berries.” You gestured to your basket that you left across the clearing. “Collecting some for a pie.” You’re unsure why you felt nervous all of a sudden, but with Hoseok’s gaze on your, it made it difficult to not feel shy.

“Berry pie? Oh that sounds delicious.”

Before you could even comprehend what you were thinking, you found yourself asking, “Would you like some?”

“Pardon?” He furrowed his brows at you.

“I mean,” you cringed at yourself before you started over, “would you like to come over? It should only take a few hours?”

A smile lit up his face, and you swear you don’t think you’ve ever seen a more beautiful smile. “I would love that.” The both of you walked across the field, picking up your basket as you reentered the forest, heading into the direction of your cottage. Glancing behind you, you saw the two bloodhounds following close on his heels. No doubt noticing how you kept glancing behind him, he introduced them. “Their names are Mickey and Ann.”

“They’re beautiful,” you complimented.

The rest of the journey back to your cottage was in silence, but it was not uncomfortable. Reaching your small little property, you felt uneasiness wash over you as you motioned to your small cottage. It was already several years old by the time you moved into it, windows didn’t shut right and it took a couple nudges to fully close the door; but it was home. If Hoseok thought any less of it, he didn’t say anything, besides ordering the two dogs to stay put at the front door.

Once inside, you began to prepare the pie crust. On occasion, you’d glance up at Hoseok who was staring at the small things you had collected over your life, mainly assorted coins from each country you visited and a few books. Picking one of them up, he began to flip through it.

“Do you actually understand this?” He asked, gesturing to the words on the page.

“Italian? Yes.” No doubt it was probably one of the first languages you learned when you discovered your affliction. Over the past few centuries, you found out you had quite the knack for picking up languages.

“You must’ve had some fancy schooling,” he whistled as he set the book down.

“Not really,” you flushed as you kneaded the dough. “Just knew someone who taught it to me.”

“Family?” He asked.

You shook your head no. A small Italian artist took you under her wing for a handful of years, deeming you her muse. In return for being the source of her inspiration, she taught you her language.

“Where is your family?”

The question had you cease your kneading. You should have known the question would’ve been asked at some point or another. Not to mention, you were somewhat of an enigma to the nearby village. A young well read woman from far away living in a small abandoned cottage, what could you possibly be doing all the way out here? No one ever said anything to you about it, but you knew they certainly thought something of it, judging by the stares you received when you’d walk into town. If he’d ever been, there was a strong possibility he knew of you already.

“Gone,” you answered, resuming your kneading. “Just me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that.” His voice was soft as he apologized, like he regretted asking.

“Not your fault, they’ve been gone for a while.” A long while.

The comfortable silence was gone, replaced with an air of tension. Like a string held so taught that the smallest movement would cause it to snap. The topic of your family always stung, no matter how much time had passed.

Quite possibly wanting to ease the awkward atmosphere he created, Hoseok quietly made his way over to you in your small kitchen. Standing beside you, he smiled.

“What can I do to help?”

Pushing down the butterflies that had erupted in your stomach, you stepped to the side and handed him the basket of wildberries you collected. “Make the filling?”

The rest of the afternoon consisted of both of you struggling to make the pie. Hoseok apparently wasn’t all that good with following directions as whenever you turned your back to do something, he would try and sneak a nibble at the filling. On occasion, he’d inquire about your knowledge of languages; curious to learn different phrases. It was only when you put the pie in the oven did Hoseok finally cease his linguistic questions. Sitting on a stool, you allowed yourself to catch your breath as you watched the young hunter, who’s gaze was fixated on your roof.

You were well aware of the shape your cottage was in, due to its old age it was in constant need of repairs. The most important one being the leaks in the roof, thankfully it was the dry season so you didn’t have to go about fixing them just yet, but you knew you’d have to get to it eventually.

“I can fix that.” He gestured up to the roof.

“Can you really?” You raised a brow at him.

“Consider it my way of repaying you for the pie.”

And that was the beginning of your friendship with Hoseok. He’d stop by every other day, tools in hand and work on sealing up your roof. A few times, he’d even bring in a few of his kills, offering it to you to make some dinner. Each time you refused, but he always insisted.

“A lady needs her food.”

A little over a week had passed and Hoseok finished the roof. It was then you realized how badly you hated being alone. You’d missed having someone to talk to, to cook for. Having grown so used to his presence in that week, you pointed to the old busted chicken coop that resided on your property. It had been empty since you’d moved in and you thought having fresh eggs from a nice chicken coop would be nice. Without hesitating, he agreed to fix the coop. And your front door, and your windows, and your fence. Each time he completed something, you found something new for him to fix.

While he worked on repairs, you’d either read or cook up dinner, not only for you and him, but for his dogs as well. Mickey and Ann were complete sweethearts, waiting patiently by the front door for their owner to come in and join you all for food. When he was working on your windows, more than once you saw him peeking through as you sat at your kitchen table reading as Mickey laid his head on your lap.

Eventually, the cottage was practically brand new. There was nothing else to be fixed and you had to prepare yourself to say goodbye to Hoseok. Your heart ached as he walked away from your home for the last time, his dogs trailing behind him. The following morning, you resumed your usual chores and activities; tending to your (new) chickens, work in your garden, and reread your books.

You’d been fighting off tears all day, and it was as you were preparing supper that the tears began to fall. Perhaps it was foolish of you to get attached to him anyways. No matter what would have happened, it would’ve turned out the way it usually did: with you disappearing.

A knock on your door, pulled you from your thoughts. For a moment you were confused, no one ever from the village ever came up to visit, you wondered what could’ve happened. Quickly, you wiped the tears from your eyes and made your way over to the door, where the unknown visitor knocked away.

“Coming, I’m coming!” You called as you swung the door open, revealing- “Hoseok?”

The young man was at your door, a handful of freshly killed quails in hand, and both hounds standing behind him, panting happily. “What, I’m not late am I?”

“No, no,” you shook your head, “that’s not it at all. I just- I wasn’t expecting you?”

“Why wouldn’t you be expecting me? I thought we had a nice little arrangement going on?” He questioned.

“We did, but I have nothing else for you to fix so I assumed-”

“Y/N,” he cut you off. Cupping your cheek, you had no choice but to look up into his sweet, adoring face. “I thought it was pretty obvious you wanted me around for some other reason besides being your handyman.”

Feeling your face grow hot, you slowly nodded.

He chuckled at you softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “So is it alright, I come over for supper?”

“Of course,” you breathed out. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so happy in so long.

So the two of you fell into a routine of sorts, he would stop by some meat for you to cook for your supper. Over the meal, you’d catch up on your day to day activities. By the time the food was gone, and you were with full bellies, Hoseok would excuse himself.

“Goodnight, I’ll see you in the morning,” was what he would say as he left your cottage for his own home, somewhere in town. A few times you’d stayed up so late that it was well past midnight, so you offered him your place for the night. Purely because you didn’t want him out so late, but each time he refused; saying it wouldn’t be right.

Slowly, your dinner meetings would begin happening in the day time. The last few days of summer were upon you and you wanted to spend it with Hoseok, having a picnic with him.

You dragged him up a tall grassy hill, basket full of bread, cheese, and jam. He laughed as he allowed you to pull him up towards the top, Mickey and Ann trailing behind at his heels, barking happily. Hoseok allowed the dogs to wander around the area, occasionally calling them back if they went too far.

All set up, you both sat down and enjoyed your lunch. It wasn’t long after you finished that you scooted closer to him, and closer until your hands were almost touching. You were about to slip your hand underneath his when Hoseok’s hand moved, taking your’s and placing it in his. His hands were rough to the touch, small calluses riddled his palms. A smile playing on your lips, you rested your head on his shoulder.

Neither of you moved for hours as you watched the day go by from that little spot on the hill, relishing in the late summer sun. Out of all the years you lived, you had to think that that moment there was the most peaceful. There was no need to run, no overwhelming sense of loss, just you and Hoseok.

“What was your family like?” He questioned.

Taking a deep breath, you began talking about your late family. “My father was a miller, he’d often take me on his runs to deliver flour, giving me a little sack to carry as well,” you smiled fondly at the memory, the villagers chuckling at you as you teetered behind him. “When I was even younger, I used to lay down by the fire and watch my mother sew. . . scolding me for growing up so fast.”

“Did you have any siblings?”

“I had two younger sisters, parents weren’t able to have anymore after the youngest,” you sighed, remembering how hard your parents tried. “They adored flowers, wanting to cover the cottage we lived in with honeysuckle and wild flowers.” Your vision started to get blurry as tears welled up in your eyes.

“They sound wonderful,” Hoseok murmured.

“Yeah, they were. . .” You sighed, blinking back the tears.

“Hey,” he pulled his shoulder away to look at you. “You’re okay, it’s okay.” Hoseok’s hand moved to cup your cheek, brushing the stray hairs from your face. “Your parents are looking down on you, so proud of the woman you are today.”

Meeting Hoseok’s eyes, you’re overwhelmed with the love and adoration pouring from his gaze. Never in your three hundred years had a person ever looked at you that way. As much as you wanted to give into his love, you were scared of the inevitable. One day Hoseok would begin to age and he would notice you still look the same as the day you met. He would grow old before your eyes, leaving you no choice but to leave him broken hearted. To love him would be selfish of you.

The sound of his voice calling your name pulled you from your spiral. You watched as his eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment, before he slowly leaned in. For the first time ever time felt like it stood still. There was no inevitable ticking clock, no fear or thoughts of the future. Just you and Hoseok, on that grassy hill on a late August day.

You should’ve known better than to have let him kiss you, as you knew as soon as you felt his lips on yours, there was no way you’d be able to let him go. Being alone for so many years, perhaps this time you could allow yourself to be selfish. One day you’d tell him about your curse, but until that day came, you were going to let yourself be with him.

As the seasons changed, your relationship with Hoseok only grew stronger. He’d visit you daily, bringing gifts of flowers, baked goods, and other assorted courting gifts. The two of you would spend all day together, reading or he’d help you take care of your chickens. Each night, he would leave, despite your insistence on him spending the night.

“I’m courting you, let me do this right,” he whispered once as he kissed you goodnight.

While you appreciated the sweet sentiment, he should’ve known your relationship was anything but orthodox. If your mother was still around, she surely would’ve been scandalized to hear you kissed him before you even married him. In fact the more you thought about it, the more horrified your mother would be at what you’ve done before marriage. But despite everything you may have done in the past, everything with Hoseok felt like a first.

Whenever Hoseok was with you, never did it feel like time was passing. Like it was only the two of you in your own little bubble of the world, frozen in time. Thoughts of your curse were far from your mind, but each time he left for the night, you knew you had to tell him eventually.

As the days grew colder, that ache you felt in your heart only became more apparent. Soon, you’d think to yourself, I’ll tell him soon. But it couldn’t come soon enough.

Snow soon covered the land, leaving you and Hoseok nothing much but to huddle yourselves inside your cottage. Both of you were huddled in front of your fireplace, desperate to keep warm. Hoseok’s dogs were curled up beside you as well, Mickey’s head resting on your lap as you lazily stroked his fur with one hand. You were rereading one of your novels, simply enjoying the warmth of the fire when you could feel Hoseok’s eyes on you. It wasn’t uncommon that he would stare at you as you did any sort of task, but there was something different about him. Behind his eyes, there was a particularly soft warm glow, making your body feel a thousand times more warmed than the heat of the fire in front of you.

“What are you staring at me like that for?” You finally asked, setting your book down.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Within an instant you felt your cheeks warmed by his words. “Yes,” you responded shyly, avoiding meeting his eyes.

Scooting closer to you, he took the book out of your hand, placing it off to the side. Both hands now free, he took them in his as he said your name. “I don’t know how else to say this but, I love you. I don’t know exactly when I fell for you, but I don’t think I ever want to stop.” Removing one hand from yours, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a delicate copper band.

A gasp escaped your lips as he held out the ring for you.

“It would give me the greatest pleasure, if you were to be my wife.”

“Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, yes!” You repeated as he slipped the ring onto your finger. Not even looking at it, you threw your arms over his shoulders. Unprepared for your sudden movement, you both went tumbling to the floor, the dogs whined as they rushed to move away from your colliding bodies. You pressed your mouth to his, smiling into it as he returned your kiss.

Until that moment, all your kisses had been brief. Fleeting kisses of hellos and goodbyes, never lasting more than a second. This kiss was different. His hands held your gently at your hips, keeping you in place on top of him. A fire ignited deep in you as you kissed him, you didn’t want to let him go now, not tonight. Keenly, you began peppering Hoseok’s entire face with kisses. His grip on you tightened as your lips traveled lower along the side of his jaw, nibbling at his neck.

“Wait,” his words came out in a groan. Calling your name, you only responded by moving back up to his lips, wanting to kiss him again. “No, not yet.”

“Hoseok, please,” you whined, breathless from the kiss.

“I know, I know, my love,” he panted as his hand came up to cup your face. “It’s getting late,” he sighed, noticing how dark the sky was outside once you were both sitting up again.

“You could stay the night,” you offered once again. Before he could protest, you continued. “Besides, we’re engaged now. What difference would it make?”

Hoseok rolled your eyes at the logic. “The difference is I would like my first time with you, to be with you as my wife.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you huffed as he stood up, gathering his things for him to leave.

Once all his things were together, he lowered his head down, kissing you one last time. “Goodnight, my love. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Hoseok and his dogs left just like they would any other night.

You stared at the door, waiting for the faint crunches of his footsteps in the snow to disappear. Now alone, you knew you had to tell him. Hopefully his love for you would trump any doubts he would have. While you could try to hurt yourself as proof, you doubt he’d want to see you harmed. Death was a jarring thing, no matter if you were to come back or not. Regardless of the outcome, you knew you’d tell him tomorrow.

The following day, you got up like you would any other. You got yourself dressed, and began your daily activities. Everything was the way it normally was, but something felt off. You couldn’t place what was, but you knew deep down that something wasn’t right.

Covering yourself with a thick shawl, you made your way over towards your chicken coop. Picking out the eggs from your hens, ready to make something for breakfast. Once you had enough, you made your way back over to your house. It was then you heard barking.

Turning your head, you saw the familiar faces of Mickey and Ann, but there was no Hoseok. Setting the basket down, you lowered yourself to the ground, ready to greet the hounds.

“Hey, hey,” you cooed as you pet the dogs, both of them clearly very distressed. “What’s going on? Where’s Hoseok?” As the mention of his name, Mickey barked at you while Ann whined, pulling at your skirts.

“Excuse me, miss.” A new voice called from across the way. Looking up, recognizing the face as the innkeeper. You’d seen him a few times in town and Hoseok spoke of him often, as he had been renting one of his rooms the past few months. “You knew Hoseok, correct?”

“He’s my fianceé,” you responded cautiously as you straightened up. You hugged your shawl tighter around you as the innkeeper’s eyes saddened at your words. “Why? What happened?”

“I’m very sorry for your loss, miss.”

“What?” That moment, you could’ve sworn your heart stopped. Deep down, you wish it did. No, Hoseok couldn’t be gone. It couldn’t be. You wanted to accuse the innkeeper of lying, or perhaps he mistook someone for Hoseok. But the look in his eyes was clear: Hoseok was dead.

A ringing started in your ears as you stumbled back into your cabin, the dogs following after you. Barely able to hear any other word the innkeeper might’ve said, but it didn’t matter anyways. Hoseok was gone. There couldn’t be anything else to be said.

Alone once again in your home, you collapsed onto the ground. Opening your mouth, a deafening wail passed your lips. You had died a number of times by now; you’d been poisoned, stabbed, hung, shot, drowned. You’ve felt almost every measure of pain there was, but nothing compared to the pain you felt when you’d lost your beloved Hoseok.

You became a ghost of yourself after that day. Simply going through the motions of each day. Your only company was Mickey and Ann, who too missed their late owner. They were your only comfort, knowing that taking care of them was something Hoseok would’ve wanted you to do. Every night, they slept on your bed, curled up beside you as you lazily pet their aging bodies.

Ann was the first to die. 10 years have passed since you lost Hoseok. You’d moved out of that cottage a few years prior, knowing it was only a matter of time before the village had caught on to your affliction. The move was particularly hard on the two hounds, not wanting to move far from the only town they’d ever known. But you had no choice. It became very apparent that Ann wished to return, always sleeping by the door, hoping you’d change your mind. That’s how you found her one spring morning, lying quietly by the door, having passed in her sleep.

You buried her in your garden, under a bed of roses.

Having lost both his sister and Hoseok, Mickey followed soon after. He rarely left your bed, only getting up to eat or to go outside. It was only three months later did you bury him beside Ann.

The only reminder you had left of Hoseok was the ring on your finger. You rarely took it off your finger, fearing that one day you might forget it or Hoseok. Often you’d find yourself staring at the copper band. It was simple, bearing no special engravings or jewels, but it became your most prized possession.

Unfortunately, time didn’t stay still for you to wallow in your misery. You had to keep moving forward. But as time moved on, so did the world around you. It was strange how fast technology advanced, but as helpful as it was to the people around you, it became your worst nightmare. It became harder and harder to disappear, small towns and far away cabins no longer felt like the safe haven they once were. Which was how you found yourself deep in the city.

It was strange how easy it was to disappear, to simply become another face in the crowd. No one spared you a second glance, no matter how many times you may have seen them over the years, no one recognized you and your lack of aging. As long as you kept to yourself, you managed to stay hidden in plain sight.

Off the corner of 3rd street, you had your own little hole in the wall bookstore. You purchased the store from a sweet old couple a few years back, it was a quaint little bookshop, already having its own group of loyal customers. On occasion, you would get a few new faces, but it was usually the same ones everyday.

Until today when you saw a face you hadn’t seen in almost 300 years.

Per your usual morning routine, you were taking inventory of the store when you heard the bell over the front door ring. “I’ll be with you in just a moment!” You called out, trying to finish the last few rows of books. Finished, you made your way back towards the front of the store, dusting your hands off. “Well, is there anything I can help you with-” You stopped dead in your tracks as you saw the man you had entered your store. His eyes were cast downwards and he looked over the titles of the front shelves. Hearing your arrival, familiar dark eyes faced you.

“I’m just browsing,” he said, lips curling into a smile you swore you almost forgot.

In front of you, was Hoseok. It was, had to be. He looked every bit the same as that cold winter night when you last saw him. Your mouth opened and closed several times, before you finally gained your senses.

“Well, just, let me know if there’s anything specific you had in mind,” you responded, smiling as you spun around on your heel, wanting to make a break for your back office.

“Actually, there might be something.”

Swallowing thickly, you turned back to face him. “Oh?”

“I’m thinking of getting into cooking, do you have any cookbook recommendations?” He asked.

“Y-yeah, follow me.” Quickly, you walked over towards your cookbook section, feeling his eyes on you as you walked him over to the shelves. Dragging your fingers over the spines, you pulled out the one you were looking for. It was an older copy, you recognized from the late 80s. Inside were recipes of different types of baked goods and other dishes. “This one, I think I’ve made just about everything in it twice,” you said, pulling it off the shelf and handing it to him.

As the man flipped through the pages, you found yourself fiddling with the ring that now hung around your neck. Long ago, you strung a chain through it, nearly losing it down the drain. You stared at him in front of you, still not able to wrap your head around it. After nearly six hundred years, you don’t think you’ve ever seen the same face twice. Maybe this was your second chance with him, to start over again. But at the same time, you knew it would be foolish. The man in front of you was a complete stranger, not Hoseok. For all you know, he could be completely different than your long lost fianceé.

Shutting the book, he nodded. “This is perfect.”

Shaking you from your thoughts, you nodded. “Great. I’ll ring you up over here.” Walking back towards the cash register, you both fell into a silence as you rang him up. “Alright, here you go,” you smiled, handing him the book.

“Thank you so much.” Cookbook and receipt in hand, he made his way towards the front door. He couldn’t go just yet, there was something you needed to know.

“Wait!” You called out right as he placed his hand on the door. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?”

That brilliant smile played on his lips again as he responded. “Jung Hoseok.”

#btsghostie #jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x reader #hoseok fluff #bts x reader #bts fluff #hoseok fanfic #hoseok angst #bts angst

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ailuronymy · 3 years ago

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do you think every disabled character in wc is handled poorly? i understand theres def some cases of ableism but at the same time when i hear ppl say that its usually bc the disabled cat wasnt able to become a warrior due to their disability. and i feel like ppl forget, that not everyone irl CAN do what they want after they become disabled. ex. someone wants to be an athlete, but their legs have to be amputated. a cat like briarlight esp i feel is p realistic and could be a source of comfort

Hello there, thank you for writing in. I’m going to reply to this question with a series of questions I think are a bit more useful, given what you’re trying to ask me. I hope that’ll clarify what is a deeply complex, multilayered issue.

Do I think Erin Hunter handles anything in the series “well”? Not really. I don’t have a high opinion of the work of the collective and, broadly speaking, I think every right note they play, metaphorically speaking, is an instance of chance rather than effort, skill, or intention. Stopped clocks are right twice a day, mediocre writers will sometimes do something cool by accident, similar principle. That’s not to say Erin Hunter hasn’t ever done anything on purpose--just that overall the underlying drive of the series isn’t so much quality as it is quantity, and speed of production, and it shows.

Do I think Erin Hunter puts any significant research into how they portray disability? No. I do not think it is a priority for this series. They’re not trying to make a meaningful work of literature, or capture a realistic experience of disability, or tell especially impactful or thoughtful stories, or even make a particularly good or coherent fantasy world. Warriors is a specifically commercial product that was commissioned by HarperCollins to appeal to a particular demographic of drama-loving, cat-loving kids. It’s not really trying to do anything but sell books, because it’s a business, so the text in many ways reflects that. They’re not going for disability representation, in my opinion. They’re including disability in many cases as a plot-point or an obstacle.

Do I think this means that people can’t connect to these characters and narratives in meaningful ways? No. Often I say that a work is completed only when it is read. Before that point, it doesn’t have a meaning: a reader finishes the work through the act of reading, and interpretation, and filling in the spaces and resonance of the story with their own values and experiences. When people talk about subjectivity, this is what they are talking about. What this means in the context of disabled characters in Warriors is that these characters and their stories can be multiple, conflicting, even mutually exclusive things at the same time, to different people, for different reasons.

Do I think characters have to be “good” to be significant to someone? No. I think genuinely “bad” (i.e., not researched or poorly researched, cliche, thoughtlessly written, problematic, etc. etc.) characters can be deeply meaningful, and often are. Ditto above: for many people, and especially marginalised or stigmatised people, reading is almost always an act of translation, wherein the person is reading against the creative work of the dominant culture in a way that the author likely didn’t intend or didn’t even imagine. There’s a long documented history of this in queer culture, but it’s true for just about everyone who is rarely (or unfairly) represented in media. Disabled people often have to read deeply imperfect works of fiction featuring disability and reinterpret them in the process--whether to relate to a kind of disability they don’t experience themselves but which is the closest they’re offered to something familiar, or to turn positive and meaningful what is intended as narrative punishment, or simply to create what’s commonly called headcanon about “non-disabled” characters who echo their personal experiences.

Do I think everyone has to agree? Extremely no. As I said before, people will actually always disagree, because all people have different needs and different experiences. What can be interpreted as empowering to one person might be very othering and painful for another. There is no “right” answer, because, again, that is how subjectivity works. This is especially true because marginalised communities are often many different kinds of people with different lives and needs brought together over a trait or traits they share due to the need for solidarity as protection and power--but only in a broad sense. It’s why there is often intracommunity fighting over representation: there isn’t enough, there’s only scraps, and so each person’s personal interpretation can feel threatening to people whose needs are different. You can see examples of this especially when it comes to arguments over character sexuality: a queer female character might be interpreted as bisexual by bisexual people who relate to her and want her to be, while being interpreted as lesbian by lesbians who also relate to her and want her to be like them. Who is correct? Often these different interpretations based on different needs are presented as if one interpretation is theft from the other, when in fact the situation is indicative of the huge dearth of options for queer people. It becomes increasingly more intense when it comes to “canon” representations, because of the long history of having to read against the grain I mentioned above: there’s novelty and, for some people, validation in “canon” certainty. And again, all of this is also true for disabled people and other stigmatised groups.

Do I think this is a problem? Not exactly. It is what it is. It is the expected effect of the circumstances. Enforced scarcity creates both the need for community organising and solidarity and the oppressive pressure to prioritise one’s self first and leave everyone else in the dust (or else it might happen to you). The system will always pit suppressed people against each other constantly, because it actively benefits from intracommunity fighting. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these, and so on. A solution is absolutely for everyone in community to hold space for these different needs and values, and to uplift and support despite these differences, but it’s not anyone’s fault for feeling threatened or upset when you don’t have much and feel like the thing that you do have is being taken away. It’s a normal, if not really helpful, human response. But until people learn and internalised that the media is multifaceted and able to be many things at once, without any of those things being untrue or impacting your truth of the text, then there will be fighting.

Do I think my opinion on disability on Warriors is all that important? No, not really. I can relate to some characters in some moment through that translation, but my opinion on, say, Jayfeather is nowhere near as worthy of consideration than that of someone who is blind. I don’t have that experience and it’s not something I can bring meaningful thinking about, really. That’s true for all these characters. If you want to learn about disability, prioritise reading work about disabled rights and activism that is done by disabled people, and literary criticism from disabled people. And as I mentioned above, remember that community isn’t a monolith: it’s a survival tactic, that brings together many different people with disparate experiences of the world. So research widely.

Finally--do I think there’s only one kind of disabled narrative worth telling? No. For some people, a disabled character achieving a specific, ability-focused dream is a good story. For other people, a story that acknowledges and deals with the realities, and limitations, of disability is a good story. The same person might want both of those stories at different times, depending on their mood. That’s okay. Sometimes there’s power and delight in a fantasy of overcoming seemingly impossible obstacles and defying all expectations. Sometimes there’s value and catharsis in a narrative that delves into the challenges and grief and oppression experienced because of disability. There’s no one truth.

To round all this off, I’m going to give my favourite example of this, which is Cinderella. I think it’s a great and useful tool, since for many it’s familiar and it’s very simple. Not much happens. In the story, she is bullied and tormented, until a fairy godmother gifts her over several nights with the opportunity to go to a royal ball, where she dances with a prince. The prince eventually is able to find Cinderella, due to a shoe left behind, and they are married. In some versions, the family that mistreated her are killed. In others, they’re forgiven.

Some people hate the story of Cinderella, because she is seen as passive. She tolerates the bullying and never fights back. She does every chore she’s told. She is given an opportunity by a fairy godmother, and she doesn’t help herself go to the ball. She runs from the prince and he does the work to find her again. Eventually, she’s married and the prince, presumably, keeps her in happiness and comfort for the rest of her life.

For some, this story is infuriating, because Cinderella doesn’t “save herself”: she is largely saved by external forces. She is seen as a quintessential damsel-in-distress, and especially for people who have been bullied, infantalised, or made to feel less capable or weak, that can be a real point of personal pain and discomfort.

However, for some others, Cinderella is a figure of strength, because she is able to endure such hostile environments and terrible people and never gives up her gentle nature or her hope. She never becomes cruel, or bitter. She is brave in daring to go outside her tiny, trapped world, and she is brave to let the prince find her. She doesn’t have to fight or struggle to earn her reward of happiness and prove her worth, because she was always deserving of love and kindness. The prince recognises at once, narratively speaking, her goodness and virtue, and stops at nothing to deliver her a better life.

Depending on the version, the wicked family disfigure themselves for their own greed--or are punished, which for some is a revenge fantasy; or Cinderella forgives them and once again shows her tenacious kindness, which for others is a different revenge fantasy.

The point? Cinderella is the same character in the same story, but these are almost unrecognisable readings when you put them side-by-side. Which one is right? Which one is better? In my opinion, those are the wrong questions. I hope this (long, sorry) reply is a set of more useful ones.

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qm-vox · 3 years ago

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So You Want To Play A Fairest

(Portrait of Erin Peters by cantankerousAquarius. The character originally appeared in Night Horrors: Grim Fears, published by White Wolf; catch my take on her in New Avalon)

Previous Articles: So You Want To Play A Beast, So You Want To Play A Wizened, So You Want To Play An Elemental, So You Want To Play An Ogre, & So You Want To Play A Darkling

You ever wonder, flipping through a Monster Manual for D&D, or a Bestiary for Pathfinder, why nymphs and hags are both always, always, women? It’s older than you know. Dig into the sordid history of tabletops and you’ll find sylphs that Gary Gygax wrote, Chaotic charmers who use mind control to reproduce with non-sylph men; you’ll find the legacy of the matriarchal drow, who follow a mad goddess, and you’ll find the medusae, whose sexual dimorphism is so complete that their men are beautiful and can turn stone into people.

Dredge deeper and you’ll find the tales that Gygax and his wretched ilk based such creatures off of.

You ever wonder why we assign such powerful Gender to creatures of beauty and horror?

Fairest don’t. They know, every time they wake up from a nightmare that is also a wet dream. They know, every time they get hit on at the bar and have to decide how they’re playing this. They know, every time they look in a mirror and see not their own face, but the ten thousand horrors that made it beautiful.

If you are very patient, and lucky, and kind, they might tell you why.

If you aren’t, they may show you.

This article draws primarily on Changeling: the Lost and Winter Masques, as well as Swords at Dawn and Night Horrors: Grim Fears. Other sources, when used, will be cited. It requires Content Warnings for sexual violence, sexual slavery, abuse, gaslighting, addiction, substance abuse, self-harm, self-image problems, mentions of fascists & fascist ideology, and just, so very much incel bullshit.

Bonus Material Part Two: The Seeming Part

The end of this article, just past the customary Sample Fairest, will include some additional material intended to help you select a Seeming for your character and otherwise build them up as one of the Lost, much as So You Want To Run A Spring Court included material for Courts as a topic.

Take Me To Wonderland - Fairest Overview

Fairest is the fourth Seeming presented in Changeling: the Lost and possibly the most confused about its own identity. Its sections in Winter Masques present depths and nuance that are completely absent in core, essentially making Winter Masques required reading for Fairest players in a way that no other book is - especially since Fairest keep getting written in a particular way alluded to in the Ogre article, which I will expand on later in this article. Fairest is numerically well-represented in canon and popular in the fanbase, home to many memorable character concepts, but its bones with folklore and tradition are weaker than it fronts as.

Ogres and Darklings claim an innate relationship to physical violence; so too do the Fairest claim a relationship to violence. The violence of Perception and its dark twin, Judgement; of Rumor and its mad dog, Prejudice, the violence of Lies and their merciless master, Truth. Fairest, alone among the Lost, have casual access to the resources of a society that refuses to service or acknowledge Changelings, and with access to that society comes both opportunity and temptation. To be Fairest is to wield power that many other Lost cannot, but the opportunity that power offers is a lie; a Fairest can smile until her face breaks like a mirror, but she’ll never be “sane” enough for the masses to see her as anything but a useful pet.

Life’s Lush Lips - Homecoming As A Fairest

Fairest can make the dubious claim of having the least clear memories of Arcadia amongst all the Lost, with Darklings and Beasts jockeying for second place. This isn’t to say that the experiences Fairest have are necessarily more intense or more inherently traumatic than that of other Lost, but rather that the abuse Fairest suffer is so emotional, so targeted at their perception of their selves and their situations and their self-image, that the memories which do form are inevitably colored by those emotions, coloring the dreams they have of Arcadia with both the emotional resonances they had at the time and with their later attempts to grapple with their own trauma and transformation. For many Fairest, who cannot trust even their strongest memory dreams, attempts to understand their own Durance must rely either on the word of their Keepers (and Faeries lie, oh, how they lie), or on reverse-engineering their own behavior to try and conceive of a trauma that could cause it.

Inevitably, however, some things are seared into their minds. For almost all Fairest, their Keeper is high on the list of things they remember with absolute clarity. Other facts, shattered and scattered, vary more widely. Erin Peters remembers stretched years kept in a cold, dark room lit only by her own hatred; every detail of her cell is scorched onto the back of her eyes, but the otherworldly balls her Keeper took her to blur together like food coloring in syrup. The slaves of the Candle Countess have terrible nightmares of the choices they were confronted with, the decision, offered over and over again, to become complicit in the Countess’s cruelty or to be victimized by it. Metallic Flowering from the Shining City struggle not to use drugs to mimic the rush of pleasure they’ve grown used to receiving for performing their jobs well; they also scream in terror if people touch them. A Draconic and a Shadowsoul both remember being used for the sexual pleasure of alien horrors; the one dreams of coiled scales and terrible teeth, the other a lifetime of lurking in an alien maze, tasked to perform the duties of a living trap for the “wicked” and “unwary” who had not yet shed the last vestiges of kindness.

There are no “wild” Fairest. For worse and worse still, to be Fairest is to have been defined by the inescapable and all-consuming attentions of your abuser, and it is this more than anything that other Lost so often fail to understand about the Fairest. Their Keepers heap them with reward and punishment, manipulating the Fairest with honeyed praise, godly wrath, gaslighting, neglect, withholding food, wondrous rewards, drugs from beyond the realms of earthly pleasure, and other hooks and crooks designed to make the Fairest dependent upon their abuser. It is hideously effective, and the first obstacle, maybe even the mightiest, that a Fairest faces to their escape is the simple horror and joy of being alone again. Their masters will try other tricks to keep them in place - tempting them with pleasures, horrific punishments, oh-so-sincere apologies - but before a Fairest can escape into the Hedge she must face, in her mind’s eye, the lonely flight back to the Iron Lands.

The memories that draw Fairest home often have parallels to their experiences in Arcadia. A slave in the Shining City bites into an otherworldly pastry and recalls her grandmother’s pie in its place; the bride of the Demon Lover, curled up under the sheets, thinks about the broken smile of the boyfriend she left behind at home. A Dancer remembers the roller rink where he fell in love with skating, while across the endless tides of the Fairest of Lands, a Shadowsoul holds on like grim death to years of work at haunted houses, scaring kids for fun and for Halloween. Fairest, so famous for their skill at words, struggle to articulate to other Lost why this should be so. Darklings assume it’s because these memories are less intense than Arcadia, and that the Fairest are fleeing to safety. Beasts get it a bit more right by thinking that these memories taste like home. The truth of the matter is that those memories have an intrinsic and nameless meaning; the highs and lows of Arcadia are divine, flawless, absolute, and therefore worthless. They are the proclamations of merciless gods. What draws the Fairest home, more than pain and pleasure they can have on their own terms, is the understanding that those gestures - for weal or for woe or for anything else besides - were made because someone cared about them, personally. Once they fully internalize that their abuser views them as disposable, the Fairest comes home to someone who won’t.

Three Kiths And Flowering Is One And A Half Of Them - Fairest Kiths

Yeah we’re about to be like that about it.

All Fairest can excel in the social arena; their Blessing can be used to flare almost every social roll in the game, and Fairest can never be caught off-guard in a social context (they suffer no untrained penalties to social rolls). With the sole exception of Empathy (usually rolled with Wits) and sometimes Streetwise, there’s no time a Fairest can’t fall back on their words and expect to win through or at least buy time. This is, as you might imagine, a godsend when it comes to attempts to pass in mortal society; Fairest can usually front, charm, bluff, or Manners(tm) their way through things like renting an apartment, nailing a job interview, asking their roommate to do the FUCKING DISHES, or getting stopped by a cop, but both the books and the fanbase miss something here. While Fairest are superb at active social events, they’re no better at keeping a lid on themselves (Composure-based rolls) than mortals are - and given both the nature of their trauma and the fact that they are, you know, Lost, Fairest have a lot more to keep a lid on day-to-day than the human society they’re trying to blend into. Thankfully, Fairest are pretty good at being able to politely leave a situation and go somewhere else to scream, shout, cry, or have a psychotic break, as appropriate.

Of course, Fairest can’t make something from nothing. As discussed in So You Want To Play An Ogre, you can’t win a social game someone else refuses to sit down to, and social rolls shouldn’t be mind control. All the Glamour in the world can’t make your roommate do the FUCKING DISHES if they’re deep in the throes of executive dysfunction, nor can it make the cashier at Walgreens fail to card you for wine when their computer literally won’t advance without an ID. People who are keyed up about honeyed words or whose own trauma came at the hands of manipulators and abusers might refuse to play that game on the terms the Fairest is setting, which makes it hard to, as it were, turn this problem into a nail. Lurking down this path as well is the specter of becoming like the masters who made you this way; if you get used to saying what will get people to listen to you, eventually you start seeing people as enrichment puzzles that dispense the things you want. Madness waits down that road, and it waits for Fairest with a giant spiked bat, thanks to their Seeming Curse.

There’s no pretty way to say this so I won’t: Fairest are always on the verge of losing their minds. Their curse hits them with a flat penalty to all rolls against losing Clarity, which means that Fairest lose Clarity faster than other Lost and they do so more consistently. This necessitates a balancing act with avoiding becoming heartless manipulators; Fairest must engage in control-seeking behavior in order to stay mentally well, must be able to trust and rely on people close to them, structure their lives, and anticipate important changes or they end up on the fast way down. Other Lost often don’t understand this need or the Fairest curse to begin with, and so Fairest end up in unofficial support groups for one another, similar to those run by Darklings except no one will admit it’s a support group even at gunpoint. Woe fucking betide the friend or life partner who gets between a Fairest and her “book club”, “girls’ night”, “D&D campaign”, or other excuse for this vital community support.

Fairest Kiths are...bad. They’re bad. This is the part of the article where I’m supposed to talk about thematics and symbolism and metaphor, and I cannot do that here, because they are bad. Fairest has three viable Kiths that are actual Fairest Kiths, one that’s a Beast Kith who got lost and wound up here by fucking mistake, and a pile of garbage bigger than my self-esteem problems. I’m almost tempted to only talk about those four Kiths and save myself the time but I suppose I should show the work like I’ve done for all the other Seemings, so here we fuckin’ go I guess.

Flowering - This is it. This is the Fairest Kith. If you want to roll any other kind of Fairest you must first pass the trial of justifying why you’re not playing Flowering. In theory, Flowering draws its mythic heritage from nymphs and dryads, charming flower sprites, Knights of Flowers, and the like, but in practice Flowering’s only mechanical effect is 9-again on Persuasion, Socialize, and Subterfuge with no qualification or requirement, which doesn’t just make you better at everything Fairest is good at, it makes you better when you spend Glamour to flare it too. Want to represent a biobahn sith’s hypnotic dance? Flowering works. Want to create a vampiric Fairest with a sultry voice? Here comes Flowering. The siren at the bar who smells like sea air and gunpowder? Flowering. Everything is Flowering. Even the things that aren’t Flowering are Flowering because all Fairest Kiths have a social focus, which is Flowering’s undisputed arena of mastery.

Bright One - In theory, Bright Ones represent beings of light in the vein of Victorian fey (which...ugh...Victorians), but their Goblin Illumination is, how you say, useless, only becoming vaguely useful for a total of 2 Glamour as a passive defense that took you 2 turns to set up. Anything you want to represent here can be found in Flowering and with Elements or Communion (Light).

Dancer - You know how Flowering gives you bonuses on all social rolls? Would you like those same bonuses but on 1 less skill and only on rolls that “involve physical grace”? No? Run Flowering here and give your character a Dance specialty in one or more skills.

Draconic - One of the game’s premier melee options and a Beast Kith who took a wrong turn and ended up getting a free makeover intended for someone else. Draconic in theory represents Fairest as dragons, monster girls, demons, and in general at their most physical, but that idea sorta...falls down a bit? Draconic’s bonuses are all about Brawl and all the sample Draconics are swordsmen, which might suggest to the discerning reader that someone in the office wasn’t reading their own fucking game. Draconic Fairest don’t make bad melee boys if you invest in Lethal Mien, but honestly this is Dual Kith bait; slap it on your Hunterheart or your Razorhand and go apeshit.

Muse - Close but no cigar. In theory Muses are, well, muses; figures of inspiration, mentorship, teaching, creative fire. Their Kith Blessing is strong but requires access to mortals, which is complicated and roundabout on the best of days. If you have an idea that you think is Muse-shaped, use Playmate instead.

Flamesiren - Behold, we enter the realm of Okay(tm). Flamesirens are what Bright Ones wanted to be, and their hypnotic aura is actually a pretty neat tool; with cunning you can make it a one-sided penalty, and even if you don’t it’s an interesting method of de-escalating a social or combat situation by subjecting everyone to the tar pit that is your presence. If your concept involves light and color and you’re resistant to Flowering, Flamesiren will do more than nothing.

Polychromatic - Polychromatics don’t have a lot of roots in mythology; their modern inspirations are, well, Manic Pixie Dream Girls. But they get a shout-out here for being the only Fairest Kith who can muster up decent emotional defenses; not only can they magically boost their Composure rolls (and non-Composure rolls to resist magical and mundane emotional attacks for that matter), but others get a flat penalty to Empathy rolls against them, which makes them talented dissemblers. You’re still probably better off with Flowering - in a world of passive Kith Blessings, Polychromatic’s is extra passive - but I can see this Kith passing muster, and even being worth the two dots to Dual Kith in-house.

Shadowsoul - This one’s insane. Ostensibly Fairest Does Darkling, Shadowsouls get their Wyrd to Intimidate rolls which could be the whole Kith on its own and still be worth the slot, but in addition to that they get 9-again on Subterfuge (matching Flowering and Darklings there) and access to Contracts of Darkness, one of the most powerful in the game line, as an Affinity Contract. Is your Fairest spooky? Would you like them to be spooky? Here’s your one-stop shop.

Telluric - This is a Kith made of ribbon bonuses. In theory related to stars and celestial light, Telluric’s bonuses to rolls “with precise timing” isn’t...really worth considering. Run ‘em as Flamesiren and move on.

Treasured - In theory also able to muster emotional defenses, Treasured are Fairest who are literally made into works of art. They’re Okay(tm) but in their niche are beaten out by Polychromatic with a better effect for less resources.

Playmate - The last Real Fairest Kith(tm), Playmate appears in Night Horrors: Grim Fears where White Wolf tries to sell it as Peter Pan, but its powerful team-oriented bonuses mean that Playmates are useful anywhere Muse is wanted and more places besides. The front woman of an indie rock band could be a Playmate; so too could be an idealized baseball captain, the director at your local theater, the middle manager of a sinister conspiracy, or the night shift lead at a research lab. Do people do a thing in teams? Playmate does that thing.

And She Had Huge Titties, I Mean Massive Badondadonks, Absolutely Enormous Bazoggahoggas - Lost’s Canon Fairest

Remember when I said we had to get back to this after So You Want To Play An Ogre? Now we’re getting back to this. I’m not gonna re-state my caveats from that article and I’m not really gonna go back over the bit about So White Wolf Was Run By Fucking Nazis because, in all honesty, I do not have the fucking time to restate all of that in new words. Give thanks that OPP got out alive and let’s get right down to it.

Fairest have a very consistent characterization in canon that is only really challenged in Winter Masques; the narrative put forth in Lost is that Fairest, being attractive, have an uncomplicated power which privileges their lives. Which is a rather bloodless way to describe how White Wolf kept writing and publishing Fairest as heartless abusers and manipulators getting their jollies and emotional needs met by casually destroying their fellow survivors, manipulating them through sex appeal, outright lies, cattiness, cruelty, and betrayal. Much as simply queering Ogre does not help Ogre in and of itself, queering Fairest only takes you from incel and Nazi propaganda about women into...incel and Nazi propaganda about twinks, femmes, & in general anyone with the temerity to be found attractive by straight white people.

I’m not bitter, you’re bitter.

So what do you do at your table, with your Fairest concept? Lemme open up by saying that like, Fairest qua Fairest is perfectly solid, and if it wasn’t there wouldn’t be an article here; Fairest has a lot to say for itself about feminized violence, about your personhood being reduced to a product for the consumption of others, about emotional abuse & neglect, gaslighting, and sexual assault, but the conclusion White Wolf arrives at (”Fairest have unalloyed power over mortal and Lost society and they abuse that power”) is super fucking obtuse and betrays a serious lack of concern for what the Fairest undergo. It ignores the way a Fairest’s ordeals will force her to confront her relationship to her own gender and alter her willingness and ability to be consumed, disconnect her from her former society while also isolating her from her new one, and these questions are important for you if you’re looking to play a ‘classic’ Fairest.

But that leaves some hanging questions. Male Fairest face the almost inescapable fate of “failing” maleness on patriarchal terms; even the most strapping, broad-chested, athletic Adonis of a Fairest has become a man of layered words and reflexive empathy, whose Manly Stoicism(tm) is a cracking facade at best and entirely abandoned in a more typical circumstance. Men who become Fairest thus face a second journey after their escape from Arcadia; confronting what being men means to them and building their gender identity back up from the rubble it’s become. The temptation to accept success on society’s terms is always going to be present, and it’s always going to be offered like it’s possible, but it’s a losing game for these Fairest; they simply cannot be the men that other men demand they become.

Now, the discerning and loyal reader is surely about to ask, hey Vox, where’s the butch Fairest I was promised back in the Ogre article, to which I respond WE’RE GETTING THERE but I gotta use this as a bridge to talk about something that cuts across Fairest of all genders, be they cis or trans. Lost 1e makes a lot of hay out of the idea that Fairest “are rarely conventionally attractive”, and core even provides some interesting written concepts for that...which make it into exactly none of the art. Every published Fairest is conventionally attractive for various definitions of conventional, be it as a supermodel or a waif, but that leaves the question of Fairest who genuinely are not - and, tragically, Fairest who were not, and were then made into someone more easily consumed by their Durance. You know what I’m about to say, and I know you know I’m about to say it, but I’m gonna say it anyway: all bodies are beautiful, but Fairest know well that beauty and attraction aren’t the same, and neither are beauty and happiness. All Fairest, from the roundest bear to the most wide-eyed waif, are the products of Keepers who valued their bodies in that state, and that idea is going to haunt them day in and day out for the rest of their extended lives. There is no such thing as a Fairest with an uncomplicated relationship to their body, and that White Wolf seems to think that an uncomplicated relationship is their default state is...disgusting, frankly.

Which brings us, at long last, to butch Fairest (also bear Fairest but I’m gonna stick with the one set of terms or I’m going to go mad and this will never be published), who have a complicated journey ahead of them. On the one hand, the assertion of control and ownership over their own bodies, their own identities, cannot be overstated. On the other hand, elements of those bodies are going to be completely out of their control; a nascent butch Fairest may well hit the gym to get swole only to discover that she literally, physically cannot, that she has been Assigned Dex Build At Durance. Hauling your corpse out of Arcadia with an extremely feminine appearance shaped by your Keeper might complicate attempts to present in a more masculine manner or even just to appear androgynous, and those complications can be discouraging. For those that stick to it, this journey will take them two places; one is the bared-teeth, bloody-knuckled assertion that this life is theirs and you can have it if you can fucking take it, and the other is into the ranks of the Freehold’s retained warriors, usually in Summer or Autumn, though a vibrant representation of Spring knights will make it seem as if Spring has more butch Fairest than it actually does. These Fairest are aware, or will become aware, of how much of their job involves de-escalating or pre-empting violence; a focus on Physical stats or skills is not necessarily common, but hyper-specialization therein likely is. A butch Fairest is a lot more likely to have, say, Brawl 4 (Multiple Opponents) and no other Physical skills than she is to have Brawl, Weaponry, Athletics, and Stealth, in part or in whole because her first weapon of choice is going to be an Intimidate roll.

At every turn you’re able to, challenge White Wolf’s narrative about Fairest by asking yourself what your Fairest wants, why they’re this way, what they’re frightened of, and how the way they behave relates back to these. They’re not products; they’re people, just as hurt and Lost as the rest of their peers.

Princesses And Pastries - Fairest In The Courts

Fairest have a complex relationship to the society of their fellow Lost. On the one hand, they have the same need for community, support, companionship, understanding, honesty, and material aid as all Lost; a Fairest is not magically proof against being homeless, against starving, against the dangers of existing in the modern world without things like a photo ID or car insurance, and Freeholds provide all of these things. On the other hand, the thing most Fairest fear most, even if they can’t articulate that fear, is their own power - social influence, emotional trust and betrayal, status, political power, and authority. Fairest are all too aware that being good at this game does not make them immune to it - after all, that’s the lesson they learned at the hands of their Keepers.

What follows from this is a complex dance of interactions that each Fairest in some ways has to feel like she’s managing on her own, even if she’s not (and she rarely is; those support groups exist for a reason). If you give a Fairest a doughnut in a social setting, she will lick that doughnut even if she doesn’t intend to eat it right away, solely to hear someone else say something along the lines of “well it’s yours now”. As Fairest filter into Freehold society and take up social roles at all levels of power - officers, messengers, ‘ambassadors’ to mortal society, secretaries, pledge-smiths, teachers, monarchs - their responsibilities and rewards become their doughnut. That Fairest make a big deal out of both their job and the benefits that come with it is rarely, as other Lost sometimes think, about aggrandizement or reveling in power for its own sake; it’s about the sheer relief and assurance of hearing someone say, to the Fairest’s face, that this is her doughnut and no one is going to take it from her.

Younger Fairest tend to flit between two or three Courts; their initial selection may be based entirely on friendships, Vibes, or a gut-check decision based on an initial pitch by that Court, and Fairest can go quite far even in a Court that doesn’t quite actually fit their needs. Eventually, though, those Fairest who survive their youth will gravitate towards a Court whose ideals speak to them, even if its current social order isn’t living up to those ideals. If they’re going to be condemned to live as exiles in the world of their birth, the Fairest can at least be the person she wants to be, god damn it. Fairest aren’t any more or less vulnerable to a toxic Court environment than other Lost, but they’re good at detecting it beforehand. Unfortunately they’re also good at telling themselves they can change it.

Spring - Though early Spring joiners are of course rare in general, Fairest are among those Lost who more commonly choose Spring as a first Court. Spring’s highly social focus and chaotic internal organization is almost tailor-made for the skill set of your average Fairest, but therein too lies a sense of threat; for many Fairest, Spring can remind them of their Durance, and their joining of the Court is as much motivated by fear of a powerful cultural body as it is by any genuine Desire, maybe even more so. Many such Fairest end up caught in Spring’s middle-road trap, spinning their wheels without recovering or worsening more or less until they finally die, but when Autumn can sniff out the fearful ones it puts a lot of work into cooperating with Spring to get them out and where they can be helped.

Summer - More Fairest dabble with Summer for dreams of glory, or because they want to believe in Summer’s apolitical sales pitch, than ultimately stick with Summer. Those that do stay often serve as officers, as the Sun’s Tongue or the Arrayer of Distant Thunder, and as Court sorcerers. Fairest skilled in Contracts of Separation can make for surprising Jaegers, hounding their prey down more like a private investigator or a serial killer than a traditional hunter, but while striking this is fairly rare. Fairest who stick with Summer are those who are looking for its high ideals and are often among those rare Summer Courtiers who can competently articulate both those ideals and their pitfalls without falling prey to cynicism and bitterness.

Autumn - For those Fairest who hurt others to feel safe, Autumn is waiting. The Leaden Mirror can be attractive to young Fairest because it’s easy to perceive Autumn as atomized, defined by personal relationships rather than webs of political influence, but when the Fairest discovers those webs the existence of Option Two: Resort To Violence as an acceptable tool to the Ashen Court is perversely reassuring rather than threatening. The image of the Fairest as a witch, tempting and threatening, clings to them in Autumn but it’s honestly not their most common role; Autumn employs its Fairest as rumor-mongers, the Other Woman who seems a little too familiar with your husband, therapists & counselors, oneiromancers, and ambassadors to Hedge communities. The work Autumn does is harsh on Clarity, and Fairest are especially vulnerable to that harshness, but if the Court invests the time in helping its Fairest members, the self-awareness and self-confidence it offers can be a godsend that no other Court can give them.

Winter - As the Court which is actually selling what Fairest think Autumn has - to wit, the ability to simply say “no” to all social interactions with no justification required - Winter has a strong undercurrent of Fairest membership at all tiers of its power. Fairest often end up directly involved in Winter’s money-making enterprises, and flourish as Squires and Armigers with their fingers on the pulse of the Court’s morale. Winter’s hands-off approach displays a tremendous amount of trust in its Fairest from their perspective, and the demeanor of the Coldest Court - Winter’s indifferent equality - has a potent, merciless appeal. The trap of drowning in Sorrow sucks more than a few Fairest under, but if their peers can be there for them there’s always a way back out.

This Is Not A Pipe - Fairest And Lost’s Themes

My many thanks to Izzie M for her extensive help on this section. I’m not sure I’d have been able to grapple it down, emotionally or intellectually, otherwise.

Fairest go through some intense shit, and the shit they go through can never fully be addressed, never fully be recovered from. It’s no mistake that Fairest, like Wizened, are among those Lost likely to never fully gain resolution with or from their Keeper, and this is because they embody the dark truth that no matter how much progress you make, how much you heal, your trauma has changed who you are as a person and you will be dealing with it until you die. But, as alluded to extensively above in the discussion of Fairest and gender, Fairest also embody the way in which society will attempt to stamp you, mold you, turn you into a product to be consumed or an archetype to be placed into its churning machine, and its attempts to reshape who and what you are and can be are, in themselves, a form of trauma and abuse.

Fairest deal a lot in expectations. They’re expected to be perfect victims, they’re expected to be happy (because they’re beautiful and attractive, because they can front as Doing Okay, because they have a form of access to ‘normal’ society), they’re expected to want romance and sex (since everyone else wants those things out of them), to perform emotional labor, to be available, intimate, understanding, to keep up appearances. Fairest escape the chains of their Keeper only to be clapped in the chains that extend into the eyes and minds of their peers, and they cannot move without hearing the clink of them.

Fairest are primed to represent victims of ongoing emotional abuse and neglect; sex slaves and victims of child abuse might find themselves in Fairest, as might husbands or wives of abusive partners (and boy, re-living my bullshit there was a bonus prize I didn’t want to receive for writing this article), children pushed to over-achieve (here overlapping with Elemental) until they break, pastor’s daughters and cult kids (here overlapping with Beast), and others. However, Fairest also hit their thematic stride when talking about trauma from a society that will not give you an exit. A trans person is first punished by society for “failing” to perform their assigned gender, then made to perform their new one to expectations that they cannot set, do not control, and do not consent to; such a person might easily be Fairest, as might a man breaking under the expectations of Maleness, a college student losing their mind in finals week with no one to help, or even more ‘ordinary’ sex workers expected to perform emotional and physical labor for a society that rewards their work with violence and dehumanization.

Fairest are people with complex internal worlds and they damn well know it, but the temptations to let others define them are numerous; society promises all manner of rewards for being who and what it wants you to be, for wanting the things it tells you to want, for being the kind of person who wants and does those things. To be Fairest is to know at any time you can start faking it and receive those rewards insofar as they’re actually on the table, but it is also to know, every second of every day that you’re performing that role, that it is fake. If you can’t find a community with which you can be genuine...well. You can always get more hurt, and in this way Fairest also bring another theme of Lost into focus: that the Lost owe compassion and understanding to their fellow victims, because failure to care can only hurt both them and everyone in their blast zone.

Feet Pics For Legos - Coping As A Fairest

Fairest are among those Lost who are most concerned with their day-to-day social interactions and safety rather than their immediate, very physical environmental safety. They are perhaps the Seeming most likely to live in a group setting (in an apartment with roommates or romantic partners, in a house shared between multiple households, splitting the bills in a condo, with their parents), and are definitely the Seeming most comfortable with the idea of living with mortals who aren’t ensorcelled. Indeed, Fairest don’t tend to do well living alone; even a Fairest who wants or needs a private place to be, choosing to keep a home in which others cannot lay a claim, will likely crash at friends’ places, sleep over at the Freehold commons on some pretext or another, stay the night with a lover, or otherwise have a place to flop down while surrounded by other people. Having other people - their greatest reality check - around the place helps keep the Fairest centered in the real reality, better able to pick apart the mortal from the Wyrd from their own unrelated hallucinations, and a Fairest who is isolated - or who is permitted to isolate herself - quickly begins to dissociate and may soon be incapable of caring for herself until someone can get her back into the present.

Those invited over as guests to a Fairest’s home may note a lot of concern for those she lives with. She likely schedules the event well in advance, is clear about the boundaries of those she lives with (”That’s Brenda’s room, the door stays shut.”) and in general treats her communal home with a lot of respect and love. Respecting these boundaries and in turn having her own respected is very validating for the Fairest and is vital to be able to feel safe and at ease in her own home, and impressing their importance on guests further reinforces that this is, as it were, her doughnut. While not dismissive of their own literal physical safety per se, a Fairest’s anxieties rarely center around her body being violently attacked by strangers. For those that do have such anxieties, they may choose to solve that problem by simple expedient of rooming or living with someone large and scary.

Another detail of note which is touched on in Winter Masques is that Fairest tend to seek out life’s little pleasures. Though they are not necessarily wealthier than other Lost, how a Fairest chooses to spend her money tends to follow particular patterns. Rare is the Fairest who doesn’t have clothing they like, a phone that works, a wallet or purse that can actually hold all of their stuff, and in this regard most Fairest without a special interest in fashion as a hobby in and of itself will have an aesthetic that is self-expressive but serviceable and hard-wearing, but any place the Fairest haunts, frequents, or lives in will get little touches everywhere. Fairest spend the little bits of extra money for good toilet paper, soft soaps that won’t hurt the skin, good shower supplies, high-quality razors, boots that won’t wear through - and they spend their serious money on their hobbies and preferences. A Fairest with a passion for cooking scrimps and saves to get a fully-stocked kitchen; a Fairest who likes building and connecting invests in Legos or Hot Wheels and creates elaborate environments for them. A gamer Fairest has headphones that can vibrate your constipation away and a fiber optic connection to ensure that lag will not stand between her and your doom. The reasons for this are manifold, and Lost’s canon writing suggests that Fairest seek pleasure to alleviate a desire to return to Arcadia. This is, to put it mildly, a stupid assertion; rather, the Fairest provides her own pleasures in part because it is one of the most emotionally clear ways to lick the doughnut, and in part because it reminds her that she can be happy under her own power, can seek pleasure, stimulation, engagement, without placing herself at another’s mercy - ironically making it easier to go out every day and do exactly that as a member of her various societies.

As a Fairest settles in she tends to look for “her” people, and quite often they’re good at compartmentalizing this, wearing different hats and having different feelings about those hats without feeling fake or distressed about the bare fact of that. She’ll have her personal friends and family, like her housemates, her girlfriend, maybe her mortal family, her neighbors, and then folks like her Motley (which are like her personal friends and family, but In The Know), her fellow Fairest and the Freehold broadly, her work friends and fellow hobbyists. A Fairest who does, say, sex work, thinks of herself as a Sex Worker and understands herself in the context of that broader social group. It can be a lot! Many Lost barely have a handle on being a member of both the Freehold and a Court, and the way Fairest flit to and fro between many communities, slipping seamlessly from one role to another, can be exhausting to watch - but by doing so the Fairest also builds bonds between those communities, highlights their common needs and interests, draws them together over their similarities and strengths. Darklings and Wizened get a lot of the work on the ground done, but it’s often a Fairest in the role of whistleblower, figurehead, and champion all at once.

After all, this, too, is her doughnut.

Example Fairest - Clara Belltower, Spring Playmate

Clara Belltower is a mime.

Well, no, not exactly. Clara Belltower is a self-employed porn actress, erotic script writer, and director, whose primary thing is mimes, clowns, and more broadly circuses and performance venues. She came back from Arcadia eight years back fleeing life as her Keeper’s Stepford Wife, and ran face-first into the money issues that haunt the Lost in general. What started out as a practical choice in new career - and an attempt to find and express an identity not created for her by her abuser - became a creative passion that has stayed strong with Clara and propelled her to status in the Spring Court, which retains her keen eye for decoration, direction, and theatricality in service to its high rituals and revels. Clara’s livestreams and online presence are also a convenient avenue for the Freehold to launder its less legal revenue streams, which has endeared Spring’s “silent siren” to the Winter Court and cemented her as a mover and shaker.

Clara’s ambitions reach beyond erotic miming, as talented as she is at both creating and purveying such. She has her eyes on four different strip clubs in Freehold territory alone whose owners and operators need to fucking go, and she wants Winter’s help making it happen; further, she wants the Freehold to take over operation of those establishments for the benefit of the workers. Clara’s vision is popular in Spring and has its supporters in Summer too, but the Declining Seasons have been cool on the concept, citing a need to maintain subtlety and avoid entanglements with the mortal world that might invite the eye of, say, the IRS - or mire the Freehold in a protracted war with local police departments. Clara’s passion burns with a righteous simplicity, envisioning a Freehold that is active in improving the city around it - if the cops want to throw down, bring it on! Her influence over Winter means the Coldest Court cannot simply dismiss her desires, but neither is it willing to go to war. Something is going to have to give, soon.

This concludes the Fairest portion of the article. Some additional thoughts on Seeming follow.

Bombing Your Own Position - Choosing Your Seeming

So it’s been six articles and I’ve talked about the ways various Seemings can represent responses to the things which traumatize us; neurodivergences for which society abuses us, the machinery of capitalism, violence, prison, and more. But how do you go about choosing your character’s Seeming? The obvious choice is to make a character that puts a lot of yourself at the table; to seek out a Seeming that reflects your own traumas, your own issues, your own anxieties and struggles, and then grapple with them in this fictional context. But RPGs can be an emotionally challenging medium, and you may well not want to deal with your own bullshit during your magic trauma fairy game. That’s valid!

Now, the second obvious piece of advice is to think about your proposed character’s themes and traumas and then select a Seeming from there, but this can get complicated. Many Lost players feel as if they need two Seemings, and to those players I say: no the fuck you do not. But it is true that people are messy and do not fully resolve, that the broad spectrum of the world of sorrow and loss is not easy to fit into 6 discrete categories whose creation was often managed by, not to keep repeating this point, fucking Nazis. I have found in my experience that it can be helpful, when you’re torn between two Seemings or you have a character you’re sure is this Seeming even though they look like or could be that one, to ask yourself why the character is not the other option. Why is this alluring and sensual Darkling not a Fairest, what makes this brutal and violent Wizened not an Ogre? This question naturally leads to others about their abuse and their reaction to it, and can start your momentum for writing your concept out.

As an addition, while I’ve spoken of various Seemings as being well-equipped to represent specific traumas, they don’t own those traumas. Elementals are metaphorically autistic, but there’s nothing stopping you from running an autistic Fairest or an autistic Beast instead. Rather, those Seemings outlined as being “for” or “about” certain traumas are those whose selection will make those traumas thematically central, cause you to return to them as a topic over and over by virtue of being who and what they are. Real people have complicated problems which intersect with one another, spawning new problems that are more strange than the sum of their parts, and it’s both valid and interesting to write your Lost that way - just keep in mind that it’ll still be complicated at the table too.

Van Helsing Hate Crimes - Seeming Politics

White Wolf spent a lot of time waffling back and forth on whether or not Seemings represent distinct cultural and political identities in a given Freehold, drifting towards ‘yes’ when the writers thought about the way Blessings and Curses create consistent, measurable differences between Lost of various Seemings, and towards ‘no’ generally whenever they were asked to actually outline a Lost society such as a sample Freehold or Entitlement. Some Entitlements are locked to specific Seemings, often times with little thought as to why, while other times Seeming-based power blocs are alluded to as worldbuilding elements (such as in Lords of Summer) without much in the way of supporting detail. Why should these things happen, when, how, what does the buildup of this violent fracture in a Freehold society look like?

On the whole, I have taken the stance in these articles and in my own worldbuilding that some amount of fantastical prejudice exists amongst the Lost, but that the systems of oppression have not taken root. Maybe it’s idealistic of me to view the Lost as unwilling or unable to produce internally racist power structures that create an underclass for the benefit of an appointed elite, but in general I feel as if Freeholds are too small, each individual member too precious by simple dint of being a living being in a physical body, for this kind of evil to flourish. That said, you may have also noticed that I identified two Seemings - Darklings and Fairest - as explicitly self-uniting and in some senses self-governing on the basis of common traumas that they often cannot fully explain to outsiders, and indeed community with people that understand your bullshit without you having to say it aloud - that is, those who share a Seeming with you - can be invaluable to all Lost. Ultimately, however, I want to advise against looking at Seemings the way that, say, Vampire: the Requiem looks at Clans, and instead to treat them as reactions to trauma rather than a kind of alternate racial identity.

Next up: So You Need To Write A Fetch

#Changeling: The Lost #rpg #fairest #trauma #abuse #seemings #violence

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ellitx · 4 years ago

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Twig | Albedo x Reader

the final act of TWMA part 1 part 2

can be stand-alone

disclaimer: this is written before v1.2 so my interpretation of albedo’s story and lore is not accurate. these are just my assumptions and understanding that i based on each characters’ voicelines about him

word count: 3.4k

Something felt odd. What in the world happened…?

The male awoke from an unfamiliar scent that drifted through his nose. Likewise, he has woken up from a restless sleep due to the rough waves, to glimpse at the glowing and radiant sun peaking above the horizon out of the window. It extended its vivid light across the deep blue sky.

Its dazzling and inviting rays flowed through the window providing warmth to his body. Slowly the fatigue of the endless dreams was seeped out of him as the warm light trickled into replacing his unrest— it eased his body.

His mind meandered aimlessly into nothingness, continuously staring at the beige wall painted around the room.

He is aware when he is forgetting when there is something close yet hidden, yet he cannot at that moment fathom what it could be. It’s as if he was following a bread crumb trail and it ends, so he stopped.

It gives him ideas as to what is missing from his brain because if one always got stopped when traveling, you would know that there are blocks in your way preventing you from continuing any further— even if he has no clue to as what they are.

A peal of melodic laughter that is mirthful and playful then reached his ears, stopping him from his dreaming. Albedo turned his head to the source of the voice and saw a girl— that was around his age— chuckling as she held a tray in her hands.

“You’re finally awake.” She brought down the platter on the table next to him and poured a cup of tea. His visage frowned and tightly gripped the blanket that was tucked to him.

Why did he felt that she was mocking him? He doesn’t know why but for some reason it did irk him. He forgot about his memories. He doesn’t have the slightest clue as to where he was and why he was here.

“Here.” She gave him the cup and patiently waited for him to take it. So this is where the foreign scent was coming from. He thought to himself.

The smell was fragrant but had a tinge of spiciness in it. It made his nose crinkled but accepted it nonetheless— quite hesitant, as the girl observed. Taking a small sip of the tea, it surprised him that it tasted sweet. It was quite unexpected because of the tangy fragrance it gave off.

“You look so lost.”

The laugh came from her like a newly sprung leak— sheepish at first, stopping and starting. She wasn’t done yet though, he could tell from the way she turned her head and half-bit her lip. From deep inside her chest came a great shaking motion and her muscle face grew tight.

His eyebrows arched as he put down the cup on the tray, waiting. In moments this female’s laugh was more like a burst water main arching into the brilliant summer sky, soaking everyone around her with unrestrained gales that deliberated her to nonstop giggles and picked face picture of glee.

Albedo wanted to stay straight-faced and walk out the room— she was, after all, laughing “at him”, not “with him”. But before he could stop himself, his poker mouth twitched upwards, and was smiling despite himself.

Nevertheless, he didn’t hate it.

—

On the next day, she was already bombarding him with questions.

“Hey, hey, what was that thing you just did? That was my sister’s research she’s been working hard for and you’ve already solved it?!” [Eye color] optics sparkled in awe and admiration as [Name] gazed at him from her side.

He peered into her eyes and nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, continuing to read the texts of the book she gave him. “It was a minor mistake she had done. I’ve read some pieces of information about that topic and was not expecting I would stumble upon it.”

She puckered her lips and pouted as she snatched the codex from his hands. His answer was so vague! It didn’t really satisfy her curiosity about this outlander. “Hey!”

The female raised her arms, preventing him from reaching it. “I won’t give this back to you until you tell me the whole story!” Albedo’s brows folded in confusion and struggled to grab it. “That is the whole story.”

Her cheeks puffed and watched him yanked the book from her. It was disappointing, to say the least how he easily took it.

Sighing countless times already made him question himself why this girl still insists on staying by his side. It’s not like he didn’t like it nor does he like it, it just raised him so many questions about what happened yesterday.

Why would the Knights took him in considering how [Name] just effortlessly helped him out of nowhere. Not to mention how he barely knows a single thing about Mondstadt. It made him indignant how he can’t remember even the slightest thing.

He doesn’t blame anyone for it. It’s no one’s fault that he lost his memories.

Just thinking about this bizarre occurrence that just magically appeared out of nowhere made his head ached. Though the tug on his arm caught his attention and looked at the young teen in puzzlement as they started to march off to archon knows where.

“Maybe I should tell Grandmaster Varka about this…” She softly muttered to herself. He caught her words perfectly and so further press a question to pique his interest. “Tell about what?”

Both of them slowed down and paused in their tracks, stopping midway near the fountain area. [Name] chuckled and winked at him playfully.

“You’ll see.”

Albedo hummed and looked fixedly on the back of her head as they continued to walk silently.

There was a delicious moment where his face washed blank with confusion, like his brain cogs couldn’t turn fast enough to take in the information from his wide eyes. It made [Name] stifle a laugh at the expression he was currently showing to all the members of Ordo Favonius.

Every muscle of the male’s body just froze before he looked away from them to the girl who stood beside him. A grin crept up onto her face, it soon stretched out from one side to the other showing every single tooth.

Surprise isn’t an emotion he’d ever taken well. He could tell himself he was at loss for words. He guessed he found himself dumb, in a sense that made his lexeme stopped flowing. Stopped because she has shown him a new direction he never anticipated for a moment.

Every member knows she had saved him— saved him from what though? That he did not know, he never asked her about it nor did she even tell him what happened to him. He just let it be.

Receiving the news that he’ll be a member of the Knights, to have the position as the Chief Alchemist, really made him bewildered and surprised.

“Isn’t this happening too fast?” He questioned whilst quirking a brow.

“Hm? What do you mean?” [Name] tipped her head as her eyes stared at his own turquoise ones.

“Why is everyone easily agreeing to it? I’ve only been here for a day and just assisted your sister in translating. I appreciate the thought that the Grandmaster here is giving me the position of Chief Alchemist but I can't help but question why.”

She glanced at him, her mouth pursed but slightly open and loose. Her eyes are fixed as if she’s looking at something a yard behind his head. He called her name to garner her attention.

She blinks, refocused. “Albedo, it’s actually been five days. Lisa talked to everyone about how genius you are.”

Now it was his turn to owlishly blink. Five days? Does time really move that fast?

Well, he did hear the saying that time flies fast when you’re having fun. He never noticed about it and now that the idea battered him, it continued to linger inside his head.

What happened yesterday, what happened today, everything still feels the same. Even if the fragment of memories within him seemed to etiolate. His hands clawed his chest, feeling the unusual warmth from it and throughout his body.

Everything has been important to him and will be important to him.

He knows that these distant memories seem so far and vague but are significant to him.

He doesn’t understand the reason why, but he shouldn’t forget.

At least that’s how he thinks things should be.

—

The sound of the ticking grandfather clock echoed throughout the silent room. It sounded so monotonous and lifeless inside. The tall and antiquated object stood there as the gateway for old-man time, the golden pendulum making its steady way back and forth.

The silence was so eerie, though none minded at all as two teenagers were fast asleep, still remaining inside their dreams.

An aroma Albedo has gotten used to woke him up. It’s the smell of the herbs and various flowers that have mixed together giving off a sweet and minty scent. He opened his eyes and stayed like that for a few minutes.

The alchemist tiredly glanced down to see the papers are now messed and scattered all over the table. Heaving a sigh as he raked his fingers through his hair, his aqua optics went on to the female’s sleeping body that rested on his lab’s bed.

She still hasn't woken up.

He stood up from his seat and quietly approached her unconscious form to check on her condition. [Name]’s features were much softer in sleep, the lines that usually creased her brow replaced by youthful appearance giving off a child-like look.

She looked peaceful, he thought to himself.

He pulled up the blanket over her shoulders and turned around to continue making remedies for her once she’s awake.

The Knights of Favonius were worried sick about her, especially her sister, Lisa. They were hoping and praying to the Seven she’ll wake up from her coma. They all miss her presence, days of not seeing her wandering around also worried the townsfolk of Mond.

She has been cooped up inside his room while Sucrose and Noelle assisted him in taking care of her.

The morning dusk is about to arrive and Albedo has to continue doing his research nonstop. He does so wished to see her [eye color] orbs finally open after the incident. It hurt him to know [Name] has been like this that he did not even realize until the Acting Grandmaster and her sister told him about it.

He stared at the small plant that was placed on the windowsill. Its leaves started to fall off from its branches as it slowly started to wilt in the darkness. He grabbed the small twig and observed the faintest of light it gives off.

Would it hurt to say that it reminded him of her?

[Name] is someone that has to be taken care of carefully. After all, when she saw what he had written about her condition, she didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to say that her “friend” was just a fragment of her imagination without affecting her mental state.

He hovered his hand over the small branch, watching it bloom before his eyes with ease. He placed it back in the vase and returned to the table. If only he could easily return her back just like how he did with the plant.

Return her from his arms again instead of that bard.

He let out a bitter laugh at that thought. This was his fault. Why would she come back running to him if he did not even once give her his time? When they’ve finally met again for so long, she was avoiding his eyes.

It hurt him, he won’t lie about that. Her welcome to him was just a simple nod and that’s it. No hugs, no welcomes, not even a small smile was given to him.

If he did stop his research and at least spend time with her, will everything change?

Albedo shook his head as the answer to himself. Even if it is, why would he still continue hoping and thinking about these things? Sometimes his formulation of the rationale of real-life situations irked him.

This isn’t alchemy, genius.

His self-feud stopped when he saw her fingers moved the slightest from his peripheral vision. His heart fluttered and gave him a bit of hope if the archons had finally heard their wishes.

When her eyelids flickered open, the sight was not what he was expecting.

A lone tear trickled down her cheek. Her lips quivered and continued to look at the distance. Out of complete silence, her soft cries arose. He’d never seen [Name] sat like that, so deflated. Her loose shoulders shook, her hands hanging low, making no attempt to conceal or even wipe her own tears.

All of these emotions coming to him at once hurt him.

His head throbbed and let the feeling of guilt crush him.

—

The giggle rolled around the room like a child’s spinning top, vibrant and heartwarming as it moved around the people in its chaotic ways. It came in its fits and bursts— loud to soft to nothing at all and back to loud again.

It was as if there was an invisible feather at [Name]’s nape brushing softly; she squirmed and raised her shoulders to block Barbara from tickling her neck. The laughter built up inside her like so much water behind a dam, making her shoulders and her belly hurt.

She cried when Klee jumped onto her body and joined in with the deaconess. Their carefree and playful tittering reached Albedo’s ears when he entered the room. Their eyes darted towards him as their laughs died down.

The Spark Knight ran towards him and hugged his legs, overjoyed in seeing the alchemist here. He knelt down to her height and patted her head as a smile slowly crept up to his face.

[Name]’s laugh caught his attention again, though he did not dare to look at the two females. As much as he tried to focus on listening to Klee’s words, he cannot help but listen to the former’s gentle hilarity.

For some reason, it made his chest wrenched every time he listens to it. He wondered why that is when it’s something he remembers all the time.

He recalled the day he got his Vision. It appeared out of thin air on his desk and she was the first one to point it out. It surprised [Name] why he had gotten Geo instead of Dendro. She watched him fiddle the trinket in his hands as he continued to analyze it.

He didn’t really mind whichever Vision he got. As long as he can continue doing his research then it’s fine with him.

He didn’t know why he found himself laughing so hard, but all of a sudden, he couldn’t stop. His breath came in quick gasps between his unstoppable tittering. Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill over.

She was confused about why he was laughing all of a sudden worrying her. He waved his hand dismissively and pointed out the expression that was currently painted on her face. Her face reddened and slapped his back jokingly.

After their short playful bickering, the Chief Alchemist plucked a small branch from a plant and hand it over to her.

“Visions are gifts given to us by the Gods. Think of it like this sprig, there are many possibilities which among the elements they’ll receive yet no one knows what they’ll end up with until they’ve received it.”

She furrowed her brows as her brain cogs continue to process what he meant. It finally dawned on her what he meant and hummed. “But not everyone can receive Visions, though.” She remarked.

“Exactly. They may not bear fruits or maybe yet, one day it’ll come to them.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what is it?”

[Name] sighed and rested her chin on her palm. “Not everyone is blessed by the Seven.” The male was still and quiet.

“Well, I’m no god. I may not know how they give out Visions but it sure is something remarkable, isn’t it?” Her eyes lightened up and nodded vigorously.

“Right?! Wouldn’t it be better if they just give it to everyone?” Albedo laughed and admired her own exclamation.

“Perhaps.”

It surprised the female teen that he just suddenly grabbed her hand unnoticed. He observed how small her hands are compared to his. He placed the twig on her palm and with a simple motion of his wrist, the branches started to grow as small leaves then sprouted from it.

It occurred to her just how amazing Albedo is. She raised the small branch in the air and examine the faintest glow of the leaves it emitted. She gasped and stared with wide eyes as isotoma flowers started to bloom from the ends.

“W-was that suppose to happen?” She turned her head to him and pushed her arms forward to show the herb to him.

He bobbed his head and took out a pot filled with soil. He used his elemental skill on it and a cecilia shaped flower appeared. Instead of the usual vibrant white, it almost looked too rigid and rocky.

[Name] poked it and it really was sturdy. He asked her if she can use her own elemental skill, to which she responded with a yes. She twirled her hand and he can feel the air starting to get cold.

Small snowflakes started to form and dropped down on the pot. Once the snow made contact with the rocky flower, it formed into a crystal and bloomed into a refreshing and spirited cecilia.

It felt like a real flower instead of the stony one they just saw. The alchemist plucked it and carefully tucked it to her ear, adoring how well it donned her appearance and perfectly captured her delicacy.

Cecilias really does suit her.

That day, the day he only showed it to her. It’s the memoir he cherished the most. It’s the only special memory he couldn’t forget.

He understood why. He keeps thinking of her.

All these mnemonics with [Name] are important to him and are everything to him.

And on that day, he believed she wouldn’t leave.

—

A smell of a nostalgic sweet breeze wafted in him. The winds kissed his skin making him wish to go back to sleep, yet the sound of familiar laughter was what made him want to open his eyes.

He recognized those sweet mirths. It’s so close to him that he can feel the figure’s shakiness. The tree’s shadow helped him not to be blinded by the rays of the sun and the gales that caressed his skin were so calming, but his focus was purely glued to a smile.

Her smile.

He still waited for the day when he can show the small beauties of life to someone, but there are no fools like him in this vast world. Perhaps they exist, yet they must be distant, enjoying the same sky with other eyes yet the same thought.

The whistling of the birds that awaken their sleep in the trees, letting his perception be painted with white, yellow, and blue. It battered him that he was currently laying on her lap.

So shall it stay put, a smile eternally stained upon her lips. Her joy, her love, her laughter, her cheer. All will reach the ears of those who have forgotten the warmth of such harmonies.

Emotions came to his mind like the waves meeting the land. They come to him, soaking his entire being and helped him to understand his entire self better. He felt wet hot tears filled up his eyes.

But this was no tears of grief.

It was tears of joy that he has finally heard her laugh once again. Much closer than before. The distance with them has now shortened. Is this the archons saying they’ll give him another chance?

If it is, he’s very thankful to the Celestia and to the Seven. He was so happy that all he can do is cry and let the tears continuously fall down his cheeks. The tears stained his face but he didn’t care if it did.

Albedo was just so ecstatic he finally got to reunite with her. He can finally hold her in his arms and apologize for the mistake he has done to her. He missed her so much that he can’t bear the pain anymore of how distant they are.

And so he promised himself he won’t ever forget her.

this oneshot is based on this song

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lin-nin · 4 years ago

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Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 4

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot: You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer: Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer: Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

-- Chapter 4: Library Discussions

< | Previous Chapter

The library offered a quiet solace to you that was hard to find elsewhere. Hardly anyone else ever occupied it, and you were eager to find peace. So much had happened in such a short time, you wanted to just forget it. You considered burying yourself into a book but instead to just drape yourself across a chair. You hung your legs over one of the arms of the plush chair, neck craned over the other. Your fingers skimmed along the floor, eyes boring into the ceiling.

Why was everything so complicated? Who were your parents even expecting you to marry? You figured you would meet him in a few days. Assuming he was alive, of course. Had he met an accident and died, and Techno had become crown prince? Why were your parents so upset about Techno being your fiancé anyways? Surely his reputation wasn't that bad. Perhaps they were overreacting. You had doubts Techno would agree to a marriage only to rid of you.

Questions bounced around your head endlessly, ricocheting off one another. You had very few answers, no bread crumbs to follow for answers. There was no way to figure anything out about Techno without asking him directly. Which would be awkward, since you seemed unable to properly talk to him without stammering over your words. What a fool you tended to make of yourself.

The soft thump of boots on tile jarred you from your musings, eyes opening to seek out the source. When had you even closed them? You scanned the library, lifting your head up to look at the door way. Techno stood there, the faintest quirk to his lips as brown eyes bored into your frame. Right. You were a princess, draped sloppily over a chair. You scrambled to right yourself, dress fluttering around as you did. You flattened the fabric around your legs, pretending that it had not happened.

From across the room, you could hear that same small exhale leave Techno as it had earlier. He really was laughing at you. Embarrassed heat crawled up your neck again, and you looked away for a moment to compose yourself. "Techno, I didn't expect you to come here. Not that you can't, of course! Just no one does." You threw your hands up in front of you as you tripped over your words, cursing a little in your head. Damn it. Every time.

You were relieved that his amusement at your fumbling wasn't loud. You probably would have wanted to crawl in a hole if it had been. Instead he simply walked towards one of the shelves, angling his head to examine the spines on the books. "I needed something to do. My father is busy with matters I really don't care to be involved with." That was probably the most he had said to you in one go, and you kinda wanted to gape. You just nodded,before remembering he couldn't see you.

"Me too. That's why I'm here. Lots to think about," You said, gaze never leaving Techno. You watched the loose ponytail sway against his back as his head turned to look at you instead. You met his gaze as best you could, as if holding your ground for whatever reason. He simply grunted, turning back to the books. Exciting. Another conversation dead like it was nothing. That would be happening a lot, wouldn't it?

Your eyes tracked his movements, watching as he took a book off the shelf, flipping it over and extending it out in front of him, rather far, to see it past the school. It was certainly a sight to see. You struggled to suppress a laugh, it coming out in the form of a breathy giggle instead. You couldn’t help it. All this effort for intimidation with a silly skull, just to look like a dork when trying to actually look at something.

"Pfft- wouldn't it be easier to just… not wear that thing? It surely causes more problems than its worth?" You questioned without much thought. You blanched a little when he turned to you again, his hand raising to touch the tusks of the mask.

"I like it. It looks cool," He stated simply. Cool?

"It looks scary until you try to do anything. Why not take it off?" You pressed again. You sat back more comfortably in your chair, watching him curiously. You could hear him huff softly from across the room. He didn’t answer for a long time, and you were positive he was going to just ignore you. You wouldn’t entirely be surprised.

“I don’t like taking it off around people outside of my castle.” You supposed it made fair enough sense. Kind of.

“Does it have to do with your scary reputation, or whatever it is?” You pressed on your questioning. You might as well while you were being given the chance. He carried on his way of perusing the books, grabbing a few and holding onto them.

“Yeah, something like that,” He murmured. You did consider asking him more about the mask, but didn’t want to push it. Something told you that it would be pointless. It was a subject to be pushed another day. Which you were alright with, in truth. You were going to have plenty of time with him to figure things out. The library lapsed into silence, though it wasn’t as unbearable as previous ones. He just continued on his way of choosing books, and you could only think about everything. Your future was very obscured, honestly. You didn’t know what to expect from it.

Your head leaned back as you thought about it all. What was his kingdom like? His family? Would it be warm and welcoming? Or would it be cold? You hoped it was warm, you wouldn’t last in a cold environment. You sighed softly, staring at the ceiling. That was the worst part of this all. The unknown factor of your future.

Books hit the table across from you, causing you to jerk your head up. Techno slid into one of the nearby chairs, lounging into it. You blinked a little in surprise, having expected him to leave the library the moment he had picked out his books. You paused, thinking on if you should start up another conversation. Surely he couldn’t read with that mask on. Not conventionally, at least.

After a few heartbeats, you decided it definitely wouldn’t hurt. “What’s your home like?” You murmured, trying to stamp down the apprehension you felt. Surely it was natural, but it was kind of embarrassing all the same. You toyed with the fabric of your dress, awaiting his answer. It was so hard to read his face, to tell what he was thinking.

“Nice. Mostly quiet, if you ignore my brothers. It’s not too bad there, not too different from here. You’ll probably like it,” He murmured, eyeing the books on the table. You had a feeling he wouldn’t be reading them until he went back to his room.

“Your brothers? What are they like?”

“I have 2, Wilbur and Tommy. There’s also Tubbo, he’s best friends with Tommy so he’s like a brother as well. Wilbur isn’t too loud on his own, he’s nice. Tommy is… loud, and crude. Obnoxious at times,” He sighed, head shaking slightly. “Tubbo is kind. Tommy makes all of them very loud, though. It can be unbearable.” You let a small laugh escape your lips. You supposed that it would be entertaining. If you could deal with them, at least.

“Sounds… Interesting,” You fished around for the right word to describe it, offering up a small smile. He glanced to the side, rubbing at his neck as silence lapsed over the two of you again. This happened a lot, didn’t it? Hopefully it got better with time.

Next Chapter | >

#dream #dreamwastaken #dream smp #dream team #dream x reader #technoblade #technoblade x reader #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois family #kingdom au #reader insert #t&t

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years ago

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Pining John Pt. 2

Please if you have any pining!John fics (like Sherlock accidentally hurts him like he did molly with the Christmas gift) I would absolutely love that!! Thank you so much😊(submitted by @thediamondwoman)

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: hi! New Johnlocker here, this is a fic rec ask, but do you have any fics where John is pining/suppressing/ignoring his feelings for Sherlock? Preferably after TRF, and without Mary in the way, and a slow burn one (sorry for all the preferences just one with pining John would be fine) and thank you for being a blog currently reading all your metas and they are amazing <3333

@i-love-books-and-so-do-you asked: hullo!! *waves* i’m in the mood for some pining john, so i was wondering if you have any good ones? preferably with a happy ending

and may i just say your blog is GORGEOUS like all your fic recs *chef’s kiss* thank you for the literal best johnlock content <33

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Hi Lovelies!!!

First of all, thank you for your love for my lists! LOL! These asks just keep coming in, so it looks like I’m overdue for another pining John list!!

That said I do actually have pining John fics, and enough to start a second list! As I re-read fics, I’m able to keep adding all the old ones I didn’t tag ages ago to lists, so that’s fun, hahah. Hope you guys don’t mind me just combining all the pining into one list, hahaah. I get more fics that way LOL!

Enjoy, and feel free to add your own, friends!