#line weight variation my beloved

[lesbianvamp1reeee]

ive been sketching again today, im enjoying using chisel pens

also messily drew out the cover for the first comic yippee

[thedevotionaltour]

Most ego stroking thing to ever happen to me is multiple people in my life telling me viewing my art has helped them explore and experiment with their own lining styles and trying to create more variation and weight and shadows through their line art and it's made them feel like their art has improved through it

[snarky-art]

barfs out a post-recovery Daphne in Nymphix on accident

After a lot of thought I think I’ve settled on how I want her to interact with magic going forward post-resurrection after healing

Info on that and the symbolism in her outfit changes below!

The Dragon Flame in my redo is not a sole power source for a being. It instead acts as an enhancer that adds a huge power boost and integrates with the beings already existing magic.

Daphne is a pure fire elemental in terms of her magic classification.

At this point, while not the holder of The Flame anymore, she is still an incredibly powerful magic user who retains her Nymphix transformation as well as all the others she gained in her lifetime and could still easily hand Bloom’s ass to her if Bloom wasn’t utilizing The Dragon Flame. Even then, there’s still a chance Daphne would beat her if that was utilized because Daphne is a much better combatant than Bloom. She was trained formally for pretty much her whole life and is an excellent strategist. Bloom has rough and tumbled it for pretty much her whole life and had to try and brute force her way with her magic. She’s getting proper training specialized specifically for The Dragon Flame now but she’s got a long was to go to catch up to her big sister, much to Daphne’s delight whenever they have sparring matches. It’s a proper way to make up for all the teasing she never got to exert on her while she was dead and separated. They’re forming a proper sibling relationship now with petty squabbles and ample jabs included lol

In this post, I explained in more depth about how The Great Dragon works.

Bloom gives full consent to Daphne utilizing The Flame and calling upon The Great Dragon whenever she wants, and The Great Dragon still resonates with her beautifully. Daphne doesn’t want to be it’s keeper again, the responsibility and weight of it all and the context of what that means for her within the history of The Magical World and The Fall of Domino, is kind of messy in her mind to say the least. It’s stressful. But The Great Dragon still feels like a friend, something familiar that as she’s had more time away to grow as an individual, sort out all her complicated feelings and heal, she’s content to visit with in a way, and if that way is sometimes in combat when something needs a proper beat down, then so be it.

Outfit info!

Her new fit covers her body more (safer in her mind, a little less flashy to match her slightly more subdued general attitude post resurrection too. Her skirt having less of a flare and being more closed in is also a reference to this) and has way less metal (she was adorned with it constantly pre death as it’s such an important representation of royalty and The Great Dragon itself) and incorporates more blue (she is no longer defined solely by her tie to The Flame and her power with it. Purple gems are solely for those who are the supreme ruler and holder of The Dragon Flame whereas cyan is a color of royalty and high ranking officials who act directly for the royalty. She has a much better mix now).

Her headpiece is a variation of the one made for the crown princess and next in line to the throne, seen in this one portrait of her, and shows her comfort asserting that authority and title for herself now with it being tied to her relation and love for her family as opposed to, once again, The Great Dragon itself.

Also, short hair after trauma, my beloveds

Less stimulation for her.

Hair tickling her can drive her nuts still. It was awful when she was first recovering and it’s a thing that still irks her even now more than it used to, so having more out of her face and less chances to rustle against her makes her happy.

Stimulation is part of the reason less metal is incorporated here too.

Temperature fluctuation is something she’s more sensitive to now and it was VERY triggering for her when she first started recovering.

It reminded her of much it burned during the fall and how much it hurt when it got colder as she died. It turned so quick.

The cold from it makes her think of the piercing cold that Domino was, buried in ruble and ice, the ruins of genocide quite literally frozen in time.

She’s separated those feelings more as she’s gone through therapy and healed more but it can still be unsettling and she does have trouble with those thoughts creeping up on her at times.

She feels less chained down too literally now with the heavy emphasis of gold that exists in my lore for Dominion symbolism, mentioned in this post.

Anyway, I love her and she’s getting happier and it’s what she deserves:)

[searchingforserendipity25]

A Grief Most Favoured | The Untamed

searchingforserendipity

The Lan were ever unhappy in love; but the ones they cherished suffered the most. Lan Wangji had always known this very clearly, as immutable a law of the world as any of the rules etched upon the Wall of Discipline.

There is no scroll, no carved table to write down the list of names. Living memory alone had always been enough: the story repeated itself without failure.

The Lan were ever unhappy in love; but the ones they cherished suffered the most. Lan Wangji had always known this very clearly, as immutable a law of the world as any of the rules etched upon the Wall of Discipline. Its shadow was greater than the shadow of the mountains, for it fell upon the entry path to the Clouds Recesses and over every far house inside it. Even upon the quarters of the guest disciple; even upon the immaculate white walls of the Jingshi.

Wei Wuxian, marvellous and terrible and only more so for having his hair sleek and loose over Lan Wangji's plain bed linens, says, "I do not believe in unbreakable curses. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! Do not tell me you wise Lan are secretly superstitious old grannies. There is no cultivation big enough to last that long unless you keep a physical amulet for the curse to be attached to. And how could Tacher Lan leave such an artefact out of his inventories? I do not believe it."

Lan Wangji hears him and thinks, Is not my heart proof enough? It feels like a heavy stone often enough, a tablet of jade carved inside his chest. If there is any curse-bearing artefact carried by his line, surely it was stored there. Perhaps it was so, for all his kin; it is not a thing the Lan spoke of.

Superstitious, perhaps. But it is not wise to speak of either love or anger, in the Cloud Recesses.

Even now, with Wei Wuxian moving quicksilver-like behind Mo Xuanyu's eyes. The frisson of his attention, unmistakable and inimitable, pressing cloyingly upon him. Even that was not enough. Lan Wangji is aware of him constantly, be he so near as to touch the blunt edge of his fingertips or far away in his travels, with one letters to go between them, the smell of the road and dry leaves and Wei Wuxian's own unsettling smell like pressed to the paper when Lan Wangji brought it to his nose. He is aware of him - with ruinous fear, ruinous love. But that had been so, even when Wei Wuxian was dead. 

So it went. A Lan fell in love: the beloved perished, or sickened, or maddened, or was lost to misfortune. To an unwanted marriage, or the road, or a house surrounded by blue gentians. The distinctions did not matter. The beginning did not matter, so long as the song ended on the same note without variation.

Lan Wangji had been so angry with love. For the interminable scope of the years Wei Ying spent as unburied bone and unmourned memory, and before that, as well. He is very angry still. Learning, carefully, how to live with anger again, now that the geography of its old familiarity has shifted: how to live in a life with Wei Ying in it, riding a gentle donkey through the world that killed him once and would do so again if given the chance.

"Lan Zhan", Wei Wuxian says, shatteringly quiet now, gracing the curl of intimacy behind Lan Wangi's ears with his palms. His mouth curls, unhappy with itself, striving always for happiness even when his own chest aches painfully enough for it to ring in the small space between them. "Ah, Lan Zhan. Do I hurt you so badly?"

Lan Wanji covers his hand with his own broader one. He no longer needs to look to know every new line of sinew and bone. The body of his beloved, given in death as a gift meant for death-making, was as known to him as once the Jiang Sect's first disciple had been, as a weight sitting beside hin in study or a dangerous partner dancing in battle. Lan Wangji had known him chastely then, at a distance; every memory of touch had been hoarded through the years. To think on the chances lost -

"Wei Ying never hurts," he says, tangling their fingers fiercely together.

It is not true, of course. It is not even what he wishes to say. What he means is: the ache is very sweet, better than all the sweetness in the world. More precious than salt and iron - gold, ivory, glory and renown. Love grows upon the Lan swiftly like a flash fire sweeping down the mountainsides and as destructive. They feel so strongly; they hurt so keenly.

That, more than anything, is perhaps the curse itself. Not so much an inheritance of blood and cultivation, as the old, old habit of silence, all the forces it contains only ever given over to one splendid adoration.

Lan Wangji would choose to know him under any guise, in any lifetime. If there is anything in him that makes devotion spring steadfast and world-tilting in him, it is not something he can regret for all the grief in the world.

 Wei Wuxian must understand it. He kisses him exactly as if he understands it.

This is certainly the truest joy any Lan has ever known. The Lan of generations to follow should know the tragedy can be redeemed. That any curse, true or true only for being believed, can be sundered as a shadow shaken off from the sun-warmed shoulders of the world. That the loving must be lived through to its dire end, and beyond.

Lan Wangji will make certain of it; Lan Wangji will write a dozen new songs about it, warning, teaching, gloating, My beloved came back from the darkness and I knew him in the dark, in a stranger, in disguise, in madness, in sorrow, in justice. In every parting and returning my beloved knows me: my beloved came back. 

[welcometololaland]

Hellooooooooo 🥰 5, 10, 24, 34 for the fic writer asks please and thank you

SDKJFH dearly beloved thank you for this ask! I will gladly re-organise your dry goods for this * prayer hands *

5. What techniques do you use to create believable dialogue?

Much like one of my answers below, I'm not really sure. I guess I try and imagine characters talking to each other in my head as if it's a TV show or a movie. I try to picture the way the character's/actor's face would look as they say a particular line. I love GIFs for this reason (shout out all GIF makers you are the MVPs) because they allow me to study a character/actor and their micro-expressions OVER AND OVER. I pick up a lot from that.

I also catch myself making the faces that I think the character/actor would make if I sort of mouth the words in the dialogue that I want to use, which is ridiculous, but it WORKS! I'm like no hold on, the character should be frowning when they say that, and what particular thing would their face do if they 'frowned'? and then you can get more specific.

ALSO this is insane but I have a list on my phone of strange conversations I overhear in my day to day life and a lot of them (variations of them) go in fics haha.

24. What advice would you give to someone who wants to start writing fanfiction?

A few things (please, anyone else feel free to jump in with ideas!):

If you have an idea, just start. Practice makes perfect. Your first thing is probably not going to be your best thing, but my god it will feel good when you finish it! Plus, you can only get better!

Try to involve yourself in community. If you have a good cheerleader/cheerleaders, people to bounce ideas off etc. your life will be so much easier. It's not necessary, but I recommend it. Also, remember this goes both ways, so if you're lucky, you'll also get to be involved in someone else's process and help them succeed :)

If possible, find yourself a beta. Learn how to work with beta readers. Every single one of them works differently, but all of them are worth their weight in gold.

Don't be discouraged by numbers. Kudos, comments, hits are great, but they don't dictate the quality of a story.

KEEP READING. The more you read and the broader you read, the more places you have to find inspiration or motivation.

Re-engage with the source material. It will give you a different perspective and a better understanding of the characters.

#10 and #34 are answered below! Sorry for the ramble!

Send me an ask to distract me from airport boredom!

[rimouskis]

I keep telling myself to stop writing confessionals on the blog—I find venting to the anonymous internet to just be a questionable coping mechanism, and one that's not rewarded me a lot in the past—but I'm just so deeply weighed down at the moment with limited ways to offload that weight offline.

I'm so, so frustrated professionally. I dislike showing up to work most days. the work is tolerable. my pay is okay. I'm so confident I've outgrown it. there is no way up for me there, there is no advancement, there are no more skills to be gained, only restrictions to be enforced as the superstructure continues its ruthless crackdown on variation across the [redacted] in the name of organizational equity. I simply cannot grow skills I want to grow there anymore. my beloved manager is gone. my best friends there have left. it's done.

I have to accept that all the jobs I applied to over the summer didn't want me. I'm not hurt over it (even though I'd have the right to be, as I listed a very personal, complicated project on my resume in the hope it would make me stand out) but I am beaten-down. every time I scroll job boards I'm just faced with the reality that there are so many jobs that sound like hell to me, and there are a much smaller amount of jobs I think I could live with... that I'm not qualified for. I simply don't have the professional background for these jobs, though I know I'm smart and resourceful and could do good work if I was trained.

what's been weighing on me is just... having seen my siblings line up their careers very neatly as they exited university, it's very obvious to me that my multi-year breakdown in college has had long-lasting effects on my life. though I walked out of college with the highest GPA out of my siblings, I also walked out with the least connections, the least work experience, the least amount of direction.

I don't envy them, because they're doing wildly different things than me, and I also love them more than just about anyone else, but it makes me grieve so hard over what I went through and what I "lost" that I might have had. university was the darkest point of my life. I still get so ashamed over the fact that I walked out of that place with no friends and no connections. I should just be grateful I survived, and "thrived" academically, but every time I sit down to do a job application I have to contend with the reality that I had no internships, no jobs, no references, because I was trying so hard to stay afloat. I didn't set myself up for success at all (besides surviving, which is important but feels minimal in hindsight), and now gaining experience in anything is so much harder.

my lack of direction in college was enabled by my privilege but also by how good I was at masking what I went through, and I know I should be grateful I just made it out, but I feel like I chopped off a mental limb during it. I feel so set back, so permanently delayed in my professional life. I have no experience in most any of the things I think I'd be good at, and I have no references to float me into jobs on my chutzpah alone.

there's plenty to be grateful for—I have it good, I live within my means, my work environment isn't toxic—but I've always been driven by a need to be exceptional. I know I'm capable of so much and I don't know how to get there. I want more than my survival needs met... I want to thrive. I love achieving things.

this has been made worse, I think, by how small my life is these days. I'm mortified when I call home and all I can talk to my parents about is work and my 3 weekly runs. I don't do anything else, and I know I should. I should join a fucking bowling team or try harder to make friends (even though I've always been sort of ... deeply monogamous with my in-person friendships), but the pandemic has put a damper on things... and my best friend, who was a large part of the reason I was able to move here, has been pulling away in preparation of getting engaged to her boyfriend sometime next year. the future approaches.

hell, even if my closest friend was able to hang out with me more, or if I had a club sport to join, I don't know that I'd have the time because I want to come home, I want to write, I want to tend to online friendships.

on that front, I've been dealing with a nasty case of writer's block for several weeks, so what would ideally be a haven from ~professional angst~ has become instead just another source of stress.

the unifying problem here is my own expectations for myself, which are sky-high and seemingly designed for failure. you'd think self-awareness about this would bring some peace; I regret to inform you that I suffer from But I Can Do It Anyways syndrome.

I hate my lack of direction. I hate feeling underutilized. I sort of hate that I expect professional rigor to fix that feeling in me. I hate that money is a motivating factor for me. I hate that I can't afford to travel places in the world. I hate that I can afford small niceties but have no shot at bigger ones. I hate that I don't have anything in my personal life to strive for except running right now. I definitely hate that I cried at work about this today, and I cried while writing most of this. I'm so often captured by the idea that I could be doing something so much more, that there's a more realized version of myself that I'm being kept from, and I haven't figured out how to get to her yet.

it'll work out. in the meantime, though, I'm pretty fuckin' sick of my own angst 😂I'm fine, I always have been, but that suspicion that there's something more out there ... it festers. it'll be better come morning.

[engekihaikyuu]

Hyper Projection Engeki Haikyuu - The View from the Top 2

What’s In Tokyo Interview Translation with Daigo Kotarou, Akana Ryuunosuke, and Kiyama Ryuu

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“The View from the Top 2” will be the closing chapter in Engeki Haikyuu’s five-and-a-half-year history. As the performance draws nearer and nearer, what is your current state of mind?   Daigo: Since this will be the final production for Engeki Haikyuu, we’re definitely more enthusiastic than usual, and I’m so excited I’m thinking, “Can we get started already?”   Akana: We’re working very hard at rehearsals and really putting everyone’s strengths together to show people this incredible climax for Engeki Haikyuu. We want to deliver the best show we can. Ryuu: I haven’t been back since “Fly High,” when I made my appearance as a representative at the national youth training camp. This will be the first show to feature Kamomedai High School and the first to feature a match of ours. When I think that this will also be the last time, I get a little sad. I don’t want to have any regrets, so right now I’m just exhausting myself giving it my all everyday at rehearsals.

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Full interview and more photos under the Read More! Please do not repost my translations

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Daigo: Ryuu-kun hasn’t been with us for about a year and a half, but just like the last time we were in a show together, he is a kind senpai who looks after me and speaks to me very candidly. When I mess around and drop honorifics like, “Hey, Ryuu!” he’ll just mess around right back and say, “I’m your senpai, you know!” (laughs)   Ryuu: It’s already a running gag now. (laughs)  

Daigo: Ryuu-kun has always had such a welcoming aura ever since we first met, so it doesn’t really feel like there’s any distance between us. I can ask him for advice about anything. But this time we have the Kamomedai High cast in addition to Ryuu-kun, and so I keep carefully probing around to see when it might be good to talk to them (wry smile). But Ryuu-kun always bridges the gap, and I’m very grateful for how attentive he is. Also, Ryuu-kun's movements and dancing are really clean and precise. I kind of want to mimic him, so I’ve actually been observing him in secret for research. He hides such amazing potential! I’m talking about all this because this is an interview... but I don’t actually want to admit all this. (laughs) Ryuu: Kota doesn’t praise me like this at rehearsals so I’m really happy to hear that! Man, interviews are great. (big grin) Everyone: (laughs)

Since starting rehearsals, what’s the teamwork on Kamomedai been like? Ryuu: We haven’t yet managed to gather everyone in the cast yet. But when it comes to the cast members who are at rehearsals right now, we’ve been trying to define our individual roles little by little, and gradually in response we’ve been getting more coordinated as a team.  

Kiyama-san, do you have a specific image in mind of what kind of team you want to create? Ryuu: I talked about it with our director, Worry Kinoshita-san, and with the elements we aim to show on-stage, we'll be a team that’s a sort of hybrid between Shiratorizawa and Aoba Johsai. This the Spring High National Tournament quarterfinals, and we’re the powerhouse team that stands in Karasuno’s way. So the image we’re aiming for is, “When they’re strong, they’re strong, and when they’re excellent, they’re excellent.” And I want to really get into that aspect.  

From your previous experience, do you have any particular advice for your teammates?   Ryuu: The parts that you create as a team make up a huge portion of Engeki Haikyuu, and the way we craft this play is very different from other plays. At the very beginning, I did tell them, “It’s going to be tough, but it’s important that you get used to the Engeki Haikyuu method first. Let’s work hard!”  

Daigo-san, Akana-san, this will be your 4th time with this production, so how has the Karasuno Team powered up compared to before? Akana: We’ve become a really solid unit! Things like, “Right now, we should have this,” or “Now is the time when we have to do that.” Any one of us can just give a little comment like that, or judge the atmosphere, and we get to work. We don’t even have to talk, we’ve gotten to a point of incredible mutual understanding.   Daigo: We’ve spent so much time together, so now we don’t even have to talk to be in unison on counts or with timing, so rehearsals proceed really smoothly. Of course we discuss the acting portions with Worry-san, and I hope that we can have a nice friendly rivalry with everyone on Kamomedai as we work to create this play.  

I feel like this will unfold into a really speedy match that keeps us on the edges of our seats, but how are you personally thinking of crafting all this? Daigo: Rather than a series of scenes with really hectic matches, we want to draw focus to individual emotional moments... In particular with Karasuno Ace, Azumane-san, but each individual player’s emotional journey too, and Hinata and Hoshiumi’s “Battle of the little giants.” We’re going to show our relationships with all of our past rivals even more we did before. It’s going to be a little bit different from how we’ve presented things up to now where it’s felt like a festival no matter where you look around on-stage. We’re paying more attention to the drama of it, and I feel like this is turning into a production with an appropriately dramatic ending.   Akana: From last spring’s “The Strongest Challengers,” we’ve been steadily progressing with all of the Spring High matches. Even if it’s a really tough match, in their hearts, the players are having fun just playing volleyball. That’s the image we’ve portrayed, and for those of us on that stage, we’re also feeling the exact same and having fun. So I just want to look the Kamomedai cast in the eye and together enjoy the fun of volleyball.

What about you, Kiyama-san? Ryuu: As a team, we’re being very conscious of becoming one cohesive unit, and for me as Hoshiumi Kourai, I’m thinking about how much influence Hinata and Kageyama will have on me and how best to show that. I also personally want to be able to push Nosuke and Kota with my acting. As an actor, the biggest aim is to master the role and see how much you can move people’s emotions, and this is of course essential for Engeki Haikyuu as well. So that’s what I really want to focus on.  

Now I know that Engeki Haikyuu rehearsals can be particularly rigorous, but do you also add on additional voluntary practices and training? Daigo: I do 100 shuttle runs every time we finish rehearsals. I sweat it out, go home, eat, take a bath, prep for the next day, and then go straight to sleep! It’s basically exactly the life of an athlete on a team. (laughs) Akana: Everyday after we finish rehearsals, I go with Yamamoto Ryousuke (Tsukishima Kei’s actor) for extra weight training. Normally I do a bit of weight training on my own even during rehearsals, but in order to make my body even bigger than before, I haven’t skipped a single session. I’ve also been very conscious about my protein and carb intake.   Daigo: It’s crazy how much he can eat. On Nosuke’s desk at rehearsals, there’s basically a mountain of rice balls.   Akana: Yeah. Even if I feel like I’m gonna throw up, I make sure to eat every bite. (laughs) Ryuu: After “Fly High,” I actually started training with a parkour instructor in order to prepare for our match against Karasuno. Akana: Ehh?! That’s insane! Daigo: That’s why all your movements are so clean!!   Ryuu: Parkour is a sport where you eliminate all unnecessary movements, so adding my parkour training, I now have more variation and range in what I can do for this show. All of the ways in which I can express myself have expanded thanks to other shows as well, so I would like to keep on this track.  

And now I’d like to ask about your memories from past tours. Can you tell us about a particular scene or a particular line that left an impression on you? Daigo: For me the tour that left the biggest impression on me was our most recent one, The Battle of the Trash Heap. It was so fun to be in a play together with Nekoma’s Takato-kun (Kozume Kenma’s actor). Even after the tour, we continue to contact each other in our spare time, and I’m really happy that our relationship has progressed to that point. He motivated me so much, and because of him I now aspire to become someone who can also influence everyone around me the way he did. It’s not an exaggeration to say that Takato-kun is an inspiration to me.  

Do you have any motivational or supportive words from that beloved senpai then? Daigo: I was honestly so happy that Takato-kun, whom I admire and respect, said to me, “I love Kota’s acting.” And I’m sure that he’ll come to see this tour as well, and I don’t want to disappoint him, so I’m really keeping his words close to my heart (laughs). I want to face this play with complete sincerity and with all my heart.  

Akana-san, do you have any scenes you can’t forget? Any lines that are precious to you? Akana: This isn’t a specific scene, but what’s precious to me is Engeki Haikyuu itself, because it really taught me how precious it is to see something through to the end together with your teammates. We move around so much it’s absolutely exhausting, but the sense of accomplishment you feel when you safely accomplish a tour is incredible. And it makes me happy because every time I can also really feel how much I myself have grown and improved. I feel like this production hasn’t just helped me establish the baseline for my acting career, it’s taught me important things for just life in general.  .

And for you, Kiyama-san? Ryuu: The tour that left an impression on me is “Fly High.” For “Fly High,” I was part of the youth camp and even with just that, I was like, “I have this much stuff to do?!” So it was rough, but the Karasuno cast had about double the amount we had to do, and even so everyone was just at heart having fun with volleyball. That left an impression on me. I can pound my chest and say that we made a really fun show! The fact that we pulled it off and met our goal is a source of pride and confidence for me.  

Kiyama-san, what’s the most important thing you’ve received from your time with Engeki Haikyuu? Ryuu: “Don’t leave people behind.” In any sequence, if even one person loses count, everything comes to a halt. And when that happens, there are people who will get appropriately upset with you. It might feel like they’re being strict and unforgiving of your mistakes, but it’s because they think of you as an equal, and so they have expectations of you and love for you. And that is why I’m able to get a grip and never give up, no matter how rough it gets.   Daigo: I feel like if you go through the Engeki Haikyuu experience, it really improves your social skills and thoughtfulness. “Even if it’s hard, don’t run away.” “What should I do to best foster my relationships with these people?” These are things above and beyond what an actor normally thinks about. But if you hold back for even a moment and slip up, people get hurt. We have acrobatic routines that are that precarious, so it's really important to be constantly communicating with each other and to never let up our focus. I feel that through Engeki Haikyuu, and of course other shows too, I've really taken to heart that this level of consideration is necessary for everyday life too.

And lastly, please give us something that those of us who are looking forward to the show should keep an eye out for.   Ryuu: This work is going to cram in a huge amount of content, so it may be difficult to grasp everything on one watch, but there is a very important them eat the center of all of that. I think that it’ll be a production that fans of the manga will enjoy, of course fans of Engeki Haikyuu, and even people who may be watching for the first time. We’re in the midst of putting all of our effort into making sure of that. Please come to see our gallant figures one final time.   Akana: The focus will be on Hinata and Hoshiumi’s “Battle of the Little Giants,” on the bond between Hinata and Kageyama, and the relationships between Karasuno High and all of the rival schools that we’ve defeated to get here. As Ryuu-kun said, this production is going to have a lot of things to keep an eye out for. Engeki Haikyuu is about Passion, Courage, and deep Emotion, so I hope that people will come to see us at the theater and take that all in. Daigo: In the manga, there’s a famous line that Coach Ukai says during the Shiratorizawa match: “Volleyball is a sport where you’re always looking up.” We hope we’re able to convey all of the emotion behind those words to the audience, especially given the current circumstances. We’ll try with all of our might to do so through this play. Engeki Haikyuu began about five-and-a-half-years ago, and the time that our generation has spent running with this baton is about two years. Engeki Haikyuu is popular around the world, and this production is one where I can pound my chest and say, “It’s fun! It’s interesting and great!” I think I will be able to convey that to many many people.   I would love for you to see that with your own eyes until the moment that the final curtain falls. Please look forward to it!

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You can read the original Japanese interview here: (x)

Please do not repost my translations!  This includes screenshots of bits and pieces taken out of context, especially if they don’t link back to this full post. If you appreciate the work I do for this blog and want to support my translation efforts please consider donating a ko-fi! (x)

[inforapound]

Ease The Dawn P2 Chapter 3

A/N - Thank you for reading. Sorry for the delay with the update. I hope you like it. A big thanks to all who messaged about it. <3

Warnings - none

Words - 2,650

With the smoky scent of the coming second meal filling the great hall, Ivar's patience was done; Aethelswith had not yet returned. It had been hours since their angry exchange and well over a year since he had first stepped foot into his tent, finding her tethered to a pole. For the first time since he did not know her whereabouts and was silently going mad. Any distance between them, on a good day, made him feel off centre. Now, more anxious than ever, he was in no mood to listen to those unfortunate enough to have requested the audience of the king. Where was she?

Unable to sit comfortably on his throne, her empty chair next felt like a void. He could not stop himself from wondering what would become of him if she, one day, disappeared from his life. No! The word screamed through his mind, forcing his eyes to close. He could not ever create a reason for her to leave. Inhaling deeply, he filled his lungs, agonizingly aware that there was so much he needed to learn.

A shard of a memory flashed in his mind, the image of him as a boy with his very own duckling. His first pet, so tiny, it fit in his tiny hands. The entire day, he carried that duck like a prize; like a friend, a treasure that he would not share. Close to his chest he hugged it as Hvitserk pulled him through the streets in his wagon. His face burned, remembering the feeling of hot tears tracking down his rosy cheeks when he lifted that duckling to kiss its small beak and its head had flopped lifelessly across his wrist. Smothered, with a broken neck. That was the fate of anything Ivar the Boneless chose to love. Held so close and hard to his young heart, that he crushed it. Killed it. Loved it to death. In all the years since that day, he had never thought of it again...until now when there was another love to smother and no mother to clean it up.

Trudging out the tall doors and squinting in the mid day light, he made his way over to the head of the market. Tracking not far behind, Loni kept his distance, careful not to disrupt. The danger of the king's mood was obvious in his posture; his stiff neck and hardened chin, dark eyes, and brooding face. The people of Kattegat rushed clear of his path, some greeting him but the rest careful not to catch his eye. All were intrigued watching their ruthless king stalk the streets on foot, many assuming that someone was about to die.

Standing at the head of the market, he searched the street with stalls lining either side. This was the only public place he allowed her to visit with guards and not him by her side. Until today.... when she had asked if she was his captive.

Scanning the myriad colours, he thought back to a time when he could only dream of walking this lane with her. Watching her face as she experienced samples of far away cultures. He had been right, she loved this market; its people and all their exotic offerings. Silks and spices, beads, even charcoal and colored pastels for her drawing. Every stall seemed to pique her interest. Their keepers, mostly foreign, always offering her their smiles, tastes of their sweet treats and bunches of flowers. Through life's travels, some even spoke scraps of her language. Most notable to Ivar now was the fact that none cared that she was the Christian prize of the king. A prize kept so high and far from reach, a fall would be fatal.

Lowering his eyes, he stared at the hard-packed dirt below his twisted boots, listening to the lively sounds of merchants nearly done their day. None of it felt as loud as his regret. Pushing his breath out did nothing to loosen the tightness in his chest. He felt like a beast.

Returning to the hall doors, Ivar looked back to the emptying street. The sun's intensity was softening and the day of work winding down. Gazing toward the harbour, he wondered if she had walked the wharf, docks filled with hardened thralls and rough necked men. He had kept her world so small, simply to keep her safe. It was clear now that these past four months in his home and hall had only been a variation of her former captivity.

Moving down to a small crest overlooking the pier, he adjusted his crutch, pulling one braced leg closer to the other. The pace of the dock workers below picked up under his watchful stare. Where was she, he asked himself, knowing he was no longer mad, he just needed to know. Shuffling with agony in his lower half, he winced, shifting his weight and bearing down on his crutch. Where was his woman?

Scanning the sparse shoreline and tied vessels, his eyes, at first, dismissed the tiny form. Sitting in the sand, on the far side of the harbour, with knees pulled to her chest, he thought, at first, she was a child. The two seated guards, resting on the rocks above, told him they had been there for some time. With pain scorching his feet and knees, he turned, calling for Loni to fetch the chariot from the barn. He was going to bring his beloved home.

A wave of uncertainty washed over him as he carefully made his way. Did she regret coming, he wondered, his insides twisting at the thought? Did she regret leaving her family? Regret choosing him over everything? Letting go of his crutch, he dropped forward to the ground, his hands sinking deep into the sand. With her back to him, he pulled himself toward her; her gaze staying fixed on the thin line, where the ocean met the sun. The gentle curve of her back steered his thoughts to her courage on that grey, bleak day. It was not so long ago yet everything had changed. Could he not understand her one request, the only thing she had ever asked for; to wait until no person held any ties on her mind or future. Could he not give her that? His beautiful Aethelswith.

Shoes off with toes in the sand, she squeezed her knees to her chest. The summer season in Kattegat was not nearly as warm as home, but the sky seemed endless, Robin's egg blue and on this day entirely void of clouds. Squinting against the sun, she opened her mouth, tasting the salt in the air. Having never spent time by the sea everything about the shore, the smell, the lapping waves, and birds soaring above seemed so alive. Raising her hand to her cheek, she swept back a loose strand of her strawberry hair. Since their arrival, she had worn it down instead of tight in a braid, only pinning back the front from her face and at times not even that. Ivar loved it, unbound and free.

Ivar.... closing her eyes, the image of his chest against the skin of her back made her shift in the sand, the sensation warming her more than the sun ever could. A quickening of her heart brought her thoughts back to her body, his body really. She should repent for her sins but she never would regret giving herself to him. Stripping herself bare and spreading her legs, lying below his powerful frame. Rocking above and drawing out his whispered words, tender worship from his perfect lips. Long ago, she placed her beating heart at his feet and she would do it again and again.

Biting her lip, she looked down into the coarse sand, feeling that the force of his need, at times, was consuming. Enduring his dominance was exhausting but she did understand his need to ensconce her. Not merely for protection but because he cherished her. Truly and absolutely loved her.

How could she grumble as everything Ivar knew about love came from a woman desperate for his safety. A woman who shielded him and never held him accountable. Yes, there was a cost to loving so deeply, tying oneself to a man who was taught to take from others what he needed to survive and that was her.

A swish and soft clang along with a huff, caused her to spin and look behind. Bright blue eyes pierced her solitude but she was happy to have it shatter. Smiling, she swiveled further and outstretched our her hand.

"My love." Her words slipped out with her breath unsure if they would reach him. The softening of his face told her they had.

Dragging himself to her, he sat, stretching his legs out behind her, shame seared her chest as she watched him lift his hand to touch her back, only to hesitate. Instead, he brought his hand to the neck of his leathers, withdrawing a ruffled blue flower.

"A Forget-Me-Nots!" she exclaimed. "These are my favourite. I did not expect to see them outside of England." Bringing the blue and orange flower to her nose, she inhaled despite knowing there would be little scent.

"I shall not forget that," his lips pulled into a flat smile but the strain remained around his eyes. "I do not want you to have regrets Aethelswith."

Opening her mouth to respond, she stopped knowing he had more to say.

"I have been so focused since our return. Proving myself, overseeing the wall, expanding the port... I cannot fail." The strength of his voice softened. "But I feel that I have failed you." Tightening his jaw, his gaze seemed distant. "I have loved two women in my life, my mother being the first. I did not understand who she had to become to run this city when Ragnar left. My brothers hated my father for it and I was just too young and too angry with life to see. I see now though." He glanced down at the flower in her hand. "I see that I have been neglecting you, leaving you every day in a new city among unfamiliar people. I know what you need, and I will not fail you. Be patient with me Aethelswith. Let us spend time together over the next few days, I want to show you places that are special to me. I am new to this. Please," his brow pinched, "break into my mind and make me listen when you need me to. Like only you can."

"There is no bigger responsibility than being king," she replied. "And you are not failing me Ivar." Reaching forward, she cupped his cheek, his eyes closing at her touch. "I will be patient.... but I do have a request."

"Anything," he whispered, opening his eyes.

"Do not shut me away like a bird. Please."

Closing his eyes again, he exhaled loudly, forcing out the fear from his body.

Swiveling in the sand, she lowered her legs, crossing them in front. Raising her arms she beckoned him. Rolling onto his back, he dropped his head into her lap, his blue eyes looking up, admiring her. An easy smile pulled at his mouth as he took in her beautiful face, her natural coloured lips and flawless skin, her eyes softer than the sea.

"I am selfish for you." His brow tensed again. "But, our arguments are not my fault. I cannot help myself when it comes to you. You are the most beautiful woman I have have ever seen." Reaching up he skimmed his rough finger along the underside of her chin. "Your mind is so uniquely crafted, I worry at times that have I have no opinion until I hear yours." His smiled widened and she could see the grip of his worry release. "Watching two gulls as I made my way from the hall, fighting for the tail of a fish, I wondered which you would feel sorry for. The aggressor, fighting for territory or the runt desperate from hunger. Your wisdom allows you to see the pain of both. Your heart feels it. I am not like that, so, I need you Aethelswith. You are the only thing that keeps me from becoming a monster." Reaching both arms behind her, he wrapped his hands around her bottom.

"We will find our way, my love," she uttered quietly, running her fingers across his smooth, tanned cheek. "I have no more experience with love than you, but we will learn together. I will never leave you, Ivar. I simply could not. Even in death, I trust that you will find your way to me."

"Tell me what would make you feel more at home here. Like you belong, because you do. And... then I will address the other."

The sun was still hours from setting and Aethelswith looked up, gazing out over the twinkling waves. She hated the thought of their sweet moment being destroyed by the mention of her husband's name.

"I want to learn Norse," she replied knowing, without looking, that Ivar's grin would be stretching wide. "I need a tutor but I also need a friend. A friend other than you."

Glancing down, she watched his smile evaporate.

"Free Brana."

"Brana!" he rushed. "No Aethelswith. She is the best slave. She has been with me for years."

"Precisely, she has served you well. She could begin a life. Perhaps marry. You, who misses nothing, have surely seen the way Loni looks at her." She shook her head. "Brana is my friend and I miss her companionship now that we are here and she is so busy. She could teach me."

"I could teach you."

"Really?" she questioned.

"No," he sighed. "I would be cruel."

"Please?" Aethelswith leaned down brushing her lips across his upside-down mouth, her hair tickling his skin.

"Now, you are cruel," he said moaning into her mouth, his eyes closing for an instant. "Yes," he grunted with resignation. "I will free Brana but do not ask me to free anyone else. No kitchen thralls."

"I would not dare," she smiled straightening her back. "I have never cooked a meal in my life."

"But, she will stay in service, by your side, until I return from England. I leave in five days. I know what you need to feel free and it will be done."

"Thank you," she whispered, folding forward to press her cheek to his. Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt no guilt asking for the death of a man who stood between them.

"I love you," his lips whispered against her skin. "Come," he released his hands from her back, "my chariot awaits. Let us return for supper. You ate nothing this morning."

Sitting up, she swept back her curtain of hair, looking over to the path where Loni stood holding Ivar's horse.

Clearing his throat, Ivar looked to her again. "I want us to return to our chambers before the meal begins."

Bending forward, she kissed him again. "You want to show me how much you missed me today?" she smiled with a hint of the thoughts in her eyes. Dropping her hands to his chest, she slid them down, her fingers slipping beneath his coat finding the smooth skin of his belly.

"Well, that," he grinned up to her, "and my braces are filled with sand."

—-

Kicking the pebbles on the dirt path, Loni lowered his eyes from the beach, smiling, listening to the laughter of his best friend, stealing another kiss. Ivar was a formidable King with a reputation for ruthlessness, but, in a short time, he was equally known for his devotion to his beloved Aethelswith.

.

MASTERLIST

@naaladareia​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @lol-haha-joke​ @medievalfangirl​ @whenimaunicorn​ @ceridwenofwales​ @fangirl-nonsense​ @yanii-the-hippie​ @equalstrashflavoredtrash​ @readsalot73​ @jaydelesley4​ @fields-and-fields-of-poppies​ @silly-bullshit-collector​ @sweeneythots​ @londongal2810​ @justanothershelby​ @yourpurplequeen​ @didiintheblog​ @youbelongeverywhere @mdredwine​ @redama​ @thiahilmarsdottir​@snarkyanimecartoon @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @flygirlshygirl​ 

[theangrypokemaniac]

Contests Part 2/2

6. Loser Jessie

Screechy harpie Jessay has even more of a raw deal than Mavis and Dawn of the Dead.

From the outset I knew she'd never be champion, but she ought to rise above the tiresome berks clogging up procedure.

Sufficient popularity at Pokémon Towers ensured the girls were allotted coverage of all their award ceremonies. They had a moment in the sun.

What has Jessie in comparison?

I can't recall Hoenn, but I don't expect it was much.

Sinnoh however carried naught but a single paltry episode.

This for a main character.

This for someone there from the beginning.

This for an ardent fan favourite.

This for a wench who, should we include all her various mutations, has featured in more installments than either of 'em.

But no, treat Jesseee as worthless, even lower than Dawn's groupies. It's not like anyone watches it for her.

Looking back, it's obvious what they were intending to do come Unova.

What's the score then?

• One paltry Contest on screen.

• A couple happen elsewhere, marked by a few seconds per mention when the script oh-so generously moves away from the thrilling main plot.

It's gotta be the small-town concerns for Jessuhleenuh, nothing major. She deserves no better.

• One won by James, so not hers. Press her inadequacy upon us!

• One obtained as a gesture of pity from Kate Middleton.

And how did that work? What's the good of allowing 'Dawn' entry again?

She'd already qualified. If winning here, that gives her six, therefore there aren't enough Co-ordinators for the culmination.

And when Jessie showed up with a Ribbon recorded as belonging to Dawn, how was she taken as fulfilling the quota?

The slapdash way these Contests are run!

God forbid Jess should be shown as excelling at anything. It must be scraping into the final undeservedly.

Bitch gotta know her place.

7. Bumpkin Jessie

...

Ain't no description I can give that don't rhyme with 'hit', or variations of the theme.

You thought the shafting Jessica got coverage wise was bad enough? Yer ain't heard the 'alf of it.

Sinnoh was a period of peak Moron Team Rocket, where the one surprise was how stupid they could be.

You may remember an early episode when James designed her clothes for the catwalk. She thought it'd complement his work by applying lipstick all across her mug.

Obviously Jessie would do that, clueless as to how make-up functions.

Come on kids, she's thick!

Even at that numskull nadir it's difficult to comprehend anyone choosing this get up without severe duress.

Picture the scene: you debut on stage, before an audience of thousands and television cameras, in an event preoccupied with superficiality.

What do you wear?

• Giant, oversized glasses out of fashion since the Seventies.

• Bootlace tie last worn in the nineteenth century Wild West by a barman serving sarsaparillas.

• Colour scheme of brown and orange, the nation's favourite hues.

• A man's old shirt fraying at the cuffs.

• Voluminous apron dress.

• Massive yellow bows last seen decorating an Easter Egg. Always a winner.

• Heavy, clod-hopping boots.

• PIGTAILS!!!

Even the name is unattractive.

Ah yes, very common for those under six. Unheard of later.

You have reached puberty haven't yer Jessie? I can't tell anymore.

They couldn't get enough of that combination in Cosmo, which is why it's no longer in print.

Not only is Jessie denied success, she's deprived of the chance to be pretty in a realm where nothing but that carries weight.

Worse, given how her face disintegrated, this is the best she's been for five generations.

Yeah, because the inbred milkmaid style is such a good look, eh?

SEXAY!!!

8. So Long, Tsundere

Remember tsunderes? What happened to 'em?

The curse of Pokémon was draining the well of inspiration too quickly, throwing away interesting characters as mere guests.

This is particularly noticeable regarding the ladies. Back then, we got Misty, Jessie, Jessibelle, Cassidy, Aya, Giselle, Tyra, Sabrina, assorted crones Brutella, Nastina and Lacy, plus Joy, Jenny and Dame Ketchum provided parental authority.

How did a series that began with ball-breaking birds like that end up with insipid, glassy-eyed dullards like Zuhreena, Banana Lana, Marsh Mallow and Lilliput?

Ooh, Zuhreena is a pwincess!

Ooh, Banana Lana bwows big bwubbles!

Ooh, Marsh Mallow wuvs phallic waddishes!

Ooh, Lilliput won't pwet wanimals bwecause of Secwet Pain!

Can you imagine such weak specimens finding any place in the anarchic atmosphere of the classics?

It's SO boring!

Where's the punch? Where's the human spirit?

Where's the entertainment gone?

This squishy attitude began in Hoenn. Misty left, Jessie's hair symbolically changed from volcanic red to pink, and Contests introduced a cuddly theme where glitter glue and sequins are top priority.

Every sharp corner, every jagged point has been filed smooth. Now its substance hasn't the hardness to even develop edges, not when it's all cushions and candyfloss, where catching Pokémon rests on them deigning to grant permission, rather than 'avin it out.

Tsunderes, exuding untamed charisma and independence, besides a soupçon of danger, simply don't fit the cardboard box we habit now.

Nor do yanderes, kuuderes, tsuntsuns, or even derederes. It's just nothing but smiley-smiley creeps.

I wouldn't mind any of these tropes as long as there was some sign of colour to be had.

9. The Sacrifice of Misty

Misty bid farewell under the feeble justification that the lack of a longterm goal made her vulnerable to sacking.

Such a line uttered as if her own choice, being beyond them as writers to invent a purpose.

This implied her replacement would have an exciting quest aiming for excellence, something just beyond Misty's capabilities.

What did we get?

Dressing up and collecting Ribbons!

Is that...is that it? Is that the great idea? Is that all the girls are worth?

I lost Misty for THIS?!

Perhaps it makes no difference. By Hoenn they'd rendered her a leaden blandness sucked dry of all that made her special.

Going by the greasy-toothed bastardisation that swanned up in Alola, Misty was simply too wild for the safe, stifling atmosphere of today.

Her departure ensued she remains frozen as a funny, beloved presence, unlike those she left behind.

Now there was a lucky escape, as once the fanny-flapping starts, the bints have it on the brain.

May had Max to beat on the side, but Dawn developed monomania.

Hardly an episode went by without some reference to Contests, or how today's plot spurred her on to the next opportunity.

Yer need help, love!

Rather than Ash's new friend being a fascinating person who so happened to enter vanity projects, the competition defined them to the exclusion of life.

It is but moths drawn to the candle flame waiting to engulf them.

Contests are this world's version of Tom Riddle's diary: they promise sympathy and validation, but they eat your soul.

Like Tumblr.

10. Completely Unoriginal

Seems to me it wasn't so much Misty had no goal, it was more that Contests were the supposedly hot concept wedged into an existing property.

If earlier aspects failed to accommodate the invader, the onus certainly wasn't on the new kid to change. Oh no, stuff it in and chop off whatever gets in the way.

In the eyes of the post-Shudo regime, Misty was too volatile to last, and so had to go.

What idiots.

She's a tsundere. The softer, more feminine side is a defining component.

Would it really have been so problematic to retain her as an entrant? If Jessie can, why not?

Even if failing to fit, so what? Since when was established characterisation a barrier?

Isn't twisting likeable folk into unrecognisable pods the modus operandi of the writers?

That canon is immaterial, and must always give in to whatever fancy they currently have?

Well then, what's the big deal in infantilising Misty to promote it rather than pensioning her off?

Viewers will be more invested in the challenges awaiting a familiar face rather than a stranger.

What reduces the above to the risible is the original Misty and Jessie both participated in the Princess Festival.

All Contests are is that very scenario on repeat and robbed of all meaning.

Think about it:

• Beauty round

• Battle round

• Jessie loses

Same bloody thing.

Not only have I got to suffer this draining spectacle, it's got the nerve to possess not one iota of fresh ideas!

Contests are a low rent rip-off. The Princess Festival had a worthy reward in the shape of one-of-a-kind Dolls.

It'd already been revealed that ordinary Princess Dolls were ruinously expensive, therefore the special Pokémon edition have to be priceless.

What d'yer get for the trouble of a Contest but a bit of plastic tat taped to bargain basement frippery?

And they demand you get five of 'em!

Contests themselves were then resurrected as Showcases, although mercifully slimmed down to only three, with the emptiness ramped up in compensation.

Perhaps ironically, Princess Versus Princess is one of my favourite episodes. I love its critique of female avarice and accurate portrayal of clothing sales as reminiscent of the zombie apocalypse.

I don't mind the Festival as a single adventure, but I may have felt less favourable had it been a constant presence.

Except it isn't the competition at stake. This is a framework to explore Jessie and Misty as people.

Through its device we learn their history and therefore how they came to develop as the girls we know.

The setting serves as an opportunity for both to confront the misery and isolation of their childhoods, with the promise of overcoming that old torment with the balm of victory.

In the final, they aren't so much battling an opponent as fighting to be free of the past.

The tragedy is only one can be granted that reprieve. The other must remain unhappy in the ruins of memory.

It matters, unlike vapid Contests, where posturing is king. What depth can they provide in comparison?

Despite identical content, they are inverse counterparts, with the Festival presented as merely a light affair concealing a rather dark tale of neglect.

Contests however are paraded as this worthy nourishment for body and mind, a major point in one's journey towards enlightenment, when all they really amount to is an organ grinder and his monkey arsing about for the slack-gobbed plebs.

Bread and circuses.

Best of all, Misty won, not some side twat, as it should be.

Note how Jessie dressed: in delicate, vivid robes and golden decoration. The boys thought her beautiful.

Not as a gormless dweeb you'd cross the street to avoid!

And why the need to disguise herself anyway?

The Twerps had no issue with Jessie of Team Rocket joining the fun back then, so what happened?

At least she received the consolation of gaining Lickitung as a friend, with James and Meowth desperate to comfort her.

What do Contests bring? Sod all!

[marvellouslymadmim]

Yoyo potions lab julie and ypur choice who else and if its platonic or romantic >:D

Julie Hubble would honestly rather have her teeth removed sans novocain than attend the first parent’s night of Millie’s fourth year. But she needs to set a good example for Mildred and for Indigo, so she keeps her head held high and enters the foyer with the bravest smile she can muster.

No one says anything, but there are still stares. Miss Cackle welcomes her warmly, as does Dimity. She doesn’t expect any less—last term, when she’d attended Gwen and Algie’s wedding, she was met with absolute kindness.

But this is the rest of the parents. This includes the Hallows. This includes parents who have probably heard the wildest variations of what happened from their daughters. This includes people who have been judging her, judging her Millie, for nearly four years now.

Miss Cackle gives her a slip of paper with her timetable of teacher meetings. Julie scans over the list and immediately notices that Miss Hardbroom is not on it. Instead, Miss Cackle will be handling the potions class progress reports, in her own office.

She wonders if the woman is ill, though it’s hard to imagine. When Millie and Indie arrive, Julie mentions this, only to be met with sideways glances between the two girls. Apparently they already had some clue that HB wouldn’t be a part of the night’s activities.

“She’s just…still adjusting, I think,” Indie supplies, and Julie understands the girl is trying to be as delicate as possible.

Well, it’s not as if Julie has anything better to do for the next half-hour until meetings begin. So off she goes to the potions lab, rather certain that she’ll find the woman there (honestly, she can’t imagine HB curling up in her private chambers with a book while all this hustle and bustle happens outside her door—no, she’ll busy herself with her beloved potions, Julie knows).

Sure enough, after a solid two minutes of rather determined knocking, the door to the potions lab whips open, Hecate Hardbroom looming out with eyebrows high and nostrils flared.

Her anger stutters at the sight of Julie. “Miss…Hubble.”

“Miss Hardbroom,” Julie gives a courteous dip of her head, keeping her tone light. As if it’s perfectly natural for her to be standing here. “Well met.”

“Well…met.” It’s obvious that Hecate’s brain is still recalibrating, trying to understand.

“May I?” Julie motions inside. She’s slightly surprised when Hecate actually steps back, opening the door wider and allowing her entrance.

The door closes and Julie lets out a breath of relief. It’s quieter in here, and a bit darker, too. A welcome change.

“Is there—” Hecate starts, stops herself, still unsure what’s happening. “I’m not taking meetings tonight.”

“I noticed,” Julie holds up her schedule in explanation. “And I thought I’d come see why.”

“I assumed you’d be rather glad, having a evening free of my presence.” Hecate attempts a smirk, but it comes off a bit flat, a bit too pained. “As would the rest of the parents.”

“What?” Julie feigns surprise. “I’m sure the thought of spending the evening in your charming company, even for the slightest amount of time, is the sole reason half of them even came tonight.”

Hecate’s dark eyes flick heavenward in a half-hearted eye-roll. She’s definitely not in fighting form, Julie realizes. She eases up.

“It’s not easy, is it?” She asks quietly.

The potions mistress blinks. She waits, fingers lightly curling into her palms like question marks.

“Waiting for the condemnation,” Julie clarifies. Hecate’s reaction informs her that she’s hit the nail on the head.

There’s a full, weighted beat. Julie can practically see the calculations running in Hecate’s head, the decision on whether or not to open up.

“I don’t—I’m sure the girls talked to their parents,” Hecate breathes, holding out her hands in a helpless gesture. “And I’m still not entirely certain how much is…public knowledge. I’m not certain I want to know.”

Julie hums in understanding. Still, she adds a dash of honesty, “Hiding away isn’t going to answer that question—and it’s certainly not going stop any rumors that might already be out there.”

Hecate ducks her head, as if she’s been thoroughly chastised. She clips across the room, brushing past Julie to climb the steps, where a cauldron slowly simmers at a student’s station. With a light sniff, she studiously keeps her attention focused on her potion, drawling in her trademark dour tone, “You may not have realized this, Miss Hubble, but I am not particularly renowned for my bravery.”

The self-deprecation is lined with such self-loathing that Julie feels a pang in response. She straightens her shoulders a bit, fully turning to face the woman and setting her hands on her hips, “That’s not true, Hecate Hardbroom, and you damn well know it.”

The force of Julie’s conviction makes Hecate’s entire body snap to attention in shock. The blonde continues, “I think it goes without saying that we didn’t always agree, and yes, perhaps there was a time when I would have thought you an absolute coward, and a cow to boot, but in the end, you proved yourself to both brave and honorable. And it doesn’t even matter if anyone out there knows it—you know it, and that’s what counts.”

Hecate is watching her with wide eyes, so perfectly still that for a brief moment, Julie wonders if she’s somehow been accidentally frozen. Then, finally, she blinks.

Julie takes the silence to continue, “Millie’s told me, you know. About all the times you put yourself in danger to protect the rest of the school. And I saw it for myself that day…”

She trails off, the memory still hurting. How close she came to destroying everything, to hurting her own child, the fear in Millie’s face and the way that Hecate slid in front of her daughter, face so full of knowing and yet accepting her fate, accepting anything that gave Mildred a chance to escape, to survive.

She can’t finish that thought, so she pushes forward, “And I’ve watched you, over the summer. Sorting it all out with Indigo. Trying to undo all the bad that came before—both the parts you were responsible for, and the parts you weren’t. That isn’t easy, Miss Hardbroom. And it certainly isn’t the work of a coward.”

Hecate’s eyes are glistening—this time, when she blinks, tears roll down each cheek, slow and heavy. She doesn’t even try wiping them away.

She wants to say thank you. She wants to argue, to say all the good she’s done is still not enough to make up for what she did before, still too little, too late. She wants to devolve further into her tears. She wants to crawl back into the hardened shell of her outward persona. She wants Julie Hubble to leave. She wants Julie Hubble to stay.

Instead, she simply clears her throat, ducking her head slightly as she pushes her voice to raise above a tear-soaked whisper.

“You should go, Miss Hubble. You’ll miss your first meeting.”

Julie swivels, checks the time on the clock on the wall. Something tugs in her chest, something that can’t leave Hecate like this, looking so small and broken. She turns back to the other woman, who’s watching her with careful eyes and an unreadable mix of emotions playing across her face.

Another beat passes. Then, Miss Hardbroom extends her graceful fingers, wrist turning in a delicate fashion. The door creaks open behind Julie. Somehow this feels like a defeat, Julie thinks. Like this moment of potential connection is completely null and void.

But then Hecate shifts, rising to her full height and giving a small nod toward the open door, “I would hate to deprive two bright young witches of such a formidable guardian on parent’s night.”

Julie makes a mental note to pass along HB’s compliment to the two bright young witches in question. She simply nods in agreement, shifting towards the door.

“And…Miss Hubble?”

She stops, turns back around.

“Your words are far kinder than I deserve—but I do appreciate them, all the same.”

“Well, you know me, Miss Hardbroom, I’m not one to sugar coat things. I say exactly how I feel.”

Now the woman is truly smirking again. “Yes, one could never argue that, Miss Hubble.”

“Julie, please.”

“Julie,” Hecate repeats, softly. With one last small smile, she returns her attention back to her cauldron. Julie makes sure the door is fully closed before heading down the hall.

“Mum!” Mildred rounds the corner, eyes wide. “Where have you been?”

Julie can’t help the grin quirking across her face, “Honestly, love, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

[ineffablefool]

I got an ask which I have decided to respond to anonymoosely, because I can.

I just read your post about Fat Aziraphale and how it made you feel better - I'm trying to use Aziraphale to convince my wife (also fat) that really, she's wonderfully friend- and wife-shaped and people find her pleasant to look at.

Oof.  This kind of situation is such a hard one to be in, for all parties concerned, because we’re all stewing in nigh-constant fatphobic garbage, and almost no fat person, no matter how good their self-esteem, can ignore that garbage 100% of the time.  So the person feels bad because they don’t look the way someone else decided they should look, and the people who care about them feel bad because, well, they care.  Just yuck all around.

I have Thoughts on this, and I figured I’d put ‘em on the blog.  They are not specific to asker, especially since asker didn’t ask for advice.  Asker can totally ignore me if they like, that’s fine.  But now the Thoughts will Live on the Blog.  Oh -- and I use “fat” as a neutral descriptor throughout all this.  Not “plus-sized” or “larger” or the o word which I hate with the blue-hot screaming fire of an oxyacetylene torch of rage.  Fat.  Simple term to contrast with thin in the same way tall contrasts with short.  I like simple.

(this gets exceptionally long without being the least bit organized)

Disclaimer, I am not an expert in anything except being me.  But that means I’m an expert in being a fat human, and one who ID’d as female for over 30 years and still gets read as female 99.44% of the time (women get hit harder with this crap), and one who has done a lot of thinking about this whole mess.  So maybe that will be useful to someone.

And I don’t know if this is ever a “convince” sort of thing.  I think it’s more a “come to realize, slowly, over time, with a lot of work and hopefully support”.  (Asks aren’t the best place to craft the very finest of language, so I know there’s a lot of wiggle room in the meaning of “convince” in the ask that spurred this post, but again, I’m taking this more general.  )  It’s very hard to show a fat person your inner understanding of them as a whole and wonderful and important human being. This is because we get so many little reinforcements, day in and day out, that being fat is inherently bad, and that we are inherently bad if we are fat.  It creates a narrative which hits us from almost every conceivable angle, and it can feel very, very convincing.  (Read this 2010 post by Ragen Chastain if you want to be sad.  I’m not saying her results are typical, because her work involves dealing with fatphobia, but I am saying that if any of us sat down to do this math, we are not likely to be happy about whatever result we do get.)

So it’s a bunch of little things needed to turn things around, and it’s over a period of potentially years, and it’s the fat person in question having both the willingness and the energy to put in a bunch of boring yucky work.

Positive representation is a huge part of it, though.  It builds a new narrative.  It gives examples of fat people accomplishing things, creating things, living and having fun and just actually being people.  Of fat people being loveable, and loved, although that’s not the most important part.  I focus on it in the Good Omens hyperfixation part of my life, because my hyperfixation is completely around a romantic Aziraphale/Crowley relationship, but being a valid romantic partner is not nearly as important as all that other stuff (hi my aro and ace people you are not forgotten).  And I’ve seen a bunch of posts by people talking about how Sheen’s Aziraphale, and the fandom response to the character, have helped with their own self-esteem -- because it’s the new narrative.  It’s not “this character is (barely, if you squint, but we’ll let it ride for a sec) fat, and therefore bad or the butt of a joke or less than the thinner characters”.  It’s “this character is fat and important and loved”.  Type of love is up for all of us to decide per Mr. Gaiman, but you don’t get to argue the love.  Aziraphale’s appearance has nothing to do with his value as a human-like entity.  He’s literally tied with Crowley for most important character, given that the show has been reframed from the book to both begin and end with our ineffable duo (plus the emphasis given by the Hard Times cold open).

Sharing that new narrative with the important fat person in one’s life can be one very small part of helping them unlearn the old narrative.  If it helps, I kinda not-officially-but-it-works-out-that-way curate fatter-versions-of-Aziraphale artwork in my fat positivity tag, along with all the other fat-positive stuff that runs through my blog.  (I don’t think there’s any fics in that tag besides mine, just commentary, but I can’t remember right now.)

Over on my other Tumblr account, I follow a bunch of fat-positive blogs, although I haven’t refreshed the list in a while (I just... don’t need it as much as I used to, which is fascinating, now that I think about it), and some of them have gone dormant.  But I can recommend, in no particular order, fuckyeahfatpositive, ok2befat, and fatqueerlove (assuming the person IDs as/is comfortable with the label “queer”) for the more affirmation side of things (though there’s some activism mixed in); and bigfatscience, the-exercist, and fatphobiabusters for the more activism side of things (debunking bad science and fatphobic myths; speaking out against fatphobia in medicine, legislation, reporting, and wherever else it shoves its ugly head out from its troll-cave). The Fat Nutritionist hasn’t updated in a year, but she still has lots of good stuff up. thisisthinprivilege is... hard to read, sometimes, and I think it’s better for after you’re energized and angry about the garbage you’ve been taught.

(If anyone gets through this ridiculously long post and knows of other good resources for that last paragraph, by the way, I’d love to hear about ‘em.)

But it takes the fat person actually seeking out the new narrative, and shoving fat-positive content and mindsets into their eyeballs and brainpan, for there to be a real change, I think.  And that’s the boring yucky work part.  A lot of people find that they can’t really pull their thoughts out of the old track and into the new one without getting some help from a therapist -- and therapists are great and there’s nothing wrong with going to therapy, I see a therapist every two weeks myself -- but therapy takes time and money and energy and a therapist you can actually work with.  Not everyone has all four of those things.

It’s also important to not draw any lines when trying to communicate to one’s important fat person that they are, in fact, important and worth whatever kind of love it is that one has for them.  No “you’re not actually that fat” (how will they feel if they gain more weight later?).  No “at least you’re healthy” (how will they feel if they become unhealthy?).  No “but you carry it well” or other variations on “at least you’re not one of the ugly ones” (how will they feel if their appearance changes later?).

If there’s a line, then your important fat person always has to be careful not to cross it.  Don’t imply to them that there is actually an appearance-related condition to your love for them, and they just luckily haven’t failed you yet.  If there actually is such a condition, maybe sit down and have a few deep thoughts with yourself.

Plus, speaking personally, I am “that fat”, and I’m not 100% healthy, and I carry it weird and am really-weird looking.  And I don’t appreciate being thrown under the bus so someone can tell someone else “at least you’re not one of those, you know, the fat people who aren’t valid and important human beings”.  So nobody ever do that.  Please.

Final words to my unhealthy, or really really fat, or weird-shaped or just plain ugly-by-current-common-standards fat people out there -- i got u fam.  You’re all valuable and important and I love you.  And you’re all doing, or going to do, amazing things, because doing amazing things has precisely jack to do with the amount or positioning of fat upon your very important and inherently worthy human self.

That’s all!  If you made it this far, then you get this link to a photo of a cute bearded dragon in a hat, if you’d like to click it.  I follow william-snekspeare on my other account and have commissioned him for artwork twice now and he is an absolute dear.

And I hope asker’s wife has a good body image day tomorrow.

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

Dreams

Yesterday my dream started with an invasion of enemy territory, and ended up with a wrassling match against a trans man who insisted we take our clothes off, down to the skivvies, beforehand, such that I was unclear on how much this had to do with asserting a winner for the aforementioned invasion. The wrasslin’ was fun! It reminded me of a fight I had with my friend Julian a long time ago, one of a very few fights I’ve managed to have with friends just for fun. My very favorite part of that fight was right at the end, before we called it done, when he thought he had a pin and then I realized his supposed pin could only be overcome if I could apply about five hundred pounds of force with my thigh muscle, at which point I literally just flexed him out of it - At the time I could lift the entire stack of weights on the machine that did the thigh exercises, which was something like 720 pounds - It became more of an exercise in holding myself in the chair while I did the exercise, since the weights weighed so much more than I did.

Today my dream started with an imperial assassin who was still some kind of major beloved figure in his asian society. He was so famous that this other major figure - a chess master, or other form of professional strategic game player - was forced to follow and study his work, because the government considered his first five moves toward a kill to be perfect, and the gamer had to use the killer’s "perfect five moves.” And frustratingly, this did seem to have a positive impact on his win rate, in spite of being sickeningly predictable.

That’s where it started. And then someone went to a clinic, and he found out that he had AIDS. He returned and now there were three paths, and one of the paths was dark gray and led to a drop, and he planned to go there and drop and die, and a friend of his met him in the middle, where he was picking paths, and gave this rational but not-very-inspiring speech, which is something like this:

Man, you have never known how much time you had. You’ve always known it wasn’t going to be long enough, that it was painfully, terribly short. You want to stop it now, just because you have a better idea than you used to about how much time you have? Why? Listen, killing yourself before you even get sick is just like staying up late when you didn’t get your chores done. It’s doing exactly the wrong thing to try not to admit anything was ever wrong. But staying up late doesn’t stop tomorrow from coming, and you still end up having to deal with the consequences of not doing your work... And killing yourself early doesn’t give you extra time as a non-sick person. It gives you less. You’ve never known how much time you had before you get sick and die, and it’s always been an adventure you’ve been on, to do as much living as you can before that happens...and that much is still true. You’re not even sick yet, man. At least wait until your body starts to give out.

I didn’t get to hear any counter-arguments. That’s the point where I woke up, and it was 3 am, which is a kind of miserable time to wake up, but whaddaya gonna do?

I think I want to use a variation on one of these lines in my D&D horror game. It will give the whole campaign a frightening kind of weight.

[ragewerthers]

Beep.  Boop.  Does Not Compute.

This is a fic I wrote for @bgn846

Summary:  A little teasing goes too far during one of their movie nights. Luckily, Gladio is more than willing to prove to Ignis that he's not what everyone thinks he is.

Words: 2411

You can also find it on my AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17505866

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

“I’ve made up two different types of popcorn for this evening.  I know you prefer the simple buttered variety though I’ve also made up an alternative if you’d care to try it.  It’s coated in a sesame-ginger sauce and adds a little bit of flare to a normally droll..,”

“Iggy.  Babe.  I love you.  I respect you.  But if you don’t get your butt over here I’m going to start the movie without you,” Gladio said gently, his expression both teasing and fond as the Advisor to be made his way into the living room, two bowls of popcorn in hand.

It was one of the rare evenings where both retainers in training had been able to steal a little time for themselves, sharing in something that allowed them to relax and not think too much on their responsibilities and duties.

Currently they had decided to have their movie night in Ignis’s small apartment, Gladio already comfortably settled into one corner of his sofa, an arm slung over the back and feet resting on the others coffee table.

Huffing slightly, Ignis set both bowls of popcorn on his small coffee table, poking Gladio’s foot in reprimand.   The Shield instantly brought both feet back to the floor with a chuckle as Ignis made his way over to take a seat beside him,

“Pardon me for wanting to make sure our needs are met before starting in on this movie,” he murmured, leaning a bit into the taller mans side as the Shield wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“My needs would be met by you just being at my side.  I don’t need popcorn to be content, Iggy,” Gladio said gently, pressing a soft kiss to his temple as the young Advisor relaxed minutely into his hold.

“That’s completely unfair,” he mumbled, allowing himself a moment to slip from his normally stoic facade to pout.  “You’re not allowed to be sweet when I’m trying to be right.”

“Deal with it,” Gladio growled playfully against his ear, his arm moving down to wrap around Ignis’s waist, giving his side a little pinch and making the man jump sharply.  “Now quiet.  You’re going to enjoy watching this romantic comedy with me, no more fussing, and we’re going to have a calm, relaxing evening.  Understood?”

Ignis adjusted his glasses from his reaction before sighing in dramatic defeat and bringing his legs up to stretch out along the length of the sofa, back pressed against Gladios side as the mans hand came to rest on his stomach.

“Fine.  No more ‘fussing’ as you put it.  Even if it was just out of lov-,”

Gladio instantly started gently pinching and prodding along his boyfriends stomach, causing the man to jolt and snort, slapping at the brutes hand as yelps and horrid giggles escaped.

“O-okay, okay!  Dehehesist!” he pleaded, soon finding the offending hand soothing along his stomach to make up for the teasing.

“Now shush,” Gladio chuckled lightly, kissing the back of Ignis’s head once more before reaching for the remote and hitting play.

The movie was as to be expected.  There were two very different people with two very different lives who absolutely despised one another, but through a series of very interesting circumstances they were now having to pretend to be in a relationship.

“Surely her family would’ve seen through this charade,” Ignis whispered as a family get together was starting to go awry, his fingers lightly tracing some of the feathered tattooing adorning Gladio’s forearm.

Gladio shook his head from where he sat, giving his boyfriend a little squeeze around the middle where he still sat snuggled up against him.

“Let it go, Iggy?  It’s supposed to be funny,” he whispered back, though Ignis still gave a little grumble of disapproval, moving his hand away from his partners arm.

“Then they are clearly missing the mark.  There’s nothing funny about poorly written characterization.  I mean really!  It’s blatantly obvious that these two don’t hold the slightest interest in one another.  Her eyes keep going to her childhood sweetheart and her supposed ‘beloved’ isn’t even batting an eyelash at that because he’s too busy trying to make moves on her sister!”

The more he talked about the movie the more he started to work himself up, unable to help giving his opinion.  Every movie night ended up like this.  Gladio investing himself into the film while Ignis seemed incapable of stopping himself from commenting on this, that and the other thing.

“It doesn’t have to make absolute sense, Iggy.  It’s just a fun little movie.  You know what fun is don’t you?  Or did you replace it with extra politics lessons as a kid?” he asked, a playful smile quirking up the corners of his lips as he tried to keep his eyes on the screen, feeling the way Ignis all but puffed up indignantly next to him like a disgruntled chocobo.

“Yes.  I know what fun is, Gladiolus.  Thank you very much.”

Uh oh.  Full name.  He must’ve hit a sore spot.

Turning his head now to look down he could see Ignis had his eyes trained on the screen, though his lips were set in a thin line and colour was already dusting high over his cheekbones.

Yeah.  He’d definitely ruffled Ignis’s feathers a bit.

It really wasn’t anything new to have Ignis talking through a movie and, if Gladio was being honest, it was something that he enjoyed.  

He loved the running commentary his boyfriend could give on any given movie.  Whether it was to give him background information on a historical documentary they watched, solve the murder before they even got to the detective in the movie, or the way he’d give him several different emergency escape plans when they watched natural disaster flicks.

However… he knew that this particular comment was one he should’ve thought over before voicing it.

Iggy got it from everyone.  That he was no fun.  Gladio himself had heard it from Noct, from Prompto, from some of the Crownsguard they trained with.  Everyone thought Ignis was some sort of robot devoid of feeling and emotion who lived only to work before going home to shutdown and restart the next day.  If he was hearing it than there was no way that Ignis missed the snide comments or off handed remarks regardless of how innocent they may be.

Gladio knew he was so much more than that though.

He knew about the Ignis who would take his water bottle and squirt it at him during training to be an ass and throw him off when he started showing off.  He knew about the Ignis who’d stuck two straws in his mouth to look like tusks when he’d noticed Gladio getting distracted with worry during one of their very first dates.  He knew of the Ignis that not many got to see because he’d been forced to build his walls so gods damned high to be the pillar that didn’t crack under the weight of his responsibilities.

People were quick to call him out on not being fun, but when did any of them ever give him the chance to do so?

And here, Ignis had simply been doing what he’d always done in the comfort of their movie nights.  Talking and sharing his thoughts on a film they were watching only for Gladio to inadvertently tease him over something that the Shield was well aware bothered him.

A bubble of guilt was slowly starting to build in Gladio’s chest as he saw Ignis starting to build those walls back up when he should’ve felt comfortable and content in the safety of this place.

“Ignis?”

Nothing.

“Iggy?”

The movie continued to drone on in the background, but Gladio could see that Ignis wasn’t watching it.  The man was already caught up in that big brain of his and Gladio hated knowing he’d been the cause.

“Ignis.  I’m sorry.  I know you know what fun is,” he murmured, giving the side of his head a little nuzzle in the hopes to draw him back out.

“It’s fine, Gladiolus.  Android Ignis wouldn’t know what fun was if it bit in the backside, right?” came the quiet little reply and Gladio felt that bubble of guilt in his chest double in size.

“Don’t say that, Ignis,” he murmured, chest aching a little as he leaned back and took in his partners form beside him.

Ignis had drawn his legs up at some point, arms crossed over his chest and head now turned away from the ridiculous movie that neither of them really had any interest in anymore.

“Hey,” Gladio murmured softly, wrapping his arm around Ignis’s waist a little more and bringing his free hand up gently touch Ignis’s chin, turning his head back to meet his gaze.  “You’re one of the funniest and funnest people I know, Iggy.”

Turning his head slightly when Gladio prompted, Ignis looked up at the Shield, a frown still evident in his features.

“I can’t even enjoy a movie with you the way you want me to, Gladio.  I’m fussy over silly things like snacks.  I get caught up in the minutia of the films.  How much fun can that be?” he asked quietly.

“Ya ever think that that’s one of the things I enjoy most?” Gladio asked gently as he saw how disheartened Ignis had become.

The young Advisor huffed at that and shook his head.  “What?  Your robotic boyfriend needing to make variations of popcorn?” he asked.

“No.  Well… yes, but not what I was going for,” Gladio said with a little shake of his head.  “I like listening to you talk during the movies.  I like hearing your opinions and seeing you get worked up over things I never would’ve noticed.  I find it fun to watch these movies with you because you relax and speak your mind over things like whether or not two people can float on a door..,”

“They can’t…,”

“... or whether Insomnia could survive a nuclear winter...”

“It could…,”

“... or whether or not this couple on screen is believable,” he finished with a soft smile as Ignis started to relax a little under the reassurances.  “Don’t ever think of yourself as robotic, Iggy.  You’re far from it.  You are the most fun person I know.”

“Then you really don’t know that many people, do you?” Ignis said, though a smile was definitely trying to appear over his lips now.

“Hey!  Quit knocking yourself like that or I’m going to have to take drastic measures to prove to you how unrobotic and fun you are,” he warned playfully, nuzzling his stubbly cheek against the side of the man’s head.

“Beep.  Boop.  Does not compute,” Ignis said flatly, using his impressive force of will to keep a straight face and not react to his boyfriends antics.

Narrowing his eyes, Gladio growled, wrapping both arms around his partner and pulling him closer against his chest as the Advisor gave an indignant little squeak.

“I warned ya, Igs,” he purred against his ear before his fingers started their attack, finding the soft spots along his sides and stomach and instantly making the bespeckled man squirm where he sat.

Ignis instantly flailed, laughter bubbling up in his throat which he tried desperately to tamp down on as he pushed at his boyfriends hands.  All hope was lost when the Shield began to nuzzle against the back of his neck as well, instantly sending him into a most unbecoming giggle fit.

“Gl-... Gla-hahadio!  NO!  Nonono-ahaha!” he laughed ridiculously, legs kicking out and knocking off the throw pillows when he felt his partners fingers traveling up to his ribs, instantly bringing out a snort of laughter.

“There it is!  Proof that my Iggy isn’t an android,” Gladio cooed as he continued to nuzzle the poor mans neck and vibrate his fingers against Ignis’s oversensitive ribs.  “Androids don’t snort when they laugh!”

Ignis’s face had reached a lovely shade of red now as he snorted again in between manic giggling, his hands still trying to push at Gladio’s arms to free himself from this ticklish torture.

“A-Ahahndroids d-don’t lahahaugh at… at ahahall!  WA-HAHIT!” he cried out before finding Gladios hands sneaking up under his arms to tickle against his exposed armpits, instantly making him clamp his arms down as renewed wild laughter escaped him.

“See?  You agree with me then, right?” Gladio asked smugly as Ignis nodded, words something he was entirely incapable of as his boyfriend reduced him to a laughing, snorting puddle of ridiculousness.

Gladio soon took mercy on his partner, slowing his tickling fingers until ceasing entirely.  He chuckled softly as he pressed a few soft kisses against the back of his head, letting Ignis catch his breath to calm down.

The Advisor brought his hand up to wipe at a few tears of mirth, shaking his head.

“You… are hor-horrible!” he chided, though the smile on his face and the levity in his voice removed any malice from his words.

Gladio only smiled more as he brought his hands down to smooth over Ignis’s sides, feeling the man tense before calming once more when he realized he wasn’t about to be attacked again.

“I can live with that so long as I finally got it through that brilliant head of yours how adorably human and fun you are,” he said softly.

“Tickling is an underhanded tactic, Amicitia, and you know it,” he said simply, though he turned now in the mans hold to look up at him, his expression softening after a moment.  “But thank you.”

“For what?” Gladio asked gently, bringing a hand up to carefully sweep Iggy’s bangs from his forehead.

“For being so kind to me……….. and pausing long enough to let me do this!”

In an instant, Ignis had managed to grab one of the fallen throw pillows and thwack his behometh of a boyfriend over the head with it before jumping off of him and running toward the hall, a bright, carefree laugh escaping him.

Stunned from the attack, Gladio had to take a moment to realize what had happened before growling and jumping up to give chase.

“Get back here you moogle butt!”

The movie was now entirely forgotten as the Shield chased his Advisor all over the small apartment.  It didn’t matter to Gladio what anyone thought of his Ignis… it just meant he got to keep this fun, amazing, spontaneous man all to himself.

[omgrollatorsforseniorslove-blog]

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[overcaffeinated-creative]

Lumi x Fenn for the ask meme, please? ^^

OTP Question Meme

This got pretty long so it’s going under a cut. :D

1. Who is the most affectionate?

Starting out it’s Fenn but once Lumi’s fully comfortable it’s her. Imagine her like a cat in that regard. Once she’s decided someone is hers then they’re hers and she had no issues laying across them or touching or anything.

2. Big spoon/Little spoon?

Fenn’s Big Spoon and Lumi’s Little Spoon. It’s easy to keep her lekku from getting squished when she’s in front of him. Plus, Lumi enjoys being held a lot and human’s are warm in a comfortable kind of way. She’s also fond on laying on his chest so her lekku can fan out.

3. Most common argument?

Lumi’s lack of manners a few hours after waking up and how it scares the others…a lot. Also, the fact she’s prone to wiggling into his arms to take his datapad, caf, and even food sometimes. Lumi looks criminally adorable doing it but that was his biscuit and he would like to finish it himself.

4. Favorite non-sexual activity?

Flying or anything to do with starfighters really. Lumi feels the most free in Space and it’s where she best connects to the Force. Getting to share something so special to her with someone she loves with her whole heart is amazing. They also make a fantastic team working on any and everything together. It’s quality bonding to get their hands dirty and try to make something run better. Watching or playing boloball comes up. Lumi took to the sport like a duck to water. 

5. Who is most likely to carry the other?

Lumi. She’s incredibly strong and not at all shy about demonstrating it. During the Clone Wars she was basically bench pressing one of her Troopers just to prove a point to Mace during an argument. She’ll hoist Fenn up, heavy protector armor and all, if there’s a point to be made. 

6. What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

Lumi loves how Fenn feels in the Force. Almost everything she feels is muted because it’s how she keeps Shatterpoints from overwhelming her. But, even with everything hazy and suppressed the first time she met Fenn was kind of world shaking. He glowed in the Force. He was like a storm meeting a rainbow, what flying on her own felt like for the first time, or even that freedom of breaking atmo. It was at once overwhelming and one of the most welcoming feelings ever. She’s also a fan of his fancy hair.

Fenn loves Lumi’s bravery. He doesn’t have the Force but he’s seen how it overwhelms her at times. The withdrawn nature, sunken eyes, and how utterly flat she seems. Blocking out everyone, and everything, could make her life so much easier to live. Yet, she continuously opens herself up to him or Hera or others knowing it could hurt her. Dropping her guard to let people in, especially after what’s happened to her, takes something few people possess. But, she does it time and again to help others. He’s also a fan of how utterly celestial her markings are over her lekku and body. There’s nebula that wish they could shine even a fraction of the way she does.

7. What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

Honestly, not a lot. They develop feelings for each other long before they act on them. Fenn continues to support Lumi as a friend above all else and waits until she’s ready for them to move to the next stage. That being said, Lumi does start letting him see more of her though. He gets to see her with ears (elfin like a typical AMAB Twi'lek’s) instead of keeping them hidden or she’ll talk to him without her eyebrows painted on. He lets his guard lower around her even more. He doesn’t have to be the Leader of the Journeyman Protector’s to her. He can just be Fenn complete with his flaws and insecurities and doubts.  

8. Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?

Lumi’s called Fenn a variety of things but tends to favor saying “Fenn” like a Ryl name. It’s been a quirk since she first met him. She’s called him “Eswok” (Ryl for Heart) a few times as well. Variations of Uj'ayl also get applied to him because, “You’re red and sticky like Uj'ayl.” Sometimes a typical “Red” in varing languages slips out.

Fenn calls her Lu'ika a lot or Umi. Cyare (Mando'a for Beloved, Loved) creeps in sometimes but not super often. Kando gets tossed around more. It’s Mando'a for “Importance, Weight” but also serves as the root word for Kandosii meaning “Indomitable, Ruthless” or Kandosii'la meaning “Stunning, Amazing.” All words the correctly apply to Lumi.

9. Who worries the most?

Hands down it’s Fenn. He knows what the Force is and tries to understand a lot of it. But, that doesn’t change how much he worries over what it seems to demand of Lumi. What kind of semi-sentient power or deity or whatever it is makes the demands of children that it makes? He’s watched Shatterpoints overwhelm Lumi to the point she’s been nearly catatonic with wide eyes seeing and following and feeling millions of paths. To hear her say, “It was worse when I was a child” concerns him. He also knows that by virtue of her possessing she will expected to walk paths he can’t follow her down.

10. Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?

Lumi because Fenn tends to favor some things over others. Plus, he has a “Standard” for food as he calls it. Meanwhile, she’s okay with eating whatever she catches, with or without cooking it.

11. Who tops?

In terms of physically on top it’s Lumi more often than not. Fenn’s typically more dominate in personality though and in control.

12. Who initiates kisses?

Both of them. They spent a long time not-together but wanting to be to not make up for lost time. Lumi kisses the corner of his mouth sometimes or gives a quick peck on the lips. Fenn aims more for forehead or top of the head kisses. They’re also both very good at upside kisses because one is behind the other and leaning over.

13. Who reaches for the other’s hand first?

Lumi. She loves the reassurance that he’s there.

14. Who kisses the hardest?

Hands down it’s Lumi. She’s got no qualms about turning a kiss into a war and happily claiming everything. Kissing her is just as likely to end with her partner backed into a wall or shoved down (or off in a few cases) furniture as it is to be tender.

15. Who wakes up first?

Fenn because he’s usually got something involve the Protector’s to do. Lumi’s job is less of a set schedule. 

16. Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

Lumi. She’s not a fan of this waking up or moving thing. Why would she be when she can linger a little longer and cuddle Fenn?

17. Who says I love you first?

They basically say it at the same time the first time. It happens when the Empire gets booted from Mandalore (about 13 BBY in my canon) and they just kind of collide during the post-Victory high.

18. Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)

Fenn so he can make sure she’s eating Real Food. They’re usually little encouraging things or sometimes reminders. A few times just quick doodles to make her laugh.

19. Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?

It was kind of a nice public announcement. Lumi gets her fighter back on the ground, is out of the cockpit having just ran a trench run on an older class of Star Destroyer being used by Saxon, and took it out. Soon as her boots are on the ground, she’s scanning the crowd for Fenn, who only recently landed himself, then bolting toward him while getting her helmet off. Then it’s both of them passionately kissing in the middle of everything. She’s basically clinging in his arms with her legs legs around his waist.

20. What do their family/friends think of their relationship?

Hera, with the grace of a 16 year old, believes it was finally freaking time it happened and says just that. Bly and Aayla second this opinion. Solus is super, super happy. Fenn’s family and friends are pretty happy too. They’re a good match and they deserve their happiness.

21. Who is more likely to start dancing with the other?

Fenn because it makes Lumi giggle and smile. She’s a surprising graceful dancer and enjoys being lifted or twirled around. 

22. Who cooks more/who is better at cooking?

They split cooking pretty evenly but overall Fenn’s the better cook. Most of what Lumi knows is Survival Cooking such as making mushrooms appealing to eat for the sixth meal in a row or how to make Mynock edible by carbon based life forms. Fenn appreciates her efforts though and assure her she makes the best rycrit stew he’s ever had, including Mal'aa’s. Watching her lose to Harshuun Bread is also adorable (not that he would ever say it) because she’s got flour everywhere and is commenting things like, “Humans just need to evolve to eat raw foods like the rest of us instead of being so squishy.”

23. Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?

Fenn but that’s only because he’s actually capable of pick up lines. Lumi basically blanks out and has no idea how to actually flirt with another living being. She’s said better lines to her starfighter than to someone she’s dating or wanting to date.

24. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

Totally Lumi. You know that nice home stretch of Hyperspace between you and home?. Where it’s safe and your mind wonders? Yeah, she knows that place and she’s straight up turns into into Dirty Talk Power Hour whenevery there’s a chance. Doesn’t matter if she’s the one flying it or the one waiting for the flier to get back. If there’s a chance she’s on the comm and getting Fenn primed for landing.

Fenn tries to pay her back a few times but it mostly just ends with him getting drug into a closet/empty hangar/behind this pile of crates. Because, hey, she’s a hair trigger and always wins Tooka and Mouse.

25. Who needs more assurance?

Lumi. As confident and bold as she appears Lumi’s insecure over somethings. She’s so, so worried that she’s not the leader people make her out to be or that she continuously makes the wrong choices. There’s also a lot of Survivor’s Guilt after Order 66. Sometimes, she just needs someone to hold her and let her take the burden of everything off her shoulders. Or, for them to remind her that she’s truly capable of everything she does.

26. What would be their theme song?

All of Me by John Legend

27. Who would sing to their child back to sleep?

Fenn. I imagine he’s got a soothing voice when he sings. Lumi wants to try but she’s a little self conscious about singing for other’s to hear for the first ever.

28. What do they do when they’re away from each other?

They keep each other in their thoughts. Both of them are more than capable of working apart from each other without worries. But, they do miss each other. Lumi tends to pick up little things to bring back to Fenn because she’s out of system more. They also try to send a message or two to one another just to touch base.

29. One headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart

Fenn dies before Lumi by a couple of centuries at least. He’s human with a human lifespan that all of the advances in the world can’t overcome. Lumi mourns him for a long, long time. It was like losing her lekku or half her heart. They were a team and now she has to make those decades of joy last for centuries until they get to meet again.

30. One headcanon about this OTP that mends it

When Lumi tells Fenn she’s pregnant with Kotan he starts crying. It was one thing to talk about having children one day but it was another to have this complete surprise happen. Before it had always been “After the War” with it nagging at the back of their minds that there might not be an After the War for them. Pilots live dangerous lives that tend to end short. But, something seemingly against all odds, happened and here they are having a child. It’s exactly the perfect time but there’s not perfect time to have a child. So, they’ll make this work because nothing can stop them when they work together.

[bopeepwritingsheep]

The TAZ writer’s discord is a terrible influence and they fanned my one-off ‘Johann is the reincarnation of Keats’ suggestion into this little smattering of snippets. 

Lydia and Edward realize that the spell they used to resurrect Keats wasn’t a revival spell, it was a reincarnation spell. They try and locate his soul and end up finding the signal for it on the moon, but thanks to those lich shields they can’t actually get to it. Instead, they track every pod that heads down and when they see Angus come out of one of them, reminding them so strongly of curious, baby Keats they snatch him up assuming he’s their beloved little brother.

They are wrong.

Johann notices first when Angus never comes back from his errand to pick up some new rosin and sheet music. He follows the coordinates of his pod, then follows the trail of people who saw him and eventually finds himself venturing into the felicity wilds, violin ready to strike. He casts sleep on half the monsters he finds and follows strange billboards he only heard rumors about ages ago when the bureau was first assembled. Johann knows about Wonderland, he prays the billboards are lying. This place that almost killed his Mo--His Director, and it could take his brother his friend.

Johann walks into Wonderland and walks into a Nightmare he couldn’t have possibly expected.

“We've always been missing our own live accompaniment! A bard, we should have known!” Lydia crows, appearing beside Johann in a bright flash of neon green. Johann blinks, but only startles as an arm slithers across his back and he turns the other way to see Edward. He shouldn’t know their names but he does.

The man tugs him closer, “Come on, Keats. We'll get rid of that little human boy. Oh, what were we THINKING, a HUMAN? How silly of us, Keats.”

The touches don’t feel invasive, and maybe that’s the worst part because they’re familiar and soft and he saw the Director after she came back from Wonderland. Nothing here is soft but the woman’s voice is as she leans in and whispers, “Keats, it’s alright, we've got you. You don't have to be sad or alone anymore, you have US. Remember us, Keats.”

Keats--Johann, his name is Johann--brushes back his hair, it’s the same shade. He lacks the colorful highlights and lowlights but the same rich warm brown, like rosewood, peaks past at their roots. That’s where Johann locks his gaze, so he doesn’t have to meet their eyes and see if they reflect back his own.

“My name is Johann. Give me back my friend.”

“Keats, sweetie, that’s just not how the game is played.”

“We know you’re new to this, Baby Bro, but there ARE rules that even we can’t bend.”

Johann breathes in. He breathes out and black, noxious smoke fills the air. He wants to cry but then Lydia and Edward will lock him up again--Or worse, they’ll take Angus and Johann will have to spend endless hours panicking over whether he’d gotten the little boy killed or tortured.

Instead, Johann is stuck here, killing and torturing strangers and he just wants to go home. He speaks softly, he tries to enunciate better--Keats had good diction, “Can I go back to my room? I-I want my violin.”

He hates the strange electric one they’ve given him, it’s tinny sound makes his ears ache and the bow feels artificial and wrong in his hands. They took his violin, only let him play it in his room at ‘night’. He always casts sleep on Angus so the little boy stops having nightmares. After what he’s done now, he’s terrified they’ll take it away.

Ungrateful brothers don’t deserve such nice things.

“Angus?”

“Yeah, Johann?”

“I-I need you to call me Keats now. They--Edward and Lydia might stop hurting you so much. You’re the only one who still calls me that.”

“...If I stop will you still remember?”

“I-It’s okay, I mean, stuff is fuzzy lately. I think being around them brings back, like, the dead memories but I’m still--Johann’s still part of me.”

“I’ll still call you Johann. When it’s just us.”

“...Thank you.”

“Hey--Hey Angus, it’s been a little while.”

Keats--Johann, Johann, Johann--is so terrified. The little boy in front of him looks like an utter wreck, he doesn’t look like the always immaculate fancy boy, Angus McDonald. His body shakes with exhaustion. Charm person isn’t supposed to be like this, his sib--The twins have altered it. Done something to this variation to make it last so long and it’s clearly hurting the little boy they’ve inflicted it upon.

“Hello, sir! Did you have fun today? Miss Lydia and Mister Edward said I did such a good job we could have a sleepover to celebrate!” His grin is too wide, his eyes a little too bright and Keats knows the boy is running on empty, “I’m not very tired but we can do a puzzle, you love puzzles, Mister Keats!”

He hates puzzles, they’re frustrating and repetitive like everything in this gods forsaken place. He wants to sit in the corner in and cry. He wants to scream and topple the beautiful grand piano in the corner and smash it to pieces with magic. He wants to scoop up Angus and soothe the sickly red lines on his wrists and the wild look in his eyes but Edward and Lydia have taken away his violin privileges. So Johann does something that sickly, weak-lunged Keats had never been able to do.

Johann sings.

“Lullay, mine Liking, my dere sone, mine sweting,” His voice fills the room, low and soft. Johann practically sags with relief when Angus blinks and wobbles on his feet. The half-elf reaches out an catches the boy before he falls, cradles him, and sings, “Lullay, my dere herte, mine own dere derling.”

Johann finishes casting calm person layered with a heavy dose of sleep, “Hey, just take a nap for me, okay? I’ll be right here the whole time.”

“J-Johann? Where--What’s going on?”

“Shhh, lullay, just sleep. I’ve got you.”

There’s a full crowd outside, not just his sibling’s fans, the clamoring ocean of lacquered wood, but people here to see him. It’s very exciting, to have a crowd for his very first performance. He isn’t supposed to peak but he does, Lydia and Edward are dancing so they won’t notice his lasp of good behavior but he just wants to see. Keats smiles when he spots Angus, banging his hands against the stage. He always loves Lydia and Edward’s performances so Keats hopes that Angus will like his.

Angus is with others his eyes are immediately drawn to the woman--Keats eyes water for just a moment and he squints. Very carefully he wipes his eyes, doing his best not to muss up the makeup Edward had painstakingly applied in preparation for Keats’ big debut. There are other folks with Angus, three men but none of the flashing lights catch him this time.

He pulls back when he hears his cue, lifts the blindingly bedazzled electric violin to his chin. He ignores how wrong the weight feels. He lets his bow fly, the beat is faster than what feels comfortable but it’s the song that Edward and Lydia gave him. They say once he’s been working for a little longer they’ll let him write his own music, but only if he lets them approve. They’re the ones who know what the people want, after all.

Keats plays wonderfully until the curtain rises for his big entrance. He grins wide at the audience, like Edward and Lydia taught him because No one likes a Debbie Downer and Isn’t it just easier to Smile, Keats?

But then he looks out at the crowd. Angus is crying--He’s just that proud of Keats, isn’t he? The three men are shouting and so are the mannequins around them. It must be a standing ovation! Then he looks over at the woman and she--She looks scared. She can’t be scared--The Director is the bravest one of all of them, if she’s scared then something is--Keats shudders to a halt, the sickly twang of a missed note fills the stage as he stares out at the crowd.

Lydia is at his side almost immediately, “Oh, look Keats! You’ve got adoring fans, you’ve just grown so much under our tutelage!”

He smiles because he’s made Lydia proud, hasn’t he? She seems happy and he glances over at Edward stood at the other end of the stage--but his brother isn’t there and Keats feels a shiver of--Of stage fright. He’s just so nervous about his first performance, his eyes feel itchy.

His chest aches.