#probably my magnum opus even if it's not perfect

[the-sunlit-earth]

Talvas, playing errand boy, stops to try out some of this "Hot Cocoa"☕ that Fethis had imported. Talvas loves it! ..Oh? This scarf? W-Why are you asking who gave it to him? Stop teasing, you're making him blush! 😳

[devosin]

" 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 "

It wasn't the usual request, when you asked your partner to do your make-up . . but now you're here, while he tries his best to paint you like a canvas . . Ft. dorm leaders + ortho & grim

gender neutral reader / established relationship / some sections are suggestive / mean!vil(?!) / slightly self indulgent / squirmy / fidgety reader / semi-edited / proofread (I skimmed it over a couple times) / platonic for ortho & grim / confident!Idia(?) . . I got carried away / slightly rushed on some parts (Azul) /

a/n: new account who this? (old account is @/cupids-chambers)

"Ah— fuck", Leona mutters, clearly displeased, leaning closer into your face to inspect his mistake, carelessly he dragged his finger down the bottom of your lip, hoping to wipe away the remnants of his careless mistake.

"Happy now?", he asked, leaning back, crossing his arms as a shit-eating grin adorned his face, admiring the work of art he had created on your face, though he'd never quite admit how gorgeous you looked, right now—if he was an artist, you'd be his magnum opus—of course a brilliant art piece can only be made with an equally brilliant muse.

Your hand gently grazed over your face—Leona was surprisingly good at make-up, despite struggling in the beggining, you accidentally let a word of praise slip past your lips—which earns you a cocky chuckle from the man—"Told ya', I'm great at everything."

Vil's hand gripped your thigh, holding your legs still and in place—his other hand, gently lifted your chin, facing you towards him, your gaze meeting his—"Hold still for me dear", were the words he spoke, his tone firm and commanding.

You could smell the cologne he used from this level of closeness—and you're sure that if you leant a little closer and stuck your tongue out, you'd be able to taste it—The familiar and comforting, clean earthy-musk scent, you've gotten so accustomed too, the scent whic—"Y/n, darling—are you listening?"

When you don't respond, he clicks his tongue in annoyance, the grip on your thigh tightening in response, and you winced at the shift in demeanor, "Ah my apologies, I did tell you to hold still . . . did I not, my love?"

Malleus's hand grazed the side of your cheek, his movements gentle as he tilts your face towards his, your eyes finally making contact.

His gaze seemed so focused—so entirely enraptured by you—he noted all the details of your face, and engraved it in his brain—the curve of your nose, the plump soft flesh of your lips . . The way your pupils dilated upon eye contact—you were so perfect, tooth-rottenly sweet.

He gripped the liner in his free hand, eyeing your face curiously, "Ah—close your eyes for me, my dear—please?" . . He watched as you closed your eyes tightly, as if on instinct—'Dear seven why were you so fucking adorable?'

He chuckled softly, "This won't do—" he spoke casually, his thumb gently traced the bottom of your lips, "Relax my love, stop squirming . ."

"Rosebud, I don't think I was the right person to ask for help on something like this . . ", Riddle mumbles, as he runs the brush through your face with such accurate precision, although he seemed to be so very against the idea of doing your makeup, aware that he'd probably mess up . . Riddle still found himself agreeing to your request.

"Stop smiling this isn't funny", he spoke, his voice was gentle—although you could tell, he was trying to sound angrier, though he was failing miserably.

Riddle had done a great job, despite his various protests, he was practically straddling you, with how close he was right now, Riddle was asked to do something well, and he was committed . . . even if that meant being this close to you . . Something, he unsurprisingly, wasn't use to—or at least something he didn't personally initiate often.

Kalim giggled as he fiddled around with the makeup brush in his hands, he carefully tapped the extra product off the blush before gently gliding the brush over your face—he tried his best to not overdo the blush.

Kalim had made quite a few mistakes during this whole process, on account of his fidgety hands and general inability to remain still—"There, all done!", he announced proudly, as you examine his work—"You look gorgeous", he mumbled out unconsciously.

Though at your lack of response he grew a bit concerned, "Ah—I'm sorry, I probably took a lot of time . . Right?", he asked, his tone more apologetic, than proud . . until he noticed the shift in your demeaner—"Though—as they say—you can't rush perfection!" he joked, trying to lighten the air once more, thankfully it worked, as he watched the concern on your face morph into that of content.

Azul held the eye shadow palette up in the air, trying to figure out which shade would best suit the look he was going for, he had quite limited options . . not that you had a few eye shadow options, just that the pallets you had, had a limited shade range.

Azul dapped the brush into the navy eye shadow, "I'll use this as a base, if that's okay with you?" he asked for confirmation, and only proceeded after you nodded. "You know . . you could be a makeup artist . . I heard Vil's looking for a new on—" you spoke up with a smile, a teasing edge to your words that caused Azul to smile.

His fingers lightly tapped the side of your cheek, "No, this is just for you, all for you."

Idia was hunched over, in front of you, hand gripping the bottom of your chin, lifting you up to meet his gaze, "Could you like, part your lips for me?", he asked, gripping the lip liner in his other hand, "Yes, just like that" he grinned as you followed his demand, his thumb dragging just below your lip, pulling it just a bit more apart.

He dragged the liner carefully, following the outline of your lips, then grabbed the lip shade he had in mind, filling in your lips . . "Shit, got put too much on—" he paused, "let me just—", he leaned down, your lips meeting his for a soft, lingering kiss, "there . . perfect . ."

Ortho fiddled around with your lip options, fingers digging through your makeup bag, for something that could work. Well, you found out Ortho could match your makeup with colour theory, artificial intelligence and all. But what started as a harmless experiment, and fun activity, now had you glued to a chair for the past hour.

Ortho held up his lipstick of choice, "How about this one?" he asked curiously, and before you could respond Grim piped in, "Too dark, makes them look like a—", your glare cut him off, "never mind, it looks great! . . henchman looks amazing in everything!!"

@ devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[superectojazzmage]

Watched the Nimona movie last night. Review I guess. It was pretty damn good. Definitely would’ve probably been regarded as Blue Sky’s magnum opus if they’d gotten to release it instead of being fucked over by Disney. Very cute, very funny, very powerful in the right moments. A thing that stuck out to me is that it’s really only an adaptation in the loosest sense of the word. It takes the core premise and beats of the comic but is functionally an entirely different kind of story that does its own thing. And given that ND Stevenson was heavily involved in production, I suspect that was intentional.

The comic was much darker and more downbeat in a lot of ways, plus it was significantly longer and thus could afford to be slower paced. But more than that, it was a lot more meaty in terms of themes and scope. The whole “LGBT allegory” element was there, but it wasn’t the sole focus, the comic was a story about a lot of different things; not just an LGBT experience, but also discussion of fantasy genre tropes and clichés, criticism of other fantasy deconstructions, character study, exploring what it means to be a hero or villain, critique of the glorification of crime and cruelty in underprivileged communities, corruption in governments, peer pressure, the senseless and self-perpetuating nature of violence, the worthlessness of revenge, etc.. And above all that, it was a story about trauma and people’s responses to it, with Ballister representing people who actually deal with their problems and move on while Nimona represented people who let their mistakes and suffering and grief consume their identity, or worse, use it as an excuse to indulge their worst qualities and take out their feelings on everyone around them.

The movie, by contrast, has a much more narrow focus. The LGBT allegory is front and center and basically the entire focal point of the movie, aside from a spattering of themes about the danger of zealotry and rigid fundamentalist thinking. This gives the movie a much tighter narrative and pacing that suits its inherently shorter runtime, but also leads to a ton of changes to the story either to convey a different kind of message or just work better in a different medium. Most obviously in how Nimona is vastly more sympathetic in the movie and essentially really is the silly gremlin the comic fakes you out into thinking she is, scrapping the comic’s twist that she was a genuinely bad person who was completely serious about wanting to be a villain, caring nothing for the lives she destroyed with her behavior and idolizing Ballister because she thought he was the same as her and would thus tell her what she wanted to hear (i.e., that she was justified in killing and destroying everything around her in the name of getting even). And in the changes to the Institution’s history and nature. And all sorts of other things.

All in all, I feel if you go in comparing and contrasting the movie and the comic, arguing which changes are for the better or worse, you’ll be setting yourself up for disappointment in either direction because they’re two different beasts and it’s like comparing apples and oranges. So keep that in mind if you’re a fan of the comic watching the movie or a fan of the movie wanting to look into the comic. I think ultimately I still like the comic better, but that’s purely my personal opinion and there’s plenty that I think the movie did better.

Some other observations:

Riz Ahmed my beloved, thank you Mr. Stevenson for this perfect casting. Literally perfect for Ballister.

Acting in general was very good. You can tell this was a passion project for a lot of people, not just Stevenson.

Only two changes that are objectively bad are Ambrosius losing his awesome Van Halen hairdo and changing Ballister’s last name — Blackheart is a way cooler name than Boldheart and it’s a pointless change, one that I’d argue even hurts the narrative since it makes it too obvious that Ballister isn’t actually a bad guy.

The animation is really great with fantastic expressions, stylish movement, and wonderful aesthetics that perfectly suit the story, but there’s times where it feels a little off. But there are parts where it looks less “movie” and more “cheap mid-2000s CGI-and-Flash cartoon show from France”.

The humor can be a hit and miss, in a “going through the motions of a Hollywood animated comedy for kids” way. The movie excels when it’s either imitating the comic’s Old Internet sense of humor or going hard on the drama, but there’s bits where it seemingly slams on the brakes to do Illumination-esque Twitter humor and those bits definitely throw off the vibe.

Having an actual straight up attempted suicide in the climax was shockingly ballsy. I genuinely can’t believe they went there, but I’m glad they did because the film wouldn’t have felt nearly as raw without it.

I don’t know how they managed to make the Director even more of an asshole than in the comics, but they did.

[thequeenofsarcaasm]

Let me present to you the last thing I will ever write Canary in a coal mine

I will never come up with anything better so why even bother? If you read it, please pay attention to the details. I channeled my inner Isayama for this. Will probably fail my internship because I was too busy brainstorming.

Summary:

In which Gojo is an award winning young author, who in order to write his last book, what he believes will be his magnum opus, decides to seek out and approach a highly sought after sex worker on whose experience he hopes to be able to base his novel.

Extract:

"Hello, pretty boy. What brings you here?” he purrs, body now resting on the flat scene. It’s like a perverse song, the chant of a siren, but also warm like the summertime. Perfect. So perfect that he sounds fabricated, no longer human. He’s an accident begging to happen. A storm fighting not to break.

“I’m writing a book,” the protagonist says. Eyes glimmering with mirth and perhaps even arousal.

“Oh. Interesting. What kind of book ?” the flying man asks, eyes widening shyly, lips adopting a slight “o” shape to show interest, but only for a second, short enough to avoid breaking character. Everything about him is fake, but he can be made anew.

“A book about you.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

thank you gerry much

It's time forrrrr weekly fic recs! These are my top 3 (to me) fics by some of my favorite authors, but please check their AO3/masterlists because they have so many amazing things to read and sometimes what I love most isn't what you might love most!

This week is transmasc Steve truther, Sleep Token cult leader, @steves-strapcollection/@gerrystamour! Gerry is probably singlehandedly responsible for the transmasculine Steve Harrington tag on AO3 and I couldn't be prouder of his hard work. He also is responsible for the creation of quite possibly the hottest OC to ever exist: our boyfriend, Tig (more below). Cannot put into words how special Ger is to me and this fandom as a whole. As always, read the tags, don't like, don't read, and consider me the personal attack dog for him if you aren't nice 😇 And as with all of the recs, NSFW is below the cut, minors DNI with me or with Gerry!

ger's ao3 | ger's writing tumblr | ger's fandom tumblr

here i have found some peace of mind Rated E | 60,434 words I can't put into words how incredible this is. The moment Ger announced this fic, I was hooked like a damn fish. It's his pride and joy, his magnum opus, his gift to the world. One of many favorite lines: “Steve, you just sucked my soul out of my cock , don’t be fucking modest,” Eddie laughed, lifting his hands to dig the heels of his palms into his eyes. “We didn’t even make it to my bunk, Steve. I had everything set up, then you came in here and got on your knees like the perfect wet dream you are, and you’re gonna act like you don’t know exactly how good you are?”

i could be honest, i could be human Rated E | 48,581 words This fic. HOOOOOO BOY. This fic has it all. It has the angst, it has the soft boys, it has the idiots, it has the gentle tender nasty fuckin'. And its follow up properly introduces TIG. i can't tell where you end and where i start is the first time I read anything so focused on an OC, especially when it's Steve and an OC. Tig is built different. He is and always will be our boyfriend. And let me just say, for the record, he is even hotter than this fic gives him credit for. He's been even MORE developed since and god help us all. Favorite thing: Just the fact that we've been given an OC that is so incredible. He's inspired people to do more with OCs and I think it's great. Tig is my hero, and Ger is my hero for making him THE hottest fictional man to ever exist.

you're in the walls that i made with crosses and flames Rated E | 7,659 words This was a birthday fic for @legitcookie (who will be featured on a rec soon!) and I would venture to say it may be one of the most romantic tender fuckin' scenes I've read to date. Ger sent me the scene from Atonement and I...changed as a human. Favorite lines: “Stevie,” Eddie breathed, the corners of his mouth ticking upward in something close to a smile, even as the next fluttering blink had the tears barely clinging to his lashes falling down his cheeks.

And Steve was helpless, staring up at the beautiful man in his arms, and he had to blink his own tears away as they blurred his vision. “Eds,” he said, not even bothering to hide just how awed and overwhelmed he was to have Eddie like this again. Steve made a promise to himself that he would make up for every single day he made this man feel unwanted, unworthy, unloved.

[whumpookies]

Hi there,

I am new to the community and your blog  is one of my favorites. I am planning on taking part in my first Whumptober. I am planning on mostly writing but maybe creating some gif sets too.. we'll see. I see you have participated in the past and was wondering if you had any tips because right now I am getting stressed about not getting everything made in time and my planning is an absolute messssss.

Thank you!

I hope your week is full of cookies and other sweet treats.

X

Aww Anookie

Welcome to our part of Whumpler, and well done to you for jumping into the madness that is @whumptober

Seriously, it’s like signing up for a marathon but forgetting how to run while holding a tray of eggs and fighting a Zombie on a Tuesday afternoon.

But hey, you’ve got this (mostly, I think).

First off, remember Whumptober is a challenge for you—not for the world, your followers, or your overachieving mutuals with their perfect mood boards (those mood boards would have taken three weeks and probably a mild dose of losing the will to live, yes even your mutuals get stressed).

So here are a few survival tips from someone who has somehow lived through it:

1. Combine Prompts Like a Pro: If you can blend two (or three... or ten) prompts into one creation, DO IT. This is a game of efficiency, not perfection.

2. Follow the Inspiration: If a prompt is calling your name, do it first. Don’t sit there stressing over a prompt that makes you go “mehhhhhh” when you’ve got a killer idea for one later down the line. Jump around the list, no one’s going to slap your wrist.

3. Perfection is Overrated: Your writing doesn’t have to be a 50k-word magnum opus. Honestly, one-shots, drabbles, or even a glorified paragraph will do. It’s the whump that counts, not the word count.

4. Gif Sets? Just Vibe: If you’re making gifs, go for something that grabs your attention. You don’t need 20 frames of perfection—sometimes one killer moment is enough (trust me @99point9percentwhump can contest this).

5. Don’t Burn Yourself Out: You’re allowed to take a day off. Drafts are your friend, schedule them to the day and pre-tag them; this is not the Whumptober Hunger Games, so pace yourself, hydrate, and binge-watch whump when you feel it getting to much.

Basically, Whumptober is chaos, but it’s the fun kind of chaos. So, stop stressing and just enjoy the ride. You’ve got this, and if you don’t, there’s always next year; participation is just as good as completion! 😉

May your whumperflies be everlasting, and your cookies forever comforting.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

top 5 wips you’re most excited to write? :D

AH …. anon my beloved 🥺🥺🥺 tysm for giving me an excuse to talk about them!!!! i have a whole bunch but here are the ones i’m most excited for/planning to write soon :3 hopefully

TITLES ARE STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION BTW but if you know where any of them are from you get a big gold star ⭐️

it’s your touch that i need

the best friend’s brother!satoru fic that i’m planning on posting next….. i’m . Unsure if i’ll have time to post it this week but :’3 i’ll get it done!!! honestly i just think bfb!toru is insanely attractive so this is mostly an outlet for that but . i have a plot mapped out kind of… the unrequited love trope is just perfect for him but it’s Me so it’ll probably be less angsty and more funny/bittersweet !!

here’s a snippet from it <3

”you’re a good kid,” he says, and his smile teeters on the edge of something apologetic. mostly, it’s pitying. ”there are lots of people out there for you.” the weight of his palm on your head is usually a comfort, but like this? it’s a specific kind of torture. he ruffles your hair, as affectionate as ever, the same as it’s always been. not a trace of any romantic intent. there are lots of people out there for you. (i know, you want to tell him, but your voice is raspy and your throat feels sort of dry. i know. but i want you.)

hunter, you were human

my neglected mer!sugu fic…… our beloved fish man….. one day. i’ll write it out. i’m having some trouble deciding the order of events + general formatting of the outline so 😭😭 i’m a bit stuck. i’ll get there though!!! this au has angst potential but it’s Me so trust that this will be fluffy and nothing else. lots of banter and cutesy moments. i have a lotttt of thoughts about this au and character/reader dynamic so….. i’m. really excited to eventually write it all out!!! i love him sm :cc

“i don’t really like freshwater.” … your eyes widen. his voice is silky, smooth, like a silver river running from the forked tip of his tongue; a melodic lilt that makes you think of the lullaby your mother used to sing you to sleep with. a long, slow moment passes you by, like the rocking of a rusty ship. silently, your tongue forms around a bundle of words, your mouth gaping like a fish out of water. staring at the merman in your bathtub. “you can talk?!”

consider the hairpin turn

THE BELOVEDEST OF THEM ALL …… my extremely neglected best friend’s brother!kenjaku fic T_T my magnum opus even . i started writing it out a while ago but had to stop bc i can’t decide how to format it …. i think it’d be best to tell the story through a lot of flashbacks but it’s difficult to decide where to put what flashbacks in a way that doesn’t disturb the flow, yk??? but i do have everything outlined and i’m super excited to finally post it :33 someday… bfb!kenny is the actual loml i have so much lore planned for him. this fic is just a whole bunch of yearning and tension… the tiniest tiniest bit suggestive bc he truly makes me ill.

nervously, your gaze trails towards the stairs. worried, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. kenjaku notices. a large palm cradles your cheek; making sure your eyes stay locked onto his own. ”don't worry about him,” he soothes, a rough thumb smoothing down your skin. ”it’s just us here… just you and me. why don’t you take a deep breath for me, hm?” (you do. without thinking. as if your body was waiting for instructions, waiting to satiate this gnawing desire to impress him, make him proud. be good for him.)  “now,” he exhales, in tandem with you, molecules mingling together. “do you want this?” 

only in the next world

ANOTHER DEARLY BELOVED WIP that’s been rotting in my drafts for a while ….. 👉👈 i think that out of all of these fics this is the first one that i wrote the outline to?? probably even before i made this blog. it’s basically just a canon-aligned au where gojo navigates his maybe-possibly-feelings for you, a new teacher at jujutsu high!! sooo really just my attempt to write what i view as a more canon-aligned gojo and his feelings towards love :3 mostly character-centered fluff and slowburn… some office au vibes…. i’m very fond of this reader!! and i love this version of gojo so bad i really hope i can do him justice…

“they’re a softie, huh?” shoko exhales — smoke drifting past her lungs, mingling with the cold air, a stench of tobacco that makes him crinkle his nose. ”they are,” she hums, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. a dangerously knowing look. “it’s not often someone captures your attention.” gojo smiles. ”is that what it seems like?” he drawls, almost a chuckle. closing his eyes and thinking of you, the fading scent of your perfume. ”well, who knows.” (certainly not him.)

signs of affection

my sickeningly fluffy cult leader geto fic <333 bc i’m spreading the agenda that he is a puppy of a man towards his s/o. this one is just meant to be funny and sweet!! i adoreee the thought of him dating a retired sorcerer with a normal ass job so in this one the reader works at a preschool…. and they’re meant to attend some kind of event for the preschool + is offered to bring a plus one. mild chaos ensues (geto doesn’t want to be anywhere near your non-sorcerer colleagues but he also wants to support you so he’s having a bit of a crisis rn…..) i LOVE this one and i’m so excited to write it out <333333 i think this geto is the most endearing man alive.

suguru blinks, eyelashes fluttering, gleaming under the shallow light of the lamppost just behind him. illuminating the peach-dyed flush dusting his ears, those wide pupils. and his lips, glossy with something cherry-flavoured, soon to curl up into a smile — fond, fond, fond. melting into your touch, basking in your long-sought attention. if he were a cat, you’re sure he'd be purring. he places one big palm over yours, where it rests on his cheek, and he stares. silently, like you’re the only thing worth seeing; dreamy galaxies inside his eyes, all honey and star clusters, leaking adoration. a milky way of love. ”… another,” he pleads, nosing at your fingertips.

[juniperhillpatient]

thank you SO much @missjessefantastico for the tag <3 ALSO EVERYONE READ THIS SERIES ABOUT VAMP WILLOW, THE UNDERRATED HYENA KIDS, & MORE!!! It's so good btvs fans who love underexplored ideas & characters pspspsps

20 Questions For Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 19

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 3,027,073

3. What fandoms do you write for? It's been Avatar the Last Airbender for the past few years. I have an old & probably not-good Rick & Morty fic up. Before that, I had some IT fics. I've got an orphaned fic for scream & one for house of 1000 corpses.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

the benefits of getting a flat tire this is Zuko running away from home & running right into the gaang - also uncovering some family mysteries & reconciling with Azula. modern au. it's Zukka & aw I'm nostalgic for those early days of mine in the fandom

if this were a movie this is basically an ATLA Hollywood Au. Zukka & Azutara. Past Jetko. I was happy with some of the dramatic moments in this fic.

not another high school au lord help me lmao. I'm SO sorry if you are reading this & you happen to love this fic but it's not the thing I'm most proud of. this is basically just me dipping my toes into writing ATLA modern AUs & in that sense I guess it's nostalgic? this is the fic I wrote as a newbie to the fandom just trying it out & I still do lovingly appreciate everyone who was kind & welcoming in those early days!

six feet under ATLA TVD AU MY BELOVED OMG. this is a vampire diaries au. there are no 1:1 translations but azula is damon, katara is a mix of jeremy & elena & so is sokka, zuko is stefan & YEAH. also aang is bonnie & iirc I probably even gave toph something fun to do. ozai is Katherine which is forever hilarious to me. yeah, this was a fun fic.

5. in search of glorious happenings of happenstance this fic is about nothing & everything at the same time. atla/modern world fusion with the four nations existing but also it's modern. all the atla teens/kids are going to college at ember island university & the fic takes place across a year. it's slice of life, comedy, drama, & chaos. lots of ships but I think azutara & jet/zuko/jin are probably, at the end of the day, the romances that are at the heart of this story although platonic relationships are also pretty important in this fic, IMO as much as romances. it's probably my magnum opus or something.

Do you respond to comments? yes <3 I am sometimes slow & I am not perfect but I TREASURE comments & do attempt to let people know as much. I write for myself, I post for the connections I make along the way.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? the devil you know for sure. this is my atla/scream modern au. I talk about it constantly because I'm so insanely proud of it but if you don't know it's exactly what it sounds like. it's horror & tragedy that I feel really proud of & I do think those elements are at the heart of my writing passion despite me usually being a bit nervous about using them. so. I'm proud of this fic. & it has a very bittersweet ending but the tragedy is...there's a lot of tragedy. no more spoilers because I want people to read this!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? most of my fics have decently happy endings despite me claiming to prefer tragedy lol. I seem to recall the things we leave behind (mailee youtuber au with jetko & auztara. & they were roommates!) having a tooth rottingly fluffy ending lol

8. Do you get hate on fics? not really. it's happened before but it's not a big thing.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? sometimes I write the smutty scenes from my fics then save it only for myself. no you can't see. it's probably terrible. there's some shitty zucest smut of mine out there somewhere but I'm not sure it's any good & couldn't tell you where to find it lol

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I think the AUs I write are called "fusion" because it's more "inserting characters into another world & the characters of that world aren't a thing." but my fic the balance of things was actually a crossover with characters from both wizards of waverly place & atla interacting. also I wrote THIS one-shot that's a crossover between the game the coffin of andy & leyley & the show wizards of waverly place. I didn't post it on ao3 but I'm just saying.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?  I don't think so?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have vague memories of doing this with this girl I was online friends with back in my fanfic.net days, years ago. I think it was Destiel.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? to write? I don't have one right now. I think maybe I got kinda burnt out on everything having to be about one ship or whatever rather than just telling the story & maybe that's a small part of why I'm taking a temporary break from fic writing & focusing on an original story so I'm not staying within fandom approved in parameters & I can just do whatever feels right ya know? I like Cisne's answer about any willow ship tho. me with my faves tbh hehe

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? can't think of one but I can think of fanfic ideas I'd like to return to & fully realize after I get back in the mood

16. What are your writing strengths? I like to think I'm okay at characterization although moving away from fanfic & working on something original has me questioning myself constantly!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I'm very lazy & often neglect research. sometimes if I don't know how to explain something I just change the whole scene so i don't have to bother.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? could be neat in the right context!

19. First fandom you wrote for? probably family guy lmao

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? maybe 'in search of glorious happenings of happenstance.' I think 'the devil you know' is objectively the strongest. but happenstance is just such a specific version of the characters that's fun to me? it's one of those two that's my favorite, depending on my mood

this is very long so these tags have even less pressure than usual:

@reythespacebae @theowritesfiction @imaslowlearner-butilearn @chasingfictions @hello-nichya-here @matchamarshmallow @akiizayoi4869 @dont-leafmealone @peony-pearl @lunaintheskyforever

also, anyone who wants to do this just say I tagged you!

[pearlseaa]

it is 3am rn but i literally will never get over my love for malice mizer's demo tape 'Sans Logique', it is one of the most perfectly ethereal pieces of music i have ever graced my ears with.

i love love love it sm i love the polyphonic guitar and the fact it never misses like i would NEVER skip any one of these tracks.

i really like how temptation of widow sounds like the start of an old horror film. i think its worked so well as an opening track since its very fitting that such a visual band such as malice mizer to start off a demo tape with a movie-like introduction.

Shuumaku E no tobira is one of my favourites, i dont know what it is about it exactly but it is more upbeat and the melody in some parts is absolutely beautiful.

Sadness is also such an iconic track, i really enjoy the synth intro that is followed by the guitar. the reverb on it also emphasises imagery of empty or abandoned halls in my mind, i really like when songs create visuals in my head it totally changes the experience. I'd even say it's my #1 song on this demo tape, its such a piece of art.

speed of desperate was way too criminally short, it felt perfect for a movie scene as did the previous songs which is one thing i really like abt this demo and tbh malice mizer as a whole, they are a very visual band which is something i really enjoy to see in music.

i think some ppl disregard this demo in comparison to malice mizer's other eras and some of the reason is probably because of it's lack of vocals but i personally really like it, what's so great about their music is that it works just as well without vocals because the instruments alone carry themselves well enough to not need an accompaniment which i think is really cool although that may be due to me being the kind of person who heavily enjoys film / game soundtracks, it is a extremely overlooked art. component one for music gcse absolutely KILLED ME but the section i did for film music was literally my magnum opus 🙏🙏

[notoriousbeb]

TTPD Notes - The Manuscript (Pt. 3)

TTPD Notes Glossary

"Florida!!!"  

Recorded June 29, 2023; however, I'd wager to guess the first pre-Florence draft of this was first penned earlier, as it probably took a bit of logistics to meet up with Florence in the studio  

While probably a bit about all three recent exes ("So, I did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that have ever been on my body") I'd say it's mostly about one. "And the hurricane with my name [Taylor Russell, is that you entering the chat?], when it came, I got drunk, and I dared it to wash me away. Barricaded in the bathroom with a bottle of wine. Well, me and my ghosts we had a hell of a time."  

If you peruse my timeline, I think you’ll find that the “shitstorm back in Texas” and her need for the release/high of the Tampa shows suddenly snaps into clear focus.  

Why does she want to be told that she’s despicable and unforgivable? The Matty thing is my guess.  

"Guilty as Sin"  

I think this was written pre-Eras Tour, but maybe not recorded until during?  

Interesting note, a few years ago, Harry shared “The Downtown Lights” by The Blue Nile with music journalist Zane Lowe as part of a playlist he put together  

A hedge maze is an outdoor garden maze or labyrinth. In "Labyrinth," she says, "I thought the plane was going down, how'd you turn it right around...I'm falling in love again." To me, this is saying, "I thought we were through, but I am falling in love with you again." And it's a clear reference to the Harry and Taylor of yore — paper airplanes. I am so confused about other people's confusion as to the muse of this song.  

She says she keeps “these longings locked in lowercase inside a vault.” Hmm. Maybe keep an eye out for the “reputation” vault tracks? I know I am.  

“I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)”

See this post

"loml"  

I’m guessing recorded Spring 2023  

Lion references make me think of this image from April 13, 2023 at Electric Lady. Were they shooting a music video for TTPD? If so, gimme now. She’s wearing a Gucci lion ring. From Harry? (If you are unaware, he also has two Gucci lion rings). 

It was legendary, you say? Like, they were “born to be suburban legends” and when he holds you it holds you together and it’s “the only thing that’s holy” (“Guilty as Sin?”)  

I don’t think “you shit-talked me under the table” means he talked shit about her. Harry would never do that. I think it refers to the alternate definition of the term. Like he was talking out of his ass or bullshitting.  

“Love of my Life” is Harry’s only track 13.  

This song makes me cry every time I hear it. Every time. It’s so beautiful, though, so I can’t stop won’t stop. “Dancing phantoms on the terrace/are they second hand embarrassed?” Fuck me all the way up. 

Can you imagine being Joe Alwyn and knowing you put in six years and also knowing this song is not about you? I would simply turn to dust and blow away.  

“I Can Do It with a Broken Heart” 

God, this is such a great goddamn, perfect pop song. It has to be a single, right? 

In my heart and gut, I believe this is about Harry. I really think she’d already processed the Joe breakup before Era’s even started. She didn't love Matty—she said so herself and I believe her. She started the tour strong. But then late April hits and boom she was crying on stage and falling apart. Why? See my crazy Haylor Magnum opus and timeline for my thoughts.

"The Black Dog"  

I didn’t want it to be, but unfortunately, I’m convinced this is about Harry: Regarding the line, “I just don’t understand how you don’t miss me in the shower and remember how my rain-soaked body was shaking,” if you’ll refer to my scary stalker timetable, you’ll see it rained at the first night of the Arlington, Texas, show where I think Harry was.

In the original lyrics, it was “these weeks of breathing clean air” so the timeline means nothing.

Joe didn’t leave with his tail between his legs. She left him (see: “So Long, London” and “Fresh Out the Slammer”). Some might even say she bolted. And Matty was in the states when she wrote the song. But you know who was spotted and pictured in London just days before his Horsens show on May 13? Harry Styles.

Updated June 15, 2025: Joe confirmed to The Sunday Times’ Style magazine that he’s never been to Vauxhall where the Blackdog is located. In the intervening months, Matty Healy has since stated he and Taylor were not serious in any way.

These lyrics are clearly, to me, about someone she was with long term and left (Joe); this muse is someone she had a prior history with who left her—and suddenly. “Was it hazing? For a cruel fraternity I pledged? And I still mean it. Old habits die screaming.” And “Were you making fun of me with some esoteric joke?” “Hazing” and “cruel fraternity” are not apt metaphors for a six-year relationship. But they sure are for a two-week rebound with an on-and-off four-year situationship, though.

She was so, so big mad about Harry being at this bar. Why? Was he not answering her texts or calls/actually or appearing to “avoid her like the plague” as per “I Can Do It with a Broken Heart?” Why is there a girl there with him who is too young to know the Starting Line? Why does Taylor know this girl is there? Is she imaginary? She had better be imaginary! Goddamnit, Harry. I don’t want to be mad at you.

[an-au-blog]

Just craving fluff and imagining College Au Shuggy celebrating the holidays by just doing very unchristmassy things together. They both seem like the type to like certain aspects of Christmas only to then be hit by waves of depression when the actual holiday arrives, so they just huddle under the covers together and watch Christmas classics such as “Die hard” or Gremlins together instead while eating Pizza and drinking eggnog till they can’t stand this stuff for another year. Buggy gives Shanks his gift at 2 am in the morning, an extremely ugly and old tacky sweater he found at a thrift shop a while ago. Shanks can immediately tell that it was cheap and Buggy most likely just went out and got him… SOMETHING, but also it’s hideous in a way he just adores and it has one of his favorite childhood cartoon characters on it and the fact alone Buggy went out and got him something is PERFECT and to Buggy’s horror that thing is gonna be his favorite sweater till the end of time. Buggy on the other hand suffers a mild mental breakdown and “Oh god I am the scum of the earth” reaction because Shanks actually went into a makeup store and got him an expensive eyeshadow Palette that Buggy has been eyeing for a while now. Kicker is Shanks didn’t even know that’s the Palette Buggy wanted, he legit just spent an hour in there with a picture of Buggy describing what Buggy looks for in makeup and what colors he likes and such and such and accidentally just landed on the correct one and rightfully deducted that he would probably like this one.

“WHY DID YOU GO AHEAD AND BUY ME THAT YOU HORRIBLE, UNFLASHY FANTASTIC BOYFRIEND?!” “I thought it would make you happy.” “IT WOULD IF I GOTTEN YOU ANYTHING GOOD AS WELL!! JUST A BED BATH AND BEYOND GIFTCARD WOULD HAVE BEEN WORSE!!” “Come on Buggy I love this thing-“ “THIS IS LIKE GIFT OF THE MAGI IF IT SUCKED EVEN MORE THAN IT ALREADY DOES!” “You could always kiss me to make up for it.” “I ALREADY DO THAT.” “Then let me kiss you… AND you’ll have to let me do it for the entire day without telling me I’m being sappy or disagreeing with me when I talk about how much I love you.” “…. Okay but you’re not allowed to say weird shit about my nose.” “…Can I kiss your nose?” “Ugh. I’ll allow it. But not in public!” “Deal. I won’t talk about how cute and kissable your nose is and I especially won’t talk about how cute and kissable it is in front of other people.” “YOU JUST- AUGH! You’re horrible! An absolutely awful boyfriend!” “Glad to have landed someone as amazing as you then.” “You-“ “Ah! We agreed on not disagreeing when I talk about how great you are!” “….fine.” “I love you... and I love how hard you blush when you can’t answer with a sassy comeback” “….mmmmnnnggghh!!! loveyoutoo.”

At first I was like "awww this is so adorable:')" but thwn I got to the dialogue part and went "ok, so we're assuming they're gonna get together, now are we ahahah"

I'm guessing you're the same anon who sent me a couple other college au asks - so first off: Thank you, you honestly keep me productive and remind me to finish this fic lol (since I named some of the others, maybe I can call you ogan - bc og anon or something idk, you can refuse or give me another nickname if you want...)

But also... have I given any indication that this will be a story with a happy end? Because, I've written ends with a doomed one sided love triangle, one of the main characters being hated by the love of their life and in a hospital, while the one the other was chasing rejected them indefinitely... it was my magnum opus for quite a while, so who's to say I'll give this one an ending like that?

I'm joking, I'm joking... or am I >;]]]

Anyway, I love the idea of them spending the holidays together! Buggy doesn't really have any close relatives to go to, all his friends went home, and thinks that Shanks is the same way, because why else would he stay behind with him?

Shanks is just so happy that he can finally be with his boyfriend. He makes hot cocoa (and it's horrible, but Buggy remakes it), he buys a cardboard cutout of a Christmas tree and they put stickers on it instead of decorations. At one point they start printing out memes and pictures of themselves and stick them on there as well. (Shanks secretly writes a wish, something cheesey like how he wants them to be like this for the rest of their lives, on the back of some of the photos)

In all reality, I believe that "Die Hard" and "Home Alone" (because these two franchises are basically the same, just one is kid coded lol) would be both Shanks and Buggy's favourites. I mean look at how they turned out ahahaha tho I must confess, I've never seen Gremlins, so I'll just trust you on that one':)

I also think thay Buggy would get horrible gifts very purposefully. Like he would look for hours to find the most raggedy and washed out looking sweater with the ugliest print of like... a green cow on red mars with a Christmas hat on both the cow and mars saying "moo-ry christmas" in comic sans or something horrifying like that. Like that one video of the guy who bought a card for the wrong occasion, for wrote a message to someone else and scratched out the name to look like it was a second hand card. I couldn't find the og video but I found this tiktok, hope it helps with the explanation.

In my mind Buggy thinks it's hilarious. Him and Shanks both love pranks and just jokes like this in general, so he would get it, right? Shanks liking it unironically wasn't in the plan. But then bad comes to worse and Shanks takes gift giving seriously - Buggy is caught off guard.

I love the image of Shanks standing in the cosmetics section of a big store that was one of the best according to google. He's just staring intensely, and color checking, and googling, and staring again - trying his best to remember everything Buggy had told him about make-up.

At some moment in the time he's searching, one of the workers there goes up to him to see if he needs help thinking "aw, poor lost man looking for something for his girlfriend, he looks like he needs help" and then Shanks shows her a picture of an honest to God clown going "I want the best for my boyfriend". And they have a little "This is your man?" "yeah" "Look at the picture" "that's mine :')" "and you're ok with this?" "imma stick beside him " moment. And then they just start looking together. Before they notice it's a whole horde of helpers and Shanks going all, "is that teal? I think he said he loves teal, but not one with glitter, wait, bring back the cherry red. Can you compare it to the sour cherry. Which one would match his lipstick best? This one's his favorite." and they're like a council, super invested at that point.

I also like to think that on new years eve, they're watching a marathon, and Buggy just falls asleep on Shanks's chest halfway through. He does that often and Shanks loves it. He doesn't even care that much that sometimes his make-up would be imprinted on his shirt .

Shanks showing love to Buggy's nose, despite his insecurities, makes me melt. (spoilers ig:) I was going to have a little dialogue/confrontation that portrayed that, but I was going to make it a "Shanks not caring about it and just acting like it's not there" thing, but him actually thinking it's cute and being all loving towards the one thing he's most insecure about is actually way better. I might utilize it later on lol :))

[industria-adastra]

[WMMAP] - Magnum Opus: Flipping through a child's eulogy (3/5)

Prev - Next

Summary: It’s strange, trying to get used to a new puzzle piece in her incomplete picture. But Jennette is kind, and with the waves of change alongside her. So Athanasia dares to hope.

But it is not to be.

Note: Sorry this took a while but admittedly this took a lot longer than I expected. Chapter 3 ended up getting split but this is where most of the build-up is for before the anvil really drops in this now 5-parter of LP timeline Athy's moral bankruptcy arc.

-----

After the disastrous event that was her debut—By the sun and stars of Obelia she had a sister —Athanasia found herself staring, empty-eyed, up at the ceiling. She had no real idea of how she even got herself back to her room, or how and why no one seemed to stop her. If only to bombard her with invasive questions about her as the nobles had done so earlier.

But then again, they were probably all occupied with Jennette, weren't they? A new princess, who looked far lovelier than the forgotten princess in blue. Jennette Margarita, a shining new piece on the chessboard of noble politics. 

Athanasia rolls over to stare emptily at the overgrown greenery beyond the window. The glass is one of the only objects still sparkling clean compared to the rest of the dusty rooms in the palace. 

Lily must’ve cleaned it earlier. 

The garden, as beautiful as it was, was wild and overgrown. How many years had it been since someone took proper care of it? Her body curls within herself, drawing her eyes away.

A cold weight settles itself on her shoulder. Strokes her in a comforting manner with only the brush of freezing air to alert Athanasia to her mama’s movement. 

A few minutes later, that cold hand is replaced by another much warmer one.

“I…heard about it. Your debut, that is. What happened during it was…” Lily trails off, unable to find a perfect word to encapsulate this entire situation.

And then, she shakes her head, her resolve strengthening. “But you should know, Princ—No, Athanasia —that no matter what happens, I’ll always be by your side.” Her hand moved to comb through her hair, delicate fingers picking out the hidden ties within her hair. “And you know why?”

Athanasia stays silent, merely turning her head to look up at Lily.

“Because I promised, remember? And you know that, if it’s you, Athanasia, I will always, always, keep my promises to you.”

(Diana takes the moment to let her emotions be known, an all-encompassing wave that cocoons Athanasia in its warmth. Smooth like silk and gentle to the touch, it was all too easy to understand.)

And if Athanasia’s eyes start to overflow with tears, and her body begins to shake, neither Lily nor Diana makes any comment about it. They simply stay beside her. A silent comfort.

-

With the sudden reveal of Jennette—a potential new heir—everything was thrown into chaos. Both nobles and commoners gossip and whisper, wondering about the royal family. Of changes in relationships and the succession of the royal family. Since Jennette Margarita was older, would whoever married her become emperor instead? (Groups of noble boys sigh in relief, because although they could not remember what Jennette looked like in detail, they remembered a girl who was so lovely and beautiful beyond comparison. Her image buzzed in their minds like a persistent fly.)

But, most said, wouldn’t you think it’s a terribly one-sided battle?

After all, how would the second princess, the daughter of a lowborn commoner and unknown to all, even compare to the lovely Margarita girl? 

Rumours fly from the mouths of the members of the most exciting debutante of His Majesty’s age. About Jennette Margarita—now Jennette de Alger Obelia—they would say, sweet and kind and perhaps with a head sometimes up in the clouds, but ever so darling and dear, the new princess of theirs. About Athanasia de Alger Obelia, they’d sneer, gloomy and despondent, who would ever want her?

And so, and so, everyone waits with bated breath to see whether their speculations will be proven correct.

And they would be, time and time again, until one day they’d be pulled from the peak of their euphoria, down into the flames of hell and horror.

-

When they first meet, it is within the boundary of the Ruby Palace, in an overgrown field of grass and wildflowers and weeds.

Athanasia is practising her magic again, lying under the cooling shade of a large tree. Raven lies nearby, and her mother watches on with interest. The whispers and wailing in her ears have all but stopped after the trainwreck that was her debut, but still, Athanasia prefers the quiet open of this area. Better than the confining, decaying air of the Ruby Palace. Only Lily made it seem alive in there. But today she seems to be busier than usual, so Athanasia has quietly left her to her work.

Her black-blue mana weaves shapes in the air, dancing through the plants, giving energy to some, taking energy from others. It crackles and pops as it does so, staccato beats following a discordant rhythm. 

Today is a fine day.

Until, of course, there’s a sudden intrusion in the form of her newly “discovered” older sister. Athanasia immediately stops any usage of magic, wary, but puts on a polite smile in greeting. A question blooms within both her and her mother’s minds as they wonder: What would Jennette Margarita be like in relative privacy?

Unknowingly, Jennette offers a rather positive answer to that.

“Hello! You’re Athanasia, right? I’m so glad I finally got to meet you!” Jennette beams at her, lowering herself to clasp Athanasia’s hands in her own. Athanasia, in turn, fights the urge to flinch away at the suddenness of her actions. She seemed…highly forward, and almost brash in her approach. 

But, it wasn’t like this eagerness to know herself, know Athanasia as a person, from her new… sister wasn’t wanted. Athanasia wonders if she could get used to it. Get used to positive attention from a different member of her family (not from the one she truly desired it from).

Warmth blooms, just a little. But it’s there. Maybe she still could. Maybe she could.

Athanasia simply opts to listen, watching Jennette ramble on about her long-lived desire to meet her, watching her grow more and more nervous. Raven, now having surreptitiously moved over to her lap, watches Jennette carefully. 

Jennette is an open person, speaking of endless details about herself, to the point where one would think she’d never learned the meaning of the word “discreet”. Athanasia learns about Jennette’s favourite flowers (daisies), her favourite colour (blue), her favourite pastimes, and her hopes and dreams for her newly reunited family.

She doesn’t have the heart to tell her that their father, whilst a good and just man, is not one to offset his work in order to spend time with his children. So she smiles, and answers every question Jennette goes on to ask her with polite, near-perfunctory answers. 

Athanasia takes the time to take in Jennette’s features—the brief glances during her debut, marred by her despair, were not enough to form a good image of her within her mind. And Athanasia, as much as she tries, cannot fathom how this is her sister of another mother. Jennette’s hair is brown, a trait inherited from her mother, where generations of their family had been blond. The only thing she can find that even remotely reminds her of their father is Jennette’s jewel-blue eyes, and even then, they gleam with green when the sunlight passes over them.

Jennette’s features are, strangely enough, like a mirage. An aura of magic coats her skin; something lurks, trapped beneath her flesh, thick and sticky yet as flexible as water. It pulls at the light, softening her features and sharpening them at the same time, as if her creator still could not make up his mind on how he wished for her to look. Still, it always tries its best to make Jennette look as physically attractive as possible. Athanasia recognises this kind of magic, having entangled her hands within similar variations.

Black magic. Forbidden magic. Layers upon layers of it, as if it were the makeup of her sister’s existence.

Strange. Should she question Jennette about it? While she’s still chattering away at her? Athanasia mulls upon this decision, unconsciously starting to comb her fingers through Raven’s thick fur.

Unfortunately, it isn’t long before a maid calls for Jennette, pulling her away from the odd Second Princess with distrustful eyes. They do not trust her with her new sister. Evidently, they read too many melodramatic novels.  

Now that Jennette has left, her mother comes closer, having observed the entire interaction. And Athanasia sees that her gaze is cold, as they watch Jennette move further away from the Ruby Palace. 

She wonders where Jennette lives, if not in the Ruby Palace like her. (Whichever palace it was, it would be one more well-loved than hers)

“Could you feel it too, Mother?” She asks, staring at this icy version of her always-warm mother. “There’s so much magic woven within her, and it’s… different from how the mages of the Black Tower feel. I can barely even feel anything similar to my mana, the royal family’s mana, because most of it—” She pauses, and sees her mother tense, looking pointedly away.  Athanasia pretends she doesn’t see it. “Most of it feels like… Black magic. Forbidden, cursed, magic.”

It takes a while for her mother to respond.

“The Penelope I knew—or rather, the emperor told me about—was never magically inclined. Ambitious and beautiful, but with barely an ounce of usable mana to become even a low-level mage.” Her mother still doesn’t look at her. Athanasia is unsure what to make of this strange non-answer.

“So, it’s artificial then? I assume it would be before birth, as otherwise, I believe she would not be quite so… her . But whyever would Father agree to such procedures? I didn’t think he’d be the kind of person to willingly subject his family to such danger. Even if Penelope Judith must’ve asked for it. Especially since our bloodline practically guarantees some degree of usable mana compared to others.” It’s a puzzling thought for Athanasia, an uncomfortable, squirmy sort of thought. Father, the holy Emperor of Obelia, someone who’d sink his hands up to his forearms in forbidden magic? Athanasia banishes that thought as quickly as possible. 

Diana cannot bear to tell her daughter what the voices have told her, what her memories are telling her. That Penelope Judith had only lain with Claude’s brother. That Jennette was unlikely to be his daughter. That Claude knew this and yet was more welcoming to his own niece than a daughter he had with someone he had so desperately claimed to love. So she chooses her words carefully, measuring them within her mind before allowing them to fall from her lips.

“...I think, Athy, that—” Diana’s face is unsteady, a crack in the glass as she abruptly stops. “—that when it comes to people we love, we may not always know them as well as we think we do, because there are so many facets to a person.” 

Vague, vague, vague. Her mother’s answer is vague and does little to calm her with its implications. But Athanasia doesn’t want to argue. 

“I know.” That is all Athanasia says in reply, and that is all she leaves it to be.

(Hate was so easy to cultivate these days, when one’s emotions were connected to those of others.)

Such blissful ignorance is something she wants to keep her only child cradled safely within, if only so she would not be further hurt. She descends to wrap her arms around Athanasia, her only treasure, her most precious beloved child.

They sit in silence together for a little while longer. Yet, Athanasia notes, as she looks up at the darkening sky, it seems like a storm would come. And soon.

-

Jennette Margarita…no, Jennette de Alger Obelia is an enigma to her. An enigma through her very existence and how she is. How she treats everyone. 

An older half-sister she’d never met, with a personality she’d never gotten accustomed to. She is a cheerful, sunny girl in contrast to Athanasia’s dark and gloomy disposition. Forceful in her own ways like a gentle force of nature. Athanasia doesn’t think she’s a particularly bright girl, not instinctively picking up on how and why the servants and guards react like so depending on which princess they’re encountering. Jennette didn’t seem particularly well-read either, having seemingly been kept within an isolated bubble for a large part of her years. A bubble that was tailored to how her previous guardians saw fit to design. A bubble that she accepted without much thought. 

Athanasia had torn apart her own bubble a long, long time ago.

But Jennette is kind. At the very least, she treats her with the desire to become close. And perhaps, that is what draws Athanasia toward her, like a moth finding another source of light to hold onto. A little bit more affection to have and consume, another island in a sea of apathy. She isn’t sure if she’s being too greedy, coveting another pair of warm arms and a warm smile. 

(Athanasia remembers a face as solid and cold as ice from years ago. With another member in the family, one that he clearly cared about—with the unceasing flow of new baubles and fabrics given to her—would he welcome her now? A girl who’d do her best to repay his love and attention with all her being?

She doesn’t know the answer until one fateful tea party.) 

-

Meeting her father again for the first time in years is not as much of a happy affair as Athanasia thought it’d be. 

For one, her tea sits cold on her plate, and Athanasia also finds that her appetite has long left her. There is no mention of any of her dedication to the country and her studies, nor her desire to be useful to him. No, her father simply ignores her in favour of Jennette. Watching her, though not with familiar warmth.

It’s an emotion entirely different from her mother’s, and something about it makes her feel cold. The awkward silence hangs like a sword on a thread, as Jennette nervously nibbles on her snacks. Not even her typically sunny demeanour can defrost the ice lingering in the air here.

At least Mother is here, gently squeezing her, just enough to feel her warm-cold presence. Athanasia wonders why she hasn’t shown herself to her husband, pushing away memories of derisive whispers about a low-born dancer with more grace in her pinky toe than in any of their entire beings. Her fingers fiddle with one another, now wishing she were in the royal library instead, studying to be better.

At last, Jennette takes the plunge to end the awkward atmosphere.

“F-father!” She practically shouts, “I-I’ve heard that Athanasia is quite good in her studies, so maybe there is something she could help you with?”  Sweat lightly lines the side of her head, glistening. Her hands fumble about with the polished silver utensils.

The blatant plead for them to interact is so evident, that it would have been more subtle to plunge a sword into his gut. Athanasia barely keeps her muscles from reflexively cringing. But at the very same time, a bit of hope dared to bloom. Perhaps her father simply needed a little prompting. 

And it seems like he did, because right after, he turns to her, the same look of apathy still on his face, but he is looking at her and Athanasia’s mind runs through hundreds of imaginary conversation starters.

“Is that so?” He says, deceptively light before his next words. “Athanasia…”  Pausing, he appears to be contemplating something. “...so that was your name. And what an amusingly arrogant one it is. Who’s daughter were you, to have thought you’d be able to live up to such a name?” Cold like always, he fixes the full force of his icy gaze onto her, pinning her down like a butterfly specimen to be thoroughly examined. He eased himself into a languid position on his chair as best as possible, waiting, demanding her answer.

Her mother’s arms tighten imperceptibly, just as Athanasia feels a twang of disappointment at her father’s blatant forgetting of her beautiful, wonderful mother. It clashes with the rush of emotion that sears through her veins at having her father’s full attention on her (though not because of her). 

Suddenly, a rush of noise fills her ears, phantom memories of blood and death coming back from long ago. It is vivid and hazy in her mind’s eye, overlapping multiple perspectives into one as she steadily gazes back at him. 

Yet he is always covered in blood.

Athanasia tastes blood on her tongue, blood in her throat. Feels it on her hands, soaked into her dress. She blinks and it’s gone as quickly as it appears.

(Mother doesn’t seem very happy)

She tries to keep her voice even. “Diana of Siodonna, Father. I’ve… I’ve heard that she was a beautiful dancer.” Even so, her words are spoken haltingly, chosen carefully. 

At that, she could see his eyes narrow in sudden hostility, something dark flashing across them. One of his hands moves to tightly grasp her chin, moving her face this way and that. The pressure hurt, felt as if it could fracture her delicate bones.

Yet his next words fracture her heart. 

“Diana? I’ve never even heard of that name.”

-

He wishes (demands, really) for her to refer to him as “Your Majesty”. With that, the distance between them widens ever more. Was “Father” not respectful enough for him? But she acquiesces to his request (again, more of a demand). Because he is her father. Because she loves him (and all he stood for).

She loves him like a daughter to her father and a worshipper to her idol.

But Athanasia finds that it’s becoming harder to reconcile reality with her idealised images.

And yet, she clings to thin threads of hope anyway.

-

Diana feels the rage of the others within her boil and bubble, caustic and cutting, as she notices Athanasia being brushed off again and again by Claude. Something screams deep within her, louder and louder as it becomes increasingly clear that he remembers her not. She learns to hate from others, learns to hate through circumstance and with the help of the negativity entwining with her. It’s an addicting feeling that’s all too happy to grow as she watches Claude take their daughter for granted again and again. 

Sometimes it feels as if their consciousness merges in and out. Although most of the other women hated her terribly in the end for being the favoured one of the emperor, they all could understand the feeling of being abandoned, being treated lesser by someone whom you adored. They could understand how love and like could curdle and sour into hate. 

Diana had gambled on their love, on her judgement of his character…

And it turns out that she’s fumbled the roll all along.

-

Sometimes, Athanasia thinks she hates them both—her father and Jennette.

Her father for how he underestimates her, practically pretends she doesn’t exist, the easy affection he gives so freely to Jennette even as Athanasia strove to reach his heaven-high standards. Could he not see her desire to help him? Could he not see how much work she put into her studies, no matter how she tried to convey it to him—whether it be through pathetically desperate verbal questioning about his interest, or her showing off as best as she could her ideas on how to perhaps help her Empire prosper more.

Jennette, for how easily she gains her (their) father’s affection. She fails miserably at certain subjects, stays happily within her own enclosed bubble without a care for the outside world, and yet. And yet, and yet, and yet—

(Athanasia can’t really blame her, not really. Because Jennette is kind. Because her father has more important duties than an attention-starved teenage daughter. Because the fault is probably all her own. Good with books, terrible with people, better with ghosts. What a mess .)

He couldn’t even bother to spare her a single glance. What did she lack? What did she not have? What did she need, who did she need to be so he’d gaze at her like Jennette?

Why couldn’t they be together as one happy family?

(Why couldn’t he be the father she wanted him to be?)

-

She caresses a thorny rose, admiring its beauty, lightly gliding her skin on the thorns. 

Not a second later, Athanasia pricks her skin on them.

It leaks blood, slowly, surely, before it clots.

She stares, watching. Wondering. Ruminating.

-

Ijekiel Alpheus. He is Jennette’s fiancé, and Athanasia listens for words that slip through the cracks. Jennette loves to talk about him. The girls at every tea party held in the palace love to gush about him, plying words of flattering praise on Jennette as thick as honey. It often feels over-excessive. 

Perhaps they envy her. 

(But who wouldn’t? With her perfect life and perfect personality, it is easy to love her and even easier to hate her.)

Ijekiel is Jennette’s childhood friend, their affection for one another having been fostered since day one. She wonders if he is the white-haired youth she saw on that day. He had worn his charm like a well-worn mask, gently guiding Jennette towards His Majesty. Beautiful and handsome, all soft edges and a princely demeanour.

He must be. House Alpheus is the only white-haired, gold-eyed noble family she knows of in Obelia.

-

Athanasia meets him on a summer day. A maid eagerly rushes to Jennette, telling her of her fiancé’s arrival. Her sister brightens with excitement and proceeds to drag Athanasia back to the palace to meet him. 

Her mother has opted to stay and relax with Raven back in the Ruby Palace. Lately, Mother feels tired through the threads that connect them. Athanasia briefly hopes the rest will do her well, before allowing herself to be pulled in the rush of emotions Jennette visibly emits before they enter the doors of the Emerald Palace. 

For some reason, Athanasia always thought the colour would suit Jennette well. Better green than blue.

(Better to be in any other family than—) 

When they arrive, Ijekiel has his back to them. He’s been waiting. Clothed in white and gold, Athanasia cannot help but wonder if it is an intentional choice of House Alpheus. She supposes it lends a more ethereal quality to Ijekiel, whilst also being easy to match with their hair and eyes. It certainly looks more intricate and fine than her pale blue dress. 

“Ijekiel!”

Jennette lets go of her hand to practically leap onto Ijekiel’s back, arms wrapping around him tightly as she beams. Athanasia opts to stand back, a couple of steps away, allowing space for the pair, waiting for him to turn to meet her.

The first thing she notices is that his eyes are like unpolished gold.

Yet as they finally lock eyes, jewel blue meeting dull gold, Jennette’s happy words “This is my fiance, Ijekiel…” fade into the background, and those eyes appear to sparkle as if wrapped in a Mesmer. He smiles gently and moves to place a kiss just above her hand. As he does so, his gaze feels like it’s attempting to see through her for what she is. It is a strange sparkle that has lit within his eyes.

“A pleasure to meet you, your highness.”

Something about him changes at that moment.

And it is all too strange that such a gaze would cause her to feel flushed below her clothes. Would cause her breath to hitch and a feeling of breathlessness to rush over her. Maybe she overworked herself this morning with the spells, growing flowers willy-nilly for both Lily and Mother. There’s nothing else that could explain this.

As always, Athanasia opts to ignore unwanted feelings.

(She cannot have him; a terrible choice for a first infatuation)

-

On a summer’s day, they meet again for the second time. This time, it was by complete accident. Whilst walking back to the Ruby Palace from one of the Imperial libraries, Athanasia finds herself nearly walking into Ijekiel. Thank goodness for Mother warning her just in time before they could collide.

Immediately, she reacts with a “My apologies, Lord Alpheus.” He bows in return. A beat of silence follows soon after, and as there is no reply, she continues with “Were you looking for Jennette? I believe she should be finished with her dance lessons soon…” Shifting her books to her left arm, Athanasia snaps open the pocket watch on her side. “...In about five to six minutes or so.”

“No worries, Your Highness. And, I’m not here for Jennette today. I simply felt like visiting one of the royal libraries.” Ijekiel replies, smiling. Then something appears to catch his eye, and following his gaze, Athanasia looks down to see her books. More specifically, a theorem that was published by Roitz a few years ago. Bound in dull brown and without much decoration, Athanasia wonders why it is this book that catches his attention specifically.

“Is that…?”

Athanasia is quick to reply with her own query. “Lord Alpheus, do you recognise this?”

“Yes, is that not Roitz’s book on the intricacies and differences between black magic and forbidden magic? I have read it before on a whim. However, there’s not much I can do with such information, seeing as I am not a mage. Although,” he looks back up into her eyes, “speaking of mages, I do not suppose it is much of a surprise that Your Highness reads such things.” 

Her own blue eyes stray away from his intense gaze. “If I may, Lord Alpheus… I don’t believe that is quite true, mage or not, it is always good to know more. Especially with matters concerning magic. Knowing the differences could perhaps help one determine how best to solve problems concerning magic, or even identify signs that may appear with black magic usage. Sometimes, knowing can make all the difference in things. Please, do not presume that something is useless to you because you have yet to think of a use for it.” And somehow, without realising, her gaze shifts as she speaks, staring down at the sparkling gold of his irises.

It takes a while for him to speak, and Athanasia thinks he looks almost pleasantly surprised, were it not for the rapid change into his normal, genial smile that leaves her wondering if she’s hallucinating from years spent with the supernatural. 

“...Yes, you’re right, of course.” Ijekiel’s head subtly shifts to look beyond the marble pillars of the hallway. “There are things I feel thankful for now, even if I grew to despise them in the past.” He’s looking back at her, and Athanasia feels as if Ijekiel isn’t exactly talking about books and knowledge. Unexpectedly, she feels herself flush, red hot on her cheeks. His gaze always feels all too intense whenever she’s caught in it.

At this, his smile seems to grow a little more genuine, before he leaves with a light bow and a, “If I may excuse myself, Your Highness.” 

The faint scent of wildflowers follows him.

Athanasia thinks, staring at the place where he was, that it’s not the end of their meetings, mostly due to their respective statuses as future in-laws. Although as she looks at her Mother’s amused gaze, Athanasia hopes that by the next meeting, she could at least stop feeling so strangely flustered every time she meets Ijekiel.

-

Her mother shows her little reprieve after that encounter. As it turns out, Athanasia appears to have found a new muse to draw. Sitting beneath the old tree with Raven and her mother once more, Athanasia allows her mind to wander in content silence. Thus she pays little attention to the wildflowers unfurling next to her, nor the fact that Ijekiel’s features are starting to form upon the paper. 

Unfortunately for her, Diana—her mother—is a rather keen-eyed woman. And thus, her sparkling pink eyes zero onto the familiar handsome sketched features with a speed rivalling the Arlantan hawks. As she does so, her lips softly curl into a teasing grin at her new discovery.

“My, my, Athy, who’s this?” Leaning in, Diana peers at her daughter with that very grin, as Athanasai practically leapt out of her skin. Raven, deciding he’d rather be an observer rather than a participant, takes this time to move over to a warm patch in the field.

“Ma‒a! You nearly gave me a heart attack! Couldn’t you have warned me somehow before you decided to comment on my artwork?” Athanasia exasperatedly said, slowly calming down her racing heart.

“Weell, my darling daughter,” Diana begins to say, pinching at one of Athanasia’s cheeks, “I’m simply ever so curious as to this mysterious handsome individual you’ve started to draw. Who, by the way, looks ever so similar to one heir to House Alpheus.” Her cheshire grin grows ever wider as Athanasia slowly realises the implication, relishing the deep lobster red suffusing her pale complexion. 

“That’s a coincidence,” she explains tartly, wishing the ground would swallow her up whole, were it not that the lack of air would kill her. “Besides, it’s not a crush or anything of the sort that you’re implying, Mama.” Athanasia spits out the word ‘crush’ as if it were something diseased.

“I never said it was a crush.”

“That—! Well, you most certainly implied that I have a crush on Ijekiel!”

“Did I? I only wished to know who you were drawing, Athy,” Diana replies, looking like the cat who got both the cream and the canary. “But now that you mention it… Do you have a crush on him, Athy?”

“I do not have a crush.” Athanasia pouts, crossing her arms, “And Mother, you should remember that this is Jennette’s fiancé we are discussing. Any feeling of the amorous kind should not, and will not, exist.” Her voice is hard at that reminder. However, who was truly being reminded here?

At that, Diana’s expression softens into a sympathetic look. 

“Oh Athy, it’s perfectly alright and normal for you to get a crush at this age.” Diana places a comforting hand on Athanasia’s hunched shoulders, coaxing her daughter to look at her. “I know you care very much about Jennette, but you’re not betraying her or anything like that by getting a crush on her fiancé. Besides, you’re not acting on those feelings, and that’s all that really matters, Athy.” Her fingers gently comb through her daughter’s golden tresses.

It’s a nice, normal thing for her daughter to get a crush. 

She thinks, sadly, that Claude would have been a rather endearingly protective father.

-

Athanasia thinks they run into each other quite a lot, enough that she can no longer truly call it a continuing series of accidental encounters. It’s one too many times with too short breaks in between for her to call it such. At some point, she’s starting to wonder if “accidental” is intentional. But with both her desire to ignore most thoughts about fair-haired, handsome Ijekiel and to prove to her mother that this was most certainly not some crush on her sister’s betrothed, Athanasia kicks such thoughts into the abyss of her subconscious.

So obviously, the next time she carries a thick romance novel out of the library to read in the comfort of her room, Athanasia has to be nearly bowled over by Ijekiel as she rounds the corner back to the Ruby Palace.

She stumbles back in shock the moment they collide, thankfully managing not to trip over her feet. Ijekiel appears to be completely unphased, the only sign of collision being his slightly shifted clothing. Athanasia envies that calmness—just a bit.

Just seconds after their collision, Ijekiel smiles, moving to lightly bow towards her, his right hand clasped over his breast. 

“Your Highness, what a happy coincidence.” As he straightens up, Ijekiel’s eyes roam over the book Athanasia is perhaps not-so-subtly trying to obscure. “May I presume you were coming back from the library?”

“Y— Yes, Lord Alpheus. I was. And may I presume in return that you were on the way to meet Jennette? May I recommend that the next time you come visit her, you start from the left, instead of the right? It takes a longer time to get to the Emerald Palace if you go this way, Lord Alpheus.” Her fingers curl tighter around her novel, desperate to not let Ijekiel see the embossed blurb, lest he guesses the contents of it. (He need not know just how passionately the main couple express their feelings for each other, and he most definitely need not know in what specific manner they normally do so) 

Suddenly, it feels as if they are far too close for comfort.

(She can’t quite understand why she’s unwilling to let him know about this, wanting to keep the image of a refined, scholarly princess in his eyes)

He takes a step closer, and for a scant second, Athanasia’s breath catches in her throat. It’s still a perfectly acceptable distance, she mentally reassures herself. It’d do her no good to have her mind so scrambled by such a little thing as the decreased distance from her future in-law.

(Her very handsome, future brother-in-law, her mind supplies in a rather unhelpful fashion. Athanasia wonders if there was a spell to get your mind to shut up when it made unnecessary comments about other people.)

Smiling, Ijekiel makes the world stand still with just a few words. 

“Actually, Your Highness, I was looking for you.” 

“What?” It’s only by the grace of all those years spent holding back that allows Athanasia at least a semi-dignified response to his reply. She blinks and very nearly stutters on her next words. “You… You were looking for me?”

Suddenly he’s far, far too close, and Athanasia nearly leaps out of her skin with surprise, blooming red on her cheeks. Her arms loosen their death grip on her novel, allowing Ijekiel a clear view of her guilty pleasure. So unfortunately for Athanasia, within those few seconds of embarrassment for her, Ijekiel quickly sees what she’s not so subtly attempting to hide from him.

“Oh? That…” He smiles gently like always. But this time, there is a musical lilt to his tone, a subtle quirk to his lips. 

Much like a cat who caught the canary.

Athanasia does her very best to ignore both that damnable smile and the airy weight of her mother’s arms settling comfortably around her.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Lord Alpheus?” She knows her tone is just a tinge too sharp, too snappy in its execution.  Athanasia stoutly refuses to believe such reactions could be, in any way, related to her feelings towards the Alpheus heir. Just like how, right now, she is stoutly ignoring her dearly beloved mother’s giggles. 

Underlying those words is a challenge to him; daring him to say even a single unneeded and unwanted comment about her choice of literature. Her eyes narrow slightly as she stares up at him. Curse his older age and thus his taller height. It is much, much harder to channel an ice statue when one is forced to a lower vantage point.

“Oh, nothing, really.” Or so Ijekiel says, even when the corners of his mouth curve none too subtly, right in front of her. “It’s just…”

And really, some form of luck must be on his side today. Because at that very moment, a gust of wind has the audacity to simply blow past right behind her, allowing Ijekiel the perfect opportunity to further invade her space. Which he does, leaning in to gently tuck away locks of hair from her ear, giving unrestricted access for him to whisper, ever so softly…

“You enjoy such a charming spread of genres, Your Highness,” his breath tickles her ear, and Athanasia hopes to all the holy powers that be that Ijekiel won’t see the brick red she’s surely become. “I myself am also rather fond of reading. So perhaps you’d be able to give me a good recommendation that we might both enjoy together?” At that, Ijekiel leans back, and his golden gaze fixed on her face, waiting for her reply.

“I—” Athanasia’s first attempt at a response falls flat, leading to seconds of hanging silence before her mind formulates a proper answer. “I would be willing to compile a list for you.” Athanasia pauses, before hastily adding, “ And Jenette.” 

“Right.” Gone is the light tone previously in Ijekiel’s voice. Jenette’s name is a clear reminder to both of them.

Again, a silence casts its shadow over the two. But there was a reason why Ijekiel was so beloved by the upper crust’s women. A reason why Jenette was so clearly smitten with him.

“Perhaps we could read the book you have now together, Your Highness? Just to help you gain an early start in compiling that list, of course.”

Athanasia hopes to high heaven that this wasn’t the reason why he was so liked.

“Absolutely not!” Athanasia’s face is red with embarrassment, heat practically radiating off her cheeks. There was no way she was going to let Ijekiel Alpheus of all people know that the studious Second Princess of Obelia liked steamy romance novels. (Even if it was highly likely he already knew what exactly she was holding in her arms)

It’s clear that her sudden outburst of honesty surprises and amuses the Alpheus heir. Frankly, he isn’t doing much to conceal the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, nor the tug at his lips. At that, Athanasia’s lips twitch in displeasure. Why on earth she’d been so fascinated with him lately must’ve been due to the amount of work she’d been giving herself recently. (That was not to say she didn’t notice how that twinkle made the gold in his eyes shine like stars, enthralling in the way beauty always was)

“My, Your Highness, I’m surprised that someone with your work ethic would be so quick to turn down an offer to increase task efficiency.” He teases her, knowing full well why there was no way she would read this book with him.

Athanasia returns his tease with frosty politeness, hoping he’ll drop the matter and leave her alone to read in the sanctity of her room in peace. “I’m simply worried it would detract from time you should spend with Jennette, Lord Alpheus. Moreover, as both a girl and her sister, I’m quite sure a perfect list will still be made with only my input.”

(Her mother is no help at all, only watching and offering not a single piece of advice)

“Ah, but perhaps you have forgotten, Your Highness, that I have taken care of Jennette in the past. Would it not be more helpful to have my input to supplement yours?”

“That…”

“...Is it because of my presence?”

“No.” The blurted answer is quick enough that it shocks both of them. It’s honesty towards a question that should never be asked. Despite this, Athanasia continues to blush, eyes only pretending to look straight at Ijekiel. “...I simply think that you would not be interested in such reading material.” She later tacks on lamely.

But for some reason, it’s enough to gain a wondrous smile from him—In fact, Athanasia suspects he might just be beaming. Her heart beats uncomfortably in her chest.

“I see,” is all he says at first. “But Your Highness, I trust that whatever you read has its own value, whether it be for one purpose or another.” With that, he bows, ready to take his leave. “If you are not ready to show me such literature, I’ll at least help with the list for Jenette. So if I may, Your Highness, I’ll get on to that promptly.” Up he rises, and Athanasia can’t help but stare at his now retreating back.

What an immensely forward thing to say.

All of a sudden, not even ten paces away from her, Ijekiel stills. As he speaks, he does not face her. “And, just one more matter, Your Highness. If it’s not too presumptuous… Might I say that red is a lovely colour on you?”

But for Athanasia, it’s much more preferred this way. After all, who knows what expression he had whilst saying so? Nor did she desire for him to see that lovely colour on her again.

-

“Your Highness, I’ve recently read through Galera’s thesis on the nature of time. May we discuss it together?”

Ijekiel had almost certainly planned on this, seeing as there was no one near them for perhaps miles around, and also for the fact that they were conversing in a clearly abandoned garden that no one in their right mind would enter. 

It’s no matter if she’s caught off guard, as Athanasia has long since gotten used to reacting to unexpected variables on the spot. “Lord Alpheus, you must understand that I have yet to read that particular article. Furthermore, I do firmly believe that you would have a much more enlightening conversation with someone from the Black Tower.”

However, the sound of her mother snickering from behind is very much not helpful.

“But Your Highness, I find that I would much prefer conversing with you. You’ve shown to be capable of viewing a wide range of perspectives that I feel are quite uncommon.” At that, Athanasia involuntarily flushes, remembering their previous meeting. “It’s no matter if you haven’t read it yet, as I’ve also brought it with me. How about we go over it together?”

“I…” There is an expectant, honest wish in his eyes, and Athanasia can’t help but look away.

Her mother gently caresses her from behind, giving a silent nudge to accept his offer. “You’ll be family soon,” she whispers in her ear. “It’ll be good to get along when it happens… And above all else, Athy… It’s alright to savour moments of fleeting happiness.”

Fleeting. Right.

This time, she meets his eyes. 

“I don’t suppose you have anything for the next few hours?”

And his smile is as dazzling as the sun.

-

Jerk, was, perhaps, not a word Athanasia thought she’d ever use to refer to Ijekiel. But sometimes it feels as if he’s purposefully trying to ruffle her feathers.  There is simply something about the way this— this young lord reacts to her polished politeness, the way he engages with her, the way he pokes and prods (in a manner he possibly believes is subtle but is truly more like a slap to her face).

(For goodness sake, she’s not some beloved romance novel protagonist) 

It is hard to do so when the Alpheus heir keeps on challenging her like so.

(And they dance around and around, three steps forward and two steps back)

-

By their fourth and later meetings, Athanasia finds that many conversations with Ijekiel often slip into a subtle battle of knowledge, wisdom and wit between them. They talk around each other in circles, debating and discussing. They prod each other for opinions as politely and bluntly as can be (it was likely Ijekiel took at least some pleasure in watching her flounder—he’d already admitted it before). Sometimes though, it feels as if they’re speaking two entirely different conversations to each other. The only clue Athanasia has as to what Ijekiel does not say is exactly that: what he does not tell her explicitly.

More often than not, Jennette cannot get much of a foot within the proverbial door of their rapid-fire conversations. More often than not, Athanasia has to remember to pull back, to introduce topics that Jennette can give her opinion on. And she feels guilty, looking at how nervous Jennette is at giving opinions on things she can barely understand. Because Jennette’s fiancé is the only person remotely near her age that she could interact with on such a level, the only person around willing and able to interact with on such an academic level, Athanasia clings to him—to that connection to another being who might truly enjoy her company—through such conversations. She wills herself to ignore their countless other conversations that don’t involve an exchange of knowledge; pushes away the way he teaches her to dance in a pair; shuts out the times they sit together in comfortable silence, Raven as their feet and her mother humming by her side.

(Because for all she reads, all she understands and absorbs, her father hates the sound of her voice, hates the audible reminders of her existence. What Athanasia learns from those numerous, painfully awkward tea times is that Jennette is persistent in making them get along, and their father is persistent in pretending she does not exist—knowledge does not matter if no one wishes to appreciate it. The unread and discarded proposals Athanasia sends to him via a third party time and time again only serve to hammer in this unwanted truth.

And Ijekiel wanted more than her knowledge. Was it truly a wonder that she’d wish to stay with just him, if only for a few seconds more?)

She should not.

(Ijekiel is her sister’s beloved fiancé. Jennette is her beloved older sister, and she is the apple of their father’s eye.)

She does anyway.

As another prompting question about Archimedes V comes from Ijekiel yet again, Athanasia cannot help herself, allowing her to be swept away by the currents to another place—perhaps the edge of a waterfall.

(She’s not acting on her feelings if she’s answering his questions and thus engaging with, and subsequently bonding with her future brother-in-law… Right?

It’s not a question Athanasia truly wishes to answer.)

-

The next few years go by like the clouds drifting across the skies, and she and Ijekiel only become closer. Her mother gives no protest to any of it, even telling her that it is  “only a small bit of happiness, which wouldn’t hurt”. Within her embrace, cocooned in her warmth, Athanasia can find no argument against such a sentiment.

One day—a day she will consider a very long time ago—under the gentle shade of a tree, surrounded by nothing but wildflowers, Ijekiel confesses a secret to her and her alone.  

“Did you know, Princess, that when we truly first met, I thought you to be an angel?” Ijekiel smiles, looking up at the unclouded sky, away from her and her seeking eyes. “You should know that you’re very beautiful, Princess. It was almost inhumanely so, to me… Until I got to know you better, of course.” He chuckles, as if remembering a particularly humorous memory. “You became less like an angel—less of an idea in my head—and more like my friend, Athanasia. And yet, knowing you as you are now, I find myself preferring this tangible version of you, rather than the shallow idea I had before.” 

It feels as if it’s something she shouldn’t have known. Something that shouldn’t be said. And yet, she made no move to interrupt him at all.  

Ijekiel looks back at her now. As the sun’s rays bounce off his white hair, Athanasia privately thinks that, between the both of them, she is not the one with the angelic beauty. She watches, entranced, as his hand nears her own. 

His first touch is warm.

Slowly, he brings her hand to his lips, his golden eyes gazing at her behind lowered lashes as he does so. And just as Athanasia thinks he will kiss the air above her hand in greeting (but what for, she dares not continue that line of thought), he gently turns her hand to expose the insides of her pale wrists. 

“Athanasia… I’m truly glad you were born.”

And so there is where his lips ever so lightly press, a butterfly-like kiss. 

It’s a golden memory that Athanasia would take to her grave. Even if she immediately yanks her hand away, watching as the sun’s rays disappear. Watching the understanding dawn upon his face.

(Ah, she’s already flown too close to the sun)

-

Not too long after that incident, Ijekiel gifts her a blue songbird—a bluebird, to be more specific.

“Consider it a symbol of our friendship,” he says. Nothing about his expressions betrays anything, save for the way he doesn’t meet her eyes, the way his smile is so picturesque. But their roles have been set, their paths already paved, and there’s no other direction but forward. 

So Athanasia gives a fairytale-like smile in return, and focuses only on the merits of his gift.  

It’s a pretty bluebird, and she’s sure Raven will love it too. Her mother is already cooing in her ear about how cute it is, and how generous it is for Ijekiel to give such a gift. Athanasia never told her what happened on that sunny day. And she never will.

“He must treasure your friendship very much, Athy. And, oh my, don’t you think the bluebird looks a little like him? Maybe it’ll stop you from sulking every time you can’t immediately discuss a book with him.”

Athanasia ignores her comments in favour of concentrating on Ijekiel.

“Thank you,” she says in turn, smiling, “I’ll take good care of…”

“It’s a boy.”

“Him. I’ll take good care of him.”

They both watch the little bluebird hop around, gazing at its new surroundings with curiosity. 

“Do you already have a name for him?”

“Not really, I was thinking that it’d be better to give you the honour of doing so,” Ijekiel replies, before cheekily adding, “Even with your dubious naming skills.”

Athanasia’s cheeks colour, before she hastily gets out, “My naming skills are not dubious. The names I give are perfectly suited and reasonable.”

“Hahaha, alright alright, I concede—what are you going to name him then?”

“Well,” and at that, Athanasia places her hands firmly on her hips, “I was thinking of Bluey. It’s a name that suits his colouration, and it’s also a very cute name.” 

“Alright, Bluey it is then.”

“Hey, what kind of answer was that?” But they’re both grinning, and they both know that Ijekiel won’t legitimately protest against the name, no matter how much of an “opinion” he has about her naming skills. 

Athanasia hopes that he’ll treasure this memory as much as she does, forevermore.

-

On a day like any other, Athanasia opens the doors to her room to find her beloved Bluey dead in his cage. His feathers lie scattered in a bloody mess, and it’s clear that this was someone’s handiwork. Even so, it doesn’t feel real. Any moment now, Bluey will hop around and chirp and sing, delighted to see her again.

Athanasia cradles him with shaking hands, making no move to stop Raven from sniffing around the crime scene. There's a gasp from behind. Mother? 

“Oh, Athy…” When a warm, heavy weight meets her shoulder, Athanasia knows that it's someone else.

Lily.

“How could anyone do this?” She laments, voicing out unsaid thoughts. “This isn't right. I must go see the Emperor. He should do something about this.” At that, Lily rises to storm out the door, only to be caught by the skirts with a single hand.

“No.” Athanasia’s tone is firm, resolute. “He won't— He doesn't need to be bothered by such small issues.” The words are like razors in her mouth. “I’ll solve this issue myself.”

“But Athy—”

“No.” A princess’ words are final. “But,” and here is where her voice softens, weakens, “could you stay by my side tonight?”

“Of course.” Lily’s hands are gentle on her hair, but still, Athanasia can't bring herself to look at her. “You didn't even need to ask. I’ve promised you before that I’ll always be by your side, Athy.”

-

At night, soothed to sleep by her nanny’s lullaby, and her mother's smell of roses, Athanasia dreams. She dreams of the flowers she’d made, dreams of how vegetation would translate to flesh, blood and bone. She dreams of sinew, muscle and thread. She dreams of a pulsating heart in her hands, too big to be useful for now, but that is what magic is for—to make the impossible become possible.

She dreams of her mother, unconditionally forgiving.

( Everything will be alright, Athy. You don't have to do it alone. Just leave it to Mama, ok? )

She dreams of a world, where all wrongs are made right.

-

When she wakes, it’s as if she’s been possessed. With a firm stride, she moves to crack open the book that started it all. With a loud thump, it lies open on a new number, page one-thousand-twenty. It’s a page Athanasia has never seen before. But written across its pages is exactly the guidance she needs. Her fingers run through the crimson-streaked pages, feeling the bone-like indents of the letters. Perhaps it’s simply her imagination, but Athanasia likes to think that, at that moment, she’d also felt a pulse. 

The smell of decay hangs in the air. Against Lily’s protests, she’d placed Bluey back into his cage instead of disturbing him any further. 

If she could conjure new life, then surely, Athanasia could also bring back the old? Her eyes scan the procedures, the needed ingredients to channel intent out of precaution. A nail drags across the paper, and she mentally takes note of every single detail. 

“Did you find something interesting, Athy?” Her mother’s arms curl around her neck, heavy as a noose. 

“Yes.” She replies, turning to gaze at her slumbering bluebird. “I think I’ll need some thread, Mama.”

-

Perhaps it’s a trick of her mind, but Athanasia feels as if there are fewer staff members in the Ruby Palace, as barebones are the structure of the staff here already. But since she relies mostly on herself and Lily, Athanasia doesn’t pay too much mind to it. 

There are other more important matters to turn to, such as Bluey’s recovery. He still needs the stitches, or else he’d fall back asleep within a blink of an eye. 

She strokes his soft feathery head, before the crash of breaking plates forces her attention elsewhere. Her hand stills. A lone maid stares at them, eyes wide, mouth slack. Honestly, it’s a confusing reaction to have. Furthermore, didn’t she know that such loud noises could disturb Bluey’s recovery? 

“Hey,” the informality tastes foreign, but welcome. “Come here.”

The impertinent maid doesn’t move.

“Come here. That’s an order.”

Hesitant, and awkward. Her etiquette lessons come to mind—a princess should not have to speak the same order twice. The chair screeches from the force of her pushing back, and in one, two, three and four strides, she’s caught that shaking arm and dragged the maid into her room.

The doors shut and lock with a finality. 

[tomwaterbabies]

I hope the surgery went well and recovery goes smoothly!!! You asked for asks and I saw you have some robo Varian art that's been eating my brain for a few days now. I guess not technically a question but I'd love to hear more about that au if you wanna ramble 👉👈

HEYYY thank you so much! it went really well and the pain is super minimal rn, i can even sit up on my desk! which was recommended by my surgeon to do anyway so thats rad

ANYWAYSSSSS... THANK YOU for the kind words im so glad you like it!! and THANK YOU for reminding me of the fact i never posted about my robot au like i had meant to 💀

here it is NOW (and to anyone who hasnt seen the art here it be)

this is long as hell btw. so sorry

SO. setting i imagine is similar to typical vat7k BUT a little darker and more dystopian. think steampunk industrial stuff... which i know hugo's kingdom is already like lol but just imagine it like. in a lot more places. this is basically a "steampunk" au too

robots are VERY common. invented by a group of scientists with the main ones being donella and ulla

robots are used as service etc etc. theyre not sentient at all so this isnt like. some unethical practice

but ulla and donella are OBSESSED with making them more and more advanced, theyre besties and all that. but ulla is Particularly obsessed with making the Perfect Robot

we know that ulla is kind of messed up in the head. in this au she kind of messes way too much with robot sentience WHILE ALSO getting obsessed with the eternal library. same stuff happens eventually. donella and ulla fight about the eternal library etc etc

BUT ALSO... ulla is working on her Magnum Opus. a son for her and her husband, who she is making to be the perfect robot. quirin is unaware of the shit shes doing and fully trusts her and supports this passion project

and well! she does make the first Sentient Robot. with the use of science and Magical Knowledge she was able to basically give life force through magical means into the robot. The robot of course she named varian. and not only is he sentient, but he looks completely human

she did some messed up stuff tho! again! she's programmed him with fake memories so he thinks he has lived a life fully as a human. he's also programmed to not notice things like the small seams on his body and all that. like his code just immediately disregards all that

anywaysss. after ulla disappears, quirin is dedicated to taking care of varian. he figures it's best to follow with ulla's choice of making sure varian doesnt know hes a robot

MEANWHILE ! because of the schism between ulla and donella, there was some wack shit that happened. namely robots going completely crazy. now all robots are Murder Robots. so the world is pretty Dystopian at the moment

Varian decides he wants to go out and find the source of what made the robots go crazy. bc this sucks lol. like everyone is Just Miserable

so he meets his friends. nuru, yong, hugo!

LETS TALK ABOUT HUGO

hugo works for donella. hugo also absolutely HATES robots. the robots have been messing shit up since he was a kiddo

he's kind of like a robot hunter. harvesting them for parts as well as getting rid of them bc theyre dangerous. usually donella directs him to different missions. and now shes telling him to join this guy (varian) bc she wants the secrets that ulla had hidden and varian is sure as hell after them

sooooo at one point. varian gets hurt maybe, or interacts with something that breaks the code in him or whatever. the code that stops him from noticing his robotic qualities. i think he probably would get super injured and like. he and all his friends stare in shock and horror as some sort of gash or sparks or whatever show a metallic inside

they all find out he's a robot together weeeee. no one is having a good time

so he's living with existential crisis. he's away from his dad so he cant travel all the way back to be like hey What The Fuck. AND he's still dedicated to his goal. but now he's just. confused, scared, and unsure if he's worthy of his humanity that he thought he had

they all try to work with this new discovery (which i think would happen earlier on rather than way later). hugo especially is like. having a crisis. bc he's always hated robots and for good reason. but varian... varian is SO human. he thinks, he feels, he cares, etc. he's more Human than a lot of the Flesh and Blood people he's been around

so you know, hugo starts to fall in love with him anyway. lots of excellent scenes of him helping varian with his mechanics, etc

and of course varian starts falling in love with him too, but is dealing with a lot of confusion as well. like is he even real, doesnt hugo deserve to be loved by a Human and not a Robot, etc etc

ok jesus christ. i think thats all the main stuff. woaghghg

[boxwinebaddie]

Who initiated the kissing in the greenhouse?

ahhhh, the greenhouse kiss.

my magnum opus. ;)

shouldiactuallyfuckingwriteitgotohellunclenina!

smh, Any!Ways! i've been itching to talk about this, but it requires a lot of context, so i'll have to rewind time a lil and provide screenshots.

but before i begin:

again, it's probably my extreme levels of anxiety around being really annoying and irrelevant, however, this was sent to me a while ago and i am not sure how much we still care about lore around my dumb unfinished fanfiction, but i will say that, at the time i received this, i also had TWO Other Separate Anons who asked me questions about the greenhouse sequence and subsequent kiss and because i had only really mentioned it in a Couple...neither here nor there answers?

i was extremely surprised and flattered that it stood out enough to you to be asked about multiple times??? AAA?? again, i have the best readers in the world, thank you so much for caring. my face is red. ;-;

OKAY! FAIR WARNING!!!! THIS IS VERY, VERY, VEEERY LONG! and Lore Intensive. but you asked! so welcome to the shit show, baby!

so, to jog your re(memories), though, i highly doubt you'll need the refresher, you are all sharp as tacks and extremely brilliant, therefore, really just to set the scene for myself, we are in ravenstan's room,

which, because the crimson dawn sicktorian manwhorsion was ofc, once a very grand, luxurious upscale, upstate new york 1800s manor, a lot of the old furnishings stayed, so stan's room is basically this huge gothic vampire boy bedroom with a massive four column upholstery bed and beautiful black lace canopy that drapes down,

there's a huge dark-finish, wooden boudoir and matching vanity that is all hand-carved, very elegant, ancient and intricate...and also sticker-bombed with a million shitty, half-peeled skater-boy stickers...there's a chandelier and one of stan's combat boots is hanging from it and probably underwear, smh. metal posters all over the wall, dirty laundry all over the fancy ornate rug, half empty cheesy poof and taki bags, eye makeup smeared on Everything, especially the nice cool mirror, nasty crumbs in the bed ( stan did wipe those off before kyle sat...true luv ), lots of cringey stanime figurines on the old antique shelves. jers did comment on this like '...sailor moon?' and stan scoffed, a little defensive, and was like 'what's more badass and punk rock then a bunch of girls kicking ass and saving the galaxy?'

Hot Boy Shit.

so yes, we are in ravenstan's gothic victorian, chaotic boy fail disaster room, where stan is stripped ( literally ) of all his sexy lead-singer boy laviciousness, no dramatic eye makeup or perfectly blown out bleach blonde hair, no tiny vegan leather pants...rather, he is fresh from the shower in his big, ratty, holey terrance and phillip shirt, his uber lame skull and cross-bones pajama pants from the junior boys section of target, socks that don't match, his hair is back in the black standana, still damp, face bare, cheeks lightly flushed, where a blue star pimple patch sits on a very angry pimple, the lil stan beauty mark under his right eye is winking, lip ring shining in the romantic sicktorian lowlight of a crimson dawn, where he is nervously fiddling with his chipped black fingernails, sitting cross cross applesauce across from

...jerseykyle, secret love of his life, who looks perfect, even with his nightly skincare routine delayed from tonight's many dramas ( which, is really saying something, because kyle never delays his s.c., ever ) his hair is falling in effortless ginger waves about his sharp shoulders, the sun and moon glasses chain is gold and glorious, his green eyes, usually narrowed, are wide with wonder gazing over at raven of crimson dawn reduced to whoever he really is underneath it all, the fabric of his matching perfectly pressed silk flannel pajama set from marshalls extremely soft, however, his skin is slick with sweat and prickly after raven read his palms and said his love line was...long.

( help, lmao. )

what started out as a very awkward conversation and confrontation about raven of crimson dawn being trans has melted away into silly banter and shit-shooting between our two favorite boys who, though, by kyle's knowledge, have not known each other for more than a month, have extremely good conversational chemistry and are playful and vulnerable with each other in a way that suggests that they have been best friends and known each other all their lives...

...Interesting.

as their conversation moves from light-hearted subject matter and descends further into the darkness that surrounds very heavy shit, kyle, who has gotten pretty comfortable surprisingly, starts to speak in the heavy jersey accent before trying to smooth and iron it out.

this little exchange insues:

kyle says that, it's risky, but worth the reward, because ravenstan after a steep and shaky breath, dives into an abridged, sparknotes version of the pre-crimson dawn days, how it used to be a pipe dream, a little garage band thing the boys did for fun, hungry for fame but eating top ramen and drinking sunny d everyday, unaware that they would ever get recognized...

( my favorite pre-cd headstannon is actually is that on the fateful, fearful, tearful night of the concert they got scouted at, they're trying on their lil emo boy outfits in the bathroom to hype themselves up, stan is nervous to come out bc he thinks he looks stupid...he's wearing some dumb hot topic-y, party city vampire costume thing kenny got him as a joke w/ his eyeliner on...the boys get him to come out and they are all immediately GAGGED because why is our awkward, boy fail king...SEXY??? like stan why are you hOT??? and they start all barking and throwing money at him and trying to have him do a spin which was so nice bc he was so nervous. my boys. </3 )

then they do get recognized, shot into stardom and everything seems golden! but...it's pyrite. because cartman or the evil 'e' basically assigns them these little 'parts' to play in his perfectly placed show, stan says he just wanted to do what kenny did, sing his songs and not talk too much, just share his music...but e has kenny and stan swap personalities essentially and stan becomes raven. which, at first, was worth it because he got to preform, but it just became this thing he dreads, acting all high and mighty when he just feels fucking tiny and horrible, that he isn't allowed to write songs anymore and they all, essentially...Belong To E.

they have no freedom. no autonomy.

Whatsoever. </3

( sa tw :( it's a whole chapter and convo, obviously, stan also talks about working at ruffians, which is a massive gentleman's club but gentle those men were NOT, that his boss thought his name was too boring so they had him go by something ~exotic~ hence cuervo, which the man mistook for being reminiscent of the tequila brand jose cuervo, so those awful men just called him tequila day in and out while he was serving drinks...gazes and hands lingering, stan's boss telling him he could sing on stage on friday if let those rich men have their way...and that, unfortunately, thru those men, cd got signed. )

after that BOMBSHELL of a conversation, it's very sad and heartbreaking, but very eye-opening to kyle, who wrote raven off as this imbecilic, arrogant rockstar celebrity sheep who he's learned via the hate and this exchange, is extremely lovely, was treated horribly at every impasse of his life and remained kind and humble...he is like legitimately stunned by how perfectly imperfect raven of cd is.

speeeeaking of...okay, sorry, all of that was leading to

This.

so, ravenstan's eyes are rimmed red...the way one's would if they had been crying, he's also been periodically sniffling. feeling rarely kind and gentle, jerseykyle very tentatively asks if he's been crying and hope that it's not because kyle saw him in the mirror.

...i've talked about this before, but, bear with me:

stan shakes his head and tells him that it's because he's been reading a lot of insidious internet comments about him. marjorine told him not to, but it's hard not to listen when everyone is talking about you. he goes onto say that for every person that 'loves' him, five other people hate him. that there's always something wrong with him. his eyes are too far apart or close together, his lips are a weird shape, one hip is bigger than the other. there are accounts dedicated just to zooming in on his pants, weird horrible deep fake porn of him, the paps catching him buying tampons, trying to figure out who they're for and if he's secretly seeing someone ( he laughs and smiles, but it doesn't meet his eyes ) and that...he feels hideous. :(

this exchange happens, my favorite exchange in the fic:

( yes, we've all read it...here it is again. )

after that, overcome with emotion, ravenstan pulls jerseykyle in a very tender, loving embrace, holds him, thanks him, kyle is blushing, stan says he really needed to hear that...the deeper meaning of which crimson dawns on kyle when, suicide tw, during that hug, over his shoulder, he notices a VERY LARGE bottle of sleeping pills :( on his nightstand and a handle of vodka. ravenstan also mentioned being very tired of everything and just wanting to...sleep for a long time.

this does...deeply concern kyle. he tries not to dwell on it.

because, he's looking at raven of crimson dawn, in all his awkward, sweet boy, perfect-imperfect glory, who, in that vein, has a little bit of cinnamon flavored toothpaste left on his bottom lip.

yes...jersey was staring at it. intently. that gay ass bitch.

he goes to swipe it off raven's lip, which his thumb gently caresses, running over ravenstan's lovely lip ring, his heart is RACING.

stan puts his hand over kyle's before he can pull it away and feeling particularly brave, is about to ask jersey Something Important!

but gets interrupted.

this part which i didn't get to write is Integral and devastating to me because we watch all of stan's vulnerability IMMEDIATELY VANISH, hes undoing his hair, trying to shake it out, shakily pouring himself a very healthy-unhealthy shot, doing like two of them, is rushing around trying to find his hot boy clothes and starts...

doing the raven voice again.

fUUUUUUUUUUUCk.

raven, basically pretending like none of that happened is like, 'well, that's my cue, new jersey. i've got to get changed, but you're welcome to stick around...i'll give you a free show.' ;) <3 xxx

jerseykyle is...Haunted by this. bc he just watched the boy that he'd been getting to know very intimately and preciously in his bedroom immediately transform into this...Monster they made him into.

kyle declines, makes his leave, confused and dismayed, but while raven's back is turned, he steals the big pill bottle bc he's worried.

and that chapter, my favorite, ends with this.

AAAAAAAAAAAA I KNOW RIGHT!!!

Moving On! to the greenhouse chapter.

here's some more context you don't need:

flash forward. it's the big dramatic punk rock party ( rager, more like ) the label threw at the crimson dawn manwhorsion to celebrate marjorine's sindotrination into the band.

like i mentioned once or twice in another lore ask, j.k. has been drinking aaaaa lot, so he is very white boy SCHWASTED and seeking out a missing raven of crimson dawn who, in his stupefying stupor, is finding he is very attracted to and wants to kiss...very bad, lmao.

but yeah! finds him in his special stan greenhouse for gay boys who are nerdy about plants. jersey kyle is looking fierce as fuck, his hair is curly whirly, his sharp canines are pearly, i think he's wearing a black turtleneck and slacks, he looks chic and sleek, he is, however, slurring and shit-faced, swirling his wine around his crystal skull wine glass whilist RELENTLESSLY flirting with raven of crimson dawn.

who, again, is rarely sober, he's wearing a little gardening apron over his party outfit ( aw ), his hair is back in the standana, there's a lil dirt on his cheek, he is stuttering and stammering so much omg.

BUT, OKAY, AS FOR THE KISS! the lead in is this:

sober ravenstan is trying to hydrate very drunk jerseykyle all like "kyle broflovski, when was the last time you drank water?" and kyle being a nasty disgusting floozy is like "can't rememba...buuuut my name sounds good in ya mouth." ;) JAIL! GO TO HELL! but ravenstan, trying to be logical because he knows kyle can't is like "kyle, i need you to be serious. you have your civil procedures class at seven and that advanced legal research at nine and after that you've got--"

and kyle's entire world stops. because raven of crimson dawn, who has the world's worst case of adhd and cannot remember anything...

memorized his school schedule. :')

THIS HAPPENS...

AND BAM!!!! GREENHOUSE KISS. <333

which...Whew. very quickly escalates into a very messy makeout session, the greenhouse windows are fogging up from the HEAT. at one point which i tried to reference in the vampire mv para i'm writing, jersey kyle knocks a bunch of plants in pots sitting up on this shelf to put stan on it. there is a part in six where while jersey is stiring his lasagna sauce in the kitchen, stan sits up on the counter like a nasty slutty skanky indecent boy with no manners, kyle smakcs his tiny ass with the kochlefl and was like "it's rude to sit on counters."

soooo naturally, stan, breathlessly, being a little shit is like "i thought it was rude to sit on counters." and kyle is like "oh, so now you want to be polite?" AND NO HE DOES NOT! ;) because it's getting freak nasty in there, my woooord, ravenstan is trying to get kyle's shirt off my goodness and, jk, you know, not wanting to rush into anything is like "raven, i think--i think we should slow down" and stan, smirking, not listening ( stan special ) and is v liberally kissing down kyle's neck ( which, fun fact, jersey's neck is very sensitive and if you ever want kyle to shut up, that will immediately make him dead quiet ) says...

"you talk too much, mi sabelotodo." ;)

WHIIIIIIIIIICH...was the wrong thing to say, girls, gays and theys...

because jerseykyle immediately pulls back...

IN HORROR.

but that's an ask for another day. :* <3 xxx

-uncle nina, curator of CHAOS

[terramous]

twenty questions for fic writers

tagged by @sznofthesticks (thank you!! <3)

How many works do you have on AO3?

66

What's your total AO3 word count?

256,858

What fandoms do you write for?

actively writing for 911 lone star, my hero academia & chicago med. previously wrote for julie and the phantoms & onf

Top 5 fics by kudos:

1 - just for the sake of saving us 2 - mixing fireworks and gasoline 3 - tomorrow may not come again 4 - will the fever break or will i burn from within? 5 - call it fate (paramedic tk au)

Do you respond to comments?

i do not, i like to be able to see my stats but i appreciate comments a lot and i reread them often

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

shape-shifting in an endless sleep which i know people in my comments will never forgive me for

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

lead me somewhere i've never been which is my happiest fic in general marjan and tk have my whole heart

Do you get hates on fics?

i got a few hate comments on hands are tied and clocks are ticking but other than that and the occasional hate for never updating that one mha fic even though its been three years i don't really get hate comments

Do you write smut?

once and it sucked!!

Craziest Crossover:

i have never written a crossover

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i'm aware of

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope. jillian and i started on one but never finished

All time favorite ship?

tarlos have finally usurped malec in my heart, no one is doing it like them

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

probably the nyc fics i started back in 2020 with my oc khai because i love him but i feel like i would have to entirely rewrite the 9k i have for them to make even the slightest bit of sense

What are your writing strengths?

i dont really think i have strengths but i had to answer this for my creative writing degree recently and i said details. i like to think that i include a lot of details and make them somewhat significant

What are your writing weaknesses?

pacing. i always think im writing too much or too little in a set amount of words.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

love it. i could never write it because the only language i could do myself would be japanese

First fandom you wrote in?

twilight

Favorite fic you've written?

i think my magnum opus was we've never slept six feet apart because i love it and i think it's the perfect fic even though it's sad

tagging @nancygillianmvp @welcometololaland @morganaspendragonss @crockettmarcel @marjansmarwani

[blackinquisitors]

basically I don't get much enjoyment out of art and I don't feel much creative drive for it. I have some amount of skill, and dare I say I'm pretty damn good when copying something. but my technique is curtailed by the lack of practice I put in because every drawing I do has to be Good. it has to be Good so I can Post it and get Attention and then the Attention will generate people that with Commission me. I have no real love for drawing so I don't do it for fun. I have an appreciation for art but half the time it ends up being a competition for me. I dont know. this has sort of always been the case because I started drawing at 13 years old to be Good and get Attention. it wasn't for the love of the craft and I don't know if I can suddenly generate the love after years of it being result-based.

writing on the other hand is completely a labor of love. I have only monetised it when people have directly inquired about it. every part about it I enjoy and showing it to other people is essentially like showing my belly. I do it purely for my own benefit and if other people happen to like it, then that's a bonus. I love the doing more than the end result

it's a blow to me and my ego when a drawing only gets X amount of notes. but then something like my pervvy disco elysium fic only having a handful of kudos really doesn't bother me at all. cus i didn't make it for an audience, I made it cus I got possessed by an idea and had to get it out of my system. a couple other weirdos liked it so that's great but not a necessity. and then my most popular work, bloom, is my baby simply bc I worked on it for a year and put a lot of myself into it. and I'm able to look at it critically and see where my writing has developed and improved. zero of my opinion of bloom is tied to other people's opinions. it's a nice feeling

I'm doing oil paintings for cash currently which is a nice gig bc I do enjoy the process of oil painting because I'm good at it. but I am incredibly slow and I get bored of it. I think I'll keep doing these for the income but as for fanart and stuff I'll probably stop for a long while. put it all on the back burner until I can learn to love the process as much as I do writing

and rn I'm chipping away at my black sails fic and I'm considering it to be my magnum opus. not even close to being done but I'm enjoying writing it immensely. not a single bit of this is a chore, which it occasionally was with bloom because I was updating it chapter by chapter and felt the pressure of a waiting audience. with this black sails one I'm happily writing away and making it all perfect. lalalala the art of creation is wonderful. let's not poison my relationship with art anymore