#readers like yourself are everything

[paimonial-rage]

wriothesley 3, 16, 17 :3 -- @milkstore

[Character Analysis Ask Meme]

What is Wriothesley’s mbti/enneagram?

Wriothesley is a 9w8 ESTP sp/so.

What is the best way to win Wriothesley’s heart?

Wriothesley is a simple man, and simple men require simple methods. Simply put, the best way to win Wriothesley’s heart is to flirt with him. He doesn’t need much more than that. Challenge him, tease him, take him by surprise. Play hot and cold. Accept his invitations for tea, then spurn his advancements the next. Present yourself as a catch, dance right out of his reach, and let his instincts kick in. But make sure you’re having fun too. It’s not a game if both people aren’t having fun.

What are Wriothesley’s strengths in a relationship?

Of the many traits Wriothesley was blessed with, two that stand out are his level-headedness and his tendency toward action. No matter what you may go through as a couple, he will not be overcome by stress or fear. You can always trust him to be solid no matter the storm. Not to mention you can trust he will not take the backseat in your relationship. If there is anything wrong, he will address it. But more than that, if he sees the chance to make you happy, he will take it, whether it’d be bringing home flowers or taking you on a date to something you want to see. In a relationship, he won’t let you feel alone.

[northern-passage]

one thing i find really difficult about navigating the IF space is the direct line of contact between readers and authors. we share the same space, and i think that plays a big part in this weird blurred line we have in this community and overall lack of boundaries.

for a lot of people this is a fun hobby and while i personally try to keep it... semi-professional most of the time, it's easy to get wrapped up in having fun on tumblr (or the forums, or reddit, wherever it is that you mainly post/interact) and have a lot of personal interactions with both readers and authors alike - which is fun! i like it more often than not, but i also think that's why a lot of comments in this space can end up being really entitled, over-familiar, and inappropriate.

it's no secret that most authors get really weird messages on here, and while this is also a problem on social media at large and not just specific to IF tumblr, it is still definitely a big problem in this community.

and to be clear i'm not saying that you can't be friendly with authors or readers (i've become friends with a handful of readers myself) and i definitely don't mean to imply that there needs to be a huge divide between us; that's silly - again, most authors are readers, most readers are authors, we’re just people on the internet sharing the same space. but all of us deserve to have our boundaries respected. this is my story, and we are strangers. as a general rule of thumb: if you wouldn't say it out loud to someone you just met, you probably shouldn't be saying it to a stranger online. especially anonymously.

[chocoenvy]

nah cause trying to kill each other the entire night without alerting everyone else, especially the Harbingers............

almost being caught but the Tsaritsa covers for you and they just shrug and assume your one of them. but she only covers you bc you've piqued her interest, and if anyone is going to kill you it's going to be her.

still doesn't stop some nosy nobles from trying to knock you down a peg. it's kinda hard to miss the Tsaritsa, masquerade or not, and it's harder to miss the leech clinging to her arm the entire time.

their trying to get on her 'good' side but you keep bullying them and making the Tsaritsa laugh and it's not fair >:(

meanwhile your having the time of your life thoroughly ruining every stuck up noble that pops into view and getting away with it bc the Tsaritsa thinks it's funny watching them fume and not be able to do a damn thing, bc your obviously in good favor with her..while completely oblivious to the fact you've both tried to kill each other five times during the entire conversation.

but also maybe an agent gets a lil too suspicious so when you slip out to the balcony they take their chance. except the moment they put their hands on you, their tossed clear across the balcony and through the railing.

the Tsaritsa's expression has been mostly subdued the entire time but she looks pissed. like full on snarl with her big ol teef....yknow :)

which. okay like that was hot but did you just kill your own agent.........

meanwhile the Harbingers are just ????????? excuse me

she does not acknowledge it. just drags you back inside and doesn't let you leave her sight for 0.2 seconds. she also doesn't acknowledge that she feels disappointed when you disappear after the masquerade is over.

it'd be a shame if you showed up again afterwards... 👁👁

THIS GOT TOO LONG UM. anyway pretty tall evil women am i right :) - eros

HASHDFLASDFJSADFSADFASF OSAGHASLFJSLCMSALGHALFSDJCSAASDKFJA EROSSSS OH MY GOODFSADFSDF YKNOW WHAT FUCK YOU EAT YOUR TSARITSA FOOD I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT

QUEEN

Tsaritsa x reader

4.5k words

notes: FUCK this got long i really cannot help myself when it comes to the tsaritsa. i twisted the brainrot a lot idk how it happened don't ask

warnings: violence, blood, slight gore, not sagau, reader wants to murder the Tsaritsa and is not ashamed

The mask clung onto your skin, as well as your fake smile. You kept your steps steady and balanced, despite the weight on your thighs and in your shoes.

Tonight was the night the Tsaritsa would die.

You were silent, eerily so in the loud ballroom. The clacking of shoes and cacophony of voices making it impossible to hear the little noise you were making.

You grabbed a stranger's hand, held onto a random drink, twirled around with them for a moment and moved on. You were floating in the ballroom, every step firm and quiet, every breath even and soft.

It was little things, but they made all the difference when you were less than six feet away from her eminence. When even she didn't catch your form approaching. Her back was not exposed the whole night, but in their happy stupor the harbingers had lured her away from her illustrious throne.

You approached her back, your eyes cast aside somewhere else, your head turned to stare at one of the grand decoration. Your shoes - stuffy and filled with emergency explosives - caught onto the train of Her Majesty's dress and you fell right onto her, your glass dropping out of your hands and shattering on the floor.

She, in all her glory, didn't even stumble. Her veil covered her expression but you saw her head turn.

The noise that so effectively covered any noise was gone. The ballroom was deathly quiet.

As soon as your eyes made contact with her veil you started to wail. Tears leaking out of your eyes before anyone could even blink. You bowed lowly, sputtering apologies, and cradling your hand that was now sputtering out blood.

Your shoes slipped on the liquid on the floor pathetically, and you're not sure what possessed the Tsaritsa, but she grabbed you by your upper arms and helped you regain your bearrings.

The glare of the harbingers was so fucking satisfying but you kept up your frightened façade, your body shaking uncontrollably.

Remember why you're here. The memories resurfaced and it wasn't hard to pretend anymore. The tears from those nights resurfaced and you sobbed uncontrollably just like the kid you used to be.

Her hands on you felt dirty, even through her gloves. She didn't remove her hands from you, instead grabbing your injured hand. There wasn't an ounce of care in her touch, even through the gloves you could feel the biting cold of her fingers.

You sniffled as she walked away from you. And then your jaw dropped as looked back at you.

You stumbled to catch up, an embarrasingly pathetic display.

This was not part of any of your plans. You had hundreds, preparing for this day for years and daydreaming about it for even longer.

But in none of them had you ever entertained the thought of the Tsaritsa willingly leading you into a room alone.

None of the harbingers followed, even though they stared at you like the invader you are, they didn't do anything to stop the Tsaritsa.

Not to mention how frankly stupid this was. You knew your helpless display was supposed to have an effect similar to this, but the Tsaritsa isn't stupid. The bounty on her head is more money than anyone could even dream of, and the emotional satisfaction you'd get from her blood all over the ballroom floor was greater than monetary value. It was enough for you to willingly put your head on the line. She was accustomed to assassins and idiots like you, so why was she acting like this?

You bumped into her, a flurry of apologies spilling out of your mouth.

She held her hand up and you shut your mouth. She opened up the door in front of you two and motioned for you to enter.

You sucked in an apprehensive breath, There's no denying the Tsaritsa, and you stepped straight into your doom.

The room was small compared to the ballroom, but the ceiling was tall as well as the doorway to accommodate their queen. You didn't get much time to inspect it as said ruler ordered you to sit on a nearby seat. You did so with no complaints and the Tsaritsa kneeled in front of you. Your jaw dropped, eyes bulging out of your sockets as she grabbed your hand without warning.

It was still bleeding profusely, and with all the adrenaline from being in the Tsaritsa's presence you didn't even notice the glass shards still stuck in your skin.

The Tsaritsa used her teeth - correction: fangs - to tug off her glove. Her hand was large and slender, her nails nearly claws.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, thudding loudly throughout your system. A shiver crawled up your spine at the sight of her fangs, your hand that she was holding onto locked up. You unconsciously attempted to pull away but her grip increased causing a low whine to itch at the back of your throat.

She used her nails to get the glass out, and once she was done she ran her finger over your palm.

You yelped, "Cold!"

You swore you heard the breath of a laugh escape her, but she didn't acknowledge it and you chose not to as well.

Meanwhile the skin on your hand sealed up cleanly, leaving nothing but smeared blood on your palm.

That's when your sensed kicked back into gear. This is chess, and the key to winning was right in front of you.

You leaned down, faking a pained expression, "S-sorry this getup is really stuffy..." She didn't move, her hand remaining on your once injured one until it was fully healed.

When you felt her grip loosen you held on tighter, grabbing her wrist and pulling you towards her.

Your finger tugged on the trigger to activate the explosive but her gloved hand grabbed your arm and nearly tore it clean off.

You brought your leg up to kick her square in the jaw. She dodged with ease, her non-gloved hand grabbed the back of your neck and flung you across the room. Your back slammed against the wall and you let yourself go limp.

Her heels clacked against the floor, like a clock counting the seconds to your last breath. She stopped in front of you, you kept your head tilted forward, allowing a few more tears to fall from your eyes.

She kneeled down and tugged your hair back, forcing your enraged eyes to meet hers.

You plunged your knife into her neck, but she moved a bit out of the way. Still, blood poured out of her neck.

Golden blood.

She grinned her fingers coming up to feel the liquid, smearing it on her hand.

Her fangs flashed, they were deadly sharp.

KILL THE QUEEN!

You charged head first in again, your knife ready to plunge into her neck once more. She hit the floor with a thud, her body lax and not struggling, an almost dreamy smile on her lips, her veil had fallen above her head revealing her eyes...

Your entire body froze. Not in fear nor from the cold, no the adrenaline running through your veins was enough to drive the blade straight through her neck.

So why weren't you?

Your orbs, wide and wild, stared directly into her calm and piercing ones. They were a light blue... sort of. They were more like opal gemstones, reflecting every color in the cold ice that has frozen them over. There were so many colors deep within her orbs, you're sure you could study them for a century and still not have them memorized.

"I haven't seen my own blood in a long time, much less in a golden hue." The Tsaritsa was relaxed, even with the blade right above her throat, her eyes were hypnotizing.

She placed her pointer finger - ungloved - on the tip of the blade and pushed it away.

Your body didn't struggle, but you could feel your face twisting in anger and frustration. She sat up, slowly, leering down at you. She took the veil completely off and set it aside.

"You do know what's happening to you, right?" She grabbed the blade from your hands with no struggle.

You growled, "You..."

She grinned, for someone so expressionless during the party, the way her lips curled made your blood curdle.

She put her clawed pointer finger on your nose, "My eyes hold the power of love, and that is to make whoever looks at them to do whatever I please." Her smile was damning, burning itself into your brain as another reminder of this damn woman, "So, in short, you never stood a chance."

"You fucking-" Your tongue went numb, and if looks could kill you'd be walking away from the palace with enough money to buy another Zapolyarny palace.

"Such awful language, not even going to beg for mercy?" She pouted, but her eyes - despite the complexity - remained perfectly protected behind ice. Nothing slipped past her secure barricades.

You regained feeling in your tongue, "I'd rather die." You spat.

She hummed, "Well, too bad I find that utterly boring. Stand up." She commanded and your body obeyed without another thought. She stood up after you, her looking down at you was a million times worse with her veil off, "You wanted to kill me, I'll give you until the end of the night to succeed."

"Wait- I don't agree to th-!"

"You're in no place to be asking for things." She put her large hand on your head, forcing your head to tilt up to look at her eyes, "If you refuse to kill me all bets are off. I'll give you to my harbingers to handle, and trust me they're not as merciful as me." Her grin was hollow.

You glared, "Fuck you."

"There'll be no room for that out no the dancefloor. Now," She swiped a hand over her wound and all traces of what you'd done were gone. She grabbed your hand, "Let's go."

*~

You didn't have a choice in the matter. The Tsaritsa had fixed herself and you up, and led you back to the ballroom.

The stares you got were invigorating, all pairs of eyes on the imposing aura of the Tsaritsa and then traveling to you. They were confused as to why you were hanging off of her arm.

Honestly you didn't know yourself but you weren't passing up this opportunity to tear apart the Zapolyarny palace from the inside. Not like you could leave but might as well pretend you had some autonomy in this situation.

Though it didn't take long to be thoroughly sick of the night. You were already disoriented from your first assassination attempt, and once the nobles started approaching the Tsaritsa and talking to her you felt your insides turn.

"Your glory precedes you and your wonderful deeds are ones that have been spread throughout the land thanks to my help." They'd say shit like that, and it pissed you off.

At least the Tsaritsa wasn't pretending she wasn't a piece of shit, but these guys were making her seem like a saint. She. Isn't.

"Your eminence, I must commend you on your conquest of the other archons and rebellious individuals in Snezhnaya. Organizations like that will merely tear down all of your hard work."

"Yeah mass genocide is tiring." You said, melting further the Tsaritsa's side so if the noble made a move you could use her as a shield, "Rebellions are so awful too not like that's how Mondstadt liberated themselves from an oppressive ruler. Oh, but it's bad when it happens here."

"You-" Their eyes darted from you to the Tsaritsa back and forth over and over, "You dare sully the Tsaritsa's good name and Snezhnaya? In front of her and in the Zapolyarny palace no less?" He screamed, catching quite a few more eyes.

You suppose this is what going out with a bang meant.

You grinned, "Yes."

"Why you-!" He reached for you, red in the face from rage and the embarrassment.

It wasn't a second later his hand was cut clean off. The Tsaritsa remained mostly motionless, save for the blood on the hand that wasn't occupied with you.

A scream ripped from his throat, and yet the only reaction was one of the harbingers dragging him off.

"What the fuck..." You whispered.

"Are you alright? He didn't touch you right?" There was a mocking lilt in her voice.

You huffed, glaring up at her, "No."

Another attendant had given her cloth she could wash her hand with.

"Good." She pat your head once her hand was clean.

The lingering stench of blood didn't bother you.

Oddly enough there were still nobles willing to approach the Tsaritsa, even with you blabbering away at her side.

You already tried to assassinate her, she could kill you at any time with little more than a "they were annoying" to write off your death. You might as well cause a little ruckus while you were here. This might be your last night.

"Your holiness," An entrepreneur bowed, his expensive outfit making all sorts of noise as he moved, "Thanks to your help of eradicating those annoying vermin, our operations can go smoothly. The production of precious gemstone jewelry is booming, and we don't have to travel all the way to Liyue as much anymore."

It was a way to brag and advertise his business and his supposed "connection" to the Tsaritsa by loudly exclaiming all of this. You could already see the jealous gazes (that had also been fixed on you) sweeping over to this guy.

Your gaze darkened, "Eradicating vermin that were doing more good than you are right now?"

The guy jumped, clearly not expecting you to actually talk.

He glared, "What is that supposed to mean? Surely you're not defending those wastes of spaces?"

"And who are you to decide who's a waste of space or not?" You matched his glare, "If it were up to me everyone in here is stealing precious oxygen, but I'm not pretentious enough to actually think that."

He huffed, glancing up at the Tsaritsa, expecting her to shut your foul mouth. But instead there was an amused smile on her lips.

The man pursed his lips, clearly annoyed but not willing to step on the Tsaritsa's toes, "Then I hope you enjoy it in the Zapolyarny palace, where everyone thinks the same of you."

That's if I survive past tonight. You didn't say it aloud, and the man walked away in a fuss.

"You're quite amusing." The Tsaritsa chuckled, her baritone voice and quite tone making her hard to hear with the bustling crowd and music, "I haven't seen this much action at a party since Tartaglia was first announced a harbinger."

You hummed, not really caring.

The Tsaritsa muttered, "Everyone is expecting you to ask me to dance."

"What!" You exclaimed a bit too loudly, a few eyes flickering over to your masked face before turning away.

Her smile widened, "You've been the only one brave enough to talk so brazenly right in front of me, they're wondering if we're going to dance."

"..." You furrowed your brows, "Are you trying to get me to ask you to dance?"

She grinned, "I don't know, are you going to ask me?"

You glared up at her, and you couldn't see her eyes through her veil. You felt cursed to know what secret was under her veil.

You huffed, standing in front of her. With a damn near wicked grin, you bowed and held your hand out, "Would you like to dance with me?"

You gave her no honorifics, an evil smile, and a knife ready in your sleeve.

She took your hand, despite seeing all the red flags, and walked straight into the fire pit with you.

Although when you're the goddess of ice, you suppose fire can't hurt you much anyways.

The Tsaritsa realized all too quickly that you weren't the best at dancing. She giggled while offering you to step on her shoes.

You declined at first, for your pride... but you quickly realized that constantly tripping was a lot more embarrassing than stepping on her toes.

So, begrudgingly, you did so.

She led the dance gracefully, and everyone made room for the two of you.

It was the perfect crime scene. It'd be beautiful and bloody.

Your hand placed on her waist was perfect, the knife slipped from your sleeve and-

She grabbed your wrist in a death grip, but you didn't let go of the weapon.

She grinned and slid it back into your sleeve with her finger, "You're going to have to try harder than that."

You huffed, her claws had left tiny cuts on your wrist, just barely pouring out a few droplets of blood.

Tripping the Tsaritsa was also a fruitless endeavor. You had tried and only ended up almost falling yourself, though she had framed it as intentional as she had caught you.

You were sweating from all the dancing, as well as the multiple attempts of seeing more of her ichor. To see those eyes with no power behind them.

The Tsaritsa giggled at your face, letting go of your hand to touch your forehead. The flicker of coolness from her glove was a relief, though it wasn't much.

"Should we go to the balcony to cool you down?" She teased, the emotion in her tone made you sneer uncomfortably.

"...sure..." You muttered, keeping your eyes trained suspiciously on her.

She slowed to a stop, "Well you'll have to get off my feet first," She chuckled.

You blinked and stepped off, though she didn't release your hand. Instead she led you to the balcony, her dress billowing behind her elegantly.

You grit your teeth at how pristine she looked. You'd given your whole life away to see her dead, and here you were, right next to her. Both of you still breathing.

The door shut behind the both of you, leaving the two of you completely isolated. The cold air on the balcony was refreshing, less so with the Tsaritsa's large hand holding onto your own but it wasn't like you could just shake her off.

No, you came here to kill the queen. And you'd do it no matter what, even if it ended with you gone too. You'd be at peace.

But there was no peace in the blizzard, and you were a prisoner of the Snezhnayan snow.

The Tsaritsa stood behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you turned to look at her. Before you could crane your neck up to look at her, she placed her bare hand on your forehead.

"You're cooling down."

You shivered, "That's because you're freezing."

She placed her other gloved hand on your neck, there wasn't any murderous intent behind it - more of a warning.

"It doesn't seem the cold bothers you much, if you were willing to come here and try to kill the Tsaritsa herself." Her fingers slightly increased their grip.

Your heart rate spiked uncomfortably, "It was out of necessity."

"It was necessary for you to kill me, hm?" You could hear the smile in her voice.

Your fists clenched. "Yes."

She hummed, amused, "I've heard that many times, sometimes when you're told something over and over again you start to believe it."

"So will you roll over and let me kill you?"

She tilted your head back, grinning down at you. Just barely you could see a twinkle of her eyes, "I'm afraid I'm not there yet. Though if you were to beg me I might think about it."

You paused.

She laughed out loud, genuine and surprised, "You're not actually considering it are you?"

"I did say it was necessary for me to kill you." You shrugged, "Any means necessary. Plus you'd be the only one to see and you'd be dead."

She hummed, "You're determined, I'll give you that. Maybe a bit too much for such a pretty face."

You narrowed your eyes, "Your flattery is meaningless to me."

"I'm aware, but it's not meaningless to me." Her smile softened.

You grimaced, "What is that supposed to mean?"

She moved some hair out of your face. She answered with an enigmatic smile, and leaned into your ear.

"I know why you want me dead," She whispered, you could feel her smile against the shell of your ear.

"You..." Your words fell flat as did all reasoning in your head.

She pulled back, and you could see her beautiful eyes from under her veil.

Anger pooled through your veins, melting your veins frozen over from the cold.

You turned quickly, tugging on whatever you could grab on her and shoving your knife directly in front of you.

There was no strategy, no rhyme or reason. This was the worst plan you had and that was to recklessly stab at her, with tears streaming down your face.

Sadly, she had covered the knife with her hand, but it had still gone through her hand and golden ichor was leaking out the sides.

She grabbed your hair with her unoccupied hand, tugging at it painfully. You didn't let go of the knife until the pain grew too powerful. With both of your hands now free, you grabbed the front of her shirt and tugged her towards you. With that you grabbed her neck and used the vision you had desperately ignored for the first time in years.

She choked, the ice crawling across her body.

The both of you lost your balance, falling onto the floor with the Tsaritsa on top of you.

She held herself up with one hand, the other still had your knife through it.

You reached your foot up and tried to kick her away, but it didn't phase her a bit. You used your hands to punch her and scratch her until there was golden streaks across her shoulders and cryo flecks all across her body, turning her skin black.

Tears were still streaming down your face. She wasn't fighting back. You were hopeless.

You sniffled pathetically, but still gave it your all.

"Using my own element against me? You're quite bold."

"Y-you need to die." You gritted out, "Why don't you get it, why won't you kill me? I want you dead!" You screeched.

There was a smile on her face, almost ethereal. You could see her eyes, you were staring directly at them. They were so pretty. They'd look even prettier without any life in them.

"I hate you," You sneered, "I hate you, I hate you."

She grinned, "Good."

However her grin was wiped right off her face all too soon as you felt a pinch in your neck.

You blacked out before you could see the carnage.

*~

You woke up feeling like you had just slept for a decade. Your entire body felt like it was made of lead and you just wanted to go back to sleep.

Then you felt your bed moving.

You gasped, bolting up. You groaned grabbing your head and a sore spot on your neck where you had probably slept funny.

You heard a groan from below you, you looked down to see the Tsaritsa.

"What the fuck!" You screeched, practically falling off the bed with a bang.

The Tsaritsa leaned over the side of the oversized bed hastily, "Are you okay?"

You sat up, "What happened?" You glared up at the Tsaritsa and she calmed down a bit.

"Good to know you're alright and still glaring." She put her clawed pointer finger in between your eyebrows, "Calm down, you're going to get wrinkles."

"Tell me what happened." You gritted your teeth.

"You tried to kill me multiple times, one of my attendants saw and heard, they darted you. It wasn't lethal but it had you out cold for days." She said. She wasn't wearing her veil so her eyes were on full display. They were wide and guarded, "Needless to say, you won't be seeing him ever again."

"What? Why?" You slowly stood up and the Tsaritsa helped you (while you grimaced).

"They tried to hurt you." She said simply.

You laughed in disbelief, "And I tried to kill you. Their actions were justified."

"Like I said, I know why you want me dead." She ran her fingers through your hair delicately, and you sneered at the touch, "And you're too interesting to be dead. If I had wanted you dead you'd have been gone as soon as I saw you enter the Zapolyarny Palace."

"..." You stared into space silently, until finally a dreaded question crawled its way out of your throat. You attempted to push it down to no avail until finally you were spewing out your thoughts, "Why did I live?"

She was silent for a few moments. She sighed, "Because you were too much like me. I've seen so many hopeless faces, you were hopeless and alone. Everyone you knew was dead, and yet you still didn't run. You wanted to survive. You wanted me dead." She laughed, "That's how you got that vision right there isn't it?" Your eyes snapped over to your vision on the side table, "Your ambition to live another day and to kill me. That thing is the reason you got away, and it's the reason I didn't follow you. Because if I had died in the snow alone all those years ago..." She didn't finish her thought. She grabbed the vision and tossed it over to you.

You caught it and frowned down at it.

"You hate that thing don't you?"

"With all of my being."

She chuckled, "I didn't expect anything else. Well, I'm not the one who decides who gets the vision of cryo. That is all you shall know about that. So you can stop cursing my name and start cursing the cruel hands of Celestia."

"Celestia..." Your eyes drifted over to hers, "You're starting a war with the stars aren't you?"

She snickered, "They're getting what's coming to them. You feel the same way about me as I do with Celestia. Sadly I can't let you kill me until my business with them is finished. Then maybe I'll let you get a few more stabs in."

You snorted, mildly amused, "Thanks I guess. Wait, is this a plot to recruit me to your Fatui organization? Gotta take down Celestia before I can get to you?"

"I mean, I'd quite enjoy your company but I won't force you to join the Fatui." Her hands delicately came up under your chin, "Having you around is enough."

You sneered, "You're a real charmer."

"I like to think I'm efficient, especially as the goddess of 'love'."

You hummed, "It's a deal then. I'll stick around until the fall of Celestia and then I'll be the murderer of the Tsaritsa."

She grinned, fangs poking out of her lips. She leaned in menacingly, "Deal. Just make sure you don't die in the Zapolyarny Palace. You're mine to kill just as I am yours."

"That sounds too romantic." You deadpanned.

She grinned, "Well I am the supposed goddess of love."

[boundinparchment]

If my reader characters had no personalities, no backstories, nothing, I’d have no fic. Because they’d have no motivations. No challenges. Nothing to overcome.

Rocks for brains is what they’d have.

Characters have impact on the story, on the world. I’m so fucking sorry you have no imagination, no empathy, no ability to recognize what’s exists for the sake of the story and what you can take or leave as far as projecting.

[dulcesiabits]

hello beautiful gamers and feast upon 2k words of a nagi fic draft that i wrote in a fit of insanity !!! rin is there too. reo makes one brief appearance. i fudged a lot of details of music competitions bc it's been so long since i competed lol. under the cut for length :3

“Rin asked me to be his partner,” you tell Nagi flatly, running a cloth along your violin strings, rosin catching in the fabric. 

“Did you tell him no?” Nagi says absently, stuffing his own bow haphazardly in his case. There’s an easy confidence in his voice. 

You stare at the thick, chalky white lines on the cloth, the condensed remains of your hard work for the competition. “I’m going to tell him yes.”

“What? How’s that gonna work? Are you going to enter different competitions with me and him?”

“No, Nagi. I’m telling you that you’re no longer my partner. Rin is.”

There’s an unfamiliar emotion spasming across Nagi’s face when you peek at him, his mouth parting slightly, his tongue running over his bottom teeth, as if searching for the words in the hollow of his throat.

“Why?” Nagi asks, quietly. “We play well together.”

“We don’t play well enough,” you say sharply. “Rin beat us today. He’s better than us.”

“I don’t get it.”

You set down your rosin, your bow, your violin, all slotting neatly into place, before slamming the top of the case down with a sharp click. “It’s simple. We can’t improve if we stick together, and I only aim for the top. Nagi, why do you play?”

“Play?”

“Play music,” you snap. You stare, hard, at the smooth fabric of your violin case, the surface marred by scratches and nicks and stains, from over a decade of lugging it around everywhere. 

“Dunno,” he says. 

“And that’s why I can’t partner with you anymore. You… don’t know,” you say thinly. “Do you know why I play?”

He tilts his head. Oblivious. Soft. Slow. This fucking genius. No calluses on his hands, no experience. Perfect pitch and sloppy posture. A pristine violin case, which he throws over his shoulder with no care as he stands.

Your fingers are trembling, discordant notes spilling across invisible strings. You take a deep breath in, then another. It’s too small in this room. Too stuffy, even as you rise, violin case held with care. “I play because I want to be the best. I want to win, Nagi. And you don’t. You’re slowing me down, do you understand?”

His posture tenses, his shoulders tauten. There’s a hard set to his jaw now. The calm waters of his eyes are stormy. “So you’re leaving me?”

You take a step towards him, but he doesn’t budge. You’re so close now that you can feel his body heat, your skin mere inches from connecting. “I’m throwing you away,” you breathe, “Because I can’t play with someone who doesn’t even practice consistently. Who wastes every chance, every gift, thrown in his lap.”

Nagi’s head jerks back, like you’ve slapped him. “You wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without me,” he says, but he looks like a stranger now. “You know that? You’ve only gotten this far because you’ve been using me. You don’t have any talent on your own.”

You could kill him for that. You want to kill him. You want to rip his throat out with your teeth, to taste his blood in your mouth, to feel the gore and muscle and flesh catch between your gums. At this angle, you could. You could lunge and sink your teeth in his fucking neck, and it would be just like a kiss.

Instead, you bark out a short, bitter laugh. “I know that. But I don’t care. I’m going to be the best, Nagi. And if I can’t use you, then you’re useless to me. You only play what people tell you to play. Someone like you… could never help me be the best in the world.”

Nagi blinks, and you wonder if he’s going to cry, but no– his gaze is dry. Flat. Like dead autumn leaves, blowing across the pavement. What did you expect?

You stalk off, without giving him another backwards glance, even as his gaze burns your back. It’s cruel. You’re cruel, but you have never pretended to be anything other than what you were. Always desperate for more. Always reaching for better. You’re nothing but hunger, and you will sacrifice anyone at the altar of your dreams to succeed.

Rin is waiting by the stone steps outside the entrance hall, a coat bundled to his neck. “Well?” he says curtly. “Have you thought about my offer?” 

“I accept,” you tell him. The chill air nips you, and you shiver. Nagi would have probably tried to wrap you up in his coat, but Rin only watches you with eyes like stone. Good– that suits you better than Nagi’s vague, insipid kindness. Your expectations for Rin, and his for you: they’re clear. Clean. Neat. A simple thread that you can cut anytime you want.

“Don’t slow me down,” Rin says. “We start practice tomorrow.”

“That’s what I should say to you,” you say thinly. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Rin scoffs. “Ridiculous. If you’re going to regret your choice, then we can end our deal here.”

Regret? Pity? Sympathy? Those were pointless emotions. You’d fly as high as you dared until you could call yourself the sun. If you fell. If you burned. If wax wings melted off your back and sent you plummeting into the sea. Then that was simply as far as you were meant to go. 

“I don’t regret anything, Rin,” you say. Nagi’s face flickers in your mind like a wavering candle, but it’s snuffed out in the cold autumn winds. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

—

It’s easier to be duet partners with Rin.

On some instinctive level, the two of you are striving for the same thing. There’s no small talk, no camaraderie. You show up at his place to practice music and you play until your fingers are numb from pressing on the strings. The longest sentence he tells you is “you were too slow on  measure 32. Keep up.” 

It’s perfect, because you don’t need kindness. You don’t need understanding. Rin and you are under a mutual agreement: you will use and devour each other until only one person remains. To use, and to be used. In this world, to stand at the top, you have to crush everyone else. For a chair position in a prestigious orchestra, hundreds of other applicants have to fail for one person to succeed.

You haven’t talked to Nagi since that day, either, which suits you just fine. No texts, no calls, and you haven’t run into him at Anri’s studio. He might as well have fallen off the face of the earth. But you have other things to worry about than your former partner, even as his memory clings stubbornly to the edge of your mind. 

In a few months, there’s going to be a music competition in Tokyo that Rin has applied for the two of you to participate in. You recognize the name of the judges, some semi-famous composers, and you would never turn down the chance to prove yourself in this world. 

Your performance slot is in the early morning. When it dawns, it’s brisk, gray and cold, without the sun to heat away a low-clinging fog. You show up with your violin on your back and your performance clothes pressed and neat, Rin already practicing in a side room when you get there to put down your things. When did he get here? Much earlier than you, apparently, and you’d shown up half an hour early.

You set out your instrument and join Rin without preamble, seamlessly sliding into the music on the next measure. The two of you play in silence. With Rin, it’s a constant push and pull. There’s no melodic blending of two musicians: instead, the two of you compete, fight and claw your way through each note, refusing to cede ground for the other to shine.

It’s explosive, like a battle, and yet, there’s something captivating in its terrible power. If playing with Nagi had been like creating the universe anew, then playing with Rin feels like destroying everything you know.

The last refrain ends, a note echoing into the silence, before Rin drops his bow.

“Don’t disappoint me,” Rin says. “If you fall behind, I’ll throw you away, just like all the others.”

“That’s what I should be telling you,” you say back. “If you can’t keep up with me, then I’ll replace you, Rin.” 

There’s no more idle talk after that, only the sound of music in the practice room. When the two of you walk onto the stage, you don’t even whisper good luck to each other. Success: that’s the only thing either of you will expect.

 Your performance goes even better than you expected; you made the right choice to partner with Rin. Under the hot statelights and a hushed crowd, you put your violin to your chin, and play.

You, Rin. Rin, you. Fighting, jostling, for space on the stage. Your fingers are a blur. A trickle of sweat runs down your back. You’re side by side. You’re miles away. Partners? Friends? No. The two of you are enemies on the stage, even as your music blends together seamlessly.

You’re a musician. A dreamer. No, you’re going to be the best in the world. Rin will just be someone else you use to get there. 

Your last note rings into the stillness, a sound as clear as a star, and then the audience hall explodes into clapping. You and Rin bow deeply.

“Your staccato notes are still too long, Rin. Don’t tell me you forgot the notations,” you murmur, eyes glued to the wooden floor.

“Hah? Your vibrato was messy,” Rin snaps back. “It sounded like a cat screeching.”

You both rise, and head to the side wings, velvet curtains enveloping your forms. You stretch, but Rin pauses; two other contestants are already lined up in the wings, watching the two of you in darkness.

One of them steps up to you, and your breath hitches as the lights of the stage throw his face out of the gloom. “You played well,” Nagi says. 

“I thought you quit,” you say numbly.

Nagi’s partner steps up, slinging an arm around his shoulders casually. “As you can see, he’s still in the running. But wow. You’re the person Nagi wants to compete against?” He quirks a smile at you, but it’s more calculating than friendly. “I’m Reo. It’s nice to meet you. Nagi has… told me a lot about you.”

“If you have something to say to us, spit it out,” Rin snarls. “You’re wasting our time otherwise.”

Nagi stares at you calmly, making no move to acknowledge Rin’s words. It’s as if it’s just the two of you again, and that’s all the people the world had room for. “You want to be the best in the world, right?” he says slowly, eyes fixated on your face. “But that’s not going to happen. I’m… going to snatch your spot, right from under your nose.” 

You cross your arms, and say coolly, “Are you two performing next? You should hurry. It’s not polite to make the judge wait.”

Nagi inclines his head. “Watch me, then.”

Those are the final words he leaves you with as he and Reo dart into the spotlight. As if his words had been a spell, you and Rin stay rooted to your spots. Nagi’s posture is a little less sloppy now. His hold on the violin is more sure.

Nagi’s first note strikes across the room like a sunbeam. Ah, there it is again. That beautiful, warm sound, like stars bursting into existence. As you let yourself get swept into the flow of his music, you stare at his face, shining under the spotlights. He’s no longer quite so sleepy or aimless anymore. 

“You already left him. If you regret things now, you’re going to slow me down,” Rin says curtly, watching you with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t make decisions I regret, Rin. I was just thinking that it’s cute that he wants to chase me when he knows nothing about music. I won’t let an amateur get close to the top.”

You gesture to Rin, a sharp flick of your wrist, and though he scoffs at you, the two of you vanish into the darkness of the wings, Nagi’s music chasing after you all the while.

[always-a-joyful-note]

You don't know how much I can Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint code Enstars because I could. Because you have a set up where you are basically taking the place of Anzu--a person created simply to be the reader's/player's self-insert. Because the characters all exist to love Anzu while they're going through their own arcs. Because Anzu also exists to love and support the characters by the game's own coding. She is their world and their hope, and the enstars characters are her idols (and I don't just mean that as singers and dancers).

But slowly, I've seen posts and even small summaries of how Anzu starts becoming her own person, small ways apart from the characters. Yes, she's still quiet. Yes, she is almost always a Viewer. Except for the fact that this is a game story, not just a book or novel story. And games are meant to be played...not by the characters but by someone who is watching them but has not created them.

This is how Anzu has more power than a normal reader. This is also how she has less power than a normal reader. The game allows her to exercise power over the characters' lives that a normal reader of a book cannot--she can help along Trickstar, be the behind the scenes producer for a number of the idol groups in the school, doing something to make them shine. But she is always a puppet, controlled by the player. She has a silly personality with a questionable naming sense and determination and hard-headedness to boot...her preferences for the units and who she builds up are always changing according to the player. Her only goal is to make sure her idols shine (what more does a reader want than to see their characters shine?), yet the goal of the Enstars characters is to adore Anzu and make people like her who support them happy (where would the characters be without a reader?)

Like the Oldest Dream, she is the most powerful and weakest god of all. A puppet steered by the fantasies of many, many individuals yet always loved by the characters for "herself."

[chillllii]

when the audhd is fun until you become "i really really really have to give my input/side/idea and i dont give a fuck who's talking or what everyone was initially talking about" and before this site's illiteracy kicks in i'm certain we're all guilty of this to some extent

[neogotmyblack]

Clearing my drafts bc over the past year I felt a twinge of the chance to offer folks an out or a grace period, so to speak, to get themselves together, but after due consideration I shouldn’t have to hunt, scroll, check and follow up to see if someone un-racists themselves tbh. I may go back and see if they redeemed themselves when addressed and if I see they did, I’ll qrb my own post and say as such, but I’m not a detective. As such, I’ll also not go back to see how active someone is or isn’t anymore.

If I see the thing happened at any point, I’m posting it which will explain the flurry of posts suddenly this morning that were released from my drafts and a potential barrage of posts I may make later. That includes things from over years that I’ll transfer from my notepad, bc originally I started keeping the screencaps and names there & once I started posting here, I paused posting old ones in favor of the most recent transgressions as they happened. Maybe the writers acct is still up, maybe it isn’t; dc. I’m keeping the names on my notepad with a note but all pic evidence will go here with their @ as well bc i don’t see why I should have it taking space on my phone 🤷🏾‍♀️ Maybe the screen-cap is 3 years old, maybe they don’t even have tumblr anymore, iDC. Maybe I’ll use queue, maybe I won’t.

☼༄I always keep track of changed usernames or extra accts of that person that may pop up in my reading while perusing the tags & they note it in their bio or w/e in my phone too so there’s a paper trail (so to speak) so obviously I’ll be adding that lol

[lush3-1]

apparently someone does have a crush on me and i have no idea who it is so i'm dying to know

[sapphic-woes]

Maybe I rlly should just move onto apex....like this is what I do to cope, distract, help my mental health, no goddamn way imma deal with a hint of anything that does the opposite.

[thirstyandbeautiful]

Mick with a short girl🥹pls

Baby pls I am a munchkin all of my mick fics are written from a five foot perspective 😭😭😭

[seventh-district]

CW: mention of gun violence (in a nightmare. not IRL)

i know for a fact that my period makes me more apt to cry over things because i can have a vivid nightmare about getting randomly gunned down while waiting in line to pick up a pizza then wake up and not shed a tear but when i’m on my period i can have one (1) bad dream about my father yelling at me and i wake up and promptly begin full-on sobbing into my pillow

[panvani]

The absolutely sublime emotional experience of realizing the actual dynamic of Gilbert and Vincent's relationship

[yourqueenb]

I think this entire conversation is exactly why they don’t trust you girl 😬 Literally everything goes over your head and it shouldn’t

[vampire-himbos-of-santa-perdita]

Slowly realizing lately that we’re in a post-critical analysis world. Once upon a time, we used to analyse the media we consumed cuz it was fun to theorize and compare notes on where the stories were going. But now, if we’re analysing things, it’s like some sort of gotcha! to prove that the media is poorly written and bad, actually. When that’s not what it should be about at all! What happened to engaging thoughtfully in art where we could have enthusiastic conversations with each other about content that speaks to us without tearing one another’s opinions apart? And yes, that should include engaging critically with the content we love.

You can love a thing and respect someone else’s opinions about it while also addressing its flaws. That shouldn’t automatically mean tearing each other down for not agreeing or immediately cancelling an artist for writing potentially problematic content. I just think we’re going down a dangerous road where discord is consuming us all and we need to be stop thinking in such black and whites all the time. There’s beauty in grey areas. We should celebrate that more.

[jokingmaiden]

me: man i haven’t peeked into the moon knight tag in a little while!! why did i stop again? anyways, let’s see what—

the moon knight tag: “alter y/n,” “murder daddy jake,” “sex pollen smut fic,” etc

me: oh right. i remember now