#hmm should I do likewise

[the-kipsabian]

thimkin about how for the longest time one of my favorite ideas on my bracelet list was the four piece bcc set, each based on each members "violent by x" tagline

well that would have aged badly LMAO

[changetyre]

this ideia just came through my mind and now im obsessed with it

so its a lando X reader where she went with him to film chicken shop date and amelia notices how funny the reader is and starts to "flirt" with her too and the reader flirts back

all this situation make lando giggling a lot and amelia suggests to the 3 of the become a couple and the internet gets crazy lol idk

Picked the wrong date II Lando Norris x Reader Ⓢ

SUMMARY: You convince Lando to accept the invite to chicken shop date telling him it would make a hilarious video knowing his shy and awkward personality. What neither of you expected was the connection between you and Amelia.

WARNINGS: none? it's short and not proofread.

A/N: This is definitely a request different from what I normally get so I was kind of just winging it;) still hope you enjoy it.

"Hey, it's so nice to meet you. Thank you for coming." Amelia walked over to greet Lando with a handshake.

"Likewise, and I'll be honest if it wasn't for this one I don't think I would've come." Lando laughed pointing back at you.

"Oh really?!" Amelia laughed as she greeted you with a hug. "Are you a fan of the show?" She asked you as she pulled away.

"Big fan, I'm obsessed with your videos, especially the ones with Finneas and Aitch." You replied honestly.

"oooh fun times." Amelia smiles awkwardly making you laugh.

"Go sit down baby." You nudged Lando as you saw someone waiting for him to get mic'd up.

"Right." Lando kissed your cheek then the back of your hand before finally letting go.

"Aww, how cute." Amelia stayed next to you as she was already prepped. "How long have you two been together." She asked.

"Just over two years." you blushed just thinking about your time with Lando thus far.

"Aww, well he's lucky to have you, you're stunning." Amelia complimented you.

"Isn't she just?" Lando smirked overhearing.

"Oh stop it you two are making me go red." You giggled walking over to an empty seat behind the cameras.

_________

"I know you followed me a long time ago and I didn't follow you back," Lando confessed.

"Wha-" Amelia feigned offense. "Yeah, that's true I was gonna bring that up"

"I was just playing hard to get." Lando laughed awkwardly making you smile at his awkwardness.

"Maybe you'll follow me back? Actually, I don-"

"I do actually follow you back now." Lando revealed.

"You do?" Amelia asked surprised.

"Well yeah but to be honest only because she made me." Lando pointed over to you.

"Hmm, maybe I should be on a date with her." Amelia joked making both you and Lando laugh.

"Maybe you should. She's great." Lando giggled.

"Hmm, why don't you give me your number after this?" Amelia asked you.

"Sure will baby." You played along.

"Ooo baby." Amelia giggled, twirling her hair at you jokingly all while Lando couldn't stop smiling.

"You stealing my girlfriend?" Lando joked.

"Hmm, we'll see by the end of this," Amelia said as she took a bite of a fry.

"Cool." Lando looked down laughing.

_

"I just looked at my calendar yesterday." Lando joked pretending he wasn't aware of this interview until yesterday.

"I've known about this for years, it's in my diary." Amelia said making Lando laugh.

"Oh yeah? Your personal diary? What did it say?" Lando asked.

"It said, date with Lando Norris secretly a plot to get with his girlfriend who is crazy beautiful and will be sitting out of frame but just in my line of view throughout the entire date." Amelia improvised all while you couldn't help but laughing.

"It said all of that?" Lando asked laughing too as he looked over at you to see you giggling along.

"Oh yeah." Amelia tried holding back her laugh too.

"Your plot is working honey." You commented.

"Yeah, I figured." Amelia nodded confidently.

_

"You know I've never been to a race." Amelia pointed out.

"You should come." Lando replied, and you could notice the honesty in the invite.

"I would love to," Amelia replied eagerly. "Maybe she can show me around while you're looking for the on button on your car." Amelia winked at you.

You couldn't hold back your laugh. "I'll show you anything you want." You flirted along.

"Anything?" Amelia raised her eyebrows suggestively.

You had to hold back a laugh to flirt along. "Anything." You reaffirmed.

"Woah some things are for my eyes only baby," Lando spoke to you trying to hold back a laugh.

"It could be for our eyes only Lando," Amelia suggested to Lando.

"hmm, I'll think about it." Lando played along able to control his laughter and pretending to think about it.

_

"I heard it's quite hot in there." Amelia continued.

"Yeah, it gets very hot," Lando confirmed. "Yeah, sweaty and-"

"Even hotter if I was in there," Amelia added.

Lando chuckled looking down shyly. "Even hotter if she was in there." Lando quickly recovered pointing over at you.

"Hmm true true." Amelia nodded corroborating.

_

"Can you drive?" Lando asked.

"Uhm-" Amelia hesitated.

"That's a no."

"Just a- we'll just move on." Amelia brushed past the question.

Lando silently sniggered. "It's okay y/n can't drive either."

"See you drive and y/n and I can be your passenger princesses." Amelia pointed out.

"Oh right so like a throuple situation or?" Lando asked.

"Uh well yeah I guess so I'm not sure I can get her without you so." Amelia shrugged.

"Right, that's settled then." Lando shrugged too as if concluding the plan.

Amelia looked around for a bit silently. "Sorry, I'm just imagining that happening and it's great." She smiled dreamily.

-

The rest of the date was similar, with jokes and awkward laughter, as well as flirting between you and Amelia and occasionally Lando.

You knew F1 fans would love this when it came out and there was no doubt they'd love the little added comments from your side.

[atinylittlepain]

Warm

college!steve harrington x f!oc

series masterlist

Steve gets flustered in an art museum. She kind of likes it.

18+ smut, normal hairy female bodies, steve is kind of a perv in the best way, smut duh, and verrryyyyyy sweet, also robin and eddie being good roommates

note: the painting that Andy and Steve look at is called l'origine du monde by Gustave Corbet and you can check it out here. This fic is for bush (not the president) and bush only, thanks.

.............................................................................

Steve is a good guy, right? Right. Respectful, respectable, two percent in his cheerios in the morning, light wash denim and clean sneakers, and he flosses two times a day, clean bill at every dentist appointment and he shows it, curls half a smile when he holds the door open for girls on campus, all ease, all-American and alright. Studying business, and of course he is, though his parents don’t know about the women’s studies minor he picked up all because of a flushed little crush on a professor that never amounted to anything, coupled with Robin strong-arming him into taking a few more classes with her. But that’s okay, he likes the classes, and he likes the classmates.

“Do you need a partner?” 

“Hmm? Oh, I was just going to work alone actually.” Big scarf tucked up around her neck and a big coat wrapped up around her and she barely even glances at him down the slope of her nose, already refocusing on the painting in front of her. But he’s a good guy, right? Right. A real team player, tilting his head, and letting his hair fall into his face, a little shy, a little smile. She glances at him, unimpressed hook of her brow and her eyelashes lifting up over the rims of her glasses. Her name is Andy, he knows, though they haven’t spoken, at least not directly. She’s been known to correct him in class however, her hand raising after his, quick and cutting. He maybe, kinda, sorta likes that. 

“I think we’re supposed to, you know, discuss what we’re looking at with each other for the VHS thing.”

“VTS.”

“What?”

“It’s called VTS. Visual thinking strategies. Are you sure you want to discuss this painting with me?” 

“I’m game if you are.” She smiles, and he’s already thinking about which of her palms he’d like to write his number on. But when he finally looks at the painting, he finds himself to be a lot less concerned with his phone number. 

“So, Steve, what’s the first thing you notice about this painting?” 

“Um, well, I–” 

“Is it too much for you?” Heat is prickling in a bloom up his neck, her smile sharp as her eyes flit between him and the painting, the painting that he really should have looked at before approaching her.

“No, no, it’s not too much. It’s– appreciation of the female form, right?” He’s not sure where to look any more, a strange kaleidoscope with how quickly his eyes are darting between scraps of the painting and her face. A freckle under her eye, and then swaths of cream and pink brush strokes and then the hitch in her cheek where her smile curves and then, and then. 

“Hair.” His voice pitches and cracks somewhere in the word, turning one syllable into two like a hiccup. She laughs a clipped sound. 

“Hair?” 

“Around her– around her–”

“Around her cunt?” Something hot tightens in his chest, maybe shame, though shame doesn’t feel good like this does. He feels foolish, the quick whip of his head around like he’s worried they’re going to get caught, though for what he isn’t sure. Likewise, he has no clue what’s causing this devastating fluster, this feathering of heat. Whatever it is, it’s making it very hard to look at her, though the way his gaze has fixed on the painting doesn’t feel much better either. He’s never heard a woman use that word before. Actually, scratch that, he’s pretty sure he’s never heard anyone use that word before, not in Hawkins, at least, not corn fed and halfway bible bred, at least. It sets something slick shimmering inside of him, something warm that’s making it hard to think.

“Are you blushing?” 

“I’m not, I’m just appreciating the work.”

“L’origine du monde.”

“What was that?”

“That’s the name of the painting. Origin of the world.”

“Well, that, uh, I guess that tracks.” 

“It’s a shame, don’t you think?” When he does finally look at her again, she’s smiling, all ease, all cool, and him anything but, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm into his hip. 

“What’s a shame?” She sighs, a long sound, letting her neck roll to the side so her cheek scrunches into the plush of her scarf, a wistful look.

“The current trends. Looking like prepubescent girls. No hips, bald vaginas, everything so… sterile.” She speaks with a bluntness that winds him, if he’s being honest, her expression schooled, and maybe a little disillusioned, brow pinched and mouth pulling down in a grimace. 

“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it.” 

“Yeah, well, you have a cock. Makes things a little simpler, doesn’t it?” 

“Jesus Christ, do you always talk like this?” He says it just a little too loud, a little too breathless, heads turning in the gallery around them, and he thinks he might regret even trying with this girl. Should’ve stuck with the tried and true, that blonde girl that wears sticky sweet lip gloss and smiles at him from across the room during lectures. But this girl, with her arched brow and her twitching smile and the dark flicker of nail polish when she smooths the throat of her scarf. This girl has his number, and not in the way he’d like her to.

“What do you prefer, Steve? Do you like a girl with a smooth shave?” 

“Well I think that, um, a woman’s body is her own choice.” And it has to be the dumbest string of words he’s ever said, breathed out on two static exhales, a garbled parroting of what he’s learned in these classes, right? Well, sort of. 

“How progressive of you.” 

“But the painting is really, you know, it’s, um, it feels warm?” Not sure where that came from, another fresh flood of heat rising and buoying up into his cheeks. Though her expression seems to soften, her smirk falling into something lighter. Maybe, maybe, he got one right. 

“Yeah, I think I get what you mean. There’s a softness to it that’s beautiful, don’t you think?” 

“Mmhmm.”

“But also a strength, a frankness to it.”

“Yes, yeah.” That sick swirl of shame but not shame is receding, and only leaving a nice sort of haze in its place, his head lolling a little, eyes raking over the painting, the catch of light, the soft rounding of a body at rest, slumped and plush and kind of perfect, he thinks. Although he’s pretty sure Andy would correct him for perfect, perfect not being the point, because perfect is oppressive, right? Right. Fuck perfect, he thinks, this is something better than perfect. And maybe she is too. 

“Steve?” Her hand on his arm, purple nail polish and a close-lipped smile snapping him back into his body, hmm? And her smile spreads, and the warmth does too, and she’s saying something about the prof calling them back together and he’s mmhmm-ing on the heels of her brown leather boots. And she sits next to him when they get back on the bus, Robin giving him a stink eye that breezes right over the top of his head as she passes down the aisle because he’s a little busy trying to take discreet inhales through his nose of whatever perfume Andy wears, spice and strong and warm, that same warm. 

And it isn’t his number that gets jotted onto her palm, but her address that she scrawls onto the soft inside of his wrist, right over the catch and jump of his pulse, because she has invited him over for a drink tonight to continue our conversation from earlier. 

Robin doesn’t even have a chance to snit at him for leaving her stranded to the back of the bus because he’s already shuffling her along by the crooked wing of his elbow, hands tucked down deep in his jacket pockets, snow starting to flit and fall from the gray hang of sky. 

“I need your help.”

“You have a date.”

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s a date. She was like, rubbing your wrist. That’s a date.”

“I need your help.”

“Yeah, you do.” 

Because Andy is not light washed denim and polo shirts and two percent milk. He’s seen her in the campus coffee shop, she takes soy, sometimes almond, for the record. So when they get back to their apartment, the smell of electric heat washing over them and curling in their lungs, they don’t go to Steve’s closet, they go to Robin’s. 

Robin’s first pull is a turtleneck. He scoffs.

“What? Turtleneck dudes are definitely that chick’s type. Are you kidding me right now?” And when he assures her that he is, in fact, not kidding her right now, Robin starts to rummage again, eventually coming back out with a t-shirt for a band that Steve only knows because he has asked Robin to turn their music down on several occasions. And before he can say anything Robin is please hold-ing him and shouting down the hall for Eddie.

“What?”

“Steve has a date with a cool girl.”

“Cool girl, what cool girl?”

“Soc major, with the boots.”A little flurry of activity, socked feet slipping down the hall and Eddie hanging off the doorframe of his room, Steve not able to get a word in edgewise between their rapid fire volley.

“No, really? Little different for you, man, isn’t it?” 

“I–”

“We need your closet, excuse us.” Robin on the warpath and Eddie grinning big, and Steve somewhere in the middle.

“How’d this happen?”

“She–”

“They were talking about art.” Robin reappearing with a long-sleeved thermal gripped in her other hand, eyebrows waggling. 

“Steven? Our Steven? Talking about art? Well, well, well.”  If he just had time he’d say something back to Eddie about how he got kicked out of the art museum last weekend for making quacking noises every time the security guard took a step, but Robin is already ushering him back down the hall, into his room this time, shoving the bundle of clothes into his chest and slamming the door shut on her way out. 

Eddie is anemic and tends to eat breakfast when the sun is going down, and Robin is Robin, so it’s a tight fit getting the thermal on, followed by the t-shirt. But looking in the mirror, he thinks he likes it, gives an experimental and not at all vain flex of his arms that makes the sleeves of the tshirt roll back up toward the round of his shoulders and yeah, he likes that. And when he steps out of his room, Robin and Eddie already hovering and humming their approval, that warmth starts to build and bloom all over again. 

And the rest is a little hazy from there. Robin offers him two refrigerator-chilled potstickers from last night’s dinner, something about fuel for your evening, Stevening, while Eddie pours himself a bowl of corn pops and prattles about something he learned in his music theory class, dissonance and skipped beats, and Steve can understand the feeling. And then they’re both kicking him out with an all too solemn godspeed, soldier. Eddie even salutes him. 

Andy lives on the opposite side of campus in a cropping of apartments in a building that looks kind of like a castle, old brownstone and wrought iron. She buzzes him up, opens the door in a thin turtleneck and jeans, her head tilting and her lip pouting, just a little.

“Where’d the polo shirt go?” 

“I changed.” Excellent, he thinks, how astute of him. She smiles.

“I can see. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a Bikini Kill fan though.” He’s trying to focus on her as she leads him deeper into her apartment, though his eyes still wander. Old wood flooring that’s barely visible underneath the thick swaths of patterned rugs. A crushed velvet, lime green sofa sitting in front of a fireplace that’s packed full with books. The kitchen is tucked into a corner, a little patch of black and white linoleum, old appliances. She’s pouring wine at the counter with her foot pressed into her other calf in a sort of shortened tree pose, and she’s asking him if he likes red, and he nods, all the while thinking to himself that he hasn’t consumed enough wine that doesn’t come in boxes to really care what color it is. 

They sit down on the lime green sofa, her arm draped over the back of it, fingers tipped toward him. And he’s trying not to be such a dweeb about it, really, he’s not, but it only takes a few bashful glances to know that she very much is not wearing a bra. And he likes that, likes that a lot. Likes the soft curve and fold of her stomach with the way she’s turned toward him, the stretch of her jeans at her hips, her thighs, and his mouth goes dry around a gulp of wine when he starts to think about that painting again, and he starts to think about her, and he starts to think about her and the painting together. He starts to wonder, to wonder, to wonder what similarities he might find between the two. 

There’s conversation, quiet and meandering and murmuring, their mouths staining dark and rosy from the wine, bodies turning warm and pliant and inching closer, closer, closer. And it all starts to melt, empty glasses set aside and her hand slipping into the back of his hair and she’s going to be the one in control, isn’t she? Fine by him, lax and languid in her hands, letting her tilt his face toward her. The first kiss is surprisingly sweet, just a peck to the corner of his mouth that makes him breathe hard through his nose in a petty huff of anticipation. She grins, lets the next one take its time, a little deeper, a little more heat, open mouth against open mouth, and he groans when her tongue slips behind his teeth. 

This would be enough, he thinks. This time, at least. Her settling into his lap, little pants of breath between the wet snap of lips and spit and tongues. His hands squeeze at her thighs, coaxing a skittering sound from her throat when he reaches back and cups her ass, fingers splayed and pressing petulant. He’s going to feel her fingers in his scalp for a few days, the little hurts, little pulls. The next time she pulls away she presses her hand into his chest to keep him at bay, even as he tilts his chin up, feeling young in his eagerness as she smiles wide-eyed at him.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Both of them whispering, and when they both realize they don’t know why they’re whispering, both of them giggling, getting away with something when she pulls him up off the couch and into her bedroom. 

“Why is this shirt so tight?” She huffs it out with the tshirt halfway rucked up his torso, his hair falling in his face as he curls over trying to help her get it off, both of them breathing out a laugh when the fabric finally is up and over and off of him.

“Oh baby, your hair.” He likes baby, baby feels good, feels like another warm bloom in his chest, his smile turning sheepish when she reaches both hands into his hair, shaking it out at the roots before smoothing it back for him. He chases after her hand, manages to press a kiss to her palm before she’s reaching for the hem of his, Eddie’s, thermal. It comes off easier, quieter, her eyes softening as she takes in his bare chest, catching him off guard when she ducks her head down to press a kiss to the dip that connects the lines of his collar bone, there and gone, little sweetness, little warmth as she steps back and grins. 

“Do you wanna lay down for me?” Not even a thought, just ligament and muscle moving, some sort of game dancing between their eyes as he settles back on his elbows against the dark fabric of her duvet. He watches the fine flicker of her fingers make deft work of the buttons of her jeans. An absent-minded thing, the heel of his palm pressed to the ache, to the heat. He’s already hard, already smearing warm against the front of his boxers watching her step out of her jeans.

“Oh fuck, honey.” A little pained, the sweet prickle of agony, of being right. A vision somewhere between obscenity and divinity, he thinks, though that would be playing into the madonna-whore complex their professor was lecturing about last week. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care about much of anything except continuing to look at Andy, the soft divot at her waist where her white cotton thong settles against the soft curve of skin, and the dark bloom of curls along the sides of the material where her thighs touch. He was right, and now he’s doomed. 

She smiles, finger hooking in the hem of her shirt and pulling it up just a little, exposing the sweet dip and swell of her stomach, and suddenly he’s not so interested in just laying back any more. Greedy, he feels the slick, desperate curl of it in his gut. Greedy when he shuffles up onto his knees and crawls to the end of the bed. Greedy when his hands curl at the fat of her hips and he pulls her in closer so he can press the open heat of his mouth just above her navel, soft and warm and he wants more of it, of her. She sighs, a long, languid sound that he wants to hear more of, dipping his head down to mouth at the jut of her hip, dampening the fabric slung taut there. 

Limbs tangled with limbs, some of it graceless, awkward, some of it perfect motion. She lays out like a painting, like the painting, for him, her turtleneck curled up around her sternum so he can palm a handful of her breast, settling down between her thighs and wasting no time in dragging his tongue through her cunt. 

She wasn’t wrong about the trends. Hairless bodies, smooth bodies, flinchingly pristine bodies. And that’s fine, he thinks, been with plenty of bodies like that, made his body like that for a while too. But he likes this, likes her, the sense and sate of it, the scent of it, even if it makes him a pervert, lapping at her while he curls two fingers inside her. And somewhere in the simpering sear of it, his hips have started to jerk and stutter into the mattress beneath him, picking up a stilted speed when she starts to moan, clipped sounds and his name and he wants it and he wants it and he wants it so bad. She comes with a long sigh that cracks high into a whine, her thighs tensing and slackening around his face. And he feels a warmth of his own, relief of his own, though the reality of what he did turns him sheepish, pressing a bashful smile into the swell of her inner thigh. 

“Did you?” Her words crackle breathless with her grin, peering down at him from behind her forearm and he can barely look at her, turning his face back into her skin, letting his teeth graze there a little mean.

“Maybe, shut up.” Her laugh bursts and bubbles up, her head tossed back, eyes crinkled shut as he crawls up and up and up, not evening minding the uncomfortable cooling in his jeans when he presses a sloppy kiss to her mouth, turning her laugh into a satisfied hum. 

“Hmm, kinda feminist of you coming in your jeans just from eating me out.” Speechless, and he kind of likes it, huffing out a breathless laugh as he watches the cartoonish jump of her eyebrows. He presses a kiss between them, sweet and simple, warm all over when he pulls back to find her smiling at him.

“I like you, a lot.” That whispering thing again, a little shy, a little young, and a little uncertain. But there’s no need for it, not when she tilts her chin up and presses a kiss to his cheek, the round of it, the warmth of it.

“I like you too, Steve.”

[hiraya-rawr]

DITZY DUMB READER AND AL HAITHAM

and everyone wonders why in teyvat is the grand sage candidate / akademiya scribe even friends with you 😭 like no offense, but you're not exactly... um...

"Al Haitham! Look at the little mushroom puppies 🥺 do you think they're edible?"

"(Name), that's a monster and please don't even try to eat the– NO PUT THAT DOWN."

Little does everyone know, you've been childhood friends since you were babbling toddlers. Only he understands how your mind works, likewise, only you could understand him (somewhat :// ).

He rambles to you when he's stuck on an academic project. You don't really get it but you actually provide "insightful comments" (they don't make sense but somehow al haitham makes something out of it).

"I did everything right yet somehow, the results came out wrong. The chemical isn't supposed to be blue. Am I missing something?"

"Why not just add blue food coloring to make it blue!"

"Hmm... you're right. I should add a new mixture to the final product."

"Yay! I helped!"

And you may be a bit of a ditz, but that doesn't mean you don't notice how everyone looks at you with confused faces in a conversation. Only Al Haitham seems to understand everything you say, taking into account your comments which others would brush aside.

You're two ends of a spectrum— but completely in sync with each other.

[blitzwhore]

Wear Your Pride

Stolitz | 7.9k | Explicit 🔞 | Smut, fluff, humor, teasing, clothed sex, sex in the van, Stolas has a cloaca, imp anatomy, dirty talk (see more tags on AO3)

Thanks @stolitzsings for the beta help and encouragement! ❤️

Excerpt:

Showing up at the Imp City Pride Parade naked as the day he was born had seemed like a great idea when he left the house. It was his one chance to be overtly sexual and obnoxious around his friends and coworkers without getting scolded for it. After all, Pride was the event where being a freaky pervert, even by Hell’s standards, was something to be celebrated.

The moment Stolas arrived, though, Blitzø knew he was fucked.

The fishnet shirt that left nothing to the imagination. The matching earring, hair dye and eye shadow. The grabbable choker. Those fucking shorts. Christ. And Blitzø thought his ’outfit’ had been sexual. He had nothing on Stolas’ slutty-ass look. The man was literally sex on legs.

He was going to spend the whole parade hard as a rock, wasn’t he?

“Blitzø!” Stolas smiled when he saw him, trotting elegantly towards the van with those deliciously long legs of his. Via, who was by Stolas’ side, rolled her eyes at her dad’s earnest excitement and joined Loona a bit farther down the street. “Oh, I’m so delighted to be here—I’ve never attended a pride parade before!”

Blitzø leaned on the window frame and gave Stolas a look.

“Well, for a newbie, you sure know how to dress for the occasion.” He didn’t bother hiding his hunger as he gave Stolas’ body an appreciative look, his gaze lingering on those shorts that hugged his thighs beautifully. “It should be illegal to go outside looking so fuckable, you know.”

“Oh?” Stolas bent down so they were face to face. He looked so smug, the fucking flirt. “Like what you see, then, darling?”

“Maybe I do,” Blitzø said, leaning back on his seat for Stolas to appreciate his looks as well.

As expected, Stolas’ eyes widened at the sight of his naked body.

“Hmm. Likewise, I must say,” he replied, touching Blitzø’s chest right by the pan flag. He ran the tip of a long finger down Blitzø’s side all the way to his waist, making him shiver.

“Yeah?” Blitz buried his hand in Stolas’ chest feathers and, looking Stolas in the eye, trailed it up to hook one finger around his collar and pull him closer. Stolas hooted, and his feathers puffed up with delight as a flustered blush spread over his pretty face. “Bet you’ll like it even more when I spend this whole parade hard as a fucking rock because of you, you slutty, slutty bird,” he murmured, lowering his voice in that way that never failed to make Stolas shiver.

Stolas giggled, a tiny out-of-breath sound that traveled right down to Blitzø’s cock. “I’m sure I will enjoy that indeed,” he purred, leaning so far into the van that his beak practically brushed against Blitzø’s cheek.

Blitzø nipped playfully at Stolas’ neck. “Better stay close to the window to block the view,” he said lowly. “Unless you want everyone to see what you do to me, babe.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[nightghoul381]

Ellis Twilight~ Main Route Chapter 1

Disclaimer for route warnings | Masterlist

Additional Content Warnings: None

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

Part 1

--What is happiness?

It’s like a twilight sky that changes color the moment it burns into your eyes…

Even though it holds my heart forever and never lets go, I can never have the same one again.

Time, stop—don’t let this happiness fade away.

(From today onwards, my life will be monitored by the members of the assassin organization “Crown” that controls evil with evil.)

As a ‘fairytale keeper’, it is my duty to record their sins—my only lifeline.

Getting ready in front of the mirror, I try to re-energize.

(Honestly, I’m scared to face ‘sin’ again…)

(Up to this point, I’ve only had to deal with complaints at the post office or handling deliveries in crazy busy situations.)

(I’ll be okay, I’m sure it will work out somehow.)

Kate: “Okay, only one month. If I try, I can do this…okay.”

I repeat this to myself like a mantra, opened the door and took a brisk step forward--.

???: “Woah.”

Kate: “Kya!?”

I accidentally bump the tip of my nose into the chest of someone who was standing in front of the door.

Kate: “I-I’m sorry…!”

Ellis: “I’m sorry too...are you hurt?”

(Oh…this guy--)

--Flashback—

Harrsion: “…So what are you going to do now that you’ve explained everything so thoroughly, Victor?”

Victor: “Hmm…That’s right…”

Ellis: “Shall I kill her?”

(Eh--?)

Ellis: “She doesn’t look happy at all, but I’ll take the job.”

--End Flashback—

(He was the first to suggest killing me.)

(But, after that…)

--Flashback—

Ellis: “I’m Ellis.”

Kate: “Ellis… Nice to meet you.”

Ellis: “Mmhmm… likewise. Jude and I are often away on business.”

Ellis: “While I’m here, I’ll make you as happy as possible.”

--End Flashback—

With the same mouth, a line that sounded like a marriage proposal was said without hesitation… what an odd person.

(Why is Ellis in front of my room?)

Part 2

(Ah, I see. Surveillance has already started.)

If I misbehave, I might be killed.

(I can’t just keep acting like everything is the same.)

(I’ve already stepped into a different world.)

Kate: “Mr. Ellis, right…? I look forward to working with you from today onwards.”

Ellis: “Yes, Ellis Twilight, nice to meet you… no need to be so formal.”

Ellis laughed lightly and looked into my face with concern.

Ellis: “…your nose is getting red.”

Ellis: “Sorry, the door opened just as I was about to knock, so I couldn’t avoid it.”

A long, slender arm holds the door.

Behind his curly hair, as his name suggests, are twilight eyes.

I gasped when I notice how close we were and hurriedly apologized.

Kate: “No! I’m sorry I got anxious and jumped out…”

Ellis: “Are you anxious? Why?”

Kate: “What!? Um…”

(“I was getting anxious because I was scared of living with all of you.”)

(I can’t say that…)

Kate: “It’s like I was transferred to a new department that I don’t know at all…”

Kate: “It’s like… Gaahhh!”

Ellis: “Gaahhh…”

Ellis blinks in surprise.

(Ah, that was too weird…)

Ellis: “… you’re a cute person.”

Kate: “Um… it’s okay, you don’t have to follow me…”

(I should have been able to make up and excuse, but I feel so embarrassed.)

As I avert my gaze, looking for a place to move to, Ellis returned to a straight face and spoke in a whisper,

Ellis: “ I’d like to give you your first job in the ‘new department’… is that okay?”

Kate: “---Wow…”

(What a beautiful garden.)

I was taken to the courtyard of Crown castle…

There was a beautiful English garden that had been carefully maintained down to the last detail.

Seasonal flowers are in full bloom, and it smells like paradise.

(Last night, I could only feel the majesty and dangerous atmosphere of the towering castle…)

(But there are places where I feel so at ease.)

As I followed Ellis down the path, admiring the beautiful garden, a gazebo came into view.

Tea and scones are set on the table, as though a tea party is about to begin.

Ellis: “Please sit.”

Kate: “Oh…uh, thank you.”

Ellis pulled out a chair and was waiting for me, so I sat down in the chair, confused ,and he sat in the seat across from me.

(You said earlier that you wanted to give me a job, but…)

Kate: “Is this where I’ll be working my first job?”

Ellis: “Yeah… your first job is to eat breakfast with me.”

Part 3

Ellis: “Yeah…your first job is to eat breakfast with me.”

(…hmm?)

Ellis: “Tell me about yourself while eating delicious food, I’ll tell you about myself too.”

Ellis: “If you record it, it will count as your report as fairytale keeper, right?”

--CHOICES---------------------------------

That’s honestly helpful/ That honestly helps +4 +4

Isn’t that a nuisance? +4 +4

Why would you help me? +4 +4

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

Kate: “Why are you helping me?”

Ellis: “I thought it would make you happy.”

It seems like he’s seriously trying to help me.

Ellis: “I’ll also tell you about the other members of Crown.”

Ellis: “I think it’s a little scary to live among people you don’t know.”

Kate: “…!”

(I never expected this ‘first job’ to be…)

Kate: “Did you invite me just to relieve my anxiety?”

Ellis: “…That’s a little bit correct.”

Kate: “A little bit?”

Ellis: “It’s also for me to talk to you… that’s the bit that was incorrect.”

A faint smile appears on his lips.

(Maybe my first impression of Ellis last night was a misunderstanding.)

Just being near him made me feel like my temperature dropped instantly.

It felt like something was peeking out at me from the gaping darkness--.

I’m sure I felt that kind of anxiety last night…

(I don’t feel that way from Ellis in front of me now.)

(Maybe it was because I had just witnessed the murder scene.)

I gently pushed aside the strange feeling in my chest and decided not to acknowledge it.

--In hindsight, that turned out to be a mistake.

Part 4

(Anyway, Ellis took the trouble to arrange this for me.)

(I’ll take his word for it and listen to various stories.)

Kate: “Thank you, Ellis.”

Ellis: “I haven’t done anything to deserve your gratitude.”

Ellis: “Do you like sweets? These are scones Victor baked this morning.”

Kate: “Eh? Victor baked…?”

Ellis: “Yes, it’s like his hobby. Al is also a good cook.”

Ellis: “The clotted cream is something I learned from Al and made myself.”

Ellis: “Liam recommended this jam, so he bought it for me.”

Ellis: “Perhaps he knows a lot about what’s trending because he’s a stage actor.”

Ellis: “This meat pie is from the restaurant where Roger took me to lunch the other day. He treats me to drinks often.”

Kate: “W-wait a minute. I want to write down what you just told me…!”

When I take out my notebook that I had kept in my pocket,

Ellis told me a lot about the people in Crown--.

Kate: “Oh, I know about the shop that sells this apricot crumble too! There’s usually quite a line there, right?”

Ellis: “I bought it with Harry. Harry apparently has a sweet tooth and is obsessed with delicious sweets shops.”

Kate: “Hehe… Everyone in Crown is good friends aren’t they?”

(I felt like I was living in another world,)

(I feel relieved to know that we are all people living in the same London.)

(Thanks to Ellis.)

With a big smile on my face, I spread cream on the scone in my hand.

Ellis: “Kate.”

Kate: “Yes…?”

Very naturally, the palm of Ellis’ large hand reached up to the side of my face.

Ellis: “You’re going to get cream stuck in your hair.”

Kate: “Huh? Oh…”

(That’s true, I didn’t notice.)

Ellis scoops up my hair with his fingertips and gently tucks it behind my ear.

Kate: “Thank you.”

Ellis: “You’re welcome… It was so good you went crazy for it didn’t you?”

Ellis, resting his chin on his hand, looked at me and smiled.

Kate: “…Yes, it’s delicious.”

Ellis: “Good.”

(If Ellis can do something like this so casually… he must be popular.)

Realizing that my heart was pounding, I tried to calm down my erratic heartbeat.

Kate: “Preparing a seat, caring about me like this…”

Kate: “Why are you being so kind to me?”

(I don’t remember doing anything to Ellis yesterday that would make him treat me so kindly…)

Ellis: “Kate, you haven’t looked happy since last night.”

Ellis: “I want the people around me to smile as much as possible.”

(That’s all…?)

(Even though I’m a complete stranger to Ellis… I don’t know anything about him.)

Kate: “Do you do this for anyone? Even if you just met for the first time?”

Ellis: “Huh…? Yeah… is that wrong?”

The simple question, in turn, made him look confused.

(Ellis is a bit of an odd person after all.)

(But…)

Kate: “…I’m happy.”

(I’m sure I feel better thanks to Ellis.)

Ellis: “I see… If you don’t hate it, good.”

Part 5

By the time the peaceful breakfast was over, my wariness had completely subsided.

Ellis: “Is going to the theater your hobby?”

Kate: “Yes. In fact, last night I took on an unfamiliar night shift because I wanted money for tickets…”

Ellis: “Heheh… you’re quite passionate.”

I chatted endlessly with Ellis, as if we were new friends.

Then, the sound of another set of footsteps echoed.

Victor: “Hey, hey! This is exciting!”

Ellis: “Victor.”

Kate: “…! Good morning.”

Victor: “Oh, you don’t have to stand up! I don’t want to interrupt your pleasant conversation.”

Victor: “Since Ellis offered to do so, I left breakfast to him… Do you feel a little less nervous?”

Victor kept smiling and looked at me searchingly.

The shadow of the unfathomable feeling I felt from him last night has faded, and I can feel the warmth of concern in his jewel-like eyes.

(Maybe it’s because I enjoyed my first job with Ellis and it relieved my tension.)

Kate: “Yes. Thanks to Ellis and the delicious scones you baked for me.”

Victor: “…”

When I smiled gratefully, Victor seemed a little surprised.

But soon a smile appeared on his face, like a flower blooming.

Victor: “Yeah, yeah. Your smile says ‘I’m so happy to be Crown’s exclusive fairytale keeper!’”

Ellis: “…Did it really say that much?”

Kate: “…hehe.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed as he watched my shoulders shake.

Victor: “Well I had two requests for you as fairytale keeper, keeping our secret and recording our sins.”

Victor: “The former is fine, but the latter I would imagine has you at a loss as to what to do specifically.”

Victor: “May I give a little explanation?”

Kate: “Yes. Please.”

Victor: “It’s not difficult. I want you to carefully observe the people of Crown and write down what you feel is a sin.”

Victor: “I’ll leave it to you to figure out how.”

Victor: “You can have multiple people watch over you on a rotating basis or you can choose one person to work with.”

(Observe the members of Crown carefully. I am free to choose my methods and partners… I see.)

Kate: “I understand, um, how far does my surveillance extend?”

Victor: “Even though I say surveillance, I don’t mean to restrict your freedom of movement other than going out alone.”

Victor: “I may ask you to accompany us on missions, but you can spend the rest of the time however, you like.”

I was a little relieved as I had expected to be under much stricter surveillance.

Kate: “Understood. Thank you for your explanation.”

Victor: “…Honestly, I was a little surprised just now. I didn’t expect to see your smile so soon.”

Victor: “You witnessed a terrible scene, and we are an evil organization that cannot be said to be safe.”

He gave me a joking wink…

Then Victor squinted his eyes as if looking at bright sunlight.

Victor: “I hope that the darkness that will inevitably touch you from now on won’t take away your smile.”

Strangely enough, I didn’t believe what I was told was a lie.

(The people of Crown are definitely dark and terrifying people who don’t mind harming others.)

However—I thought that if I looked deep into my heart, there were feelings that I could understand.

Victor: “Then I’ll excuse myself. The Queen’s Aide is quite busy.”

Victor seemed to have just come to see what was going on and immediately left without coming to the table.

(To record their sins, first I’ll have to take a good look at the members of Crown.)

In that case—I’d like Ellis to be the first one I want to know more about.

Such feelings come naturally.

Kate: “Um, Ellis…What are your plans for today?”

However, my question was interrupted by a harsh voice.

Jude: “Yer supposed to be workin. How dare ya slack off.”

Ellis and Kate: “!”

I jumped at the sound of a loud voice.

(That voice is--)

When I hesitantly turned around, I saw Jude standing in the garden with his arms folded, looking irritated.

(Oh, you’re angry…!)

Ellis: “Sorry. I’ll go now.”

Without even standing up, Ellis leisurely turned his gaze toward Jude and answered.

(Such carelessness….)

Jude clicked his tongue, quickly flipped his cloak with a flourish and left.

Ellis: “…As you can see, that is today’s schedule.”

Kate: “You work for a trading company right?”

(Jude is the president and Ellis is the president’s assistant...right?)

(I was thinking of observing Ellis, but maybe I should try another day.)

Kate: “Thank you for making time for me. Good luck with your work.”

Ellis: “……”

Ellis was staring at me, thinking about something--.

Kate: “Um…?”

Ellis: “If you don’t mind, would you like to come with me?”

Kate: “Why are you helping me?”

Next Chapter

[puttingherinhistory]

Excuse me while I sound like a crotchety old geezer for a minute here

I've seen this attitude pushed more on social media that "kids and especially teenagers are naturally defiant and naturally want to upset and piss off adults and parents and teachers need to just accept this and deal with it" and tbh, I don't agree. I don't remember wanting to piss off or upset anyone on purpose for fun as a kid or teenager.

What I do remember is that when I was getting a budding sense of morality and justice I would stand up to misogyny / racism / homophobia or general cruelty from adults and/or peers and it would usually be dismissed as "oh she's just at an age where she wants to be rebellious for the sake of it, she just wants to defy adults for fun because she's at that age" and that logic was used to dismiss it.

Likewise the same logic was being applied to kids, I'm talking especially privilged kids like the white kids and the boys especially the cishet boys, with budding cruelty that was a result of unchecked privilege. Like boys being grossly misogynistic and homophobic, "oh he just wants to be rebellious and piss off adults, it's fine". Do you see the issue of brushing the behavior of marginalized kids who are developing a sense of justice with the same stroke of privileged kids being cruel and bigoted? Oh that they're both just being rebellious and trying to get a rise out of you and it's fine just ignore it don't try to actually address it or do anything about it?

I think kids and especially teens usually have more complicated reasons being their behavior than "oh it's hard wired into their biology that they just HAVE to be defiant for the sake of it at that age" and using that logic prevents adults from actually having to think about and address the root of their behavior.

It also lets adults off the hook from actually having to do something about dangerous behaviors kids and especially teens do, like binge drinking until they have to be hospitalized. "Yeah it's just normal and natural because they have to be rebellious and make stupid decisions at that age, it's just hard wired into their brains that they gotta" is just fucking lazy. When I was at that age I understood drinking until I blacked out and needed to be taken to the hospital was bad and should be avoided because adults in my life had taken the time to explain to me it was bad. I was actually capable of rationalizing "hmm, alcoholism and alcohol poisoning are bad and I should avoid those things" and being warned against it did not tempt me to go out and drink dangerous amounts. Why the fuck would it? That makes no god damn sense and is just a lazy excuse not to actually teach kids better in a way they can understand.

Also I mean sure, part of it is laziness, but I also think some adults are so scared of looking like the buzzkill killjoy to young people because they're afraid of aging and actually having to look like a grownup. A lot of this is our culture's worship of youth and demonization of aging, so a lot of people are really scared of looking "out of touch" from the youth and really want to look like the cool hip understanding adult.

But also part of this is privileged adults wanting to protect the behavior of privileged kids. Just rebranded "boys will be boys" if you will. Of course an adult man is going to say "oh come on he's just a teen, teens are gonna be stupid and want to break the rules" about a teenage boy behaving in a reckless and cruel way. Of course white adults are going to say this about white kids behaving in a reckless and cruel way. They got away with it when they were teens so of course they want the same for today's youth who share their privilege.

Anyway it's time to stop being lazy caregivers. Kids aren't a bunch of stupid animals that just have something hard wired into their brains telling them to break rules and be defiant with no deeper motivation to their behavior than some "rebellious defiant" hormone in their brain mindlessly controlling them. It's degrading to oversimplify their behavior like that, they are human beings after all. There are almost always going to be deeper reasons for their behavior, most often that they're an underprivileged kid with budding morality and justice, or that they have a privileged background that has resulted in their more reckless and cruel behavior going unchecked. If you're someone who is a guardian or caretaker over kids and teens you do actually have a responsibility to exam the deeper reasons behind their behavior and address it instead of just dismissing it at "oh well it's just their weird hormonal teen brains commanding them to break rules and be rebellious without any deeper reasoning, time to just ignore it and not take it seriously"

[qqueenofhades]

as a starting history major i wanna ask how do you read/evaluate academic history papers/books? i'm trying to avoid just blindly agreeing with whatever the author is writing because it seems correct. how can you tell what is good scholarship and what is more shaky?

This is a great question for you as a freshman history major to ask (many of my toiling colleagues and I can attest that we wish more of you would!) and shows that you're already taking initiative and investment in your studies and want to be the best prepared you can. So truly -- thank you! Us on the faculty/staff/administrative end of academia can feel as if we are pouring into an empty bucket at times, and it's always gratifying to hear otherwise. We really appreciate it.

As a college freshman and/or underclassman (or so I'm assuming) your first job is learning how to collect basic information from the things you read, collate and cite them accurately, and make them converse intelligently with each other in an entry-level piece of academic writing (such as an essay responding to an assigned prompt). So before you have to worry about understanding complex nuance and granular-level fact-checking, the first step is just getting comfortable with academic forms, styles, and conventions. There's an occasional anti-intellectual strand of thinking that pops up on Tumblr, basically insisting that everyone everywhere should be able to understand everything in fifth-grade words and if not then it's Elitist Gatekeeping, but this is a symptom of TikTok brainrot where people's brains have been literally rewired to only process spoon-fed chunks of incredibly simplistic (and uh, often wrong) information, and literally can't parse anything longer, even if it's written in accessible language. Yes, many academics are not necessarily great writers, but you also have to let go of the mindset that you can speed-read once and understand everything. You will need to slow down, take your time, and make a note of concepts that are confusing or that you want to double-check, words you need to look up, and things that make you say "hmm I should look into that more," whether because you're interested or they seem questionable. I always read academic texts or papers (I prefer hard copy, because I am Fucking Old) with a pen in hand, because if I don't, I often feel like I didn't read it at all.

Basically, this is an interactive process between you and the text, and requires you to develop a different kind of reading mentality than just buzzing through a novel or fanfic for pleasure. You have to expect that it will take time and that if you regularly skive off the readings, you won't be prepared for class, your professors will be annoyed, and you won't be able to write good essays, because you haven't engaged with the material. In your case, it sounds like that will be less of a problem, because you are eager to know how to do it right, but I can tell you from my experience that nothing frustrates us more than students who just won't do the reading (and you know, use ChatGPT to write their essays) because then what are you even DOING here? What do you want to get out of this? Why are you wasting your precious tuition money like this? Yes, you probably have to fill a requirement, but STILL. It's disrespectful to your teacher, who has invested a lot of effort in being here to help you with this and doesn't want you to just quit because it looks hard, and your peers, and to you. So anyway, /Captain Holt voice/ apparently that's a trigger for me. Basically, if you learn nothing else from this ask: please do the reading. Even if it's only to admit you need more help or want to talk about this concept in class or otherwise take advantage of all the structures that are in fact there to help you understand it! Thankee.

Likewise, because you're an underclassman, you have an advantage in that your teacher will select the class readings for you ahead of time. That means you will be receiving things that a professional has already checked, decided are useful and trustworthy, and you don't have to do independent research and vetting yourself (that will come if you decide for some godforsaken reason to pursue graduate and/or doctoral study). So you don't need to spend tons of extra time and effort deciding if the sources given to you in class are reliable on a basic and functional level; your professor has already done the work for you to make sure that they are. Your job is now to read those sources, keep a record of what they say (hence the aforementioned pen or other way to make quick notes) and figure out how to put them together in an essay. For example, if Author A cites Factor A as, say, the main cause of the fall of the Western Roman Empire, and Author B insists that Factor B was in fact more critical, what is your best approach to reconciling that information? You would search in the rest of those texts to see what else they say in support of their position, and you would probably end up with a qualified statement to the effect of, "While Author A argues A, Author B thinks B, representing the lack of consensus and the difficulty in attributing one single cause to an event as complicated as the fall of Rome." (And then because you're smart, you would go on to mention Byzantium and the Eastern Roman Empire and show that you are aware of the further context.) All of which is true! Historians do that all the time! You don't need to select THE RIGHT ANSWER and vigorously discredit all other theories, ever, and we tend to look suspiciously on people who do (cough cough Philippa Langley).

In other words, we are certainly not expecting you as a freshman, and even as a more advanced student, to be able to pick out ONE ANSWER from the material. We just want to see evidence that you have in fact read it, are able to evaluate and place theories side by side and possibly make a judgment as to which one you find more compelling, and also to properly cite where you got that information. We've seen a lot recently about plagiarism and that being the pretext on which Harvard president Claudine Gay was forced to resign (which is a whole other can of worms, but never mind). A lot of professors think that saying "Don't Do Plagiarism" is enough, but then don't explain what it is and the different forms it can take. It's not just a matter of copying verbatim chunks of someone else's work (or you know, ALL OF IT, like certain recently discredited YouTube scumbags) and acting like it's your own. If you are relying substantially on someone else's work, whether in their wording, arguments, conclusions, structure, or anything else, even if you've changed some of the words (yep, still plagiarism!), that needs to be cited appropriately according to the relevant style guide. Direct quotes from anyone need to go in quotation marks or indented blocks and have the author cited immediately afterward. History usually uses Chicago, MLA, or MHRA, and you can find cheat sheets for how to do that online. It's a pretty simple and straightforward style, and your professor will be extra impressed.

If you're expected to do an independent project or a senior research thesis, as some undergraduate history students do, then it will come when you have already had three years of experience in reading, evaluating, and writing historical scholarship, you will probably have a faculty member assigned to you for one-on-one mentoring and personalized feedback sessions, and they will be able to provide suggestions and support for useful sources. So even then, you still don't have to do it entirely on your own. They'll probably also be MORE than happy to debate with you which ones are good and which ones are suspect, because it's all a part of developing your ability to flex that muscle for yourself. (And as noted, faculty members Will Have Strong Opinions.) That likewise doesn't mean you just have to copy whatever they say (at least if you have a good teacher who wants you to think for yourself and not just be a mini-clone of their pet theories), but it means that by the time you reach that stage, you will have been prepared enough to feel confident in taking more steps on your own. I think not enough people realize that studying history (or anything, really) isn't just throwing you out there and being like "tough luck sucker, do it all yourself."

That's why academia is so collaborative, why plenty of historians with doctorates and tenure will still have to say "I don't know, let me get back to you" when someone asks them a question at a conference, and you don't have to fear that if you don't have The One Right Answer, you will be immediately exposed as a fraud and thrown out. History as a discipline is also moving away from the 19th-century German approach that attempted to systematize it as a singular social science with One Right Answer, and to focus more on multiple perspectives and incomplete answers. That's why the goal is not necessarily to know everything (which alas, is impossible), but to make better sense of what we can know and search for ways in which the existing record is flawed and needs to be revised, expanded, or reworked with new perspectives (which have existed all this time, but haven't been privileged by the white male western academy for the obvious reasons). And that work is fun and important! I don't want you to be scared of getting to that point, because someone will be there to support you the whole way and by the time you do, it will make sense to you in a way it probably doesn't right now, just because it's a new skill and like any new skill, it takes a long time to learn and to be able to apply confidently, consistently, and at a high level. And plenty of us who do it as a career still often have to say "I don't know, let me ask Dr. So-and-so who specializes in this," so yeah. It's a process of becoming comfortable with both learning how to answer what we can, and to ask others for help with that, and it never really ends. Which is the fun part. There's so much more to do.

Good luck!

[blueesnow]

(4/6) Ichinose Tokiya's Private Story [Utapri Live Emotion]

Ch 1: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 6 with Tokiya)

-Shining Agency's Hallway- Haruka: (Hmm… Oh no. What should I do with this…) Tokiya: …Oh, Nanami-kun. To think you have such a troubled face, what exactly happened? Haruka: Ichinose-san. Actually someone I worked with before suddenly gave me two tickets to a stage play. Haruka: Since I had it I thought I'd like to go and check it out, but my friend… Tomo-chan suddenly can't make it since it conflicted with her schedule. Tokiya: I see. So there's one left unused huh. Haruka: Yes. If only I could find just one more person who want to go… Tokiya: …. Can I see that ticket? Haruka: Oh yeah, here. Tokiya: This… Isn't this a play that was created by an up-and-coming director? Haruka: Ichinose-san, don't tell me you're interested in it? Tokiya: That's right, it has been a hot topic for some time now that this play would feature quite a bolder approach that we'd never seen before. Tokiya: Since there might be a lot that I could learn from this, I was just thinking about ordering a ticket for a while. Haruka: Really!? If you're free today… then here I'll give you two of these tickets, so why don't you go there with someone else. Tokiya: Ah… thank you for being so considerate. I do appreciate your feelings. Tokiya: Nanami-kun, since it went like this, why don't you and I go together?

Ch 2: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 11 with Tokiya)

-Shining Agency's Hallway- Haruka: Eh…are you okay going with me? Tokiya: These tickets were originally given to you in the first place. Wouldn't it be strange if the person herself didn't even go there? Tokiya: And besides didn't you want to see this play too, that's why you were trying to search for someone else to go with? Haruka: Yes, but… Ichinose-san is an idol after all, I thought it'd be troublesome for you if we go there together. Tokiya: Thanks for looking out for me, but you don't have to worry too much about it this time. Tokiya: Since I already have experiences in the entertainment industry, I at least knew how to blend in the crowd and erase my aura. Please don't underestimate me. Haruka: Well then…if you say so. I'm in your care. -Later on- -Theater- Tokiya: Look, we got into the theater without any problems right. With these seats we should be able to enjoy the show at our leisure. Haruka: Fufu, it's not that much longer until the show starts. I'm getting excited. Tokiya: This sense of excitement that gradually increases is one of the joys of going to the theater. Tokiya: It seems like there's a lot of effort put into the music for this performance, is that what you're aiming for? Tokiya: Apparently the director originally studied opera. It seems like we might be able to see a lot of variety of music in this play. Haruka: To think you already know so far about it, as expected of Ichinose-san…! Tokiya: It's not that big of a thing. …Guess I talked a bit too much. Tokiya: Oh, it's starting. Let's enjoy it to the fullest.

Ch 3: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 21 with Tokiya)

-Theater- Haruka: Phew… That was so good…! Tokiya: You're right, that was indeed a good play. I was surprised at how they arranged the main theme to each scene. Tokiya: Especially towards the end. The way they're immersing themselves in their roles by layering the rising emotions with the tense rhythms. It was such a brilliant move. Haruka: Yes. Just thinking of it again makes my heart beats faster… It's as if the sounds are overflowing from the bottom of my heart! Tokiya: Looks like you might create a wonderful music once again. I hope you can also make an amazing song for us, ST☆RISH, too. Haruka: I'll do my best…! Thank you so much for coming here together with me today. Tokiya: Likewise. I also gained a new inspiration just like you, although I do feel a little bit jealous. Tokiya: Next time, I will be the one who'll be helping you in your composing. Haruka: To think you would say that…I'm happy to hear that. Tokiya: I will definitely make it happen. Next time, please allow me to invite you to my workplace. (choices) <Is it really okay...?> Haruka: I'm happy that you would invite me but, is it really okay…? Tokiya: Of course. Or don't tell me, you're not interested a bit in my work? …Fufu, don't make that face, I'm just kidding. Tokiya: I'm just teasing you a little bit. It's because I want you to be there that I invited you out in the first place. <I want to go!> Haruka: Ichinose-san's work…! It'd be my pleasure, I want to go and see it! Tokiya: When I hear you said it like that, it made me feels like I have to absolute show you my best performance. Tokiya: I will do my best so that I could provide you with some good inspirations. (back to story) Tokiya: That's right…I'm also currently in the middle of drama filming, so why don't you go and check that out. Haruka: Yes, gladly! I'll be looking forward to it from today.

Ch 4: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 31 with Tokiya)

-Hotel Lobby- Haruka: (The location for the drama filming…is here, right. I wonder where's Ichinose-san is…) Tokiya: I'm right here, Nanami-kun. I've been waiting for you. Haruka: Ichinose-san, thank you for today. What kind of scene are they going to shoot here? Tokiya: It's a scene where the young man, who I play, finally comes to a party while pretending to be someone else's acquaintance. According to the script, it's supposed to be around here… Director: Ichinose-san, can you come here please? Tokiya: Yes, I'll be right there! My apologize, Nanami-kun. I'll be leaving you for a while. Haruka: Don't worry about it. I can also look after your luggage for you if you don't mind? Tokiya: Thank you for your consideration. I'll be back soon, so you can wait for me on that sofa. Haruka: (This title…is that the original novel the drama is based on. There are a lot of sticky notes stuck on it…) - Tokiya: Sorry to keep you waiting so long. Ah…that book, please don't look at it too much. Haruka: I'm sorry, I got a bit curious. Looks like you also check the original work very thoroughly. Tokiya: That's because I want to fully express the emotional subtleties that cannot be felt just from the script alone. Tokiya: And besides, it's natural for me, as an actor, to read the original work, right. It's not something that's unusual. Haruka: (But still, it's so amazing that you're reading this so intently. I can feel the passion that Ichinose-san puts into his role.) Tokiya: You're also here too for today. I hope that you properly watch me while I get serious.

Ch 5: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 41 with Tokiya)

Ch 6: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 51 with Tokiya)

[lorei-writes]

You seem genuinely nice in your curiosity, so I thought I'd share my thoughts. Maybe this is not the right approach to how to go about interacting on tumblr, but if I notice that there's a blog that I've interacted with somewhat frequently (whether it be liking/reblogging their posts, sending requests when requests are open, etc) and then I notice that interaction is one-sided (either they don't follow me back, they never ever like or reblog my posts and I see them interacting with many others in fandom so I know they are active), I dunno, but I get the feeling they don't like me or my posts, maybe I post too many spoilers, maybe I flood the tags and my posts are annoying or some other third unknown option - and then it snowballs and I worry I'm annoying others with my comments or reblogs or whatever. And I slow my interaction with others out of fear of not being liked or just plain shyness. And sometimes I have unfollowed them. Because, again, I dunno, but I feel like if they don't want to interact with me, perhaps I should not interact with them? When those posts come across my feed because reblogged by a mutual, I will sometimes read/look at if a suitor I like, but when I see who the op is, I become hesitant with interacting, and end up not interacting at all.

I know, devil's advocate - what if this blogger who didn't interact with me has never seen my blog or any of my posts. That might fly in Genshin or HSR fandoms, but not Ikemen. I think by now most everyone knows each other around here (at least those who have been posting for a while and post regularly/frequently). And I'm not the only one who has experienced this...

Thank you for listening to my rambling.

Thank you for sharing your experience!

Hmm... I must admit, Anon, what you've said has left me somewhat conflicted. I can agree that reaching out to a person repeatedly and the effort not being reciprocated can be disheartening. I do think that in this situation it is reasonable to adjust either your expectations ("I know they may not say anything back, but I did enjoy their work regardless, so I will share it." // no expectations of friendship, interacting with posts for the sake of posts alone) or the amount you give out ("I want to have some relationship with this person and they do not reciprocate, therefore I will decrease the amount of effort I put into this." // expectations of friendship, interactions as means of building relationships).

I can tell you that I do not know of a blogger who hasn't appreciated familiar faces in their notification. (Which isn't to devalue your experience. Maybe you met an outlier, maybe this person simply couldn't show it due to their personal circumstances, maybe they thought they showed it and a mismatch in terms of expectations occurred). I can tell you they shouldn't be taken for granted. But I also can tell you that, in some cases, which I do not know whether they are relevant to you, it is simply impossible to give back to everybody.

My experience is what I know best, so allow me to use that as an example. There's over a thousand people following this blog. I do not know all of you. More than this, I do not know all of the creators in the Ikemen Fandom. When I was primarily into Sen, I had no idea who was creating for Pri and was rather surprised to find out that some of those people were considered "big", as I went entirely without ever seeing their names. Even now that I have been invested into Pri for a year, I still find people I have never heard about before... And I still meet people who have no clue who I am or what I do. Likewise, Villains is a fog for me... As I would suspect the "old fandom" may be for you. So, I don't agree with the "most everyone knows each other around here (at least those who have been posting for a while and post regularly/frequently)" statement.

That aside, sometimes it is unfortunate, but it is simply impossible to give back to everybody. And it does suck. Just, hm... I suppose I'd like you to see me now, as it's something I've been struggling with and had to make my peace about? There is only one me. If "just" a hundred of people appear at any given time, or "just" fifty, it is still more than I can reasonably handle. My friendships with people who moved fandoms haven't dissolved and there are only so many relationships I can support. Reliably replying to everything here? I try. But I know I generally can't give back as much as I've received, or at least not in a personal enough manner. It is just too much for a single me. Due to my health issues I am chronically online -- what about people who have more robust offline lives?

Again, I do not know whether that is relevant for your case. It is only that I think it isn't you, as in it isn't about you being a certain way. The situation may just be a result of those mundane circumstances surrounding us. For me personally, a lot of luck is required to expand my circles in a meaningful manner. Of course, it still does suck in the end! Just maybe in a slightly different flavour.

Thank you for listening to my rambles and best of luck <3

[bestworstcase]

half a thought. the cat, "i need to know why my maker has left me here"—singular. "only to leave and make all of [you]." either:

light carved and animated the cat alone

light took all the credit and dark let him

this is soft confirmation dark ascended

jabber is the prototypal human; the brothers made him together, to "finish what the cat started." but he came out "brutal" (uncontrollable) so light decided to unmake him. dark refused. the brothers fought. jabber remained in the end—either dark won that argument or jabber returned on his own, like humans would after him.

in brother-cult doctrine, the god of darkness "forgot" the grimm after he and his brother made humans together. we know from the lost fable that this is not true, that darkness lived among his grimm, and even in the myth he refuses to destroy them and it hurts his feelings when light disdains them as creatures of pure malice. however,

that is precisely what the god of light did to his first creation: the cat figures in the blacksmith’s tale only as the inspiration for the brothers’ creation of jabber. the cat has no relevance or presence in the story after jabber is made. the god of light forgot them.

likewise the motivation ascribed to the grimm by brother-cult doctrine, that they hate humankind out of jealousy because their creator forgot about them in his fascination with humans, is the cat’s motivation exactly.

the cat is the prototypal grimm

light controlled the narrative back in the day, and the story he told about the grimm was a projection of his own failings in regard to the cat

hm. hmm. the cat–

hm. the cat "finds the broken parts of the ever after." in other words, they’re drawn to negativity. empathy. they seek out pain and offer comfort—but, but. jabber was meant to "finish what the cat started" and although he came out more "brutal" than the brothers anticipated, he was "effective" for this purpose. the cat was to find the broken parts and jabber was to act as the reaper, sending them back to the tree for ascension.

and that’s why jabber turned out wrong. the cat became a healer and the brothers created an executioner to "finish what they started," because they didn’t understand what the cat was really doing.

snaps fingers. pattern theory. the cat is untethered from the tree until they’re killed, and then they wind up in the blacksmith’s workshop. the god of light feared they had disrupted the balance and tried to destroy jabber, but darkness remade him, and jabber remained—not a monster but a creature desperate to "fix" his home.

for it is in passing we achieve immortality. fuck. we all got it backwards: ascension didn’t exist—couldn’t exist—until the brothers created HEALING and DEATH. true balance finds its own equilibrium. what was the ever after like in the very beginning? "[the brothers] were given creativity, to imagine what—and who—could replace the wilderness… the brothers built homes for them and gave them roles to play." that isn’t how ascension works! that isn’t how the ever after is anymore! the brothers were children playing with dolls until they disrupted the balance. ascension coagulated in the wake of that disruption.

oh. OH—ambrosius. destruction to clear the wilderness and creativity to replace it. that’s how light thinks it should work because that’s how it DID work before he and his brother changed things. every time they made something new they began by destroying what had been.

so– so the grimm—

hm.

like the cat, grimm are empathetic beings drawn to painful emotions. like both the cat and jabber, they’re predators. like ambrosius’ creations, they crumble into ash and smoke when they die. "you may bask in the powers of creation, but you do not own them" and "this force of pure destruction could not destroy […] so it created." their true purpose cannot be to kill humans, because they were created first; the mythical conceit that they envied humans because darkness forgot them is contradicted by the reality that he didn’t.

they are "manifestations of anonymity."

if i’m right on the origin of ascension and how the ever after worked before, then the rules the brothers set regarding life and death in their new world mimicked the original conditions of the ever after—but only imperfectly, else there would be no afterlife.

the planet’s core is liquid grimm.

the faunus came into being when salem combined the waters of life and grimm into one being and remade herself into something new. the god of darkness made the grimm to find the broken parts of this world, like the cat had done in the ever after, and then…

…either destroy or create.

the pool of grimm creates salem. or else she used it to recreate herself. either way the grimm have the capacity for it.

darkness refused to punish jabber for being what they made him. and then, in the new world he and his brother created together, he… made a new iteration of the cat with jabber’s destructive nature woven into the design and also gave humans a powerful weapon in the form of magic, protecting them from his other creations.

which sounds like a purposeful attempt to recreate the conditions that shifted the balance in the ever after, without being too obvious about it. and that tracks with what we know about him—his contributions outlined in the myth suggest that he set out to make their world into an ecosystem that could exist without them—but hm. still cooking.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

wip game: should we talk about the weather 👀

Hehehehehehe big bang fic!!! Hmm I’ll share the pitch I gave to the event artists (hehehe…)

In a world where certain individuals are capable of sharing their own instincts and feelings — and even occasionally physical strength — with their likewise capable partners, Eddie and Buck, and Hen and Chim are what people sometimes call congeneric minds. It comes in handy in a high stakes profession like firefighting to have two people in such synchronization, able to warn each other of danger without ever having to waste time opening their mouths to speak.

Being so in sync with someone doesn’t necessarily mean smooth sailing communication however. Recently back at work after taking time off post-shooting, Eddie worries about Buck and how he’s been dealing with the events of the last year (last several years, really) but doesn’t know how to bring it up when he himself has always kind of encouraged them to move past life changing events with little discussion. While Hen and Chim are getting along just fine, Chimney and Maddie are dancing around each other and their recent breakup, and Hen feels trapped between disappointing her mother or her wife while being roped into backyard wedding planning.

With danger ever present on the job and turmoil seemingly always bubbling outside it, will everyone find the right words before it’s too late?

AKA what if people could be drift compatible in regular life without giant robots, and they’re all disasters at communicating anyway

And here’s a snippet!

Eddie doesn’t get around to talking to Buck till a week later. They’re in Eddie’s house again, but Buck has started to look exhausted everywhere, all the time, nothing special anymore about the way his eyelids droop when he walks in through this specific door. It’s worse than usual today. They had a hell of a long call — a rockslide down on the PCH, outside of their usual range but it was bad enough that the responding station had called for any back up they could possibly get — and Eddie’s wrist and shoulders and whole damn body aches from the hours of grueling work. Buck has to be feeling it, too. Eddie heads right to the bathroom, grabbing the tube of arnica gel that keeps this household running some days.

He doesn’t know how to bring anything up. We need to talk feels as ridiculous as it does dire. That’s a movie script confrontation, as contrived and meaningless as it’s not you, it’s me, or I’m sorry for your loss. Buck is his best friend, and also their fucking hearts beat in rhythm. He can do better.

“My leg hurts sometimes,” is what ends up coming out of his mouth when he gets back to the living room. Your ache is mine. A little poetic, but whatever. It gets the point across. Share it with me, please. We already do, so why are you hiding it?

Buck is sprawled on the floor next to the couch, Eddie isn’t sure why. He looks up at him silently for a few moments, and then rubs at his shoulder. Answer enough. Eddie barely has to look as he tosses him the gel, sure Buck will catch it as Eddie sits on the couch with a sigh. He watches Buck, still prone, hike up his pant leg and start massaging arnica into his calf muscles.

“Are you… doing okay?” It feels stupid to say.

Buck looks at him like it’s stupid to hear, too. His fingers drum a few times over one of the jagged lines still drawn up his shin. “‘M fine, Eds. Just a long day.”

Eddie purses his lips, shaking his head back and forth in a slow roll against the back of the couch. “You know that’s not what I meant.” His hand lifts up to catch the tossed arnica without thinking about it. He looks down at Buck, sprawled out, looking back up at him. “I want to… know that you’re okay. And, Buck, I’m here if you’re not.”

Buck sits up with a sigh that’s more petulant and annoyed than Eddie wishes it was. He rests his chin on his bent knee. “I know. But I’m- I’ll be fine. Stop worrying.”

Eddie snorts at that. “Oh, yeah, that’s something I’m great at.”

Buck’s smile grows so tenderly across his face. “I know.” He twitches his right pointer finger three times and Eddie’s moves involuntarily with he tug. “Come on,” he says, standing up with a groan. “Let’s make the pizza.”

They’d bought the ingredients together — sort of together, Buck on the phone at the grocery store and Eddie and Chris shouting requests down the line — earlier that week, and Chris will be home soon from a friend’s house and likely starving from the hard work of being a twelve year old all day long. He’s old enough that the novelty of making the pizza himself is less appealing than being able to immediately eat it, even if Buck had made sad faces as he’d relayed his instructions to make it in his absence. And this is all a distraction, Eddie knows it is, but Buck is smiling down at him and his finger goes tug, tug, tug, and he lets him get away with it.

[panlight]

would edward choose bella over renesmee if he had to choose? what would bella do?

Based on what every semi-decent parent I've ever talked to has said about their love for their children, no.

Based on the literal text of the books? Yeah, he'd pick Bella.

There's that whole bit at the end of Breaking Dawn, the. "Now you know. No one's ever loved anyone as much as I love you," and then Edward replies something along the lines, "I know of one exception," meaning yes Bella loves Edward more than anyone else has ever loved anyone . . . except Edward himself, who loves Bella even more.

Renesmee is not discussed. I guess you could argue they're only talking about romantic love, but they don't say that.

Likewise, Bella's determined to die in battle if Edward dies, and she's convinced he feels the same. Neither can go on without the other, neither is considering, 'like, hmm, maybe at least one of us should try and survive so we don't orphan our three-month-old daughter.'

So, as written, it seems like he would choose Bella. Prime example of why teenage Romeos and Juliets might not make the best parents.

As for what Bella would do . . . I don't know. She did risk her life to give birth to Renesmee. You could argue that is putting Renesmee ahead of Edward because if Bella dies there's no future with Edward. But Bella was pretty convinced that wasn't actually a problem, that they would just turn her into a vampire to save her, and she was so invested in THIS child specifically because it was EDWARD's CHILD, so I don't know how that affects the math.

Realistically, if something happened and Edward had to chose to save Bella or Renesmee and he picked Bella, that should cause a huge rift in their marriage. Bella's pretty self-sacrificing so SHE might choose Renesmee over herself; she's good at the big martyr gestures. But as written, Edward would just be this broken, desperate sad mess and murmur, "I don't know how we will live without her, but I KNOW I could never live without you. Please forgive me, Bella," and Bella would feel bad and comfort him and then Jacob would show up like, "nevermind, I saved Renesmee! She's fine!" and they'd all be like PHEW thank goodness we don't have to deal with the fallout of Edward's decision!

[jujumin-translates]

★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 20 - Trial & Error

Tsuzuru: Good morning.

Young Man: Good morning.

Tsuzuru: (I mean, this thing is aimed at younger scriptwriters, so I guess it makes sense that there’s a bunch of 20-somethings here.)

Tsuzuru: (Well, but none of them seem like they’re college students, so maybe I’m the youngest one here…)

Madoka: Ah--.

Tsuzuru: Huh!? You’re participating in this training camp too, Madoka?

Madoka: Kamikizaka-san introduced me to it. So you’re here too, Minagi-san.

Tsuzuru: It’s nice to see a familiar face. Glad to be working with you.

Madoka: Likewise.

???: Alright, let’s get things started.

???: Once again, I look forward to working with you all for the next two weeks starting today. Let’s start with self-introductions first.

Akazaki: I’ll get us started--I’m Akazaki, director and playwright. I also run a theater company called “Hako”.

Akazaki: I started doing this scriptwriting training camp ten years ago.

Akazaki: The core idea of this camp is that young scriptwriters can learn a lot by thinking about scripts from the point of view of a director.

Akazaki: This workshop is a place for young scriptwriters to interact with each other, so let’s all work together with a little friendly competition. I look forward to seeing your work.

Akazaki: Alright, your turn.

Tsuzuru: I’m Tsuzuru Minagi, actor and in-house scriptwriter at a theater company called MANKAI Company. I’m glad to be here!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Akazaki: To start, I want you to come up with sixty plot ideas with the theme of “theater”. Your time limit is one hour.

Tsuzuru: Si…!?

Madoka: Sixty…

Akazaki: Each of your ideas should be conveyed in 100 characters or less. Alright, your time starts now.

Tsuzuru: --Gh.

Tsuzuru: (We’re being thrown off the deep end right off the bat. So the theme is “theater” huh… And I need to turn that into an entire plot--.)

Tsuzuru: (Nope, no time to dwell on it. I’ve got an hour to come up with sixty of these, so I’ve gotta crank out a plot a minute… Everyone else has already gotten going on it, so I’ve just gotta give it my best shot.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Akazaki: Alright, time’s up. That should’ve been a good brain exercise.

Akazaki: Okay, now, take the plot ideas you just wrote out and swap them with someone.

Tsuzuru: (Swap them…?)

Akazaki: Everyone have someone else’s ideas? Then go ahead and pick three of the ideas you think would be interesting to see.

Tsuzuru: (Someone else’s…!? Wait, no way, does that mean I don’t get to pick what I’m going to write about…?)

Akazaki: Once you’ve picked them, return the paper to its original owner.

Akazaki: Once you have your paper back, pick one idea from those three. You then have one hour to put a full plot together.

Madoka: Um, here’s yours, Minagi-san.

Tsuzuru: Ah, right. You’re the one who picked for me? Thanks, Madoka.

Tsuzuru: (T-These are the three he picked!? I never would’ve chosen those myself. But, I guess they are pretty Madoka-like choices.)

Tsuzuru: (Whatever, I’ve got an hour to pull together a plot. I guess I’ll go with this one since it seems like the easiest one to flesh out…)

Tsuzuru: (God, who even comes up with an idea like this…? Well, me with a time limit, apparently…)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Akazaki: Hmm, I see…

Akazaki: I can tell that you were trying to keep things in your comfort zone and there are places where it’s obvious that you were running out of time.

Tsuzuru: Ah… right.

Akazaki: But it’s important to have your comfort zone, and I can tell you that it was kind of unlucky that you had to be dragged out of it for this.

Akazaki: I know it’s natural to want to use your usual style or follow your same techniques, but if you make an effort to throw in new things every once in a while, you can throw a few more tools in your toolbox for you to use later on.

Akazaki: Sometimes you need to be confronted with a more forceful approach like this, that way you can learn to take hits like this more easily.

Tsuzuru: Yeah, I know that already…

Tsuzuru: (It’s important to be able to stand my ground, but that doesn’t mean I can be defensive all the time…)

Akazaki: By the way, why did you decide to come to this training camp, MInagi-kun?

Akazaki: With an in-house position, you’ve got a stable place to write, so is there really a need for you to venture into the outside world?

Tsuzuru: I may have a stable place to write, but I’m always wondering how I can grow more. For my own sake, and for my troupe’s sake.

Akazaki: I see. Well, I think having that kind of greed is a good thing.

Akazaki: This training camp is a workout for your brain, like a real athletic event, so try not to burn yourself out.

Tsuzuru: Right, an athletic event… I was already kinda getting that feeling.

Akazaki: So, that said, why don’t you try and fix this thing starting from the beginning?

Tsuzuru: --U-Understood.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: Aghhh… I’m exhausted…

Tsuzuru: (My brain is fried… I never want to write a single hiragana, kanji, or any other character ever again…)

Madoka: Good work.

Tsuzuru: You still seem pretty lively, Madoka.

Madoka: Do I…? Maybe it’s because I’m used to writing a lot quickly.

Madoka: In the past, my father used to make me do a lot of sudden script revisions, so…

Tsuzuru: That must’ve sucked…

Tsuzuru: But I see… I don’t have a whole lot of experience with having to make revisions like that.

Madoka: I don’t know whether I can say it was a good experience or not, but… I feel like it gave me some more strength for things like this.

Tsuzuru: You sure are resilient…

Madoka: Some of the other participants seemed to be pretty used to writing a lot. It’s probably because a lot of them have experience writing for a lot of different things.

Tsuzuru: That’s true. They did give off the vibe of pros who write scripts for a living.

Tsuzuru: (I’m still just an inexperienced student. The only experience I’ve had writing outside of the company was with Otomiya-san…)

Tsuzuru: I’ll just take all of this as I sign that I still have room to grow.

Madoka: I still have a lot to learn to aim for the new Fleur Award, so… Let’s both do our best.

Tsuzuru: Yeah.

Tsuzuru: (Madoka’s also trying to grow as a scriptwriter for GOD-za. I need to get fired up like that again too.)

Madoka: Well then, good night. See you tomorrow.

Tsuzuru: G’night.

Tsuzuru: (The thing with the way I write scripts is that I just do the same thing I always have, but it’s still kinda refreshing to learn more about how other people write them.)

Tsuzuru: (I’ve really used up all my braincells, but it’s pretty interesting experiencing a new world like this.)

Tsuzuru: (Oh, right, I should check in on the group chat before I sleep…)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

tsuzuru has entered the chat.

Curry: thanks for the suit

TorORo: you hAveb tkaen your Firstn stepn into becominf a busineeSsman! (1)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: (I’ve got no clue what Citron-san is trying to say, but what else is new… And what kinda name is “TorORo”…)

Tsuzuru: (…I feel like I could write up some material for Citrun with that.)

Tsuzuru: (Can’t believe I felt like I couldn’t even write another character a moment ago. I’ll just jot down some quick notes before I sleep.)

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

• • •

T/N:

(1) Citron’s name in the chat is “都呂々” (Tororo) which is just the name of a town in Japan. I think what he was probably going for was to have his name as “トロロ” (Tororo, just in katakana) as like, a play on his name? Because like, シトロン (ShiTOROn) so it’s like taking the “トロ” (Toro) part of his name and turning it into “Tororo” as a nickname. I decided to translate it as “TorORo” because like, “都呂々” has the pronunciation he was probably going for, it’s just not quite the right way to write it, so I figured the best way to convey that was through weird capitalization as opposed to it being misspelled.

[itsuki-minamy]

"K – LETTER STORY"

SILVER: "ANSWER"

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Yatogami Kuro was sitting in front of the tea table, worried.

It all started with a postcard he received yesterday from his brother, Mishakuji Yukari.

On the back of the table, placed on a tea table, was a photograph of the brothers posing as if they were blending into a picturesque foreign landscape (Kuro only knew it was a European street corner), as if it were a painting, and above you can see the elegant strokes of the fountain pen added to it.

The content is simple, with a few lines of recent information and a postscript.

For those who have been keeping up to date, there are anecdotes about where he stayed, how his roommate has grown, and his interactions with the other person who appears from time to time. His short, witty one-liners always remind him of Mishakuji's versatility.

(This is good.)

What bothers Kuro is the P.S., just a word.

He said,

"Thanks for your answer."

"......"

The address of the place where he will be staying is also written on the front of the postcard. Regardless of the moral argument for hanging his head, that nerve is very fraternity-like. But anyway,

(Should I respond as requested?)

His head bowed at that difficult question.

The battle of the past had finally been resolved, and the dispute should have been resolved... Not all of his bad feelings have dissipated... but at least he is no longer the subject of blatant denial... but he can't even say that his relationship is good enough to casually exchange letters.

(However, it is rude to leave it unattended and something is wrong here...)

He suddenly realized this and instinctively hit his knee.

(Yes, from here too!)

Like his brother, he wrote about people close to him. That's perfect for a return sword that doesn't add unnecessary emotions. He's sure everyone will be intrigued, even his brother.

(Let us begin.)

He grabbed a notepad and pen from the desk next to him and started writing a draft.

[Adolf K. Weismann, also known as the ''Silver King'' Isana Yashiro, whom I once considered his master and who now stands by my side as a friend, earned a strange nickname like ''German-Sensei'' in honor of assuming his position as professor.]

(Mmm, that's strange.)

Just by writing the minimum of information, and even a few notes, he filled a space the size of a postcard.

(Well, Shiro is a special man... if that's the case.)

He carefully tore off one note and wrote on the second.

[Neko transferred to Ashinaka High School with his real name, Ameno Miyabi, and causes commotion around her regardless of whether she uses supernatural powers or not. To clean up after that, Shiro and I ran out...]

(Hmm, what do you mean?)

He filled out another page.

(I guess Neko often acts like a cat...)

In that case, he would like to broaden the scope a little more and write about Kukuri Yukizome... no, his brother doesn't know about her, nor about Toru Hieda... a person who was involved with the "Green King".

"No, why?!"

Unbeknownst to him, a cry of agony escaped him.

The advice came slightly from behind.

"I think it's best to let go of unnecessary pretensions and just write as you want."

"It's not an unnecessary pretense. It's the way you should behave..."

After answering normally, Kuro turned around.

Before he knew it, Shiro had returned home and was stacking the books he took out of his bag on his desk. Likewise, Neko, still in her human form, was curled up in bed and yawning.

Kuro avoids unnecessary interactions with these two people he knows well (although he thought that, if he didn't take off Neko's uniform quickly, it would take him longer to iron it).

"I found out why I was trying to talk back to my brother."

Shiro let out a sigh.

"Well, I've been thinking about that since you got the postcard yesterday. When I got home, I found you moaning in front of your notebook, so I can understand why you're worried about the wording."

"Umm, squishy, ​​squishy, ​​squishy, ​​all over again. Nyahahahaha."

Riding a horse, Neko lay down and adopted a series of poses that seemed to imitate another person.

Shiro hesitantly told his friend, who accepted his misfortune with a bitter face, an inference that could be another blow.

"I was also thinking about this all day... that person named Mishakuji Yukari."

"What?"

"Maybe he added that word to mock Kuro, in anticipation that you would worry like that?"

Kuro was about to say "Gah!" and he sat upright.

Intuitively, he was sure that Shiro was right.

That's what his brother might be able to do.

A few days later.

Kuro eventually recovered and, feeling depressed and confused, wrote only a poem of his own in response.

[There is no communication between us, but we have a supportive relationship.]

[gorbalsvampire]

is it bright where you are? (vtm city meta 2/?)

In Part 1, we talked about how to choose your city. In Part 2, we're going to start populating it with SPCs!

how many vampires?

If you've been around Vampire: the Masquerade for any significant length of time, you'll have heard the 1:100,000 ratio passed around.

Discard this. Ignore this. Screw this up, do a shit on it, nail it to a frisbee, and fling it over the rainbow. It's arbitrary, it's frequently contradicted, it persists in fandom largely because it's a hard number on which the brain battens and sticks, and it's got no relevance whatsoever to how many vampires YOUR city needs.

Likewise, anything from the sourcebooks that gives you any impression that you need seven Tremere before you can have a Regent, or a dozen Ventrue to fill out the bottom rung of the Board? Yeet that. Those aren't characters; they're filler. A needless strain on the night to night. They probably exist, shunted off into suburbia with cleaver families or otherwise keeping themselves to themselves, but please don't feel like you need to know their names or have statblocks for them. They do not matter. They are there for verisimilitude's sake; spackle for the brain wrinkles of tidy minds.

You'll have Player Characters. They'll need sires, and they may have a Mawla or an Adversary. In an ideal world that's where you should start: build around the things the players put on their sheets, i.e. the things they've signalled they want in the game.

We do not live in an ideal world. At the present moment in time, my brain has been sparked by an impromptu chat from one of my D&D group who's been watching LA/NY By Night and getting back into Vampire. This particular group are now considering a pivot when we're done with our current D&D adventure, and I am reconsidering the handful of ideas I had for a Manchester based story some years ago. We have a sense of what clans are cool: we're probably looking at Toreador, Tzimisce and Lasombra (which is weird) and probably Anarchs because I know what these gremlins are like, and I want to lean into Ventrue and the Anarch pillar clans (Brujah, Gangrel, Ministry) because we're gonna have to fill out the conventional sect members.

The truth is, you've probably got an idea or two about your city already. That's why, a lot of the time, I actually start with the domains.

domains and you

Most cities kind of divide themselves into domains naturally. If you know the city, you can do what I'm doing right now and go "hmm, Oxford Road would make a good seat for a Ventrue Prince with this feeding limitation and that power base... Deansgate feels more anarchy, more Brujah... if we're going to put Toreador anyway, put them in Salford, maybe a Toreador/Gangrel axis, that could be fun... Elysium in the Northern Quarter, there's places there that would be perfect... and obviously the more north you go the more Anarch things get as the money runs out..."

If you don't, here's a trick you can do. Point your web browser to snazzymaps.com. Select your preference of style (I like to use Dark and Red as filters, for obvious reasons, and "dango red" is my current favourite). Drag the view to your real-world city of choice and zoom out until you have the names of good-sized, famous districts visible. If you want a busier and more complicated city, zoom in a bit and get the smaller ones. You'll need an account to save, but nothing stops you taking screenshots...

Here are a couple of maps of Manchester: the wide zoom that includes some of the outer city, but not the real satellite towns like Sale or Altrincham, and the close in on the inner city which is where most of the action will probably be happening. I would of course crop these to hide the various UI greebles if I was using them in any sort of player facing resource, but that comes later.

That gives you your domains, which you can start populating with any SPCs you already have burning a hole in your brain. You can set markers at this stage, if you know where you want to put things, or you can do so in the later Relationship Mapping stage, or you can not bother and use a damn notebook (which, again, since I know Manchester fairly well - I lived there for two years and married a local - is probably how I'd go about things).

The old-school variation on this is acquiring an Eyewitness travel guide (the fat ones with the white covers) and using the chapters from that as domains. I like using Eyewitness because they're pretty exhaustive in terms of landmarks - gives you plenty of things you can navigate by and slip into descriptions, although it does give your game a slightly sightseer vibe.

For historical games, I like to dig up a historical map! There's not always one from exactly the right decade, but usually some from close enough that you can pinpoint landmarks around which a domain might centre and still achieve the right period vibe.

Anyway. However you've reached this point, this is where you start doing the Research, rounding out your initial enthusiasm for PCs and SPCs with historical conteeext! Vampire works really well as historical fiction in my experience - reality is deeper and gnarlier than anything you could make up and, quite often, you'll come across people and events and places that make you think "oh, this could be vampires."

I usually spend a couple of weeks on this. Just chipping away on different deep dives, different conflicts - politics, sport, universities, anything that exposes deep long term fault lines in the city's integrity, because that's where the monsters live and where their influence is felt. Once my head is creaking and my notes arranged along conflict lines... the Process can really begin.