#its about knowing so many realities that your own starts to feel strange

[snow-lavender]

woman who goes feral for any kind of fourth wall break or meta-narrative: hey guys i think c!rina might be my favourite sherb

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Overwhelmed

elijah mikaelson x reader | requested

summary: you were warned that the transition would be hard, but words can only prepare you so much. experiencing it for yourself is way different, and harder than you could’ve ever imagined. you’re just glad your boyfriend’s got your back through it all, otherwise things would be going even worse than they already are.

tags: neurodiverse reader / sensory processing disorder, overstimulation, mild panic attack, comfort, some fluff

word count: 2.2k

a/n: requested to be like my other work, One of These Days, but just for Elijah! I tried making this one just a little different from the other, just for some variation, so I hope it's okay! <3

Every emotion you’ve ever felt is ten times stronger. Every bit of anger, sadness, joy, or pleasure. Your body seems to burn with discomfort, or melt with adoration, as your heightened senses take on a personality of their own. Your mind races. Your thinking is quicker, your reflexes are faster, and your feet can move you across a room almost at the speed of sound. It’s strange. Anxiety bubbles in your chest as you try to adapt to each new scenario. Every room in the mansion feels like a new challenge. The bright lights seem to burn into your retinas. Their faint buzzing is like a gunshot close to your ear. 

As a human, your senses were already sharp. You could hear someone’s footsteps from the third floor from your top floor room, and you could smell even the faintest scent of chocolate, or coffee, and you could notice the tiny details about someone’s speech, or pick out a lie from a monologue of rambling. Now, you can do all those things still, but they seem to yell at you. The whole world is yelling and you can’t avoid it. Everything is begging for attention - to be seen, to be heard, to be smelled - and there’s no shutting it off. You’re trapped inside your own body, your own mind, and there’s no escape. The yelling of the voices, the buzzing of the lights, the smell of the cologne that lingers in the air, and the feel of the denim clinging to your hips. Everything’s so strong now. Everything’s so-

“Y/N!” A sharp summon yanks you back to reality. A gentle hand rests on your shoulder, squeezing slightly. “Take a deep breath.”

Your dissociated eyes focus on the man in front of you. It takes you a second to recognize him, but his presence soon makes you calm. You look at him, then breathe, before giving a slight nod. He takes his hand off your shoulder. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

You blink a couple times, taking in your surroundings. You’re in the mansion, in Mystic Falls, in the middle of the day. The sun peeks through the windows, but your ring keeps you safe from the rays. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Are you sure? You looked startled.”

“Startled?”

“Panicked. Zoned out, even.”

“I’m okay, ‘Lijah. Just a little… yeah, zoned out.”

“If you want me to find you some herbs to settle your nerves, the Bennett witch might still feel bad about getting you turned,” he starts.

You shrug your shoulders. “No, I think I’m okay. I don’t really want to talk to her right now. Have you gotten any news about your brother?”

Elijah sighs. “Nothing of any use. But don’t you worry about that, okay? I have many contacts who I’ve promised protection as long as they tell me everything they find about him. He won’t be able to sneak up on us, nor will I let him hurt you. Rest your little head.” He kisses your forehead sweetly, cupping your chin. Elijah strides towards the kitchen and fills a cup of water. “Is there anything else I can get you? Something to eat, perhaps?”

The thought of blood kicks up your senses again. The buzzing light occupies its usual space in your mind. 

“Um…”

“Y/N?”

“Can you turn off that light?”

Without question, Elijah flicks it off. He smiles softly before handing you the water. “Hungry at all?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Positive? I don’t want you passing out on me from hunger again, love. I know it’s odd, at first, but you’ll get used to it.”

You hesitate. You don’t want to admit that it was overstimulation, not hunger, that caused your first episode. Yes, drinking human blood is something you’ll have to adapt to, but the real struggle is the sensory overload brought on by your transition. It’s worse than you ever thought it would be. And while Elijah warned you, it seems your previous human sensitivities have only multiplied. 

“I’m not really hungry. I think I might be tired, actually.”

The man looks at you as if willing the truth out of your sealed lips. He wants to prod, you can tell by the way he purses his lips, but he respects your response. If you don’t want to share, that’s okay. 

“Will you be here? Or do you have something to do in town?” You ask, partly changing the subject. 

He glances towards the window, but then back at you. “I have one thing for which I have to go into town, but I will be back shortly. Nothing dangerous. Rest easy.”

“You don’t mind if I take a nap?”

“Not at all. All I ask is that you stay here, stay safe, just while I’m gone.”

You nod, before carrying your tired legs up to your room. There, you finally strip yourself of your jeans and t-shirt, then turn off the lights and curl under a mount of comfortable blankets. Your noise canceling headphones block out what the four walls don’t, and sleep comes easy once you shut off the world. 

You sleep half the day away and wake up foggy-eyed around eight. Only a bit of sunlight still peeks through your curtains; much of the townspeople should have retired to their homes by now. Slowly, you rise from your bed for a more comfortable set of clothes. Your original plans to go out for one of your first days as a newly transitioned vampire were ruined by your overstimulation and rather long nap, but that’s okay. It’s not something you were looking forward to doing, if you’re being honest. 

When you make your way downstairs, Elijah’s in the kitchen. He’s busy with a task, but looks up to acknowledge your presence. A glass of blood rests beside him, but you’re not craving it right now. Instead, a peculiar smell catches in your nose, upsetting your stomach. You cough and try to ignore it.

“Did you get done what you needed to do?”

“I did, mostly, until the students and townspeople decided to gather in the square and distract me from my errand. I’ll just have to finish it tomorrow,” he says with a slight roll of his eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, actually. But do you know what that putrid smell is? Nothing like waking up to that. It feels like it’s burning a hole in my head.”

“That, my dear, is the bonfire that interrupted my conversation. I tell you, I have never seen a town with more social events than this one. It’s a wonder those alone haven’t attracted my brother here.”

“Ugh! And I used to have to go to all those before my friends all turned on me,” you muse. Ever since falling for the original and helping him in his quest to locate Klaus, they haven’t talked to you much. Their disapproval of your relationship is half the reason you were turned in the first place. “I didn’t enjoy them then, up close, and I still don’t like them now.”

“I can imagine it is quite the headache. The smell alone, coupled with the noise.” He pauses. “I sealed the windows to try and block some of it out, but it seems to have managed its way in anyway.”

“So it has,” you reply bitterly. “God, I was finally feeling better, but the minute I came out of my room, it all comes back.”

Just before Elijah can answer, an overexcited “woohoo!” from a local student carries from somewhere outside. You slump your head to the counter with an utterance of disgust. The simple shout is like a dagger between the eyes. 

“Y/N…” Elijah begins, hesitantly, “it’s important to feed when you’re this early in your transition. It’ll help with the senses.”

“Are you suggesting I go eat him?”

The man smiles. “No, but I have bags in the fridge. I can pour you a glass.”

Drinking from the rowdy man outside seems much more appetizing than getting a meal from a cold, three day old bag. Your stomach curtles at the thought. “No, I’m fine.”

“Love, your cravings are half of the problem. You can curb your senses when you feed properly. It does you no good to go hungry. What do they call it in this day and age?” He snaps his fingers. “Hangry.”

You glare up at him for a moment, then drop your gaze. “I’m not hangry, ‘Lijah, I just don’t feel like eating.” His pushiness is now adding to your uncomfortable state. You know he does it out of love, but right now, his love is rather suffocating. 

“Y/N… I really would feel better if you ate something. It’s been nearly ten hours since your last meal, and-”

“I’m not hungry!” You snap. “I told you already! I ate this morning, and I don’t want anything more. I just want everything to stop! I want the sounds to stop, the feelings - I feel everything, inside and out. I want the stupid smell of the wafting bonfire to get out of my nose. And I want this off me, because it’s touching me, and I don’t want it!” In a rage, you rip off your daylight ring and send it flying across the room. 

Elijah startles, fear shooting through him, but then he remembers it’s nighttime. He settles his anxious bones through a few deep breaths and waits for you to calm. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says softly, “I hope you accept my apology.”

The dam breaks at that and tears flood your eyes. You cover your face with your hands and try to fight them off. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just… stressed. There’s so much going on and so little I feel I can do about it. Everything is different, and loud, and overwhelming, and I’m taking it out on you.”

“None of that is your fault. You didn’t ask to be turned.”

“No, but I could be handling it better.”

“Y/N… you struggled with such things when you were human. How could you be expected to adapt quickly as a vampire? Your senses are heightened regardless of what you faced as a mortal; yours are even more sensitive than most. That makes you stronger than you even believe yourself to be. You should give yourself more credit.”

“I don’t feel stronger. I feel like an already weak person dumbed down.”

“Well I see the exact opposite. Your transition isn’t easy, but it’ll make you better in the long run. You’ll learn how to master your strengths and adapt to your weaknesses. You’ll make weapons out of them, and they’ll save your life. And, probably at times, mine, too. It’s a rare thing that you have, but you can make a disability into an advantage.”

“Maybe. If I ever manage to cope with it.”

“You will. I know you will. And I will be here to help you through it.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He smiles. “So, if you’re up for it, put the ring back on? Give this thing another chance?”

You sigh. “Tomorrow? When the sun comes out? I can’t wear rings for too long at a time; I don’t like the feeling, it’s like it suffocates my skin.”

“Let’s make a deal. You can take it off when the sun goes down, but at night, you have to wear it or keep your blinds tightly shut. And don’t misplace or lose it, because witches can be hard to find.”

Smiling, you agree. “Okay. I’ll keep it close.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, too.”

“Now… when you say that the ring is suffocating your skin, is that just the ring, or everything?”

The question goes a bit over your head at first. You miss the way he’s looking at you and focus on answering honestly. “Sometimes, it’s everything, but other times, I can tolerate certain things. Right now, everything is overwhelming. Even my hair touching my head right now is stressful.”

“Okay.” 

“Wait… were you asking something else?”

He shakes his head. “I was just wondering if you’d like to sit with me, but I understand if you need some space.”

You think about it, wanting desperately to have some time with him, and willing away your discomfort. “What if we… what if we sit, and in a little bit, I might feel better?”

“As long as you’re up for it.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

For about twenty minutes, you sit in your respective chairs and laugh along to a sitcom that’s airing reruns on the tv. Elijah turned off all the lights and shut the curtains beforehand, creating a soft atmosphere in which you could relax. Your ring sits on the table in between you both, but the pressure to wear it is absent. You’ll put it on when it’s necessary. 

At the next commercial break, you silently slide out of your own chair and catch his attention. He gives you a quizzical look, about to ask where you’re going, but then you crawl into his lap in three quick movements, and his hands automatically reach out to support you. Your feet hang over the armchair, but your head is against his chest. Wanting to feel a bit more cozy, you grab a nearby blanket and drape it over the both of you. Elijah kisses your hair, then rests his lips on the side of your head. His contented breathing slows your own. 

“Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Thank you. I love you.”

He kisses you again, a response of his own, and smiles. “I love you, too.”

[lovelythief]

𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍' 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒

𝚕𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚢 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟷𝟶𝟷𝟸 𝚌𝚠; 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔, 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜.

Forcing yourself to do chores after surviving another apocalypse is a weird fucking experience.

Leon Kennedy would be the first person to tell you how important it is to reestablish a routine after a tragedy, but knowing how important it is doesn’t make the reality of it any less jarring. How could anyone reasonably expect him to go from a short-term, high-stakes mission—where every decision was the difference between life and death—back into the mundanity of a 9-to-5 in a matter of days?

No rest for the wicked, he’d say. Gotta keep moving forward.

To him, the strangest part about all of it is actually coming home. No matter how many times Leon is welcomed back as a “hero” and praised for his good work, all pretenses are gone as soon as he walks into that swanky apartment he pays too much rent for each month. There’s still dishes to be washed. Trash to be taken out. Laundry to be folded. When he lived alone, he could easily ignore petty chores for as long as possible—surviving off take-out on paper plates, wearing the same jeans three times a week—but he won’t treat his roommate like a maid.

Sitting on the couch, he smiles as he watches you scurry around in the kitchen, eagerly cooking your first lunch together in maybe three weeks; his first hot meal in what feels like forever. It's not all bad, he thinks, not when you’re around. He doesn’t get much time to enjoy the view of your ass while you stretch over the counter to reach the flour in the cabinet before the buzzing of the dryer calls him back to work.

Leon trudges back into the laundry room alone, but he’s accompanied by a humming cover of your favorite band that carries throughout the house. He leaves the door open so he can hear you while he folds clothes, but the sizzling of pan-fried food drowns out your voice. Smells delicious, at least.

Leon grabs a warm pair of jeans first and mindlessly shoves his arm in the inverted leg to flip it, and immediately realizes how unusual the fabric feels against his forearm. He pulls the pant leg through and flaps it once, twice, in the air before stretching it out by the waistband and scrutinizing it, wondering if his jeans got fucked up somehow.

It takes him a moment to realize he doesn’t own this pair. It’s your laundry.

“Hey, babe?” Leon steps out of the room and raises his voice enough for you to hear, “Want me to fold your clothes?” It takes a moment for Leon to get a quiet “yes, please!” over the noise from the kitchen, but it’s enough.

He chuckles to himself and stands over the dryer, bringing both legs of your jeans together, tucking the middle, smoothing it out over his chest, and folding it into thirds. Simple. Brainless. It’s strange. Leon starts sorting your folded clothes into piles as he grabs and folds one of your work shirts. His folding isn’t perfect by any means, but it’s neat enough to get the job done.

It almost feels like a luxury Leon shouldn’t be able to afford; being able to relax in safety, comfort, and warmth while doing something so mundane like folding clothes when just last week he was experiencing hell.

But Leon forces himself not to dwell on it for long, as he distracts himself with a cat-themed sock from the pile that he’s only seen you wear in passing, turning it over in his hand to catch all of the details on it. He never noticed the fake toe-beans on the bottom of the socks before, and he can’t stop the grin that pulls at his cheeks. Damn, that’s cute. He runs his hand through your clothes in search of its pair, refusing to let it be lonely for long.

He folds everything from raincoats to bath towels; the piles he’s made already reaching his mid-chest in height. How much laundry did you do? It has to be at least several weeks’ worth. Leon thinks of all the late hours he knows you spend working and huffs. There’s some comfort in knowing you’re just as bad as he is with chores.

A soft shirt brushes his hand when he leans into the machine to start grabbing the bottom of the pile. He stretches it and turns it around to face him. It’s an oversized band tee-shirt with a long-faded print. It looks well-worn. Loved. He holds it for a moment longer before he folds it slowly, with more care than he offered to some of your other shirts, making sure to leave the logo visible on top.

There’s not much left in the dryer by the time Leon grabs some of your underwear. Most of them are plain, standard. Some of them are cute, with simple patterns or a lace trim, and he doesn’t think twice about them as he folds them. But his fingers fumble as he reaches in without looking, and catch against a small, thin piece of fabric.

Deep blue, lacy, and risqué. Leon’s breath chokes in his throat as he stares at the thong in his hand for way too long. Thoughts better kept to himself rush into his mind; of watching you saunter while wearing nothing but this to tease him, of snapping the waistband against your skin to hear you gasp, of pulling it down with his teeth to reveal—

—“Leon! Food’s ready!” your voice shocks Leon out of his haze.

He squares his jaw and quickly—sloppily—folds the thong and shoves it between some clothes before he’s tempted to tuck it in one of his pockets. The damn thing’s definitely going to haunt him when he has a moment to himself.

You call for him again, “Leon?”

“Comin’!” He clears his throat and slams the dryer door closed, grabbing the full laundry basket, unsure of how he’s going to look at you after that. And for a while, he forgets about everything else.

[nyx-is-missing]

SUNSET PART 2

Or a pretty bad doctor

Clarisse La Rue x Cassandra De Young (oc! Apollo's kid)

Summary: Clarisse is going to colect her dept, by treating her wounds with a very bad doctor. Or the one when Clarisse likes to taunt people.

Warnings: that time when you actually stop to think about your own life, mentions (one) of blood, confident Clarisse (she likes to taunt pretty girls, even when they are bad doctors)

(We actually get a clarisse pov today!)

Part 1 is here!

There were exactly seven demigods in the Apollo's cabin this afternoon.

An absurdly low number for a summer everyday, but considering im early, this must be common.

I've never seen camp so empty, its feels like another reality if im being honest, nobody saw when me and Clarisse walked in togheter, nor when she walked with me to the front of my cabin, and dropped the suitcases on the grass and started to walk towards her own cabin.

"Hey Clarisse! ....thank you! I wouldnt have made it withou-" she turned her head to me

"You owe me, dont forget that."

Like she would allow me to, why children of Ares got no patience? Or like, actually willingness to be sociable? They cant act like that with everybody, can they?

This was the first time i actually got space in this cabin, as well as the first time i could pick my own bed and place all my things calmly, is this how castor and pollux live everyday? Lucky them.

I mean, i love my siblings, but we are too many to such limited space.

And as much as that does leads us to somewhat funny situations, we are still too many, with too few bathrooms and mirrors.

Being like this allowed us to breathe, and think slowly, as if a person who lived his whole life in the busy city moved to a town who was mostly farm.

And that was when i started to miss the mess my siblings made when we were all togheter, when i actually had time to stop and think.

I cant even imagine the things my grandpa is saying about me, how he must be trying to poison the family against ourselves, he does that even when the smallest things dont go his way, and right now, the whole family must think of me as if i am Queen Mary I, and they are the protestants im trying to burn alive.

I didnt go to dinner that night, nor to the campfire, i wouldnt manage to eat without feeling dizzy after, and i was sure i was not in the mood for singing that night.

I just showered, put my pajamas on, grabbed a book, layed on my bed and hoped that time ran faster.

Coming to camp earlier had its benefits, at least to me, pick the bed, be aware of any new faces earlier, train more (with people who could actually be named opponents, wich just meant they had better sense of combat than a inflatable doll from a gas station) and of course, run away from insufferable family members who i had to face for nine months, to see more insfferable family members who i'll still have to face for three months.

Funny.

I just wouldnt expect to see her there too.

She always likes to spend some days of her rich girl summer life in her family's yatch, or shopping..not that i keep track of her life, i know very little, but i do know that she likes to get to camp when its already messy, people all around, shooting arrows, swimming, painting, fighting, singing and all, but this year she was here early and with a strange look on her face.

It was just..weird.

I didnt felt right.

But what surprised me the most was she asking for my help, and being in dept with me.

She didnt even looked at me in a normal day.

I think there is something to do with her family, they look at me, almost always with a ugly face, and then they keep her away from me.

So, she speaking to me was a surprise.

But to be honest, if i hadnt saw her earlier, i wouldnt even know she was here, i mean, she didnt left her cabin all...not that i kept track of that, but still, unsual, especially for a Apollo kid, they always love to be out and about under the sun.

But then, the whole afternoon? Nothing

Dinner? Nothing

Campfire? Nothing

At night when i went to practice a bit more with my sword? Nothing

She better not have run away, because she is still in dept with me, and im going to collect it right now.

It was late, but the cabin still had a small light coming from inside.

Strange, all of the cabins had their lights out, they were sleeping.

I knocked on the door, waited and knocked again, after a few seconds a sleepy Cassandra oppened the door, rubbing her eyes and taking a few seconds to realize what was happening.

Then she looked down, and saw me holding my own arm to stop the blood.

"Already?" She looked at me again, and started to tie her hair up, it always amazed me how in every situation she was her.

If people didnt knew she was a demigodess, they would probably think she never even stepped in earth ground, that she never had to share, or suffered any problems at all, her family raised her to be little miss perfect, and little miss perfect she was, even when what she was wearing looked like it came straight out of a beach party, she made it look like designer clothes, she looked expensive, always.

"You said whenever, today is whenever too" i said, walking in when she stepped aside to give me space to enter. "Wait, where are your siblings?"

"We were only in seven today, and since the camp is empty, they are probably sleeping with their friends, or boyfriend and girlfriends." She looked around, probably for a first aid kid.

"What about you? Nobody invited little miss magazine cover for a sleepover?" She grabs a kit and sits at one bed, starring at me...oh right, i sit down by her side.

"Im not in the mood for that tonight, Clarisse"

"Based of the fact you are still fully d-"

She stomped her feet on the ground

"Do you always have to be like this? Thats why my family wont let me talk to you! Im not in the mood for jokes, for sleepovers and specially for us to keep stinging each other" she oppened a little alcohol bottle, to clean the wounds i think.

"Oh they wont let you? so you wanted to? That-AH WHY?" I screamed when she just poured the alcohol straight into the cut

"Okay that didnt hurt....a lot, youre being dramatic, also, enough of that talk" she said while cleaning my cuts with a piece of cotton. "Now, we dont have nectar or ambrosia in here, and going to the infirmary is to risky..but you have small cuts, i think this will do....dontfinditweird... please"

"Why would i find it weir-" i was cut mid sentence by her giving a small kiss in my arm, and starting to bandage me right away, though i did saw some of my cuts getting better. "Im sorry, you do that since when?"

"Its..been a time, i just never used it because, you know, going around kissing random demigod's wounds would be, weird and unhygienic" she holded a finger up, and then a second, as if counting the reasons. "But hey, you are all set, and you should go, before anyone notices the lights on"

"Hey they were on before i even came in" i got up, and so did she, gathering all the used stuff and throwing them in the bin by the side of the bed.

"True, i was reading before, and fell asleep...i guess thank you... in a certain way, if you hadnt came here they would stay on the whole night and the chance of my siblings getting caught being out of the cabin was huge.." i looked around, "The song of Achilles" was it was half open on one of the beds.

"Greek myth retelling?" I ask walking towards the door, she just hums in agreement.

"A pretty good book, you should try to read it...i dont know if you like books very much but.. yeah"

"Maybe, tell me when you finish it, ill see if im in the mood for it" i open the door and put a step outside, but before i trully left i said "You are a pretty bad doctor, you know? Not even treating all the wounds, my lips are also cut" i watched her face go from confusion to realization in a second

"Clarisse! you-"

I slammed the door.

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 23: The Holidays

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

Three months had swiftly passed since Jake's departure, and now Thanksgiving was upon you. You managed to hire an assistant for the winter months, a move that significantly alleviated the burden of your grant work. Additionally, your employer brought on a paid intern to work alongside you. After revealing your pregnancy to them, your boss showed incredible understanding and support, making your professional life much more manageable during this pivotal time.

On Tuesday, you had plans to fly out to Jake's parents' house, a trip that also included a meeting with Dr. Colson at the school to discuss the grant. At this point in your pregnancy, you hadn't started showing visibly, and you hadn't shared the news with Jake or his parents yet. However, you noticed your clothes beginning to fit more snugly around you. Jake knew about your trip to his parents for Thanksgiving and was also aware that his parents would be flying up to spend Christmas with you. This series of visits was imbued with anticipation, not just for the festive gatherings but also for the moment you would eventually decide to share your pregnancy news, adding another layer of significance to these family reunions.

As you drove to the doctor's office for your monthly baby check-up, these thoughts swirled in your mind, intertwining with the everyday realities of pregnancy. You had entered your 14th week, and thankfully, the morning sickness wasn't too severe, though it had a knack for surprising you at the most inconvenient moments. This period marked the beginning of your second trimester, a time when many expectant mothers start to feel better, but you remained vigilant, aware that each day could bring its own set of challenges. The anticipation of the upcoming family gatherings, the necessity of revealing your pregnancy to Jake and his family, and the practical considerations of managing work commitments with your condition were all prominent on your mind as you navigated the road to your appointment.

Parking your F-250 in the hospital parking lot, you felt a mix of excitement and anticipation wash over you as you made your way to the entrance. Today was not just any ordinary visit to the doctor. You had been given the option to find out the sex of your baby during this appointment, and you had eagerly agreed. As you walked towards the entrance of the hospital's entrance, your excitement grew. This pregnancy was a week longer than the last one and all of your appointments showed great progress.

Lying on your back on the examination table, with a full bladder which is often recommended for better ultrasound images, you awaited the procedure with a blend of nervousness and excitement. The ultrasound technician applied warm jelly to your belly, a sensation that was both strange and comforting. As the tech started moving the ultrasound probe across your stomach, the cold of the gel was quickly forgotten, replaced by the anticipation of seeing your baby on the screen. The room was filled with the soft hum of the machine, a backdrop to the extraordinary moment unfolding.

"So, what do you think it is?" the ultrasound technician inquired, her eyes still focused on the monitor as she maneuvered the probe.

You gave a small shrug, mixed with a hopeful smile. "I, personally, think it's a boy," you said, the words carrying your wishful thinking.

The technician continued her scanning, her movements precise. "Well, as soon as...oh! There we go! You're correct! You're having a boy!" she announced, a note of excitement in her voice matching your own.

"Really?" Your smile broadened, a mixture of surprise and joy lighting up your face.

The tech adjusted the screen slightly, orienting it so you could have a clear view. "See, right there. That's a little penis." She pointed out the defining feature with professionalism, yet her tone carried a hint of shared joy.

Looking at the screen filled you with an indescribable feeling. You and Jake were going to be parents. The reality becoming real again.

That evening, you made your way through the mudroom and entered the kitchen, where Chuck was busy preparing dinner.

"How did your appointment go?" he inquired.

"It went quite well," you responded.

"Did they tell you what it is?"

A smile spread across your face. "It's a boy."

Chuck's smile mirrored yours. "Doc, that's fantastic news! The Lieutenant is going to be over the moon!"

"I know, I'm so excited. It feels surreal that this is happening again."

Chuck walked over and embraced you. "You're going to be an amazing mother."

After the embrace, you let out a sigh. "Now, the question is, how do I tell Jake's family without them spilling the beans to him?"

Chuck pulled back slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he pondered your question. "Well, knowing them, keeping a secret might be a bit of a challenge. But maybe we can turn this into something fun, a kind of game."

You looked at him curiously, intrigued by the idea.

"How about during Thanksgiving you come up with a game?" he suggested. "We could say it's just to catch up, nothing out of the ordinary. And during the gathering, we give them a 'mission' – they have to come up with the most creative way to keep the secret from Jake, making it a bit of a competition among them."

You couldn't help but laugh at the thought. "That could actually work. They love a good challenge. But what about when Jake finds out? Won't he feel left out?"

Chuck nodded, considering. "We make sure that the reveal to Jake is something special, just between you and him. That way, the family gets to have their fun, but the most important moment remains intimate and personal."

"That's a great idea," you agreed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "It keeps everyone engaged and makes the reveal to Jake even more memorable."

"Exactly," Chuck smiled, returning to the stove.

Pulling out your phone, you said, "I'll look up some bakeries and figure something out." Pondering for a moment, you added, "Maybe some Thanksgiving cupcakes, but with blue icing or a blue filling?"

"That sounds like a fantastic idea!" Chuck agreed enthusiastically. "So, when they unwrap them or take a bite, they'll be curious about what's going on."

Glancing at your watch, you noted it was Monday, and you weren't scheduled to leave until the following Tuesday. There was hope you could find a bakery in time. "I'm going to make some phone calls," you announced and made your way to the office to start the arrangements.

That following Tuesday as you disembarked from the plane, you made your way towards the waiting area where you knew Jake's mom would be waiting.

"Y/N!" she called out, spotting you in the crowd. She quickly moved towards you.

You both shared a warm embrace.

"It's so good to see you," she said as you both stepped back from the hug.

"It's great to see you too," you responded, the warmth of the greeting easing the fatigue from the journey. "I've been looking forward to this visit."

Jake's mom, with her ever-present smile, linked her arm with yours as she started to guide you through the bustling airport. "Have you heard from Jake?"

"No. It's been a couple of weeks. I know he's been doing some pretty intense training, so I'm not surprised. He did say he was going to try and call on Thanksgiving."

"That's good to hear," she responded, pausing with you in front of the baggage claim area.

Her expression held a mix of understanding and concern, a sentiment shared by families of those in demanding professions. "I'm sure he'll make the call. Jake knows how important these moments are, especially around the holidays."

As you waited for your luggage to appear on the conveyor belt, she continued, "We all miss him terribly, but knowing he's out there, doing what he loves and is passionate about, makes it a bit easier to bear."

Your luggage arrived, and together, you maneuvered it off the belt. With everything gathered, you followed her to the car, the conversation flowing effortlessly between you. It was comforting, this sense of family and connection, especially with Jake away.

As you settled into the passenger seat, Jake's mom glanced over with a soft smile. "So, tell me everything. How have you been? And how's work?"

The drive to their home provided the perfect opportunity to catch up, share stories, and for a moment, bridge the gap Jake's absence had left.

The following day, you made your way to Texas A&M to catch up with Dr. Colson. Upon your arrival, he welcomed you warmly, and you both embraced in a heartfelt hug.

"Y/N! It's so wonderful to see you!" He examined you from head to toe. "You seem different somehow, or is it just me?"

You couldn't help but smile, the secret you were keeping making his comment feel even more poignant. "It's good to see you too, Dr. Colson. And maybe there is something different," you said, your smile broadening as you spoke.

Dr. Colson raised an eyebrow, his interest clearly piqued. "Oh? Do tell. I hope it's good news."

Taking a deep breath, you decided it was as good a time as any to share the news with someone who had been a mentor and friend through many significant moments in your life. "Well, it is actually. I'm expecting," you revealed, watching his reaction closely.

The look of surprise quickly morphed into one of pure joy. "That's wonderful news!" Dr. Colson exclaimed, embracing you once again. "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you. How have you been feeling? And how does Jake feel about it?" he asked as he pointed to the chair for you to sit down in and you did.

"Jake doesn't know yet. I don't want him to worry like he did last time. Luckily, the grant was substantial enough that I could hire a few interns, and my job also brought on an intern."

"That's fantastic news. I'm pleased to hear things are progressing more smoothly than before."

"Me too."

"Well, now onto some business," he said, pushing a file across the desk towards you.

You picked it up, opened it, and after reading through it, looked up at him perplexed. "This is Dorian's research," you stated, a mix of confusion and curiosity in your tone.

Dr. Colson nodded, his expression becoming a bit more serious. "Yes, it is. I wanted you to take a look at it because we've realized that a lot of the work in the book was actually yours. I'd like you to review his work. Now, this will require you to spend a few weeks in Wyoming, but that's all. The university will cover all expenses."

"I'm not concerned about the money, Jason," you replied, meeting his gaze.

"I know that," he acknowledged. "Your concern is more about Dorian."

"It's not just that," you continued. "I'm also worried about how Jake will react. He was so relieved when I decided against taking the grant in Wyoming and you offered me my current grant." You set the folder back on his desk.

"Just give it some thought, Y/N. If you choose not to go, I'll completely understand. But I have to be honest, Dorian's work hasn't been up to the mark this time around," Dr. Colson said earnestly.

You inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly. "I'll think about it," you assured him, the weight of the decision settling on your shoulders. Standing up, you sought clarity on the timeline. "When do you need an answer by?"

"As soon as possible, I'm afraid. I'm aware the holidays might complicate things, but we need to keep moving," he explained.

"Can you send me what you have so far? I can at least start looking at the numbers," you suggested, hoping to make an informed decision.

"Gladly," he agreed with a nod, acknowledging your willingness to consider the request.

"You owe me, Jason," you half-joked, pointing a finger at him to emphasize the point.

"Don't I know it," he responded, a mix of gratitude and acknowledgment in his voice.

Later that evening, you entered Jake's parents' kitchen, carrying a box brimming with cupcakes. Cindy was the only one around.

"Y/N, you really didn't need to bother with dessert," Cindy remarked as you set the box on the counter.

"It's no trouble at all. Take a look—they turned out really cute!" You opened the box to reveal adorable turkey-shaped cupcakes peering up at you.

Cindy leaned over the box, a delighted smile spreading across her face. "Oh, these are just wonderful!"

"You should try one," you suggested, reaching in to pick up a cupcake and handing it to her. "I had one on the ride home."

Cindy laughed, taking the cupcake from you. "I shouldn't spoil my appetite, but who can resist something this cute?" She admired the detail for a moment longer before taking a small bite. Her eyes lit up, confirming her approval. "Delicious! The frosting is just the right amount of sweet." She inspected it closely, then her eyes widened at the sight of the blue filling. "Y/N, it's filled with blue. I think they made a mistake."

"No, the blue is intentional. The ultrasound tech confirmed it last week," you explained with a smile.

Cindy paused, processing the information. Realization dawned on her face as she looked up at you. "Y/N…are you…?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

Cindy's eyes widened in shock and delight. "OH MY GOD!!! I'm going to be a grandma again!?"

"Yes, you are!" you exclaimed, sharing in her excitement. Cindy rushed over and enveloped you in a warm, tight hug.

"This is such wonderful news!" Cindy said, pulling back slightly to look at you with teary eyes. "How are you feeling? Tell me everything!"

You laughed, thrilled to finally share the news. "I'm feeling good, a little tired, but it's all worth it. I wanted to wait until I was sure to start telling everyone."

Cindy wiped a tear from her eye and shook her head in disbelief. "This is just the best news. Jake must be over the moon!"

At the mention of Jake's name, you stiffened, and Cindy picked up on your reaction.

"Y/N, you have told him, haven't you?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

You shook your head. "No, and please don't tell him."

Cindy’s expression shifted from excitement to confusion, and then concern washed over her face. "Oh, honey, why haven't you told him? What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath, knowing that explaining this was going to be as hard as deciding to keep it a secret, even temporarily. "I've been trying to find the right moment. With everything going on at work and him being deployed, I just didn't want to add more to his plate until things settled a bit."

Cindy's expression softened as she reached out and took your hands in hers, her touch warm and reassuring. "You're afraid of what happened last time, aren't you?"

You nodded, the weight of your worries momentarily pressing down. "I love him, but what he did hurt. I've taken all the precautions this time. I have interns helping me, but I know Jake still thinks I shouldn't be doing my job."

"How far along are you?" Cindy's voice carried a mixture of excitement and concern.

"Just hit four months this week. Chuck has been helping me a lot too," you replied, grateful for the support.

Cindy's eyes shimmered with a mix of emotions. "Four months… you've been carrying this secret along with everything else." She paused, her gaze intensifying with empathy. "You're doing incredibly well, but you shouldn't have to do this alone. Jake needs to know, not just because it's his right, but because he might surprise you. He loves you, and he might just be scared too."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, touched by Cindy's understanding. "I want to tell him. I really do. It’s just… every time I think about it, I get so anxious. What if he reacts badly again?"

Cindy squeezed your hands, a determined look setting on her face. "Let’s not assume the worst. He’s grown since then, and so have you. And if he reacts poorly, you aren’t alone this time. You have me, Chuck, and the rest of your family and friends who will stand by you no matter what."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, feeling a surge of resolve bolstered by Cindy's unwavering support. "You're right. He's supposed to be calling on Thanksgiving. Maybe if we all tell him, it won't be so bad."

Cindy nodded encouragingly. "That sounds like a good plan. Having everyone there might make it a more celebratory atmosphere, and it’ll show him that you’re not alone in this. It’s important he sees the support system around you."

You felt a little more confident with the idea of having the support of the whole family when you shared the news. "Thank you, Cindy. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Cindy smiled warmly. "You'll never have to find out. Just remember, whatever his initial reaction, it's just a moment. It will pass, and we'll deal with what comes after together."

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891

[nrdmssgs]

Activision doesn't understand, how Russian language works

Spoilers to CoD MW3 below the cut.

@sofasoap @siilvan @cumikering @stag-beetle-wastaken @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot be my guests.

First and most important: this rant is not aimed to 'make Russian culture great again'. I am not offended as a representative of some cultural or linguistic group. But as a member of gaming community, I feel, as if Activision... kinda didn't give a flying f about the gaming experience, that they are trying to sell me for 60 Euros. And I can't say, I like this feeling.

Second: I will be criticizing some approaches to language, that I will never criticize in fanfiction. Because you guys are doing it for free, for the sake of having fun. So I will be ok with you just straight using Google translate to write e.g. Nikolais lines in Russian. Because you never ask me to pay 60 Euros for the right to read your works. With that being mentioned, lets roll!

Activision doesn't pay attention to their own script, when it comes to Russian lines

Ok, this is a major issue. Because Activision sometimes gives completely different information in character line and in the subtitles. And it is not some minor information, we are talking about major plot details!

Let's just watch 20 seconds of a playthrough (time code 8:44)

Pay attention closely to how Makarov starts his monologue after Nolan says "Its an honor, commander". Makarovs subtitles say 'four years', when Makarov says something like 'shest let'. "four" in Russian is "chetyre", "six" is "shest`". These words sound nothing alike! And to check this, you literally need 5 seconds on google translate! Here, Activision, I did your work for you and I don't even ask for 60 freaking Euros! You learn these numbers on your second-third lesson of Russian 101!

There are ways to fix this scene. There are even ways to do it without reshooting Julian (because ok, I get it, maybe he costs so much, that all our 60 Euros purchases would never help Activision to economically recover...). All you need is to ask him to record TWO WORDS!

Activision doesn't care for wording even in the simplest proverbs

You remember a saying "enemy of my enemy is my friend"? I mean, of course you do, even John Price remembers it! And you know, who forgot this saying? Activision did! Because honest to god, I was very happy with our new Yuri, until he produced this ominous linguistic construction... (time code 56:10)

And if you think, it sounds just a tad off in English... Well, in Russian this sounds, as if a Colonel, a man, who spent tenths of years constantly communicating with soldiers, superiors, officials, started learning Russian... a month ago.

This is an international proverb, it exists in many languages! Now this is a safe case to use an automatic translator! It gives you a very simple answer.

But for some mysterious reason, Activision writes their strange line, translate to russian and find a poor-working synonym so that Yuri doesn't say 'opponent' twice... And in the end it kinda still makes sense, but this whole phrase sounds so off!! You never choose this sick long, overloaded wording for a proverb, that you literally learn at school. They just make it look like zarin is already there and it affects Yuri heavily.

This is just one example, but in reality, almost every Makarovs monologue sounds very strangely formulated. I just got you one example, but believe me, this is a systematic issue here. And the strangest thing is that all their errors are so easy to fix, but they never bothered!

Activision doesn't care for how Russian sounds

Ok, this is not a rant against Julian Kostov. The guy does his wor absolutely gorgeous! He steals every scene, where he appears, and I have nothing, but respect for him. However... Russian is a complicated language. For real. It is full of long words, with many unfamiliar for European ear sounds. It is not only difficult to understand it - it is complicated even to imitate it.

Now apparently Julian knows Russian to some extent just because of his origin and age. But that doesn't save him from swallowing some letters, syllables, sometimes even big parts of words. And when it happens in almost every line of his character - it becomes an issue. An issue, when even Russian-speaker has to read subtitles to understand, what is going on in a scene with two Russian characters!

This whole scene is a nightmare (time code 1:42:54). Replaced letters, disappearance of parts of words, strange accents - they collected a bingo on this one.

And I dont blame actors here! Because on every shooting there is a director - a guy, who is responsible for how overall scene will look and sound in the end. There is always a possibility to find someone, who actually speaks the language and make them sit and listen! And if there are many issues with pronunciation revealed - you just come to your actors and say 'guys, you did amazing jobs, we are so happy to work with you. Now can we please do another shot and pay attention to these lines of yours?'.

And believe me, it is ok to have multiple shots for ingame cutscenes! Actors are ok with that! I don't ask for a perfect pronunciation, I just ask Activision to make sure, their characters don't sound as if they are speaking gibberish!

The most strange part here is that there are super-clean lines in game as well! Milena spoke with accent too, but she sounded clear! Some NPCs sounded perfect!

So Im sorry, but at the end of the day - this your most accurate Russian character by Activision. Because he chose to speak English.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Sukapon

Debut: Joy Mech Fight

I have never liked fighting games all that much... too competitive for me! And often so complicated. No thank you.

But a fighting game where every character is a funny robot with floating limbs and the main character is some pink orbs with an eyes? Yahoo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Joy Mech Fight is very silly and strange, and it is also a fighting game for the Famicom, and that is why it is so silly and strange. But it’s pretty genius! To have the characters be so big and animated, their bodies are made of small, disconnected sprites that can go all over the place! It is very impressive!

The game’s story is NOT impressive! It is nearly identical to the plot of Mega Man. Two scientists make robots, one becomes evil and makes the robots evil, the good one has to reprogram a non-combat robot to fight, that whole thing. The bad scientist’s name even starts with a W! He has an evil castle with a W on it! It’s really quite funny. His name is Dr. Walnuts.

Anyway, the aforementioned non-combat robot is Sukapon! My beloved bundle of balls! Sukapon is a comedy robot who loves nothing more than to stand up on stage and be silly. And even as a Fighting Robot, this personality does not change!

Here is Sukapon’s “Good Punch”. I think it’s pretty good!

And this is one of Sukapon’s signature moves, Tondeker, in which it throws one of its head! It has an infinite supply of its own head, so it’s ok. See how impressive? They figured out infinite matter generation in this game!

In the opening cutscene of the game... we get to witness the Birth Of Sukapon!

One day in the lab, a robot is being made! Some kind of serious-looking guy, in a tube. This serious guy is very important, and is in fact my favorite character in the game! We’ll get to that. What’s important is that the procedure is activated, something goes wrong, and there’s an explosion...

And out comes Sukapon! Dancing with glee! Happy birthday! See? That serious-looking guy is my favorite character, because that was Sukapon all along! It seems the Sukapon we know is a sort of unintended result. Cuter, sillier, pinker. Better! I’m not sure what the original robot was supposed to be, but it doesn’t look like much of a comedian. Whatever the case, even though things did not go as planned, Sukapon is well loved, and gets to be as silly as it wants!

As the story mode goes on, Sukapon’s opponents get stronger and stronger, including stronger versions of previous opponents... and even a stronger version of Sukapon! This is Sukapokon! I feel like this is a very profound moment in Sukapon’s journey. It’s come so far, defeated so many powerful opponents, but here it is, faced with an objectively better version of itself. That’s heavy stuff for a robot! And you know what? Sukapon wins, against all odds! I honestly feel like a situation like this is worthy of being a final boss battle, with the personal stakes and impact it has for Sukapon as a character.

In reality, the game does not give this battle any more fanfare than all the rest! This is all Dr. Walnuts has to say about Sukapokon:

Yeah, ok. Whatever, gramps!

Sadly, Nintendo would go on to lose the rights to Joy Mech Fight, preventing Sukapon from making further appearances... but then they found the rights! They had literally just misplaced them.

Most recently, Sukapon has appeared as an Assist Trophy in Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, its second major appearance ever, but a very notable one! Fully modeled HD Sukapon, doing recreations of classic Sukapon attacks! What’s that you got there, Sukapon? A Luigi? What fun! Just make sure you put it back where you found it when you’re done playing!

I will leave you with a tidbit that will change your perception of Sukapon forever. The U is basically silent! It’s pronounced Skapon! Now you can go back and reread the post with this knowledge, and it is like you get a whole extra post for free!

[novamilano1]

"It takes a fool to remain sane !" The fool, the jester and the journey towards truthfulness and acceptance of difference ! Open your eyes baby ! Let’s be brave together ! Young Royal analysis.

So it all started with a question that arose in the Kingdom (long live the Kingdom !), a group of fans discussing all things related to YR, playing detectives and throwing spaghettis all around to see what sticks (Kingdom TM). What does the drawing Sara makes mean, what to do with this strange Nordic Nisse ( a playful winter Gnome who loves to play tricks) under this blazing sun ? A winter gnome around Christmas makes sense. But what about the sun ?

The image reminded me of a court jester and of the tarot card where the fool is represented by the sun.

So we dived together, we found many interesting conclusions and today, I would like to go further, first to link it to the main song “it takes a fool to remain sane” and to link this carnival theme to the Valborg’s theme present in the S3 trailer. Let’s dive.

The song first chosen to represent the love story, the one that could be sung, the one destined to mesmerize the Handsome prince was “Symphony” by Zara Larrson. Then they switched it to “It takes a fool to remain sane” by the Ark. It’s the first song we hear in YR, in the church, with a Solo by Simon. It’s an important song.

And the song continues a little bit in the next scene where Wille and Eric rediscover their inner child, play the fool by running up the stairs trying to escape the PR circus and the scrutiny. The song invites Wille and all of us to be the jester, to play it like a harlequin, to “take it to the stage in a multicoloured jacket /Take it jackpot, crackpot, strutting like a peacock/Nailvarnish Arkansas, shimmy-shammy featherboah /Crackpot, haircut, dye your hair in glowing red and blue”, Yeah Go  Simon ! Go Wille ! Go Wilmon ! (It's strange to see Wille in pink or in studded jackets etc. but I kinda like seeing him experimenting his true self, be brave etc. Embrace the madness baby ! )

So the song invites us to be different, to “be brave, to break down the walls of attitude” just for the sake of it. It invites us to not be afraid “to feel strange, to feel ashamed, to seem strange, to seem insane, to gain weight, to seem gay”. The song tells us that it’s “your right to laugh at me”, that it will not prevent me to “feel brave, because ridicule is no shame”.

Simon the gay, Wille the rebel to rules and Sara the autist embody the outsiders, the free thinkers who dare to be different, to not care about the look, to speak freely, to find one’s voice even if this is a painful journey. The struggles to be the fool in order to stay sane, the journey to be able to speak one’s truth is hard, leads to a steep hill.

To speak freely, to question the conventions, the traditions is exactly the role of the court jester. He has to open everyone’s eyes to the madness of society. Sara does it quite naturally. Wille endlessly attempts to do so with his parents (to no avail so far) thanks to Boris. He questions their reality. He opens his eyes and try to take them to also open theirs and question appearances. In a carnivalesque society where the jester has its own place, the roles can be reversed. The  fool can be a king, the gender boundaries have no meaning, the class divides are pointless.

So what’s the link to Valborg  ? Valborg is quite different. It has another meaning. But there is also a fire that ends the obscure times to lead to the light. And the carnival where the jester reigns normally ends with a bonfire where you burn all the old meaningless symbols. The fool and everyone are invited to dance and chant around a fire to start a revolution, i.e a reversal of roles, a new life, a new beginning.

So thanks to YR and  the Ark, we all know what we have to do:

Do, do, do what you wanna do Don't think twice, do what you have to do Do, do, do, do, let your heart decide What you have to do That's all there is to find 'Cos it takes a fool to remain sane Oh, in this world all covered up in shame

[c-t-r-l14]

See You Again

“I said I’m ‘bout to go to war,

And I don’t know if I’ma see you again.”

————————-🧡————————————

Synopsis: You find yourself wide awake, thinking about Dontis.

—————————-🧡—————————————-

“The sky was a shade of purple yesterday”.

A knot formed in your chest, and your whole body felt hollow. Heat bloomed throughout your entire being, and beads of sweat formed on your forehead as you typed.

“Yes, but the clouds rolled into orange hues.”

The overwhelming feeling of dread formed in the pit of your stomach, and you swayed slightly where you stood. You sucked in a deep, shaky breath and your whole body began to shake. You never would’ve guessed how two seemingly harmless sentences had such a profound effect on you. But, it made sense. Those words were the harbinger of war, and your beloved Dontis was in the very heart of the battlefield. With war, comes pain, and with pain, comes death, and it was a very likely possibility that Dontis could end up as a casualty. And, although this was something you’ve already realized, this stark, and very possible reality hasn’t hit you yet.

Feeling strangely detached from your own body, you started to get ready for bed.

……..

By the time you’ve emerged from the shower, night had fallen. The moon was out—its white radiance illuminating the midnight blue sky. There weren’t many stars peeking overhead that night, but the beautiful lights of the city that lived underneath the vast sky made up for it. You sighed inwardly, feeling hollow yet again. He would’ve loved this.

You remembered the first time you stayed in New Orleans with him. It was such an unfamiliar place—the city was bustling—full of rich culture, and people from many backgrounds, humans and supernatural beings alike. It was there where you finally saw what Dontis was trying to tell you when you two first met. There IS a place where everyone could live in harmony—without threat or fear. Without needing to hide. And that place was New Orleans. You remembered how Dontis beamed with absolute delight as he planned out what exactly you guys were going to do there, figuring out ways on how to make your stay so memorable, “that you’d never want to leave”—or however he put it. And if it were anyone else, they would’ve been smiling from ear to ear, eager to help with the planning, trying to find what days to go sightseeing at what time, and at what place; but all you could really think about was the recent revelations you’ve come to know, and how you’ve spent so many years of your life living a lie. Your hands were stained with the blood of so many people just to get this far—to finally catch the incubus who made your father go “missing.” And now the same incubus that you worked so hard to find stood before you, happily ranting about how exquisite Cafe du Monde’s cuisine was, and how you two should totally stop there for lunch tomorrow when he takes you on a tour around the city.

You let out a loud, hearty laugh—one that came from the very pit from your stomach, one so strong that it bounced from the back of your throat and reverberated against the buildings and streets. You couldn’t find the irony any more hilarious.

“What is so funny?” Dontis inquired, a bit confused as to why you were laughing seemingly out of nowhere.

“It’s just really crazy how just a little while ago, I had you tied up and chained in my basement. I never would’ve guessed that our lives—our relationship would go from that, to you planning on taking me on a grand tour around the city,” you chuckled, wiping a tear from your eye.

Dontis smiled—a smile that you grew fond of. A smile you’ve come to love.

“Ah, yes. Life could be crazy and unpredictable. But it could also be beautiful and exciting. Filled with anticipation and a bit of wonder. It’s for us to enjoy, if we allow ourselves to do that.”

You stared deeply into his eyes—his irises as gray as storm clouds, flecks of gold and brown peeking its way through the grey colored ocean that was his eyes. Soft and sweet. Warm and inviting. Loving and kind. And that was the first time you truly got to admire how gorgeous Dontis was. Your lips stretched into a toothy grin.

“Well,” You said, running your hand into your hair, “I’m glad you’re here to show me just how great life can be.”

And on this night, the moon was out, its white radiance on display for all to see.

The sky tinted in the shade of midnight blue.

Not a single star peeking overhead. The streets lined with city lights, and a bustling city that lived under the vast sky.

And it was a night just like this one, where you found love.

Your eyes began to sting and you crossed your arms, your nails digging into your skin to prevent yourself from falling into pieces. The reality struck you so hard that it almost knocked you over. Dontis may never come back, and that reality was too much to bear. And although you’ve made the decision to stay behind, you found yourself wishing that you went with him. You spent so many years of your life using your skills to hurt people, and it all amounted to nothing. But, this could’ve been your chance to actually put those skills to good use—to help and protect the ones you love instead of hurting and killing people for them. But it was all too late now. You let out a loud, forceful sob—one that came from the very pit of your stomach, one that clawed its way out of your throat, and made your chest tighten and burn. You sunk to the bed, your nails digging deeper and deeper into your skin. You had no idea what you’d do without him. He was the only person you actually gave a damn about. He was the only person you had ever truly loved. Being alone again in this world was a reality that you couldn’t handle. It was a reality that you weren’t willing to accept.

You laid in bed, although, you weren’t getting any sleep tonight.

Because Dontis had gone to war, and he had taken your heart with him.

———————————🧡——————————-

A/N: I remember listening to the audio where Dontis was saying goodbye to listener, and honestly his whole interaction with them just killed me inside. Dontis was the whole reason why listener was able to settle down in the first place—and he gave them the opportunity to actually live a life that didn’t have anything to do with violence and death. So, to see that the one person who taught you how to live your life now going off to risk their own, with a very big possibility of not coming back—just made me feel for them so bad.

I’m trying to get better at writing dialogue for these characters, so if there is any improvement that needs to be made, don’t hesitate to let me know!

That you so much for reading, ya’ll! 🧡

Masterlist

[beljar]

Van Gogh's Letters

[To Theo van Gogh. Arles, 20 May 1888]

We no longer rebel against things, we’re not resigned either — we’re ill and it’s not going to get any better — and we can’t do anything specific about it. I don’t know who called this condition being struck by death and immortality. The cab we drag along must be of use to people we don’t know. But you see, if we believe in the new art, in the artists of the future, our presentiment doesn’t deceive us. When good père Corot said a few days before he died: last night I saw in my dreams landscapes with entirely pink skies, well, didn’t they come, those pink skies, and yellow and green into the bargain, in Impressionist landscapes? All this is to say there are things one senses in the future and that really come about.

And we, who, I’m inclined to believe, are by no means so close to dying, nevertheless feel the thing is bigger than us and longer-lasting than our lives.

We don’t feel we’re dying, but we feel the reality of the fact that we’re not much, and that to be a link in the chain of artists we pay a steep price in health, youth, freedom, which we don’t enjoy at all, any more than the cab-horse that pulls a carriage full of people who, unlike him, are going out to enjoy the springtime. Well then — what I wish you as well as myself is to succeed in recovering our health, because we’ll need it. That Hope of Puvis de Chavannes is such a reality. There’s an art in the future and it will surely be so beautiful and so young that, really, if at present we leave it our own youth, we can only gain in tranquillity. Perhaps it’s too silly to write all this, but it’s what I felt; it seemed that like me, you suffered to see your youth going up in — smoke — but if it comes back and appears in what we do, there’s nothing lost, and the power to work is a second youth. So be serious about getting better, because we’ll need our health. I shake your hand firmly, and Koning’s too.

Ever yours,

Vincent

[To Emile Bernard. Arles, Sunday, 18 March 1888]

My dear Bernard,

Having promised to write to you, I want to begin by telling you that this part of the world seems to me as beautiful as Japan for the clearness of the atmosphere and the gay colour effects. The stretches of water make patches of a beautiful emerald and a rich blue in the landscapes, as we see it in the Japanese prints. Pale orange sunsets making the fields look blue – glorious yellow suns. However, so far I’ve hardly seen this part of the world in its usual summer splendour. The women’s costume is pretty, and especially on the boulevard on Sunday you see some very naive and well-chosen arrangements of colour. And that, too, will doubtless get even livelier in summer.

I regret that living here isn’t as cheap as I’d hoped, and until now I haven’t found a way of getting by as easily as one could do in Pont-Aven. I started out paying francs and now I’m on francs a day. One would need to know the local patois, and know how to eat bouillabaisse and aïoli, then one would surely find an inexpensive family boarding-house. Then if there were several of us, I’m inclined to believe we’d get more favourable terms. Perhaps there’d be a real advantage in emigrating to the south for many artists in love with sunshine and colour. The Japanese may not be making progress in their country, but there’s no doubt that their art is being carried on in France. At the top of this letter I’m sending you a little croquis of a study that’s preoccupying me as to how to make something of it – sailors coming back with their sweethearts towards the town, which projects the strange silhouette of its drawbridge against a huge yellow sun.

[To Theo van Gogh. Arles, Friday, 4 January 1889]

My dear brother

I hope that Gauguin will also completely reassure you a little regarding painting matters. I expect to start work again soon. The charwoman and my friend Roulin had taken care of the house, put everything in good order.

When I come out I’ll be able to continue on my way here again, and soon the fine days will come and I’ll start on the orchards in blossom again.

I am, my dear brother, so heartbroken by your journey, I would have wished that you’d been spared that, for all in all no harm has come to me, and it wasn’t worth troubling you.

I can’t tell you how much it delights me that you’ve made peace and even more than that with the Bongers. Say so on my behalf to André, and give him a very cordial handshake from me.

What wouldn’t I have given for you to see Arles in fine weather, now you have seen it when it’s dark. However, be of good heart, send the letters directly to me, place Lamartine. I’ll send Gauguin the paintings of his that are still at the house as soon as he wishes. We owe him the money he spent on the furniture.

Ever yours,

Vincent

[To Theo van Gogh, The Hague, 11 July 1883]

My aim is to do a drawing that not exactly everyone will understand, the figure expressed in its essence in simplified form, with deliberate disregard of those details that aren’t part of the true character and are merely accidental. Thus it shouldn’t, for example, be the portrait of Pa but rather the type of a poor village pastor going to visit a sick person. The same with the couple arm in arm by the beech hedge — the type of a man and woman who have grown old together and in whom love and loyalty have remained, rather than portraits of Pa and Ma, although I hope they’ll pose for it. But they must know that it’s serious, which they might not see for themselves if the likeness isn’t exact.

And should be a bit prepared, in the event that this happens, for having to pose as I say and not change anything. Well, that will be all right, and I don’t work so slowly as to make it a great effort for them. And for my part I would greatly value doing it. Simplifying the figures is something that very much preoccupies me. Anyway, you’ll see some for yourself among the figures I’ll show you. If I went to Brabant, it should certainly not be an excursion or pleasure trip, it seems to me, but a short period of very hard work at lightning speed. Speaking of expression in a figure, I’m becoming more and more persuaded that it lies not so much in the features as in the whole manner. I find few things as horrible as most academic facial expressions. I would rather look at ‘Night’ by Michelangelo, or a drunk by Daumier, or The diggers by Millet, and that large woodcut by him, The shepherdess. Or at an old horse by Mauve &c.

The Letters of Vincent Van Gogh by Vincent Van Gogh // Still Life of Oranges and Lemons with Blue Gloves, 1889 by Vincent van Gogh // The Night Cafe by Vincent van Gogh // The Cafe Terrace on the Place du Forum, Arles, at Night, c.1888 by Vincent van Gogh // Still Life, Vase With Fifteen Sunflowers by Vincent van Gogh // van Gogh's Orchard in Blossom (Plum Trees) // Letter from Vincent Van Gogh to His Brother Theo

Franz Kafka's Letters to Milena

[voiceofsword]

everyday i wake up and remember that Rinne got flustered when Shinobu genuinely told him that he was genius.... i have many crazyb scenarios floating in my head because of this info

its like. your telling me that all it takes is for rinne's unitmates to say ONE genuine compliment towards him to make him short circuit and lose the act ??? and your telling me niki has NOT taken advantage of this???? COULD YOU IMAGINE THE POWER HE WOULD HAVE IF NIKI JUST KNEW THIS INFORMATION???

i hc that rinne's unitmates (esp niki) will just randomly give him a genuine compliment just to see him flustered and be the one embarrassed for once, like some strange sort of karma or something

OK LOL THIS IS MY SECOND TIME WRITING THIS, I WROTE OUT A WHOLE ASS ESSAY AND TUMBLR DECIDED TO WIPE IT CLEAN....I WROTE LIKE 600 WORDS WITH SCREENCAPS AND EVERYTHING THE FIRST TIME and now its 1.5k words. 

ANYWAYS YES YES YES ANON.... I TOTALLY AGREE i think about this a lot.. asobi club my beloved. i also think the crazyb scenarios have SOOO much potential and i loooove thinking about stuff like this as well because its always nice to take the more outwardly confident charas down a peg. because why not. im a sucker for niki having the upper hand for once ❤️

now i will proceed to provide 500 examples and analyse them because i also think about this facet of rinne’s character a lot (the one that becomes timid when good stuff is said about him, or how he’s actually a Nice Person but covers that up as best as he can) and i would like other ppl to think about it a lot too. this is basically just a hc/small analysis dump post so sorry anon for you have opened the floodgates 

i love every aspect of rinne’s personality but this side of him, the one that grows so easily flustered around others when he’s caught off-guard, is the best imo. he doesn’t really show it around most ppl, only niki, hiiro, and kids (like shinobu!!) because those are the only ppl that bring that out, bc theyre so earnest, so genuine in their intentions, that rinne is forced to confront reality As Is instead of dance around the subject.

a lot of the cast is convinced that rinne is this unapproachable, eccentric, inconsiderate asshole (which is true, at times - he’s carefully developed this persona so if he wants people to see him that way, it’s what they see) but when they actually put away these boundaries a lot of the time ppl see that he’s just. some guy (a silly example of this is chill yellow where hokuto, tsukasa and keito try to enlist his help to help them ease into “villain” roles for their auditions, and when rinne sees their efforts he’s so bewildered by it all he puts his wild image to the side to be like what the hell? you guys are all freaks???)

gonna split this into several little sections but for example, with niki i think niki doesn’t realize he can take advantage of it because a lot of the time these advances from rinne are met with complete disbelief. granted niki doesnt really think to compliment rinne often, it’s usually the other way around. so when rinne is being completely earnest, unabashed in his devotion for niki, niki turns around and goes “what??? what?” like he cant understand that such nice words are being said to or about him. THIS IS A TOPIC FOR ANOTHER TIME THOUGH, we’re talking about rinne here…. sorry i am physically incapable of not making everything even a little bit about rinniki….

of course this grants rinne an easy way out: instead of addressing that he’s being fully serious and owning up to these feelings his kneejerk response is to be like “kyahaha, stuupid niki! i can’t believe you’d fall for that!” but we all know he’s dying inside. it’s obvious. there’s only so many genuine, loving remarks a guy can make towards his guy best friend before the audience starts catching onto the fact that maybe he’s not actually joking, and that his guy friend just has severe self esteem issues, and is also plain stupid (endearing). IF NIKI OPENED HIS EYES HE COULD HAVE RINNE ON HIS KNEES….. WE’RE ROOTING FOR YOU…..

that’s exactly what happens in this scene, and they go on to play bicker because thats. their love language, i guess???? they’re weird. i love them

also we all know how rinne reacts to niki asking to kiss him in hot limit. regardless of how you interpret his reply (whether hes upholding his hometowns customs, being shy, or trying to make sure niki is serious about him..) most ppl can agree that after all of his advances in main story and towards niki In General he was probably freaking out, but handling it very well

niki is simply too reactive to respond to rinne’s genuine comments and be calm about it… i dont think he realizes rinne truly means all of them and his view about himself is too low to just accept the compliments and when niki gets flustered, rinne gets flustered too, but unlike him becoming speechless like he does with other people, rinne combats it with humor, b/c this is the sort of thing he and niki are used to. this, however, is not how he deals with affection coming from other people…..

gonna attach the exact scene i think you were talking about here, but when compliments come from those younger than him, like hiiro and shinobu, his initial reaction is a lot different

i’m going to link the tl for nursery rhymes as the op does not want their tls reposted, but this is the exact chapter that i think you’re referring to, the interaction itself is at the very end in case other people would like to see.

rinne points out that there’s no clever retort to shinobu’s genuine compliment, that there’s no banter he can build off of to “defend” himself - so he’s left feeling shy, and exposed. ofc its not shinobus intention to make him feel bad and idt rinne feels bad, necessarily, it’s just jarring.

rinne has a very cultivated persona that he’s built from the ground up from the end of his solo career to his current career in crazy:b. there are times this mask “slips” and he’s brought back to a similar personality to the one he had as a child in flashbacks or himself as a 17 y/o in hot limit, where he’s more meek, quiet, careful with his words, not purposely inflammatory. usually, he’s really good at keeping up appearances! look at his reputation in ES as a troublemaker with a complete disregard for everyone around him!

but when he’s confronted by people who are more “pure”, who don’t question his intentions from the get-go, he is at a loss. rinne is good around most kids because there’s no sort of “prejudice” against him, for lack of a better term; the people that this sort of thing happens around would be 1) people he loves and trusts entirely, who have known him before this persona even came into fruition (niki, hiiro) 2) people who aren’t immediately defensive around him, who don’t see him as a bad guy and trust him inherently (shinobu, for example!! sora, too! i feel like asobi club is a perfect example of this, both the story and the club itself!)

now hiiro… rinne replies to hiiros compliments in a similar way to how niki replies to His, because there’s a deep trust there between the two even though they’ve been apart for several years, and there’s enough trust for rinne to shut hiiro down completely, and get entirely flustered. i think a lot of why he’s like this with him stems from the fact that up until now hiiro was unable to express his love for his brother, or namely, he wasn’t allowed to, because of how they grew up.

rinne’s used to loving his brother, caring for him, but not the other way around, because in their hometown they were both raised with the idea that hiiro is a “liability”, that his role was to be rinne’s advisor and nothing else. for that reason and many others, rinne left his town, both because he was sick of his lack of liberty as well as being told that loving his brother was wrong, that he had to treat the one person he treasured at the time badly, that he was meant to be a leader and nothing else.

rinne goes on to explain this several times during the main story, but this is my fav instance of it b/c it hits really hard

any type of love from or towards hiiro, in this case familial, is foreign to him. so when rinne goes 5+ years without seeing his brother and his brother eventually learns that being affectionate towards rinne is okay, he’s obviously going to be a bit flustered! he’s not used to it! and hiiro is very loud and proud about it too, which probably makes it even worse for rinne. AND EVERYONE ELSE.. hiiro is not the best at picking up social cues but that is ok. it’s like when you learn something new and want to keep doing it so you dont forget and because its exciting!! hiiro is learning how to love and rinne is happy for him but he’s not equipped to deal with that .

NOT A SCREENCAP FROM IN-GAME BUT I THINK ABOUT THIS VIDEO SO OFTEN… hiiro being excited to perform with his brother and rinne is so speechless at his enthusiasm he’s like y-yeah. I LOVE IT WHEN HE IS RENDERED SPEECHLESS!!!!! 🗣️🗣🗣

the very end of main story (ch5) is dedicated to rinne talking about how he’s been told he’s wrong his whole life over every little thing he does, and i think that provides such valuable insight as to why rinne is the way he is? and why he can’t respond to genuine compliments coherently. even tho he presents himself as self-assured and does whatever the fuck he wants at this point i still think he suffers from berating himself, and it shows whenever he’s being self-sacrificial and justifies bad things happening to him with “well, i deserve this”. even though he’s come a long way, it’s always hard to unlearn harmful behaviors learned from youth

i dont rly know how to end this off because i went on such a tangent answering this hc ask IM SORRY ANON…. if u wanted me to draw smth please send another ask idm at all i just had to ramble because i love rinne-kun very much. i think he deserves the world, and just like hiiro, he is also learning to give and receive love without restraint, just in a different way. in the meantime i will relish in him getting embarrassed every time someone says smth nice to him 🙏

help me

[drbased]

Time for another major take-down

This is a Big One. I'm going to analyse I Am A Transwoman. I Am In The Closet. I Am Not Coming Out.

Part 1

Let's get into it. Firstly, the note at the start: I hate how it's become commonplace to write something online - a literal public space, accessible to anyone - and then when criticised immediately back-track and call it 'private' and 'a diary entry'. This applies to radfems on tumblr, or anyone tbh. If you want something to remain private, write it privately.

Correlation, meet causation.

Yeah, there's a reason the phrase 'correlation does not equal cause causation' exists. But this is the primary tool of human narrative-making and exactly why it is so easy for trans-identified people to discover past 'evidence' of their gender. Occam's razor is thrown out because the dull reality feels much less significant than the constructed narrative.

Ever the magical thinker, I tell myself that if I wish out loud one thousand times, I will wake up with long hair in cute pajamas with a different name — and maybe freckles.

One might consider it a minor nitpick, but here lies the primary issue: the gender essentialism that people internalise as children is not discarded as sexist nonsense, but instead the sunk-cost fallacy works its magic. Of course, the author might be using some flowery language to merely evoke the image of 'girl' in the reader's mind - but the mere fact that someone in this culture is able to communicate the exact concept of biological sex by referencing sexed roles/expectations shows just how ingrained these beliefs are in our society.

The next part, at eight years old, is especially sad. Causation and correlation definitely have a rocky relationship here. He describes getting on with mostly women. Something as basic as being friends with and admiring the females in his life is seen as 'proof' of his female identity. But of course, you're a transwoman in the closet. How many of these 'women' you like and admire, are actually women? You say you think divorced, tattooed, Catie's mum is cool - what if that person is actually a man? Or if that feels like a cheap argument, do you think that all these women especially like you, above all other 'boys' your age? Do you think they can tell?

When I ask to sleep over at my friends’ houses, I am told I am not allowed. Boys are not allowed. My friend Caitie’s mother argues about this on the phone with my mother. I realize my mother is not on my side.

No sarcasm here - I don't really get this bit. Did you mean to write that girls are not allowed? Because historically, parents are fine with boys having sleepovers together - it's typically cross-sex sleepovers that parents find an issue with, for all sorts of reasons. Not allowing sleepvers with other boys would be a concern of your mum specifically; nothing to do with gender. And speaking of your mum, your takeaway is that she's not on your side? What a strangely powerful conclusion to come to from one minor thing. Parents give their kids all sorts of weird and stupid rules. She might have her own reasons to not let you go to sleepovers - have you, say, asked her?

I love everything my sister loves, but I will not admit it. I know she and her friends will make fun of me. I know my parents will chastise me and correct me. I am learning the rules, and I am learning that boys liking girl things is a very high stakes issue. I am learning that adults react the same way to my interest in makeup as they do to my interest in matches and lighters.

Oh, you're learning the rules, are you? Did you ever want to un-learn them, maybe question them a bit, at least wonder for a second why the rules are that way? I once asked a trans person in DMs if they'd wondered why certain gendered expectations exist, and they responded 'to be honest, I hadn't really thought about it'. Remember, trans people are supposed to know more about gender than cis people. I've known trans people IRL to obsess over the details of their passing with zero questioning of the status quo. The fact that we're supposed to consider this rhetoric to be truly radical is telling.

As if maybe, by being what I am, I might burn down something very important to them. Something that makes their life more comfortable and easy.

The reason that following gender expectations makes life comfortable and easy for 'cis women' is exactly the same as it is for you: because it means that they don't have to feel angry at the world, that they can accept that everything they learned during childhood is natural and healthy and they don't have to hate their parents, peers and other adults for demanding certain things of them, and now as adults they retain certain 'perks' for conforming. You're only fractionally better because you're rejecting one set of expectations in favour of another - but in another way you're a whole lot worse because you're literally a member of the oppressor class wearing the costume of the oppressed class and thinking that makes you privy to their experiences. You're the one with a privilege so important to you that women's freedom and liberation would burn it down.

I am jealous of my sister’s clothing. One day, home alone after school, I sneak into her room and pull on her Tinkerbell Halloween costume. I slip the elastic straps over my shoulders, then the tights along my legs. It fits.

Ah, the classic. The charitable version of me acknowledges that many trans people have been perfectly willing to admit (especially pre 2016) that they're dysphoric over sex and will accept these surface-level associations purely to help them relieve dysphoria. And I understand that. But this man claimed at the start that correlation = causation, here. And you cannot tell me that everyone who has read this will be thinking as deeply as I am - many people are fully happy to admit that this has nothing to do with sex and entirely to do with gender i.e. gendered roles and expectations. To many people, that Tinkerbell costume is synonymous with 'female'. It makes you wonder why we decided to say that vaginas are female sex organs at all, if gender can be summed up with long hair and cute pyjamas.

[paimonial-rage]

what destiny has brought - fischl

synopsis: in which fischl gives a name she hasn’t used in a long time

ship: fischl x reader

notes: none

If Fischl had a Sommernachtgarten, a domain, of her own, she knew it would take the form of a library. Whenever the smell of old pages and ink met her nose, the anxiety in her heart subsided. The library had been her companion even before taking Oz as her familiar. It supported her when she wept and stayed by her side when she was alone. To her, it was home.

After arriving back from her trip to the Golden Apple Archipelago, she couldn’t help but feel a spring to her step. While she didn’t want to face her mirage at first, she left feeling anew. That day, she truly became the Prinzessin der Verurteilung. It made her want nothing more than to rush to her beloved library to read once more the book that it started it all, to reminisce on how far she came. So the first chance she received, she sent Oz on an errand and hurried to the home of her heart.

It didn’t take long to find it within the library. She knew the places of her favorite books by heart. With its deep violet spine and black adornments, it stood out amongst the other books on the shelf. So with joy in her heart, she made her way to its side only for it to be suddenly plucked out by another hand.

“Hey!”

You jumped as the sound of her voice caught you by surprise. But when you turned to see her, then her outfit, your expression went blank. Fischl felt her chest tighten ever so slightly. It wasn’t rare for her outfit to catch the eyes of others. Many found it strange and over the top, and she was positive your eyes would be soon telling her that too. Never did she expect a shy smile to find its way to your lips instead.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I’ve just never seen such an amazing replica of Fischl von Luftschloss Narfidort’s Dunkelnacht Sakrament before. Your outfit is phenomenal! Did you make it yourself? Did you use pictures or did you just go off of the descriptions in the book? I have to know!”

“Uh… I…”

As if finally catching yourself, you took a step back nervously with your arms up.

“Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable? Flowers for Princess Fischl is my favorite book series. I’m a bit of a hardcore fan as you can see…” You began with an embarrassed smile.

“No… I… I just… never met anyone that recognized my outfit before. I really like Flowers for Princess Fischl too.”

The voice that left her was so different from normal. It was soft and hesitant, as if just peeking out at the world for the first time. But you didn’t notice. Instead, you perked up and hopped close.

“Really? Are there not many fans in Mondstadt? It’s an amazing series. It really deserves more fans, don’t you agree? What is your favorite part? My favorite scene is in the third volume when…”

As fast as her heart beat in her chest, her brain was blank. Could anyone blame her? She was so used to hearing unkind whispers and seeing judgmental eyes. Never once had someone shown such an excited interest in something she liked. Never once had she been so quickly praised by someone who knew nothing about her.

Her reverie was broken when you gave a sheepish laugh.

“I am weirding you out, aren’t I? Here, you wanted to read this, didn’t you? I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone now,” you let out apologetically as you handed her the novel.

Her breath caught in her throat. Were you going to leave? Did she completely ruin it with the first person who could possibly understand her? N-No, she didn’t want that!!

“No, don’t leave! I… I’m sorry.”

Her gaze glued itself to her feet. How pathetic. How quickly she was brought from her high back down to reality. She would never be more than–

“Would you like to chat about Princess Fischl together then? If you’re free, of course. I’d love to hear your favorite parts!”

You smiled a kind smile as your warm eyes crinkled at the corners. As if the sun just came out on a dreary day, the creeping darkess faded from her heart, and in its place, something small started to bloom. She gave a shy smile.

“Um… sure, I’d love to.”

You grinned in return. Before you could turn to a table to sit at, you gasped as a thought suddenly popped into your mind.

“By the way, my name is First. What’s your name?”

The answer she gave left her lips before it even took form in her mind.

“Amy.”

—

She learned much about you that day. You were not a citizen but a visitor to Mondstadt. You came with your father from Fontaine to learn more about the windmills that sat on the edges of the city. You mentioned with a wink that you already had an invention brewing in your mind. Once you nailed down the specifics, you would tell her all about it. She would be lying that grin of yours didn’t make her heart stutter.

You talked so naturally with her that it was as if you knew her for years. You cracked jokes and laughed with ease. Without even realizing, she found herself getting carried along by the melody of your tune. For the first time as… as Amy, she was happy.

But in the recesses of her heart, guilt pulled at her veins. Didn’t she just become Fischl von Luftschloss Narfidort? Wasn’t her speech in the glorious Immernachtreich her declaration that she accepted who she truly was? She reclaimed her heart, didn’t she?

So why was she so quick to throw it away?

But that smile of yours and the warmth of your eyes chased away the negative thoughts from seizing hold. You made her feel it was okay that the quiet awkward Amy that everyone whispered about existed. Even though people called her weird and her interests embarrassing, she could still be Amy and there was nothing wrong with that.

So caught by your flow she was that one of the days she met you in the library, she brought her writings along with her. Never had she shown them to anyone before, but somehow she knew you wouldn’t let her down.

“I honestly feel like I’m reading Mr. Nine’s next installment in the series!” You exclaimed with a grin. “You write Fischl and Ozvaldo so naturally.”

She played with the straps of fabric that hung from her sleeve shyly.

“You really think so? I wasn’t sure about that part…”

You laughed.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Amy! Would you mind if I took this with me tonight? I don’t think I’ll be able to finish it all here.”

She could barely stop herself from reeling back.

“Do you really like it that much?”

You rolled your eyes before glowering at her.

“Didn’t I just say that I don’t say things I don’t mean? Don’t doubt me. I really like this, Amy. In fact, if you’ve ever written anything else, I’d probably ask you to let me read them too!”

She felt her cheeks flush at your honest declaration. Really, she didn’t think her writings were that great…

“Have you?”

Her brow scrunched at your question.

“Have you ever written anything else?”

She flinched before waving her hands wildly in front of her.

“No, of course not! I don’t know what I’d even write about!”

Your shoulders dropped at her frantic confession.

“Well, I am telling you now that you should try. You have a wonderful writing style. You know Yae Publishing House in Inazuma often has light novel competitions. If you ever write one, you should send it in! But…” Your lips pulled back into a cheeky grin as you nudged arm her softly. “You’ll have to let me read it first. Promise me, okay?”

She sighed.

“Fine, I promise.”

—

Things seemed to be going too well for her. Out of all her friends, the person she showed the face of Amy to the most was Mona. But even the dear astrologist didn’t know Amy as well as you did. But that’s all you knew. You never met Fischl and she hoped the day would never come in which you would.

It was at times like this that she was thankful your work in Mondstadt kept you busy. When you weren’t in the library, you were off with your father studying the windmills. When night came, you went straight back to the inn to sleep your exhaustion away.

So when you ran into her in front of the Adventurers’ Guild, it was safe to say that her heart stopped. She would have been fine had she been alone, but Bennett was at her side.

She saw you before you saw her, but she didn’t have the chance to run before your eyes met hers. Immediately your face broke into a wide smile as you waved to her, but she couldn’t mirror your excitement. Even though she saw your lips move to the motion of her hidden name, she couldn’t hear a sound. It wasn’t long before your expression shifted to one of worry. As you took steps toward her, her urge to flee only grew.

“Fischl… Fischl? Someone’s trying to talk to you. They're calling you Amy for some reason.”

By this point, you were only a few yards away. Much to her despair, confusion flashed across your face.

“Well, of course. That’s her name, isn’t it?”

Bennett frowned.

“No, it’s Fischl. That’s what we’ve always called her.”

You took a step back hesitantly. And for the first time, you looked at her as if you didn’t know who she was. You looked at her as if–

She turned away.

She didn’t want to see more.

“My loyal servant, I shall bid you adieu. The echoing of the clock within mine Sommernachtgarten calleth me. Vagrant of Fontaine, thy time spent in my presence was indeed of a blessed partaking. Though our fates may not be twined with silver thread, I will always thank thee with the multitudes of gratitude within my heart. Good…”

Her voice cracked and suddenly she couldn't do it anymore.

She ran.

“Goodbye.”

—

She didn’t visit the library after that. Far from it, she fled. She knew your stay in Mondstadt was limited to a month, so she took commission after commission, quest after quest. The farther she was from Mondstadt, the farther she was from you, the better. Even as Oz pleaded with her to open her heart to him, she kept quiet.

Shame dragged her soul into the depths of self-hatred. What would Oz think of her if he found out she abandoned her title of Prinzessin so easily? And to tell you her real name as if she was ashamed of being Fischl. Was she implying she was rejecting him too? After all, she’d always send him on errands before coming to meet you. Was that a sign she was ashamed of him as well?

She wished nothing more than to go home, to her beloved library. Getting lost in books never failed to chase away her stresses and fears, but she knew you would be waiting there if she returned. Every time she stopped at the Adventurers’ Guild, Katheryne mentioned you asked for her yet again. But she memorized your schedule. Until you left, she knew which areas to avoid.

So when she arrived at the gates of Mondstadt early in the morning and saw you, her heart immediately stopped. There was a heavy bag upon your back and your comfortable shoes were traded for traveling boots. She wanted to laugh. It was just her luck to run into you the day you left. But if she backed away quietly enough, perhaps you would not notice–

“Mein Fräulein? Are you alright?”

Your eyes met hers and for that moment, you both simply stared at each other in shock. Fortunately for her, experience reigned her in faster than you. Before you could speak, she turn and ran. It wasn’t long before she heard the sound of your boots behind her.

“Wait! Please!!”

Though out of breath, your voice was tight with distress. You sounded like you were hurt, but why? Shouldn’t you be upset with her? And why were you so desperately chasing after her? Weren’t you supposed to be embarrassed for choosing to keep a loser like her company for so long? But before she could come to conclusions on her own, a voice broke through her thoughts.

“Please forgive your loyal servant for what he must do.”

Flying before her, he spread his wings to block her from continuing.

“Oz!? Just what are you–”

“You need to face your fears before it is too late, mein Fräulein.”

The sound of your heavy footsteps slowly came closer. You were moving much slower than from when she first started running. But with your heavy breathing and gasps for air, it was easy to tell why. She wished nothing more than to turn to see if you were alright, but her feet were frozen in place. She couldn’t focus on anything but the odd blur of her vision and the hiccuping that matched the rhythm of the breath stuttering in her chest.

So when something touched her wrist, she flinched almost violently. She heard a soft murmur of apology before she felt it turn her hand around gently and slip something inside. It was thin and soft. A piece of paper? Lifting it up, it was only after she tried and failed to read it that she decided to wipe at her eyes instead. Perhaps had she been paying more attention, she would have noticed that her hand came back wet, but the paper was more important.

“A-An address?”

The thickness of her voice and the sniffles that seemed to want to interrupt her at every turn caught her by surprise. Was she crying?

“It’s my address for when you send me your first manuscript.”

Her brain short-circuited. You weren’t going to– What in the world were you talking about?

“Yeah, you remember, right? For your first story. You promised me I’d be the first to read it. But I wouldn’t mind some letters too, you know.”

She was confused. Something wasn’t right here. Why were you acting as if she didn’t do anything wrong, like she didn’t lie to you and avoid you… like she wouldn't have been happiest had she never seen you again?

“I came up with a good story idea if you want to hear it.”

There was a playfulness to your voice. It was the tone that never failed to goad her into asking more. You knew she couldn’t help but give in and play along.

“O-Oh? And what is that?”

Her voice came out rough as she wiped her eyes. With all the despair she was feeling and wanted to feel, of course you had to pull her right out of it to match your tempo instead.

“I was thinking it could be about a girl, one that isn’t necessarily brave or outspoken like Princess Fischl. Instead, I imagine she’d be soft and quiet. She probably was hurt in the past, so I don’t think she’d have a high self-esteem either.”

She scoffed in between her slowly weakening sobs.

“Who would want to read anything about a girl like that?”

“Well that’s the thing!”

She could hear the smile in your voice.

“That’d only be the way she sees herself. What I think would be great for your story is to have her come to realize just how amazing of a person she is. Like how she’s sweet and imaginative. How she cares so much about the people around her. How adorable her smile is… Oh! Also how she can read a book and instantly find the most profound things in it! I think that’s a very important part to add in. Honestly, I think a girl like her would be just my type!”

She broke into a startled laugh.

“I think you have strange tastes.”

The darkness of her heart begged to refuse your words. It would be much easier to hide where no light could be seen. But somehow she couldn’t. Your kindness bloomed something beautiful within her chest. Though small, it couldn’t help but hope, no, believe your words could be true.

“I have a name for her too, you know.”

You were closer this time. Right behind her. When you took her hand, she finally looked at you. Some place inside her felt she should have felt surprised, but you were the same as always. Your eyes still brimmed with the warmth of the sun.

“And what is that?”

Then you smiled, that lovely smile of yours.

“Amy.”

[pffbts]

a goodbye letter.

hello everyone, it's been a long time, isn't it?

i haven't written anything in months and tbh even if i wanted to further give life to all my wips, i wish i had even a drop of motivation and energy to do so. some of you might have as well forgotten about my little blog, which had its own humble beginnings. and tbh i don't mind at all. it's been, i don't know almost 5+ years that i've had this blog. i started it out during the last two years of my high school, when i was struggling very much to cope with all the pressure and anxiety. this little corner of the internet became my comfort space. i could pour my heart out into snippets of letters and the love that i received from all of you who were there from the beginning only fueled my passion to write more and of course, helped me immensely in escaping the cruelty of my reality.

since then, i have graduated school. my reality is still harsh but i'm surviving. i have also graduated from my college with two degrees that i was doing simultaneously. currently, i'm preparing to sit down for my master's 1st-year exam coming months and job surfing at the same time. tbh i wish i had enough energy and positivity to motivate myself to pen down something. but it seems like we have to finally pull the curtains down on this blog.

yes, there is a lot of stuff that's still pending to be completed as you will know if you care to check my masterlist. but i'm not going to give you any false hope by saying that someday i will magically come back and finish and place them all in front of you. it would be too selfish of me to keep you on your toes like that.

i know i've let down a lot of you. many have told me me how much, especially my letters have helped you guys during hard times. even though i know i shouldn't even bother to think like this considering i know none of you in-person. still, it's the crippling humanity in me. honestly, i feel sad for myself. my life took so many things away from me. even the capacity to keep this comfort space alive for myself. some of you have left a long time ago. probably life has happened to you all too. i have also met some of you during the latter part of my journey here and i'm very glad that you all loved my work even with all my incompetency in keeping up with the schedules. you guys were too kind to me.

this actually came too suddenly - this realization that something needs to end. i don't think there will come any other time in the future when i'll read fanfics or write them myself. but it's a bit too much to delete the whole blog considering the reblogs will still exist in the tumblr algorithm. therefore, the letters will still be up along with the fics.

although i don't think i will stop writing. i have my substack where i will experiment with my creative writing but that's just my way of growing up as a writer. these days i'm too busy both in my head and physically, i wish i can overcome becoming a moss. my produce is sparse but my want is bigger than that. although for fanfics, there's no want anymore. i've had my fill and i'm sad to say, this is where we part.

pffbts is thus archived. all my posts will remain. if you send in any mundane sweet ask, i will answer them as soon as possible. kindly please don't send in any requests for fics (i've had to delete a couple of them from my ask box and it felt terrible.) i'm not completely going away. as a person, i will stay. it's just the fanfic writing part of me that will take a permanent leave. i'm almost 24 and it's been almost 10 years that i've started out in creating fanfics. i think it's enough, nah? plus writing this post for you all has strangely made me feel calm, as a certain baggage has been let down from my shoulders.

thank you to you all from the past & the present. i hope you all stay well and healthy. it has been truly a good time to have you all with me.

-K.

[8iunie]

Måneskin and Alessandro Michele, an exclusive and open interview (21.11.2022)

The Italian band and Gucci's Creative Director talk about the many things they have in common. While writer Chiara Tagliaferri listen…

Every time they meet, the first thing Alessandro Michele asks the members of Måneskin is always the same: “Are you tired?” In this small, caring gesture lies all the tenderness that flows between them, these people who follow each other around the world, one of them designing outfits for the bodies of the others which then blaze on stage, setting everything alight.

They have one thing in common: Creation is for them an act of rebellion. If we wanted to go back to the moment where the fuse first triggered the explosion, we would find ourselves in Rome, a city that produces wonder and glimmers of redemption in the midst of its chaos.

Alessandro: I don't want to make it a question of geography, but of energy and trajectories. [Rome] is a sort of no man’s land where dreams intersect with possibilities, creating a place of freedom. In Rome things happen because theyhad to happen—it’s nothing to do with money or business. It’s a city teeming with activity, a she-wolf with multiple teats that comes bearing strange opportunities [referring to Rome’s creation myth and the she-wolf that nursed Romulus and Remus]. We come from a city that was pagan before it became Christian, and I feel pagan. We [Romans] have a relationship with the flow of life that’s very intimate, pornographic. We are set alight in the moment when everything happens. Here, creativity is born and it proliferates in a deeply human dimension. 

Damiano: Rome also helps keep your feet on the ground: it doesn't matter where you have to go, it could take half an hour or a couple of hours—the Raccordo Anulare [Rome’s ring road] doesn't give a shit whether you’re in a Ferrari or a Panda. Compared to Rome, you’ll never count for anything; you’re a spectator living in the city. I see this with Giorgia, my girlfriend, who moved from Milan and doesn't understand. I always tell her: “You have to stop trying to control things and abandon your body to the river of Rome, go with the flow.” For the bartender below my apartment, I’m just the lad from the top floor, nice and polite—Damiano from Måneskin doesn't exist. The only rule that applies here is “I like you, or I dislike you”. This is a city that brings things together and irons out differences—everyone exercises the right to make their own judgment.

Victoria: My relationship with Rome has changed over the years, now it’s the city I love most in the world. I like its rawness. It brings you back to reality and since we’re immersed in ever more crazy experiences, that helps us a lot. Los Angeles, London, and New York are stimulating, but coming home allows me to go out into the world without losing myself. When I was a kid, I didn't like it so much: I grew up in Monteverde, which is a very quiet neighborhood, and I remember that when we started playing in the streets, in secondary school, everyone used to make fun of us—we were the weirdos, the ones who dressed like oddballs. If we’d been more fragile this would have stopped us; instead it triggered a sense of revenge in us, which spurred us on even more.

Thomas: I’m in love with [the neighborhood] Trastevere. During the pandemic I rented an Airbnb there, it was like living in a model town: 10,000 inhabitants who all know each other. People have real contact with you. 

Måneskin are waxing lyrical about Rome from Mexico City, where they have just held a rather epic concert. Alessandro Michele and I have got hold of them while we’re in this ancient city that sprinkles the dust of the gods on your shoulders. Victoria, Damiano, Ethan, and Thomas tell us about a boat trip with mariachi bands playing and locals cooking onboard to celebrate the Day of the Dead. As I watch them—bodies still heavy with sleep, curled up in the bright morning sun—I think that Liliana Segre [a 92-year-old Italian politician and Holocaust survivor] is right when she says that she loves their music even though, at times, she has to look up the lyrics because “just by looking at them, I forget to follow the words.” Måneskin has this effect: when you look at them, you’re enchanted. Alessandro Michele once said, “Before communicating with words, communicate the body.” Måneskin’s bodies tell the story of sexual freedom, partly thanks to the harmony of intention that, with Michele, they have forged as a group, stitching together a union of powerful textures that Gucci's creative director explains in this way:

Alessandro: I’m a real pyromaniac and when I get my hands on some fuel I go crazy with happiness. I was following them and I thought, “This has to happen,” because we were already having a dialogue without knowing it. When we finally met it was like when you have sex for the first time with the person you like and you say, “It was obvious that we were going to make love in an extraordinary way.” A project like that can only be realized if there’s real harmony: it's an incredible amount of work because they’re doing so much, but I recognize myself in this hyper-production because I hyper-produce too—so together we create what feels like a super-long rosary prayer in which we “recite” dresses, jackets, bustiers, bodices, and combinations that seem impossible. The kind of clothes that I like are those with bodies in them, and with Måneskin there’s a very precise ritual: the clothes become a bonfire, they are set alight, and turn to dust on stage. 

Damiano: We were already on the same path, but our meeting made everything easier right from the start. Every time, Alessandro conjures up magic. He enters deep into music and transforms it into that visual impact that helps us perform with our bodies, too.

Thomas: What I like most about working together is seeing so much professionalism combined with a very strong artistic side, which is by no means something I take for granted. We have a lot of fun, too. There’s a lot of laughter during the fittings. 

Alessandro: One thing that my way of working has in common with yours is that you set alight something that has already been and gone (fire is clearly the common element of today’s discussion). You’ve taken a genre that was tucked away in a cellar, labelled as old and obsolete, and you’ve brought it back into thenow, making it exist again. You’re a “has been” that has become contemporary, impossible to decipher. How would you describe your relationship with the past?

Damiano: What’s made the difference for us is that yes, we hooked up with something from the past, but we didn’t respect its canon. We just did stuff we like, expressing ourselves exactly as we were. People who call themselves rock purists don’t compete at Sanremo or Eurovision, but we don’t have any issues with that. Being popular isn’t a stain; it doesn't sully you. No one opens a restaurant thinking, “I don't care about filling up the room.” I want to see a line outside the door!

Victoria: When we write our music, we do what comes instinctively to us. Each of us brings our own feelings and inspirations. For instance, I grew up listening to David Bowie, Led Zeppelin, Blondie, and the Sex Pistols. So when we get together in the studio we’re a great mix of different worlds. Sometimes this ends up in a clash and makes the creative process more complicated, but ultimately the result is never a copy of something that already exists. We manage to find a new path—a way that is ours and ours alone. 

Thomas: It’s true, we mix up our tastes a lot and since we started out as a band we’ve evolved in the way we play. We've always gone for the rock approach on stage—the electricity we transmit comes naturally to us. Unlike you, Alessandro, I’m pretty nostalgic about the past: I grew up with my father who made me listen to the great rock bands, and so I've been eating up that attitude forever.

Ethan: I’d like to add that in my opinion time doesn't exist, it's a bit of an illusion. Somehow present, past, and future are the same thing—it’s just that we have the perception of moments that pass one after the other, so the past is the present we’ve already lived, and the future is the present that wewill live. It is like when we stand between two mirrors, one in front and one behind: it creates that infinite tunnel in which every movement is reflected in both the front mirror and the back mirror, uniting them. The difference between the past and the future is simply this: the past sees your back, while the future sees your face. You’re in between and you’re a combination of the two—and whatever action you perform happens either because you did something earlier or because of what you will do later.

Alessandro: Building on your mirror metaphor, think about if you turn your back on the future and look at the past, which then reflects what the future could be. I like your idea—the present is an exercise in perception, but maybe we decide the time, and you’ve kind of decided yours. What is your relationship with time? 

Victoria: It's a complicated relationship, mine. Basically, you want what you don’t have at any moment. Up until two years ago, when we were on tour I’d miss Rome, my family, and my friends—but when I’d come back, after a week I’d be fried, I’d feel disoriented. For a couple of years now we've been constantly on the road, and it's crazy but also dangerous, because the lack of time risks affecting the artistic side: It can happen that we find ourselves writing a song in five days and it ends up being really foolish—we should take all the time in the world for our music.

Damiano: If I could take a pill to catch up on moments I have missed, I’d take one to be with friends, family, my girlfriend. I’d like to live the kind of conviviality that I haven't allowed myself in the last few years because I've always told myself, “Goals before everything else.” I did it with sport and now I’m doing it with music. Now that I’m older and have a different relationship with my parents and my brother—much more equal—I’d like to enjoy them.

Ethan: I’d climb a mountain, look for a monastery, and find someone who can teach me everything I can’t grasp by myself. 

Thomas: The subject of time is one that makes me really suffer. The thing I miss most is having the time to grow as a musician, to bring everything I learn into our group. When a car is going so fast, it’s genuinely difficult to maintain a strong artistic component. That's why, even when I’m exhausted, I take the odd moment to just start playing [my guitar]. I don’t want to fall behind the dreams that I have for myself. 

Ethan: The feeling you just described is an obsession of mine, too—I call it “the paradox of the famous artist.” Before they find fame, the artist is a nobody and has all the time in the world to create. When their art becomes famous, so does the artist, but because of their new fame they no longer have time to make the art. It’s an inevitable trap.

Damiano: This is the disease that has afflicted music in recent years. We’ve become used to seeing artists constantly promoting their work. I’m blown away by Harry Styles’s workload, he probably hasn't had a day off in the last four years. Part of me says, “Wow, what willpower,” but I wonder if it's fair to get our audience used to this kind of consumption—you start to forget that we’re human. Overexposure and working too far beyond our physical capabilities is what has destroyed the careers of the best artists of recent generations. When you can no longer live your life because on the one hand you’re overwhelmed by responsibilities and on the other you’re eaten up with fear about disappearing (what happens if I say no to that interview, to the TV appearance, to the tour), you begin to suffocate. I’d like to avoid a second wave of musicians going crazy or dying bloated from medication. There are so many good artists, I’d like to keep them healthy for the next few years!

Alessandro: I was already grown up when I became known to the fashion public. I was almost 42, and I realized that you have to hold onto who you are and where you’re going: You have to love yourself a lot and you have to love what you do just as much. You also have to learn to say no a lot. We’re human beings who like to create worlds: You imagine sounds that don’t exist and put them together, I see things that others don't see. It’s a great gift to be able to share with others what we hear and the stories we want to tell. The things I do must feel right to me: as long as there’s a small part of you in the music you make, that sincerity will pay off. In my spare time, for example, I am practicing idleness. I’m still learning because the need to constantly invent things is ingrained in me. I’m experimenting in a non-philosophical but practical way—what happens if I find the space to say, “Let’s see if I can resist without doing anything”? In my life I’ve developed a Calvinist sense of guilt when it comes to not doing stuff, but idleness is creative. It’s a practice that helps develop the senses.

Compared to Alessandro Michele and the members of Måneskin, I’m a travel newbie: I write books and take planes and trains to accompany them around the world, but there’s no comparison to these guys’ rhythms and lives. And yet, going from place to place, sleeping in hotels is always a bit alienating for me, it makes me feel uncomfortable. So I often cling to smells: When I smell something that reminds me of home, I feel less lonely. And I’ve found that the same goes for Ethan.

Ethan: Smells are very interesting, often we don't realize but they’re portals to another time. For example, the other day I smelled a scent that I’d forgotten, and it physically took me back to a place I hadn't thought about for a long time. I’d lived in a camper van for a year, I didn't have much money at that time and my kitchen had a really specific smell. When I smelled it again, I thought fondly, “I’d forgotten that!”

Damiano: No smells for me, but lots of cat hair. My clothes are always covered in cat hair, every time I open my suitcase I remember the cats, so they’re the ones who are my temporal gateways: they bring me home. By the way, cats are professionals at practicing idleness.

Alessandro: It's true, animals are great masters of idleness. They live this cosmic wholeness that is beautiful. The now is a vast expanse for them while we are restless, worrying about a future ready to punish us for our choices. 

Thomas: I’ve given up with pets. When I was 11 years old, I got my beloved piranha. I loved him so much, he was with me for 10 glorious years, but then he died. I didn’t want to replace him with anything else, and every now and then I pay him a visit. I buried him in the courtyard of my [apartment] building, that way I always have him close by.

Alessandro: You’re like Peggy Guggenheim who wanted all her little dogs buried beside her. My partner and I have a ritual: Every time we go to Venice we go to them, we stop in front of the tombstone, and we read the names that by now I know by heart: Cappucino, Hong Kong, Gypsy, Baby. The relationship we have with these creatures is mysterious, almost shamanic. We look to them to address a need in ourselves. We like them because they allow us to rediscover an affectionate, intimate conversation that has been lost. But I have another question. You’ll have been asked it many times but I’d like to understand your relationship with Victoria—from the outside it seems that there’s a real empathy between you. 

Damiano: It's like with those huge families, with lots of brothers and sisters. After a while you forget your sister’s a woman!

Thomas: We spend so much time together that that thing is no longer there, that barrier that you usually feel between the sexes.

Damiano: Exactly, there's not the awkwardness of wanting to impress or the fear of looking like you're trying. By now we all know that none of us will ever hit on Vic, and Vic will never hit on us. We’re friends. She wants to get naked? Let her get naked! We all do what we want. After seven years we’re the same. 

Victoria: In our family I don't feel any kind of difference. I’m very free, and in general gender cannot and should never be a discriminating factor, but I think I’m lucky: I’ve never been treated differently because I’m female. That’s not always the case: There are many environments where the gender gap creates unacceptable inequality in the way you’re treated, you constantly feel sexualized, inspected, and treated like an object.

Ethan: I’d like to add that being born with a vagina or a penis does not make you a woman or a man. What interests me is the soul of a person, and that’s neither male nor female – it’s simply an energy. I listen to them talk and think of Rupert Brooke's poetry: “I shall desire and I shall find / The best of my desires.” They do not hesitate, getting lost in possibilities, they have a thirst that spurs them on while I’m always sure I’ll lose everything. I go to sleep even as the world sparkles. And then Thomas will tell you about the evening he spent at Madonna’s house…

Thomas: Vic goes out every night. I want to as well, but it's hard to keep up with her. A few days ago I met an Italian guy who lives in New York and he invited me to a party. So I went along while, for once, Vic went back to the hotel. I think it was the first time in two years that she did that. And what happened was that eventually I found myself sitting next to Madonna. I called her and said, “Vic, I'm at Madonna's house!” She was really annoyed. 

Victoria: It was terrible! Even when I’m completely spent, I always go out because I'm afraid of missing things, and actually I was right. The one time I chose to sleep, I missed a party at Madonna's house. That's proof that I have to go out more!

Alessandro: Do you have any day-to-day tasks that one of you always does? Is there something that one of you is particularly good at? For example, I’m the medicine guy at home. I know where everything is so my partner asks me if he ever needs anything. He could find and take it himself, but it's an act of caring that I like to perform for him.

Damiano: I can count on Thomas because he’s curious, he likes to get us into situations even ones he wouldn’t go near if he were alone. For example, he took me to some NBA games even though he’s not a basketball fan. Vic is the most organized in terms of schedule. She reminds us of our appointments, but then always arrives 15 minutes late herself! Ethan is the perfect spokesperson: He has platonic gifts and we can talk together for hours and hours.

Thomas and Victoria: Damiano is very pragmatic, no flights of fancy and he gets straight to the point—he’s a rock.

Alessandro: We could go on with this chat forever. I like you guys so much because you have a precious gift: You’re in touch with life. Maybe for you it’s an unconscious reflex, but when I meet you I feel an electric shock. You have a beautiful awareness, and that’s something that it’s crucial to take care of.

📸 HUGO COMTE

[the-scouts-codex]

Summary: “Yay I win!” Kalim cheered.  Jamil was confused. “Huh? That means you have to think of something…oh no.”  Kalim beamed even more. “Party at Scarabia!

Scout's Notes: Hello everyone. Guess what this is.( After months of this not being finished that it isn't even funny anymore) That's right, Part four, the final part of "Party at the Oasis" is finally here! This is Part four of my third work here on Tumblr, "Party at the Oasis!" The word count will be determined once the entire work has been completed. That being said, I have no clue on how many parts this will need. Also, that would mean that this work will not be on Ao3 until it's completed. Other than that, please enjoy Part four.

Part one, two, and three, are here.

TW: Slight mentions of Azul's past with bullying and anxiety. Nothing major or graphic.

Word count: 14135  (･o･) 

A well deserved rest was needed after their intense game. Whether it be on the sand, under the pavilions or in the water, they decided to just relax. Renmu decided to float around the Oasis in a donut. After that well deserved win, Renmu felt great. He was happy that he wasn’t dead weight to them or useless, He was happy about his win, he was happy to see all their smiling faces when it happened, he was happy that they all congratulated him and that no one was cross with him. It made him truly happy. That feeling was something he had long forgotten back in his own world, something he gave up on trying to feel. The feeling was strange to him yet so welcomed. That feeling of happiness was almost esoteric to Renmu. He never thought he would be able to feel like that one day. But now he could and he didn’t want it to go away. 

“A mark for your thoughts?”

Renmu blinked back into reality and noticed Jade circling around him; like a shark would when stalking its prey. Renmu again wondered how long his body actually was in its natural state. Sure the Tweels were 6 feet tall as humans but what about as mers? 

“Might I say, that was very nice save you pulled off earlier.” Jade said with a smile. “Your win was very much deserved.” 

Renmu smiled softly. “Oh…I-It was nothing really…” 

“You seem to be deep in thought. Perhaps, I can lend you an ear?” Jade offered.

Renmu sighed. He didn’t want to dampen the mood. Everyone was having fun and he didn’t want to start getting too sensitive about things when he was supposed to be happy. But, Renmu guessed talking it out to someone wouldn't hurt. “Just thinking of my life before all of this.” 

Jade stopped circling around the Prefect. “Oh, are you homesick?” 

Renmu shook his head. “Iya, Iya. It’s not like I miss it or anything…It’s that…I have this inapplicable feeling with home. I don’t know what to feel or think about that.” 

Jade nodded. “Then come with me for a moment.” 

Jade dove underwater and grabbed onto Renmu’s hand and maneuvered Renmu through the thick foliage until they were in a small cove in the Oasis. The vegetation made it hard to find and dark, but not too dark to the point you couldn’t see anything. The air around them was also  much cooler thanks to the dense greenery. 

“Azul, can you come out for a second?” Jade asked. 

Renmu didn’t realize that Azul was even in here. The water was too dark to see into for Renmu’s eyes and he couldn’t see where Azul was if he was somewhere on land. The water started to swish back and forth but Jade kept him still. Slowly, Azul’s head emerged from under the waves along with Floyd’s. Azul noticed Renmu and ducked back down. “Jade, I thought I told you to make sure no one followed you in here!” 

“I brought him here. I was hoping you could lend him an ear?” Jade asked. 

Azul could tell that Jade had no ill intent to shame him and that whatever the perfected needed it was something he only wanted them to hear. Azul slowly surfaced to face Renmu. It then occurred to Renmu that the water wasn’t actually dark from the overcrowded vegetation, no, It was because of Azul’s large appendages that sprawled out around him. Each tentacle was huge, not to mention the color of them added to the effect. One of the tentacles wrapped around Renmu’s arm. The feeling was perplexing to say the least. The grip was firm yet soft. Azul frowned and slapped the tentacle with his hand in an attempt for the tentacle to release the Prefect’s arm. The tentacle released its hold but there were now large round marks left on Renmu’s skin. 

Floyd laughed. “Shrimpy got octopus kisses.” 

“Sorry about that…” Azul mumbled. “I can’t always control them…”

Renmu smiled. “Daijoubu desu.”

“What did you two need?” Azul asked. 

“The perfect is feeling rather homesick.” Jade answered 

“Homesick?” Azul asked, confused. 

“It’s not exactly that, it’s…I feel like I should miss it but I don't…” Renmu trailed off.

“Why don’t you miss home?” Azul asked. “ I would imagine from your circumstance that you would.” 

Renmu sighed. “And that’s my problem. I don’t because back at home, I had nothing. I didn’t have friends to talk to, a family to go back home to, or anything to look forward to. So, I don’t exactly miss it but being here, happy, kinda makes me feel sad.”

Azul nodded. “I get that. There are some things about home I think a lot of us wish to forget but then run back to when things get tough. I would know. I have been back home a few times but sometimes, I rather stay up here.” 

“Azul doesn't like to transform back when we get in the water.” Floyd intoned. “It’s why he hates going back.”

Azul frowned. “I have my reasons.” 

“But you still miss doing it right?” Floyd asked. “Like now. You willingly changed back this time because you missed it.”

“Yes there Is nothing wrong with feeling good in your own skin, Azul” Jade said, chiming in.

“That’s easy for you two to say. You two didn’t…well, You two don’t really have a reason to dislike your own skin.” Azul argued. “But yes, I did feel a little “Homesick” if you will.” 

Renmu wanted to ask why Azul hated being in his true form. Renmu felt that he already knew the answer to that though. Renmu dealt with things like that before, in his own world. Yeah coming here he did get one or two altercations or just some haughty students trying to get a reaction out of him. But when it happened here, in this world, it felt different. He wasn’t all that bothered by it. Sure sometimes it did break through the walls he built up, leaving him to patch them back up and wait for the cement to dry, but they didn’t leave gaping holes and lasting marks like the ones back at home left. 

“So what exactly about home do you not miss?” Floyd asked. 

“The people, my school, my circumstances, many things.” Renmu said trailing off. “I’m an orphan so I don’t have a family to go back to. I dropped out at 15 and have worked in a graveyard since. And having a bright future never crossed my mind…” 

“Why’d ya drop out, Shrimpy?” Floyd pressed. 

Renmu didn’t answer. Jade and Azul shot Floyd an unimpressed look. Knowing Floyd, he has no boundaries. He asked questions that might not be asked. He has no filter or knows what’s appropriate or not. Maybe Floyd did know but if he did or didn’t, it didn’t matter to him in the slightest. 

“I was bullied so I just stopped going…” Renmu mumbled.

Their little cove became quiet. Renmu just looked up through the gap between the foliage, looking up and the smattering amount of blue that fought its right to to be seen. Renmu looked back to Azul who had a glint in his eyes that just said “I understand.”, “You don’t have to keep talking.” But Renmu wanted to. He wanted to keep letting all those past things go like the leaves in the wind, to let all the things that he bottled up finally dry up like this Oasis. He didn’t want to have a reason to keep refilling the hole inside him. He wanted it to close up and never open again. 

“Home reminds me of all the bad things.” Renmu mumbled. “Sure, there are some good things but all the bad things make me hate it. It makes me want to never turn back. It makes me-want to stay here. I want to start over here with you all at this school. You guys, make me happy and forget all those bad things. Yet, I feel guilty for not wanting home…” 

Floyd looked lost in the sauce at Renmu’s Soliloquy. Floyd didn’t do deep feelings and heartfelt words. Jade and Azul understood though, especially Azul. He understood that pain. That want, that need, that desire to start all over with new faces that didn’t know of your past, so that they could never bring your past back up to haunt you, to hurt you, to use you. It’s what he’s been doing up here, starting anew to better himself and become someone new. Someone that didn’t get made fun of as a kid for being different and for being sensitive. 

Azul never took Renmu to be the one to want to start over. He thought of him as he thought of Floyd and some others sometimes. Reckless and clueless. Someone that hid behind many masks like Cater, Someone that shut themselves out like Idia. Not once did he think of Renmu like himself. Azul, the boy that was bullied and bottled all his pain to the point it broke him. The boy who wanted to erase the past rather than face it. To pretend it never existed. But that just does more harm than good. 

“I shared too much, didn’t I?” Renmu finally asked. 

“Not at all.” came Jade’s reply. “I feel like you opened some of our eyes.” 

Azul knew Jade was referring to him. He wouldn’t lie, the Prefect did open his eyes a bit. He now saw the Ramshackle Prefect as someone he mirrored greatly. He saw himself through someone else's eyes almost. It made him start to think of his own past differently. It made him want to get to know the Prefect a bit more.

“I’m hungry. Ima go back to eat half the table.” Floyd whined, as he dove into the water with a quiet “plip”.

Jade chuckled. “Oh my, I better go with him before there's none left for us.” Jade dove into the dark water to catch up to his Twin. Azul and Renmu were left behind in silence. 

“Renmu,” Azul finally spoke. “How do you forget about the bad things about yourself?” 

Renmu was taken back by Azul’s question for a moment but answered none the less. “You don’t. They are part of you and you learn to love them. Though, I’m not sure if i’m the one to talk…”

Azul didn’t answer. He looked down at the many appendages that sprouted from his body like wild wisteria. He couldn’t find any reason to love all eight of those things. Not when all he thought of all the bad things that those kids said about them when he was younger. Those words were branded into his mind, whenever he saw them, those words surfaced and made him scowl at his own body.

Renmu knew that look in Azul’s eyes. Pure disgust, resentment, hatred. He knew that look too well, especially back at home. They would always look at him like that when he was around. He never wanted to see people look at him like that anymore. 

“Azul-Senpai, I can't speak on behalf of everyone else, the people that harmed you but, I like you just the way you are. Just like this.” Renmu said, gesturing to Azul’s octopus form. “It makes you, you.” 

Azul unconsciously pulled Renmu into his tentacles. Renmu allowed himself to be held in the giant squishy appendages like it was a giant hug. Azul sighed at the sight. Renmu smiled. “Daijoubu desu, Azul-Senpai. It’s like a giant hug.” 

Azul smiled softly. “Would you believe me if I told you that I used to be a lot bigger and a crybaby? That I wasn’t as strong as I am now? That forced myself to change to save myself from all the hurt?”

Renmu nodded. “Would you believe me if I told you that I forced myself to speak in a different way to avoid getting hurt?” 

Azul was curious now. “I believe you but how so, Prefect.” 

“I altered the pitch of my voice as a kid so that the other kids would make fun of me anymore.” Renmu explained. 

“Then how does it normally sound?” Azul inquired. 

“Like this.” Renmu said, his voice dropping an octave. 

Azul was surprised. The prefect’s natural voice sounded very similar to Idia’s versus the higher pitch that he forced. Azul wondered how he was able to even do that, let alone keep it up for so long without failing. 

“I got used to it after a while.” Renmu explained. “ They said my voice didn’t match the way I looked, the way I acted. So I fixed it. But that only made it worse…”

Azul’s appendage finally let go of the prefect. Slowly, the tentacle unraveled itself from around Renmu’s body and dipped back into the water. Azul watched each appendage move around underneath him. Each one did their own thing sometimes it it annoyed him greatly. Then again, part of him didn’t actually detest it. He was happy when he was back home with his mom and grandmother like this. It was just like them. They were the only ones that understood how it felt. He liked the idea of being stronger than the twins like this, he liked the idea of being bigger than them for a change. He had the best advantage in the water and the twins never forgot that. It made him swell with pride at those things. Maybe all Azul ever needed was someone like Renmu to actually help learn to love himself growing up, someone who accepted him for him. Not for his knowledge or for his contracts and schemes. But actually for who he truly was, a sensitive octo-mer that just wanted friends and someone that would love him and all of his eight appendages. And maybe that’s what the Prefect needed too. Someone who would accept him for his scars, his voice, his need to just have one friend to see the world as a bright place. 

“AZUL! C’MON!” Floyd called out. His beckoning voice echoed through the oasis.

“I guess we should meet up with the others now…” Azul mumbled. 

“Yeah before all the food is really eaten.” Renmu siad with a chuckle. 

Renmu shimmed his body through the donut hole and began propelling himself through the vegetation. Azul simply dove under it all and swam through to the other side. Azul surfaced and helped pull Renmu through rest and back to the shoreline of the Oasis. Renmu was the first to step foot on the sand. He dropped his donut floatie oof with the rest of them. Azul then surfaced, not as a human but as a mer. His tentacles slithered and wriggled around as he moved forward. The others watched in fascination as Azul began to slowly change fully into a human once more. The purple hue of his skin slowly faded into flesh tones, his eight appendages merged into one another in a pair of four and began turning into two human legs and feet. His size and form also slowly reduced in size and shaped into one of a human. By the time he reached the pavilion, he was human. 

“Eh, Cool.” Floyd said with a smile. 

“Indeed.” Jade commented in agreement. 

“That was like something in an Anime…” Idia mumbled softly.

Azul felt awkward from all the staring and comments. For once, he knew there was no ill intent with them. Just curiosity and amazement. Not even Leona or Jamil said anything ill about the way his body looked changing into a human. Maybe this could be a start for him with being more open about who he truly was. 

Azul cleared his throat awkwardly. “So…I’m hoping there is some food left for me?”

The cold desert night was drawing near. The sun was setting, leaving behind a deep orange and golden glow. The Oasis was calm and the heat of the sun began to wane. Everyone decided to enjoy the peace and quiet of the desert around a crackling bonfire. Leona and Ruggie provided an array of meat that could be cooked over the open flame while Trey provided marshmallows and other sweet treats. Healthier options like vegetables and fruit were also being cooked over the fire. 

Renmu watched the little embers float away into the evening sky as he roasted a marshmallow on the open flame. He thought of the summer festivals back at home that he often watched from afar. He always wondered what it was like, being able to hang out with friends around a bonfire; dancing, playing, laughing. Renmu was far too lost in thought to realize that the once soft treat was now charred and crispy. 

“Dear boy, your treat is as crispy as my hair the day Malleus first drew fire breath.” Lilia said amused. 

Renmu looked down at his stick which was now also flaming like a torch. Renmu sighed and tossed the whole thing into the fire. Renmu picked up a new stick and marshmallow and tried again. 

“What's the matter, Prefect?” Silver asked. “Is it because you burnt your treat?” 

Renmu shook his head. “Just thinking is all…” 

“About?” Silver asked again? 

Now everyone had Renmu’s attention. They all wanted to know what got the once happy Prefect so down in the slumps in the matter of hours. Renmu groaned dramatically and flopped backwards onto the sand below. “Mou! I don’t want the day to end!” 

Everyone went silent before letting out a genuine laugh. Renmu was confused as to why most of them started laughing.

“Is that all?” Riddle asked, holding back his smile. 

“And here I thought it was something serious.” Cater said smiling. 

“Renmu, you know we will have more opportunities like this in the future, right?” Kalim asked. 

“Yeah,” Leona answered in agreement. “Especially since the Headmage wants us to do the whole “Bonding” thing.”

“I already know what I actually want all of us to do when it’s my turn.” Vil said happily. 

“Oh no.” Leona groaned. “Make that Primadona go last! I know he will make us dress up or act.” 

“Yeah.” Idia mumbled. “Make us do extroverted things.” 

“Like you would even suggest anything fun?” Azul asked. 

Idia sprang up from his spot on the sand. “Uh, yeah? Mega game night?” 

“Sounds boring.” Ruggie mumbled  

“Sounds fun.” Lilia chirped. 

“Of course that ol’ bat would think that’s something fun.” Leona growled. 

“Oh? And what would you do, Leona?” Riddle asked.

“Simple. Pool party or a spelldrive game.” Leona answered as he took a bite out of his charred meat. 

“That sounds fun!” Kalim said beaming. 

They went back and forth on what they thought was an idea of a good time together. Renmu realized that he was thinking of sad things when the fun, the games, the laughs, the memories were just getting started. Soon he would have many things to look back on and maybe friends that would want to keep wanting to make more memories like that. Renmu couldn’t help but smile. 

“Ah, you’re smiling again.” Lilia said, ruffling Renmu’s hair. “Look forward to tomorrow, dear child.” 

Renmu nodded and went back to perfecting his marshmallow. 

“Oh. I totally forgot about the sparklers!” Cater yelled, scrambling up to retrieve the bag.

“Ooh sparklers!” Kalim and Floyd cheered. 

“Kalim wait!” Jamil yelled running after him. 

Everyone else began clearing a space for Cater to put down the big bag of sparklers. Once the bag was within arms reach, Kalim, Floyd, Ruggie, and Lilia went ham on the bag. Everyone else waited their turn to get one and lit them by the fire. Renmu took two of them and began running around the bonfire like a little airplane. 

Leona watched in amusement. “Look at the Herbivor.” 

The others watched fondly at the Ramshackle Prefect run around the bonfire, a big happy smile plastered on his face, a face that normally would be void of any smile. For once, Renmu was finally feeling the weight of his past life, his past memories, his past feelings, being lifted off his shoulders. He could finally feel what it is like to be happy, to have friends, to make good memories. He could finally smile with all his heart.

“Looks fun!” Kalim cheered, running after Renmu. 

“Oh I want to run too!” Lilia chimed in standing up. 

The three of them left trials of sparking lights behind them as they ran around the bonfire. Their colored lights looked like shooting stars in the night sky. To the Heartslabyul trio, they looked like they were trying to get dry after coming out of the ocean. They three tired out after a few more laps and laid panting on the cool sand. 

Cater chuckled at the three. “Let's get this party started!” 

Cater turned up his speaker and began playing some music. Cater placed his phone down and started dancing around the bright fiery flames. 

“Leave it to Cater to bring the music.” Trey said smiling.

Leona and Jamil didn’t need to be told twice it seemed. Leona had lit two stakes on fire and started a fire dance. He was spinning the flaming stakes around, occasionally spinning and tossing them in the air. Jamil on the other hand kept the two sparklers and was break dancing on the sand. With each movement, the colored sparks dance with him. The sight was captivating. The glow of the warm flames against their skin made them look so elegant yet fierce. 

“Don’t burn yourselves please.” Riddle begged. “I don’t want to administer first aid for 3rd degree burns.” 

“We ain’t that clumsy, Red.” Leona argued as he tossed the two takes in the air and caught them with ease. 

Renmu watched all of them before him. He watched Leona and Jamil dance without a care in the world. He watched Kalim, Lilia, and Floyd have a sparkler battle, he watched Riddle scold Floyd that were being reckless, he watched Rook and Vil lie together under the setting sun, Cater taking selfies and photos of it all, Trey and Malleus talking about making their sparklers change color, Idia and Azul enjoying one blue sparkler together, Ruggie stuff his cheeks with food, Jade watch his brother in amusement, and Silver falling asleep. It was these moments that Renmu loved and cherished dearly. He loved every bit, every second of it all. This, this what it feels like to be happy. To have friends and to make memories. 

“C’mon, Renmu!” Cater yelled. “Let’s take a picture before we go!” 

Renmu nodded and ran over to their group and found a spot in the camera. 

“Everyone ready?” Cater asked. 

There was a chorus of yeses, yups, and, yeahs, confirming that everyone was good to go.

“Alright,” Cater said, holding up the camera more. “Say-”

“Party at the Oasis!” Kalin cried out. 

Everyone took a deep breath and yelled, “Party at the Oasis!”

Can't believe this took me so long. 14135 words in all too. Thanks for reading and see you next time!

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