#only two of these sessions are things ive actually written. however they are all possible

[birdy-bird-art]

Doctor Mary Joy has seen many patients over the years. She hides it well; while it may not seem like she has a specialty (and certainly, it's not one she advertises), Mary focuses on Protagonists. People who have found themselves outside their canon, in stories that allow them to fully acknowledge the horrible things canon did to them, the traumas they experienced. Fanfiction is often not so kind as canon, and has a tendency to dig into these Protagonist's heads; Mary tries to be there for them, to help them adapt to a more realistic world than they are used to- even if they don't know that's what she's doing.

[calm-and-wine]

(I’ll give you) the best years

part IV (masterlist, taglist)

Hello and happy monday! I hope everyone is having a lovely day, as you all deserve. I’d like to take this moment to say one more thank you to everyone who voted for my little story for the awards. We got runner up for best sequel (like whaaaaat), that is crazy and I love every single one of you. Here is part IV, hopefully it’ll bring you a little escape. (it’s 9.5k which I think is the longest thing I’ve ever written, but apparently I couldn’t help myself with this one)

PART IV

March 2025

Lucy was familiar with Niall in his recording mode. When he was in the studio day and night, having one idea after the other. But Niall working on music for One Direction was a different story. She has never seen him so excited, he was bouncing off the walls, gushing about studio sessions and laughs he shared with the boys, constantly playing her bits and snippets of what they had been working on. But working as a team with three other guys made it much harder to make the couple’s schedules line up. However, they still made it work, as much as possible. Niall made sure to keep his schedule free for all the Grand Slams and he even managed to be with her for some other tournaments on her last tour as well.

She was more than impressed that the band managed to keep their reunion a secret, mostly working in Louis’ little home studio. Even though they definitely weren’t as watched by the public as a few years before, knowing how big of a deal the band was, Lucy was pretty sure that as soon as people would get a whiff of them possibly coming back, they would go crazy for those guys once again. It was just the magic of them, something no one could explain, least of all the men involved.

Her and Niall managed to meet up in Los Angeles for a little over a week. Harry was there doing promo for his upcoming movie, which he filmed early last year, so he could still work on some songs with Niall, while Lucy was supposed to do two magazine photoshoots and interviews, as well as a talk show appearance, before going to play in Indian Wells. She had done a few things like that before, been a guest on a few tv shows back in England after winning her first Grand Slam, then in America after the US Open triumph, there were some magazine things as well. But since January, after she announced this would be her last season as a professional player, quite a few offers came in. Apparently she was the new sports star in demand. She wasn’t the biggest fan of those kinds of things, they always made her nervous, the only place she liked being the center of attention was on court. But her manager and the rest of her team convinced her to do a few of those, assuring her that publicity like that would be good for whatever she wants to do in the future.

When Lucy finally crossed the threshold of Niall’s LA house (which he insisted was theirs, since they were married and all), all she wanted to do was slide her back down the door and curl into a ball on the floor. She was exhausted. The photoshoot ran longer than she expected, and after that she was interviewed whilst having dinner. The reporter was a middle aged man, not necessarily rude, but a lot of his questions were more like assumptions that rubbed her the wrong way.

She just took off her shoes, when her husband appeared in the hallway, looking all soft in athletic shorts and a long-sleeve shirt, his hair growing longer than usual lately, which Lucy kinda loved. He wasted no time in stepping closer to her and enveloping her in his famous hug, even though she often thought he reserved special tight ones just for her.

“Long day?” he asked, still holding her, her arms wrapped around his waist just as tightly.

She nodded, before admitting, “I actually kinda hated it.” Her words muffled, as she nuzzled her face into Niall’s neck.

He hummed, rubbing her back in order to relax her. “Are you hungry?” He asked, but she shook her head, still making no move to let him go. “How about a bath?”

At last, Lucy pulled away slightly to look at him, her eyes big and appreciative. “Yes, please.”

He planted a sweet kiss on her forehead, squeezed her one last time before letting her go, but not completely, intertwining their fingers and leading her upstairs.

He didn’t ask questions, sensing her mood, mostly her tiredness, and simply falling into step with her actions. She went to the sink to remove her makeup, hating not being able to do that right after the last photo was taken, finding the professional make up to be way too much for her. Niall started filling up the tub, adding her favourite salt and scented oil. He truly knew the way to her heart.

“Do you want some tea? Wine?” he asked, turning towards her, their eyes meeting in the mirror, the bathroom filled with the sound of the running water.

“That apple and cinnamon tea?”

Niall nodded at her request. “Coming right up.”

He made a move to leave, but she grabbed his forearm, keeping him in place.

“Stay for a minute, please? It’ll get cold before I’m done with this mess,” she said motioning to her face and hair, which was pinned up, mentally cringing at just the thought of the amount of hairspray that went into it.

To be honest, the main reason behind her plea was just the need for his company, which she thought he must have sensed, because he linked his arms around her waist from behind and planted a kiss on her neck, before stepping back and perching on the edge of the tub.

“Was today awful, then?” he asked, giving her his full attention and concern.

“Well..” Lucy hesitated for a second. “No, not really awful, just…” she sighed, trying to explain it the best she could without complaining too much or sounding ungrateful at the opportunities she had. “The photoshoot was fine, I don’t love those stuff, but the clothes were amazing and everyone was super nice, just quite tiring though. But the interview…” She trailed off, rubbing particularly hard at her eye to remove the fake lashes.

“What happened?” Niall asked, biting his lip nervously. Lucy got her bad days, everyone did sometimes, but she was usually cool and collected, burying herself under a blanket and putting on a feel-good movie or a tv show, preferably cuddling into Niall’s body as well. She didn’t like getting her frustration out, she did that only while working out or playing.

“I’m just so irritated, baby,” she let out an exasperated sigh, giving up on washing her face for a minute and turning towards Niall. “I knew there has always been a lot of unfairness in treatment of men and women in sports, you know, and I’m not even talking about money, just all those headlines, with us it’s always the most unflattering picture on the front page, we’re always criticised about our looks and outfits first, don’t even get me started on the Serena’s catsuit debacle, banning that was just so wrong. Men don’t get that. When a tournament starts people wonder how they’ll perform, not what they’ll wear.” She shook her head, trying to not raise her voice, even though she felt like annoyance and anger were seeping out of her body. “Do you know what’s the question I’ve been asked the most since January?” Lucy asked, but didn’t really wait for Niall’s response, even though he gave her a small shrug. “Whether I’m pregnant. Because apparently that is the only plausible explanation for retiring. Like… How would that even work?” she asked, throwing her arms out in exasperation. “I’m playing my last tournament in September, do they expect me to play heavily pregnant then? Or with a baby on my hand and a racket in the other? What the fuck even is this bullshit?” She was talking fast, all her questions rhetorical, although Niall wouldn’t even dare to interrupt her when she was on a roll like that. “Men don’t have to endure any of it, everyone just automatically assumes it’s a health thing or whatever. With us it’s just constant speculation about our love and family life. And just… Fuck that, I’m honestly so done with this.” She turned towards the sink once more, going back to washing her face, like she was truly done with the topic. She didn’t even expect any reassuring words or anything from Niall, just needed to let her feelings out and vent to someone.

Niall was quiet for a moment, all he could do while she was speaking was look at her with wide eyes and a pull in his heart. She was agitated, angry and annoyed, but there was also so much passion in her words. So much care, not even for her, but for the number of women that had to endure it all as well. He always knew she was superhuman, but in that moment he was even more aware of that. He truly felt for her, just as much as he was in awe of her brain, her compassion and her strength.

He kept his head down for a second, thinking about her words, contemplating how he could possibly help, whether it was even possible. It was usually Niall who got riled up and went on a rant, not Lucy, so it was a new situation, one he wasn’t completely sure how to navigate, but he couldn't say he liked it. Seeing her this annoyed and agitated made his heart give a painful squeeze inside his chest, having this instant need to protect her and make it all better. It wasn’t a very familiar feeling for him, knowing how strong and independent his wife was, sometimes pointing those kinds of injustice, like when she saw a picture of a fellow female player to go with the article, but it was purposely chosen to be a photo with her skirt flying up, or when she saw comments online how “disgusting” it is when women scream on court after a good (or bad) point, but when the men do that they’re just “passionate”. She shared her thoughts about that with Niall, but never let it truly bother her. But this time, it seemed like she had had enough. And he couldn’t really blame her.

He stood up and pulled her into a hug once again, knowing he was in no position to fix the world, but hoping to at least make his wife feel better.

“I’m sorry. Men are dicks,” he said, which made Lucy laugh. It was a real laugh, the sound coming straight from her belly and making Niall smile instantly, just getting that reaction out of her, which was exactly what he was hoping to achieve.

“They really are sometimes,” she agreed, her face all lit up now, finally free of any make up, her eyes regaining their usual spark.

This was his wife, Niall thought, the most beautiful woman in the world, just like that, with her face slightly red after the wash, her hair still in a perfect up-do and her eyes telling him all of her secrets. In moments like that, he could not believe just how lucky he was.

Lucy pulled him in for a kiss, before patting his shoulder and letting him know he can go get her that tea now. There was no need for more words, she knew she had his support, he wasn’t merely a listener, if she asked him, he would do whatever she wanted. But it wasn’t that kind of situation. The patriarchy could not be changed by him, nor her, so she just tried to let it go, already feeling lighter by sharing those burdening thoughts. Tea and a bath in the company of her husband ended up being her safe haven, and that was all she needed.

July 2025

As Lucy fell down, her back hitting the grass, she could not believe what had just happened. There was no way it was real. Apparently, she just won Wimbledon. Fucking Wimbledon. The most prestigious tennis tournament that ever existed. The one in her home country. The one she always wanted to win, but didn’t think she’d actually manage to. It was a dream she let go already. And now it was a reality.

The whole stadium was so loud, she could barely hear her own thoughts. She sat up and saw her opponent coming towards her with a smile. Naomi was the closest person she had to a friend out of other players and she was very appreciative that they could compete at such monumental occasions, there was something special about sharing those moments with someone you not only had respect for, but also genuinely liked.

“That was fantastic, congratulations,” Naomi said earnestly as they hugged.

“It was a great game, you gave me hell,” Lucy said, at which they both laughed.

She spent a minute taking a bow and thanking the crowd, before she went closer to the stand to get to her people. She started up the stairs until she got to her player’s box, where there was a small door on the side, it was installed a few years back, after multiple players went jumping up and climbing the box, now it was much easier. It was only a moment before she was engulfed in a hug by her dad who sat the closest, her mum putting her arms around them a second later, turning it into a three way hug. Lucy could not keep the tears at bay any longer, she could hear her parents saying kind and loving words into her ears, but she was so emotional, still in a state of absolut shock, she wasn’t able to really process them. They let her go after a minute and all she had to do was take one step to be wrapped in her husband’s arms and crying on his shoulder.

“You mad, mad woman,” Niall whispered with a laugh, followed by a few kisses on her cheek, right by her ear, rubbing a calming hand over her back.

She stayed in his arms for probably way too long, seeing as there were thousands of people watching them and even more in front of the telly, the whole thing being broadcasted all around the world. But she didn’t care, she needed Niall, his presence always calming, his amazing hug and the smell of his cologne mixed with a bit of sweat from sitting in the sun feeling like home.

When she pulled away slightly, his eyes were shining. It always amazed her with how much love and pride he could look at her. Even though she usually looked at him the exact same way. She planted a simple peck on his lips before squeezing his arms with a smile and moving along to hug her coach, Mia and Natalia, Niall’s mum who, for three years now, has been coming to London for the two weeks during which the tournament took place to watch her play, then Lucy high fived the rest of the people in her box, including her manager, Niall’s cousin and best mate and their friends, Laura and Iain.

She could stay up there forever, sharing smiles and hugs with the people she cared about, but she had a trophy to pick up, after all. She actually probably took a bit too long already, because as soon as she was back down on court, she was hurried to the side to give a little speech before they presented her with a trophy. But they could wait for her, after all, she was the champion.

~~

“Shit, Niall!” Lucy called out, which prompted her husband to come out of the bathroom running a towel through his wet hair, while the other was wrapped around his waist. “I just won Wimbledon. Do you know what that means?”

He looked at her with an arched brow, like she was mental. “Um.. A lot, I guess? I don’t know what you’re on about, love,” he chuckled.

She threw her head in laughter, looking absolutely beautiful lying on the bed, in a shirt of his, her skin slightly tanned against the white sheets, her body tired, but her eyes bright with glee.

“Well, yeah, but first of all, that means I’m going to be a member of The All England Club, which is super cool and basically I’ll be able to go there to train or just play or hang out and I’ll probably be invited to matches at Wimby in the future.” Her eyes, despite tiredness, were shining.

“You’ll get a plus one ticket, right?” he asked, draping his hair towel over the chair and stepping closer to where she was. “Does being your husband make me like an honorary member or something?”

“Mmm I don’t think so, babe. You might have to win the tournament for that,” she giggled, when he grabbed her calf and made a move to tickle her, but didn’t actually go through with it. “But I will probably get two tickets, so you’re lucky I like you. But the second super fun part is that there’s the Champions’ Dinner going on tomorrow night. And seeing as I’m a fricking champion,” she said with a huge grin, the words still sounding unreal, “we’re invited.” Her face momentarily changed into one of horror. “Oh fuck, Niall!” she exclaimed, completely horrified. “I don’t have anything to wear! What the hell, how am I supposed to get a dress in less than a day?”

Niall’s shoulders shook with silent laughter at how terrified she looked. “Well, you’ve got quite a few dresses you could wear.”

“Niall!” Lucy reached for the pillow to hit him with, but he was too quick, grabbing it before it made contact and throwing it on the other side of the bed, still laughing. “It’s The Champions’ Dinner! It’s a big thing. I can’t just wear any old dress,” she explained, her eyes narrowed.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” he leaned towards her to peck her lips, before going back into the bathroom. He came back a minute later wearing a fresh pair of pants and shutting off the light after himself. “Oh wait,” he stopped in his tracks, looking at her with furrowed brows, “what about the dress you got for The Brits?”

“Ohhh that’s a good idea!” she exclaimed, grinning automatically. She did more smiling today than any other time, her cheeks actually started to ache earlier. “Do you think it’ll be alright?”

“It’s a gown, right?” he asked, shrugging. “And from what I remember it’s really pretty.”

“Yeah, you’re a bit of a genius,” she admitted, looking at him appreciatively. “I knew there was a reason why I married you.”

“Yeah, cheers,” he sniggered with fake offence, sitting at his side of the bed, with his back to his wife and reaching for his phone.

Lucy watched him fumble with it for a bit, probably responding to some messages, before she got up to her knees and crawled over to him, putting her arms around his torso from behind.

“You okay? Seemed pretty quiet during dinner,” she said quietly, putting her chin on his shoulder and looking at the side of his face. After she was done with a press conference and one or two more interviews after her win, they went for a celebratory dinner with their families, friends and her team, where surprisingly, Niall wasn’t his usual charming self, talking only when asked, even spacing out a few times.

Niall furrowed his brows slightly and reached to put his phone back on the bedside table. He hummed before speaking. “Yeah, just tired. I also have a bit of a headache, from sitting in the sun, I think.” He looked at her and when she didn’t seem entirely convinced, he planted a sweet kiss on her lips. “Aren’t you tired? Or are you still buzzing with adrenaline? Will you be able to sleep?”

She rested her forehead on his shoulder, not wanting to put distance between them yet. “Still buzzing a bit, but I think once my head hits the pillow, I’ll be out, cause I am genuinely wiped out. I think I’m getting old.”

Niall snickered at that, maneuvering their bodies so they faced each other. “You are most definitely not getting old,” he said, putting both his hands on her cheeks. “Don’t forget that I’m older than you and I am definitely not anywhere near being old.” He gave her another kiss and for a second Lucy felt like he wanted to convey something with it, something he didn’t want to say out loud, but she had no idea what and she didn’t want to push him with questions. So she just kissed him back, trying to somehow transfer all the love she had for him.

~~

The last two days, since Lucy’s Saturday triumph, were crazy. The Champions’ Dinner was the best party she had ever been to, even though she was stressing about the tradition that was Champions’ dance, during which the male and female winners were supposed to dance together, but seeing that the men’s champion was Alexander, her worry almost disappeared, as he was someone she’s known for years, him being a year younger than her, they’ve seen each other around since playing as juniors, he had always been a laugh. It was actually incredibly nice to share that night with him, as they were both first time Wimbledon champions. Other than that, she had quite a few interviews and tv appearances as the champion.

So in the evening, they were sitting on the sofa, eating takeaway, because when they finally got home, none of them felt like cooking.

“Niall, since when do we not talk to each other?” Lucy said putting her plate down, done with the silence, but it was about more than just this moment.

“Hm?” he finally snapped his head up and looked at his wife. He barely said a word since they left the filming studio. He wanted to tag along today, it was his idea, but truth be told, he had been kind of distant since they came back after Wimbledon final. It was like he had been swallowed by his thoughts, engrossed in his own mind.

“You’ve been by my side for the past two days, but it’s like you’re lost inside your own head. And you keep giving me this weird look, last night at dinner and all through today…” Lucy noticed those things right away, having learned his body language and all the different cues after years together. But now, she was tired of waiting for him to speak up and say what is going on in his mind. “And I don’t know what it is, but you’ve never looked at me like that before. And I don’t like it,” she admitted, although she never thought she wouldn’t like the way Niall looked at her, but it was very far from his usual soft gaze. “It’s like you’re thinking something over or having regrets or.. I don’t know,” she shrugged, feeling a bit hopeless. “I don’t want to push you, but I’m worried and I’d just want to know what’s going on. We’re supposed to be open and honest, always. So please, just tell me what’s worrying you, baby.”

Niall hung down his head once again. He knew she’d pick up on his behaviour, the same way he could always tell when her head was spinning with thoughts. And it wasn’t like he had been trying to keep something from her, he just didn’t know what to say, how to breach the topic. However, he wasn’t aware she had been worrying about him like that.

“It’s just…” he started, but paused right away, licking his lips, putting his plate down on the table, eyes focused on his lap, where he started fidgeting with his fingers. “I think that maybe you should reconsider your retirement,” he said after a beat, lifting his head but still not exactly looking at her.

“What? Why?” she said truly confused and shocked. He had her full attention even before, but now she was looking at him with furrowed brows, trying to inspect everything about him, looking for any clues he might give.

“Well, do you not want to play longer?” he asked, eventually meeting her gaze, rubbing his palms over his jeans, because they began to feel clammy. “You know you could, the past two weeks just proved that.”

She was silent for a minute, trying to collect her thoughts, think of a reason why he would want her to keep competing. His eyes were darting around, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to watch her or avoid her gaze.

“Are you having doubts about us?” she asked eventually, starting to mindlessly twist the wedding band on her finger.

“What?” Now he was the one completely thrown off, his brows creasing and nose scrunching, which was an expression he had when he was concentrating, and one of her favourites, but not in this situation. At least the question made him truly look her in the eyes, focus on her.

“Now that we could actually settle down, spend most of the time together and not be constantly scattered around the world, does it scare you?” Lucy elaborated, trying to explain her worry.

“No, fuck, Lulu, why would you think that?” he exclaimed right away, almost offended by her question.

“Well, what am I supposed to think, Niall?” She slightly raised her voice as well. “I thought we were both excited for this, to build more of a home together, to not have to miss each other all the time and say goodbye every other week or month. And now you’re basically saying that maybe I should keep going around the globe playing tennis, being away from you, so what should I think?” She started gesticulating, throwing her hands around a bit, shrugging with that last question.

“It’s not that at all, Jesus,” he huffed, his hand going up to rake through his hair. “I don’t know, maybe you should know I love you, huh? I mean, we are married and all that...” His voice wasn’t particularly loud, none of them were screaming, but they were both clearly agitated, their voices rough, almost piercing.

“Yeah, but that’s all we know. Me travelling 10 months a year, you going back and forth between LA and London, or New York, or touring the globe,” she pointed out. “Trying to have little moments here and there, but not being together all year round. Probably not even half of it. And maybe that’s not what you want, maybe you didn’t think about it, when you asked me to marry you. I don’t know,” her voice was becoming more and more thick with emotions, but now that she had all those horrible, scary thoughts in her head, she couldn’t stop it.

“Stop!” he blurted, not even loudly, but sternly, which made Lucy snap out of her spinning state. “Okay? Just stop saying those things,” his face was contorted, almost like he couldn’t listen to the things she had been saying, like he was in pain because of her words. “What about the months when your knee was fucked up? Didn’t we spend every day together then? Was I running away scared? Did I not love having you home? How can you even… Fuck!” Both his hands were in his hair, tagging frustratingly. He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath, before speaking again, this time much more calmly. “Let’s not even go there, okay? Cause it’s not about that, at all. I’d love nothing more than to have you with me as much as possible. You’ve got to know that, Lulu.” That last sentence was let out as a plea, which made Lucy’s heart squeeze painfully inside her chest.

She did know that, of course she did. And yet, she didn’t know how else she could explain his earlier statement.

“Well, then what is it? Why do you think I should reconsider?” she asked, not wanting to guess again, her first theory leading them into a fight.

“Because you just won fucking Wimbledon, Lulu!” Niall shouted, his hands flying up. He wasn’t necessarily angry, but his voice was a humourless laugh.

“Yeah, I know, I was there,” she said with a smile, not really bothered by his outburst. “It was pretty great, but I still don’t see your point, baby.”

He just screamed at her, but right now she was nothing but calm and level headed. He calmed her worst fears that came with his question, so she wasn’t stressed anymore. But he was exasperated, so it was her turn to get rid of any worries he clearly had.

He took another deep breath, Lucy scooted closer to him on the couch, reaching for his hand and tracing figures on his palm in support and reassurance.

“It was your biggest dream, you always said so. And now you’ve done it and you’re just gonna quit playing two months later?” Niall finally asked in disbelief, looking closely at her, as if searching for something, any trace of hesitation. “Don’t you think of other things you could still achieve? What about French Open? Don’t you want to have all the Slams?”

“Niall,” she said so tenderly, all his previous anger just evaporated hearing her voice like that. She put a hand on his cheek to make sure he will hear her every word and see her true intentions and feelings. “Yeah, I won Wimbledon. It was amazing and I never thought it would actually happen. Do I think I could have another big win? Yeah, maybe,” she admitted with a shrug, at which Niall opened his mouth to speak, but she simply put slightly more pressure on his cheek and continued. “But there’s also no guarantee it will happen. And I don’t want to spend another year or two or three or however long, chasing something that I don’t need. I haven’t managed to win French in the ten years I’ve been playing, so what’s to say I’ll win it now? I’m not the best on clay and that’s okay. Sure, it would have been incredible to win all four Slams. But I want to appreciate the success I had, not think of something I maybe could have had. I achieved way more than I ever dreamt of. So that’s more than enough for me.”

Her words were as earnest as possible, her eyes not leaving his, the corner of her lips gently tugged upwords. She really meant every word and a part of Niall already knew that, but his mind still wasn’t put at ease, he felt like his head had been spinning with too many thoughts since Saturday. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy about her winning, if there was anyone rooting for Lucy, it was always Niall, he took more pleasure from her successes than his own. But this one came with a lot of doubts.

“I just…,” Niall pulled away slightly, feeling the need to put a bit of distance between them for his next words. He kept his one hand inside hers, but the other tugged at his hair frustratedly. “I don’t want you to wake up someday and regret it. And resent me or our life together or our kids for not playing longer, for not going for more. Cause it would break my heart, Lulu, I don’t think I could live with that thought,” he finally said his biggest worry out loud, his eyes beginning to cloud.

Lucy gasped at his confession. The fact that Niall may have that worry didn’t even cross her mind. She was baffled, instantly feeling sick knowing that he’s been turning it over in his head for two days, when her stomach turned upside down just at the thought.

She squeezed his hand to bring his attention back to her, her own eyes filling up with tears. “Hey, come on, I could never ever resent you. Or our potential future children. I love you, baby,” her voice almost broke at the end and Niall didn’t even wait a second before enveloping her into a hug. She instantly climbed into his lap, hiding her face in his chest, breathing in his scent, before pulling away slightly to continue talking. “And even after winning, the thought to keep playing hasn't even crossed my mind. Which just means I’m ready to go.”

He looked at her, in his arms, both of them keeping eye contact, as if trying to look into each other’s souls or send an unspoken message.

Niall sighed after a minute, unwinding one of his hands from around her waist to run it over his face and rub his eyes.

“I just kept watching you being so happy these past days, and you’ve been asked about it in every interview and just…” he shook his head lightly, trying to take comfort in a hand she was rubbing over his arm and not get riled up again. “I’d never want to hold you back, I hope you know that.”

Lucy bit her lip, her heart soaring and aching at the same time. She was overwhelmed by the amount of love he had for her. There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that he would sacrifice everything for her own happiness. If only she wanted him to. It was bewildering to know that someone loved you this much. So much it was almost incomprehensible.

She licked her lips, thinking over her answer. She knew Niall had nothing to worry about, that his doubts weren’t even a possibility to her, but she didn’t want to make him feel silly, as it was a genuine concern that he was entitled to. Just because she knew there was absolutely no way that what he was worried about would ever happen, didn’t mean he was wrong for worrying about it. But now it was her job to make those doubts go away.

She grabbed his neck and spoke with a voice so confident that it’d hopefully get rid of all his doubts. “Yeah, they kept asking about it, but what did I say to that, hm? Every time they asked me about it, what did I say?” she looked at him expectantly until he sighed with defeat.

“That you’re incredibly excited for your life outside the court,” he said, pulling her closer, no space left between their bodies now.

“And?” she asked, a smile forming on her lips.

“And that you look forward to spending time with your husband,” he answered, his face finally mirroring hers, the furrow in his brows disappearing, his lips turning upwards.

“And I meant that,” she said earnestly, sealing her words with a kiss on his lips. “Cause I do want to focus on other things. I want to go on tour with you, watch you pour your heart out in front of thousands of people every night and wait for a sweaty hug right off the stage, like you do whenever you watch me play.” At that his smile grew wider, his nose crinkling cutely. “And I want to start working outside the court, maybe even have my hand in training another British Wimbledon champion, who knows,” she laughed at that prospect, because it barely seemed real, but Niall squeezed her waist as if to let her know it doesn’t have to be a joke. “I want to have a somewhat normal house life and yeah, have some children with you,” she shrugged, both of them looking at each other with admiration. “That’s what I’m most excited about right now. Besides, you know my knee’s been starting to act up and I don’t want to risk it getting worse. And I’d hate to have to quit because of an injury, I want to go on my own terms.”

Niall didn’t want to dwell on it any longer, so he focused on the latter part of her speech. “Do you think our child could be a Wimbledon champion? Could you actually imagine it?” he asked with a grin, probably already imagining little blond haired versions of themselves running around with tennis rackets in their hands.

Lucy laughed. “Well, I’d say our child could be anyone they’d want. Even Wimbledon champion.” She leaned in for a much needed kiss, but all he gave her was a peck, his head apparently filled with thoughts he just had to share now.

“That would be quite sick, actually.” His eyes were shining while looking at her, not even really focused, like he was picturing their future. “Mummy and daughter. Or son. Maybe you could even present the trophy!” He got so excited, Lucy could do nothing but laugh. How did they go from nearly fighting to making their potential child a champion, she didn’t know, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. “No, but seriously, would you be okay with our child playing? Professional? Would you like to be a coach?” He turned serious, focusing on her once more to gauge her reaction.

“If they wanted to play, of course I’d be fine with it. I’d worry and warn them about things, but I wouldn’t stop or discourage them. But I would not train them. I mean, I might be like a co-coach. Or an advisor.” How he coaxed her into actually discussing it, she did not know, but it was a power of his, making her want to do anything that got him this happy and excited. “But I wouldn’t be able to draw a line between being a mum and a coach. I’ve seen a lot of this on tour, and it’s not always bad, but not everyone is right for that. I know I’m not,” she admitted, shrugging. “But I would never push our children to play tennis. Okay, I might teach them how to play, but like for fun, not as a career.”

To Niall it didn’t seem possible that there was something his wife wouldn’t be able to do. She was a super human.

“I think once they see how awesome you were on court, they might want to be just like mummy,” he said with a grin, pinching her waist playfully.

“Well, let’s hope they won’t aspire to be like daddy,” she chuckled.

“Heeeeeey,” Niall whined with mock offense.

“Get bras and knickers thrown at them on stage.”

“Hahahaha, it’s not actually the best feeling,” he admitted.

“Okay, let’s stop this talk about children, before you get any actual ideas, because I do still have a few tournaments to play and whatnot.” She patted his chest and made a move to climb off his lap, but he only tightened his hold on her, not letting her go anywhere.

“But you do want to have some, right? Like, sooner than, let’s say, ten years from now?” He asked, genuinely curious as they never discussed it properly. Children had been mentioned here and there, but nothing more deliberate.

“Yeah, I do.” She nodded, a gentle smile gracing her lips.

“Okay. ‘Cause I want that too.” He leaned down to kiss her, properly this time, releasing all the earlier insecurities and frustrations into the kiss.

When their lips parted, Lucy combed her fingers through his hair, before speaking again, the subject of children bringing another thing to the front of her mind. “But first, I was actually thinking of buying a new house,” she admitted. “We talked about it when we got engaged and I think I’d actually want one now. I love this one, but I don’t know, I’d kinda like to get a new one, start a proper home once I’m done.”

She loved the home they were in now, it was the place where most of the important moments happened in their relationship, with Niall having it since before they even started dating. It was here where he said he loved her for the first time. He asked her to marry him here. They came back home to each other time and time again here. But it also wasn’t exactly ideal. The problem was never the fact that it was theoretically his house, not theirs. It just wasn’t a house she wanted to grow old in. She loved it, but it wasn’t theirs, not in the sense of ownership, but in a scene of making it personal. She also wanted a space that would truly be theirs, from the beginning, where none of them ever lived alone.

But it seemed like she didn’t have to even try to explain it to him, his face lighting up with a soft smile, planting a kiss on her cheek before speaking. “Yeah. I actually love that idea.”

~~~~~~

Lucy was able to stay home in London for over two weeks, before she had to travel to Montreal. It made her more than happy because it meant she was with Niall for One Direction's fifteenth anniversary, which was also the day the news about the band’s comeback were being released, with their new single coming out two days later. The announcement was planned to go out at 8pm UK time, but they all decided to have dinner and spend that evening together, meeting at Louis and Eleanor’s house. When they arrived, Liam and his wife, Maya were already there, Harry and Ines, his girlfriend of three years, arriving only a few minutes later. They’ve met like that before quite a few times, sometimes with Louis’ and Liam’s kids running around, so Lucy was more than acquainted with everyone, feeling completely at ease.

Even though the meal was delicious, they were all so excited and nervous, they couldn’t even sit still. Lucy noticed Niall’s knee bouncing two minutes after they sat at the table, putting her hand on his tight to at least try and calm him down.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can do this, can we tell the world now?” Louis whined, throwing his head back exasperatedly.

“I am honestly so stressed right now,” Harry joined in.

There was no missing of the group’s anxiety, everyone looking around, checking the time every few minutes.

“The food is delicious, but I think I might actually throw up,” Liam said, his body slacking against the chair.

“How about some stronger drinks to calm down? Or shots?” Eleanor proposed, all of them drinking beer or wine with dinner.

There was an instant chorus of agreement, Louis getting up to fix the drinks. They all moved from the table to lounge on the couches, none of them able to stomach any more food, no sounds in the room other than the soft music playing in the background and a quiet murmur of a few words shared between them.

“Okay, let’s do it!” Louis exclaimed, coming back with a tray full of shots.

“Cheers!” The boys said in unison once everyone grabbed a glass. The alcohol burned Lucy’s throat, her eyes screwing shut for a minute.

“Another one?” Niall proposed, not even a second later.

Lucy shook her head, watching her alcohol intake, as always when she was in the middle of the season, Maya also refused, but everyone else downed another glass, leaving two full ones meant for the girls. Liam and Niall looked at each other, before shrugging their shoulders at exactly the same time and grabbing another glass.

“How much longer?” Ines asked, looking around in search of some clock.

“Twenty eight minutes,” Niall replied after checking his watch.

“Oh, I can’t believe I almost forgot, congrats on Wimbledon once again, Lucy, that was absolutely amazing,” Maya said with a smile.

Everyone in the room either texted or called her or Niall on the day she won, but that acknowledgement face to face was nice.

“Thank you, it was crazy,” she gave a grateful smile, after everyone added their congrats, Niall throwing an arm around her shoulders to bring her closer. She caught the proud look he was giving her and put a hand on his knee in an appreciative manner.

“Do you think we could come watch you play in the US Open?” Harry asked, redirecting his attention to Niall right after. “We’re free then, right?”

“Yeah, I made sure of that,” he confirmed proudly.

“Umm…” Lucy hesitated for a second, trying to explain how it works. “Yeah, I can get you tickets, no problem, it’s just hard to plan it a little bit, because I don’t know how deep I’ll go.” She didn’t want them to be bored at the first round match, but she also couldn’t predict when her last match would be. It still felt surreal, that she would play her last game in less than two months.

“How incredible would it be if you won that one too?” Liam asked with a grin.

“Mental,” Louis agreed.

“I reckon she could do it,” said Eleanor, looking at Lucy with confidence.

Because their bodies were touching, Lucy could easily feel Niall’s body tensing in reaction to the conversation, the memory of their recent fight still fresh in both of their minds. She didn’t turn her head to get a better look at him, but squeezed his knee as a reminder that it wouldn’t change anything for her.

“Don’t bet any money on me, though”, she laughed, before changing the subject. “Are you walking any fashion weeks this year, Maya?”

While she listened to the answer, Niall reached for her hand splayed on his knee, slotting their fingers together in a silent thank you. That’s how they spent the next couple of minutes, trying to keep conversation going, Louis making sure everyone had a drink in their hand. There was a nervous tension in the room, even though they knew what would happen, all the posts queued up, the reaction they would get was a question mark. They could only hope, basing their expectations on previous love they always got from their fans. But it had been years and things changed, yet it was impossible to prepare for disappointment.

“Oh shit, just one more minute,” Louis said, looking at the time on his phone.

“Let’s count it down!” Ines proposed.

So they did, the last ten seconds, just like on New Year’s Eve. To think of it, there were some similarities, looking forward to something new, things changing, entering a new era almost. When they came to zero, you could almost hear a pin drop. It only took a second for all of the guys’ phones to go off, indicating one notification after the other. They were all stood in a circle, their respective better halves right next to them. Lucy had her arm around Niall’s waist, looking through his shoulder to read some of the comments, the whole world starting to freak out. There wasn’t one person in the room who didn’t have a huge grin on their faces. The women look proudly at their men, knowing how hard they worked, how much love and passion they put into the band. It seemed like all the guys looked up at each other at the same moment, taking deep breaths and stepping closer to wrap one another in their famous four way hug. Eleanor wrapped her arm around Lucy’s shoulder, who looked at the other woman happily, noticing tears pulling in her eyes. She reached her other hand for Ines, who also grabbed Maya and they just stood like that for a minute. The band squeezing each other and whispering excitedly among themselves, while their lovers embraced as well, forming their own little group, looking at their loved ones with so much awe, their eyes glistening with emotion.

After a minute, Harry pulled slightly away, looking behind him at the women. “Come on, get in here, girls,” he said, beckoning them over.

So they joined them, each one next to their man, Lucy squeezed between Niall and Ines. They were all holding each other tightly, a one of a kind bond. There was no comparing it to what those four guys had, but they all felt like family. They were all connected and none of them would have it any other way, forming genuine friendships they all cherished.

Niall twisted his head to the side to kiss Lucy on the crown of her head, before she turned her head as well to meet him in a proper kiss. They were both so happy, they couldn’t stop smiling, their teeth clicking against each other. But they were just so ecstatic. There were no words to describe the feeling. And Niall’s happiness was through the roof, because he was so appreciative to share that moment with Lucy. Nothing could beat having her with him, being able to share it, because it felt like a once in a lifetime thing. Having her to support him and calm him down when needed, and now to share that joy with her. He truly felt like, if she wasn’t there beside him, he wouldn’t be as happy as he was. And maybe that was wrong, maybe he shouldn’t feel like that, but he did. Because his wife made everything better. It was that simple. Seeing her proud and smiling, made the whole situation better. Sharing anything with the people you love makes it better. Whether it’s sadness, problems, successes or happiness. And there was no better thing to share than love.

September 2025

It was impossible to prepare for a moment like this, Lucy thought finally walking back into the hotel room in New York. It was after 3am. She finished playing, her last professional match ever, about an hour and a half ago. Even after the little goodbye ceremony after her loss and a press conference, it still didn’t feel completely real. She had quite a few of those farewell moments, almost at every tournament she played this year. She knew what was coming, after all she made that decision in December. Maybe it was because she didn’t know which match would be her last, didn’t know how far she'd go, just happy with every win she got.

She felt such a mixture of emotions, it was hard to wrap her head around it all. The goodbye she got was amazing, the organizers playing a little video of all the years she competed, including her triumph on Flashing Meadows, and messages from fellow players. She felt a bit sad, but she always did when she lost. A bit proud, because she didn’t go without a fight, the match an over two hour, three sets battle. Excited because a part of her was waiting for that moment, when she’ll be able to truly think about the future and focus on upcoming projects. But most of all, she was simply appreciative. That she had such a good season, that she was able to play every tournament she wanted, that she gave it her all and was able to keep playing on a good level, that after finishing this last game, she was able to look out into the crowd (who was giving her a standing ovation) and not only see Niall, but also her parents, Mia, Harry, Liam and Maya.

Once the door to their hotel room closed, Lucy was exhausted. She had a quick shower right after the match, so technically she could go straight to bed, but her mind was buzzing.

“Lulu,” Niall said, leaving his shoes by the door and walking up to her, his hands going to her waist immediately, to bring her close to him, “how are you feeling?”

Lucy rested her head on his chest, quiet for a moment, trying to make sense of her mumbled thoughts. “I… I’m feeling good?” she said, but it sounded more like a question. “It’s… surreal, still. Maybe ask me tomorrow?”

“Of course.” He cemented his words with a caring kiss to the crown of her head.

“But I’m okay, really,” she assured him. “Kinda sad, kinda happy. Relieved?” Her answer was more like a question again, like she was looking for a right answer, but wasn’t sure if it was one. “I don’t know, it doesn’t really seem like it’s the end yet, you know, that I won’t play like this again.”

He hummed, thinking for a quick second before asking another question, “are you going to miss it?”

“Yeah, probably,” she shrugged. “It’s going to be weird, not having to train, no tournaments to prepare for or look forward to. But it’ll be fun to see what’s ahead, you know? Slow down a bit, maybe, explore other things in life. And spend time with you, obviously. Watch you and the band. It’s gonna be good, baby.”

“Will you miss your team?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. But I hope we’ll keep in touch. Maybe work together again, you know, if I open that training centre or if we get someone to manage… Who knows.”

He nodded, “I’m really proud of you, you know? I’m in awe of your decision, to do things your way.”

“Thank you. It was the right call, I can tell. The next few months will be weird, I’m sure, but it’ll be worth it. I’m actually really excited to see what’s to come.”

Tennis was all she knew. In a way, it became her routine. Sure, there were some tournaments changes, but it was also pretty much the same for years upon years, ten months of traveling, playing here and there, hard court, clay, grass, then hard court again. A quick vacation after that before going back to training full force to prepare for the next season. Over and over again. And now, thinking about the future might have been scary, but it was also nice to do something new. Have a fresh mind. Have an option of doing something else, an opportunity to just travel by Niall’s side for a bit. To focus on something other than tennis. To explore what else she might be good at.

“Oh, could you maybe ask Harry and Liam to join us for dinner on Thursday? With the girls, of course. Louis is still in California, right?” She was pretty sure she mentioned something about it when they talked after the match, but her tiredness and emotions made it hard to focus. She also asked her manager to actually organise it, make a reservation at the restaurant and all, so she didn’t know any specifics yet.

“Of course, don’t worry, they know it’s happening, I’ll send them the details in the morning. And yes, Tommo is still there, he’s meeting us in LA.”

They had a few more days off, the guys had to be in Los Angeles on Monday to do some promo for their reunion and second single, Niall made sure to book time off for all two weeks of the US Open, but because she had lost in the quarterfinals, it was just Tuesday, well, very early hours of Wednesday, giving them some time to relax.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?” he proposed, planting another kiss on her head, her arms still tight around his waist, her cheek pressed to his body, so close she could feel his heartbeat underneath it.

She shook her head slightly, pulling away to look at him. “I can’t, my mind is spinning. I need it to stop first.” She put one of her hands up to tread through his hair, before cradling his cheek. She then raised up onto her tiptoes to join their lips, the kiss starting slow, but growing more passionate with every lick into his mouth. Her hand travelling under his shirt and the other going back to his hair to tug at it slightly, let him know exactly what she meant. “Are you too tired?” she asked parting for a second to catch her breath, before moving to work on the delicious skin of his neck.

Seeing his wife like that always did things to Niall. It wasn’t even about her having very clear intentions, but how he knew she wanted him to take care of her. How she needed him. Lucy was an absolute beast on court, Niall’s favourite text to send her before a match was “go get them, tiger”. But after the game was finished, especially after a tough battle, she was nothing but gentle. In desperate need of hugs, kisses and someone to take care of her. It wasn’t the first time they had sex in a situation like that, her needing to quiet her thoughts, but also to give up control, after having been so focused and alone on court.

And right now was no different, she wanted to get lost in Niall, needing the quiet only he could bring her.

“Never too tired to help you,” he assured, grabbing her neck gently to pull her lips back to his. To Niall, there was no bigger compliment than this, this incredible woman not only counting on him, but giving herself to him completely, body and soul.

And as he grabbed her thighs to pick her up and carry her to the bed, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind, that he would take care of her. In the best possible way.

taglist: @stylishmuser​ @verorax​ @georgiahoranxx​ @exoticniall​

[pixelgrotto]

A look at D&D’s Curse of Strahd

From about October 2018 to August 2019, I led a group of four friends through Curse of Strahd, the latest campaign book featuring a dive into the realm of Dungeon & Dragon’s most famous vampire, Strahd von Zarovich. It went well, and it was an interesting experience for me as a Dungeon Master, since this was my first time using one of Wizards of the Coast’s official modules. In the past I’ve always come up with my own homebrew adventures, and I still homebrewed a good chunk of Curse of Strahd, remixing characters and formulating story twists on the fly once I learned the ebb and flow of my group.

One of the things I love most about D&D, however, is that such behavior is encouraged, and pretty much all of the major 5th Edition releases outright tell DMs that they shouldn’t hesitate to make a campaign “their own” by only following the book when necessary. Thus, the version of Curse of Strahd that my players ran through was an experience specifically tailored to them - one where a motley crew known as the “Well-Doners” (like a well done steak...or a stake to the heart of a vampire!) were sucked into Strahd’s strange valley of Barovia and forced to ally together for the sake of survival...aided by a few key comrades, including a funny gnome mage who’d lost his magical mojo, the reincarnation of Strahd’s lost love, a grumpy monster hunter and a massive ranger and his dwarf wife. If I ever run Curse of Strahd again for another group, it’s very likely that many of these key comrades - as well as the general crux of the adventure - will turn out completely different.

To all enterprising DMs who might wish to run Curse of Strahd for their own groups, it’s worth first noting that this is very much a Ravenloft campaign. Ravenloft is the setting that sprouted from the 1983 module of the same name, originally devised by Tracy and Laura Hickman and then expanded upon during the heyday of D&D 2nd Edition. In a nutshell, it’s D&D’s horror setting, and the horror is very much steeped in the gothic tradition, with a heavy dollop of foes inspired by the Universal Monster Movies of the 1920s to 50s, sprinkles of Eastern European creepiness and a dash or two of dark romance to complete the mix. I quite like this combination because it reminds me of the melancholy yet deeply beautiful world of Mordavia in Quest for Glory IV: Shadows of Darkness, one of the formative experiences of my youth and a game that has a great soundtrack for the backdrop of any Ravenloft campaign. (Interestingly, Quest for Glory creators Lori and Corey Cole were D&D players before they went on to design computer games, which means that the gothic realm of Mordavia surely is a clear descendant of Ravenloft.)

But horror of any variety isn’t necessarily everyone’s cup of tea, and certain parts of Curse of Strahd - if run straight from the book - can veer quite sinister, because Barovia is ultimately a crappy place presided over by a crappy undead warlord. The introductory adventure of the module, dubbed “Death House,” actually deals with ghostly children who’ve died of starvation in a haunted manor due to the cultist ways of their mad parents. It’s entirely possible to make these kids untrustworthy antagonists in order to emphasize that the Ravenloft setting simply does not mess around, but since I was running this campaign for a group of four new players whose prior experience with D&D ran the gamut from limited to absolutely zero, I decided to make them into a spooky but still likable duo who could “possess” the players’ characters and offer sassy running commentary on the monsters infiltrating the manor. Like Casper but with a tad more snark, in other words - and the endearing nature of the children made the moment where my players had to lay their corpses to rest and confront their sad origins all the more compelling.

This act of balance - between ensuring that players recognize this as a dark adventure but also making sure that just enough light and humor alleviates the depression - is one that I tried to perform during every session of our game, and I’d encourage future Curse of Strahd DMs to do the same. I’d also encourage enterprising Dungeon Masters to perform a similar balancing act on the monsters and scenarios that permeate the adventure - specifically on the ones in the Death House opener as well as Strahd himself.

Death House, more specifically, is described in the book as a means to help the party quickly progress from levels 1 to 3, but played as is, it’s quite possible for players to get absolutely curb-stomped by everything within the manor - particularly a “final boss” that they’re technically not supposed to engage with, at least in a fair manner. Veteran RPG fans might relish the challenge, which is more reminiscent of Call of Cthulhu than D&D, but newbies might not like having to re-roll a character because their first one got wrecked by a Shambling Mound after only a few hours of play. So, retool Death House to suit the needs of your party - in my case, I limited the encounters somewhat to prevent a steady drip of HP and also gave my players a few tips on how to beat tricky baddies via those aforementioned ghost kids.

The opposite strategy goes for Strahd von Zarovich himself, who might be the big bad of Barovia but is surprisingly squishy when confronted by a hardy group of level 8 or 9 players, especially if they’ve found all the fancy sunlight-shooting artifacts of the adventure that can limit his powers. I can’t count the number of posts I’ve seen on the D&D Reddit or a Curse of Strahd Facebook group I’m in where frustrated DMs have written something like “Strahd was killed by my players within two rounds, where did I go wrong” - and in order to circumvent this from happening in the last session of a shared storytelling experience that had nearly spanned a year, I took a heavy pair of tweezers to Strahd’s stats and gave him three forms, each with their own HP. The first was his regular vampiric self, the second was him riding on his Misty Steed-summoned horse Bucephalus, and the third was basically Strahd going into berserker mode with black angel wings bursting from his back. (I stole the concept art of Satan from Castlevania: Lords of Shadow 2 for that. Worked perfectly!)

Speaking of Castlevania, I drew inspiration from the recent Netflix series - which I’ve written about here and here - when it came to developing Strahd’s actual personality, because even though the book updated his original Bela Lugosi-esque appearance into something more regal and fantasy-inspired, his essence is still something of a two dimensional bad guy, and the fact that one of his eternal missions in undeath is to make the reincarnation of his original lover fall for him is a problematic pill to swallow in 2019, even if it is meant as an ode to Dracula’s obsession with Mina Harker in Bram Stoker’s original novel. And so I decided to make my version of Strahd similar to the depressed, weary-of-life Dracula in Netflix Castlevania, turning him into a vampire of complexities - a guy who’s been immortal for so long that he almost wants the players to kill him, a man who believes he’s entitled to the love of a woman yet somewhere deep down realizes the inherent selfishness of that belief, and a lord who’s grown bored with his kingdom yet can’t quite relinquish the power he’s held over it for centuries. My Strahd, in other words, was still a bad dude, but at least a somewhat deeper bad dude that the cardboard cutout as presented in the book, and one of my players even described him as “a little like Kylo Ren,” which I took as a compliment.

Before I wrap this up, I’d like to return to the concept of the balancing act with regards to the structure and scope of Curse of Strahd, which is a true sandbox adventure. Players are not required to visit half of the locations outlined in the book, and the replayability factor is high, because the various artifacts that you need to defeat Strahd, as well as the specific non-player characters likely to assist you along the way, are dependent on a tarot card reading that occurs near the start of the adventure. The locations that I found the most important for my players were the towns of Barovia and Vallaki, the Wizard of Wines Winery, Yester Hill, Van Richten’s Tower, the Ruins of Berez, and Castle Ravenloft itself. Other groups online swear by Krezk, a third town that my players never bothered to visit (though I would have urged them to go there if we’d had any clerics or paladins in the party, since Krezk is a town with a giant church), and the Amber Temple, the lair where Strahd obtained his undead powers (a place I feel is best suited for players of neutral or evil-leaning alignments). Your mileage may vary, but if you’re going to DM this module, one of the best bits of advice I can give would be to see which locations your players are naturally inquisitive about, and then focus on those. Exploring every nook and cranny of Barovia can quickly turn into a slog otherwise.

With all this in mind, I think it’s time for the so-called “Well-Doners” to leave the world of gothic horror behind for a bit. They’ve somehow managed to find their way back to their home plane and the city of Waterdeep, and only one of the party was infected with a seemingly fatal curse after their stay in Ravenloft. What further quests await, I wonder, and what new campaign book will I hack apart to suit my players’ tastes? That’s for me to know, for them to find out, and for another long blog post examination...sometime in 2020, hopefully!

All photographs taken by me.

[gruvia-raid]

The Strength in Frailty

Chapter 1: Unbreakable

AN: I wrote this story in 2014 but never got around to publishing it. But I just found it again so I thought why mot? This story is set in an AU and doesn't really follow the events in the manga as it was written so long ago and I haven't changed anything in it. I am not a doctor so bare with me LOL.

TW: Cancer and mentions of death

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Fairy Tail nor do I own it's characters. They belong to Hiro Mashima & Co. This story uses coarse language.

Also there is an ableist statement made by the character Bora. This statement in no way reflects the views and/or beliefs of the author. Bora is just a complete a$$ however. if this statement does offend anyone I will change it ASAP.

"I really think you should take a break."

"But Lucy-san, Juvia feels completely fine." Juvia Lockser a beautiful, blue-eyed, pale-skinned preschool teacher whined as her best friend and co-worker Lucy Heartfillia chastised her about taking a break from all the household chores she had tasked herself with.

"But your lungs might-" Lucy persisted before being cut off.

"Juvia is fine Lucy-san, she can handle a few chores. Besides Juvia believes she is getting better, her doctor told her she is making good progress." Juvia smiled. Yes the doctor did indeed say that she was making good progress, but he also said she shouldn't overwork herself as she could possibly collapse once more.

"But, still…" Lucy trailed off as she looked towards her friend worriedly. "You don't have to prepare lunch I can do it or….or we can go out for lunch."

"No, no, no Juvia will cook. Lucy-san is the guest here not Juvia and Lucy-san knows that Juvia doesn't like going out in public, if it's not work related nowadays." Juvia called as she entered the kitchen. Jeez that Lucy always getting nervous over the most trivial things, it's not like she going to run a marathon. Cooking and clean were her area of expertise, no way would she fall ill from something like this.

"Lucy-san forgot to tell Juvia how her date with Natsu-san went." She said as she knew as soon as the topic changed to herself, Lucy would forget all about the previous conversation.

"Ah, oh yes. It started off in a really….unNatsu like way. He was being all gentlemanly, then when it came to the actual eating proportion he was back to his old sel-"

CRASH

"JUVIA!" Lucy cried as she practical sprinted into the kitchen. In there was a sight she had seen many a times, but would never get used too.

There, was Juvia on the floor heaving like there was no tomorrow. And no, it wasn't because she had seen her really hot doctor.

The last thing Juvia heard before she delved into a world of darkness, were the muffled sounds of an ambulance.

St. Vermillion Hospital was bustling as always with people today, as he arrived. It always gave off the smell of sterilizer and almost dead people to the young male doctor.

Gray Fullbuster a young and don't forget handsome, oncologist walked into his workplace with the same facial expression as always. A scowl. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy his line of work, no, in fact he loved it. But hospitals always had a dreary atmosphere. 'Cause either someone had died, was going to die or they felt like they were dying. He rolled his eyes.

What kind of stupid expression was that anyway? Who the hell knew what dying felt like, even if you experienced near death it isn't death. Hence no one knows what it felt like. Correction no one alive knew what it felt like.

"Gray!" The beautiful head nurse Mirajane Strauss called as she beckoned said man over. "Good, you're finally here. Natsu wanted to see you."

"What does the flame idiot want now?" The man inquired as he strolled to the front desk.

"I think it has something to do with one of your patients being admitted." Mira assumed as she scrolled through the day's admittance list.

Gray frowned. "One of my patients were readmitted?" He questioned.

"Yes, um… Miss Juvia Lockser. She came in around 12:50pm, while you were out for lunch."

Gray tsked. Of course she'd be admitted while he was out for lunch. That women never failed with her surprise visits. And why was it Natsu of all people who had to treat her? Now he had to go talk to the flame bastard.

"Alright Thanks, Mira."

"That's what I'm here for. Later Gray" she smiled as she waved him off.

"Oi, Flame Brain" Gray knocked on Natsu Dragneel's a fellow oncologists who specialized more in radioactive oncology, door. He was also Gray's best friend/rival/asshole. Ew not Gray's asshole you pervs, he was just an asshole in general.

The door suddenly flew open, revealing the pink-haired 'idiot'. "What do you want Ice Princess? I'm busy." Natsu Roared. What the hell did this bastard want? Didn't he tell him that no disturbance shall come when he was in 'eating mode'?

Gray rolled his eyes as he peered over Natsu shoulder to expose a desk piled high with cafeteria food and a flustered Lucy Heartfillia sitting on the sofa.

"Ugh, Hi Gray." she nervously uttered. It was sort of awkward. One minute she was crying over Juvia then the next she was whisked into Natsu office to have a very intense make out session. Now Gray interrupts and had seen her in her disheveled stated, with her messy hair, smudged lipstick and a rolled up shirt.

"Hey Lucy." He spoke before turning to Natsu "Busy with what? Trying to woo her with how much food you can fit in your pie hole? 'Cause let me tell yah, that's very unattractive."

"Shut the fuck up Stripperella. I said WHAT. DO. YOU. FUCKING. WANT?"

"Why don't you quiet the fuck down we are in a fucking hospital. For fuck's sake. And you're the one who called me. Something about my patient?"

At that Natsu calmed down, what he wanted to say was a bit upsetting for the women in his office. "Can we talk in your office?" Gray nodded. "I'll be right back Luce, just gunna talk to Gray for a sec, kay?"

"Um, al-alright." Lucy spoke, still a little baffled at the way the doctors in this hospital used the word 'fuck' so loosely.

Shutting the door behind him, Natsu walked two doors down towards Gray's office. It was a bit disorganized with files and clothes littered all over the place, and Natsu thought that his office was bad. Gray's office, much to Natsu chagrin, was nicer than his own, but only because Gray had worked there longer. The walls were burgundy, the mahogany future matching it with a glossy finish. There was a large ceiling to floor window on one wall, which had an abundance of light filtering through, in front of it was a grand desk and chair. On another wall, two long sofas were organized around a glass coffee table which faced a large flat screen t.v. The adjoined wall featured all of Gray's degrees and plaques in both university and medical school. The entire room had a pine tree meets ice berg scent to tie it all together. To conclude Gray's office would be amazingly professional if it weren't for his underwear all over the place.

"Okay, so about your patient Juvia Lockser. She….she isn't doing so well."

A shallow hospital light came into view as Juvia's eyes fluttered open. It took her mind a second to register that she was no longer in her home chatting with Lucy, as she noticed the multiple IVs, electrodes and an oxygen mask coving her nose and mouth.

"Afternoon sleepy head." A husky voice she knew all too well said as he walked through the door.

Removing the mask, "Hello Dr. Fullbuster, what is Juvia doing here?" she queried with a groggy voice.

"Well," Gray started. "It seems you collapsed once again Juvia"

"Oh"

"And I suspect that it was from overworking yourself."

"But Juvia wasn't-"

"Did you attend work today?"

"Yes but-"

"And did you do any sort of unnecessary housework?"

"Juvia only cooked and cleaned but-"

"Juvia," Gray sighed. "How many times must I tell you not to overwork yourself?" he lectured.

"But Juvia's house was filthy a-and she had a guest over so…" she trailed off knowing her excuse was inadequate as the doctor gave her a challenging look.

"I understand that you are a germaphobe however, there are such things as maid services and I'm pretty sure Lucy could have cooked instead, you also could've either ordered something or went out. There were so many options, so why must you always burden yourself?" He nagged as he began to do a routine checkup.

Gray didn't mean to lecture Juvia. He meant well, as her doctor and friend he had her best interests at heart. But the damn woman didn't or maybe couldn't comprehend the fact that she was in no condition to do all these exhausting tasks. If anything, it was her own fault that she was getting worse rather than better. This still troubled Gray however, he quite liked Juvia and if she kept this up he wouldn't be able to help her.

You see, Juvia had a severe condition of Lung cancer. She was admitted as Gray's patient a bit over a year ago when she first collapsed from lack of oxygen, and has been in and out of the hospital ever since. At first Gray was indifferent towards her but a few months later he began to open up to her, as he would a friend. In all honesty it was pretty hard being professional anyway, this girl was always smiling and cheerful anyone would feel at ease with her. It was almost impossible not to laugh when she laughed, and Gray barely laughed, only smiled and chuckled. But her entire being was just so...preciou-infectious, yes infectious.

Gray's thoughts were soon interrupted by a muffled cough. "So, Dr. Fullbuster how is Juvia?"

Gray tried to keep an impassive face but Juvia could see pity and sorrow within his navy blue orbs.

"Well" He ran a hand through his chaotic raven hair. "Not that great Juvia. Your tumor seems to have become malignant meaning it has broken off into your bloodstream. At this point it could be possible that another organ is also infected." He answered as he looked over Juvia.

"Oh, Okay." Was all she could muster.

"However, we will still continue with your chemo treatment and medication as per usual. But I would like to keep you for a bit longer so that I may run a few tests." He explained, waiting for any type reaction from Juvia. But all she did was smile and nod. How the actual fuck can the woman just smile and fricking nod when someone just told her that her condition was way worse than it was two months ago.

"Juvia understands doctor, she appreciates Dr. Fullbuster's hard work" And there she goes again, freaking smiling. Was there petroleum jelly on her teeth or something? Is that's why she can't stop showing those pearly whites or…? He didn't think anyone could smile after being told that they were basically dying. Even if her cheerfulness was infectious, he couldn't help but be irritated at her reaction or lack thereof.

"Well Juvia, I will be back to start the test after I finish my rounds. Please try and gets some rest until I come back." And with that he left. All she had now was an empty room and her thoughts.

The room she was given was a bit smaller than her last one. Granted the previous one was a double, whereas this was a single. The walls were all a pristine white, to the point where staring too long would burn and the floor was covered with a wall to wall grey carpet. To her left was a large window, with a view of what she assumed was a garden, and two comfy looking chairs around a short coffee table. And the wall south of her bed had a small flat screen t.v. It would seem that she was moving up within the hospital scene 'cause her room was pretty deluxe.

The room was eerily silent though as the t.v. was turned off and she was alone. It was boring, so to speak, literally nothing was happening. She wanted to get up and jog, do some yoga, some chores, shopping, anything rather than lie there in bed. But, her stupid lungs just had to be weak.

It was just her luck that the only thing she inherited from her father's side of family was cancer. Out of all things she had to be sick with, it had to be cancer. As if her life wasn't screwed up enough. Bora her boyfriend or rather ex-boyfriend broke up with her since he didn't "want to be tied down by some handicap because that was depressing" Seriously who in fucks sake says that to someone, he was such a douche. Then she almost lost her job because she was "missing too many days of work". That wasn't her fucking fault it was her father's, excuse her language. Last but certainly not least a year ago she lost her mother to a plane crash and now she, herself was dying. Her life was just one big joke huh? It was like the universe just hated her all of a sudden. Nevertheless, she always put on a brave face for everyone, she didn't want to go back to the days when everyone called her gloomy and depressing.

On second thought, she was glad she was alone, she could finally stop withholding those tears.

AN: Thanks for reading the first chapter guys I really appreciate it. Sorry if there were any spelling or grammar mistakes, as I said this was written awhile ago and I only skimmed it. I really suck at proof reading my own work so hopefully it was ok. But anyways, I plan to make this story 4-5 chapters long maybe 6 but no longer than that. Chapter 2 is ready and chapter 3 is 85% done. I don't know if you guys could tell but this my first story so I really hope you guys liked it. Well, Tata for now, see you next chapter (hopefully)! 

[writeinspiration]

suggestions for a young writer? im 15 and i just started seriously writing about a year ago~ since then I've written mostly poetry but I really write other stuff like short stories or plays too! but i always have trouble making my ideas ideas into something and just deciding how or what i want to write. and i get so worried that i lose motivation! i think that i first want to tackle trying to make characters/a simple short story. advice, tips, or tricks? thank youuu!

Hi! I’m glad you’re ready to get started! Beingeager about writing is the best. Writing a poem is a lot like writing a shortstory, so you’re on the right track. Good writing is precise and almost lyrical.

It can be really difficult to maintain motivation.Most people will advise you to write every day, which is good advice, but it’sjust not always feasible. The more you write, the better you will get!

Personally, titles and concepts and characters areall equally likely to get me started on a project. A cool title might pop up inmy head, and then I develop what story and characters go with it. Or I’ll havea concept that I’ll develop and label. Other times, I start with a characterand figure out who they are and what they do.

Here’s my most popular post regarding charactercreation: https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/158687382194/how-do-you-create-characters-or-do-they-come-find

Keeping motivated can be really difficult whenyou’re unsure of your capabilities as a writer. But the more you wait to putyour ideas to the page, the harder it will be to pick things back up. Onceyou’ve gone a week without writing, one more day seems like nothing. One moreweek, one more month… where does it stop?

I’ve seen people suggest leaving off in the middleof a sentence. When you do that, you are setting up for success. You alreadyknow exactly how that sentence will end and where it will lead. So once you sitdown with it again, you can hit the middle of the sentence without staring at atotally blank page.

I have a lot of different posts and tags that mayhelp you out!

Writer’s block and depression (1), and again (2), and some pick-me-ups (3)

First drafts don’t have to be good. 

Write a whole bunch of crappy sentences if that’s what it takesto get a good one.

Don’t let it get you down. Just get it done.

Your big ideas are worth pursuing.

This post in particular will likely resonate with you and how you feel right now: https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/132168477614/ive-been-trying-to-write-for-years-unfortunately (full text included at the very, very bottom of this post)

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Useful tags:

https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/search/young– stuff relating to young writers and characters

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Specific posts that address some of your concerns:

https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/144610505447/if-you-see-a-need-fill-it– If you see a need, fill it.

https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/152075979524/fuckyeahyoungadultlit-tachycardiia– diversity in YA lit

https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/132168477614/ive-been-trying-to-write-for-years-unfortunately– starting to write

https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/131428782622/cliches-in-ya-romance– clichés in YA romance

https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/131034862609/lizardpeopledearreader-honestly-if-stephanie– There’s always someone worse.

https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/104205593649/jetpack-johnny-rose-for-a-tenner-actually– Curiosity is important.

https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/23740953643/setting– starting with setting

https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/151665809147/learning-the-essentials-of-plotting-your-novel– plotting

https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/149405245039/i-have-an-insanely-bad-time-writing-dialogue-any– dialogue

https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/169191903744/behind-me-is-infinite-power-before-me-is-endless– possibilities

https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/167418537238/startledoctopus-ronibravo-i-started-writing– any reason to start writing is a good reason

https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/96119396642/cranky-crustaceans-pupukachoo– Pixar’s rules for storytelling

30THNOVEMBER 2013

QUOTE REBLOGGEDFROM BLOTS& PLOTS WITH 105,191 NOTES

Young writers should read books past bedtime andwrite things down in notebooks when they are supposed to be doing somethingelse.

— Lemony Snicket  (via blotsandplots)

14THDECEMBER 2012

The question for each man to settle is not what hewould do if he had means, time, influence and educational advantages; thequestion is what he will do with the things he has. The moment a young manceases to dream or to bemoan his lack of opportunities and resolutely looks hisconditions in the face, and resolves to change them, he lays the corner-stoneof a solid and honorable success.

— Hamilton Wright Mabie

7THNOVEMBER 2017

PHOTO REBLOGGEDFROM FIXYOUR WRITING HABITS WITH 2,493 NOTES

[Image transcript:The Rules of Writing

1: Write crappy first drafts.2: Words don’t bleed. Cut them.3: Write now. Edit later.4: There are NO mistakes–only creative opportunities.5. Don’t think. Just write.6: Rules? There are rules?]

Starting to write:

https://writeinspiration.tumblr.com/post/132168477614/ive-been-trying-to-write-for-years-unfortunately

deathtotheselfie asked:I’ve been trying to write for years. Unfortunately I’m very young and theschooling I’ve received on writing is nothing like I what I write about. I’monly 14 now, but little phrases and ideas bounce around in my head. Howeverwhen I write I feel like it’s not good or mature enough because of my lack ofexperience. I can’t tend to think of original plots as I’m just surrounded inother people’s work. Do you have any advice on plot development? And do youthink I should continue trying to write?

Hi! Your question makes me quite sad. If you liketo write, then you should pursue it. It’s that simple.

School doesn’t help much in terms of creativewriting. Over the summer, when I was little, my mom would make my sister and mewrite short stories. It kept me in the habit of writing even when school wasn’tin session.

(Wanna know a secret? I often got stuck halfwaythrough my story, so I’d coerce my sister into showing me hers. Then I wouldwrite the same events but in my own words. I did this for quite a while onesummer. Maybe two.)

Not only does school keep you ridiculously busy,but it also doesn’t like teaching creative stuff much either, because math andscience are deemed as more important than anything related to the arts.

All those negative voices banging around in yourhead along with all the good ideas you have? You need to learn to silence them.Those things are what you are being trained to think.

Here’s what nobody seems to know about writing:you have to start  somewhere. No one starts off as an amazing writer.

People expect writers to have this magical well ofintuition, but honestly, it just comes from practice.

You know that thing about practicing 10,000 hoursin order to become a master at something? It applies to writing, too.

Writers write.

You need to watch and write things down–what youobserve can be the basis for characters or plot or whatever. Eavesdrop on astranger’s phone conversation to get a peek into other people’s lives. Sit on abench in the mall and watch people go by.

Do you know how babies learn? They observe otherpeople doing things and then try to mimic them.

I don’t mean that fledgling writers are babies, ofcourse, but I mean that you can get your best work by reading other people’swork.

Figure out what you like to read, what you don’t liketo read. And then ask yourself WHY.

What is it about that book you hated? Was it thecharacters? The plot? The slow story-telling?

What did you love about that one book? How did itmake you feel? What parts made you feel that way?

I was in middle school when I began reading a Series of Unfortunate Events  (I’m25, for comparison’s sake). Do you know what my writing sounded like while Iwas reading those? Lemony Snicket. It wasn’t on purpose, but that’s just whathappened. (Also for comparison’s sake, I now have had a short story publishedin an actual anthology and completed a 60-page poetry collection as my creativethesis, as well as a book that I’m trying to get published.)

The more you read, the more you gain. If you readenough books, then you’ll have influences from all over that create a uniquewriter: you.

You are the sum of everything you have ever reador seen or thought about.

Yes, you’re a teenager. But that doesn’t stop youfrom observing the world and teaching yourself to understand other writers’work.

If you want to write something but are worriedthat it sounds too much like somebody else, then figure out why it sounds thatway. Is it just you that thinks it sounds that way? Or do other people tell youthat as well? Find out what it is that makes it sound like that. Is it thenarration? The plot? The themes?

Regardless of your answers, you are able to makeit unique to you.

You are a writer, and whatever you write will beyours and yours alone.

As far as plot development goes, I find thatoutlining helps. I don’t always keep to the outline, but askingyourself “Then what happens?” after each event that you write down is thebest thing you can do for yourself.

A plot is a series of events. If you know whathappens naturally after something, then you write that down. It also helps ifyou understand WHY something happens.

She goes to the mall.

Then what happens?

She ends up going home and crying in her room.

Why? What caused this? What physical actionscaused her to want to leave the mall? What mental actions occurred because ofthe physical actions?

She runs into someone she used to be best friendswith, and they get into a fight. This makes her feel disappointed in her friendbut also unsure of herself because she doesn’t know what she has done to makeher friend act that way. She places the blame on herself instead of on herformer friend. This is because she has been told growing up that everything isher fault and that her younger brother can’t do anything wrong.

See what I mean? And it’s okay to ask yourselfwhat you would do in that situation. But your characters are not you. Theyprobably won’t react like you would. And that’s okay and important.

As I told my students last year, ask yourself WHYand HOW after each sentence, after each paragraph, after each plot point, aftereach whatever. It will keep your story going until it reaches its naturalconclusion.

Okay, this ended up being way, way longer than Iintended it to be, haha. But I’m completely serious and obviously verypassionate about this. And I can say way more on the subject at the drop of ahat, so if you have any more questions, then just give me a shout. :)

Best of luck. And don’t stop writing.

I mean it. :)

[imagine-knb]

If I Die Young [Kiyoshi Teppei]

Originally posted on my personal writing blog (along with other writing accounts that I have). I thought it’d be nice to bring it here as well. I hope you enjoy. -Neon

If I die young, bury me in satin Lay me down on a bed of roses Sink me in a river at dawn Send me away with the words of a love song

Uh oh, uh oh

Kiyoshi hadn’t been nervous on his flight to America. No, the only emotion he was feeling was the sting of sadness as he left his friends behind in his home country of Japan. He hadn’t even felt that nervous standing at the front desk of the hospital, his grandparents on either side of him as they checked in. Rather, he felt annoyed at the fact that he was struggling to understand the quick speech pattern of the nurse in charge—English was still pretty difficult for him to grasp. Now that he was standing in front of the room which he would reside in for the next few months however, Kiyoshi suddenly felt very nauseous. He had never been a fan of hospital visits. Not ever since he was forced to stay in one for therapy sessions the first time his leg was injured.

Kiyoshi watched as the nurse opened the door for him, gesturing for him to enter before her. Walking in, he was instantly met with a sight he hadn’t expected to see. A girl was sitting up on the bed adjacent to the one he presumed to be his, her eyes which were previously focused on the blaring television now centering in on him. She gave him a smile and a small wave of her hand before redirecting her eyes to the commercials that were playing.

“This is ____,” the nurse said kindly as she showed Kiyoshi to his bed. “She’ll be your roommate for as long as you’re here. Please do get along.”

After a lengthy speech about what Kiyoshi should expect over the next few months and a couple warnings about the sensitive buttons wired to his bed, the nurse left the room. It was tense for a few moments on Kiyoshi’s part, the only sound that filtered through the air being that of the television. Kiyoshi was only partially startled when the television screen was turned off, complete and utter silence filling the room for a few seconds.

“I’m ____, but the nurse already told you that,” the girl on the other hospital bed said, her hands idly fumbling with a remote control and she gave Kiyoshi a warm smile. “What’s yours?”

It took a moment for her words to sink in, the process of translating English to Japanese being rather slow in his mind. He had to think about his words carefully before saying them. “I am… Teppei Kiyoshi. It is very nice to meet you.” Kiyoshi mumbled a bit, nearly forgetting that in America people were typically introduced with their first name then last.

If possible, ____’s smile widened and her eyes seemed to glisten as she listened to the rather tall boy speak. “You have got a pretty funny accent. Where are you from?”

Kiyoshi was grateful that, this time, ____ avoided using contractions in her sentence and actually spoke a bit slower. It made it easier for him to understand. “Uh… Japan.”

“Wowie,” she whistled, her expression showing genuine amazement. It made Kiyoshi relax a bit and he found himself leaning back against the headboard of his bed, a small comforted smile gracing his lips. “So Teppei, what are you here for?”

Shocked by her forwardness, Kiyoshi had to remind himself that it was customary to call people by their first names in America. He stumbled a bit with his words, starting his sentence over a few times in order to convey to her his reason for being at the hospital. “My knee. I am going to be in surgery today.”

Saying it out loud, Kiyoshi suddenly felt that what was happening was truly inevitable. He felt a numbness overtake him as he thought about the surgery to come. So many things could go wrong. What if the anesthetics didn’t work? Or what if they worked too well and he never woke up? What if the surgery was a failure? What if he could never walk again? All these questions and more bombarded the basketball player’s mind and, slowly, his small smile turned into a grimace. His eyebrows furrowed together into a bushy line on his forehead and his gaze focused on his hands which were clenching onto his bed sheet. They would be coming for him any hour now and he wasn’t sure he was ready.

Noticing his sudden distress, ____ could only guess that he was nervous. “Don’t worry, you will be fine. The people here are very good at what they do,” she reassured him, her gentle voice catching his attention once more. “Trust me. I’ve been here long enough, so I can tell.”

Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother She’ll know I’m safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh, And life ain’t always what you think it ought to be, no Ain’t even grey, but she buries her baby

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well I’ve had just enough time

A few days later and Kiyoshi’s surgery had been a complete success. Now he had nothing to do but lay in bed, waiting for the day where he would be healed enough to start walking again. Time seemed to crawl on slowly for the teenager, but talking with his roommate seemed to make things more bearable.

____ and Kiyoshi had gotten to know each other quite well over the past few days, telling each other about their pasts and about the important things they held dear to them. Kiyoshi couldn’t help but talk about his basketball experiences with the girl, recounting the many games he had played and won over the years. ____, in turn, would tell him about her passions and hobbies, often describing them in great detail to the point Kiyoshi could practically see her doing them. Sure, a lot of comments were lost in translation, but the gist of what each person was saying was enough to spark excitement into what was expected to be a boring hospital stay.

Every so often, for at least an hour or two, their long conversations would be interrupted by a visit from ____’s mother. The older woman would hobble in, a book in her hands—Kiyoshi guessed that it was some sort of book of faith—and she would sit next to her daughter, reading the scriptures that were written in there. The two females would pray with each other every time the older woman came to visit, taking their time in repeating the same phrases.

One day, after her mother had left the room while bidding the two teenagers goodbye, Kiyoshi asked ____ about her faith.

“I don’t really know if I believe in it,” ____ admitted, shrugging her shoulders carefully. Her left arm was attached to an IV, an unknown liquid dripping into her system and preparing her for her surgery to come. “But it makes my mom happy, so I participate.”

Kiyoshi nodded, understanding the feeling of wanting to make a family member happier through actions. “What do you pray for?”

____ gave him a smile, though he could tell that there was a certain sadness in her eyes. Her fingers started to fidget with the sheets on her bed as she answered him. “I’m not the healthiest person out there. I’ve had some pretty gnarly surgeries before,” she murmured, lifting the hospital gown up a bit to show him the long scar that ran down her side and back. “We pray because, well… it’s just in case.”

He understood the implications of her words clearly. The type of surgeries she had to undergo were dangerous; she could die. Deciding that he would let the conversation drop for now, Kiyoshi turned to look out the window as he allowed his brows to furrow. He was upset with himself for letting the conversation take such a sour turn. ____, however, wasn’t at all affected by their topic and continued to speak.

“I don’t want to die, but Mom says praying will make things less scary in case I do.” ____ turned to look out the window as well, her eyes softening at the sight of fluffy white clouds lazily drifting through the sky. “I’m not scared though.”

Kiyoshi turned his worried gaze over to the girl, his eyes questioning. He noticed how her eyes still seemed to sparkle despite their grim conversation. Had she not been so pale from being indoors all the time and had she not been constantly attached to a hospital bed, Kiyoshi would have thought of her as one of the most beautiful girls he’d ever seen.

“I’m not scared because I’m going to come back one day.”

“Come back?” Kiyoshi was confused. She couldn’t possibly mean that she would come back to life after a while. The image of a zombie movie he had watched a few years back flashed into his mind and he shuddered. “How?”

“Reincarnation.”

Kiyoshi sighed, his heart calming a bit at the relatively normal answer. He hadn’t really thought about reincarnation being an answer, so he was glad when she brought it up. It was a topic he was more comfortable with discussing. “What do you think you will become?”

“A rainbow,” she answered, thoroughly confusing Kiyoshi once again. When he looked at her in question once more, she gave him a warm smile before clarifying. “They make people happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

If I die young, bury me in satin Lay me down on a bed of roses Sink me in the river at dawn Send me away with the words of a love song

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well I’ve had just enough time

She was wringing her hands together, a nervous habit Kiyoshi had learned to recognize whenever her doctor came in to have a word with her. Eyes downcast towards the wrinkles in her bed, he could hear the slight wheeze of her breathing. The liquid that had been seeping into her body through an IV had made her weaker, more susceptible to illness, but it was supposed to help make the surgery easier on both her and the surgeons. It had been days since they had started her on the drip feed. It had also been days since the two of them had their conversation about reincarnation. Kiyoshi could remember her smile vividly as she talked about making others happy, but he was having trouble finding that smile now.

“What is wrong?” He asked, breaking through the unbearable silence in the room. He wanted to get up from his bed and reach out to comfort her, but he still wasn’t allowed to move on his own.

Startled by the sudden inquiry, ____ redirected her gaze towards Kiyoshi. She forced a smile onto her face, but the gesture didn’t reach her eyes. Kiyoshi could tell that she was still scared behind her brave façade. Fingers subconsciously continuing in their fidgeting motion, ____ inhaled shakily before answering.

“My surgery is today, Teppei,” she answered, trying her best to hide the nervous waver in her voice. “They finally found a donor and I’m getting some replacement parts.” Trying her best to lighten up the mood, she poked at her side which held the long scar marring her body. She traced the line with her finger, mimicking the motion of a scalpel slicing through skin. “I kind of feel like a robot or android getting some brand spanking new parts from the auto shop.”

In her desperate attempt to seem like her normally cheerful self, ____ had spoken a bit too quickly and Kiyoshi had trouble understanding the words that left her mouth. He had only caught a few of them, but it wasn’t enough for him to translate into a coherent sentence. He did, however, understand her body language as that of a person who was anxious to get something over with. Mustering up as much of a smile as he could manage, he made sure it reached his eyes as he spoke.

“Do not worry,” he started, patting his lap in a gesture that brought some attention to his healing knee. “Someone once told me that the people here are very good at what they do.”

A small gasp escaped ____’s lips as she recognized the words Kiyoshi had uttered. Small tears had started to form at the corners of her eyes as she looked over to the brunette male and she had to rub at her face with the heel of her hand to stop her waterworks, giving him the weakest smile she could manage. Her lips were quivering slightly, strong emotions overcoming her as she struggled to accept the fate that was dealt to her. She was scared.

But Kiyoshi’s smile and kindhearted words were giving her a glimmer of hope.

Deciding that it would be best to keep her mind off the thought of her surgery to come, Kiyoshi continued to hold a conversation with ____. They talked about whatever came to mind, often having to repeat themselves as their language barrier still got in the way of their communication quite often. Every so often a laugh would escape ____’s lips, causing Kiyoshi’s heart to flutter a bit as he was reminded of the sweet sound of ringing wind chimes. He wanted to hear her laugh more.

An hour later and the doctors and nurses had finally arrived—in Kiyoshi’s opinion they had arrived much to quickly—and they started shifting things around the room so they could wheel ____ away towards the operating room. Before she left the room, she looked at Kiyoshi, the smile he had placed on her face wavering slightly.

“Wish me luck?”

“You do not need it,” he said, flashing her a grin along with a thumbs up. “You will be coming back.”

And I’ll be wearing white, when I come into your kingdom I’m as green as the ring on my little cold finger, I’ve never known the lovin’ of a man But it sure felt nice when he was holdin’ my hand, There’s a boy here in town, says he’ll love me forever, Who would have thought forever could be severed by…

…the sharp knife of a short life, oh well? I’ve had just enough time

Taking yet another shaky step, Kiyoshi couldn’t help but grin in self-satisfaction as he merely brushed his fingertips against the wall of the hallway. He had started walking again a few days ago, taking it slow as his legs got used to carrying his weight once more. It had been a struggle at first and Kiyoshi would often find himself upset when he could only take a few steps before feeling tired, but now he had built up both his strength and stamina. He had finally accomplished his goal of walking down the hallway and back and he was feeling prouder than ever.

A nurse gripped onto the handle of a door, opening it for Kiyoshi as she helped him inside. Upon entering the room, Kiyoshi was met with the familiar sound of a heart monitor beeping away. He had to force his frown to leave upon casting his eyes towards the occupied bed, noticing that ____ was once again idly watching television. Walking slowly into the room, he made a short detour to her bedside, standing next to it and towering over her frail frame.

Noticing that Kiyoshi had shuffled his way to her bedside, ____ pressed a button on the remote control that sat loosely in her grip, effectively shutting off the television. She flashed him a weak smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling a bit.

“How far did you make it today?” She asked, watching as Kiyoshi fished around in the pocket of his sweats for a bit. When he finally pulled out the object he was searching for, he let it drop onto ____’s bed. To say she was utterly confused when a crumpled up tissue landed on her bed would be an understatement. “What’s this?”

“There is a tissue box at the end of the hall,” Kiyoshi stated, a small smile forming on his lips as he watched her put the pieces of the puzzle together. In his mind, he imagines that she’d probably do something cheesy like treasure the tissue for as long as she can and it makes a feeling of pride swell in his chest.

“Teppei, that’s great!” Despite her lack of breath and weak status, ____ had managed to sound ecstatic. She tried in vain to sit up, only to have one of Kiyoshi’s large hands gently push her back onto the bed so she could rest. “You’ll be back to playing basketball in no time.”

Kiyoshi nodded, deciding he would much rather stay by her side for a few more minutes than go over to his own bed. Asking the nurse for a bit of help, Kiyoshi struggled slightly to sit in the chair that was always near ____’s side. Once the two of them were comfortable, the nurse left the room, promising to return in a few minutes.

Kiyoshi took that time to study ____’s weakened state. Yes, her surgery had been a complete success and the doctors were able to replace all the parts that needed to be removed, but the IV drip that had been supposed to prepare her body for her new organs hadn’t done its job as expected. Upon the end of her surgery, it quickly became apparent that her body was rejecting the new parts, causing an internal warfare to ensue inside of her. The doctors were doing everything in their power to make ____ healthy again, but nothing seemed like enough. The biological struggle inside of her had caused ____ to become severely ill, her skin much paler than normal and her muscles barely able to keep up her own weight. Even breathing was a difficult task and more often than not, she was attached to a machine that would help her do that as well. Her eyes still held that sliver of hope however.

And so did Kiyoshi’s.

Shifting a bit in his seat, Kiyoshi moved to hold her smaller hand in his. Her skin felt cold to the touch, almost corpse like, and Kiyoshi wanted nothing more than to warm her up. A small, almost unnoticeable pressure on his hand alerted him out of his grim thoughts and his eyes instantly found ____’s. She was smiling.

“I’m going to be alright,” she assured slowly. “I promise.”

So put on your best, boys, and I’ll wear my pearls What I never did is done

A penny for my thoughts, oh, no, I’ll sell ‘em for a dollar They’re worth so much more after I’m a goner And maybe then you’ll hear the words I been singin’ Funny when you’re dead how people start listenin’

A few nights later and Kiyoshi was struggling to sleep comfortably. He was having a vivid dream, images of a healthy ____ standing before him in all her glory. Her skin, no longer a sickening pale color, seemed to glow and her eyes shined with a happiness he hadn’t seen in such a long while. She was laughing, the sound that he had grown to love reaching his ears, caressing his mind. Her hands were pulling him along, leading him to some unknown place. He was hesitant at first, not knowing if his legs could handle the fast pace at which she was going, but upon realizing that his muscles worked perfectly fine he ran alongside her.

“See? I told you everything is going to be fine.” She laughed once more, talking with him normally as they slowed their run to an eventual stop. She sounded distant despite being so close to him and Kiyoshi almost had to ask her to repeat herself. “You’re going to get better and everything will be just fine.”

“What about you?”

____ let go of his hand and Kiyoshi suddenly felt cold. Turning on her heel so she could face the tall male, she gave him the same grin she had shown him the first time they met. Somewhere in the distance, Kiyoshi could hear a familiar sound.

“Everything is going to be fine,” she echoed once more.

Her image started to seem blurry to Kiyoshi’s eyes and he found himself reaching out for her, only to come up empty as his hand simply phased through her. Calling ____’s name, Kiyoshi started to feel a slight panic as his heart started to beat in time with the sound in the background. He tried to pinpoint where the noise was coming from, his sleep hazed mind barely able to recognize why the sound seemed so familiar.

Kiyoshi woke up with a start, sitting upright in his bed instantly. A cold sweat was making its way down his neck and he shivered involuntarily. He rubbed at his eyes, his mind still foggy from his confusing dream. Normally this would be the time where he would selfishly wake ____ up, wanting to tell her about his dream before he could forget the next morning. She would complain about his rude behavior for waking her up so early in the morning, only to sit up as well and listen to his narration. However, this time his voice was caught in his throat. Something about tonight seemed different, almost as if he had seen that dream for a reason.

Looking over towards his roommate’s bed, Kiyoshi’s eyes landed on her passive face. She looked cold, her skin almost seeming blue due to the dark shadows of the night. The background sound that had invaded his dream was still ringing in his ear and, if Kiyoshi hadn’t glanced at ____’s heart monitor, he would’ve thought he was just hearing things. However, he did glance at the heart monitor and the image that was portrayed nearly caused him to have a heart attack of his own.

One long, thin green line was displayed on the digital screen and a constant beep resonated through the room.

Kiyoshi didn’t know when he had stumbled off his bed, his legs nearly giving out under the sudden weight of his body. He could barely recognize the feel of ____’s soft skin on his hands when he reached out to touch her face. He could barely see her features, a wave of emotion suddenly clouding his vision. He didn’t even know when he had instinctively reached for what he deemed as the panic button she had on her bedside.

Doctors and nurses alike quickly filed into the room, some of them gently ushering Kiyoshi back to his own bed as others quickly got to work on the girl. His ears barely registered the commanding voices bouncing around in the room as the curtain between his bed and ____’s was drawn, effectively shutting him away from ever seeing her again.

The internal warfare that had been plaguing her for days was finally over. ____’s body had won.

But at a terrible price.

If I die young, bury me in satin Lay me down on a bed of roses Sink me in the river at dawn Send me away with the words of a love song

Uh oh (uh, oh) The ballad of a dove (uh, oh) Go with peace and love Gather up your tears, keep ‘em in your pocket Save 'em for a time when you’re really gonna need 'em, oh

After that night, the room was silent for a long time. Often, Kiyoshi wondered if he should switch on the television for some ambient noise. Even the thought of calling his friends back in Japan had crossed his mind a couple times. Anything to keep the silence out of the room. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it, instead basking in the solitude that now consumed him. He hadn’t cried, thinking that ____ wouldn’t want him to do so.

It was the next day when an older woman hobbled into Kiyoshi’s hospital room, shuffling over to the now empty bed. She didn’t have a book in her hands this time, knowing full well that it was no use bringing something like that now. Slowly, she opened drawers and cabinets that were beside the empty bed, cleaning them out of all the belongings that had been collecting dust in there for months. When she opened the last drawer, she found a bunch of papers and useless trinkets along with a crumpled up tissue. She quickly shoved the items in that drawer into the rubbish bin, having no use for them.

A twinge of pain found its way into Kiyoshi’s heart as he watched the wadded up tissue fall into the rubbish bin. He hadn’t really expected ____ to keep it. Turning his eyes away from the woman in his room, he bites back the emotion that threatens to overcome him.

“Thank you.”

It’s the first time the older woman has spoken directly to Kiyoshi and he almost has to ask her to repeat herself. When he finally turns his gaze towards ____’s mother, she is sitting on what used to be her daughter’s bed, her tired eyes staring at the floor. Kiyoshi can see the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, evidence of all the years she had spent worrying over her sickly daughter. It makes his stomach churn uncomfortably as he realizes that this woman can finally rest, though the price of that relaxation was far too great.

“You made her happy in what little time she had left,” ____’s mother said after a long while, finally turning her gaze to look Kiyoshi straight in the eyes. He could see the family resemblance and, for a moment, he wondered if ____ would’ve grown to look like her mother had she lived. “I’m very thankful that she had the opportunity to meet someone like you.”

Kiyoshi opened his mouth to respond, but immediately closed it. What was he supposed to say? That he was grateful as well? Or perhaps that he was glad to have met ____ despite their individual circumstances? Either option didn’t seem appropriate to the male teen and, despite his desperate need to convey his feelings, he bit back his words. He didn’t trust his voice not to waver.

Noticing his silence, the older woman continued. “If you’re still in the area when it happens, I’m sure she would like for you to come to the funeral.”

Standing from her position on the bed, ____’s mother gathered up the things she had collected from the drawers before slowly stepping towards the exit of the room. She paused momentarily, one of her hands holding the door open as she turned back in Kiyoshi’s direction. He noticed how her eyes seemed to look passed him, gazing out the window that stayed beside him.

“She’s in a better place now.”

Taking her leave, the older woman closed the door quietly, once again causing the room to be consumed in silence. Once he could no longer hear the click of her heels in the hallway outside, Kiyoshi turned his attention to the window beside him. His eyes widened at the sight.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but earlier that day rain had plagued the sky, causing a downpour of fat raindrops to bombard the people outside. Though, the awful weather had subsided for now and a beautiful arch now painted the sky. Kiyoshi counted the colors of the rainbow stretching across the view his window had to offer of the outside world, each pigment bringing back painful memories of a smile he wished to see just once more.

This time, Kiyoshi couldn’t stop the flow of tears from falling.

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well I’ve had just enough time

So put on your best, boys, and I’ll wear my pearls.

[homestuck-session-analysis]

Hi, I have a crappy memory and can't remember if I asked for a session request (I don't wanna rush you or anything I just can't remember if I sent it before) It was for a Knight of breath, Mage of time, Heir of space, Seer of void, Sylph of heart, Prince of hope, Page of Life and Thief of rage and quadrants if you do them (Especially for the Knight, Mage and Heir) You don't have to,like, answer this right now, I just wanted to know if I sent it, sorry to bother !

It’s been seven days since Mod Nix spoke to a human being.  Her hands are dry and her knuckles itch. 

Binary checklist: Master aspects: Present. Unrepeated classpects: Present. 

Mage of Time: “One who guides themselves through knowledge pertaining to and through timelines, progression, and Time itself.”  Along with the Witch and thefully-realized Page, the Mage of Time is definitely one of the bestpossible Time players a session can have.  This player knowseverything there is to know about time, timelines, and time travel,and although it begins to infringe on Mind, they likely have a solidgrasp on cycles of causation.  Your Mage has an inherent sense ofTime, a perfect internal clock; however, because of the Mage’sCurse, for all their efforts they may be constantly too slow toeffect what they wish to effect, late to all their appointments forreasons not their fault.  Hopefully they’re not an easilyfrustrated person.  They have about the average capacity forbetrayal, especially if they feel like they’re the ones doing allthe work in the session, with their teammates just lounging about.

Heir of Space: “One who inherits, embodies, and is protected by artwork, creation, and physicality.”  The Heir of Space is a natural at the interpretation of fine art, worldbuilding, and the generation of ideas, although they rarely bother to put in the effort necessary to actually produce any finished works of their own.  Given their protection by Space, the Genesis Frog should already be accounted for.  They might have an unfairly efficient metabolism, given their entitlement, and are almost certainly middle-upper class to unnecessarily rich.  Despite their tendency toward athletics, it’s unlikely this player is on any teams, since they’re used to not having to try for their skill.  There’s very little chance they’d outright work against the team, although they might get annoyed if they feel unappreciated. 

Knight of Breath: “One who exploits to the utmost freedom, pathways, and chaos, and wields it as a weapon.”  The Knight of Breath is a revolutionary, they’re a democrat from the Golden Age of Greece, and they flourish when the people are being restricted.  In the beginning of their session, when the lack of Breath they bring is most pronounced, the focus is on fighting restrictions (and all the self-sacrifice and determination that comes with it).  As a Knight, this player may be a little too engaged with becoming a martyr; again, their activity will be most pronounced in the earlier stages of the session.  Although certain facets of Sburban mechanics are made to be easily broken or bent, bu a determined Mage or any Witch, watch out trying to do anything of the sort here without this player to correct you; due to the natural deficit of Breath in your session, arbitrary rules may be immovable without a realized Knight of Breath exploiting what small amount of Breath remains present to return the restrictions to their usual status.  I see this player being not overly taken with the team; they’ll be more concerned with their own affairs on their land.  They have some propensity for abandonment, but not betrayal. 

Sylph of Heart: “One who heals or heals through identity, self-expression, and romantic relationships.”  This player is a matchmaker, and has probably written at least two self-help pamphlets.  May or may not be the author of Eat, Pray, Love.  They’re a romantic, taking refuge in knowing who they are and encouraging others to do the same.  Having said that, their intervention isn’t positive per se; while the rest of their team is unrealized, encouraging them to follow their instincts may do more damage than good by pushing the players toward the flawed parts of their personality as well as the satisfactory.  On the flip side, upon the realization of all players, identity crises will happen much less often; this player, who’s always defined themselves by their role as a healer, may find themselves apparently isolated.  They might get annoyed, but are too focused on helping to really do anything whatsoever against the team, including just leaving home base. 

Prince of Hope: “One who destroys or destroys through a flood of faith, belief, and success.”  Eridan Ampora.  Pick a crusader or televangelist.  This is one of the aspects in which the Prince is not necessarily realized before they begin destroying through it, rather than destroying it. Evidence does not stand in their way; they likely pick and choose what to believe based on what feels best to them or relieves the most anxiety, which makes the Sylph of Heart particularly dangerous around them.  Hopefully your Thief will temper this somewhat, and if your Page of Life successfully realizes, they can force the Prince onto a more productive track, destroying not through blind faith or personal beliefs but through faith in their peers and chances of success.  Among Princes, this is a particularly powerful one that can make or break a session.  Before they’re realized, I would suggest they have an absolute chance of betrayal if the Thief isn’t constantly stealing their motivation.  Of course, their presence will inflate chances of success greatly -- at least, in the beginning. 

Page of Life: “One who creates, encompasses, and fulfills life energy, maturation, and personal growth.”  The Page of Life is a fucking savior because, frankly, a Mage of Time, Prince of Hope, and Thief of Rage give me little hope (even with the flood the Prince’s presence produces).  Imagine a coefficient given for each player representing their chance of realization.  An Heir of Life’s is 1 (100%).  The average Page’s might be 0.1.  Square that and you’ve got the coefficient for a Page of Life: 0.01.  Good chances.  They’ll start out, naturally, with a complete deficit of their aspect (the least mature person one could ever suffer).  They’re probably also sick half the time, or at least sleep way less than they should, whether that’s their own fault or not.  (They certainly don’t do anything productive with that time.)  If they do mange to realize, I use no irony when I say they will be able to force the rest of your team to realize immediately, with circumstantially simultaneous epiphanies for the whole ectobiological family and a good ive cases for your Sylph at least.  Frankly, although they’ll be uberpowerful post-realization, I can’t see them doing anything against the team beforehand just because they have so little ability. 

Thief of Rage: “One who steals and redistributes passion, drive, and emotions to and in order to benefit themselves.”  The Thief of Rage is the life of the party, bouncing off the walls, perpetually in the spotlight, and tiring everyone else the fuck out.  Living with them before they’ve realized produces a depressive lack of willpower; there’s no point trying to stop them because they always take things too far and have no intention of stopping now.  The good news is that, since they’re stealing the motivation of everyone around them, they should realize quickly (assuming they don’t make any horribly rash decisions borne of their personal frenzy beforehand which, admittedly, is a big assumption.  Hopefully your Mage will fix their mistakes).  At that point, they’ll be much more capable of taking control of their abilities and redirecting them at Dersite enemies, and will probably become the leader of the team, if only because they’re the only one who wants to be.  Given their quick (poor) judgment, they probably wouldn’t last long betraying the team, but they don’t want to, anyway. 

Seer of Void: “One who guides others through and through knowledge pertaining to secrets, ignorance, and the Furthest Ring.”  Though the Thief will lead the session, this Seer is a more localized version of the Chessmaster, executing their plans on a personal basis and using their knowledge of what everyone else doesn’t know to benefit the team.  Having said that, they likely have some bias to their thinking on Void; take Albus Dumbledore, a man hated in some parts of the HP fandom for his manipulation.  The most obvious potential bias, and the one easiest for this player to fell prey to, is the belief that they’re protecting others by withholding information from them, something that perseveres in the face of mounting opposite evidence.  By the time of their completed realization, though, they’ll have thrown it off, more fully understanding the possible negative facets of Void as well as those positive facets they’ve always extolled.  They’re also at slightly higher risk of falling under the influence of Horrorterrors, if you believe that gazing long into an abyss leads to the abyss also gazing into you.  (Only chance of betrayal is due to grimdarkness.) 

Overall: Frog Hunt: Despite the Knight and Mage, your Prince and Heir should be enough to vastly overcompensate.  95%. Black King: With the Mage and Knight as combined strategists and offensive players, the Seer on strategy, the Prince, page, and Thief on offense, and your Sylph healing, you’ve got a good team.  (I’m going to assume complete loyalty and team realization here and correct for it in the loyalty section.)  The Page is also a great healer.  95%. Loyalty: Up ‘till now I’ve been giving the highest possible chances I’m willing to, but here we run into trouble.  Chances are, your Page won’t realize.  The Prince will probably go AWOL, and your Thief will be too self-absorbed to really do much for the beginning of the session.  15% you won’t destroy yourself.

Winning: I’d like to give you something high, but that loyalty stat is killing you, plus the presence of a player Time hates.  Chances of success with anyone surviving is 60%.  Success with everyone surviving is 10% (which is generous in itself). 

~{o-o~}  Nix  {~o-o}~

PS

From Mod Rae: Mage ♦ Heir       Mage ♥ Thief      Heir ♥ Page       Heir ♠ PrinceKnight ♦ Thief    Knight ♥ Seer     Sylph ♦ Page     Prince ♥ Thief      Thief ♠ Seer

Remember that these are all possibilities, not inevitabilities. 

[bensaundersposts-blog]

Blog

Wednesday 14th November 2018 Sat down with my collaborator to discuss the upcoming project. I had already decided on doing a concept album based on The Great Gatsby, as we had actually started work on a song with such a concept a few months prior, titled Buchanan Street. We chose this source of inspiration because we both love the book and have great reverence and understanding of it, and we know it is a deep well from which to draw inspiration.

Wednesday 21st November

Had our first songwriting session dedicated to this project, repurposing a song we had started earlier in the year as I thought the mood and lyrical content of the piece fit with the direction of the project nicely. The lyrics evoked to me an image of Gatsby and Daisy Buchannan on their first night together, talking things out late in the evening after the excitement had died down, picking apart each other’s minds and motivations, and trying to peel away the layers of pretence surrounding their personas. The music is melancholy and atmospheric and suggests the beginnings of the disillusionment of Gatsby’s dream as he is finally presented with the object of years of his desire, only to find it imperfect and something that could never live up to the dream.

Wednesday 28th November

Continued work on the aforementioned song which we decided to entitle Behind Dark Glasses. Also started a new song, Sins of the Father, following a discussion on how nobody ever really thinks of the events of The Great Gatsby from Daisy’s perspective, focussing instead on Gatsby and Nick’s feelings, so it would be interesting to look at things through her point of view. As such, we began to think how she would view the situation, torn between an unhappy-but-stable marriage, and the distant promise of a potentially better future with the man she had all but given up on years prior. We also thought about a concept brought up in the book of the cycle of negative behaviours and how they are learned. Daisy is, in essence, as we all are, simply acting out based on her surroundings and upbringing - repeating the sins of her father, as each generation tends to repeat the same mistakes as the preceding one, because it’s how they’ve been brought up, and all they know.

Wednesday 5th December

Decided to potentially do Sins of the Father as a duet, with one verse from Daisy’s perspective and another from Gatsby’s, with the two of them singing in harmony by the end. To accomplish this we can get our singer’s sister to do a guest vocal spot. This was an idea from the mind of my collaborator, who noted that the vocal harmony part I had devised for the end of the tune would lend itself to this approach.

Wednesday 12th December

Decided to employ some of my reharmonisation skills in an attempt to make Behind Dark Glasses more musically interesting. Perhaps a symptom of having spent so much time playing/listening to it, the simplicity of the chord progression was starting to get to me. The song is in 7/8 and alternates meter with 4/4 several times throughout, so is interesting rhythmically, and structurally, but I still felt I needed to spice up the harmony a little. I went from a vi-IV-I-V progression of Am-F-C-G to a vi-ii-I-iii progression of Am-Dm/A-C-Em, which I felt was significantly more interesting and slightly less predictable, and the inclusion of the E minor especially lended a darker, sadder tone to the overall piece.

Wednesday 19th December

Again continuing work on Behind Dark Glasses, I looked at the B section of the song which modulates from A minor to A major and features the progression Dmaj7-E(7). I liked the way the E7 acted as a turnaround chord back to A minor via its appearance in both the A major and A harmonic minor scales, but suddenly realised that I could use the Dmaj7 and E7 as bVI and bVII chords respectively to modulate to the new key of F# major, which sounded extremely triumphant and lended itself to a big, bombastic final “chorus” section for our song. Initially the two A minor and A major sections were already in contrast with each other, one dark and brooding and the other more uplifting and catchy, but this third section really elevated the song to new heights, soaring and really giving the song the kick it needed. How exactly the lyrics would progress into this section after being about such a somber topic for so long, we were yet to discover.

Wednesday 9th January 2019

After a short (ish) break for Christmas, we got right back into the swing of things by practicing the two songs we had written thus far, making slight alterations to the lyrics and melody. We then re-began work on the song that started it all, Buchanan Street. We already had a vague idea that this would be a more general, retrospective look at the events of the novel, mentioning things like he green light, the expensive cars and the valley of ashes. We also had a line for the ending of the song, “Don’t know where to go//Got to go my own way”, which we felt encapsulated a feeling of wanting to move on after the life-changing events of the novel, albeit being unsure of exactly where or how.

Wednesday 20th February

Contact with my collaborator at this point had become very sporadic and it was becoming increasingly difficult to actually get any work done with him. In his defense he had a couple of good excuses - his uncle died, then he had to attend the funeral, then his family went away on holiday, then his grandma got diagnosed with dementia and he had to help out in the purchase and renovation of a property close to his own house to which he and his family members could easily travel to look after her, etc etc. Every week he had a new excuse and every week I began to get more and more anxious over whether or not I would be able to make the May deadline for our project, and it was my degree on the line, not his. I don’t really blame him for circumstances outwith his control, but he has also proven to be somewhat unreliable on occasions prior and since. Due to all of this, during discussions with my lecturer we elected that I make a final decision on whether or not to proceed with the collaborative side of the project, or just do it all on my own, most likely completely instrumentally. Feeling that our idea had a lot of potential and that it would be a shame not to attempt to push forward with our project as initially planned, I decided to carry on with the collaboration, but really start to drill into my partner just how important this is and how little time we have left. Perhaps I could have planned things a little better, met up with him more than once a week and had other avenues available for myself to explore should our partnership give way, but I was a little one-track-minded on this idea and hoped everything would work out well.

Wednesday 6th March

We decided from this point on to really get a move on and to try and get one studio rehearsal session and one at-home writing session per week, in order to work on vocal melodies and lyrics respectively. We found that writing at my house was great for coming up with lyrics but bad for trying to come up with vocal melodies as we couldn’t be as loud outwith a studio, so decided to combine approaches. Continuing to work on Behind Dark Glasses, Sins of the Father and Buchanan Street, I had by this point created MIDI demos with some recorded audio tracks in Logic, nailing out structures and sounds and other minutia of our songs, coming up with vocal melodies and harmonies, etc. I had also started music for two new songs, tentatively titled Sailing (Track 01) and Oatabix.

Wednesday 13th March

At this point I had noticed something - all of our songs thus-far are mostly mid-tempo, ballad-y sorts of songs, which are great in isolation, but a good album needs variation. Look at my favourite concept album, American Idiot, for example - it has a nice blend of short, punky songs (American Idiot, She’s A Rebel), longer, more operatic songs (Jesus of Suburbia, Homecoming), and slower ballads (Are We the Waiting, Wake Me Up When September Ends). Noting this, I decided to make our opening track Sailing a faster, more exciting, more direct and more simple, back-to-basics rocker, and attempt to come up with at least one other new song in a similar vein, as Oatabix was another slow-burner.

Wednesday 20th March

Finding it very difficult to come up with more exciting songs than the ones we have already, we turned our attention to first tidying up the lyrics we had written thus far, and then finishing off all of the lyrics for Behind Dark Glasses, Sins of the Father and Buchanan Street. Noting that is was getting very close to April, the month in which we had initially planned to begin our recording process, we chatted briefly about recording avenues, and decided to record at West College Scotland’s Greenock campus, as we know Andrew McDermid who works there, and my collaborator guaranteed that we could get in. For the recordings I decided I am going to re-amp all of my guitars, meaning I will get perfect performances recorded at home into my computer which I can then bring into the studio to be re-recorded through amplifiers, in order to save time in the studio. I am going to do guitars and bass and program any synth parts, and Mark is going to do all the vocals, and we are going to get my friend and longtime collaborator Jake Fisher to do the drums.

Wednesday 27th March

Another week of no correspondence from Mark, I was beginning to get very stressed. However, we arranged to meet up in a studio on the upcoming Friday and hopefully blast out as much as we possibly can in the three hours allotted.

[fuckyeahbotany-blog]

Cheats For Unturned

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