#it wishes to communicate and to be heard to to share knowledge and thoughts. yet it is also persistsnt and insistent to communicate the

[cent-scratchnsniff]

green apple flavor

[childofhypno]

just some thoughts from sherlock and co. Mailbag episode

honestly I did this to myself and at 3am no less.

In an mailbag episode on the sherlock and co. patreon, answering a question on their favorite musicals, John answered Les Misèrables. And being the romantic we know our loveable doctor to be, I was perusing the songs from the 2013 movie album and came across On My Own.

Sung by Èpoine about her unrequited love for Marius. And that is sad in its own regard, there's a reason it's one of the musicals most popular songs and Samantha Barks does a great job of that crushing emotional weight of being so wrapped in someone, so ultimately dazzled by them and wanting to be near them. But knowing they will not look at you the same, will not place the same value on the time and proximity you share. And that is not their fault and it is hard to love someone and desire to be close and yet have them be the source of your greatest pain and rejection, even though they may wish you no harm.

It's been hinted at and out right stated (by Sherlock) that John wants to be liked. And given what we've heard about John's last relationship (the one whereby he gained ownership of Archie after the split) and perhaps some insecurities there, insecurities in his own capabilities, comparing himself to others, its understandable to read John as something of an insecure man. Not in a toxic manner but John definitely has a lot of self doubts about himself and his place in the world and what he can offer to others. Despite him so naturally being able to attune to people and their needs and being quite bloody smart and intuitive. All round just a decent person.

And John, as much as anyone, marvels at Sherlock Holmes. This almost mythical figure. John admires Sherlock and maybe envies him on some level. I think not in Sherlock's deduction skills or specific knowledge skillsets but maybe in Sherlock's apparent surety in himself and where he is in life and what he wants from it. Sherlock is plainly himself, even if it means not "fitting in " John often tries to mould himself to what others might like, and hey, as a people pleaser, oh boy do I understand that. Almost becomes like muscle memory.

Sherlock in turn, I think admires John's social prowess. His ability to express the complexity of emotions. Just because someone doesn't emote the typical way doesn't mean they don't feel the emotions. And that can be incredibly frustrating when you want to communicate with others. Sherlock cares about people. He's interested in people. And he can't always express or connect with them in the way he wants. Like a language barrier he mentioned in another mailbag episode. That is why Sherlock and John work. They draw out in each other and supplement for the qualities they lack or yearn to have more of. They're a balancing act. A good one. And I'm not the first to point that out.

All this to say, imagine when that act is separated. The Fall. Grown so comfortable to have the other's support, always by each others side and then, suddenly the other person isn't there. And you have to remember how you functioned without them before. But you can't go back. You're not the same person you were. But if they aren't there to remind you, to encourage you, it's easy to fall back into old habits.

And so the song. On My Own. From John's perspective, watching the man the myth the dazzling legend that is Sherlock Holmes, getting swept up in the adventures, feeling totally out of place but thrilled be along for the ride, participating, maybe growing in confidence all because of coincidental flat share with possibly the most brilliant and bizzare man he's ever met. The world is changing for John Watson. And Sherlock is seemingly at the center of it all. He's found purpose. Friends. A home. Maybe more. But John is as fallible in his assumptions as any of us are. And Sherlock appears to have no interest in such relationships and John, not confident enough to make the first move. So he can daydream. Of what it would be like to be with Sherlock. And what it would be like be without Sherlock.

And then the Fall. And he truly is without Sherlock and his world has dulled and greyed and blurred. The city has lost its glimmer. The flat is quiet. The words are meaningless. And John sits with his what ifs.

Don't think of John hearing this song. Of the heartbreak of knowing that you can ever be with the one you love. And knowing that taste of what brilliant technicolours the world is when you were with them, full of stimulating twinkling lights. And thinking it could never be that way again. Don't imagine John, sat in the flat, in the achingly quiet flat, as a woman sings for her never was love, head in his hands, Archie resting his head on John's knee. Don't think of John cursing himself for not being sure enough to tell Sherlock how he felt, for not being good enough again to save his friend. Don't think of John Watson, once again, on his own.

[bluegekk0]

Regarding the most recent ask, it was mentioned that grimm helped set up several town events

I’d like to know what kind of events, holidays, meetings or ceremonies would be held in dirtmouth?

Like Would the town regularly have hall meetings addressing the current status of things for example?

Most of those events have to do with holidays, and those are usually connected to seasons. I intend for there to be two seasons throughout the year: winter and summer (with possible unique names that I haven't thought of yet). The year begins once winter changes to summer, and that calls for new year celebration, where the bugs reminisce on the year that just passed, and wish for the following year to be prosperous. Similarly, when summer changes to winter, another holiday happens. I really like the idea of calling their winter something along the lines of "long night" since that's the period where the sun appears very briefly throughout the day, if at all. Perhaps some kind of celebration similar in spirits to our Halloween would also happen. And of course, a holiday related to the end of the infection is a must, the bugs would undoubtedly celebrate every anniversary of the day it vanished.

Grimm helps with organizing those since he has a lot of experience with attending such events, and a lot of knowledge and ideas on ways to make them mode interesting and engaging for the community. He undoubtedly introduced some traditions previously unknown to the Hallownest bugs, and of course, he has a Troupe which are masters at performing (and have a music crew, an essential part of any celebration)

For more exact details on the seasons and holidays, I'm planning to add holidays as an article on the lore page, so I'd love to share more then.

As for meetings, I definitely think those happen periodically. There isn't a specific leader in Dirtmouth, but I do think they appoint an elder who's in charge of those meetings. Elderbug would fit the role well, I think, he's very respected and is one of the oldest inhabitants of Dirtmouth. The meetings would most likely take form of discussions about the development of the town, latest news and events, organization of holidays, any kinds of weddings or similar celebrations, and so on. Anyone can attend the meetings, and those who hold a valuable role in the community (such as the farmers and hunters who ensure a consistent food supply, Vyrm who's responsible for renovations, and so on) are especially welcome to attend and voice their mind. If there is an important matter that needs to be decided, then a vote is held, and the elder's main role is to count all the votes and then announce the results. Dirtmouth is a very small town, so I do think that every inhabitant's opinion would be valued. The town was built on the community and its group efforts, the bugs all cooperate and support one another, so maintaining this dynamic is at the top of the priority list if Dirtmouth is to prosper. And for that to happen, voices need go be heard.

The meetings would be held in the longhouse, a large building located at the center of the town. That is also where all celebrations are being held, so it's very big, with extra storage rooms and a kitchen connected to it, a fireplace, barrels for wine and mead, a large table waiting to be set up, and even a small scene for the Grimmkin crew to perform and play music, and so on. Visually it would resemble a Viking longhouse (since that kind of style is a big inspiration for the AU version of Dirtmouth) with some of the Hollow Knight aesthetic introduced, naturally. I'll definitely draw at least the outside once I get to remaking the map/panoramic view of the town.

[hannahssimblr]

For Simblr Gratitude Day!

This year, 2023 has been a really really amazing year for me creatively. I wrote over 270K words, I started and finished both parts 2 and 3 of Lucky Girl and I started Lucky Boy! When I began writing last year I really didn't see myself at this point, having written so much, having improved so much, and most importantly, having falling completely head over heels for this amazing community

Without the support and amazing feedback from so many people I would have quit a long time ago, but coming here and talking to you guys and being so incredibly inspired by other work is what really pushed me past the finish line. I want to express my gratitude for every single person who engaged with me this year, for those who liked and commented and shared and left me questions and anon asks, and even those who didn't, and just read along in silence - I see you there! You can't hide! Thank you so much.

This graph only shows my top 10, but I reached over 50 countries this year! that's pure mad.

You can see that it's the Americans and the British who really came through for me, and I'm sorry for poking gentle fun at you in my story - I know you are more than semi-automatic machine guns, UFOs & undesirable tourists, you know how it is, we're like the ignored middle child between you two and I'd be going against my cultural heritage if I didn't act up a little bit.

Most importantly I want to thank specific people today! Starting with @armoricaroyalty for making this day happen, and @daniigh0ul for coming up with the idea. I'm really excited to get to know you both much better in the new year & finally find the time to start reading your stuff - I've heard only good things.

to @sirianasims for poking me to join the writers group that has now absolutely swallowed up my free time (in a good way lmao) and for being hilarious and fun and just generally a gorgeous, open and supportive person. I've been reading Siri's story lately and I INSIST you check it out - I'm on gen 3 and completely obsessed by the thought that goes into this, the complexity of the relationships and really sensitive exploration of difficult material.

to @lynzishell for always being so positive and engaged, always taking the time to leave thoughtful comments and get genuinely excited over everyone's work! I'm DUG INTO her legacy, which is still on gen 1 and it makes my day better every single time I see an update from her - and I'm not even just saying that to be nice. It's an honest to god thrill for me to get to read about her characters. I'm beyond excited for what she's going to do in the new year

@mannylikessims deserves a shout out too for writing some of the best and funniest simlit I've had the pleasure of reading in a long time. Those Villarreal kids (and Jacques, obviously) have me on the edge of my seat. I feel insatiable for this story, like, give me more, all of the time. Just shovel it into my mouth. Manny has also brought me to literal tears with her comments. It's rare enough that you meet a reader that seems to truly understand what you're trying to say in your work - like, right to the heart of it, and Manny is one of those people.

I've just recently started reading @rebouks Somnium and Forever In Between (Don't do what I did if you haven't read yet - start with Somnium) and when I say I am HOOKED I mean it. The visuals alone are enough to make me want to burst into tears with the knowledge that I will never wrangle something so beautiful from the game, but you know what, that's okay, because I can come here and sob over Becca's work instead. I'm not even halfway through and I'm already bowled over by the character development, the dialogue, the humour, everything. The only thing I wish is that I had unlimited free time and 0 commitments so I could absolutely consume this work in one sitting, but I guess savoring it is good too.. Thank you Becca for pure inspiration <3

@pixelnrd for The Langston Legacy, a decades challenge which was actually the first sims 4 legacy I ever read - I stumbled across it on my very first day on simblr and I've loved loved loved it every since. The visuals are gorgeous, the story lines are always engaging, and just about every topic under the sun has been covered now. The dedication to accuracy is really admirable, and now that we've reached the 80s I'm genuinely beginning to feel nostalgic. I always find myself wanting more. I'm so much looking forward to the 90s! (And I can't believe you've made it this far, that's an achievement and a half)

Other storytellers and creators I want to shout out are @simstrashkingdom, @bakersimmer @simmysunset @igglemouse @simsstuph - You guys have created some really great stories this year, and I so long forward to reading more!

To @nexility-sims for creating our wonderful writing group (and for pairing with me) I'm dying to start reading your work properly, because even the small bits I've read have been so beautiful.

And to everyone else in the writing group! I know I have so many stories to catch up on, and I'm very intimidated by that fact, but I know that it means that 2024 holds a lot of exciting times! I want to learn from you all and be inspired and support you, so this is the year I'm going to do it <3

[thoughtful-ink]

The Whispering Grove

small story i wrote whilst procrastinating on my WIP <3

In the kingdom of Eldenmere, where the rivers whispered secrets to the mountains and the winds carried tales across the valleys, there was a legend. A tale that mothers would whisper to their children before bed, and scholars would seek for their entire lives. The legend spoke of a hidden grove, a place where time itself seemed to pause, and the trees could speak.

For generations, the kingdom had forgotten about it. The elders had told their stories as cautionary tales, warning against the dangers of seeking what the earth was not meant to give. Yet, as with all legends, there were those who dared to defy the old warnings, and one such person was Soren.

Soren had always been different. While the children of Eldenmere played in the sunlit meadows, Soren was drawn to the deep forests that lay just beyond the village, to the shaded thickets where only the bravest dared venture. From the moment he first heard of the Whispering Grove, it had haunted his thoughts.

The grove was said to be protected by the spirits of the forest, and it was rumored that whoever found it would be granted a single wish, a wish so powerful that it could change the fate of the entire kingdom. But with that wish came a price. The price was not known to any who had ventured into the grove and returned. No one had returned.

But that did not stop Soren.

One evening, just before the first frost of winter set in, Soren found himself standing at the edge of the forest. The village behind him had long since gone to bed, and the moon hung high, a silver orb in the star-studded sky. His breath misted in the cold air, and his heart beat loudly in his chest. The trees before him seemed to sway slightly in the wind, their boughs creaking like old bones. They looked... inviting.

He had prepared for this night for months, gathering supplies and practicing the ancient incantations his grandmother had taught him before she passed. Her stories of the old world had always carried a sense of magic, but it wasn’t until she died that Soren began to believe in them.

"Seek the grove," she had whispered on her deathbed. "Find the grove, child, and ask for what you need."

At first, he thought it was simply the ramblings of an old woman. But the more he thought about it, the more the legend seemed to pulse in his chest, like a heartbeat, steady and strong. He knew that he couldn’t turn back now.

Taking a deep breath, Soren stepped into the forest.

The air shifted the moment he crossed the threshold. The wind stopped, and the world seemed to grow still, as if the very forest was holding its breath. The path ahead of him was lit only by the pale light of the moon, casting long shadows that danced like specters among the trees. He walked in silence, listening to the faint rustling of leaves overhead, the crackle of twigs beneath his boots, but most of all, he listened for the whisper of the trees.

The stories had said that the trees in the Whispering Grove did not speak like ordinary trees. They could communicate, share knowledge, and even answer questions. But the voices were quiet and ethereal, like the wind itself—always present but never fully tangible. The grove would choose who could hear them. And the grove chose few.

Hours passed as Soren ventured deeper into the forest, the world around him growing darker and colder. The trees grew denser, their trunks thick and twisted, their branches curling into each other like gnarled hands reaching out to pull him deeper into the shadows.

Suddenly, Soren stopped. There was something different about the air now, a subtle shift in the atmosphere. He could feel it, like an unseen force pressing against his chest. It wasn’t fear—at least, not entirely. It was as if something was waiting for him.

In the distance, he saw it: a clearing, bathed in an eerie light. The trees there were enormous, their trunks silver and their leaves glowing faintly in the moonlight. At the center of the clearing stood a lone tree, its roots sprawling outward like a great web. The trunk of the tree was twisted in impossible angles, covered in pale moss that shimmered as if alive. This was the Whispering Grove. Soren had found it.

His heart raced. He took a step forward, then another, and as he entered the clearing, he felt a strange pressure on his mind, as if the air itself was alive with intent. He could hear whispers—soft, distant voices that tugged at the edges of his consciousness. They seemed to beckon him closer, urging him to come, to seek what he needed.

Soren approached the great tree in the center of the grove. It towered above him, its bark smooth and silver, and its branches arched in graceful curves. The whispers grew louder, more distinct, as if the very air around him was singing a song just for him.

He knelt at the base of the tree, reaching out to touch the cool bark. As soon as his fingers made contact, a surge of energy coursed through him, like a current of electricity. His eyes fluttered closed, and the whispers coalesced into a single voice.

"What is it that you seek?"

Soren’s breath caught in his throat. The voice was neither male nor female, but something older, deeper. It seemed to come from everywhere at once—echoing through the ground, the air, and even his own mind.

"I seek power," Soren whispered, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to remain steady. "I wish to save my village. To protect it from the darkness that is coming."

The voice was silent for a long moment, and in that silence, Soren felt a sense of doubt creeping into his mind. Was this really the right choice? Was this the price he was willing to pay?

But before he could second-guess himself, the voice returned, softer this time, almost compassionate.

"The power you seek is great, but it comes with a burden. Are you willing to bear it?"

Soren’s heart hammered in his chest. The weight of the question hung in the air, heavy and cold. He could feel it—the gravity of the decision. This was no simple wish. It was an exchange, a pact with forces beyond his understanding.

But Soren didn’t hesitate. He nodded, his resolve firm.

"I am willing," he said, his voice steady now. "I will do whatever it takes."

There was a long pause, and then the tree seemed to pulse, as if acknowledging his decision. The ground beneath him trembled slightly, and the air grew colder. For a brief moment, Soren felt a surge of power, of energy that flowed through him like a river.

"So it shall be," the voice intoned, and then the whispering stopped.

Soren stood slowly, his hands trembling with the lingering aftershocks of the grove’s magic. The air seemed to settle, the oppressive weight lifting from his shoulders. But as he looked around, he realized something had changed. The grove had shifted somehow, and the moonlight that had once illuminated the clearing now seemed dim, as if the stars themselves had dimmed in response to the bargain he had made.

Before he could process what had happened, the voice returned, but this time, it was different—darker.

"Remember this, Soren. The power you have gained will not be free of cost. The darkness you sought to protect your village from... it is already upon you."

Soren’s heart stopped. He looked around wildly, but the grove was silent again, as if nothing had occurred. The wind had stopped, and the whispers were gone.

But as he left the clearing, a new thought settled into his chest. The darkness had always been closer than he had realized, and now, with the power he had sought, he was bound to it in ways he couldn’t yet understand.

The journey back from the grove was slow. Soren walked through the forest, the weight of what had happened pressing down on him with every step. He had never imagined the feeling of power could be so... empty. When he had first set out for the Whispering Grove, he had envisioned a sense of triumph—of strength, of control. But as the moonlight began to fade and the trees around him grew thicker, darker, that feeling seemed to slip away, leaving only a quiet unease.

His thoughts raced, trying to piece together the fragmented words of the voice that had spoken to him. The power he had gained, the protection he had sought for Eldenmere—it all came at a cost. That much was clear. But what exactly would he have to pay? The voice had never been explicit, only that the darkness was already upon him.

The thought made his heart race. He couldn’t help but glance nervously over his shoulder, half-expecting some unseen force to emerge from the trees and claim him for the bargain he had made. But the forest was still, too still, as if it too was holding its breath.

By the time he reached the edge of the woods, the first light of dawn was creeping across the sky. He didn’t remember how long he had been walking—only that the world felt different, like a fog had descended over everything, obscuring his clarity.

Soren stepped back into the village, greeted by the familiar sight of the stone houses and the bustle of daily life. The streets were empty at this hour, the market stalls still closed. But in the distance, he could see his parents’ house. He hesitated for a moment, the sight of it filling him with a strange sense of dread. He had made a promise to himself that his wish was to protect them, but now that the power was in his hands, he wasn’t sure how to wield it.

As he neared the house, a distant scream echoed through the village—a woman’s cry, full of terror. Soren’s heart skipped a beat. The sound came from the direction of the forest. Without thinking, he ran.

When he reached the edge of the village, he saw them. A group of villagers, gathered in a panic near the boundary of the forest. At first, Soren didn’t know what they were looking at, but then he saw the smoke rising in the distance. Black, acrid smoke that twisted into the sky like a serpent, darkening the air.

"Soren!" his mother’s voice rang out, full of worry. She ran to him, gripping his arm with desperate hands. "There’s something in the woods... something unnatural."

His mind raced. The darkness... was this what the grove had warned him about? Had his wish set this in motion?

He swallowed hard, forcing the fear down. "I’ll go," he said, his voice firmer than he felt. "Stay here. I’ll find out what’s happening."

His mother’s grip tightened, but she didn’t argue. "Be careful, Soren. Don’t—"

But Soren was already running toward the smoke, his thoughts a jumble of panic and disbelief. The grove had given him power. He had asked for it, but had never imagined it would bring something so terrible in its wake.

As he ran toward the source of the fire, the ground beneath his feet began to tremble, and the trees seemed to sway unnaturally. They didn’t move in the wind—they bent, as though alive, as though they were watching him. He could feel their eyes, the weight of their ancient gaze, pressing in on him from every direction.

And then he saw it.

A creature emerged from the smoke, its form towering over the trees. It was like nothing he had ever seen before—its body a shifting mass of shadow and flame, its eyes glowing an eerie yellow. It stepped forward, the ground cracking beneath its feet as it moved, a low growl emanating from deep within its chest.

Soren froze, his heart hammering in his chest. This... this was the darkness. The thing that had been called forth. He had brought it into existence.

The creature turned its head, its glowing eyes locking onto Soren. In that moment, he knew the truth. The wish he had made to protect the village hadn’t granted him the power to shield it from danger. No, it had opened a doorway—a portal—allowing something far darker to step into the world.

He had set the wheels of disaster into motion. And now, he had to stop it.

Soren’s mind raced. The creature stood before him, its shadow stretching far across the village, its presence suffocating. He had no idea what it was—only that it wasn’t natural, and it was far too powerful for him to defeat on his own. His heart pounded in his chest, but his mind was still, focused. He had been warned, but there was no turning back now.

"Come," the creature rumbled in a voice that seemed to shake the very ground beneath him. "Come and face the price you have paid."

It was mocking him. It knew what he had done. And it knew he was powerless to stop it.

Soren took a step back, then another. His hands were trembling, but he fought to steady his breathing. His thoughts spun in circles, seeking a solution, but every answer felt wrong, incomplete. He had no weapons. No allies. No time.

The creature took another step toward him, its fiery form shifting like smoke in the wind. The ground crackled with each footfall, the very earth buckling under its weight.

But then, something changed. A sound—soft, almost imperceptible—began to echo in the air. At first, Soren thought it was just the wind, but as the sound grew louder, he realized it was a voice. A voice that was familiar.

“You have made a terrible mistake.”

The voice was the same one that had spoken to him in the grove, the same voice that had warned him of the cost. The voice of the tree, the spirit of the forest.

“Who...?” Soren’s voice faltered, confusion and desperation in his tone.

The creature paused. It tilted its head, as if considering something. The air around it shimmered, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow, the creature’s movements becoming almost hypnotic. Soren could feel its eyes on him, could feel the weight of its presence growing heavier by the second.

“The price is not paid in full,” the voice echoed, growing louder and more commanding. “You have opened a doorway, but you have not sealed it. The darkness you have summoned... it will not rest until it claims everything you hold dear.”

The voice was coming from everywhere and nowhere, swirling around him like the wind itself. He felt the earth tremble again, and then, for the first time since he had made his wish, Soren felt something—something deep inside him—shift.

A surge of power, unfamiliar and wild, coursed through him. It was the magic of the grove, the power he had bargained for. He hadn’t realized it would come like this—untamed, uncontrollable. But now that it was within him, it felt like an ocean crashing against the shore, relentless and vast.

He raised his hand, not knowing what would happen. The creature’s eyes glowed brighter as it lunged forward. The world around him seemed to freeze.

Then, with a force he hadn’t intended, Soren spoke—a single word, sharp and commanding, filled with all the power the grove had granted him.

“Stop.”

The creature halted mid-step, its body trembling with the raw energy that surged through the air. The ground beneath it cracked, and the earth seemed to recoil, pushing the creature back, forcing it to take a step away from Soren.

But it was not gone. It would not be so easily defeated.

The wind picked up, howling through the trees, and Soren felt the presence of the grove around him—the spirits of the forest watching, waiting, judging. He could sense their displeasure, their anger. They had given him power, but they had not given him control. And now, that same power was slipping beyond his grasp.

The cost of his wish had only just begun.

The creature hovered before him, its massive form looming over the land like a shadow that could swallow the sun itself. The air crackled with energy, thick and suffocating, as the raw power of the forest's magic surged through Soren’s veins.

He had never felt anything like it. The power was no longer just a tool—it was a force that controlled him. The trees, the spirits, the very earth beneath him seemed to hold their breath as Soren stood frozen in the clearing. He could feel their eyes upon him, their ancient gaze weighing heavily on his every movement.

He raised his hand again, trembling, as if to push the creature back further. His fingers clenched into a fist, and a wave of energy pulsed outward, rippling the air in front of him. For a brief moment, the creature flinched, its glowing eyes narrowing as if it were assessing the strength of Soren’s power.

But then, it snarled, a low, guttural growl that sent a wave of dread through Soren’s chest. The ground beneath his feet trembled once more as the creature stepped forward, its form flickering in and out of shadow and flame.

“You cannot control what you do not understand,” the creature’s voice boomed, an echo of ancient anger. “The darkness you have called upon will never be contained.”

Soren’s breath caught in his throat. He knew the truth now. His wish had not granted him the power to protect Eldenmere. It had opened the door to something far darker. And that darkness was unraveling everything he had known.

He felt his knees buckle, the weight of the magic pulling him down. The energy inside him was growing unstable, coursing through him like wildfire. He clenched his fists harder, trying to hold onto it, trying to keep the power from consuming him. But it was too much.

With a cry of frustration, Soren released the power, sending out a shockwave that shook the forest to its core. The trees groaned, their branches shaking as the very air trembled with the force. The creature hissed, recoiling, but it did not retreat. Instead, it seemed to draw strength from the chaos that Soren had unleashed.

“This is your doing,” the creature spat, its voice dripping with venom. “You have invited this darkness, and now it will consume you.”

The world around him spun. Soren's mind was on fire, and in the chaos, he could no longer tell where his will ended and the magic began. He was losing control.

But just as he thought he would be consumed by the creature, a sudden cry rang out from behind him—a voice full of desperation.

“Soren! Soren, stop!”

It was his mother.

Soren turned quickly, his heart racing in his chest. Through the smoke and shadows, his mother emerged, her face pale but determined. She was running toward him, her eyes wide with fear.

“Soren!” she cried again, her voice breaking as she stumbled closer. “You have to stop. This... this isn’t you. This power, it’s not you!”

Soren’s head spun as her words reached him. The creature loomed behind him, its dark form pulsing with malevolent energy. The pressure in his chest, the storm of magic swirling inside him, made it hard to think. But his mother’s voice—her presence—was like a beacon cutting through the haze of his mind.

He staggered backward, the grip on his power faltering as he looked into her eyes. Her gaze was filled with pain, but also with love and concern. She didn’t want him to become something else, something controlled by the magic he had summoned.

The creature behind him seemed to sense the shift. Its glowing eyes flickered, and it took a menacing step forward.

“You cannot stop it,” the creature growled. “You cannot stop me.”

But Soren’s breath came slower now, his heart steadying as he focused on his mother’s words. She was right. This power, this darkness, wasn’t a part of who he was. It was something he had chosen, and now he could choose to let it go.

Soren closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The forest seemed to hold its breath with him, the air still and silent.

The magic that had surged through him was wild, untamed, but it was also his to control. He had not come this far just to be consumed by it.

With a single, resolute breath, Soren opened his eyes. And then, with all his strength, he let go.

The world seemed to hold its breath for a moment. The creature snarled, the shadows around it writhing like smoke, but it was no longer the same. The raw, untamed energy that had once radiated from Soren began to dissipate, swirling back into the earth, into the air, and into the forest. The magic, once a wildfire, began to calm, like a storm losing its fury.

For a brief, precious moment, the creature paused, as if it were confused by Soren’s sudden shift in power. It looked at him with something akin to surprise, as if it hadn't expected him to relinquish the magic.

But Soren was not the boy who had sought power in desperation. He was the son of Eldenmere, the one who had been raised with love and care, the one who had never needed to be more than himself. And in that moment, he understood.

“I will not be your puppet,” Soren said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion settling in his bones. “I am no one’s tool.”

The creature screeched in anger, its form distorting, flickering between shadow and flame. It lunged, its monstrous shape barreling toward him.

But as it neared, a forceful wave of light erupted from the trees around him. The spirits of the forest, the guardians of the Whispering Grove, had heard his plea, and they had answered. The light engulfed the creature, pushing it back with a power far greater than Soren had ever known.

The creature screeched one last time, but its form began to dissolve, the darkness evaporating like smoke in the wind. The air grew lighter, and the trembling earth stilled.

Soren collapsed to his knees, exhausted. His body ached with the aftermath of the battle—both physical and magical. His mother rushed to his side, her arms trembling as she helped him stand.

“You did it,” she whispered, her voice thick with relief. “You stopped it.”

But Soren’s eyes were distant, and his heart was heavy with the knowledge of what he had sacrificed. The power he had sought had come with a price, and though the village was safe, the cost was not without consequence. He had been granted the magic of the grove, but it had nearly consumed him. It had shown him that power, even for good intentions, could always turn against its wielder.

As the sun rose over Eldenmere, the village breathed a collective sigh of relief. The darkness was gone, and the trees in the forest no longer felt like they were watching Soren. But he knew that the journey was far from over.

The power he had sought was not something he could ever forget. The grove’s magic had left a mark on him—a lesson, a scar—that would stay with him for the rest of his life. And though the darkness had been driven away, Soren knew that true power came not from control, but from understanding the balance between light and shadow.

With that knowledge, he rose to his feet, ready to face whatever came next, knowing that the cost of freedom was always greater than the power to change the world.

EPILOGUE

Years passed, and Eldenmere flourished under the gentle guidance of Soren, who became known as the protector of the village. Though he had once sought the power to save them, he had learned that true strength lay not in wielding magic, but in the heart and choices of the people who lived within the kingdom.

And as Soren walked through the forest once more, the ancient trees whispered to him again—not with fear, but with understanding.

For Soren had learned that in every story, in every legend, there was a price—and a lesson waiting to be discovered.

And the Whispering Grove, silent but ever present, continued to guard its secrets.

[atmymercy]

hello!

yes, i sincerely hope we both get to go on romantic candlelit dinners with our partners soon.

right, for a moment i thought i was feeling what they were going through as well, i hope they know they're not alone in all of this even if we haven't met yet. the king of swords made me feel so relieved that they're letting go of things that no longer serve them!

your reviews are a huge testament to your skills! i'm so grateful you've decided to share your gift to the world. you're such an amazing reader and i wish you the best in booking clients!

thank you so much for pulling that card and shedding more light on their situation. the last bit made me smile. <3

hello lilies!

hopefully in a fun location too! yep! i think we both deserve it! lol

i bet that really helped them more than you could know, honey! we're all connected in the 5D so sometimes just having someone you love and care about understand you can mean more than anything else you could need! aww! which is so beautiful so i'm glad you two could give that to each other! eee! i'm getting tickles along my shoulders in glee! omg! and i heard a giggle! like 'hehe!' so sounds like they're finding the joy in it again!

aww! i'm so glad you think so! because i know i do! my reviews are like me being the guide at a museum of my readings and i get to show you around and share a piece of my life and my life's work! aww! it's so romantic when you think about it! i love them so so much! oh gosh! i'm going to cry! lol "don't mind me and my tears as we enter my rembrandt stage in the next room!" lolol oh spirit, we're going to need tissue boxes in here! lol aww thank you, honey! i'm so grateful too! but it is also my pleasure to offer to share my gift with you because it means the world that you guys care and interact! i feel so connected to humanity and community when i get to read for you all. it helps me connect with my ancestors and spirit guides so much by learning from all of yours as well!

i can't help but feel like it's learning, wisdom, knowledge, intuition and love all being combined to create a beautiful moment of connection where two souls can feel understood and cared for. to get to be apart of your journey is so special and unique. it just makes me feel so fucking blessed! lol excuse my language! lolol love you, spirit! and i'm so glad i could make you smile, honey! it makes my tears one of joy! yay!

love & light!

-tea

♡ message me for details/questions & to book a reading! ♡

[ijutirawan]

Learning From the East

Oh, my land of Mambefor… A half-filled glass of life’s lessons you’ve poured into my journey, oh land of the Bird of Paradise. You’ve taught me so much about the meaning of this life. You’ve opened my eyes. You’ve opened my heart. You’ve opened my mind. You’ve revealed what I never knew before, A life I never imagined could teach and nourish me in your embrace, my Papua.

God leads destiny, Bringing me to learn more than most. The universe carries experience to the East, A land never once in my thoughts. Now, there are some, though not all, Stories I wish to share.

It is not like the stereotypes I often heard: Backward, stubborn, or even worse words. Living together every day, one house, one bed, Interacting daily, understanding grows.

Some places are far from adequate facilities, The heat, the rugged terrain, It is reason enough.

Not knowing technology does not mean being backward. A firm character does not mean being stubborn. Everything has a reason. Once you get to know them, You will understand many things. How swift their initiative is when facing challenges, Like vocational school students who already know how to apply their knowledge.

When understanding comes, It’s moving to see How kind and gentle their hearts are. Especially when the words, “Let’s eat together,” are spoken. That’s it, that becomes your blessing in the form of a familial bond.

Even family ties are not bound solely by blood. Once trust is built, it’s as if their whole life is for you. There’s no pretend or mere formalities in offering something. If they have it, they’ll offer it, and you’ll share it, if it’s food, you’ll eat together.

Honest words often follow, About one’s flaws, About actions sometimes done in error. “Brother, don’t do that, okay? If there’s a problem, say it, don’t just stay silent and avoid it.” Communication is indeed important.

This story has no end, Just like their kindness and sincerity. If one seeks to understand and learn, Both sides will come to know each other. Sometimes, negativity arises only because of hearsay, “they say, they say.” Yet, behind those words lies warmth and beauty.

I learn from the East, From the land of Mambefor, the Bird of Paradise.

[storiesfromcordetres]

How it all began? This is the story of

The Creation of the universe

Before the nine worlds, there was only one, and there it all began.

The Magic, or the Nature, or the World Tree, or universe, however you wish to call it, began as a little seed.

And that seed grew to a sprout, and then to a sapling, and then to a full tree. And there started the universe.

The power that began, created the people. They had eight limbs and they were The Firsts.

Since nothing lasts forever, and we can never be all as one, The Firsts started to argue. Some believed that the Magic itself was the Creator, the God of the World. Some thought that the First Tree was the one who created everything, including the Magic.

This led the people to form two groups. The first group chose to be called angelos, the chosen ones. And they didn't want to share the World with those who believed wrong. So they cast the others out, and started calling them The Forgotten.

The Tree, saw what happened, and began growing, to accommodate two groups. One world turned to two.

Some of the traveller's wished to be able to fly freely, without obstructions, and Tree answered giving them Luftlin.

So much clear skies to fly across, many places high enough to glide from. So, many of the Forgotten traded their eight limbs, to have pair of wings, pair of hands and feet that could carry them when flying was too tiring. And they were called ornitheras, the light ones.

But not everyone wanted to fly, so they kept going. Tree grew, and two became three.

Some wished for a place, where they could run freely, and a strong community where they could belong. Tree heard this, and gave them Cavallrein.

Lots of plains as long as you could see, beautiful hills and small forests to zigzag through. Handful of Forgotten traded their eight limbs to have a pair of hands and two pairs of legs to run with. And they were called kentauros, the fast ones.

But still there were those who didn't want to run, so they kept going. Tree grew, and three became four.

Some of the people wanted to have a place, where they could build everything from the beginning, where they would be able to share everything amongst themselves. Tree heard, and gave them Uuendamine.

Lots of nice spots where villages, towns and cities could be built, and plenty of resources for the homes. So many of the Forgotten traded their eight limbs, to have a pair of hands and pair of legs to stand on, and to have the strength and ability to build and carry. And they were called nommo, the ones who share.

But still there were those who didn't want to share so openly, so they kept going. Tree grew, and four became five.

Some wished for beautiful, steady homes to live in and plenty of resources to live off of. Tree heard, and gave them Amagarth.

Ready-to-live-in homes, finished towns and villages, and lots of rich land and delicious fruits and berries to collect.

Number of Forgotten traded their eight limbs to have just one pair of hands and one pair of legs, but also beauty and gracefullness of all that they have. And they were called fey, the beautiful ones.

Still there were those who were not quite satisfied with the options so far, so they kept going. Tree grew, and five became six.

Some wanted a step up in innovations and inventions, true breakthroughs in the understanding of everything in the worlds. Tree heard this, and gave them Bastubek.

Not the knowledge, but place where to invent and discover, where answers would be found and science would bloom.

Few of the Forgotten traded their eight limbs for to hands and two legs, a tail for steadying themselves in their search for answers and mind so sharp it would seek new and better for as long as possible. They were called felidae, the ones who seek.

Even then there were those who were still not yet there in their minds, so they kept going. Tree grew, and six became seven.

Amongst the travellers were those who liked finding new places, and wished they could do that even more. Tree heard, and gave them Alzazelot.

Great number of paths and roads to travel on, shortcuts to discover and doors to open. Quite a lot of the remaining Forgotten traded their eight limbs for two hands and a pair of really strong legs, that would carry them wherever they wanted to travel to, and a memory so great it would keep track of the found pathways. And they were called plejaren, the traveling ones.

There were only few left of the original group, and they were getting tired. Some wished for a safe place to live in, where they wouldn't be threatened. Tree heard, seven became eight, and it gave them Widheim. Where it was easy to find when in need to safety, but hard to get in when threatening that safety. Plenty of magic to strengthen them after long travel. Half of the remaining Forgotten traded their eight limbs for pair of hands and pair of legs, and the ability to use and help the magic grow and prosper. They were called elven, the magical ones.

The last Forgotten wished for one thing only, a place where they could hide from the bad of the world, where they could be of use to the Creator of the Worlds. Tree heard them, and opened the ground for the last Forgotten to descend into. Guarded by the roots, the last travelers found their destination, the final seekers were given their place. Eight became nine, and the Tree received loyal helpers, who kept the roots healthy, in exchange of their safe haven, Riza.

And at last, antropo, the Forgotten ones, were at home.

[maoam]

if you ever get the time, i highly recommend that you go through the official naruto fanbooks since ive heard that they have many cool sasunaru easter eggs which arent really discussed much among the sns community, my japanese isnt as good so if you ever find something cool please share on your page as well alright?

you can see their japanese scans here (scroll to the bottom of the page)

https://narutoversity.wordpress.com/databooks-and-fanbooks/

I don't know if I care about the fanbooks, considering they aren't comparable to the manga, also their creators make many silly claims like this one:

"First-rate chakra control and brainpower!! Braver than any man, charming as a maiden!!

As a ninja, she still doesn’t have any remarkable feats under her belt, but even Kakashi acknowledges her latent ability. Chakra control, Genjutsu, her display of knowledge during the Chuunin Exams: she’s shown shining potential in a fairly wide array of competences. Should she develop them, she might become a threat even to the great Sasuke! She’s also the one in Kakashi’s team who reins in the two hot-headed types that are Sasuke and Naruto, like an older sister looking after a mischievous little boy."

As me and sneezemonster15 have talked about, Sakura is all book smarts and can't put any of that information into practice. And Kishi wrote her that way. Brainpower? Wish she could use some common sense sometimes. And since when does she reign Sasuke and Naruto in? Sasuke is the one who is constantly roasting her for being lazy and not learning jutsus. And she pipes down for any negative comment from him.

"A woman’s hair is her life. Yet she cuts her hair off in order to change herself!!"

Now this is just stupid and sexist.

"She probably exemplifies what an ideal young woman would be like."

I hope the hell not that Sakura isn't what an ideal young woman is like. Shallow, self-sentered and cruel?

"Sasuke dead…?! Her heart was torn between her shinobi’s duties and pure love."

Lol I remember SS claimed Kishi called Sakura's love "pure" because of this line written by the book creators. Except Kishi called Sakura's love selfish in one of the manga entries. 自分勝手な 恋な, (jibungattena koina) which means selfish/self centered/egoistic love. It’s a negative word.

"Sakura herself doesn’t really know how she feels about Naruto. Her great love is Sasuke, but it should be noticed she also looks Naruto’s way… We can’t talk about love for the moment, but who knows?! It might happen."

Shipping bait that made narusakus think their ship had a chance.

"Hinata’s fighting ability was found lacking by the Hyuuga Clan. But her latent potential is quite conspicuous, so development is to be expected in the future."

🤣🤣🤣

"To find that Itachi is interested only in Naruto surprises Sasuke. This seems to state that the value of his existence falls below Naruto’s. Thoughts of denial give birth to jealousy."

What's funny though is that even these books acknowledge Sasuke was feeling angry due to Itachi when he challenged Naruto, not because he was jealous of Sakura lol. But of course SS pick and choose what they like about these books.

Also all those stats... no way Sakura has higher intelligence than some other characters. She always makes the dumbest decisions during battle.

"She tries to get involved but there is no room for her. In front of their heated glares, she does not exist."

Finally some good line hahaha.

"Sasuke left Konohagakure. Sakura’s heart did not reach him. Naturally lonely and peace loving, for Sakura, the loss of one teammate causes her great pain.

Thus, if that person is someone she loves, the pain is greater. So she shouts out her love which goes unheeded, squeezing the words out of her throat. It’s as if this is her imprisoning destiny."

Something that SS also love to ignore when referring to their precious fanbooks.

A lot of these lines in the book just seem like them writing whatever that sounds nice, and would make fans buy the books. Like the line how no one who confronts Sasuke has a chance of living, despite us knowing it's not true lol

[mikeyinnit]

tale as old as time

Pairing: Technoblade x GN!Reader

Summary: You’ve always wanted adventure, so you left your home. One day you meet the infamous Blood God and think that he might be what you’ve been waiting for.

Word Count: 1.2k words

Notes: Way less Beauty and the Beast inspired than initially planned, so I’m definitely willing to revisit this idea and make one that’s closer if people are interested in that! I just really wanted to make sure I get something out for you guys today <3

Tagging: @angstyx

Villages were usually thought of to be close knit communities, people living and working together and starting families. It was bullshit. At least, that’s true for yours. Your village didn’t love you, it was obvious to everyone around. You weren’t like them, the librarian liked you because you checked out books often but those books being your preferred company made you sort of an outcast among them. Honestly? You didn’t really care. This place wasn’t where you were planning to spend the rest of your days, you were going to leave one day and have the exact adventures you’ve read about. Farming and starting a family with someone you didn’t love sounded awful.

Once you collected enough money from different jobs around town, you were ready to go. The librarian let you keep a book as a parting gift, you chose the worn out copy of Greek myths you’ve read time and time again. With that, you said goodbye to the only home you ever knew and set off for your own great adventure.  

While you traveled, you heard other tales, legends of a man called the ‘Blood God’ and the terror he inflicted on people. You weren’t even sure they were true, it sounded like something from a story that was made to keep children from misbehaving. But there were enough villages that spoke of him that you were beginning to think there may have been something to the tale. It wasn’t long before you met the man yourself.

It had been some time now since you’ve come across another village, and your horse was growing tired, so you swung your leg over to get off and found a tree to have some shelter for the night. While your life hasn’t necessarily been as exciting as the books you loved so much, it was better than being stagnant in a place that didn’t want you there.  

Unfortunately, your wish for a good night’s rest couldn’t be fulfilled, as a large group of zombies found you. You had some experience defending yourself against one or two of the monsters but you didn’t have enough weapons or skill for a whole horde of the undead. On the other hand, you were fortunate, because a stranger with long pink hair seemingly appeared from the shadows and gave you a hand with the zombies. And by a hand, you mean he completely slaughtered them in no time. Needless to say, you were impressed.  

“Thank you, you really saved my life.”  

The man seemed almost uncomfortable with the gratitude, or maybe he was uncomfortable with speaking to strangers, as he just looked at you and nodded in response. But it didn’t deter you in the slightest as you held out your hand with a large grin, almost as if you hadn’t just been nearly killed moments ago. “My name is Y/N.”

This time, the savior at least gave a verbal response, “Technoblade.”

There was something about that name that seemed familiar, you certainly haven’t met him before, but you still couldn’t shake that feeling. Seeing that he won’t return the hand, you let it fall by your side silently. “What are you doing here? Most people would be inside their homes at this time of the night.” Granted, you weren’t, but you also didn’t have a home currently so you had an excuse.

“I had things to do.”

And with that, the tall man moved to leave. His work here was done, he wasn’t even planning on stopping but he wasn’t going to ignore a zombie horde in his path. You just happened to be there and couldn’t take them all on your own. Before you could even say a goodbye, the stranger was gone and you were alone with your horse once more.  

But shortly after he left, you noticed something on the ground where Technoblade stood minutes before. It was a book, one similar to your own, full of tales of Greek Heroes. You knew you wouldn’t want to lose your book forever, so you tried to follow him. You saw the direction he left in and figured he couldn’t have been too far ahead, continuing to follow the path straightforward until you came across a large castle. Dark and towering with seemingly no light inside, it was one that could be considered terrifying to most, especially at night, but to you it just looked beautiful. The building was like a present waiting to be opened, you weren’t sure what was inside or even if the man you were following was here, but you didn’t feel any fear as you pushed the door open. The creak was loud and surely would have caught the attention of anyone, or anything, inside.  

Luckily, it did.  

Unluckily, this attention was the man who had saved your life earlier tonight holding a crossbow aimed straight at you.  

“Why did you follow me?”

For the first time tonight, you figured out why that name was familiar. Technoblade, otherwise known as the Blood God. This was the man that had countless stories told about him, all full of the pain he’s brought and people he’s killed. But he also saved you for no real reason and carried around a book of Greek Heroes. Even with this new knowledge that he will not hesitate to pull that trigger, you still weren’t afraid of him. You couldn’t really say why when you had every reason to fear him, there was just something about this man that was just like the castle the two of you were in. Most people would say it looks scary and wouldn’t want to be near it but you felt the opposite. Soon you finally snapped yourself out of your thoughts and spoke, your gaze trained on him the entire time, “You dropped your book. Yours looks more worn out that mine so I figured you wouldn’t want to miss it.”

The crossbow stayed on you for a few moments while Technoblade considered your words, it helped that you had the book in your hand to confirm your story. Finally, he lowers the weapon and just murmurs a simple thanks as he takes the worn leather book from your hands.

“Which one is your favorite?”  

The question made him pause, and you took that pause to continue speaking. “Or at least a favorite. I know it’s hard to have just one, I usually go with Pandora’s Box but I love Orpheus and Eurydice too.”

There was an expression on Technoblade’s face and you couldn’t figure out what it was. He wasn’t used to people casually talking to him and while it was more of their preference than his own, he didn’t mind the solitude. Not only did you follow him just to return his book, you were staying to ask questions even after he nearly killed you. None of this was normal. But something about him didn’t hate it, so he indulged you for the night. You two spoke all night, sharing your favorite Greek myths and discussing the different versions you’ve found.

Before you even realized, it was daytime. You had spent the entire night talking with a near stranger who had a very dangerous reputation. And it was the best night of your life. You were getting ready to leave, feeling like you overstayed your welcome and that Technoblade would probably want to get back to whatever he was going to do before you showed up. Before you could open the door, his hand grabbed your arm.

“You don’t have to go yet , Y/N.”

And you didn’t hesitate to step away from the door. One more day with the Blood God couldn’t hurt, in fact, one could even consider it an adventure.  

[myherowritings]

of gold stars and lotus crisps

SUMMARY. You didn’t always get along with your roommate. But with his disarming charm and genuine kindness, you soon found yourself taking a liking to Zhongli and all the little gifts he got for you. 

PAIRING. zhongli x reader

WORD COUNT. 3.0k

GENRE. roommate au, modern au, fluff

A/N. i’m in love with zhongli, did u know? 😳 anyway i think i had way too much fun writing this ahdjksd so pls enjoy 🥺💓 xx sof

Your roommate wasn’t particularly airheaded, you wouldn’t say. But he did seem to either forget or not care for the mundane, everyday things in life. 

Mundane, everyday things such as closing the door as he entered, turning the faucet off after washing dishes, bringing his wallet with him when he went shopping, eating enough meals throughout the day needed to properly sustain his health... 

Honestly, you had to wonder how on earth he’s kept himself alive all these years. It wouldn’t surprise you if he was pampered and spoiled rotten all his life. (Though, after getting to know him, you started to realize he did nothing out of malintent and he wasn’t actually a spoiled brat.)

Still, it was annoying at first—you couldn’t lie. 

Those weren’t characteristics you wanted in a roommate, but with how high rent was these days, it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. You’d rather split rent with someone who seemed fairly harmless, albeit a bit of a handful, than go house-hunting all over again.

In the beginning, it was a chore. Constantly closing the door after him or reminding him to lock it himself, paying attention to the running water in case he left the faucet open and accidentally flooded the place, cooking extra for breakfast so he could have something to eat instead of just skipping the meal— It was a lot to deal with at first.

But he was receptive to communication. After you sat down with him one night and genuinely told him about the things that bothered you, Zhongli tried to be more mindful of his surroundings and checked the sink before leaving the kitchen. He brought his keys with him and closed the door. And he even remembered to bring his wallet whenever the two of you went out to eat together! That was a feat in itself, you had to say. 

One thing he never quite got the hang of, however, was not skipping meals due to sheer forgetfulness.

“Did you eat breakfast yet?” you would ask. 

He would pause, putting his book or whatever else was capturing his attention at the time down. “Breakfast… I’m afraid I can’t remember if it was yesterday or the day before when I last ate it.” 

And that simply wouldn’t do. 

You found yourself waking up a little earlier before Zhongli had to go to work and cooking a little more than usual in order to ensure he had something to eat. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, after all! You couldn’t just let your roommate (and friend) miss the best meal. 

It became more and more frequent for the two of you to eat breakfast together to start your day, bonding as you passed a pitcher of orange juice and shared smiles as the sun shined through the glass windows.

Mornings became a million times more pleasant with him around. 

And it wasn’t as if your friendship was purely one-sided, with you giving more than you were getting. In his own ways, Zhongli would express his gratitude and liking towards you. 

Most days, he’d come home from work or from hanging out with his friends with a gift in his hands. Whether it be a shiny figurine from an anime you liked or an obscure snow globe with indecipherable writings on it, he would offer it to you with a wide-eyed look on his face, as if he was deliberately gauging your reaction. 

“Y/N, would you care for this gift? It reminded me of you and I thought you would like it.”

Or—

“You said you were a fan of this show, correct? I’m not sure who the character on this sweatshirt is, but it seems to suit you.” 

Soon, you found all of Zhongli’s gifts to you taking up a whole corner in your room, from the clothes in the dresser to the trinkets resting on the shelves atop. You couldn’t help but smile fondly whenever you glanced at it. 

The routine became second nature, with you cooking meals for him and eating breakfast and sometimes even dinner together, him giving you random gifts and treating you out (when he remembered to bring his wallet, of course). The two of you seemed to settle into a nice, content rhythm. That was, until the past few days when you started feeling an odd flutter in your stomach and an unfamiliar race of your heart in Zhongli’s presence.

You didn’t sense those physiological changes when you were around him before… Why was it happening now? 

After hours of thinking, you came to the conclusion that these symptoms could only be one of two things: Either you randomly caught the case of a stomach bug, or you developed a crush on your roommate. 

You couldn’t say which would be worse. 

And to add insult to injury, you were having this sudden revelation only minutes before Zhongli’s arrival back home. He was out for the weekend and would be here for dinnertime. 

You decided to make a meal of Bamboo Shoot Soup with Lotus Flower Crisps for dessert— Something a little fancier than usual and something you knew he liked, and for some reason, you felt nervous at the thought of him tasting your cooking this time. It was often the case you cooked for yourself and made enough for him to have some servings, but today, you wanted to make things he enjoyed in hopes of having him be pleased by the effort you put in. 

Sure, he would’ve appreciated a sloppily put together Adventurer’s Breakfast Sandwich, but an annoying part of you couldn’t help but seek praise from your crush for a dish you put your heart into. 

Soon enough, you heard the familiar jingling of keys and unlocking of the door as Zhongli stepped inside, slipping his shoes off and removing his overcoat. From the corner of your eye, you saw him pull out a small box from the inner pocket of his coat and slip it into the pocket of his slacks. 

“Hi, Zhongli! Welcome home,” you greeted from the kitchen as you shut the stove off. “You came just in time for me to finish making dinner.”

Home. Was calling your shared space ‘home’ strange? It seemed oddly domestic and you felt your heartbeat pick up speed. It felt right to call it home, and that made you nervous. 

“It smells delectable,” said Zhongli with a smile, rolling his sleeves up his forearms before he washed his hands in the sink. While he dried off, he watched as you scooped the contents of the pot into two bowls. “The bamboo looks perfectly cooked and the pork seems tender and succulent. It’s lovely; thank you for taking the time to cook it, Y/N.” 

You felt heat flood your cheeks at his flood of praises, puffing your chest up ever so slightly. “Well, maybe you should taste it first before you shower me in compliments— What if it’s not as good as it looks?” 

“Having knowledge of your culinary skills from past experiences, I believe it’s unlikely for this meal to be anything less than delicious.” He helped you carry the bowls and utensils to the dining room table, sitting down in front of you with a fond look on his face.“After all, you made it.”

Stuffing your mouth full of bamboo shoots to prevent a dopey look from spreading and inevitably outing your newfound crush on him, you mumbled a quick, “Thanks.” 

He nodded, promptly settling into a comfortable silence as he enjoyed every bite of the soup. Like usual, the meal was on the quieter side, save for his occasional compliments and hums of satisfaction as he ate your cooking. 

“Somehow, you manage to outdo yourself each time,” he commended as he finished his bowl, carefully folding his napkin in a neat square after dabbing it across his mouth. “Thank you for the meal and company, Y/N.”

“Of course. I always enjoy having dinner with you.” 

“Maybe tomorrow, you would allow me to take you out for dinner at Xinyue Kiosk? You recently expressed an interest in having Yue cuisine so I managed to talk to the owner and secure a reservation.” 

Your eyes widened. Xinyue Kiosk was known for having a waitlist that was over three-months long— Travellers from overseas waited years just to get a taste of their Fullmoon Egg and Golden Crab. 

Just a few days ago, you told Zhongli you were craving some Crystal Shrimp from the restaurant and, while he wasn’t fond of seafood, he promised he’d take you to get some soon. Now, you knew he had some pretty powerful connections through his line of work, but you didn’t know it was strong enough to wiggle his way past a three-month waitlist. 

Did he sell his left kidney for a spot? you wondered, only half-joking. 

“Xinyue Kiosk? Tomorrow?” you repeated, wanting to make sure your ears weren’t deceiving you.

“Yes, tomorrow.” He hesitated, an unfamiliar flash of uncertainty crossing his features. “Unless, of course, you are unable to accompany me or do not wish to do so— I apologize if I have made any rash assumptions—” 

“No, no! That’s not it at all! I’d love to go with you! I was just surprised you got a reservation on such short notice,” you said hurriedly, shaking your head. “But maybe I shouldn’t be too shocked; you are amazing after all.” 

“You flatter me. I simply called in on a favor once I found out you wanted to dine on some Yue cuisine,” he brushed off nonchalantly. “It’s the least I could do for you.”

“The least you could do for me is take me on a fancy date to the most exclusive restaurant in Liyue Harbor, hmm?” you teased. “Is this a grand gesture of your affection towards me?” 

“Yes.” 

His answer was so straightforward and brief, you almost didn’t catch it. “P-pardon?” 

Zhongli smiled but didn’t say a word in response.

Was he just joking around and teasing you back? Your stomach churned in excitement but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. You tried to shake off your nerves. 

There was a beat of silence. 

“I made some Lotus Flower Crisps for us—!” “Would you care for a gift I got you—?”

The two of you blurted out your sentences at the same time, trying to patch the lapse of quiet from settling in.

“Apologies,” said Zhongli, tilting his head to the side. “What were you saying again?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine! You can go first!” 

He studied you closely but eventually relented. “If you’re sure.” Zhongli stood up to gingerly pull a mint-colored box out of his pocket, walking around the table until he was next to you. “I was only saying I stopped by the jewelers on the way home from work and picked this up for you.” 

A silly smile spread across your face as you accepted the box into your hands. The jewelry box itself felt durable and luxe, and you opened it up to see cushions of velvet holding a delicate-looking necklace in place. The chain was gold and shiny and there was a small star pendant in the center.

“Stars are bright and brilliant and never fail to light up the darkness. Such a necklace seemed only fitting for the likes of you.” 

Your stomach felt like dolphins were flipping and doing tricks inside. Comparing someone to a star didn’t seem like a ‘just roommates’ thing to do, but you’d rather not assume anything only to be let down. So instead, you just grinned. “It’s beautiful— I love it so much, Zhongli! Thank you.” 

“I’m glad it’s to your liking. Do you need any assistance putting it on?” 

“I’d appreciate that very much,” you said with a nod, watching as his nimble fingers removed the chain from the velvet cushion and gently draped it around you. 

The cool metal brushed against your warm skin, startling you enough that you almost jumped up in your seat. But that feeling of shock didn’t compare to the sparks that came when Zhongli rested his palm against the nape of your neck, taking his time to secure the gold clasp.

“It’s 24 karat gold which means the pendant, though small, may be more malleable than jewelry made of alloyed gold. If you wish to engage in more strenuous physical activities it may be best to take it off then to keep the piece in best condition. Only if that’s to your interest, of course. It’s yours and you may do with it whatever you please.” He removed his fingers from the back of your neck and you felt disappointed at the loss of warmth. “All that to say… I hope you like it.”

Zhongli seemed to have a shy look on his face, a stark contrast from his usually confident and self-assured features. As if he didn’t look cute enough already, you internally swooned. 

“Are you kidding? I love it!” You threw your arms over his shoulders, overjoyed at your new gift. A pure, 24 karat gold piece wasn’t something that sounded inexpensive, and you’d be sure to treasure it for as long as you could. “Thank you so, so much, Zhongli.” 

“You’re more than welcome.” He looked happy that you were happy, smiling as he admired the delicate chain of jewelry around your neck. “It looks stunning on you.”

You glowed at his flattery, but attempted to play it off with a small shrug. “Only because you have good taste.”

“What use is good taste if not to complement the recipient of the present?” said Zhongli, taking a seat back down on the chair across from you. “Now, what were you saying earlier?”

There was a moment of confusion before you remembered the dessert you made for him cooling on the counter. 

“Oh, right!” You stood up in excitement, bouncing over to the kitchen to pull out a tray of Lotus Flower Crisps. “I made these for you,” you said nervously, placing the sweets in the center of the dining table. “It’s probably not as good of a gift as the necklace you got but—”

“It’s better,” he said with certainty.

You blinked. “Better?”

“Yes. After all, you made it.” His voice was confident and his smile was firm as he looked fondly at you. “A gift that requires time and effort to create is the best one a person could receive.” He admired the blooming fried pastry, gently touching the part that was meant to resemble a petal. “Maybe I can make you a gift instead of buying it one day as well.”

“I’d appreciate anything from you,” you said plainly. “If you came home with a half-off candybar, I’d love it nonetheless.” 

Zhongli chuckled, taking a bite of a Lotus Flower Crisp. “You’re very generous. That’s just one thing I like about you.” 

You grew bashful. Just one? Then what were the other things?

“This tastes absolutely delicious, by the way,” he said, the last piece of his pastry disappearing between his lips, the pink tip of his tongue poking out to sweep a loose crumb off the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for making this, Y/N.”

Forcibly tearing your gaze away from his lips, you took a drink of water to clear your dry throat. “You’re welcome. I’m happy you think so. I was worried the taste wouldn’t be to your liking.” 

“No need to worry then, I trust in your culinary skills completely.” 

You shared a smile as you ate the pastry in contentment. The sweet crispness of the pink flower felt light in your stomach, the perfect dessert to complement the mood. 

Once the two of you were stuffed full, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to your conversation at the beginning of the night. 

“So…” you trailed off, promptly gathering Zhongli’s full attention. “Earlier, when I asked if dinner at Xinyue Kiosk  would be a date and a way for you to show your affection and you said yes… You weren’t joking around?”

“I wouldn’t jest about such a thing,” he stated. “Besides, I was talking to Aether about you and he said we were practically dating already. I wasn’t too sure what he meant at first, but apparently it’s not commonplace for roommates to give each other gifts and spend meals together like this.” 

You flushed, having the decency to look sheepish. “Well, I guess he’s right about that. Not that it really matters what’s common or not as long as we both enjoy it,” you said assuredly despite your fluttering heart. You found your hand gravitating towards the small star pendant around your neck. You held it between your thumb and forefinger, finding both comfort and courage in the smooth metal. “Still… I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of dating.”

He smiled when he noticed you holding onto the gift he got for you. “I agree. With you as a partner, the prospect of dating doesn’t sound particularly tedious. Perhaps a nice dinner out would be a good starting point into something more… Official, I believe is the word Aether used?” 

Official. You quite liked the sound of that. “I’d love that. A real, official date sounds nice,” you said with a grin, removing your hands from your necklace only to place it over his, clasping them gently. “Anything to spend more time with you.” 

Zhongli gave you a gentle squeeze back. “It’s a date then. And I’m rather looking forward to it.” 

Fondly, you wondered how your roommate who you once could barely even stand turned into someone so important to you. You went from two objects repelling each other in space, to a binary star system, gravitational bound together. 

“I’m looking forward to it too.”

[amysubmits]

“Just Knowing” & Communication

I got an ask recently asking if I could write something about how doms seem to sometimes “instinctively know” things about their sub, and how communication plays into that. 

I thought it was a great point, and I had an experience that I’d been wanting to share in some way, that I thought would work well within that concept. Anyway, here goes...

I have shared experiences where CD reads my needs seamlessly. Those moments can feel almost magical and that makes me want to share them. I have occasionally heard from people who seem to think CD is nearly capable of reading my mind, as a result of posts like that. It’s not my intention to give that impression. 

There are occasional moments where I am shocked at how he knows things I didn’t say. I’ve also shared that sometimes those moments where he perfectly meets my needs are often the moments where I feel the most owned. That’s because him knowing and meeting my needs feels so intensely intimate, and so much of our D/s comes down to emotional intimacy.

He isn’t a mind reader, though. We have been together over a decade now, and he’s observant. I think that deserves a big mention, when discussing how he ‘just knows’ things about me. He notices my body language, and how I react to things. He learns a lot about me by simply paying close attention. This is really important to me. Him naturally watching me, noticing my mood and such, is a big way that he makes me feel loved. I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t naturally drawn to try to learn me, and pay close attention to me. Just him being someone who pays attention is a huge part of how I feel loved. It shows me that he wants to know as much as he can about me, and that he wants to meet my needs. More than that, his desire to want to learn my needs period, matters. There are some people who just don’t wish to get that deep with their partner, they don’t care to know their partner like the back of their had. That would be a problem, for me, because I do want that level of intimacy. Part of how I knew that CD had that desire for deeper intimacy, was how he tried to learn what he could by observing me. 

At the same time, being mindful of your loved one’s body language, facial expressions and behaviors only goes so far. You can’t observe your way into knowing exactly what someone wants or needs. You just can’t. Certain things just have to be explicitly stated. While a good portion of our emotional intimacy comes from paying close attention to each other, more of it comes from our communication.

The truth is, there have been times where I’ve been frustrated that CD didn’t catch something. I’ve occasionally had the emotional reaction of almost feeling neglected because he didn’t notice something about me. And that? Is not a healthy reaction for me to have. That reaction is something I have to try to be conscious of, and I can’t allow myself to run away with those feelings. I have to recognize them and fight back against them. Because I can’t expect him to read my mind, or to pick up on everything, to ‘just know’ everything, or anything, really. If he isn’t aware of something, it is my responsibility to communicate. 

We were new to D/s in particular, we talked about our needs and wants all the time, often daily. Getting started with D/s requires really thorough communication so that you know the boundaries and limits of the dynamic, and so that you know what is expected of each of you. Even though we tried to hammer out our dynamic in advance, we found ourselves experiencing scenarios that we weren’t sure how they ‘should’ be handled with our D/s, because we couldn’t pre-plan our D/s for how to go about every possible scenario that life may throw at us. So whenever we experienced something new and didn’t know how to handle it, we’d have to discuss how we wanted to handle it. Or in there cases we’d handle a situation and then realize we wished it had been handled differently, and we’d discuss that and plan to do differently next time. 

After a while (many months?) it got to where we had the basics down and we didn’t need to talk about things as often anymore. We didn’t have to discuss it multiple times a week anymore, but perhaps a couple times a month was sufficient. Still, the frequency ebbs and flows. We go through phases, even now, 6 years in, of discussing our D/s more or less often. It mainly depends on whether we’re facing new things in life or making changes to our rules or the rest of our dynamic, or whether life is normal and our dynamic is unchanged. If we make changes, that means we’ll communicate about our D/s more often for a while, usually. Tons of what we know about each other and our needs are things we’ve learned through all that communication. Way more than we’ve learned by just observing each other. 

Our “meta-talks” (discussions about our D/s) are perhaps one of the areas that I don’t give enough attention to on this blog. They’re often very private feeling, so it’s hard to feel comfortable sharing much about them. 

A couple of months ago after a meta-talk, we came to the conclusion that it would be helpful for us to focus on making sure I feel very seen. It wasn’t that I had stopped feeling seen...but more that our current life circumstances were making me need to feel more seen than usual. Anyway, CD had me make him a list of things that made me feel seen, to share with him.

The things I shared on that list were all things he had done “naturally” before. So it was more about sharing with him what things he does that make me feel particularly seen. Still, I did over-think it, a little bit. I wondered if it would feel different for him to do these things for me after I shared them with him, rather than doing them purely instinctually, like he had in the past. Would it feel less genuine? Would I be able to absorb it and really effectively feel see if I suspected he was doing this for the purpose of making me feel seen? 

Early on, I did feel a bit bashful or self-conscious when I noticed him doing those things a little bit more often. I felt a bit insecure like “Oh, he just thinks he has to do that because I need to feel more seen.” and for some reason that cheapened it a little in my mind, and also made me feel a bit selfish or something. Worrying about being a burden on people is a deep seeded insecurity of mine that comes in up all sorts of ways. So it’s not surprising that my brain tried to twist this into ‘he just feels obligated to’. Even early on when I was feeling those insecurities, I was feeling seen, at the same time.  As more time went on though, those insecurities softened and I was able to recognize that these things were feeling fulfilling to him, too, which further eased my insecurities. 

This is just one example of how our direct communication has benefitted our D/s. When this type of thing occurs over the course of many years, I hope you can imagine how that can assist with creating those “he just knows” moments. 

I think a lot of good relationships have similar experiences with hesitating to share exactly what you want from your partner. The love is there, the good intent is there, but unless you tell your partner exactly what makes you feel the best...you can’t magically expect them to know. Yet many of us have this instinct that “I can’t tell them exactly how I’d like them to treat me, or it won’t be as ‘real’”. 

I think D/s often complicates this issue even farther. Subs hesitate to ask for ‘too much’ because they don’t want to be too needy, or to feel like they’re taking charge or telling their doms what to do. Which I think is a valid concern. In my view, the answer to that potential problem isn’t to avoid sharing what make you feel good. Instead, it’s just to be mindful of the way that you are communicating, so that you are sharing the knowledge of your needs or desires without telling them what to do. 

Communicating in great detail is a huge part of how we find the intimacy that we’re after with D/s. Understanding in detail what makes each other feel dominant and submissive does SO much to assist us with keeping our D/s on track, and to keep each other feeling loved and cared for. These deep, difficult, detailed discussions are also helpful to our D/s because they make me realize how safe our relationship is. That sense of security allows me to let go and be more submissive. 

As I said earlier, I understand that instinct that if you tell someone exactly what you want, and then they do it, your initial instinct may be to feel like it’s less meaningful when they do it. Like asking for it somehow ‘cheapened’ it. 

I think that is a largely misguided instinct, though. I think that if you tell someone what feels good to you, and they do it just to placate you or please you? You can tell they’re just phoning it in. And if you tell them what makes you feel good, and they do it because they enjoy making you feel good? You’ll feel that too. 

It’s similar to how starting D/s worked for us. When I first asked for it, I worried it would be something he did just for me. But once he found meaning in it himself? I could tell that our D/s was fulfilling for him, that it was giving him joy, and that he was really feeling the connection with me through this dynamic. It was just easy to see that he was really ‘feeling it’. A similar thing can happen with "smaller” things such as specific acts of love, care or service. 

[writingwithcolor]

Announcement: No Longer Answering Rubber Stamp Questions

Introduction

Here at Writing With Color, we’ve noticed a shift in the questions we are receiving. In the past, the majority of questions challenged the necessity of diversity in fiction or asked for assistance in making diversity seem more plausible in world-building. We also received many questions on how to describe and characterize people of color in respectful ways that didn’t demonize different races, ethnicities and religions.

By and large, we see that our followers understand why these concepts are important, and for that we congratulate you! This kind of progress takes real, long-term, internal work. Our team hopes that any advice or input you received from us over the years has helped you continue to develop as a writer. We hope you will continue to support us in the future and are especially pleased to hear from our non-white commenters who have let us know when our content has let them feel seen or heard.

However…

We have noticed a recent trend in asks that is discouraging. Many askers seem concerned with receiving our blanket approval of a particular concept or character. These asks often don’t provide us with the direction and context crucial to providing advice from a race or ethnicity-based perspective. Examples include:

“I’m writing a character from [insert background] who has [insert traits]. Is this ok?”

“I’m creating a world where I have made [insert concept] the basis of my world-building. Is this allowed?”

Hi, I’m a [insert identity]. Is it problematic to have [concept/ character] in my story?

“I’m creating a [Race A] character with [these] traits, a [Ethnicity 1] character with [those] traits, a [Race B] character with [some other traits] and a [sex/ gender minority] character with a [different set of traits]. Is this combination offensive?

We call these questions rubber stamp questions. If this describes your question, there’s no need to feel bad. We realize that there was never an explicit explanation of this concept. In addition, our team is mindful of the changing demographics of tumblr that might make it mean we are receiving questions from a younger user-base are not yet familiar with many of the principles we outline on this website. However, on that note…

What is Rubber Stamping?

Rubber stamping refers to the practice of seeking an endorsement without questioning or seeking to alter the status quo. The purpose of Writing With Color is to be a focal point for discussion about diversity in writing rather than simply prescribe a series of corrective measures. Without knowing the asker’s intent (Which we can’t, since we aren’t mind readers), our moderators are not in a position to provide you with carte blanche for your writing concept in the name of all other non-white people. Yes, we have a certain level of skill and expertise on many of these topics, but we are not here to take on the burden of all PoC to approve your writing choices. Nor would it be fair to other PoC if you took our response as a reason to dismiss the perspectives of other PoC (An unfortunately common phenomenon).  

Bluntly, on the moderator end, these asks are also incredibly frustrating because they are vague and thus:

Time consuming

Labor intensive (mentally and emotionally)

The last example from the previous section (AKA “Laundry lists”) is particularly time consuming because multiple moderators must collaborate to produce an answer that boils down to each moderator saying, “I guess it depends??? *shrug*” but in slightly different ways.

Perhaps the biggest problem with rubber stamp asks is they feel (to us) like they are more about the asker’s desire for closure/ approval/ virtue signaling than a willingness to participate in the kind of education and discussion on diversity we are trying to foster on this blog.

To that effect: We will no longer be answering such questions.

(If you sent in such ask before this goes up on November 15th, 2020, a moderator may reach out to you individually to better address your inquiry as submitted.)

However: Don’t worry! We also are here to teach you how to makes these questions better!

Fixing Rubber Stamp questions:

1. Be specific.

Instead of Can I/ May I, try “How can I” or “When can I” or “What can I”?

Thus instead of: “I’m Christian. May I create a Jewish character seeking to become an actress in 1920s Hollywood?” —> “How do I, as a Christian, create a compelling Jewish character while being mindful of the interplay between my own intrinsic bias and historical accounts of prominent Jewish figures in early Hollywood?”Or, instead of: “I want to write a story about a modern day piracy in the East Indian Ocean, but with magic. Is this problematic? —> “Given the continuation of modern day piracy in the East Indian Ocean, what are some tropes I should avoid if I decide to go with a modern fantasy set in this region?”

2. Remember: The goal is improved understanding, not approval. Sometimes, you really just want to know *why* you can’t use a particular concept, and that curiosity is good! Questions that ask “Why?” in good faith are often how you can learn a lot about your own intrinsic biases and the limits of your own knowledge.

Thus, instead of: If I write about [controversial topic], am I a bad person? —> Why is it better for someone like me to not write about [controversial topic]?

This approach has the bonus effect of making us feel like you actually care about what we think.

3. Write your question as a draft: Edit your ask at least once or twice to provide as much information as possible while being concise. I’ve told this to college students before, but I can tell when a person wrote their assignment by the quality of the writing. Writing done late at night, when sleep deprived and without at least one edit contains extraneous information while not having a clear point.

Going through your question (Preferably a day after you wrote it) will help you narrow down what you really want to know.

Remember: You all have free will and can write whatever you please. We presume that you seek WWC’s input because you wish to write on issues pertaining to people of color with greater levels of awareness. On a practical note, we recognize that social media, trolling, call-outs, doxxing and other dimensions of cyberbullying make writers online hesitant to do anything unless they think they have the majority of the public on their side. There are times when it is obvious that the asker is asking more because they need approval to feel less anxious when they share their work with others.

However, if the above is your worry, either you aren’t ready to write on this topic or you need to rethink the boundaries you set with the online communities/ individuals you interact with as well as how you manage your internet presence. With respect to personal anxieties when it comes to writing, morality, your conscience and so forth, we recommend turning to your own support systems IRL. As relative strangers on the internet, we are not well-qualified to allay personal concerns.

Remember: Writing with diversity is like training for a marathon. Give yourself permission to expand your comfort zone at the pace your research capabilities and experience allow!

We appreciate that you all trust us to provide helpful, well-thought out feedback for your ideas, and we also thank you for respecting our perspectives even if you may disagree. In the same vein, we request that you put the level of thought into your questions you think appropriate given that another human being is going to spend, at a minimum, several hours coming up with their response. We look forward to hearing from you! 

- The WWC Team

(A link to this article will be added to the pinned FAQ for everyone’s reference)

[boldbrash-fandertrash]

Ignore me, unless I’m right in which case I fucking called it

So I was rewatching the episode for the fourth time and one I realized that Remus is much much smarter than we give him credit for and two I can generally predict how the rest of the story is gonna go.

We’re gonna have another aside video with Patton and Janus before the big season finale, and that aside is going to be one of the most important videos to the general progression of the plot.

I’m sure you’ve noticed the pattern so far, two sides who diametrically oppose each other being forced to work together on a problem they vastly disagree about, usually turning the small issue into something much messier than it ever would be and them learning something about themselves in the process.

Each pairing exists to point out to the viewer exactly what issues exist with each side that need some form of resolving, and the big unifying theme amongst them is “you’re not listening to me”. Roman and Virgil dragging Thomas across the cafeteria in favor of or agains him talking to Nico, Logan and Remus deliberately ignoring and working to undo the others work in an attempt to break Thomas out of the depressive funk he found himself in. Nobody is working together here. The only side to even remotely cooperate with the group was Virgil body checking Thomas into Nico, and it took him and Roman bullying each other and Thomas for an entire video to even get to that point.

Watching Logan and Remus interact, one, brought me immense joy and I will be chasing that high for weeks to come, and two, after an ounce of critical thinking was frankly painful to watch. Any critiques Logan offered to Remus were immediately discarded with absurdity and any critiques Remus offered to Logan were discounted as absurd.

During the obvious scene at the end with the Eyes™️, Logan claimed he wasn’t pretending Remus didn’t exist, but honestly, he kinda was.

The Dunce Cap Scene really accentuates this point. Logan pulls a holier than thou, why won’t you learn I’m always right, bullshit passive aggressive remark, Remus does his dramatic repenting student shtick, starts singing directly into Logan’s ear, and makes a kink joke. Literally the words Remus sings are “can’t fix this guy, all by yourself”. Remus is saying this inches from Logan’s personal face and even still the logical side ignores him outright, because of all the fluff around the message. Hell, in Remus’s introduction video, Logan likens him to a screaming baby on a plane, essentially saying “well eventually he’ll stop screaming so just bear with it for a while and you’ll be fine”. He’s ignoring Remus outright due to a preconceived notion and missing out on valuable information because of it.

The dunce cap scene indirectly calls back to learning new things about ourselves, where Logan is completely unreceptive to the puppet bit because of its perceived absurdity and absolutely refuses to acknowledge any potential the medium might have for learning until he physically cannot anymore.

Remus is capable of, and does often, make valid points and offers genuine critiques of shit happening in their lives. In Forbidden Fruit, almost every single line harkens back to some idea the other sides had been trying, and failing, to communicate to Thomas. “Good and bad is all made up nonsense”, “if you shared those musings with your friends i doubt they would forgive you”, “why deny yourself knowledge, say, knowledge of yourself” “people don’t like me much, Thomas, but that only just cause I’m honest”, “these sorts of things are only thought in the mind of a man who’s soul is truly rotten.”

Despite all of this, he is ignored outright because of his medium. Just like Logan is ignored due to his monotone cadence and large volume of content, just like Roman is due to his flair for the dramatic and artistic display of ideas, just like Patton is due to his playful and childlike nature, just like Janus is due to his perceived role as the Villain, just like Virgil /was/ due to his perceived role as the villain.

They all have become accustomed to being stepped on by the other sides because of who they are and how they communicate, and have in turn learned some less than ideal methods of being heard again. Logan yells and gets passive aggressive, Remus ups the fear factor for everyone around him, Roman shuts down anyone who tries to talk through bullying and raising his voice, Patton manipulates the others into feeling guilt and covers it up with a smile, Virgil whips out the tempest tongue and incites fear in Thomas, and Janus physically silences anyone in his way.

And here’s why I say the next asides episode is going to be the most important one developmentally. Patton and Janus are going to be forced to work together. Patton, who is in the midst of an identity crisis, and willing to listen to any new ideas provided they offer a valid solution to the shit he’s found himself in, and Janus, who knows a lot more than he’s willing to let on, who concerns himself exclusively with Thomas’s self preservation, and loves to talk when given the opportunity. Janus is gonna have a thing or two to say to Patton when they’re inevitably faced with their moral dilemma, and Patton is going to be in just the right mindset that he’s willing to listen. And Janus is going to end up being right, and the small issue they’re facing will be resolved, which will therefore strengthen Patton’s trust, and his openness to changing for the better.

Patton is goofy, and childish, and kinda ditzy sometimes, and because of that we as a fandom tend to overlook any of his moments that are anything but that, but we are not giving this man enough credit. When Patton sets his heart on something, he throws his whole self into it, and is willing to stand up for his beliefs in the face of extreme opposition, and would gladly do anything in his power to defend his family. Once Patton decides that he’s willing to grow, and if he believes that this growth will help put his family back together, nothing can stop him, and that will be absolutely crucial for the growth of all the other sides around him.

Whatever him and Janus discuss during their aside will absolutely give Patton the information he needs to help stitch together the rift between everyone.

I predict the next official Sanders Sides video is going to be the longest one yet, possibly over an hour long, because there’s a LOT of work that is going to need to be done, and Everyone is going to be in it. The big issue of “you’re not listening to me” won’t be resolved, but it will be acknowledged in a serious light by everyone. We won’t be getting any appearances from the Orange Side I don’t think, that would end up just complicating matters even more when each character is already incredibly shaky in their own identity.

Something less than ideal is gonna happen between Thomas and Nico, he’s gonna summon the initial three to deal with the matter but the other lads are gonna worm their way into the discussion, everyone’s gonna start screaming at each other, and Pattons gonna do something that stuns everyone else into silence (I’m guessing he’ll start crying, considering the start of season two was all about him repressing negative emotions and what better way to show character growth than to sob openly on camera).

Once everyone just fucking stops for ten seconds that’s when the apologies start. None of the sides are ever the first to apologize, we’ve seen that time and time again. Their desire to be in the right as well as their pride will always get in the way, however if someone starts the apology train everyone will eventually follow suit. We see that in Alone On Valentines Day, My Negative Thinking, Growing Up, Accepting Anxiety, Fitting In, Moving On, actually in pretty much every video where an apology actually takes place, once one person apologizes the other will immediately follow suit.

Patton is gonna be a goddamn mess, he’s gonna apologize to everyone in the room for anything he thinks he may have done to wrong them, and that’s gonna be what gets everyone to acknowledge all the shit they’ve put each other through, and the others are going to jump between trying to console him and trying to apologize to each other. They’re going to come to the unified decision that they need to work together more on future issues, the group is all going to offer up a solution and decide together on a remedy to whatever happened together between Thomas and Nico, and that will be that. Season three will be about them finding the balance between stepping on toes and being stepped over, while also working out how the orange side fits into everything.

Thus marking the end of my rant.

I started writing this at 2 and it’s now 4. I have to be up in three hours. I have an essay due at 3pm tomorrow that I haven’t started, but instead I typed up all this bullshit. I hope any of this made any sense, and I hope this is a suitable replacement for my emotions essay that’s completely untouched because chances are this is what I’m presenting to my therapist tomorrow. Wish me luck.

[pot-of-terv]

Disclaimer: This starts soft but very quickly goes to a place I did NOT expect it to go so, just, be prepared. I guess there were some things my muse just couldn’t leave untouched :_D There’s also an additional drawing in there somewhere among the text. The ending is kind of a cliffhanger (dun dun duuun... part three is coming!!) but it’s happy (hurt/comfort y’all, MY BRAND)!

Also I have to say- oh my goodness this ended up having over 2,000 words and I’ve never written a fic this long! This feels pretty amazing but also, very scary, because as you know I’m a Finn so English is not my first language and this far I’ve stuck to just writing itty bitty things. Writing a story with multiple parts is also new to me, so wow, actually, thank you PuzzleJune for making me challenge myself in fresh and exciting ways 🥺

tw: breakdown

PuzzleJune2021, Week Two: Space (Quiet)

It is mesmerising. Intoxicating, even, Atem muses as he reaches up to rub his own sleep-soft face, eyes never leaving the still sleeping figure beside him. He shifts to lay on his side, slowly, with deliberate movements, trying to not disturb the quiet of the early morning.

Watching him sleep like this... I can feel the bed move when he moves and his warmth whenever he's close enough. I never had that before, he thinks and his heart clenches. I have it now.

Yuugi snorts in his sleep and Atem can't help but smile. That boy... no, that young man, has been through so much, too much, and yet he still sleeps so soundly. It's nothing short of incredible and the pharaoh wonders if he's ever met anyone more deserving of respect and admiration. Their journey thus far has only lasted for a couple of years and during that short time, the former spirit of the Millenium Puzzle has had the first-row seat to witnessing Yuugi's strength, his growth - how he slowly but surely had begun to trust himself.

Atem turns his gaze away from Yuugi and mulls over that thought. It hurts him somewhere deep in his core to remember how little worth Yuugi had seen in himself during those first months after Atem's consciousness awakened. He touches his chest where his heart is and leaves his hand there, feeling the slow rhythm beating under his palm.

That feeling of self-doubt could as well be his own, for he did think he was Yuugi for a while back then. It's a troubling realisation and he frowns at the ceiling. Despite not having any memories, how many of those insecurities had been Atem's own that he subconsciously reflected towards Yuugi's heart and by doing so unknowingly meddled with Yuugi's self-image as a whole? Objectively he knows that his emergence helped Yuugi gain confidence even though he didn't remember those first few times Atem took his place, but subjectively...? Atem's brows knit tighter together and he balls the hand that rests on his chest into a fist.

To call these thoughts troubling is an understatement. Suddenly Atem feels uncomfortably restless, he can't keep still, he needs space, he has to move. But moving would mean leaving the warm blankets and the even warmer form next to him and risk waking him in the process.

His chest feels so tight and it aches in a way Atem hasn't felt in millennia and he squeezes his eyes shut, holds his breath and with one swift movement pushes the blankets off of himself, sits up and rolls to the side to plant his feet onto the floor. The wood is cool under the bare soles of his feet and that sudden feeling makes him pause for a moment. He releases the breath he was holding.

It's almost funny how he already feels better. He glances over his shoulder to see if he had woken Yuugi up but the other youth seems undisturbed, still fast asleep. Relieved, Atem stands up... and doesn't know what to do. It's still practically night time and the house is silent. Mama Mutou and Grandpa will be getting up in one to two hours and Yuugi much later than that if his previous findings are to be trusted. Normally he would happily snooze the morning away with Yuugi but he doesn't want to go back to bed, the restlessness still buzzing under his skin even though that unpleasant tightness in his chest has ebbed and is now just a nuisance instead of actual, painful anxiety.

He turns around to face the bed so he can take another look at Yuugi, properly. A glance wasn't enough. Will never be enough, he realises all of a sudden. I want to be looking at Yuugi, and only Yuugi, forever. How can his heart feel so big and full but so small at the same time?

Atem is overwhelmed, not yet used to the absolute link between his feelings and his physical senses, and he lifts his hand once more to his chest, almost desperately grasping his shirt and pressing his fist against his heart, to feel the beat of it, and the warmth of his body.

He has this body now and he should be so, so thankful for it, but at this moment he can only feel guilt. He loves Yuugi but has still put him through so much and he knows, oh how he knows, that the trip to Egypt broke him. Atem had felt Yuugi mourn him weeks beforehand, felt his grief he so valiantly tried to conceal - too bad their bond at that point was the strongest it had ever been and Atem knew. It took everything in him to keep on going, to keep on telling himself that this was the right thing to do, this was how he could repay Yuugi's kindness and let him go on with his life, let him be free. He had heard the modern phrase “if you love them let them go”, and wouldn't that have been so grand? To prove his love in such a poetic, profound way?

All that in spite of Yuugi's feelings screaming at him that to be separated was the last thing he wanted.

Atem chuckles, a bitter taste in his mouth. Despite having shared such an extraordinary bond, communication had never been their strongest point, duels usually excluded, and talking about their feelings was not an exception. Still isn’t. They both had just kept on doing what they thought was the best for the other and in the process ended up wounding each other in ways that Atem isn't sure he can ever truly understand. Yesterday he had come down to the kitchen to find Yuugi folding laundry, eyes puffy and red, yet when he talked he sounded so happy. Atem had left it at that because there's nothing he could do when confronted by that smile that can put even the Sun in shade.

Slowly he realises that he's been staring at his partner for such a long time that it must be bordering on creepy. How did he get here from that warmth he first woke up to, from that love he so deeply feels for Yuugi? Why hasn’t he thought about these things before? It's like all he has in his head are questions with no answers to calm his mind. It's only been a week since... since it all should've ended, but didn't, all because of Atem's selfishness. Selfishness... and love. His own heart had broken when his life points counted down to zero and he saw the utter hopelessness he felt surface in his heart reflected right back at him on Yuugi's face. The memory of it is still so strong that he has to grit his teeth together to keep his jaw from trembling.

He hadn’t been able to stand that expression, to stand the knowledge that he was the cause of it. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough. The pride he had felt toward Yuugi's skill was completely overshadowed by the grief that hit him in waves, his legs feeling like lead as he slowly walked to Yuugi, his own voice distant to his ears as he offered words of consolation and praise. Empty words, they were, he knew it then and he knows it now. How could he ever leave this person who had gone through so much for him, because of him, who had loved him so fully, who had risked it all to be there for him in his quest to regain his memories even when knowing that the price for that would be too steep to consider if Yuugi ever stopped to do that?

Atem had never wanted to leave. He had learned to live again, to have friends, and grow as a person, no matter how minuscule that growth might have been. Yuugi had been him and then Yuugi had become his world. There's no other way to explain it. As much as Atem had longed for his memories, for those people he loved and lost all those thousands of years ago, he couldn't bear the thought of losing another family. Even when the prize would be to regain his first one. 

But he had to. He had thought he had to.

Yet when he was just about to take the last step, he had faltered. Had wondered - does it have to be this way? What if there's another choice he could make?

And the gods had answered him. He didn't have to beg, he didn't have to fight, he just had to ask.

Just ask.

It had been so simple, in the end, so effortless. Of course, Atem asked for that third choice - or didn't really even ask, he didn't dare, he wished for it, his heart on the verge of breaking a second time. He had been painfully aware of his friends behind him, holding their breaths, waiting for the end. Atem felt their feelings wrap around him like a cloak and he bore the weight of it, accepted it, as he couldn't quite believe that it would be that easy to stay. So he had wished.

And that wish had been granted.

And now he is here.

Standing in the middle of the floor in Yuugi's room while Yuugi sleeps, hands closed into fists, both grasping his shirt now, holding back tears that threaten to spill forth. Wondering why did he even put Yuugi through all that, when in the end, it was for nothing? Oh, he thinks, oh, how it hurts. His own shortcomings, his own pain, the pain that he had caused others. Especially the pain that he had caused Yuugi. He hadn’t deserved it, he never deserved something so cruel and insincere as Atem's decision to leave had been.

A sob wrangles itself up and out of his mouth, he's not able to stop it in time and that breaks his resolve. He sways on his feet as tears force their way out and streak his cheeks, fall into his shirt and seep into the fabric as he hiccups and tries half-heartedly to stop it. He shouldn't be crying, not after everything he’s done. He doesn’t deserve to feel so sorry for himself - he should be the one to take responsibility, to carry that burden without a hitch. But, the thing is… at this moment, he’s no longer the prince-then-pharaoh from 3000 years ago. He’s no longer the amnesiac spirit occupying the Puzzle. He’s not the King of Games.

At this moment, he’s just a 16-year-old boy who is desperately trying to deal with every responsibility he’s imagined are only his to bear and failing spectacularly. So he cries, and cries, and he can no longer see with how blurry his eyes have gone. He prays Yuugi won't wake up to it, he just has to suffer through it and he'll be fine. Crying is fine, actually. He would laugh at himself if he could - aren't tears an actual luxury, after all? He wasn't able to cry his own tears with his own body before, but now he can.

There's a hand on his shoulder and Atem's heart drops into his stomach - oh no, now he's woken up - then another on the other side, then a tug, and Atem follows blindly. He's guided back to the bed and coaxed to sit down where a warm body presses against him and he's enveloped in an embrace.

Atem finds that he can't talk, he tries to draw breath to get the words out but sobs are the only thing he can produce and finally, he hears a voice call his name. It's so soft and warm and loving that Atem somehow feels worse and buries his head into Yuugi’s shoulder, his chest heaving and he almost wails from the struggle of it.

“Shh, other me. Cry it out. It helps. I know.”

He listens to Yuugi and does just that. It’s not easy to give up the reins but with Yuugi by his side, he finds the will to allow himself to succumb. He clutches his partner's shirt, holds him and is held in return, and lets himself cry. Lets his tears come like he's never done before and faced with the force of them, he feels like there's no end to it.

But there is an end. After a period of time that feels like an eternity, his sobs subside, his tears slow down, and he feels like he can finally loosen his hold of Yuugi's shirt to let blood flow into his fingers again. His nose feels snotty and he's sure there's no dry spot left on his partner's clothes and somehow that thought makes him laugh.

“See? All better now,” Yuugi murmurs against his temple and presses his lips there. That sign of affection almost makes Atem's eyes well up but he squeezes them shut, refusing to start crying all over again. He feels drained and empty and he's pretty sure he should be ashamed. He had woken Yuugi up and made him comfort him without asking but all he can feel is gratitude. Gratitude and love and endless adoration.

“Aibou,” he sniffles, voice congested and raw. He means to thank him but his throat closes up, yet Yuugi seems to catch his meaning.

“No need,” the shorter of the two says and Atem can feel his smile against his skin, “it's okay. You're okay, we're okay, everything's okay.”

Atem wants to argue but finds no energy for it. And - as he thinks about it, he realises that Yuugi is right.

They're okay.

He wraps his arms properly around Yuugi and squeezes, sighing softly. His mind is comfortably quiet now and he presses his ear against Yuugi's chest, listening to the beat of his heart (his heart's heart?) and feeling his own fall smoothly into the same rhythm. It's natural, it's right.

“I think,” he manages to croak out, “that we need to talk.”

Yuugi holds him closer and nods before pressing his face into Atem’s hair.

“Yeah,” he replies, sounding relieved, “we sure do, other me.”

[musicmushi]

Focus, Wandering, and needing to be Heard

I am not currently sure what I’m supposed to accomplish here. I have a list of things that I should be doing. A terrifying focus of should bes but never are. I should script, I should edit, I should focus on art, I should focus on family, pets, clean, focus, focus, focus…

Focus on what I need but what is a need when you live your life for others. For the focus and attention of others. The praise of loved ones or worse…strangers. What is a need without the knowledge that others would praise you for reaching it. Meeting it like an old friend or a new acquaintance in the sullen alleyway of yourself. Meeting an old aching need like agreeing to chat with a friend over coffee. The light jazz sprinkles our words with a special emphasis that says ‘this is here. This is now.’ Meeting aq new need that feels self-taught, self-created, innovated by the devil's idle hands. In the loneliness of quiet when there is no one to meet. No one to update but myself and the moon.

The moon feels like it could be a good listener. The waxing and waning crescents wipe away the old to gladly accept the new, the harvest at its fullest ready to sit and to ponder. To let the silence simmer and the stars shimmer in information shared like a secret betwixt lovers only to have the crescent become eager for knowledge once more. Am I afraid to continue shouting into the silence? Do I fear the moon not care for me anymore? The universe does not care for any one individual so then why must we be plagued by the desire to be heard. Why does the notion that the moon does not listen hurt? Why must I always hinge my creations on the praise of others? Of strangers?

Why must we crave loved ones? Humanity has been built on community and the instinct of pack mentality. Being Shepard'd as one of the herd. One of the herd begging to be heard. It’d feel like a joke if it weren’t so tragic. I’ve seen people put trust in the stars. As if the galaxy could tell anyone anything about themselves and how they can judge others. I beg the moon to listen to my cries of loneliness and yet I know the moon does not care. The stars were not built out of empathy. There is not a fortune to be spelled out amongst the stardust that dances in the night sky. No matter how many stars you manage to count, there will never be an answer. You will not gain access to self-knowledge nor will the galaxies give you any excuse to belittle others.

If the star signs give you personal stories to tell, tell them with your full chest! However, you should never forget empathy. You must always maintain enough empathy to know that you will never truly know anyone enough to judge, berate, or belittle them for being different than you. Never let those giant balls of gas traveling at the speed of light, being the measures for light speed, they are not built with empathy. Never let the stardust excuse your ignorance and hurt you cause others. Never let the twinkling lights in the night explain away your monstrosities. Stars can mean quite a lot to a lot of people, but they do not give permission to ANYONE to abuse.

Anything that gives you self-hope should not also fuel your cruelties.

But who am I to say such things? I’m but a lone stranger writing my thoughts into the nether because I cannot think of anything else to focus on. Who am I to request to be listened to?

I don’t know what I crave from doing this. I wonder if I post it, perhaps someone will read it. Maybe someone can tell me that I did a good job? Perhaps I can be informed that I made some excellent points. That I’m truly well read and poignant and artistic and creative. That I truly am smart and wonderful and friendly and courageous and all the things we always secretly wish we are.

Or maybe I’m searching for empathy? I cast my message in a bottle and toss it out to sea with the vain hopes that this reaches someone else who only has themself and the moon to open to. Maybe I’m reaching for another soul that reads what I say and feels a sort of connection. Someone that would hopefully not feel as alone as when they started. Is that selfless? Or do I still just want validation from strangers. ‘Look at that young man! He reached out to the lonely and the broken! What a good man that is!!’

Is wanting to hear that selfish? Does that defeat the purpose of compassion, selflessness, and empathy?

…Do those answers matter?

I’m left to think about that episode of Sanders Sides where Janus (Deceit) emphasized the importance of self-care. Selfish is bad but self-ish behavior can be lifesaving. You should not wait for a catastrophe to remember that your own self matters just as much as others.

Selflessness and compassion are wonderful virtues but what happens when you focus so much on compassion for strangers or loved ones that you run out of energy for yourself? And when is there “enough” self-care?

When is it ever enough??

When will I feel heard?

When can I focus on others?

When does what I want or need matter?

When will I make a sound?

When, when, when, nothing but when buzzing around in my brain. A static buzz begging for a timeline. A set date where everything works out and finally falls into place. I know wanting such things is foolish but without power, all I have is wants. Foolish, stupid wants.

Let me put my line in the sand. My pencils are sharp enough; even the dull ones will make a mark. Fuck it, let's do this!