#telling myself I’m going to write books or something but I never actually sit down and do it but still… it’s nice

[floral-hex]

It’s almost 6 in the morning. Can’t sleep. Admittedly lonely. So I’ll type a little text post to feel like I’m actually “doing” something.

Doubled my vilazadone. Started buspirone. I’ve been on a diuretic for my ears (it’s complicated) for about a week now, but whether it’s coincidental or not, my hearing has been pretty great since I started. But hearing comes and goes, so we’ll see if this holds in the coming weeks. My body is having trouble adjusting to all of these new meds, but I think it’s starting to rebalance itself. Chemicals, man…

Okay, I really don’t know what else to say here. Just bored on a Saturday night… well, now Sunday morning. Might go eat some captain crunch. I just started the buspirone and I think it’s maybe making me.. eeeeee 😬😬😬😬… you get it? Not anxious, just on edge. They said take before bed to get used to it, but maybe they meant “hey, take as you’re falling asleep, because if you’re awake when it kicks in, you will stay awake.” Or maybe it’s just normal loneliness and anxiety keeping me up. Who knows. This seems like a downer post, yeah? Sorry. It’ll be positive, ya. I’ll go make some cereal, watch some tv, you all can do whatever you’re doing this morning. There are some birds chirping outside, I’ll see if my cats are awake, it’ll be nice.

[moonstruckme]

hi lovely!! if you're comfortable writing something like this, could I maybe request poly!marauders where reader who is normally very independent but gets submissive at times, but not in a sexual way? like she just gets overwhelmed and wants the boys to be in charge for a while, but maybe the relationship is still new and she feels too needy and can't bring herself to tell them and eventually they realize?

again, no worries if you're not comfortable writing this, just thought I'd ask <3

Thank you for requesting gorgeous !

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“This is deeply, atrociously unjust,” Sirius says as James sits down in front of you, him on the floor and you on the couch. He’s wet and fresh-smelling from the shower. “You never let me do your hair.” 

“Because you always act like you’re trying to tear it out as some sort of twisted revenge plot,” says James, passing you a brush and the curl cream you and Sirius had found for him. Normally, you adore this routine, the chance to run your fingers through James’ hair and the way his eyes close blissfully while you do it. You love to pamper him. But tonight you’re not really in the mood. You do it because he expects you to, coating his curls in product with your usual tenderness but wishing you were on the receiving end of it instead. “She’s got the touch of an angel.” 

Sirius crosses his arms. He’s leaned against the side of the couch, leering over you like a vulture. Remus is reading in the armchair, and though he’s pretending to ignore all of you, the corner of his mouth tilts up. 

“Beauty is pain,” Sirius grouses.

“We should start a hair train,” James decides. “She’ll do mine, you can do hers, Remus will do yours, and I’ll do his.” 

Sirius seems to be considering this. You lean down towards James’ ear. “You’re throwing me to the wolves,” you stage-whisper. 

“It’s you or me, sweetheart.” 

Actually, the idea of Sirius playing with your hair—even at the risk of losing a good amount of it—doesn’t sound so awful. 

“I can get in the shower right now,” you offer, only half joking. 

Sirius lets a grin slip loose, sitting next to you to plant a smacker on your cheek. “Thank you, darling, but that’s alright. You shouldn’t have to atone for his mistakes.” 

You return his smile, doing your best to bury your disappointment.

“I didn’t consent to the hair train either,” Remus says without looking up from his book. “There’s a reason James doesn’t do his own hair.” 

“Oi,” James objects. “I’ve got admirers fighting over the opportunity to do my hair, why would I do it myself?” 

Remus marks his page, flipping the book closed. “What are we having for dinner?” he asks. 

“I don’t know, but I’m famished.” James doesn’t miss a beat, latching onto the new topic eagerly. “We could order takeaway?” 

“Or just cut out the middleman and go out,” Sirius says. “Unless someone feels like cooking? Which I don’t.” 

“We know,” Remus teases. “I don’t either, not tonight.” 

“I could if I needed to,” James says, “but I’m alright with whatever gets food in me the fastest.” 

They all look to you. “I don’t much feel like cooking,” you add your piece. Your voice comes out quieter than you’d intended.

“Alright,” Remus says. “Then let’s not cook tonight. What do you want to do, love? Go out or stay in?” 

You comb the brush slowly through James’ hair, twisting to define his curls. “I don’t know,” you say. 

Sirius turns to you, frowning. “Come on, baby.” He bumps your shoulder lightly with his. “What do you feel like having?” 

“I don’t know.” You try not to sigh. “Um, can you pick?”

You don’t look up from the top of James’ head, but you can feel them exchanging looks. They’ve all been a little extra gentle with you lately. They know you’re dealing with a lot. Anytime you try to tally it all up and make sense of it in your head, you start feeling like you could cry. Your exhaustion has sunk so deeply within you that it’s seeped into your bloodstream. You think by now there’s got to be traces of it in the marrow of your bones. 

“Hey,” Sirius says softly. “Look at me.” 

You do, pausing with the brush held aloft over James’ head. He’s got his eyebrows drawn together like he’s trying to figure you out. “I’m sorry,” you say. It’s not your boyfriends’ faults that you’re feeling overwhelmed; you don’t mean to drag them down with you. 

“What for, sweetness?” He sets a hand on your thigh, rings biting into your skin as he gives the flesh a loving squeeze. “Just tell us what you need.” 

You try to give him a smile. You really do love him. “I want…I don’t know, I guess I’m just tired. I want to not think for a little while.” 

Sirius’ eyebrows come up a bit in the middle, and James turns around from below you. 

“Aw, sweetheart.” His tone is as gooey and sweet as raw honey. “Do you just want us to take care of you, angel?” He sets his hands on your knees, pushing himself up to kiss your chin. “You should’ve said something.” 

“We can stay in,” Remus suggests whilst James worms his way underneath you, getting you in his lap. “Order takeaway from that Thai place you like.” 

“That sounds nice,” you say meekly, face growing warm. James presses rapid-fire kisses to your cheek. One-two-three. 

“You wanna have a shower, baby?” Sirius asks you. He looks heart-wrenchingly concerned. It’s not like you to want to give away control like this. “I could do your hair when you get out.” 

“Don’t do it,” James cautions you. “He steals our hair to make tiny dolls of us, I’m sure of it.” 

Sirius sends him a withering look. “I’ll be gentle.” 

“I’d like that,” you tell Sirius, and he softens. 

“Yeah?” He brushes a piece of hair away from your face and presses his hand to your cheek. Squishy fond. “Okay, baby, we’ll pamper you to hell and back.” 

“I’m going to find the menu for takeaway,” Remus says, prying himself up from his chair. 

“James,” Sirius says, not particularly kindly, “you will have to let her go for her to shower.” 

“Never. Not on my life. Not at gunpoint.” You shrink as James makes his face at home in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, nose nudging at a ticklish spot. “She’s my darling sweetheart angel.” 

“She’s our darling sweetheart angel,” Remus corrects him from the kitchen. You think your face could melt titanium. 

“James, please,” you complain. “I’m never telling you all anything again.”

“Careful.” Sirius raises an eyebrow at you, mock stern. “That sounded dangerously close to a thought, and those won’t be allowed until at least tomorrow morning.”

[pheonixgrave]

Softer Now (18+)

Ahh! You guys seem to be really enjoying these. I realized I was just writing the same Tav so there's that

Warnings: Soft smut, definite voyeurism, a decent amount of blood drinking, Soft!Astarion, pre-Act III, post-Act II

“Aren’t you just a little jealous?” Karlach asked, joining Astarion near the stash of wine they found.

“Why would I be jealous of the walking encyclopedia?” He smirked, watching a certain elf interact with a certain wizard.

“Oh c’mon! He’s flirting with her and you two are a thing, right?”

“I find it rather charming, actually,” he took a swig of the awful wine in his hand.

The Tiefling looked from the vampire spawn to the pair looking over some old tome whose name no one else could pronounce. “Charming?”

“Let me tell you what I see,” he set the bottle down to face the barbarian. “To you and I, Gale is obviously flirting. In a very clumsy manner, but flirting all the same. Our fearless leader, however, has no idea. To her, he is as much of a friend as Wyll or Shadowheart. Yet, he keeps trying because he has no clue that she simply isn’t flirting back.”

“That doesn’t make you angry?”

“Of course not!” He laughed, “I can barely believe he managed to bed a goddess with how he flirts.”

“It does seem pretty out there, as far as stories go,” Karlach crossed her arms and continued to watch the pair. 

“Anyways, I know there’s no competition.”

She smirked, “You do sound a teensy bit jealous.”

“My dear, I do not get jealous.” The more he thought about it, the more pause it gave him. Their resident wizard does try to hold her attention more often than he should. But Tav’s time was her own. He knew he had nothing to worry about. After everything they’ve been through, he couldn’t imagine her changing her mind at the last moment. Right?

Tav, on the other hand, was enjoying pouring over the old tome they had found. It gave some interesting insight into Illithids and their reasonings. Unfortunately, she was unable to read the language it was written in. She was thankful for Gale in that sense. Who knew he spoke Deep Speech? Granted it was written in Espruar but the script itself was odd. The wizard had helped her decipher a few pages about psionic energy and how they have mastered it. It truly was fascinating. 

“This is nice,” Gale spoke from next to her. He was holding the dusty tome in his hands with the bard sitting near him, using her mage hand to scribble any notes she’s taken. 

She looked up at him with wide eyes, “I suppose it is! I’m very happy we found this book.”

“It truly is remarkable,” he swallowed, “It’s also a nice excuse to spend more time together in the midst of all this madness.” 

“Oh! I suppose it is nice to sit with everyone.” She didn’t fail to notice him scoot slightly closer. Just a hair between them now.

Gale closed the book and turned to look at the elf next to him. “I’m afraid I must ask you something.”

Something in Tav’s mind warned her to walk away. But she was still getting used to that voice, so she elected not to listen to it. This was Gale. This was her friend. “What’s on your mind?”

He grabbed her hands in his, “I have noticed you and Astarion getting rather close recently.”

Tav wasn’t sure how to react. She was already flustered by the sudden turn of the conversation. She was more than happy to keep speaking of the Illithid empire. “Where are you going with this, Gale?”

Gale’s eyes never left hers. It was like he was trying far too hard to bear into her soul and she simply…didn’t want him to. “I told myself it was casual, not a matter of the heart but…clearly I was wrong and it looks like I am the last to know. I know how close you two have gotten, I just thought you would show me the respect of telling me first.”

The Elf’s jaw dropped, “Tell you? Tell you what?”

“But you can tell me now. Who is it to be? Me or him?” The look in Gale’s eyes was nearly as serious as when he was told he’d have to become a bomb.

“What exactly am I choosing here?” Tav blinked, glancing down at the wizard’s hands that completely enveloped hers. It took her a moment before her brain caught up. “Oh! Oh, Gale! I had no idea you felt this strongly.”

A glimmer of a smile reached his face, “Well, perhaps I should have done more. Been more charming, more flattering, harder to reach…but I was only myself. Sometimes that just isn’t enough.” His face dropped looking at hers, “Whatever your decision is, I will respect it. But you must choose. You cannot have us both.”

Tav made a choked sound in the back of her throat before clearing it. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I think it’s for the best that we aren’t involved like that. I want to be with Astarion.”

“I see. I suppose he does have a certain charm about him, if you’re into that sort of thing.” He sighed, “I’ll just put my feelings to one side. I think that’s best for everyone. It’s certainly the best thing for me. I won’t leave, unless you want me to. Or until fate forces my hand, your friendship is all we have. And I will be happy to have it, eventually.”

Tav’s heart broke for the man. It must be quite painful to not have those feelings returned. For a moment, she thought about what she would do if Astarion ever stops feeling the things he says he feels for her. And the thought almost brought tears to her eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she couldn’t hide the crack in her voice. But Gale was never going to be the cause of it. 

“Worry not. I carry my regrets wherever I go and I am used to their weight. One more will not break my back.” He gripped her hands one final time before she pulled away. 

She gave him a sad smile before walking over to where Karlach and Astarion stood. Grabbing the bottle from Astarion’s hands, she drank deep for a moment. They both glanced at each other before turning back towards the Elf. She handed the bottle back to him before smiling at Karlach, “Is there anything you have to admit to me? Any deep romantic feelings or attachment?”

Karlach laughed, “What? No, soldier!” She put her still warm hand on the much smaller elf’s shoulder. “You’re a dear friend. More than that, you’re family.”

Tav’s shoulders dropped, “Oh thank the Gods.” She turned to Astarion who was watching her with raised eyebrows, “Bed?” 

The moment they were inside his tent, she buried her face in his chest with her arms wrapped so tightly around his waist. “Darling, what’s wrong? Did the mean mage say something he shouldn’t have?” 

She didn’t want to pull far enough away to answer him. She didn’t want him to see her start to cry. She just shook her head and held him as close as she could. She wasn’t sure how to process these feelings. The vampire spawn just wrapped his arms around her trembling form. 

“You don’t have to say anything, just nod your head. Did Gale hurt you in any way?” She could hear the growl in his voice. It sounded more dangerous than normal. 

She pulled away with a deep inhale. She looked up at him with tears already streaming down her face. With a sniffle she whispered, “Gale admitted he had feelings for me, yes. But then I thought about how miserable life would be without you in it.”

Astarion froze, his body tensed. “So let me get this straight,” he swallowed, more nervous than he’s ever really been before. “You told Gale you’re not interested just to be with me? I do come with my complications, my love.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “I told Gale I’m not interested because I’m simply not interested.” Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek, “I just don’t ever want to imagine a life without you again. A world where you’re not with me. Because you’ve always been near, even if I didn’t know it.”

He remembers the night he told her about Cazador. The night he told her about the Szarr palace was also the same night she had told her about her tower. And how she could see the palace from her desk. It was true, they really have always been close in one way or another. “And you got that worked up because…?”

“I wouldn’t even know what I was missing,” she smiled at him, eyes still full of emotion. “You’ve been all of my firsts. First kiss, first night together. Hells, the first time I’ve held someone's hand was with you. This is all still very new to me. And the moment I thought about you not being with me I-” she let out a choked sob before gripping his shirt in her fists and burying her face in his chest once again. 

For a moment, the vampire spawn didn’t react. It still takes him a moment to return affection but he managed to wrap his arms around the trembling bard. He swallowed before gently rubbing the small of her back. The thought of someone wanting him this badly was…daunting, to say the least. He knew if they had met before the nautiloid, he’d mark her as a victim. She was pretty and just naive enough to fall for him. Hells, he had even known her parents. Cazador loved having the city’s nobility over, but never her. 

She was always the princess in the tower. Always there but never seen. Even Cazador had thought she was a mere rumor and nothing else.

For a while, he just held her while she cried. He wasn’t sure what else he could do besides hold her. Nothing he could say would comfort her. They weren’t even sure if they would survive this mess. So he pulled her closer. The rest of the night passed as they were wrapped in each other’s embrace. Soft, whispered words of a future sprinkled with hope. For the first time in his unlife, he had more than just hope.

The next couple of days passed uneventfully. They were only traveling, plain and simple. Onwards to Baldur’s Gate. Where all of their dooms or salvations lay. In the gloom of it all, Tav wanted some fun. She had gone to Shadowheart and pilfered some of her extra blankets with promises to replace them once they reached the city. As they set up camp yet again, she made her way towards the lake side. She laid out all of the blankets in a large square before finding the extra food she had squirreled away. And pulled out the best wine she could find. It was an obviously aged bottle still covered in a thick layer of dust, but the label looked fancy.  She truly knew nothing about wine so she prayed to whomever was listening that it wasn’t swill. She then adjusted her bustier in an awkward manner before smiling to herself and searching for the vampire spawn.

He wasn’t hard to find. No one heard what she whispered in his ear. But they certainly noticed the fond smile and raised eyebrows as she dragged him away from the camp. Astarion looked at the little picnic she had put together, his hand in hers before kissing the top of her head. “And what’s the special occasion, darling?”

She smiled up at him, unabashed emotion in her eyes with a grin on her face. She was truly divine in the moonlight. She shrugged, “I just wanted to do something nice for you. We reach Baldur’s Gate in a couple days and we have to hit the ground running soon. I just wanted to take a moment, just for us.” She picked up the bottle of wine she had found, “I hope it’s okay. I know it’s old but I don’t know if it’s good.” 

He smiled and pulled her close. “Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?”

The tips of her ears flushed as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. And then they sat and talked and ate and drank. They spoke about the Gauntlet of Shar, about the monastery, about the Moonrise Towers. And the conversation drifted to their party as Tav slowly became more and more tipsy. She talked about Wyll and his obvious daddy issues. Shadowheart and her love for more adult literature. And Astarion was all too happy to sit and listen to her. It’s one of the things that drew him to her, after all. She could read people like they were a book she was all too happy to read. 

As the evening turned into night, the pair ended up against a nearby rock. Tav sitting on his lap as he peppered her neck with kisses. And as Tav’s giggles turned into soft moans as his hands started to travel to her waist. “You should keep quiet, my sweet, we wouldn’t want to wake the entire camp up. Would we?” He whispered before nipping at the base of her neck. 

“I-I think you’d like that far too much,” she managed to gasp out as he helped her rock her hips back and forth against him. 

He chuckled against her neck, leaving trails of almost bites with his fangs. “What ever makes you say that?”

“Astarion!” She moaned, grabbing the back of his head as he finally sank his teeth into her neck. She gripped his curls in one hand and dug her nails into his shoulder with the other. Her hips moved on their own as he slowly drank from her. His arms wrapped around her waist as he held her up. Between the wine and him drinking from her, she felt lightheaded. But that made the friction between them feel all the more intense. 

“You always taste just so perfect, my love.” He slowly released her neck before slamming his lips against hers. He knew he was being needy but he craved her. As his lips melded against hers his nimble fingers went to work on the knots of her bustier. It never took him long to get her out of her clothes and tonight was no exception. 

She grabbed his hands before he could fully remove her bustier, cradling his hands in hers. “Are you sure you want to do this? We really don’t have to. I’m happy to just sit here with you.” Her voice was barely a whisper, something meant just for him. 

He smiled at her before kissing her again, “Darling, if I didn’t wish to have you, I wouldn’t have you half dressed sitting on my lap.”

She smiled and let go of his hands and let him return to practically tearing off her clothing. He wasn’t satisfied until she was sat on his lap in nothing but her underwear. His face buried in her breasts, leaving small little nicks with his teeth as he made his way back up to her lips. Her hands gripped his shoulder as he snaked his hand down her body. He made sure to feel all the softness that was still on her body, never failing to trace her curves. 

Tav was small but years in a tower had made her body gentle. Her hands were rough from her instruments, yes, and she did have a lot of skill with a blade. But she was in no way muscular. And Astarion enjoyed that more than he could say. He enjoyed being able to almost see the tremors in her thighs before he felt it. Gods, he needed her. 

It only took him a moment to find her clit and draw slow, gentle circles around it. Never quite touching it directly. “Darling, you’re already shaking. Did you miss me that much?”

“Yes!” She cried into his ear. “Y-you’re teasing me.” Her head fell against his shoulder as her body trembled against him. 

“Oh, I’d never do such a thing,” He smiled and buried his hand in her hair. “I simply want to take my time enjoying you.” The vampire spawn slowly filled her cunt with his fingers, his palm grinding against her clit. 

She tried hard to keep quiet. Really she did. But when his fingers curled inside of her? She couldn’t help but cry out his name. How was he so patient? All she wanted was to have him inside her. He pumped his fingers in and out of her cunt so painfully slowly. 

Now, Tav may have been too focused on the rogue’s hands to notice anything else. But Astarion wasn’t. He knew Halsin and Gale were keeping watch tonight. He also knew it was far too late for anyone else to be awake. Which is why his hands didn’t stop when he noticed the bushes across from them moved. It was so subtle that he almost missed it.

Almost.

Someone was watching them. And he had an inkling he knew exactly who it was. The thought made him grin against Tav’s bloodsoaked neck. He sped up his fingers, holding her as she writhed against him. “That’s it, love, don’t hold a single thing back.” She came with a cry of his name. She was still trembling as he made a show of licking his own fingers clean. “I do so enjoy how you taste, my love.” He didn’t whisper this time. He wanted the wizard in the bushes to hear.

With shaking hands she went to untie the knots on his trousers. He leaned back against the rock, letting her take his length in her hands. “M-may I?” Her neck was stained just as red as the flush on her cheeks. Her big blue eyes wide in anticipation. 

“May you what?” His hand went to her throat and he felt her breath catch.

“M-may I ride you?” It really was endearing how she asked. Her voice was breathless and her chest was heaving. He had never been overly rough with her. But with a voyeur in the bushes? He was more than tempted to lay claim to the nearly virgin in his lap. 

He pouted at her, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, darling.”

Her eyes went wider than before. “W-what?”

She was so innocent. So pure, he had never even heard her swear before. “What is it exactly that you would like to do?” He purred, his forehead meeting hers. “Don’t play coy with me now.”

She swallowed, the tips of her ears matching the rest of her face. “Astarion,” she whined. 

“If you use your words, love, I’ll be happy to give you anything you want.”

She whined again when the grip around her throat tightened ever so slightly. “I-I want-” another swallow, “I want to ride your cock.”

He smiled, “See? Now was that so hard? You did so well,” he whispered against her lips.  She adjusted herself over him, still holding him in one hand while the other braced herself on his shoulder. His hand still held her throat, not quite squeezing just letting her know he was there. The bard lowered herself onto him. He groaned as she sank down. “Perfect.”

Her other hand flew up to his chest while she gripped his blouse so tightly that her knuckles were whiter than before. Her head spun while the wine loosened her tongue. “Gods, Astarion.” 

“Use your words, darling,” he moaned against her neck, his eyes keeping an eye on the bush yet again. He wanted the wizard to see how good he could make her feel. He wanted him to see that he wasn’t even a thought on her mind. He wanted him to see that she wanted him and not Gale.

She sat for a moment, adjusting to his size before rocking her hips back and forth. Astarion’s hands flew to her hips to help guide her movements. “Feels so good,” she whimpered, still clutching at his blouse. 

“That’s it, pet. You can take it, I know you can.” Her movements were entirely her own. She gradually went from rocking to bouncing. His body told him to throw his head back but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Maybe now Gale would realize she was his. Maybe he had more of a possessive streak than he thought. 

“Your hand, put it back!” She used his chest as leverage for her movements. He could feel her getting close and who was he to deny her? He instinctively put his hand back around her throat and squeezed. He had never felt her tighten around him harder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He let her sit like that for a moment as she started to relax once again.

Whoever was in the bushes was gone now. Either too riled up to stay or too heartbroken to watch. Either way, Astarion found it satisfying. Satisfying enough to toss Tav on her back and put her ankles on his shoulder. It was something about knowing Tav not only trusted him but chose him, drove him wild. Far more than any lover he’s had in the past. Even through her half opened eyes and her mind filled with wine and pleasure, her eyes were still filled with that emotion. That feeling that he wouldn’t dare put words to yet. 

She was his. And he was equally hers. 

Her moans and whimpers filled the air but he felt so far away from her. Too far. She grabbed his hands and pulled him closer, lacing her hands with his. “Beautiful,” was all she could whisper before she clenched around him. This time, he wasn’t far behind her. They laid like that for a while. Him on top of her, her tracing small patterns on his back. The scars were a reminder of what awaited them in Baldur’s Gate. But it could wait for now. For now they had each other. 

“Did you see who was in the bushes?” 

He immediately met her eyes, “You knew?”

“I’m naive, not stupid.” She giggled, rolling over to her side.

“I believe we just gave the magic eater quite the eyeful.”

[lookforsomeoneelse]

Can we get some more sahsrau? Does not have to be a long one-shot, I just really like how you write! And I would love to hear more of your ideas!

Maybe about how specific characters show that they interact with the reader? For example, how they act before reader is in HSR, and once reader is in HSR? As for characters, you can choose who ever you want! You're the one writing it after all.

As for writing, you asked if writing gets better if you do it often? And well, for me what works is writing, doesn't matter if it not good, just enjoy yourself. Plus reading books, fanfics, or whatever you like once again, and this time try to pay attention to how things are worded in your favorite books/fanfics.

Anyway, take good care of yourself cause there are always people who care about you, and stay hydrated!

Alright! First ask. Only gonna be headcanons because I’m a procrastinator. Reader discretion is advised, because I have no idea what to put for the content warning. I think it only goes for Kafka though.

Herta

I touched on her briefly in another post, but know that despite her arrogance and apathy towards most, she’s just as down bad for you as the rest of the cast.

She gives her absolute best when it comes to you.

Also in Simulated Universe, your word is absolute law. If the simulated you decides that the project is a bad idea or something, Herta will absolutely stop, regardless of the resources she put into its creation.

I imagine her to be with you the exact opposite of how she treats everybody else- with the utmost respect and attention.

Once you actually do make it inside of the game for whatever reason, Herta is absolutely ecstatic.

When you’re actually around her though…

Let’s say that her IQ drops by a significant amount.

Combined with her intense faith, this can lead to a lot of misunderstandings and false assumptions.

You can legit just be sitting down or something and herta will be in the background like “WRITE THAT DOWN, WRITE THAT DOWN!”

Misha

Born as a reincarnation(?) of the Watchmaker, I’m not actually going to discuss him. Rather, I wanna talk about who he originally was, and (technically) his creation.

Mikhail Char Legwork, aka The Watchmaker, was also a devout follower of yours.

All throughout his travels on the Express, he never lost sight of your mercy, which allowed him to survive on his long journeys.

Thanks to this, you end up as a “character” in the Clockie cartoon, who the writers show as a mysterious figure who gave Clockie his powers.

There’s also a LOT of propaganda surrounding you in basically every piece of media, (in the game) including Clockie.

Speaking of media…

Robin

ah yes, the shining popstar of the universe herself, Robin!

Robin’s no doubt another faithful follower of yours.

She believes that her amazing voice and innate talent came from you (it actually came from Chevy, holy cow is she a good singer) and she gives many praises to you for that.

In fact, do you want to know what her best selling single is?

It’s not Sway to my Beat in Cosmos, nor Hope is The Thing with Feathers, and it’s not even If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking!

It’s actually a song- a hymn, rather, composed and sung specifically just for you.

Ask basically anybody who is a fan of hers and I can bet that they know the lyrics by heart and can absolutely sing it backwards.

Make it into their reality, and you’ll get free access to front seats to any and all of her concerts. And when I say “front seat” I mean you get a whole ass throne specifically built for your comfort.

She will die of joy if you ask her for an autograph. Keep that in mind.

Kafka

last but most certainly not least, it’s our mom, but more commonly known as Kafka, the charismatic and beautiful Stellaron Hunter with a big bounty and big boobies. (I’m f#cking ashamed of myself for writing that)

She’s the one character on this list that we haven’t been given a backstory for- except some voice lines, but they really don’t tell us anything.

As such, the only real thing I can tell you is that she’s faithful to you, just like everyone else.

It becomes a completely different song and dance if you come to them, though.

She’s essentially a glorified wine aunt, and she will treat you out for whatever you wish.

She’s also very very defensive of you.

That guy over looks stole a glance? Dead next morning.

That girl goes even within 50 meters of you without your permission? Her fate is sealed.

Kafka is by no means like this to you, however.

She’s probably gonna lick your shoes free of charge.

(A/N: I, uh, really like asks. please send more. you probably won’t get anything good, but least you’ll get what you requested.)

[morsesnotes]

I'm still not over this interview and these interactions specifically. They're so dorky in a very endearing way:

Shaun Evans: I think [Donna Tartt] herself is kind of extraordinary. Have you read “The Goldfinch”?

1883Mag: Yes! Weirdly enough, I started with “The Goldfinch” and loved it, thought it was incredible, and then wanted to go back and read her other work. She has another book, “The Little Friend”, I don’t know if you’ve read that?

Shaun: I’ve not read it yet!

1883Mag: It’s probably not as good as the other two.

Shaun: That’s good to know actually. She’s such an extraordinary writer. I feel like…and this is so rare but so amazing when you do get it, but when you read something and you’ve felt everything there with those people. I was totally there, I was totally present. That is an extraordinary thing when you think about it, right? Someone has sat at their kitchen table or wherever they’re sitting…at their desk…and they’re just putting words on paper but it’s translated and makes you feel something and you go on an experience. And I feel like that with Donna Tartt. Her work is…I started to watch videos of her on YouTube…weird [laughs] but she takes years to write her books, doesn’t she?

----

1883Mag: It’s nice that they facilitated an environment where you could feel comfortable asking questions and why they made the artistic choices they made. It must be such an interesting filming experience because…it feels cramped, when you’re watching it. It feels claustrophobic on the ship.

Shaun: The set was like that! It was like that. It was vast in a way that was incredibly detailed and enabled you to shoot in a very narrow and condensed, claustrophobic way, so it was an extraordinary set, so I have to pay tribute to those guys. But, to go back to the director thing. I would never ask them, Why did you do this? Tell me about it. Because, as a director, you don’t want to feel like people are breathing down your neck. So I would simply observe them.

1883Mag: You’re not like, What’s going on here? [Laughs]

Shaun: [Laughs] Excuse me, before we go on, why are you doing that? Is that a wise choice?

1883Mag: They’re sweating, like Uhhhh…

Shaun: And it’ll be my last job as an actor as well!

1883Mag: You’re getting fired from everything. Now you have to do photography full time because they’re like, This guy is overly excited…[Laughs].

Shaun: [Laughs]. That’s me, jack of all trades, master of none!

----

1883Mag: It’s nice that you were able to start it off by directing, and that you didn’t do anything so crazy that they just took the camera away from you. [Laughs].

Shaun: [Laughs]. Quite the attempt! I chained myself behind the camera, so.

1883Mag: You’re like, I’m fine, I’m fine, I just needed to get it out of my system! [Laughs].

Shaun: [Laughs]. All right guys, come on, please?!

1883Mag: [Laughs]. Totally throw your entire reputation away. They’re gonna be like, So, he’s gonna be recast for season 9…

Shaun: [Laughs]. And could you lose our phone number, please? Trying to call them like, Hey, I’m Endeavour! And they’re like, Not anymore!

1883Mag: [Laughs]. Everyone can be replaced! You’re just muttering in your dark room like, I used to be an inspector once.

Shaun: [Laughs]. Like, I much preferred photography anyway. As I just do some interesting self-portraits.

1883Mag: As long as you don’t cut your ear off, you’ll be totally fine! [Laughs].

Shaun: Can you imagine?

1883Mag: Terrible, but hilarious.

Shaun: [Laughs]. Terrible but hilarious, yeah!

[poopwons]

ok now im gonna need u to write photographer armin pls & thank you!! him giving u a photo album of his fav photos when he confesses? yes 100%

CHLOE MY DEAREST. omg I'm sorry I left you in drafts for so long. I had two panic inducing pet incidents happen within like two days of each other. Everyone's okay, I just freak out when things happen to my babies. **I've also never written for Armin, so this was a bit of a challenge for me. I hope this is okay💖 It's probably my own insecurities about the way I look but I literally fantasize about seeing myself through other peoples eyes, so literally any opportunity to write about that, I'm gonna take it LOL**

You love when it's like this. Just you and Armin laying out on the hood of his car, music playing softly through the open windows, while you talk about anything and everything under the sun.

You loved everyone in the friend group, but you and Armin just seemed to have a special connection. It was easy to talk to him about everything, and he was always bringing little fun facts for you when you needed some cheering up or even just a change of subject when things got too heavy.

So, here you were, chattering on and on about a movie you’d watched recently, telling him about every theory you’d thought up and all the different characters. You can’t help but notice Armin seems to be looking at you differently this time, more attentive, but also not. Like he’s making more eye contact but he’s not actually hearing you.

“Armin?…you okay?” You ask, face etched with concern.

“Hm?” He seems to shake himself out of his head to answer you. “Y-yeah. I’m fine, sorry. Just a lot of my mind, I guess.”

Well, that was different. He’s usually really up front with you when something was bothering him. The two of you confiding in each other and offering advice where you could.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You sit up, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him more clearly. He seems…you don’t know, nervous maybe?

He pauses, like he’s trying to decide if he really wants to talk to you about this specific thing or not. He sighs, turning to face you.

"Do you ever wonder if it's better to enjoy something the way it is, taking what you can get, rather than risking ruining everything by asking for more?"

"I guess that depends on what the thing is," you say, trying not to pry. "I think, if it's something important to you, what's the harm in asking for more and trying to get the most out of it?"

Armin makes a face, it's almost a pained expression. You scoot a little closer to him, taking his hand in yours, trying to comfort him.

"It would help if I knew exactly what we were referring to." You say gently, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. You just want him to know that you're here for him, just like he's always been there for you.

He takes a deep breath, looking into your eyes, you hope he can see the genuine concern there,

"You know, every time I talk to everyone else about this, they always tell me just to man up and say something. That everything will end up okay, and I'm sure if it was anyone else, that would be true. But, I'm not anyone else, I'm me and..and.."

He does this when he's nervous or anxious about something. Ranting and going on and on, not realizing that all the extra words don't do anything to soothe his nerves. You give his hand another squeeze.

"Armin," You say gently, "I still don't have any idea what you're talking about."

He gives you an apologetic look, then lets out a nervous chuckle.

"Sorry, you're right. I'm not being very clear, am I?" He shakes his head again and goes to move off the hood. "Hang on, maybe this will help."

You wait for him as he goes into the trunk of the car, searching for something before slamming the trunk back down and holding out a book to you. You take it hesitantly, unsure if it's really meant for you or not despite him handing it to you.

"Open it," He's still standing at the hood of the car, fiddling with his nails.

You take the book, holding it upright and opening it, surprised to see a bunch of photos, and you seem to be at the center of all of them. There are photos where you were all obviously with the group, but despite there being so many other potential subjects, Armin had focused on you. There were some photos that he took when it was just the two of you, late at night when he'd take you on a drive after complaining that you couldn't sleep, photos of the two of you at breakfast together.

"I um.. I was saving that for your birthday, but Jean and Connie said I should just give it to you now. It's all my favorite pictures of us, a-and some of my favorites of you." He runs his hand through his hair, sighing before he continues. "Look, I know we're really good friends, and I don't want to mess up anything we have.. I just.." Another sigh, and you can't help but stare at him now, album still clutched in your hands. "You're so... special, an-and smart, and funny, and beautiful, it..god, it drives me crazy sometimes. I...like you..like, really, really like you."

You just sit there, hands clutching the album, staring at him. You can't believe what you just heard. Your heart is hammering in your chest, the blood rushing in your ears. He keeps going while you process everything he's said.

"and I... totally get it if you don't feel the same. Our friendship is so important to me and I don't want this to make things weird.."

"Armin," You start, setting the book to the side, before sitting up on your knees to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into you. "I like you too, a lot."

"You do?" He asks like he's genuinely surprised.

"Yes, you dummy." You chuckle, cupping his face in your hands. "Do you see me calling anyone else at 3am when I can't sleep?"

"I..I mean, no but I thought you just liked riding in my car the best."

"I like being with you the best."

"Oh," He lets that process for a minute, while you just look at him with that same lovey-dovey look you've always given him, wondering how in the hell he could have missed it. "So, do..do you want to be with me?"

"Obviously," You giggle again, before pressing your lips to his, content to spend your whole summer just like this, with your boyfriend.

[realbeijinger]

A semi-coherent rant on climate change, the value of idealism, and a criticism of TGCF (But also not really because I haven’t finished it yet and also I love MXTX…)

I’m in the middle of Book 3 of Tian Guan Ci Fu, and it is legit making me depressed. Like really, unnecessarily sad. I know I should probably wait until the end to write up my thoughts since I don’t know how things will ultimately turn out, but I feel like I need to process. And so, here we go…

First of all, I am sooo Xie Lian. I feel like this story gets me down so much because it hits too close to home. When I was little, I was super idealistic—I used to go around telling people that love was the most important thing in the world, and that civilization was wrong, because we were destroying the environment, and so we should all go back to living in harmony with nature. I was like a crazy, radical five year old, but also somehow mature-sounding and nauseatingly sweet. Grownups loved me and assumed I would grow up to do something big. But… I haven’t really. Instead I am just a normal person and realized that the world is actually super complicated—like I said, sooo Xie Lian. Except I never became a god or saved even one person…    

Anyways, it’s not like I disagree with MXTX’s criticism of blind idealism. She hit the nail on the head—crushingly well. But I guess, like Xie Lian, I am still clinging to that last bit of hope I haven’t let go of yet.

In TGCF and Mo Dao Zu Shi, things are never black and white, and she criticizes those characters who act with a blind sense of righteousness. She believes in nuance. And yet, in our current moment, we are headed toward a climate catastrophe, and it feels like we are all just sitting back, trying to carefully weigh the ideal course of action—the pros and cons, scared of being too rash, too impulsive—while the world burns.

When I first started watching the Untamed (which is where my MXTX journey started), I was initially drawn in by this extremely beautiful man who was willing to sacrifice so much to do what was right. I loved how he refused to compromise with this screwed up society. Because, I am so frustrated with myself for always compromising. For being part of this system that’s horrible and destroying the world and personally doing very little to stop it. And I wanted to be inspired—and for a minute I was by Wei Wuxian.  

And then, of course, it turns out that the real message was the complete opposite of that, and having dogmatic, uncompromising morals is not something to be applauded. In the eyes of MXTX, it’s very dangerous.

And I mean, she’s not wrong. But I can’t help but think maybe we still need heroes like that. I really admire Greta Thunberg who refuses to fly in planes, buy anything new, doesn’t eat meat. Before anyone joined her protests, she was ditching school every day, literally sitting all by herself in front of Swedish parliament with one pathetic-looking sign. I mean that kind of commitment takes HUGE resolve. It has to come from a total sense of self-righteousness, from a complete unwillingness to compromise or back down—a refusal to listen to her parents, or her teachers, or the large numbers of people around her who were definitely telling her she was nuts. I mean, I try to go veg, and my mother-in-law hands me one homemade meat dish and I instantly fold…

In interviews, Greta often talks about how being on the autism spectrum causes her to view the world in very black and white terms—with good and evil being clearly defined. She often refers to the older generation as “evil” for their role in the climate crisis—a word MXTX would probably not approve of. Normally, I don’t think black and white thinking is good. I also believe in nuance. But when it comes to something like climate, it’s incredibly complicated but also incredibly simple. We have to stop burning fossil fuels. We have to do it now. If we want humanity to survive, we don’t have a choice. We gotta pull out all the stops. We can’t hesitate. And if we do, we’ll lose everything. Any drawbacks that may come from us not using fossil fuels are completely outweighed if the climate goes to shit. There’s no real nuance in that. And to get people to make that sort of change, you need passion. You need motivation. You need feeling. Basically, you need blind idealism. We are soooo screwed, and really, blind idealism is all we have left.     

And I want to have that. Part of me wants to get back to that idealism I lost. But like Xie Lian, I don’t know how…

I dunno. There are always reasons not to do anything. Most of us know life is complicated—our limitations are usually way too obvious. But, I think, sometimes we still should take the single log bridge into darkness. And maybe we need some dumb, cliché hero story to give us the motivation to do it…

Of course, saving the world is not easy. Especially when it comes to large scale national or international politics, the situation in Xianle demonstrates very clearly how easy it is to create unintended consequences. Everything is so complex. There are so many factors, so many competing interests to consider. I do not envy political leaders.

But most of us are not political leaders. Most of us are just ordinary people who want to make the world a little better. We have the capacity to be activists, but that’s it. We don’t have the power to make detailed policy decisions anyway. And so, to some extent, I don’t think we need to worry so much about all that. We just have to push politicians in the right direction.

Even at that high leadership level, though, I do think it’s possible to make better choices—ones that create less harm. And I do think we have an obligation to try and find those. I don’t agree with what the State Preceptor said (and what I think MXTX actually believes), that “Assigning fault is meaningless.” To me, that’s akin to giving up on morality altogether.

A lot of this is a matter of perspective. Yes, if you zoom out far enough, assigning fault is meaningless. But then, if you zoom out far enough, everything is meaningless. Everything we love and care about will one day be gone. Our battles for justice, for equality, for the people we love, will all be entirely pointless once our current society goes the way of the Aztecs, once humanity disappears, once the earth gets swallowed by the sun.

Again, if we zoom far enough out, climate change is not really a problem. According to that wise state preceptor, “In this world, fortune—good or bad—is predetermined.” MXTX believes there is only so much good fortune in the world. If we somehow manage to take too much of it, we will eventually pay the price. Balance will be restored.  

Which is exactly what is happening in this era of climate catastrophe. In the past 200 years since the industrial revolution, humanity has taken a lot of fortune. For the first time in history, we don’t worry every day about finding food. We’ve conquered a whole host of deadly diseases, have greatly reduced our need for manual labor, and can spend our days in mental pursuits, making art, or writing self-indulgent essays about Chinese web novels.

All of this, I would argue, is not really because of human ingenuity, but because we happened to find an incredibly powerful energy source—fossil fuels—which have given us the illusion of “human progress.” Let’s remember that this “progress” has only lasted for about 200 years, a small dot on the graph of human existence (300,000 years), and that for most of that time, people viewed history as a cycle, with inevitable ups and downs, rather than a continuous march upward.

In other words, in the past 200 years, we’ve taken too much fortune. But nature will correct the balance. I don’t think climate change will destroy life on earth. Even if the worst happens and humanity bites the dust, other species will most likely persist, evolving into creatures completely new—a rebirth, of sorts. Looking at it from that far-off, disinterested perspective, it’s not really a problem. It’s just what nature does. New species follow each other, one after the next—like passing seasons.

But, even if all this is true, I don’t think we can be so detached. I don’t think we can live our lives believing that morality is pointless, not trying to do the right thing, or not worrying about how our actions affect others. If we approach life with such indifference, what’s to stop us from completely giving up?

One of my favorite TV shows is this old drama called Dead Like Me, where a wise, older character (a state preceptor, of sorts), says to the main character, “If you stand too close to a painting — all you see are patches of color, if you stand too far back, you can't see any of the detail.” In other words, when it comes to life, you need to stand the right distance away. Personally, I think MXTX is standing too far back. It’s true, there is so much we can’t control. Though we may be able to make things better for a bit, we cannot alter the basic cycle of life. Life is suffering. It was true when Buddha said it, and it’s true now. And if we try to “attempt the impossible,” as the Jiang motto says, and radically change that dynamic, we will fail.

But unlike in MXTX’s universe, fate doesn’t really screw us at every turn. Every day there are small victories. I used to do social work, which really was an exercise in the futility of trying to fix deeply rooted problems with insufficient tools, but I still remember those few times when I did do something right: the old man with dementia I got to take his meds, the guy who found his family on Facebook.

Even just writing a stupid email to Biden telling him to stop the drilling… we have to value those actions. We have to be invested. Sure, the universe doesn’t care. But I think we should still care. We can’t just throw up our hands and say the world is fucked. Because if everyone did that, the world really would be fucked. Even more so than it already is.  

Again, I realize I don’t entirely know where she’s going with all this. It’s very possible there’s going to be more to it than just criticizing idealism. Despite all the depressing stuff, I see crumbs of hope in how Hua Cheng loves Xie Lian, and values his attempts to help others. The line, “Although foolish, it is brave,” just floored me. I loved it so much. Honestly, I’d probably be happy if she leaves open any hope for idealism at all.   

But also, I have to prepare myself for the possibility that I will not totally agree with what she has to say. Which should be fine. I mean, in real life, I’m pretty good at interacting with people I fundamentally disagree with. But… in the hands of an author like MXTX, I feel like my emotions are like putty. I’m completely at her mercy. And partially, I don’t want to fight that. I want to give myself to the story, and lose myself in it completely. That’s a great feeling, but also, kind of… vulnerable? And then, when so emotionally invested, to suddenly realize that what the author’s saying bothers me…

Of course, I’ll get over it. I always do. Usually I write meta or fanfic as a way to process—to get out of someone else’s story, out of their head, and back into my own.

Anyways, we’ll see. Don’t tell me what happens!! I am trusting YOU, strangers on the internet!

If that’s not blind idealism, I don’t know what is…

[muriel-not-the-dim-one]

@actual-changeling explained, beautifully in my opinion, what happened that afternoon in the bookstore. I did look in the window but only for a moment to thank Mr. Fell for the book Mr. Crowley gave me. At that moment, I realized what “broken heart” really meant.

I decided to write down some things for Mr. Crowley in case he ever came back by. I’m only a 37th scrivener, but I keep very good records.

From the journal of Muriel, 37th Scrivener, Assistant Bookstore Keeper to Mr. AZ Fell: Entry #1

It’s been *7 hours and 15 days*, since Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley left. I keep finding things to keep myself busy, but I find myself missing them both.

I love the books. The rich smell of them. The sweet bergamot, leather, Earl Grey and Talisker that lingered in the back room especially.

Sometimes I take Mr. Fells soft, grey jacket off the coat rack, where it has lived since he left, wrap it around my body and sit in the sunlight, my body tucked into the chair I have come to love. The first time I did this, it was almost a guilty feeling. Like peeking into someone’s private memories without their permission. But as time went on, it became soothing, calming, loving.

I close my eyes and see flashes of memories. Meeting the snake/demon in the garden. Feeling that first rain, and the overwhelming feeling to protect the demon. To cover him with his wing, when what they really wanted to do was wrap him tightly, hold him close. To take away the pain they felt within.

Sometimes I never even opened the blinds in the shop. (That came as no surprise to anyone who was familiar with the bookshop and it’s strange hours.) The memories flooding through me, transporting me to a time that only a deep love can take you to. As much as I loved reading the books, wearing Aziraphales jacket was like BEING in a book, like living each moment.

Standing with Crawley/ Crowley feeling the rain on their face as the flood was beginning. Sensing the pain inside the demon as he looked at the kids playing. I knew something was wrong with this, but God had to do it, right? I just couldn’t put my finger on why.

Being in Rome, hearing Crowleys voice. Aziraphales heart (even though angels and demons didn’t need them) leaping in excitement, only to feel the overwhelming anger, anxiety, deep shame (?) not because of Crowley or what he had done, but because of the human capacity for evil, far worse than even hell and it’s demons were capable of. Trying to joke with Crowley about still being a demon, only to have it backfire in his face. Telling Crowley he was in Rome to go to a new restaurant. (I really need to try some of the human food. If it was as good as the cuppatea and cocoa I had tasted, I was pretty sure I would like it.) Aziraphale offering to tempt Crowley with oysters and the warmth that surged through their body when Crowley looked at Aziraphale, that half smile radiating like the sun within them.

Standing in a crowd, watching the horror they were inflicting on this beautiful, kind soul. Hearing Crawley/Crowley come up beside him. Turning to look at the demon, her beauty radiating. She cared deeply for the carpenter, and couldn’t understand until Aziraphale told her the message the carpenter was delivering, why they would choose to hurt him. That memory seemed the most painful to me.

Realizing Crowley would face a horrible death if Hell ever found out about Job and what Crowley had done. The pride I felt knowing that Aziraphale, his love of Humanity and Crowley, would be willing to sacrifice his life as well.

On and on the memories went, flashes of joy, love, and a never ending relationship between them.

The Globe and Shakespeare. Why did Aziraphale deny Crowley so much? I couldn’t decide if it was fear or protectiveness.

The way Crowley would do anything for him.

Saving him from the Bastille when he could have saved himself.

Realizing Crowley was always watching out for his Angel. The nazis and possible discorporation, saving Aziraphales beloved books. The touch of his hand as he gave him the sachel. The almost breathlessness I felt at that moment revealing the depth of love that Aziraphale felt for Crowley. The magic show Crowley gave him the confidence to do.

Crowleys note when he asked Aziraphale for insurance. The complete HORROR he felt when he thought Crowley wanted it in case he needed to destroy himself. It seemed to Crowley the way Aziraphale acted, he was appalled at him for asking. Like he thought he wanted him to possibly get into trouble for it. In reality, Aziraphale couldn’t bear the thought of a life without Crowley, the pain and terror showing on his face.

Later hearing about Crowleys “little caper” scared Aziraphale. It made him almost go mad with worry. He knew no one involved but he, understood what even one drop of Holy Water could do to Crowley. As much of a danger, sneaking Holy Water to a demon could be for Aziraphale, he was NOT going to let this happen. He was not going to allow a chance that anything could happen to Crowley.

The sense of relief, the deep love, the rush of feeling, I heard the words almost spoken with an ache, “Aziraphale DOES love me as much as I love him.” The power so strong, so beautifully pure it slammed me in the chest. I had to stand and take the jacket off.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and as I touched the wetness on my cheeks, unbelievably aching for an Angel and a Demon that were kind to me.

*End Journal Entry for the day*

I began sorting through the books, anything to keep myself busy, willing the tears to stop.

[elendsessor]

MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR VENGEANCE SPOILERS BUT I’M MAD

ever since i got accidentally spoiled for what happens to aogami i don’t think i’m gonna finish the game.

yes he comes back i did end up being told that and i looked into it myself since it did weigh down on me but it genuinely upsets me what’s actually done with him.

like fine ok koshimizu does more that’s fine he gets development that’s fine but i really really REALLY wish we could go one goddamn smt game without having to stick to some kind of major death shit like that. and the worst part is that, while yeah aogami’s all fine and well, after final boss luci, there’s no fucking other closure with it. just oh hey he’s fine this is what he learned yada yada dude fucjing died and we’re not gonna talk about that??? at all??? no hugging it out?????? SOMETHING?????????? plus new law/new chaos is another just about everyone dies and i genuinely don’t think it fits like at all.

and you’re telling me this is how aogami fucking dies. in a similar manner to how he and the mc almost die to lahmu but this time there’s just no takesy backsies.

how aogami comes back also mirrors dds2 and i’ve always been absurdly vocal how much i hate the plot of that game for a ton of reasons.

it’s just??? ik aogami’s a tool, but this was the other problem with base 5 especially tne. he gets the most development but gets done dirty. it’s like the writers forgot not only is the mc sharing a body, but the other person sharing it with him is an actual character.

i wish there was more of a way to switch between the two if we absolutely have to be stuck with the new nahobino form.

also really hate saying it since the finale of base 5 was poopoo garbage the throne stuff is more interesting and it being dropped is genuinely a wasted opportunity.

this is gonna be the hottest smt take of the century and yes i’m insanely biased. how aogami is written means a lot to me on a personal level. sue me, he’s a comfort character.

i guess that’s what makes the writing insanely good. you get attached to a machine turned bestie abd he dies so it’s gonna hit hard but this is just??? the mc is never allowed to actually properly die along side his literal soulmate meanwhile all the other pairings do, and i think that’s honestly a bit too cruel even by good ol pessimistic smt standards.

i’m probably going to play up until that moment and if it does hook me in enough that i can ignore the whole temporary death thing then i might finish it. just really doesn’t sit right with me otherwise. sorry.

at least the steel book is a good collector’s piece.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty (Part 4)

I don’t feel like talking anymore, so when a boy Jen knows comes over to join us on the sofa, I don’t even bother introducing myself, I just get up and go back inside. I spend some time wandering from room to room, going in and out of living rooms, dining rooms, studies, libraries, just looking at the kinds of things these people have in their house. Things that seem extravagant, that seem to have been bought just because they could be, not because they were necessary. There’s no way that anybody could ever read so many books in a lifetime. 

I go into the room with the grand piano and sit there plucking out some notes for a while, and then when I give up, having not produced anything that sounded all that great, I look to yet another bookcase and scan its shelves for something interesting enough to absorb myself in for a while. 

I spot a copy of Goodnight Mr. Tom tucked away among a row of hardcover classics. It’s a book I haven’t read in years, and I can hardly remember much about the story, only that I enjoyed reading it. I take it and flip open the front cover, and it’s well worn, the pages stained and fingerprinted. There’s writing on the first page, neat, looping, pencilled cursive that forms the words: Jude Turner. 5th Class. I stare at it for a while, and consider whether anybody would notice if this book went missing. How easy would it be for me to take it back into the kitchen and smuggle it into my bag, just so I could hold onto something that’s his?

“Are you going to play a tune or what?” 

I spin around with a start to see Jude leaning against the door frame with amusement on his face. I wonder how long he’s been standing there looking at me. I gather myself quickly and hold up the book to show him. “I was looking at this, actually. I read it in school.”

“I did too.” He comes over and sits with me on the piano stool, and I let him take it out of my hands. “I think about this book a lot, actually, and how it was kind of nuts that they made eleven year olds read it.”

“Why? Because of the war stuff?”

He lets out a little laugh. “Wasn’t there a scene with a dead baby?” Then he puts the book right back on the shelf. “No need to be reading a book like that when you’re at a party.” He says to me, “It’s grim enough.”

His whole left side is pressed against me, and I feel nervous and fidgety. “How are you feeling? A bit sad?” I ask him. 

“No. I’m doing fantastic.” He says. “Are you sad?”

“No, never better.” I say, and we stare each other down, a pair of rotten liars.

“I’m sorry I haven’t had a lot of time to talk to you, it’s hectic. Everyone wants to relive their fondest memories of me and talk about the good times. It’s weird, it’s kind of like being at my own funeral.” 

“They’re just going to miss you.”

“Yes but I’m not dying, I’m going to Germany.”

“It won’t be the same when you’re gone, though.” I begin, but he quickly cuts me off with a sharp: “I don’t want to talk about that.”  

I feel stupid, and stare down at my feet, the same old white adidas that saw me through the summer now looking so worn out and scruffy, their condition accentuated by the polished wooden floor beneath them.  

“Jude.” Someone says from the doorway, and I look up to see Michelle standing there, her mere presence only making me feel a hundred times worse. “We have a surprise for you. Can you come out to the kitchen?” 

“Yeah, just a second.” He tells her, and then she goes away. Nobody bothered introducing us and I’m glad of it, because I don’t think I could handle the discovery that Michelle is not only beautiful, but also a nice person. 

“They’ve all signed a card.” He explains. “And they’re going to give it to me now.”

“So much for a surprise.”

“Someone already let it slip. I don’t think I even want it.” He admits. 

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not goodbye, it’s like a see-you-later. I just hate all the fuss.” A muscle twitches in his jaw.

“Well, then I’m glad nobody asked me to sign it.” 

“Me too. I don’t want you to have written some platitude for me, some yearbook style ‘You rock! Never change!’”

“Is that what you think I’d write?” I laugh. 

“No, I just… you get the idea.”

“I do.”

“I’ll see you again, Evie. It’s not the end.” He says, looking right at me. 

“I know.” I say, and then someone is shouting his name from the kitchen, I watch him anxiously, waiting for him to get up and leave but he just ignores them. 

“I know we won’t get much time to talk tonight.” He tells me. “But we can tomorrow if you want to. My flight is at seven.”

“That’s early.”

“Yeah, I know, but if you can manage it, you can see me off. I’m getting up at four, so we can have breakfast together.”

“The last meal?”

“Not the last.”

“Okay. The last for now.”

“Will you get up? We can sit out and watch the sunrise. I’ll make you coffee.”

“Just me?”

“Just you, just us.”

“Yes.” I say immediately. “I’ll set my alarm. I’ll be there.”

“Okay.”

They’re still calling for him, so he wrenches himself from the seat and goes out to the kitchen for his gift, looking back at me one more time to point his finger at me. “Four.” he says again, and then he’s gone. 

Jude’s family gets home at midnight, Ivy sleeping in her fathers arms, and after that the party dies down quickly.  I start clearing up all of the cups and filling the bins with bottles and cans while Jude sits down at the end of the garden with Jen, talking about something that seems important, so I don’t interrupt them, regardless of how badly I want to sit and talk to him again, completely addicted to the things my body does whenever he’s close to me.

The last few stragglers, those who are staying the night, hunker down on the living room couches and I go upstairs and take one of the guest rooms. I ignore the pile of suitcases that Jen mentioned, unable to think about a whole life packed into bags like that, set for their journey across western europe tomorrow. 

As I lay in bed with the lights on I listen for Jude’s footsteps on the stairs. I hear him come up quietly, and then go into the bathroom. I imagine him coming to my door and knocking on it, and that I’ll let him in and he’ll sit with me on the bed and we’ll talk and talk about everything we can think of until our throats are sore, and I’ll run my fingers through his hair and touch his nose, his mouth, his earlobes with their tiny silver hoops and trace every freckle on his face so I can draw him from memory when he’s gone. 

But he comes out of the bathroom and goes straight into his bedroom. I grab my phone to set the alarm, then suddenly remember to text my mother. I compose a quick message telling her that I’m safe and well, and going to bed. Then I shove it under the pillow, turn off the light and go to sleep. 

Prev // Next

[washa]

I listened to The Summit audio (part 3) and here’s my favourite personal comments/thoughts! (Erik sleep with one eye fucking open.)

Yeah istg Porter if it’s a joke or something I will strangle you until your eyes pop out like a looney toon character. 

Damn. I’ll sit 🙏

I mean they both got beheaded. What’s with Bad vampires getting beheaded??

Again. Why are they so jabby.

HUH??? WILLIAM WHAT NOW. WHY HOW HUH????

Banishment. What other definition of banishment is there 😕 

OH SHIT HE WAS A SECRET SPY KINDA SHIT? Treasure be fucking around with a spy 😭

William is a two faced bitch confirmed?? (Jokes promise, I always thought William is such an interesting character from his first video and this proves it.)

HE ORDERED YOU TO WHAT. HOW DID YOU GET DEMON BLOOD THEN??

Oh my god he killed them for their property and money. I mean like probably not just that but still. William come on. 😕

Yes Porter, I HAVE MANY QUESTIONS?? MANY FUCKING QUESTIONS

No, I figured that. HOW DID YOU GET DEMON BLOOD PORTER?

Erik is having a FIELD DAY writing this. 

Porter i’m not saying it was wrong to kill them, but maybe don’t kill them 😊

Mmm yk what i smell, Corruption.

Holy shit there could’ve been ANOTHER Inversion??

Vincent. Vincent do you hear yourself? 

So it’s like, whoever kills each other first.

They all supported it, God this is so fucked up 😭

A fucked up game of chess, a really fucked up game of chess. 

God I’m imagining the fanfics on Ao3 after this audio.

Let’s just not become vampires. It seems so shitty. Like what fucking benefits are there. 

“Sometimes that involves killing, sometimes it doesn’t. I act in service of the House of Solaire and its interests, whatever form that takes.” Treasure. Treasure dearest. PLEASE RUN. 

LIKE DON’T GET ME WRONG, Porter is such an interesting character, I wanna pick his brain. BUT Treasure needs to BOOK IT.

Vincent.. I'm so sorry. Lovely give him a kiss and a hug. I’m imaging the audio after this, like the aftershock videos. 

I’m sorry the way he said moustache 😭 

Vincent.. VINCENT 💔 God someone don’t tell Sam too unless he knows somehow.

Thank you Porter, talk your sassy ass into his heart. 

“He loves you, Vincent. He loves you enough to not want you to get your hand dirty.” SHUT UP SHUT UP 

I’M GONNA START SOBBING 

“He knows he never should’ve turned you. You are his biggest regret.” I’m gonna throw myself off a cliff.

I’m done, I'm done, LIKE I KNEW THAT WAS HAPPENING ABOUT THE REGRET. BUT OH MY GOD DOES IT HURT LIKE A BITCH HEARING IT STRAIGHT UP.

“Play nice.” It’s giving the same energy as “Down Boy.” 

Porter.. PORTER NO 😭 god they all need therapy. All of them. 

His genuine care for Vincent, Porter, Sam, Alexis and Lovely. Questionable dad of the year check!! 

“I drove, obviously.” Porter. 😒

No actually we do have time for your past, you just made Vincent rethink his.

“That’s the story of Porter Solaire. Bad, Worse, Better.” Now is it going to be good or horrible? Again Treasure tread lightly. 

What happened Porter, What happened to you? 😕

JUMPED YOU??? Oh Porter dearest. Oh Porter.. 

NO PORTER.. PORTER. 😭

“Now that they were mine to command.” “Make the new life for myself i’ve always wanted-” Watch me scream, WATCH ME SCREAM. 

WAIT NO THE “he sees me as a friend and you as a child. HIS child” HURTS MORE. SO MUCH MORE. 

After all William did for Porter, and now Porter saw that Vincent was given everything and more but threw it away out of anger. He got mad, Because as Porter said multiple times, Vincent never felt what he felt. And to see Vincent be cared for more, even if Porter was willing to do anything for William. OH MY GOD 😭

Porter, Thank you. I’m glad you both are healing in a way.

[firstkanaphans]

hii! i'm a big fan of your fanfics, and as an aspiring writer myself, sometimes I feel sad 'cause I know and feel like I won't ever be as good as you are ☹️ I know I shouldn't compare myself, and I'm trying to get better at it, so I would genuinely like to ask, are there any tips you'd give to authors out there trying to improve? either their writing skills, plot ideas, planning and stuff. thank you, either way, love you! can't wait for your next work ❣️

So, the first thing I want to say is that I have been writing for a long time. I published my first fanfic when I was 12 years old and I’m 31 now, so I’ve been actively writing for the past 19 years (!!!) with almost no break. The way someone explained it to me once was to look at your years writing like levels in a video game. I’m currently at level 19. If you’ve been writing for ten years, you’re at level 10 and it’s certainly not fair to compare yourself to me because the only thing that’s truly going to make you a better writer is to write.

I’m assuming since you called yourself an “aspiring writer” that your eventual goal is publication, so I’ll gear my recommendations towards that. Fanfiction is a completely different animal, but a lot of these tips are applicable to both. The biggest difference is that there’s a lot more freedom in fanfiction. You can write what you want without worrying about three-act structures and you don’t have to invest any work in making people care about the characters because they already do. It is worth noting, however, that if you write, you’re already a writer. 

First, I highly recommend that you read “Save the Cat” by Blake Snyder. It changed my life and I’m not even kidding. It’s an absolutely fantastic book on writing and although it’s geared towards screenwriting instead of novels, everything is still applicable. (There’s actually a newer version called Save the Cat Writes a Novel, but I’ve never actually read that one so I don’t know if it’s as good.) He goes over how to plot a story and also how to write likable characters, which is surprisingly one of the hardest parts of writing original fiction.

The second biggest tip I can give you is to let yourself write badly. Editing is easier than writing. The most important thing is to get words down on the page. You would not believe how bad my first drafts are—and that’s not just me being coy. Honestly, the next time I sit down to write a fanfic, I might save my first draft for anyone who’s interested to read because my first drafts are always bad. Like legitimately. There’s a lot of freedom in letting yourself fail and your writing will turn out better for it.

I would also recommend getting a professional critique if you are able to because you’re never truly going to know what it is you need to improve upon unless someone tells you. Signing up for a writing retreat is a great way to do this or you can look for online critiquing services. I’ve gotten several chapter critiques from Scribbler in the past and I found them very helpful.

But truly, the most important thing is to just have fun. I heard Lin-Manuel Miranda talking about writing Hamilton once and he said that what he constantly kept asking himself was, “If no one else ever sees this, will writing it still have been worth it?” And for him, it was. That’s the kind of energy I try to write with. I write what I want when I want and if I find myself struggling to write a scene because it’s boring, I do something to make it not boring instead. Change things up! Have fun! Because otherwise, what’s the point?

About six years ago, a friend of mine said virtually the same thing you did in this ask: “I’ll never be as good as you.” She had been writing for less than a year at the time. We lost touch when I left fandom to pursue original fiction, but when I came back last year, I looked her up again. She has a Tumblr ficlet pinned at the top of her page with 10K+ notes. I could never.

So don’t count yourself out yet. Just keep writing.

[fruitcoops]

would you write something about Leo being insecure about his age/how he’s so young compared to the team & finnlo? I sure would love to read it!

Sure thing! If anyone knows whether the tiktok contact paper hack actually works, please let me know. Character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

“Harzy?”

“Yes, my Nutter Butter-iest darling?”

“Is it weird that you’re almost five years older than me?”

“In my opinion, no.”

“We were never in high school at the same time.”

“Nope.”

“Logan is only nine months younger than you.”

Cellophane crinkled as Finn set his book down; one ‘hack’ from Tiktok and eight hours later, every book in the apartment looked like it had been stolen from the local library. “He is,” Finn agreed. “Does it bug you?”

“Sometimes.” Finn’s shifting paused. Leo kept his eyes on his page, heart thudding in his chest. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. Why was it always so hard to find the right words when they talked about this?

“Not—it’s not things that you do,” he added when it became clear Finn was struggling for a response. “I’m happier with the two of you than I’ve ever been in my life. The gap doesn’t bother me because I know myself and I know you, but I do think about it and I wanted you to know.”

The corner of Finn’s mouth dipped; he rubbed an absent thumb over the thin leaf of contact paper protecting the embossed cover, then looked up with a quiet intensity in his eyes. “You’re a different person than you were in high school. I am, too. And I’m a different person than I was in college, for better and for worse.”

“Better and worse?”

His freckled nose scrunched slightly under the bridge of his glasses. His gaze dropped to his book, though Leo could tell he wasn’t reading a word. Finn did that, sometimes—the long pause to collect his thoughts. It was unbearably endearing.

“I’m more open, now,” he said at last. “I’m kinder. I’m smarter. I’m braver than I ever pretended to be back then.” He got that funny look on his face again, the one Leo had come to associate with ‘thinking about Harvard’, and not the fun parts. “But I’m also more cautious with my friends. I worry more. I’m not as daring.”

“You’re still daring,” Leo said softly. Finn looked up with a smile, then over to the freshly-organized bookshelves. They had spent hours on it, the pair of them. Finn’s calm attention guided Leo through the constant fear he was going to fuck up one of his boyfriend’s precious novels like a lighthouse in the storm.

NHL salary, baby, he had said when guilt over a misaligned corner overwhelmed Leo. Besides, you know how I feel about tiny bookstores.

He watched Finn’s chest rise and fall in a sigh. “I wish I had been less daring and more brave.”

“I think you were exactly what you needed to be.”

“I think I did the best I could with what I had.”

“I think—” Leo groaned as he hauled himself upright and dragged Finn, grinning now, over to lay across his chest. “—that you were being very brave, and very kind, and very smart while I was off getting my heart broken by a jock with stupid hair.”

“If it helps, I had pretty stupid hair in college,” a soft voice said. Leo raised his head and met Logan’s wry smile where he was leaning in the doorway. “In case you needed something to bond over.”

God, Leo was so glad they could joke about that, now. It still made him ache to think about the endless pining they put themselves through, but Logan and Finn had returned from their Cup run with a few essential cracks sealed up. He cracked a smile at Logan and caught a split-second wink. “How long have you been there?”

Logan half-shrugged. Long enough. “I know I said I didn’t want you at Harvard, but there are parts of it that would have been better with you. It would have been nice to have a study partner who could sit still for more than 30 seconds.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Finn scoffed through kisses to the bend of Leo’s neck.

Leo opened his arm and Logan complied immediately, taking full and shameless advantage of their new couch to squish Leo into the back of the couch without knocking Finn to the floor. A smacking kiss to the cheek made him laugh—Leo shifted until he was sandwiched between Finn’s solid warmth and Logan burrowing into the front of his tshirt.

When he closed his eyes, it was almost too easy to imagine. Finn, doing his reading while Leo distracted Logan from his fancy business classes. They could be in the library, or a shared dorm, or some secluded area of Harvard where nobody would bother them…

“C’est compliqué,” Logan sighed into the bend of Leo’s throat. “The funny thing for me is that I wouldn’t have felt like this if we met then.”

Leo paused. Logan had told him he loved him a thousand times, had said it silently even more. “…you wouldn’t?”

“You were, what, 15?” His expression was entirely unbothered when he looked up, teasing and playful. “Un bébé. And I was entirely stupid and repressed.”

“But it’s the same gap.”

“But it was different people.” Logan placed a kiss on the dip of his sternum without breaking eye contact. He cupped the side of Leo’s face in one palm, tracing his cheekbone with a soft smile. “You said it yourself. You were busy doing high school stuff. We would have had nothing in common. Now, we do.”

High school stuff, Leo thought as he ran a hand through Logan’s hair and let his head fall back against the armrest. As much as he hated to think about it, Logan was right—the NHL had given them a point of contact, something to build a foundation on. If they had met two, three, four years ago…well, Leo would have been just another moon-eyed high schooler hoping for his big break. He wouldn’t have the experience of getting his heart broken. He wouldn’t have the sense to understand why he should love them quietly in public and loud at home.

His younger self would never believe how happy he was now.

“I love you,” he said.

Logan’s lips twitched with a smile. You figured it out, it said. Leo couldn’t help his blush. “Je t’aime, aussi.”

Behind him, Finn shifted until his chin poked Leo’s shoulder. “Wait, did I miss something?”

“Just me putting puzzle pieces together, Harz,” Leo said without looking away from Logan. Pretty boy. Logan bit his lip and leaned up for a slow kiss that drew a sigh from the bottom of Leo’s lungs.

Logan’s hand settled on his collarbone, rubbing gently over it before he leaned back until just their foreheads touched. “This is hard to talk about for you, sometimes.”

It wasn’t a question. Leo nodded.

He could taste Logan’s smile in the next kiss. “Merci beaucoup, mon soleil.”

How could so much happen in 18 months? Leo wondered to himself as he relaxed into the couch cushions and let Logan rearrange him into prime snuggling position. A deep, happy sigh warmed his bicep when Finn settled down again; on days like this, when high school felt so close and the last two years blurred, he really couldn’t believe his luck.

Leo closed his eyes, one hand coming up to rest between Logan’s shoulder blades. Sheer dumb luck had brought them here. In an alternate universe, he would have been snapped up by a different team. He would have gone to college, himself. Or perhaps Logan and Finn would already be together, or still too afraid to do more than agonize over each other. Perhaps everything would go as it had, but none of them would have been brave enough to step up.

But luckily Finn had always been braver than he thought he was, and Logan had let his fire burn past the fear, and Leo had been right there to catch them both before they tipped over the edge. It had brought them to where they were now; he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[snowleopardcrk]

Characters involved:

Marzipan Cookie, Cream Cheese Cookie and Meringue Cookie - belongs to @minecraftninjerkid

Moonflower Cookie - belongs to me!

Clotted Cream Cookie and Pure Vanilla Cookie are canonical cookies.

——

Marzipan Cookie pushed open the door to the library and Cream Cheese Cookie quickly darted inside whilst holding onto her hat and book.

“Yeah, I’m glad you accepted to help me hunt down some books.” Her back was turned to the main library as she spoke to Marzipan. The two paused as Marzipan seemed to raise an eyebrow while staring at something or someone behind Cream Cheese.

Following the gaze of her little sister, Cream Cheese turned her head. A child stood by the library chalkboard, barely being able to reach to the middle of the chalkboard. They seemed to be writing down strings of calculations, probably pertaining to something..

“Ehm.. Who is that?” Cream Cheese adjusted her hat while staring a little dumb founded at how a child managed to enter the library seemingly undetected.

“That’s Moonflower, she’s… Been here a few times, I think.” Marzipan quickly interjected before Cream Cheese could call out to Moonflower.

Cream Cheese Cookie shot a confused glance at her younger sister as she continued.

“I think, she doesn’t TRY to bother anyone when she’s here. But can never really escape mom.” The two fell silent as they observed Moonflower keep on writing on the chalkboard as if they didn’t exist.

“Actually, Cream Cheese, you’re good with math since you make potions.. Could you tell me what she’s writing about?” Marzipan turned fully to her elder sister who glanced away in thought for a moment before looking back at her.

“Yeah, I’m trying to figure that out… To me, it seems like magic and how it affects time and another variable that I’m not familiar with.” She was hesitant as she answered.

There was a pause between the two as Moonflower turned around, her exhausted gaze slowly scanning the two.

“Hm..?” Her voice sounded raspy and seemingly done with life.

“What do you girls need..?” Moonflower quickly continued, though she didn’t seem to mind their presence.

“We’d like to know what you’re doing. Like, what kind of magic are you trying to calculate? That’s like, university professor levels of magical math.” Cream Cheese immediately began running her mouth, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

“…” Moonflower was taken back by the suddenness of Cream Cheese and pulled back slightly.

“You’re calculating some type of time magic with another variable that I’ve never seen! Nor can I tell what type of magic it is either.” She persisted, not being deterred by Moonflowers hesitance. Marzipan Cookie glanced at her elder sister for a moment before she turned fully to Moonflower.

“Pretty please tell us..!” Marzipan and Cream Cheese pleaded with Moonflower, their eyes almost sparkling like a young cake hounds pleading gaze.

“…! I-“ Moonflowers eyes widened for a moment as she sputtered, with a sigh she spoke up.

“Fine.. Sit down, we’re going to be here a while..” Moonflower sighed in defeat, her gaze falling to the floor. A moment later she peered up at the two who had taken a seat with papers and pens. She raised an eyebrow, pondering silently where on Earth Bread they got those supplies from.

“You’re correct, this has something to do with time magic.. The other variable is reality.” Her previous thoughts disappeared as she answered.

“Reality? I’ve never seen nor heard of that kind of variable before.” She was quickly scribbling down both what was on the chalkboard but of what Moonflower said too.

“Well, yeah.. Because I had to invent it myself…” She replied honestly, Cream Cheese’s pen stopped for a moment.

“You…What.” Marzipan raised an eyebrow, snapping out of her boredom slightly.

“Girls, did I stutter..?” Moonflower questioned, putting one of her hands on her hip.

“No..! How did you invent an entirely new variable to calculate reality? How would you define reality when it comes to magic?” Her eyes beamed immediately with even more curiosity, Marzipan shot a glance at Cream Cheese before looking back at Moonflower.

“Time and reality are interconnected, reality is like the fabric that keeps our perception of things like Marzipans sword.. Or your hat… If I were to mess with either items using reality bending magic, it would distort into something incomprehensible for average Cookies..” Moonflower kept on explaining with Cream Cheese furiously scribbling down every word.

“Wait, if you used your magic on my sword, it would turn into something that we cannot comprehend?” Marzipan leaned forward slightly.

“Pretty much..” She replied with a slight yawning.

“Can you show us an example of this phenomenon?” Cream Cheese perked up, Moonflower froze up for a moment her gaze switching between the two.

“Erm…Alright…” She replied after a moment with crossed arms, she snapped her fingers.

Seemingly random parts of her body suddenly dissolved into a constant moving mess of white squares, cubes and more with static between the cracks. Her icing seemed to move about randomly like it was windy. Yet her icing slowly turned from a light crème to a pitch black.

“What on Earthbread..! Are you okay?!” Both of them perked up, not expecting her to use herself as an example.

“Uh, yeah..? Exactly why you girls should never mess with reality nor time bending magic.. I am lucky, or unlucky to have the ability to ‘adjust’ myself to be able to use this kind of magic…” She began explaining. Moonflower snapped her fingers and she was back to normal, aside from her icing that was lagging behind.

There was silence between the three.

“How can you adjust yourself to be able to handle that kind of magic? Can you teach us?” Cream Cheese began questioning with anticipation.

“Are you crazy?!” Marzipan crossed her arms, seemingly a little confused about what just happened.

“Uh, no…It’s not magic and it cannot be taught…” Moonflower hesitantly explained.

“What makes you unique, then?” Cream Cheese raised an eyebrow.

Moonflower turned her back on the two after a moment of silence and remained silent.

The library door creaked open with a few voices chattering.

“I wonder if Cream Cheese can find the books she’s looking for, I’m fairly sure we have a copy.” Pure Vanilla explained as he was stepping through the door with Meringue Cookie and Clotted Cream Cookie right behind him.

All three came to a stop as they peered at the other three, including the silent Moonflower Cookie in front of the chalkboard.

“Hi everyone!” Cream Cheese greeted happily, Marzipan Cookie leaned back slightly and waved happily to the three as well.

“Well, this explains their absence.. Hello everyone.” Clotted Cream waved back.

“Moonflower Cookie? Why didn’t you stop by to say hi?” Meringue Cookie put one of her hands on her hip.

Moonflower slowly turned to the newcomers with a slightly confused grimace.

“I’m…Not social.” She spoke through her teeth and looked away.

Meringue Cookie covered her face slightly with one of her hands with a slight chuckle.

“You’re always welcome here.” She reassured, Clotted Cream and Pure Vanilla nodding along.

“She’s teaching us about how reality bending magic works! Even if we can’t use it..” Cream Cheese quickly chattered, with a slight disappointed sigh at the end.

“Reality bending magic..? I’ve never heard of that..” Pure Vanilla pondered out loud, Clotted Cream glanced away in thought for a moment before nodding in agreement.

“I would’ve preferred to kind of keep it that way, but whatever..” Moonflower leaned on the chalkboard as she spoke.

“I’m basically done here..” Moonflower continued, turning her head away.

“Aw, really? I wanna know more” Cream Cheese pleaded, Moonflower covered her face as Cream Cheese pleaded.

“Please..This is the second time you’ve puppy eyed me..” She mumbled while trying to hide her face.

Pure Vanilla and Clotted Cream couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. Meringue Cookie Cookie smiled slightly and sighed.

“Cream Cheese, I understand your curiosity but.. Moonflower has probably had enough for today.” Meringue explained softly, Moonflower Cookie shot a relieved glance at Meringue Cookie.

Silence befell the library, everyone not knowing what to do next.

“I suppose we’ll head out, it was nice talking for a bit.” Clotted Cream explained.

“I agree, it's always nice to have company from a familiar face.” Pure Vanilla chirped

Moonflower stared at the two for a moment before nodding in acknowledgement, the two began exiting the library, yet Meringue Cookie stayed.

“I’ll catch up! I just have a few questions.” Meringue hastily explained, Clotted Cream paused before nodding.

“Alright, we’ll see you in a few minutes.” Clotted Cream smiled softly, turning his head away and shutting the door behind him. Meringue stared at the door for a moment before turning back to Moonflower.

“Cream Cheese mentioned that you were explaining reality bending magic..” She paused.

“You’ve mentioned the white abyss before, is it the place beyond our known reality?” Meringue Cookie continued with a raised brow.

“…I mean, kind of..” Moonflower admitted quietly.

“There’s, a lot of layers behind the fabric wall..Just, it’s not…Good for any Cookie to be there for any extended period of time..” Moonflower hesitated to answer for a moment.

“I mean, that figures. Your other form didn’t look very… Stable.” Cream Cheese commented

“The, other form?” Meringue Cookie mumbled as she began pondering.

“It’s a by product, and it’s required to travel through…Unique parts of reality..” Moonflower continued after a moment.

“But, what ARE you even trying to calculate?” Marzipan Cookie spoke up after staying silent for most of the conversation. Moonflower paused and narrowed her gaze slightly.

“Why should I tell you three..? I believe I’ve answered everything that you guys should know..” Moonflower turned away with a frown, almost huffing defensively.

Marzipan was about to perk up with another question, but Meringue Cookie motioned for her to stay silent.

“We’ll respect that. You’re usually not this talkative, I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to be a bit more open.” Meringue Cookie explained before crossing her arms slightly. Moonflower looked back and forth at Meringue Cookie and the girls, she peered down at the floor.

“…Thanks. I’ll head out now.” Moonflower turned around and dissolved into a bunch of white squares, cubes and static before it vanished entirely.

——

Have an additional meme of Cream Cheese doing puppy dog eyes for information

[writeblrcafe]

Digital interview with @pinespittinink

Catherine Hellens orders a chai latte and sits down in the corner of Writeblrcafé. She writes poetry and a book. Her favourite genres include fantasy, fiction, science-fiction and speculative fiction. We start chatting about her writing.

What got you into writing?

Being exposed to really excellent authors as a child and realizing that writing stories was something I could do! I was filling notebooks and tapping out on my mom’s computer from such an early age. I’ve always had ideas inside me, and as a kid inspiration came to me very easily and frequently.

What inspires you to write?

I get inspired by visuals, music, nature, and dreams, predominantly. Also, reading other excellent writers’ books encourages me to keep going.

Which are recurring themes in your writing?

Oh boy—themes are actually something I never set out to write specifically, but they do crop up in my works. The biggest and most common one is devotion—specifically, how much will you do for love. I’m a romantic at heart, and nearly all of my works have a love story or a variant of one at the heart. Questions of identity also arise from time to time. Who we are, who we’re perceived to be, who we become. But they are always unique to the characters and never intended to be messages.

How would you describe your writing style?

Romantic. Prosey. Lush, as overused as that word is now. I’ve had it described as vivid and cinematic; I like to paint pictures and I love love love details. Setting is incredibly important to me and one of the first things I think of when I begin writing or conceiving ideas, so it has a large feature.

How do you deal with writer's block?

I just have to trudge through it, really. Even if when I sit down to write, I only write a few hundred words or fewer, it’s still something, and eventually I’ll create the groove again. Going on walks and mulling everything over also helps a lot.

Do you have a wip? Tell us about it:

My current wip is a queer standalone adult speculative fiction novel called The Great Glavenisean Theater. It’s about a man named Morgan who comes to the City of Spires and ends up working at the titular theatre as a seamster, where there is an interdimensional portal in the belly of the stage that moves the shows through multiple planes during the performances. But there are weirder things going on in the theatre, and as Morgan investigates them, he begins to suspect the prima donna Ariel of the attempted sabotages of the portal, and suspects that maybe they aren’t like the rest of them. I’m currently doing minor edits on the first draft and will be looking for betas during the month of April!

Tell us more interesting stuff about you:

I live in New England with my queer platonic partner, whose writing I love more than anyone else’s in the universe. We have two stupid rag doll kitties named Eurydice and Napoleon, and I collect crystals and special editions of certain books I love. I have patience with temperamental printers and put up tapestries across ceilings, and I’ll be building a sofa soon when it arrives. I’m also a classically trained mezzo-soprano who misses singing in a choir and contents myself with my car instead. Also, I’m a Capricorn.

Thank you for the good talk and keep writing!

Get interviewed by Writeblr Café!

Any writer can participate. Just fill in this form by clicking on the link below. Maybe we will host interviews in an audio format if you are more interested in listening to an interview than reading it.

[blackacre13]

hello! Could you write something where Lou and Deb go on a vacation to Australia, just some cute domestic fluff really, maybe a day at the beach and Deb finds out Lou can surf?

“Mrs. Miller?”

“Oh god, no, Debbie,” the blonde woman laughed, her eyes crinkling just the way that her daughter’s did, identical blue eyes twinkling. “No Miller anymore. You know that. And even if it was, Margot is fine. For now.”

“For now?” Debbie asked, shifting on her towel as she looked over at Margot, slightly confused.

“I’m sure my daughter has a plan up her sleeve that may have you calling me something else sooner than you know,” she smiled softly, tossing Debbie a wink. “But I’ll let you two figure that out in your own way and in your own time.”

“Speaking of that daughter, was she ever going to tell me…oh, I don’t know. That she could have been a career surfer if she stuck around Australia?”

“Did you even know that I existed before this week?” Margot asked, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. Another Lou-ism that had Debbie in awe.

“Now that was quite the surprise,” Debbie laughed, looking off at the water as Margot’s eyes followed her. “But I can never stay mad at her for long. Honestly, I can never even actually get mad at her.”

“You love her too much,” the older blonde spoke softly, her hand falling on top of Debbie’s. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. And I hope you know, that she only ever kept me secret to keep me safe. And you too. You know how it is in your line of…work. Once the wrong people have the right information to use against you.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Debbie whispered, looking down at the sand.

“I heard about your mum,” Margot whispered back, squeezing the brunette’s hand. “And I know it was your father’s work that put her on the line. I think—I think that’s why it was so hard for Lou to—“

“You don’t need to make excuses for her,” Debbie laughed, wiping at the rare tear that was threatening to creep out from the corner of her eye.

“Now, Debbie, just hear me out. You have no idea how hard it is for her to trust and to love because of her father and because she doesn’t like making herself vulnerable or putting others at risk or—“

“No, no,” Debbie laughed, shaking her head. “I know all that. That’s not it. It’s—if you can believe it, she’s not the stubborn one between the two of us. If it’s anyone who kept us from being together sooner than we could’ve, it’s definitely me, Margot. It is hard for Lou, but she’s amazing. Incredible. It’s me that needs a little coaxing to get the ball rolling. But this isn’t beach talk, right?” Debbie laughed, pushing Margot’s shoulder playfully. “And we got there eventually, right?”

“Do I see tears over here?” A deep voice called, a tall shadow coming over the two women on their towels as they both looked up with hands as visors over their eyes.

“Hi, hun.”

“Hey, baby.”

“My two best girls,” Lou grinned, laying practically on top of Debbie as the brunette squealed, cold water dripping onto her from Lou’s swimsuit. “Whatever are we talking about?”

“I am shocked that you would trust us enough to leave us alone to gossip about you,” Margot smirked. “So many questions and secrets I can find out about my daughter from her girlfriend.”

“And that is why I only lasted about seven minutes in the ocean before I asked myself what I was bloody thinking,” Lou laughed, squeezing Debbie tight.

Margot watched them as she watched the blonde press a gentle kiss to Debbie’s forehead, beaming at them.

“I don’t know why you would need to pester me for intel anyway,” Debbie grinned. “Lou’s an open book,” she cackled, not even able to get through the full attempt at a joke.

“I don’t like this dynamic,” Lou decided, trying to stand up as Debbie pulled her back down towards the sand. “Mum, nice seeing you. Debs and I are gonna head back to the states now and we’ll see you in a few decades for Christmas maybe?”

“Sit,” Debbie demanded.

Margot merely giggled. “You’re not taking Debbie away from me now. We have too much to catch up on. But I will agree, that right now Debbie shouldn’t be chatting with me and that you should be teaching her how to surf and maybe taking her for a romantic stroll along the water when the sun starts to set in a bit. Not safe to be in the water once the sun goes down anyway.”

“What are you, my mother?” Lou scoffed.

“I love this,” Debbie sighed dreamily.

“This is the worst surprise I’ve ever come up with,” Lou grumbled, but the blonde was beaming as she led Debbie towards the water a moment later, her smile only growing as she started to shriek, Debbie picking up speed to chase her before jumping onto her and attacking her face with salty kisses as Lou’s mother watched from the shore.