#i am queue-vothe

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

people who say Kote wouldn’t understand internet lingo are fools and liars. Bast wouldn’t understand internet lingo, the shit head is a jock. he has absolute jock energies and would not spend time on the internet + would use lingo so wrong. Bast won’t even read a damn book yall come on. the extent of Bast’s meme knowledge is Yeet and Thicc. everything else is used wrong and it murders Kote inside cause he refuses to explain obscure and niche humor to him anymore after the ancient ‘he no like the ba-na-naaaa’ conversation

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

Elodin: What do you have?

Kvothe: A KNIFE!!!

Elodin: That's fine.

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

aventisz replied to your post “//Oh, just in general: if I leave comments in the tags of your...”

I noticed an I greatly appreciate it! :D

//*LOUD INTERNAL SCREAMING AND VIBRATES*//

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

Bast: Hey, so, Reshi?

Kote: Hm?

Bast: I thought it’d be maybe kinda cool if you actually taught me??? things??? for once??? Instead of sending me off to go read alone.

Kote: 

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

Hi, my name is Kvothe and this is jackass *proceeds to kick a giant wheel onto a high as fuck giant dragon lizard* 

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

What people think a modern!Bast would dress like: Designer clothes, suits and ties, only the finest of materials and never dirty

What modern!Bast really would be wearing: the same pair of pants from last week that hasn’t been washed, no socks and sneakers, a tank-top no matter the weather, “hey it doesn’t smell, so it’s clean” outfits

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

Personal rant, but, I really want more writers to be less ~elusive~ and like vague as shit when it comes to how they go about seeing other people interact with their characters. Not like “this character is my fav and fuck all you readers if you don’t like them”, but the “Haha, hey, that’s fucking disgusting that you’d do that / ship that / etc with my characters when they are clearly not built that way so stop it” kind of way. 

Like, it’s pretty common to see writers either just quietly ignore in*est or und*eage ships or ab*sive ships along with blatant fuckin racism and racist stereotypes that masses of fans dive head first into for??? some ungodly heathenish reason??? Like, yes, the writer is one person. Yes they have their own lives. Yes they work and are busy and blah blah like normal people. But, I know they see it to a degree in some cases. They interact with fans and hear stories or get sent things by friends. Writers have and do interact with fanart (though I guess legally cannot read fanfics until their series of books is over due to possible infringements? Something i read a while ago, idk how true it is). They see this stuff, and like just??? let it go by????

I mean, sure, you could argue the whole “It’d lower sales” or “make people stop reading”. But, oooooookay? And? You’re selling to the world and word of mouth as is, there are a billion other people who will read and consume or hear of your writing. Why is telling off harmful people and possibly driving them away from consuming your work such a bad thing? Why would you want those kinds of people touching or tainting your work anyway?? Oh noooo, people who perpetuate harmful and terrible things won’t touch your work -- oh wait, that’s a good thing. 

When the writer writes family bonds, or bad characters, or a plethora of other shit, I just feel like they shouldn’t have to be ~covert~ and ~polite to everyone~ about not agreeing or blatantly calling out shitty people on how they portray their characters. Readers should be allowed room to have headcanons and imagination and fill in the blanks, I’m not saying they shouldn’t be allowed too (esp if the writer is kinda white-centric or missing representation in other areas overall). I’m saying when it comes to things like the shit above, a writer should be able too, and should, speak out on it and tell their audience to knock to the hell off. Just tell readers like “omfg what is wrong with you??? why would you ship family??? together??? why would you push an ab*sive relationship like that when I’ve very clearly written the one character to be a victim what the fuck??? Why can’t ya’ll just be normal ass people holy shit”. 

Idk that’s just me and I really do hope there are writers out there who do this. Maybe I don’t know them, but it’d be refreshing to see more of it.

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

Not to be extra but I would die (tm) for Kote

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

// Someone eventually: Wow Sam, you pick on Bast a lot. Why?

Me: He deserves it. //

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

KKC but every time Kote mentions the Chandrian, Chronicler screams louder.

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

Me: Hm... I wonder *goes onto akinator*

Akinator: Do they have red hair? Do they work at an inn?

Me: Yes omg do they really have Ko--

Akinator: Kvothe :)

Me: *SLAMS EXIT TAB* NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

Lute Playing -- Re-Write

The day had been long and, as always, quiet. No one had the need to come in and out, no one needed drinks or a meal, and no one needed a break from the nice weather outside. While it was nice to not be flooded with work, it all left the innkeeper with itching fingers to keep busy. His hands rubbed together out of boredom over and over again, picking things up, putting them back down, pushing in and pulling out chairs; yet nothing helped. The man had already chopped and diced up vegetables and fruit earlier in the morning, swept, changed bed sheets and polished bottles. Normally, that would have all put him at ease, but the day was… strange. Nothing he did eased the itching feeling his his fingers, crawling to his palms and forcing him to tap his fingers.

Having been sitting for the last hour, trying to occupy his mind to ignore his hands, the innkeeper gave up on such activity and pushed himself from the chair. There had to be something he was forgetting to do or somewhere he was forgetting to be. Once to his feet, he heard something something thick and full hit the floor with a mellow thud against the hardwood flooring. That wasn’t the sound of a chair or table, too light and not far enough clattering. Which had surprised him, giving him a half second thought that someone else besides himself and Bast were indoors.

“What in Tehlu’s name…?” He muttered, stepping over the chair easily to the other side to find the source. At his feet laid a case, long and smooth; with a neck and a round bowl at the end. Staring at the case, Kote slowly drew his eyes away to see if there was anyone else he possibly forgot about hanging around he inn. Not catching sight of anyone, he sighed heavily and picked it up, running a hand over the thick case to make sure he hadn’t accidentally damaged it.

Smooth and cool, he set it on the table with a bit or relief. Well, it wasn’t broken, but now he had another issue to figure out -- who owned the instrument and how had it gotten into the inn without him noticing? Surely he would have noticed something like an instrument enter, be played, or some poor musician forgetting it and panicking. Yet, none of that had happened, leaving the red head more perplexed than before. Rubbing his chin as he thought, Kote tried to also recall if anyone in town played anything with such an odd shape. He was sure he had heard a few people who played smaller instruments, but nothing like the one in front of him. So how had it ended up in his inn? Who in Tehlu’s name put it there and just… left it?

With a small pause, Kote opened the case to check what was inside, not wishing for it to be money or something that would bring guard into the inn and cause more trouble than the had in the past. That was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

A lute? No one he knew o played lute in the town, nor anyone who rarely traveled through did either. Brows furrowing in confusion, Kote started to pull his hand away from the instrument, but paused, and placed his hand on the strings instead. Familiar feelings moved up his arm and into his mind; both good and some more depressing of sorts. But of all he were to notice first, was that the itching, uneasy feeling his his hands had started to fade as soon as he touched he case. Now it was nearly gone with touching the exposed lute and remembering how much he loved playing when he was younger.

A tender smile passed his face, before he abruptly pushed it away, drawing his hand sharply as though he stuck his hand into flame. “No, no, no. No.” He muttered at himself, taking a step back and closing the case sharply. “No, I won’t… I can’t. I told myself I wouldn’t. It’s been too long anyway. Not mine, can’t play. Easy musician rules.” he hissed, shaking his head once more.

But it called to him… Oh, how it did. The lute nearly sang to him in its own hushed, gentle way; wanting to be turned and allowed to speak through its strings and resounds. The lute called to him to open up once more, allow for him to share his feelings in a way he knew best -- the best way anyone could ever express emotions in more depth than words ever could. It wanted to breath once more, as though not being played was holding in a breath longer than comfortable. Tempting and needing, it slowly drew Kote’s attention back to it, forcing him to open the case and at least look at the lute once more.

“Maybe…” He whispered, fingers gently curling around the lute’s neck and pulling it from its velvet casing. It was a little heavier than he remembered a lute ever being, but he easily sat and positioned himself with it; plucking a string, adjusting a peg, plucking again. Even though it had been years, it was as though all the information flooded back to his hands, doing their own thing and knowing how to treat the lute before he could even have a full thought. As has hands worked, his mind rolled back to find a song that he could play without ruining it too terribly.

There was a small silence and the innkeeper paused, debating if his idea was the best one to carry out or not. The inn was silent, he was silent, and the lute was silent. Then, music broke the air. Fingered pressed to the neck and other hand gently plucking the thin metal strings, music softly and gently filled the inn with a new sound it had never heard before. As new and soft as a first kiss; delicate and growing as a flower. His hands were nervous, his heart beat a little faster, but he played. Kote played for the inn, letting his heart fall to the strings and control his hands. Whether or not he sounded good and was doing well, he didn’t know. All that seemed to matter in that moment was that he was occupied and his heart was feeling lighter.

Little did he know that Bast was standing at the top of the stairs, waiting. Listening. Bast smiled happily and tried to keep his excitement contained, sneaking don a few more steps to hear the music a bit more clearly. Little did Kote know, Bast had set it all up on his own. The lute, the time, the position, everything. It had taken weeks to prep and get just right so Kote would play again. He was seeing Kvothe sitting there, not Kote the innkeeper. He was seeing who he deemed the true person he knew, playing lute and being himself. The smile grew on his face more, sitting on the steps of the stairs and listening to the human play while he could.

And just for a little while, everything was good. Everything was okay again.

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

Underrated KKC character of the day: Penthe 

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

Underrated KKC character of the day: Carceret

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

Underrated KKC character of the day: Abenthy 

[kote-the-inn-keeper]

Underrated KKC Character of he day: Mola