#but like i have the markers and the ink and i can't think of anything to draw that warrants the use of All That

[skunkes]

drawing from your experiences and writing what you know

[enbyjjunie]

[16:22]

you were a mess of drool, sweat and tears as san finally granted you a small break in between all the fucking and touching he had been doing the last hours. he had promised you a whole day of all the pleasure you could wish for as an apology of having had to work so much. you had told him that he didn't have anything to apologise for and that you knew about his relationship to his work before you entered a relationship with him, but you never said no to the day he'd promised you.

"you're such an incredible little slut for me, so perfect," san cooed at you while adding another line to the tally he had started at the start of the day. he waited for the temporary ink from the marker to dry before affectionately smoothing his thumb over it, "you've given me 5 of your orgasms already... your body was made for me to pleasure," a shudder ran through you and your hips bucked a little. with the promise of a pleasure-filled day your body had started getting excited the second the promise had been made and now you couldn't get enough. he laughed at you, starting as a sweet endeared laugh but soon turned mean; "you just can't get enough, can you? you little whore. and here i was, being so considerate and giving you a break. i should've known better; you need my cock in you at all times..." he leaned down while holding eye contact, making sure you were staring into his dark eyes as he spoke; "are you feeling empty?" you had no dignity left to keep sacred, nodding the second he'd asked the question, moving your spent legs to try and wrap them around him once again, pulling his hips closer in a plea for him to fill you with his thick cock yet again.

he placed his hand over your neck, where he had written something like "mute button", you weren't quite sure. he'd told you when he wrote it but since you couldn't see it and you had... other things to think about, it had slipped your mind. what hadn't slipped your mind was what he had written in big, bold letters just above your crotch; SAN'S PROPERTY. you could see it if you just looked down and every time you did, you could feel yourself getting even more turned on.

"focus, sweetie," you could feel some slaps on your face, not harsh but definitely not something you could just ignore. "aww, is your mind drifting further and further away? have i fucked you stupid yet?" you scanned his face and nodded, to which he chuckled under his breath. "well, apparently not, since you're still mindful enough to understand what i'm saying and even answer my question. guess i just have to work harder." and with that he pushed inside you yet again with a force that knocked the wind out of you. if you weren't absolutely sloppily wet from all sorts of fluids, he would've torn you in half. he laughed at your expression; your tongue having fallen out of your mouth as your head had lolled to the side, drool dripping down to the, already wet, sheets. "that's it, we'll get you stupid on my dick, don't worry, my little cock-junkie."

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 8)

tw: like nasty living conditions implied

vote on da poll below ill start writing after 20 votes, next chapter will b focusing on monty

part 9

You can't do it. You can't say no to Yves without going through mental hoops. So you sigh as you let him conquer your room.

You had posters of your favorite artists, but they were all lost in the clutter long ago. It reemerged dusty and damaged, but Yves repaired it the best he could. It looks decent enough to hang.

You watched him cover his mouth in contemplation as he looked around the room, trying to figure out the best place to hang it.

Yves has done more for you than everyone else combined in your life. He cleaned, he cooked, he took care of your sickness, he cleaned you, he fed you, and now he's decorating your room to make it more habitable. All of this and you never said a word, neither protest nor request. You just let him do his thing.

From what you read in the group chat, he also replenished your section of the fridge with groceries.

Your housemate took a picture of the things he bought, all of them were labelled with your name. His handwriting is black marker ink undoubtedly beautiful.

Your housemate did warn him that you're not one for cooking, the perishables could potentially go to waste. He replied that he will be visiting over for the next few days to make your meals. One of them even broke the landlord's rules and gave him a spare key to the front door.

Eventually, Yves found the perfect places to position your posters' forever home. Who knew just the strategic placement of some piece of laminated paper would elevate a room? It looks much better and oddly bigger now... well maybe the latter due to his cleanup.

He clasped his hands and admired his work. As he should.

After that, he turned to you. Which made you jolt out of surprise.

"It's been an hour and a half. Do you still want to eat?" He asked.

You checked the time. He's right, it's now half past eleven. You're not hungry anymore, so you told him that you're full. He nodded and left your room again.

Your housemates blew up the group chat due to another wild Yves sighting around the house. Is this how it's going to be from now on?

This time, you received a picture of him portioning the leftover congee in disposable containers. He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing his lean forearms. You're surprised to see that they were riddled in old scars. It was captioned: "He's freezing the rest"

You squinted and it looks like he's weighing them on an electronic scale. There's a marker pen in this picture.

You sent a message to the group chat asking if he's using his own items.

"I think so??? Idk i have never seen these containers b4" "well theyre not stained yellow yet, he has gotta have these brand new" "yea n hes using rich people sharpies, like none of us here can afford it, all of us get offbrands"

You wonder if he managed to fit them into his handbag.

Yves came back into your room, explaining that the congee will last up to 3 months in the freezer. He also walked you through the steps on how to reheat them by yourself, using the microwave or otherwise. Yves told you not to worry if you couldn't remember what to do, he wrote it down and attached it to the containers- or you could call him instead.

You nodded and waited to see what he would do. Yves seem to be doing the same thing to you for the next few seconds. Eventually though, he deem that you didn't need anything from him at the moment.

"I have to retrieve something from my car." He informed you, walking towards his bag and fishing out his keys. He checked the contents of his thermos cup, it's empty. The metal straw clanked around the walls as he picked it up and carried it with him.

You paid no mind to your housemates' frantic messages enquiring about his departure. You're too tired to care anymore, and you're too tired to know if you actually wanted him here or gone. It's nice to have company for once, but it's from a questionable source.

So you tucked yourself under your blanket and curled up into a ball. Hiding your head under your pillow so you wouldn't need to see Yves when he comes in.

You heard footsteps. And sure enough, Yves is now breathing the same diseased air as you.

But this time, he says nothing. Yves flicked the switch to your lights off and set whatever he has down on your desk.

There was a long period of silence accompanied by the soft sounds of typing. A dim glow from his computer screen illuminated his face and reflected on his reading glasses. He's logging in all the events, the observations and other pieces of data he collected from you today.

Yet you're not awake to see any of it. Blissfully sleeping and snoring away as Yves kept you company throughout the night.

__

You woke up the next morning feeling much better. But still not as healthy as usual. You should be fit enough to go to the university today.

Yves is gone and so are his belongings. However, you found a handwritten note addressed to you on your night stand.

"Your breakfast is in the fridge. Look for a mason jar with your name. It is ready to eat. -Yves"

You stretched and yawned, crumpling the paper and shooting it into the trash can.

You peeled the blanket off yourself and set your feet down onto the floor. That was when you realized he left something on the foot of your bed.

Another note resting on top of a set of neatly folded clothes and a bottle of sunscreen.

"The weather today will be reaching 90⁰F/32.2⁰C, take care of yourself and avoid the sun. -Yves"

The clothes he picked for you were the ones you forgot you had. It was breathable and cooling, but in your daily, personal style. He must have found it yesterday when he did your laundry.

You carried it in your arms and walked to your door to see yet another note- this time it was a folded A4 sized paper, attached to your bag, which looked noticeably lighter and... newer.

"I do not recommend leaving yet. But if you do, I packed an umbrella for you. Please wash your water bottle regularly, it is growing mold. Your bag was full of unnecessary paper scraps, wrappers, food crumbs, and other garbage. I had to hand wash it as I found a dried house lizard pressed between a dictionary and a magazine. Some of the notes and textbooks you carry were not even required for this semester or the next, hence I kept it away on your shelf. Your bag had holes at the bottom and was already falling apart at the seams. I sewed the best I could, but replacing and upgrading is the better option. Be mindful of your belongings.-Yves"

Your face became bright red after reading the last line. You never asked him to do this for you! Why is he judging? He chose to stick around! You don't like being told you're pathetic, directly or indirectly!

Did he really have to underline the word "mold" more than thrice? And why did he switch to red ink for that one word?

You took a deep breath and sighed. Exiting your room to pay a visit to the bathroom.

You were taken aback by the cleanliness. It looked like how it was in the listing, shiny and grime free. The shampoo and soap bottles were arranged neatly with no trace of dark sludge coating it.

There is another note stuck to the mirror.

This time, there were crude drawings depicting penises urinating on your name, no doubt vandalized by your housemates. You went ahead to read what Yves had to say.

"To (name), I replaced your toothbrush as that too, was growing mold. Pay attention to your hygiene or else you will be prone to sickness.- Yves"

There were hearts drawn all around his name, no doubt the culprit was your housemate who took a liking to him.

After taking a shower and changing into your new set of clothes, you left the bathroom to eat breakfast in the kitchen.

You opened the now pristine fridge and sure enough, there is a mason jar with a sticker of your name on its side.

You rotated it to see that he has written something else:

"Banana chia pudding: Chia seeds, almond milk, banana slices, vanilla extract, maple syrup, granola. Gluten-free and lactose-free. Do not heat, eat as is."

You're not sure how to feel about the taste, texture and temperature. It is "sick people" food after all. Perhaps you liked it, perhaps you don't. But you are definitely grateful that you have a free meal from Yves.

One of your housemates entered the kitchen, she greeted you as she began preparing her own meal.

You asked her what time Yves left.

"Beats me. His car was already gone when I woke up at 4am to take a piss. He did leave us a note though."

You asked her what she meant by that.

She shoved her hand in her pant pocket and handed a crumpled piece of paper to you.

"I will visit at 6pm, please take care of (name) for me. -Yves"

You asked where did she find this note.

"Next to the light switch in the living room" She cracked open an egg on her skillet.

You looked at the wall clock. It says 12:03pm

You have around 6 hours left before Yves comes back. There is nothing much to do in your house because the Internet runs at a snail's pace and there is no air conditioning. So you would be boiling in your room.

You think you're well enough to move around and you definitely do not want to spend time with your housemates.

You don't have to go to the university, since your exams are over and so are your classes for the semester. But all the study spots, including the library, have air conditioning.

[romeulusroy]

Succession Preference: Tattooed Baby Sibling

Requested: Hi! Hope you are well! Idk if you're taking requests atm, feel free to ignore this if so! But I was thinking of a preference for The Roy Siblings. In which the reader would be their baby sibling, but they have A LOT of tattoos and maybe how the family reacts to them or or how they deal with that part of their sibling? - anon

A/N: I love this!!! I only have about 30, so idk if I qualify as tattooed person just yet lol, but picturing this is fantastic! Thank you for requesting my love!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Connor comes from a different generation. He's not used to seeing tattoos in the professional world. Knowing this, you keep yourself pretty covered until you can't. It's at Caroline's wedding you shed some layers, letting your skin show in the heat. He's taken aback. He knew you had a few, but you're covered now. You catch him staring, unsure of his emotions, ready to defend yourself like always: they won't stop you from getting a job, they're a freedom of expression and art, they make you feel more at home in your body, some are just funny and others far more sentimental, that it's your money and you can spend it however you want, etc. Instead though, he just gives you a small smile. "I like the one by your elbow, kiddo." He has a lot of questions, like what does it feel like to get them and why you gravitate towards them when others, like him, feel no need. He knows you get enough judgment from your mother and father. He's your biggest brother, he loves you no matter what.

Kendall doesn't really understand them. Like Connor, he has questions, though you're often reverting back to your childhood self when you answer them: totally defensive. You're busy showing them off to Kerry when you catch his attention. There are a few fresh ones, still raised and irritated. It makes his skin hurt just looking at it. You're completely covered now, working on filling in the gaps. He doesn't see the appeal. He thought, like most "phases", you'd grow out of it, but these things are permanent. Forever. It's a big commitment he could never make. What if he likes something today and hates it tomorrow? You assure him you've never felt that way, but if you ever do, it's something you liked once and that's enough. He makes some not so great remarks about professionalism and what happens when you get older, but they're all out of big brother concern. Eventually you tell him that they've never affected your ability to get a job and that they'll look cool just like they do now when you're older. End of discussion. He doesn't hate them, but he doesn't think they're great either, especially you being his baby sibling. He'll never approve.

Shiv has always wanted to get a matching tattoo with you. Something small, delicate, tasteful, probably on her ankle. You make plans for this, but it never happens. You can never agree on what you want. You urge her to hurry up since you're running out of space. She loves them, she thinks they're really cool and also a huge middle finger to your father. You're always eager to show her the newest ones. She wouldn't expect anything less from you. You've been drawing on yourself since you could hold a marker. Every time you came home from school covered in ink your father would order either one of your siblings or one of the nannies to scrub you til skin came off. He barked that this was unacceptable behavior, but it never stopped you from doing it again. Now look at you. She doesn't hold the same fears or beliefs as your brothers. She's under the belief that if it makes you happy, truly happy, and it doesn't kill Logan, then it's fine. Why should anyone try to stop you? It's a tattoo, that's all.

Roman is the least bothered by them. Why would he care? It's not his body. He calls Connor and Kendall old men for being so uptight about it. Does he make fun of you to no end about them? Of course. Oh no y/n, a Chipotle bag threw up all over you! Looks like you've still got some unused space right. . . there. Where's Waldo am I right? If I can find the end of the maze do I get a prize? He has a habit of poking fresh tattoos and feigning ignorance, too. How am I supposed to know what's new and what's not? He also loves to point out new ones to your mother and father, who both despise them. Oops, did I do that? He runs away before you can hit him. He understands, while also an aesthetic thing, it's about pain, too. There's something satisfying about the needle that you can't get anywhere else. That noise, the constant poking, the radiating ache. He gets it. You all have to do what you gotta do to get by. A need to go back, this inner wanting for the pain again. It's socially acceptable and you get permanent art to go along with it. Win-win.

[galacticwarpedlense]

Tattoos

I saw a picture with one of the bachelors with a tattoo and now that got me thinking of all the bachelors with tattoos.

Of all the characters, I think the ones that would absolutely NEVER get tattoos would be like Penny (she's very VERY traditional so I don't think she'd want them but it would be friggin hilarious to see this hyper-traditional woman tatted out), Maru (Idk, it just doesn't seem like something she would want) and Harvey (He's a doctor, he knows ink in your body isn't healthy). And maaaaaybe Sam (He seems like he would be a baby with pain or afraid of needles).

The rest, I can see getting some.

Abigail and Sebastian would probably get a decent amount of tattoos as they get older. Dare I say, Abigail would get more. Like an entire sleeve of alt tattoos. Skulls, bones, roses, quotes, funky little designs. All the Alt shit. And if you dare say anything about the tattoos being permanent, she will roast you.

Seb on the other hand may have some back tattoos and arm tattoos, not an entire sleeve but more dispersed, each showing how his style evolves while staying somewhat related. Like a story. And if they are black and white tattoos, you bet that he's letting any future children of his doodle the shit out of those tattoos with their little markers.

Elliott...A part of me knows, he probably wouldn't get tattoos either because of the cost or the reputation but also I am a simp for the idea of the writer man having some sort of book quote that he found inspirational on his collarbone so he can wake up in the morning and see it in the mirror every day. And you can't take that away from me. Ever.

Even if Emily and Haley don't get along and seem like opposites, I feel like their tattoos would be very similar. Like very flowery and cute and on their wrist or something and when they realize they have the same tattoo it's like they have witty banter about who copied who.

Leah, just artsy shit. Artsy shit everywhere. Arms, legs, back. Just little artsy tattoos everywhere with little correlation. Fuck it, this bitch MADE her own tattoos. If not the tattoo itself then at least the design.

Alex, I'm indecisive. I can see him not having any tattoos. But also a big tattoo on his arm of the name of his spouse sounds like the cheesy but kinda dumb thing he would do. Lucky him, we're using a scenario where the farmer doesn't dump him so it's a nice romantic gesture.

Shane would probably have tattoos from his past. If the beta versions of Shane were anything to go by, he seemed to be almost Alex-like in his youth so he would probably be pretty impulsive (especially at the start of whatever made him so depressed as he tries to do things to feel better) and get a few tats that now are a reflection of his past.

[papermonkeyism]

People appear to be complaining how prohibitively expensive it is to make art, and here I'm just reflecting on my years as an art student, one of many broke ass weirdoes, who did art on whatever they could get their broke ass art student hands on including literal garbage.

And, like. Sure, if you want to fancy it up, but it's not like you need anything fancy to make stuff, even professional quality. I've drawn 276 pages worth of actual comic with these cheap ass pencils you can buy a dosen with like two euros, on this cheap ass paper no self respecting art or hobby store is going to even acknowledge enough to sneer at. The most expensive component of Wurr was the ten euros I paid for a refill ink bottle for the black copic marker I used for all the panel borders and solid blacks, and I've had that same copic and ink since 2009, so I think it's paid itself back in the long run. It still got plenty of ink left.

I know it's a common excuse, that one can't become a good artist without expensive professional materials, but that's more often than not just an excuse to put off doing the work.

I'm a qualified professional, three art schools and a Bachelor's degree, and I have made paintings with coffee, just becaise it was at hand at the time.

[ieatsmallorphansnamedtom]

Stardew Bachelor/Bachelorette Halloween Costumes!

In celebration of the start of spooky season, I compiled a list of what I think the Stardew bachelors and bachelorettes would wear for their trick or treating! I know they have Spirit's Eve, but I'm yet to see connections to that holiday and costume wearing (if someone does have anything do hit me up).



Bachelors:

Sam

He's either going as a video game character or something classic like a clown. Either way, he looks like he's just come back from a night of killing. Tons, and I mean TONS, of fake blood everywhere. It doesn't even look authentic at that point; it just looks like he's dipped himself in a bucket of red paint. He'd have to have a second costume for when Vincent is around, hence the video game character. He's a whole cupboard full of Prairie King merchandise and costumes.



Elliott

Some infamous historical figure/legend. Think Sweeney Todd. He's always dressed like he came straight from the Victorian era in London, so you best believe he's got some cool costumes he just wears on the regular. Also, the acting is dialed up to 100%. Some townies (mostly Alex) can't even understand what he's saying because he uses a combination of Shakespearian, cockney rhyming slang, and drunken slurs.



Sebastian

Vampire, skeleton, or both. Lots of effort was put into his, so it looks really good. It's mostly made of up cycled old costumes and random merchandise he has. He went to Emily for a lot of help with actually putting it together, and it paid off! He spends most of the night trying to sneak up on Sam and scare him (which he does well). Lots of fun Sebastian times and scared Sam times.



Harvey

His costume is pretty tame. Honestly, he's just a more stereotypical doctor. He's not all too creative with these things. But when the farmer comes along, he tries stepping it up with a pilot outfit! A more historical one, of course. He does not have the money to go out and buy a whole suit for these modern uniforms. Some of the stuff is a bit old, seeing as it was mostly outfits from many years ago, but he still looks cute.



Shane

If it weren't for Jas, he's going as a bedsheet ghost. Not even holes cut out for the eyes, just crudely scribbled on magic marker ink. But Jas wants to be a princess, so he's going to be her knight in shining cardboard armor. Jas and Emily spent hours making it, and for what it's worth with its mounds of silver glitter, it looks pretty good! Shane swapped out his sword for a glorified pool noodle and is hitting whoever annoys him under the excuse 'it fits his character.'



Alex

Gridball player, but zombie. Halfway through makeup with Haley she realised he was using actual paint, not face paint. Cue them both panicking and rushing to get it off his face. A little bit of paint got on her floor and now he's doing all her chores for a week. But for the costume, he took great care not to get paint on his helmet. If he could, he'd wait days until he's certain the paint has dried and most 'damage' it. He's having the time of his life in it, living out his literally dead dream (being a zombie and all).'



Bachelorettes:

Penny

Queen of the Junimos! It's got a very floral design and is pretty light. Bell-shaped skirt and sleeveless top. Lots of green, but also little bits of oranges and yellows to fit the season she'll be wearing it. Haley went crazy when she asked for help with her makeup and spent hours and hours making sure it looked perfect. She looks like she came straight out of a fairy tale.



Leah

Some sort of mythological forest being. Probably some sort of tree person. Either her outfit is lowkey high-key very revealing, or a straight up tree with a hole for her head. That, or something very weird and mixed media. She's trying to get the feel of a personification of her sculptures.



Abigail

Dead Red Riding Hood. Blood everywhere. It looks like someone murdered her violently in her sleep. She also has one of those fake knives that can retract into itself to make it look like she stabbed someone. That, or Sebastian hid some packets of fake blood in his jacket and Abi comes swinging at it with her sword. They both got in massive trouble and nearly killed Harvey, but it was worth it.



Maru

Alien! But hers is actually based off what aliens would look like under different planets with different environments. Each year is something new, and every time she looks amazing. She's even wired some electricity in some of them to make flashing lights or to equip a voice box inside. It's super stuffy though, so she's taking it off after a few hours for a break.



Emily

Her outfit is less of a costume more of her having fun making the most extreme clothing possible. Two-and-a-half rainbows of colours only visible to shrimp. She is the easiest to spot by far, having giant accessories. Each costume is based off a different animal, but her favourite is birds because she gets to use a ton of feathers.



Haley

A ghost! She's dressed in her best clothing; all white and grey. Her makeup took the whole day to do, and it paid off! She is by far the most beautiful townie and looks absolutely ethereal. She and Emily also came up with a fun backstory for her new ghost self, and when drunk Elliott hears it, he loses it entirely (in a good way). Little bits of glitter everywhere so she shines in the moonlight.

[riyangiis]

I LOVE FILO ZB1 CONTENT SMMMM i usually have these random thoughts in my head abt what the members would be like as filos AND BRO for me ricky is definitely englishero. specifically those kinds that are fluent in tagalog but just prefer speaking in english

actually ricky is so me what the heck.. 😬😬 HE DEF LISTENS TO HEV ABI😬😬😬 it's either he's conyo and is horrible at filipino or he's just what you described him.. this guy is a bgc boy you can't say no

I think I would still keep the chinese and american in him😂😂.. guys guys what if he's a chinese-filipino that grew up in the us and has little to no knowledge abt the philippines.. bro when he gets there he would be THE airport crush wtf.. his parents told him that he should try to go to a public school but he's concerned and worried that he might get made fun of.. A LOT. so he goes to a private school first, then goes to public once he's able to speak filipino properly and stuff but he's only gonna stay there for a year..

bro def goes like "what's the orange ball with the little egg inside?" LMAOOOO🤣🤣🤣🙏🙏⁉️⁉️ he cringes at those err what do you call them.. the genggeng boys😬 they often tell him to try and hangout with them but he just.. ignores them.. "kumaldag ka nga!!" "wtf is a kaldag??"

bro tries so hard not to show off in the days where you're able to wear civilian clothes instead of the uniform but does it anyway.. "bat may lalaking mukhang pupunta sa party.." he even ricky-fies his own uniform and makes it look richer and more classy than it was originally supposed to be.. ehh you get it

def the guy that has EVERYTHING you need for a project, he doesn't really do anything except make the art and have the supplies.. "gaga nawala ung ink ng marker!" *biglang may 7 na marker, bago pa..* the main reason why he doesn't really do anything in the project because his group mates find it hard to communicate with him since his first languages are english and chinese and when he speaks filipino, he has this weird accent..

he knows how to speak filipino naman, it's just that accent that messes everything up.. medyo insecure siya abt it so he just doesn't speak at all. he also doesn't understand kanal humor AT ALL so his classmates don't really like his type of humor.. when he found out that he actually has english-speaking classmates with aircon humor, he tried his best to befriend him but they thought he was weird or didn't want to become friends with him since they thought he was some rich spoiled kid who knows nothing but money.. heck people even used him because of his wealthy status and got hold of the fact that he likes giving gifts to people he's close with..

he's famous around the school just for his looks, nothing else. when he thought his popularity would give him an advantage to get more friends and have a good image. he caught girls trying to sneak gifts or trying to state at him, he thought that this whole thing was making him uncomfortable but he can't do anything though. that's only gonna ruin his reputation. so he didn't mind and ignored the admirers, they're not really his business anyways. he knows he's handsome, he doesn't have to show it off at all times.

he stopped trying to make friends in his school and just sticked to doing his hobbies when he was bored and continued talking to his friends from china and usa, the others just viewed him as some rich kid anyway. the teacher assigned a project that needs a partner for the class, everyone gets to pick their own partner. he looks around with people debating on who should be their partner. he just continued drawing whatever was in his mind waiting for some unfortunate person to have no choice but be partners with him (to his admirers it's very fortunate to be partners with him.. you can see them fighting on who should be his partner, ricky is just enjoying the thought of being alone with no one disturbing him.

ricky suddenly felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. he looked up to see someone, is it an admirer?

"hello? can I be your partner?"

"huh? oh, sure.."

his attention is now on you instead of the drawing of a rose, ricky was caught off guard because of how.. quick this person asked to be his partner without being shy or nervous. he looked at the group of admirers, now fuming because he already has a partner.

(medyo inaccurate ito sorry😭😭)

[solradguy]

hello solradguy! as someone who is interested in learning how to translate japanese, i was wondering what your approach was to learning japanese! did you go in knowing you wanted to translate writing, and focus your efforts on reading? or did you try to learn all aspects of it at once (ie audio recognition, speaking, pitch accent, etc)

I started learning it because, at the time (2015), I was still doing art in mostly analog formats and a lot of really good inking supplies came exclusively from Japan with fully Japanese packaging. It was really frustrating having to rely on machine translation to figure out things like replacing pen cartridges or pen nibs upkeep/maintenance. My focus then was reading and I never really shifted from that; I can't verbally speak it and my audio recognition is only marginally better haha

Translating Guilty Gear stuff sort of happened by accident, and improved my Japanese more than anything else I was using to study with (which was mostly Duolingo, Wanikani, and Tofugu articles 😬). I couldn't find anyone else that was actively working on getting stuff into English and there was a massive backlog of official literature that hadn't even been so much as scanned, so I was like "Well, if no one else is gonna do it..." lmao It later turned out that there was stuff that had been translated, it was just kinda stashed away on niche websites or Discord servers.

Artworks of Guilty Gear X 2000-2007 captions were my first non-Japanese workbook translation project and got me to really start taking my Japanese studies seriously. There weren't files of pretty much any of the illustrations in that book online that were in decent quality. It was actually faster/easier just scanning a page (at the time) than manually cleaning and upscaling one.

This was the very first Guilty Gear thing I ever scanned (March '22) and the caption that went with it:

They’re half-realistically drawn here. At the time, I wanted to pursue texture in my drawings and used many thick layers of Copic markers to try to achieve that. I don’t think it was pointless, but if it’s going to take too much time to do such things, acrylic paints would be better. - Cover of the August 2000 issue of Arcadia Monthly.

It's a lot clunkier than how I would translate it now haha I've improved so much since then...

I used to physically write out the captions and translate them in a notebook. Here's how the first pass of this caption went:

They were only half realistically drawn. At that time I wanted to pursue texture in my drawings, so I used a thick coat of Copic marker. I don't think it's "pointless," but if it's going to take too much time to pursue such things, I think acrylic would be better.

It's fun going through this notebook and seeing these old translations. Eventually I got good enough at doing it in my head that I stopped writing them out, but sometimes really long sentences still trip me up. Japanese word order.......

These days I get most of my practice by doing Renshuu flashcards/games and reading posts by my Japanese mutuals over on Twitter. Even though I'm still actively translating GG stuff, the projects have gotten much bigger and there isn't anything left that's like the Artworks 2007 captions that I could whip out in about an hour anymore, it's all long paragraphs or manga dialog.

I still don't have much desire to practice speaking or listening skills because I would never get any use out of them where I live in the Midwest USA—they'd get rusty fast if I didn't practice religiously. But I do handle Japanese text very often and am fine with focusing 100% of my study time on just reading/writing instead.

[movementsofmylife]

bad buddy ep 6 (rewatch)

how many times does pran pull out his entire (extremely intense) set of markers and not use them:

total so far: //// (what this counter is actually making me realize is that i am overly obsessed with stationery and pran pulls out his markers a reasonable amount)

this episode is soooo much. it feels like it ramps up and up and then the ending with the competition doesn't resolve anything but keeps the emotions and potential open for next ep.

ok so i have an entire partially written story about how the entire trajectory of their relationship would have gone differently if pran had answered this knock. but i also think that's the premise of the whole episode. pran had so many chances to talk to pran, to talk to wai, to do basically anything other than keep everything to himself, but his anxiety and fear simply would not let him.

and i also think part of it is that pran is used to holding these feelings to himself. sharing it, even with pat, can feel worse than wallowing alone. and like, obvs there's fear (considering the consequences of last time he thought about sharing any of these feelings with pat) but i think by the end of the eps it's clear that part of pran's witholding is that there's a certain kind of pleasure you lose when an emotion becomes public. (i am so certain i read a post about this before, but i cannot find it)

case in point the wallowing. there's a comfort in familiar pain.

and in this situation extremely understandable anxiety about pursuing anything.

but the fact that he's doing all this in blue, surrounded by more blue says something here i feel about his state of mind. it's not doom green, it's more like a need to pause and be in these emotions by himself.

the difference between the first time pat tries to grab pran, and the last! i love prallels, circles, snake eating its own tail etc. and this show delivers so many.

okok so. i don't think this is a hot take, but i have a lukewarm take, that pran should have told wai about the situation here.

like, there's no homophobia in bb universe, so that isn't what's holding him back. this is his best friend (annoying as he sometimes is) and i think part of pran's growth is learning to trust someone outside of himself with his emotions.

and obviously that becomes pat, but i think it could have been great if it was wai too. (like he's literally holdinng/wearing his love on his sleeves here, and i think wai can tell somethings up and that's part of the tension of the ep. and i think pat's insistence of "talk to me" is something that everyone in pran's life probably understands to some extent.)

to be clear, this is not a wai apologist post, there's not really any reason to out someone ever, esp not the way wai did it. but i also do enjoy him as a character, he's such a goblin.

this room is just so patpran core, how have i never noticed. this show had zero chill.

i also love this. the nong nao in the corner and the fucking red boat. once more this show has no chill.

i love pa's continued everyone must like ink agenda. obviously who wouldn't like ink? (not her though, that makes no sense)

god the fucking yearning.

jr and uncle tong!!! fully in patpran colors, like the supportive family that they are.

so, these are my favourite outfits from the entire show. i love the seersucker and this large print.

and this fucking resource game. the line "just give in if you can't do it anymore" while slowly losing what ground they have, and inevitably falling. just truly fuck me up.

like truly. ohmnanon deserve everything for what they delivered here.

also pran is fully the scarier one of patpran. which both in terms of sheer willingness and ability to manipulate lol but also we see pran get mad so many more times than pat. pat is mad a total of twice, ep 5 and ep 10. pran tells his friends to fuck off like so many more times. truly living up to pran the warrior.

idk if they meant to shoot this to look like a dreamscape of an idyllic patpran future life, but it certainly looks like one. also the fact that there's doom green shirt over the blue on pran and it comes off later after the market scene when they finally got time to themselves for the first time after everything. (those two min on the beach of pran yelling at pat does not count)

they're so happy to be called a couple! my babies!

pat getting to have the clearing the air conversation pa suggested in ep 2 (?) which i think was necessary for them to later on have a conversation about the future. or at least make up a ridiculous game to find a way to that future.

and then finally! finally!!! we get pran in his own colors, for the first time in the whole ep. he finally got to be himself after spending a day reconciling with pat. :')

also the fact that they clearly expected to be placed into a room together, and when the universe finally stopped throwing them together (the universe being pat's decisions for at least half of them) pran finally takes a step forward.

this still remains one of the funniest scenes of the show

pran is clearly a scorpio in some planet and i'm calling venus. bc i'm a scorpio venus and i have friends who are and this is the kind of shit that comes out of our mouths. sometimes you just have to be the most esoteric bitch on the beach.

this show is so good at making what we all know is an inevitability at this point (patpran getting together) feel like a suspenseful journey. it's simply marvelously executed.

and then it ended on this and i felt no peace for an entire week.

i fully wrote a fucking essay and honestly i could just keep going about this episode, its such a good episode!!! like the fact that pran uses the headphones pat gave him to listen to his heartbreak music, if that's not the most emo shit. but i will stop.

[jimkirkpining]

It begins when Louis asks Claudia that one fateful question.

-

Or, perhaps it begins before that. Perhaps it begins on the day Lestat shoves the last of his boxes into his stupid flashy sports car and peels out of the driveway. Perhaps it begins even before that, when the arguments start getting vicious and nasty, hissed under their breaths so Claudia can't hear. Perhaps it begins in the hospital on the day that tiny wriggling bundle is put into Lestat's arms for the first time and all three of them are bawling. Perhaps it begins seven months before, when Lestat staggers out of the bathroom, ashen-faced and shaking and terrified, clutching that little plastic stick.

Or perhaps it was inevitable from the very start, and really it all begins when their eyes meet across a crowded dorm corridor and Lestat pushes through the throng of drunk strangers to tug on Louis' cloak and waggle his eyebrows and try and deliver a Dracula quote through a pair of terrible dollar-store fangs.

-

At any rate, the moment Louis can really pinpoint the start of it all at the end of October when he asks Claudia what she wants to do for Christmas. 

It's perhaps a little early to start planning, but for the last five years he and Lestat have alternated between who takes Claudia for her birthday and who takes her for christmas, and as Claudia's birthday is at the end of November, if he does need to organise another nightmare of a princess party, he'd rather start doing it in advance. Also, Claudia will be seven this year, and last week Marie forwarded him an article about the importance of agency in choice for young girls - honestly, his brain had switched off after the fourth parenting buzzword in as many sentences, but he did remember that choices were very important - so he wants to give her options.

Claudia kicks her heels against the legs of the stool and chews thoughtfully on the end of her marker; there's a big smudge of red ink over her bottom lip and down her chin from where she'd put the wrong end in her mouth.

"I will have to think about it," she says, with all the solemnity a nearly-seven-year-old can muster, and then she goes back to drawing and watching Frozen for the tenth time that week, and for the moment, that is that.

It takes a while for her to get back to him. He’d half wondered if she’d forgotten, but to his surprise, two days later, halfway through dinner, she shovels a forkful of waffles into her mouth and says, “I know what I want to do for Christmas.”

Actually, it comes out sounding more like “ah-dohwha-ah-wantah-dofah-chrimah”, and he interrupts her on autopilot without even thinking, “Don’t speak with your mouth full.”

She scowls but complies, chewing industriously then swallowing. She announces, “Daddy, I know what I want to do for christmas.”

“Hmm?”

Claudia nods, “I want to go to Gab-Gab’s cabin with you and Papa.”

Louis’ heart sinks.

Claudia had only been two years old when the split happened. For the most part, Louis is very glad of this; she has no memory of the awful, angry, bitter days of her early life, no memory of the stifling tension, the misery, the tears and accusations. She only knows of the cool polite distance between her fathers. She only knows them as two men who interact as little as possible twice a week when they drop her off and pick her up, working together to raise her completely separately. She’d asked him, once, why he and Lestat don’t live together like the parents of her friends do, and he’d been able to satisfy her with the response that, well, for some parents it’s just easier that way. Which is the truth, even if he knows it’s somewhat a cop-out.

She has no reason to believe that her request is anything other than a great idea, and Louis’ heart breaks at the thought of having to disappoint her.

He takes a bite of his own dinner to stall, desperately trying to find a compromise situation to give her almost what she wants, but get him out of having to spend the whole festive season - the most stressful time of the year - with Lestat - the most stressful person he knows.

Claudia watches him owlishly, blue-green eyes big and hopeful. He sighs.

“I’ll have to talk to Gabs about it,” he says, trying to stay firm even as her face lights up, “it’s her cabin, so it’s up to her.”

“Can we call her tonight?” Claudia asks eagerly, bouncing in her chair. Louis holds up a hand.

“I’ll call her later,” he points at her plate. “You finish your dinner.”

As Louis watches Claudia work through the rest of her food, practically glowing with excitement, his heart aches in his chest. 

He's not delusional; he knows that he and Lestat breaking up was the best choice for a bad situation, and that staying together would have only made everything worse. He knows that Claudia is happy and well-adjusted. He can't help but wish, though, that things could have been different - that maybe they could have tried harder to save things, been more flexible, or more understanding. He wishes Claudia didn't have to split her week between them, dividing her time between two different households and what must seem like two different lives to such a young child. 

Despite all of this, however, when he calls Gabs later in the evening once Claudia is in bed, he finds himself guiltily hoping - and he does genuinely feel bad about it - that there will be some completely unavoidable circumstance that isn’t anyone’s fault at all that will mean they can’t possibly go up to the cabin. Though… well, he knows Gabs. Life may have turned her into a prickly, intimidating, closed-off person with a glare like being hit in the face with a brick, but she is utterly devoted to her granddaughter. If getting Claudia to the cabin for Christmas meant moving a mountain, Gabs would just pick up a shovel and start digging. 

Most of the time, it’s endearing. Now? Less so. 

Louis settles himself into the corner of the couch with a sigh and hits the dial button. There's every chance that she might not even pick up; Gabs is decidedly not a fan of technology, or even the indoors. Lestat once affectionately compared her to Ron Swanson. 

The phone rings for a few seconds, and then the call is answered. Oh well, Louis thinks, disappointed.

"Bonsoir, Louis. Ça va?"

"Ça va bien, thanks, and yourself?"

"Not bad," Gabs pauses. Louis can hear rustling, and wind, like she's walking outside. "Is there something you need?"

Louis can't help but smile. Gabs is one person he never has to bother with smalltalk around, and he does genuinely appreciate that about her. And despite her brusqueness, there's something comforting about hearing her voice - Lestat had worked hard to ditch his french accent when his career picked up, but she still has hers, and in a weird way it reminds him of his father. Gabs’ voice sounds like family.

"I was just wondering about your plans for Christmas."

Gabs hums, rumbling through the receiver. "Can't say I have any at the moment. Why?"

"Claudia asked if we could go to the cabin."

There's a pause, "I see. And who is 'we'?"

She knows! Of course she knows. Gabs is basically a mind-reader. Louis cringes.

"Her, myself, yourself…" he squeezes his eyes shut, "and Lestat."

There's another pause. And then she snorts.

“Well. Were you hoping I’d have some great excuse as to why it can't work?” She drawls.

Louis grimaces, “Of course not.”

“You’re a terrible liar. And unfortunately for you, I’ve got no excuses to offer. It would be lovely to have you all over for Christmas… provided that you and Lestat can behave."

“We're adults,” Louis says, vaguely affronted. She has a point, but still - that point is for him to agonise over endlessly in his own head, not for her to use against him! 

Gabrielle snorts again, “Oh, and you weren't adults three years ago when you two got into it at Claudia's birthday party?”

Louis’ mouth drops open in indignation, even as second-hand embarrassment over the memory makes his cheeks flush. “Look-” he says, flustered, “look-”

“I'm not accusing you of anything, Louis,” Gabs jumps in quickly, voice no longer teasing but weary now, “I just don't want it to be fucking miserable, okay? For Claudia’s sake.”

And as always, Gabs has cut right to the root of the issue. Louis swallows, running a hand down his face, leaning his head back on the sofa and sullenly studying the ceiling. 

“I know. I just… I want her to be happy,” he says.

Gabs sighs, “I know. We all do,” There’s a pause, and Louis can hear the crunch of her boots as she walks through dead leaves. “Talk to Lestat, see what he thinks.”

“That was my next plan, yes.”

He doesn’t admit how reluctant he is to do it, but then again, he probably doesn’t have to.

“He might surprise you,” Gabs says quietly, after a moment.

"That's exactly what I'm worried about," Louis grumbles.

-

It takes a whole day to work up the energy to call Lestat, and even then, he only forces himself to because Lestat will be picking Claudia up from school this afternoon and he has a lurking suspicion that if Claudia mentions it first Lestat might - god forbid - make an impulse decision that Louis will be stuck with the consequences of. 

He texts and messages Lestat with relative regularity these days, because co-parenting separately takes quite a bit of organisation. If anyone were to ask him, he would admit that he's rather proud of how they work as two independent halves of one team; Claudia is fed, clothed, supervised, transported, parented, and loved as much as any other child, and has grown into a smart, responsible, genuinely delightful girl, if perhaps a little precocious. 

From a purely practical perspective, they work brilliantly together - just so long as their relationship doesn’t get personal. Personal is when the problems start again.

He waits until Claudia is at school to make the call, because he’s honestly not sure how well it’s likely to go; he sits in his desk chair in his little home office, feet kicked up, and distractedly scrolling through his work emails, as he holds his phone to his ear and waits for Lestat to pick up.

“Oh, hey,” Lestat says, sounding surprised. “Everything alright?”

It’s fair for Lestat to be a little concerned, Louis supposes. The last time Louis called him out of the blue in the middle of the day was last year, when Claudia had been sent to the principal’s office for biting another kid, and Louis hadn’t been able to come and pick her up. 

If he remembers rightly, Lestat took her out for ice cream.

“Oh, yes, sorry, it’s fine, I just, uh-” Louis grimaces at his reflection in his laptop screen and runs a hand through his hair, “I just thought we should sort out what we’re doing for christmas.”

Lestat groans, “Is it that time of year again already? God. Okay, well… you had Claudia with you last christmas, so I’ll take her this year, and drop her back off on the 30th?”

“She said she wanted to go to the cabin.”

“Ah, that’s a good idea, I’ll talk to Gabs and-”

“No.” Louis pinches the bridge of his nose, “She wants us all to go to the cabin.”

Lestat is silent for several moments. Louis sips at that morning’s coffee; it's tepid now, but he's so full of tense energy he needs something to do.

“We can make that work,” Lestat says. 

Louis blinks, nearly dropping his mug, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Lestat’s tone is determined, almost defensive. “Yeah, if it’s what Claudia wants then let’s do it."

Louis sets the mug down and covers his face with his hand, "Lestat, have you actually thought about what this will entail? The cabin is nearly a two day drive - there and back - so we'll have to stay at least four days to make the journey worth it. That's eight days, minimum."

"What are you saying?" Lestat snaps.

They're not even in the same room and it's already turning into an argument, Louis thinks, clenching his jaw. There's no way they can survive over a week without making things 'fucking miserable'.

"I'm saying," Louis tries to make his voice as soothing and non-confrontational as possible - the voice he uses when a client starts freaking out on him, "that you and I do not exactly have the best track record when we're together."

Lestat does actually stop and consider that, rather than just flying into a defensive rage, which is honestly more than Louis was expecting.

"If this is Claudia's christmas wish," Lestat says, voice quiet but certain, "then I'm going to make it work."

Claudia's christmas wish. Louis rolls his eyes. He's as sentimental as the next gay man, but he also knows that their daughter is six - last year's 'christmas wish' had been to go to Disneyworld to meet Queen Elsa, and/or to adopt four puppies, neither of which had happened, and both of which she'd utterly forgotten by christmas day in all the excitement.

But… if Lestat has said yes, and Gabs has said yes, that means that if he says no for no other reason than ‘I really really really don't want to’, it makes him the bad guy of the situation. He tries to imagine breaking it to her, watching her little face fall in disappointment, knowing that it’s entirely because of him.

Fuck.

Louis closes his eyes. He tries to exhale the tension out and just accept his fate.

“Alright then. Let’s… let’s make it work.”

He hears a sharp little gasp over the phone. It sounds like excitement. Despite himself - despite everything - it makes Louis smile.

“I’ll handle the travel arrangements,” Lestat says quickly, “I know a good route that’ll give us plenty of places to stop along the way, and there’s an amazing hotel that’s just a perfect distance to hit at the end of the first day!”

The smile drops. The thought of Lestat taking any major part in the planning makes anxiety immediately shoot through Louis, the tension flooding back in. 

Look, he has a therapist, he knows that his need to control situations stems from a deep-rooted fear of failure stemming from bad parenting, and he knows that Lestat’s need for control is to mask his eternal terror over being abandoned, also due to bad parenting. It’s always been a source of discord between them. He knows that. But there’s a big difference between knowing it and knowing how to deal with it. His therapist has suggested that he try allowing Lestat to take over little tasks, to practise; letting Lestat pick the time that he’ll drop Claudia off, letting him take the lead in discussions about her birthday presents, that sort of thing.

This isn’t a little thing, though. Louis tightens his grip around the phone, staring at his reflection in his laptop screen. He doesn’t want to give in. He’s already conceded a lot in the conversation by agreeing to do this in the first place. He doesn’t want to let go of the planning too.

“Lestat-” he says, and Lestat must hear something in his tone, because he immediately jumps in.

“Trust me.”

Louis closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. He tries to think about what exactly he trusts Lestat with.

Claudia’s safety, he trusts Lestat with that; despite his thrill-seeking lifestyle during their college days, Lestat has never taken unreasonable risks with their daughter’s safety and wellbeing - that Louis knows of, at least. He trusts that Lestat would never willingly put her in danger. There's no way he'd allow Lestat to have custody of her for half the week if he didn't trust that Lestat would keep her safe and well.

Claudia’s happiness, that’s another thing he trusts Lestat with; again, there's no way Louis would let her out of his sight if he didn't genuinely trust Lestat with this. When she was a toddler and her face would crease in that tell-tale way, bottom lip beginning to quiver, Lestat seemed to have a sixth sense for knowing exactly how to swoop in and cheer her up, and nothing about what Claudia has told him about her time at Papa's house indicates that that has changed.

Louis trusts Lestat with the car; Lestat has always had a weird macho thing about cars, has always been meticulous about keeping any he owns in perfect condition. Louis isn't particularly impressed by the obnoxious sporty beast Lestat drives nowadays, but he does at least trust that Lestat will ensure it can get them to the cabin.

And ultimately, Louis thinks, reluctantly, he can trust Lestat with this journey; Lestat bought Gabs the cabin nearly fifteen years ago, at the peak of his teenage pop-idol fame, so he knows the roads around it and the route up very, very well. The drive will be simple, and Lestat will know the best places to stop if Claudia needs a break, and whatever this hotel is that Lestat has mentioned will be hideously overpriced and needlessly ostentatious, but if he's honest, Louis would rather that than a sleazy shitty motel on the roadside, anyday.

Realistically, letting Lestat be in charge of the journey will be… well, probably fine?

And that’s the worst part; knowing that if something goes wrong - and historically, when Lestat tries to plan things, they do - it won’t be for lack of trying. It won’t be for lack of wanting, or lack of heart. It’ll be because of some tiny but vital detail that got missed, that Louis knows he would have caught if he’d been allowed to plan it, and Louis will have to look between Claudia’s devastation and Lestat’s mortification and guilt, and he’ll have to find some way to fix everything. As usual.

Trust me.

Louis doesn’t want to trust him. But he does know, begrudgingly, that this trip is going to take a lot of compromise, and that Lestat will likely be less hideously insufferable if he feels like he has something that he gets to be in charge of.

“Fine,” Louis says, before he can second-guess himself and drive this conversation back towards a fight. “But this is Claudia’s christmas wish-” god, he cannot believe he is using that as leverage, “so you know-”

“Everything has to be perfect,” Lestat cuts in, “I know. I’ll make sure of it.”

Famous last words, Louis thinks, glumly, as he hangs up.

-

Marie comes over for dinner every friday. The official reason is to make sure she gets to spend regular time with Claudia, but Louis knows it’s at least partly to do free washing and get away from her housemates. She may be an adult now, and she may have started her postgrad, but she’s still a student, and she’s still his baby sister. 

She collects Claudia from school and brings her home, and the two of them are engrossed in something on Marie’s Switch when Louis gets back from a meeting and starts on dinner. Later, after Claudia’s gone to bed, he and Marie settle down on the couch. She swings her legs up and drops her feet into his lap, and after several rounds of him shoving them away and her kicking him in the stomach, she wins, though he uses her legs as a coffee table in retaliation.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says, without preamble. 

Louis immediately responds, “Don’t hurt yourself.” She kicks him again, he wordlessly threatens to empty his bottle of drink over her head, she sticks her tongue out - and then the conversation continues.

“I’ve been thinking that you should start a blog.”

Louis wrinkles his nose, “You mean be a - what do they call them - a Mummyblogger?” He grimaces, “Daddyblogger? Oh god, that’s worse.”

“No,” Marie snorts, “I mean… You could if you wanted to, I guess, but I’m talking about book reviews.”

“Book reviews?”

“Yeah,” Marie pulls her feet away and sits up properly, animated in her excitement, “You read so much, and the other day when you recommended that book to me you wrote such a nice, pithy little summary, it got me thinking - you should start a book review blog! You’d be really good at it! And it might help scratch that writing itch.”

Louis sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Mimi, you know I haven’t written in years… with Claudia and my job I just don’t have time.”

“But Claudia’s started school, and you only have her half the week,” Marie protests, “And it’s not like you have a social life now you’ve broken up with Armand and you don’t have to hang out with his weird theatre crowd anymore.”

“Hey,” Louis points a finger at her, “First of all, ouch, I do have a social life, thank you. And second of all, we broke up, but that was over a year ago and we’re still friends, so you don’t get to be mean about Armand.”

“Armand was an asshole and the theatre crowd were super weird. It’s not mean if it’s a fact.”

Louis shakes his head, exasperated, but knowing he won’t be able to change her mind, “I actually heard from him the other day - can you believe that he’s dating one of my exes?”

“Which one?” Marie asks, slouching back against the armrest again and pushing her feet back into Louis’ lap, “You’ve dated, like, four guys, and one of them was Armand.”

“Well… I’m not sure if he really counts as an ex, we only went on one date,” Louis grimaces, “It was terrible, I talked about myself the whole time, it was more like an interview than a date. Anyway, at the end of it he still asked for my number, and I, uh,” Louis cringes further, “I accidentally gave him Armand’s.”

“What!” Marie exclaims, laughing disbelievingly, “How?”

“I don’t know! Anyway, it worked out, because they’ve been dating for three months now. Armand texted me last week to thank me for setting them up. Apparently he’s under the impression that I did it deliberately.”

Marie sniggers, “That’s probably for the best, he already has enough dirt on you, he doesn’t need to realise you’re an idiot too,” there’s a buzzing noise from somewhere near her and she jumps, “Oh, speaking of texts.”

After several moments of searching each pocket, and then under each cushion in her immediate vicinity, she locates her phone and checks it. Immediately, she pulls a face. Louis knows that face. 

“Is that…?”

“Yeah, it’s mom,” Marie sighs, “You know she’s been dropping hints about wanting to see Claudia at christmas again?"

Louis’ heart drops into his stomach. He fiddles with the label on his bottle, "And has she…?"

"Changed in any way, shape, or form? Not a chance."

Louis exhales shakily, staring down at the bottle in his hands. It’s something called kombucha - he doesn’t know what it is, but it’s big at the moment so there’d been a promotion on and he thought he’d try a pack. He hates it, although unfortunately he feels too guilty to pour them all away, so he’s stuck drinking his way through them. 

Staring down at it, their mother brought so abruptly into the conversation, a traitorous part of him fleetingly wishes the bottle was full of something stronger. He was always braver after a few drinks; stupider, definitely, and meaner, but braver. It would be easier to talk about mom after a few drinks. And then he thinks about the little bronze medallion attached to his keys, with the proud 5 Years embossed on it. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, and exhales the tightness in his chest away. He takes a sip of his stupid kombucha and scowls as he swallows it.

“Louis…” Marie says softly. She pulls her feet from his lap and tucks her legs beneath her, shuffling over so she’s beside him and can squeeze his shoulder. He shakes his head.

"Even after...” he waves a hand, “After everything, I still miss her. I hate it."

Marie opens her mouth, but as he watches, she seems to struggle for the words, and gives up, grimacing in sympathy instead. 

Louis turns to her, catching her elbow, “If she’s harassing you about it, I can-”

“No,” Marie says immediately, “No, you said no contact until she stops being-”

“Terrible?” Louis offers.

“I was going to say ‘a homophobic transphobic bitch’ but I guess yours is more succinct - anyway, since she’s still terrible, she won’t be getting any contact.”

Louis frowns, protectiveness rising inside of him like a tide, “I don’t want her to move onto harassing you though.”

“Look, Lou, telling mom where to stick it was probably the most badass thing you’ve ever done,” she snorts. “I won’t let you go back on that just because she’s being annoying. I can handle it.”

“Well,” Louis says, smiling wryly, “At the very least, you’ve got a good excuse to say no to her seeing Claudia at christmas.”

“Yeah?”

“We won’t be here. We’re spending it at Gabs’ cabin.”

“Oh,” Marie says, nodding, “Nice. She’ll love that.”

Louis hums vaguely, takes a long drink, and rips the metaphorical band-aid off, “Lestat’s coming too.”

Marie stares at him, eyes widening

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s…” Louis chews his lip, “it’s gonna be something else.”

She kicks him again, “Hey, maybe you’ll actually have fun.”

Louis snorts

Don’t think you’ve gotten out of talking about the blog!

-

(The last week of October passes, and then most of November is taken up by planning for Claudia's birthday; with its proximity to christmas, they always try to make a big deal of it for her, though this year she wants something a little more lowkey than usual. 

They end up taking a trip to the Museum of Natural History 

Claudia birthday party only has a few friends, mention Madeleine, trip to Tulane Museum of Natural History with Marie, Lestat tags along to help supervise, grandmother of one kid - Julia - helps too)

Lestat arrives basically on time, dressed - thankfully - appropriately for an outing to a museum with a group of seven year olds. Early in their relationship he went through a phase of wearing borderline obscene jeans, dressing like a washed up 80s rockstar rather than a washed up 90s popstar. It had been all part of his aggressive attempt to separate himself from his apple-pie boy-next-door image the record label had pushed early in his career, a hangover from his teenage rebellion, but he'd mortified Louis far too many times with his wardrobe for him to ever feel entirely confident on what Lestat might wear. The jeans had been set aside not long after he found out they were having Claudia, and much to Louis' relief, they don't seem to have seen the light of day again.

This time, he jogs in wearing a pair of skinny - but not 'make everyone else feel uncomfortable' skinny - grey jeans, one of those big infinity scarves, a denim jacket, and a pair of designer sunglasses that he flips up onto the top of his head as he enters the building. The whole outfit is so effortlessly stylish that it leaves Louis feeling oddly self-conscious in his chunky knit cardigan and button-up, which is ridiculous because he spent their whole relationship quite contentedly following around in the shadow Lestat's bright light cast, knowing that whilst Lestat had his admirers, one gesture from Louis would have him trotting back to his side like an obedient puppy. 

Now, without that devotion, he just feels like the frumpy dad. He does his best to school his expression into something at least borderline friendly as Lestat approaches, for the sake of getting through the day.

For the most part, it goes well; Marie makes for an excellent and engaging tour guide, and Lestat essentially turns it into a two-man comedy act with his annoying knack for performance. The worst thing about it all is that Lestat behaves and is genuinely very funny, and the kids all love him, and so Louis can't even find anything to be irritated by, which just makes him more irritated. So he stews at the back, trailing around to herd the stragglers. 

They take a break mid-afternoon for a drink and snack at the museum coffee shop; Claudia demands that Marie sit with her in the middle of the gaggle of kids, leaving Louis, Lestat, and Julia sitting together on a separate table. Louis is absolutely planning on grabbing the three of them drinks to avoid having to talk one-on-one with either of them, but to his dismay Julia offers first, and firmly pushes away their proffered wallets.

It's the first time he and Lestat have been alone in longer than Louis cares to think about. And they're not really alone, not with fifteen schoolkids on the tables beside them, but they are, in all the ways that count, distinctly not with anyone else.

Louis casts around desperately for a neutral conversation starter before the silence gets awkward.

"So," he says brightly, "How was your birthday?"

As long as Louis has known Lestat, he's loved making a big deal of his birthday. Even the birthday just before Claudia arrived, when Lestat was spending every waking moment grouchy and miserable and desperate to piss, he'd demanded an extravagant house party - and Louis presumes, knowing Lestat's love of drama, that the tradition had continued after their break up. No doubt he'd thrown a legendary party and had a wild night with a hundred friends all far too cool for Louis to possibly know, and he'll have enough stories to tell to tide them over until Julia gets back.

To his surprise, Lestat looks almost awkward. He fiddles with his phone, then shrugs, "Uh… well, actually my dad died. So it wasn't great."

Oh god. So much for a neutral conversation starter! Louis cringes immediately, then tries to reel it back into something appropriately sympathetic, "I'm… I'm sorry."

Although, knowing what little that he does of Lestat's father, he suspects Lestat isn't especially sorry himself. Lestat never spoke much about his childhood. A few times, whilst drunk, he'd curled up in Louis' arms crying about how his father had hurt him, but he'd never elaborated or explained, and all Louis knows is that Gabs had been pushed into the marriage at a very young age, both of Lestat's older brothers left home at sixteen, and that the moment Lestat's career success had allowed them the funds, Gabs had hired the best divorce lawyer in the city, Lestat had packed up his stuff, and they'd made a break for it.

Knowing Gabs, that alone told him a huge amount about Lestat's father.

Louis had only met the man once; shortly after Claudia was born, he'd turned up on their doorstep, a desperate wreck. Louis had always assumed that Lestat took after Gabs looks-wise, as after all he had her blond mane and sharp jawline, but he'd known the man was Lestat's father from the first moment he saw him as they had exactly the same distinctive grey-violet eyes. He was destitute, the man had said, his sons wouldn't speak to him, would Lestat…?

When Louis had called for Lestat, he'd taken one look at his father, exploded into furious tears, and locked himself in the bathroom. The commotion woke up Claudia, who began screaming, and Louis had been so overwhelmed and bewildered in his brand-new-parenthood sleep deprivation he'd wound up just giving Monsieur de Lioncourt all the cash in his wallet and calling him a taxi.

Later, once Lestat had calmed down and Claudia had stopped crying, and the three of them were curled up in bed together, Louis had silently agonised for hours over whether he'd done the right thing. To be honest, sometimes he still wonders.

Lestat looks at him, then down at his hands, then shrugs, mouth twisted in an expression more of conflict than any particular emotion.

"I'd been put as his emergency contact," Lestat snorts, "Likely because I'm the only one who can afford to pay his medical bills. The hospital managed to contact Augustin and Olivier, but they didn't even bother to show up. And obviously I didn't ask Gabs," he sighs, "So I spent my birthday sitting in a hospital room for three hours waiting for an old man to die in his sleep. I didn’t really feel up for a party after that, so I cancelled it."

Louis swallows. Lestat is fiddling with his phone again, snapping the expensive rose-gold case on and off. Louis wants to reach out and still his hands, thread their fingers together and stroke his thumb up and down Lestat's, kiss his knuckles and smile softly at him like he used to do when Lestat got anxious or antsy-

-but that's not them anymore, so he just sits and watches helplessly.

"I'm sorry," Louis repeats, at a loss as to what else to say. 

"Don't be sorry that he's dead," Lestat says, voice tight, glaring down at his phone, "Because I'm not. I don't think anyone is."

"I'm…" Louis swallows, and as he watches Lestat's jerky hand movements around the phone, the compulsion overtakes him and he reaches out - just to his wrist, a safe zone, Louis' fingers holding around his big expensive watch, not even touching his skin, but Lestat still looks up at him sharply.

"I'm sorry you had to do that on your own," Louis says softly. Lestat stares at him for a moment, and then, to his surprise, Lestat lets out a sigh and the tension immediately leaves his shoulders. He can't meet Louis' gaze, but he nods, acknowledging it.

If you'd asked me, I would have gone with you, Louis realises with some shock. It feels like something he should tell Lestat, and it's on the tip of his tongue, but then Lestat sits up in his chair and pulls his hand away. It takes a moment for Louis to realise it's because Julia is approaching with a tray of drinks.

"Here we go," she says cheerfully, setting down the tray. It has three mugs and a small teapot. Louis stares at the teapot and feels his heart sink. Oh dear. 

Lestat, on the other hand, immediately perks up, a delighted grin taking over his face as he takes his latte and looks between Louis and the teapot.

"Julia," he says, "Julia, cherie, you got him tea, how did you know?"

Louis grinds his teeth and glares as Lestat meets his eyes, then quickly pulls up a polite smile when Julia turns to him.

Julia preens, clearly proud of herself, "Well, I said I'd get us three coffees, but then I saw that they sold tea, and I remembered that you had tea at [event], and I thought it might be a nice surprise," she hesitates, "Was- was I right?"

"Of course you were!" Lestat jumps in, patting her hand, "Louis is a Tea Person, can't you just tell from how cultured and refined he is? Look at that cardigan, those elbow patches - doesn't it just fit his asthetique?"

Louis is going to grind his back molars to dust at this rate, but he manages to unclench his jaw for a few moments to thank Julia for her kind thought, then he resignedly pours out the pot into his mug. The conversation is thankfully steered onwards, and Louis cups the mug in his hands and avoids drinking for almost five whole minutes on the excuse that it’s too hot before he has to take a sip. 

It’s not that Louis hates tea. 

(Lestat grabs mug and pours tea into plant when granddaughter calls for Julia)

[silver-crowned-riders]

Caring for my clothes/fabric-wearing Pokémon!

ALRIGHT! I suppose Rotomblr is a good place to share information like this and, heh, I'm pretty knowledgeable on the topic if I do say so myself.

I train a bunch of Pokémon that wear clothes or fabrics. It's such a weird and freaky thing to a bunch of people for some reason, oooh where do they come from do they ever take it off so weird blah blah blah. Most people just get distracted being weirded out insteada learning anything! SO! I wrote about what I do for my team! Here it goes!! - J

Ribombee

These dudes make scarves out of wild materials, they're super crafty and can work well with their tiny hands and nature skills. Thin and lightweight is what they'd want, and they wouldn't mind a somewhat scratchy texture either. They enjoy the details (it's not about a perfect ~soft~ consistency just cause they're fairy types!! Arceus on Spear Pillar you guys' fairy type stereotypes give me a headache. AHEM!) and they can really tell when love's been put into it. Gifting eachother scarves can sometimes be part of how some Ribombee find mates too, along with making the most impressive pollen puffs!

My Ribombee had an old and plain scarf it wasn't all that attatched to. What I did was take the cotton left behind by a fleeing Whimsicott me and Ribombee went up against, did some minimal processing of the cotton with what I had at the base, dyed it brown and suprised her with it! She's never taken it off.

Oh, and I came up with a method to make that spike thing, but it's kinda hard to explain and pull off... there's Mewtube and Bulba-How tutorials, and if you can't pull it off you can get help from your Ribombee! Again, it's a social thing for them, they don't mind.

You don't really need to worry about cleaning a Ribombee's scarf. Most of what they make would kinda just fall apart if washed, so they've learned to use their hands very delicately to do the job themselves! They're probably better at it than you, so just back off for these ones. Plus, like touching a Skitty while it's licking itself, it's just kinda rude. Don't be rude!

Mimikyu

OOH OOH, OK THIS ONE'S SUPER INTERESTING! So ghost Pokémon's bodies work different from usual ones as you all probably know. The reason why Mimikyu hatch wearing a rag despite there clearly being a face drawn on the fabric is that over time a rag becomes bonded to one's body and essentially becomes a part of the Mimikyu! Hah, I get the feeling, like my gloves I made that feel like a part of me too, or like, my sweatpants when I was a teen.

However, the fabrics do get old and do need a wash. Not cause your Mimikyu, like, sweats or anything, it's less an odor issue and more that they can feel the fabric and old ones can get uncomfortable over time. Gyeuh, can you imagine something scratchy and full of dirt being bound to your body? Makes me squirm a little.

It's important to get a whitish fabric and a black, brown and yellow/orange marker or paints depending on which would work on your fabric, plus a little string and stuffing for them to make the head with. I don't think they have individual preferences for how the rag looks, they wanna look like Pikachu and they have a specific idea for how to go about that.

I took my little guy to the fabric store only cause I'd need something blank to work with (plus I don't dig the vibe of those places! There's people who don't know what they're talking about everywhere and the smell of a hundred different detergents and marker inks following you around! I always have to bring Swirlix along there to get myself through it.) I let them feel out whichever one they like the most and I let them run wild with it. Then, I let them go into the closet to change, and out they come a new man!

When it comes to cleaning, wild Mimikyu would just take a dip in a pond or whatever, or just... not wash. Eh, can't judge. However for my guy I follow whatever is needed for their specific fabric at the time. In the meantime they hide under a mattress while I leave Clementine there (my Scrafty) to make sure no one tries to take a peek at them.

Shuppet

Shuppet is really interesting because yeah, it looks like it's kinda just the sheet... and that's because it is! It's not like Mimikyu, that's just it's body. You can't replace the sheet, but it can still get dirty, so you can bathe a Shuppet the same way you'd clean a fabric! Unfortunately the one thing about being a Rider who's into clothes stuff is that there isn't really a "punk" detergent out there, and no one who like. Wants to make a small business around detergent or whatever. So I just get some (groan) Baby Smoochum's Laundry Detergent since I've found its what works best.

(I would shoplift it, but like. The cashier at the store I go to is really nice and I don't wanna get into an argument with him...)

Oh yeah, and if you use something else, make sure it's NON-TOXIC! Shuppets ain't immune to poison, remember! It won't really care if you use something scented or not, it's senses are specialized towards emotion, so it has a dulled sense for taste and smell of real food.

You don't need to do dry clean or anything for these guys. You'd normally want to do the wash on low for the sake of the Shuppet, but mine is a CERTIFIED DUDE who likes swirling around inside the laundry machine at HIGH, ADRENALINE-PUMPING WASH CYCLE SPEEDS!! It looks really fun tbh. So that's how I do it!

I don't think I'd be able to do the washing machine method when (or if, at this rate,) he evolves though. Stronger ghost Pokémon easily curse things if you're not careful, and I'm not going through all this effort just to end up with haunted ghost clothes!

Scraggy and Scrafty

Common misconception that these are another clothes-wearing one. From what I've heard usually only Scrafty's dex entry clarifies it, but that's thick shed skin, not actual clothes! And SOOOO many people treat that like such a freaky, world destroying fact when they learn it! GAH! Arceus forbid nature isn't perfectly pretty by human standards all of the time!!

But yeah, for Scraggys and Scraftys (or... Scraggies and Scrafties?) you just keep an eye on areas where dirt can get stuck under the shed skin like around the feet or in the tail and let them soak in the bathtup (or a lake if you're on the road) every now and then.

That's what I got for my team! They're the ones I'm most knowledgeable on, but I'm knowledgeable on the topic and can give pointers for other Pokémon too if you have questions!

[tenacityreturns]

" hey, can i put eyeliner on you? " why you may ask? kise will respond with why not?

@sociieties

"why?" kagami asks, with no disgust or malice in his voice. just pure curiosity. maybe tinged with surprise, at most.

"why not?" kise will reply. why should kagami have expected anything different?

he's been told by reliable sources, kise in the past, that it's not like it hurts. and kagami has seen for himself that whatever brand of marker ("marker"?) that kise uses is fully sweat proof, so there'll be no emo band au for kagami if he forgets he's wearing it!

the redhead turns a little sly for a moment. "you can do whatever you want," risky choice of words, "if you agree to play a one-on-one with me."

kagami doesn't back down from his proposition, therefore kise has no option but to accept. so they're sitting in kise's room -- that is, the spare room. but for now, and forever after, it will be the room kise occupied the first time he stayed in in kagami's house in the states. anyway, they're sat there, on the floor, at the foot of the bed. kagami has his back to the wooden bedframe, sitting extremely still. his face, turned to the light of the window, has not been held like this before. not in any recent memory, anyway. before starting his magic on kagami's eyes, kise demonstrated his artistic ability on himself. it's quick and painless! one of kise's hands rests on kagami's cheekbone, the other holds underneath his chin to steady him.

no, but, like, this is totally not normal... maybe make-up is making him nervous for some reason because he's critically aware of EVERYTHING right now. his eyes are closed, but he can sense how far away kise's face is by the steady sound of his breathing. he smells so good, by the way. it's probably some expensive scent he got from a promotional deal, or something glitzy like that. maybe the president sent it to him for valentine's day. kagami almost smiles at the thought, but he stops himself. he is under too keen an observation to start laughing at his own thoughts.

open your eyes, kise instructs. okay! his dark crimson eyelashes flutter open. he wasn't keeping as still as kise would have probably liked, not that he's aware of it. it wasn't that he was exactly flinching, but his eyelids tensed here and there under the pressure of having to remain so still. he'd also convinced himself that if he did move, he would immediately be blinded. so. that didn't help. as his eyes open, he realises how much further forward his own posture is. maybe kise's hands had guided him closer so it's easier to see? maybe kagami moved by his own volition? who knows. doesn't matter. it's weird seeing kise so up close. he's concentrating on getting the lines right, and his gaze flickers between kagami's eyes with a look of determination about him. no-- not quite. kise's not meeting his eyes, he's looking at his eyelids. it's just as well, really. gives kagami time to look at him and not feel seen while doing it. where the hell else is he supposed to look? kagami wonders if kise wears stuff on his skin to keep it so clear looking, or colour on his lips. maybe he doesn't? kagami realises he's not looked as his friend's mouth enough to have noticed the colour change. it's strange to think that kise's eye shape is different than what it looks like from far away. he still have absolutely ridiculous lashes, and beautiful curves to his eyes, but the black lines make them look longer still. he tries to find where skin meets lashline, to glimpse at what he really looks like. (spoiler: it’s kise but without eyeliner on.)

he feels his throat tighten. shit, is he allergic to the eyeliner ink ("ink")? when he opens his mouth to try to voice it, he doesn't have any words to speak. no air to manipulate, no sentences on his tongue. oh, god, is his heartrate speeding up? is he actually about to die? what if he goes blind and he can't play basketball anymore? his hand takes a hold of kise's wrist -- not the one he's drawing with, but the one under his jaw. now the pen is away from his eyes, kagami manages to say: "is it supposed to feel funny?" whatever that means. his chest feels weird still, but it all lessens now that he's looking for that mirror laying somewhere nearby. "huh," he muses as he picks it up, "guess i'm fine. i can't feel it anymore."

it's surprisingly neat. not as fine as the lines on kise's own face, but that's kagami's fault for moving so much. he looks down at himself in the mirror, realises this is maybe a bad angle, and raises it a little. well. he looks kind of stupid, but again, that’s not the eyeliner’s fault. that kagami doesn’t like what he sees is not important! the shape is different to kise’s because they have a different eye shape, he imagines. it looks better on kise. glancing over at him, he wonders what kise thinks of his handiwork. kagami cracks a smile.

“do i look like an idol now, huh?” the smile becomes a smirk and he leans closer, wide eyes lowering to half mast. “part-time supermodel kagami taiga gonna steal your spotlight, pretty boy?”

the tightness across his chest returns inexplicably, and he doesn’t know why.

[tagetesxd]

here have some incorrect quotes im to lazy to draw anything for

oh also if you´re wondering who ´Bewinged spear´ its Wings sister but i´ll prob change her name-

Btools: When I said bring me something back from the beach I meant like a conch shell! Wing: *Struggling to hold a seagull he tamed* Fucking say that next time!

Btools: I know you love him. Blackhole: I am not in love with Wing! Btools, staring at Blackhole: I never said who… Blackhole: realizes Blackhole: Shit. Well, anyways-

Bewinged spear: You’re mean! Wing: You’re meaner! Bewinged spear: Yeah, well, you’re ugly too! Wing: You’re uglier! Bewinged spear: You’re a dumbass! Wing: You’re a dumberass! Bewinged spear: You think “dumberass” is a good insult!

Bewinged spear: *shatters a window and climbs through it* Bewinged spear: *turns around and helps Wing through it* Breaking and entering is wrong Wing. Wing: Okay.

Squid ink bomb: Onion rings are vegetable donuts. Btools, used to Squid ink bomb being dumb: Sure… Squid ink bomb: Your stomach thinks all potatoes are mashed. Btools: Okay? Squid ink bomb: Lasagna is spaghetti flavored cake. Btools: Squid ink bomb: Lobsters are mermaid scorpio- Btools: Jesus, that one is a little- Blackhole and Wing, interested: No, no, Squid ink bomb, keep going.

Blackhole: I'm bored. Wing: Wanna commit first degree murder? Blackhole: Sure! Btools, hearing them: No- Stop, don't do that! Put that knife down! Put Squid ink bomb down!!

Blackhole: Did you ever have like a pet run away and find it or anything? Bewinged spear: I had a lizard that I burnt.

Wing: Christmas is cancelled. Blackhole: You can't cancel a holiday. Wing: Keep it up, Blackhole, and you'll lose New Year's too. Blackhole: What does that mean? Wing: Squid ink bomb, take New Year's away from Blackhole.

Bewinged spear, to Squid ink bomb: You know, Wing can be really aggressive, so it's important to take all the necessary precautions when approaching. Bewinged spear: blows airhorn at Wing GET FUCKED!

Wing: I stand for the birds. Put them down I´ll snap your neck

Btools: How would you guys deal with a toxic friend? Squid ink bomb: Tell them how you really feel. Blackhole: Slowly distance yourself from them. Wing: Engage in a 1v1 sword battle and if they lose they have to stop being toxic or pay the price. Btools, being handed a sword from Wing: …well heck.

Wing: Fight me! Bewinged spear: Ha, look at your size! What are you gonna do, kick my ankle? *Later* Squid ink bomb: Why is Bewinged spear crying? Blackhole: Wing kicked her really hard on the ankle.

Wing: Blackhole and I are no longer friends. Blackhole: WING THAT IS THE WORST WAY TO TELL PEOPLE THAT WE’RE DATING!

Btools: The joy of hanging out with Wing and Squid ink bomb. You look away for 5 seconds to make sure something is set up correctly, and they bite the tip of some markers off.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jamil Viper Union Birthday Personal Story: Part 1

"Happy Birthday"

Part 1 (Part 2) (Part 3)

[Scarabia Dorm – Birthday Party Venue]

Jamil: It's about time for the student heading up my interview to show up.

Jamil: They say that "the presenter chosen by the Magical Birthday Dice will bring good fortune," but…

Jamil: Can a student from this school bring anything but trouble? I'm curious who could have possibly been chosen for this…

???: PARDON ME!

Sebek: Tis I, Sebek Zigvolt! I am your presenter for today.

Sebek: JAMIL-SENPAI, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

Jamil: Oh, so you were the one chosen to be my presenter. Be gentle with me today, Sebek.

Sebek: Naturally. Up first… is the presentation of the birthday gift. Please accept this.

Jamil: Thank you. Now, let's see what it is that you've chosen for me...

Jamil: Oh, this book… it's a collection of travelling essays.

Jamil: Let me see… Oh, interesting. Seems as though the author has visited many places.

Sebek: You said you longed to travel alone. That is why I've chosen a book like this that may suit your tastes.

Jamil: I see. I honestly wasn't expecting much, but I'm excited for this book. I can't wait to read it.

Jamil: Except, what's with the abundance of sticky notes? The book itself looks fairly new, and yet…

Jamil: Oh, the Port o' Bliss. The city became famous for its use as a location in that one movie. I've always wanted to visit it someday.

Jamil: According to Sam, live instrumental music can be heard from all over the city. It sounds like it could be fun just walking around.

Jamil: Hm? There are marker lines drawn here and there. The sticky notes have got a bunch of stuff written on them…

Jamil: "A famous musician jumped onto the stage here. This shop is very famous among music fans."

Jamil: Nice, so there are little surprises like that! Makes me want to go there more and more.

Jamil: So, the northern Shaftlands really is cold, then. The sticky note describes what kind of clothes and shoes to wear there.

Jamil: Also, there are tips on how to see the Northern Lights… Yeah, if I were to travel there, I would like to see that with my own eyes.

Jamil: Oh, on this page, there's a ton of information on the local dishes.

Jamil: Oh, looks like there are curry-like dishes filled with spices outside of the Scalding Sands, too.

Jamil: Peaches, squid ink, fermented soy beans… They really do put many different things into their dish. I'd never think of that, so it's quite interesting.

Jamil: There are recommendations, notes and trivia written on the other pages as well. It's to the point and really easy to understand.

Jamil: These seem to be written by someone who's really gone to these places. Are these your experiences, Sebek?

Sebek: No, while I was wrapping the gift, Lilia-sama was present and would tell me about the different destinations he's traveled to.

Sebek: I wished to convey his precious stories to you, and so I copied them down onto these sticky notes.

Sebek: There are no mentions of my birthplace, Briar Valley, but…

Sebek: It is a very wonderful place. You should travel there sometime.

Jamil: Yeah. Thanks for this amazing present, Sebek. Please give my thanks to Lilia-senpai as well.

Jamil: I'll pretend I didn't notice his notes on the food, then…

Jamil: One day, when I go travelling, I'll bring this book with me.

Part 1 (Part 2) (Part 3)

Requested by Anonymous.

[bubbleteabarista]

what's up, capri fandom. people kept asking me when heartbreak prince on ao3 (modern royalty break up/make up fic) would update and since ao3 doesn't have a function that lets you go, "I KNOW I KNOW, I'M WORKIN' ON IT" I'm over here on tumblr now so ya'll can chill out (she says lovingly. seriously, the reception to the fic has been so kind.) I won't apologize for being slow, and I can't guarantee a date buuuuut I have a little preview of the next chapter to tide you over. (not really a spoiler, but lmao, it looks like this thing is going to be three chapters instead of two *clown car noises*)

PARTY PRINCE BECOMES POLITICAL PARTY PRINCE is what the new headline reads and Damen has to admit it’s got a nice ring to it.

Still, Damen had not expected the protestors.

It was a small group, comprised of no more than six or seven people but where they lacked in numbers, they made up in ruckus. Pallas, who was assigned to him that morning, insisted that the normal fifteen minute walk would be safer by car. That hadn’t stopped them. They followed him to campus, brandishing signs and shouting obscenities in Akielon. Apparently, he was a traitor. A betrayer to the Crown. Just one month of school in Vere was all it had taken for him to taint the honorable name of Akielos.

Abdicate, Damianos!

Damen walks head held high into the university center.

Pallas follows closely behind him, lips pressed tight against the words he so clearly wants to say to Damen. There are splashes of what looks like red ink and egg yolk splattered against the hem of Pallas’ trousers. The protestors had apparently come with projectiles — innocent projectiles this time, but the fact of it meant that they’d need to discuss an update in security protocol.

Before Pallas can start, Erasmus catches up to them by the elevators. A fellow Akielon expat, he’d been assigned to help Damen adjust a month ago, and had shown up at the welcome center with a color coded binder of the best places to eat, sights to see, and a glossary of current Veretian slang. Damen got around just fine, but Erasmus was personable and easy to be around. In another life, Damen thinks, they would have been a nice pair, the two of them. A grad school romance, two Akielons in the heart of Vere, a homey comfort to each other, hearing their mother tongue and sharing their families’ baklava recipes.

In another life.

Damen nods in greeting, and Erasmus tilts his head up in acknowledgment but stays quiet as the three of them wait for the elevator to come down. Normally Erasmus was a cheerful, if over-excitable, chatterbox in the mornings, sharing inconsequential things like a photo of a nice dog he got to pet or a new song from that attractive and fashionable seven-person boy band he liked so much, but today he bites his lips, barely concealing a grimace as he fidgets with his bag strap.

Ah, Damen realizes. Erasmus, of course, spoke and understood Akielon just as well he did. They could still hear the protestors, even from inside the lobby.

“It’s nothing,” Damen says in Akielon. “Just a bunch of idiots with some markers and too much time on their hands. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Of course,” Erasmus responds, gamely. Pallas shoots Damen a look.

“Doesn’t change anything,” Damen continues, “I’m happy to be here. And I’ll be there later tonight.”

The elevator arrives and they step inside.

For a few moments, the only sound in the elevator is Erasmus erratically tapping his ragged sneaker against the floor. He’s looking down at the ground, still biting his lip, before he finally hits his limit three floors into the ride.

“I—saw you on the news last night,” Erasmus bursts out.

Damen leans his weight against the elevator wall, crosses his arms, and lets out a breath. “You and all of Akielos.”

“All of the world,” Erasmus corrects, finally looking up and gazing at Damen with wide eyes. “It was…really brave of you.” He’s awed, Damen thinks, but there’s something else in that look. Fear, maybe.

“Not really,” is all Damen can think to say. “It’s just what’s right.”

The elevator bell announces their floor and they step out. Before Erasmus splits off towards his class, he turns back to Damen, eyes cast down, and says, “Are you sure—“

Damen claps his hand on Erasmus’ shoulder, and the comforting weight of it must be enough for Erasmus to stop chewing his lip and meet Damen’s eye. From his peripheral, Damen can feel Pallas’ barely contained scowl urging Damen away.

“I’ll be there,” Damen says, with no space for discussion and really, he’s saying it for Pallas just as much as he’s saying it for Erasmus. “We’ll see you later.” ____ Just an FYI, this has been taking forever because I waffled back and forth between doing a section in Damen's POV, and then when I finally decided to do it, I realized he's really freaking difficult to write.