#the quotes are from their yet unwritten story....

[almalinked]

Profiles - AlmaLinked OCs - Pt.1

Raymundo Ortiz - ♥️🐇 Reluctant(?) Protagonist

"If you hit a bat with a broom, it's obvious it'll turn into your classmate in a poof of smoke. Dead in your living room. Yup. I've finally gone insane!"

A university art student who left home to study under a scholarship. As he works day shifts at a café, most of his classes are during the night: his classmates are…unique.  Turns out most humans aren’t supposed to see—or even be drawn to—the night class offers, yet he remains oblivious of this fact for months. Perhaps, this started from the moment he got that scholarship... Raymundo’s passionate and emotionally driven, owner of a fiery temperament and an intimidating glare that often keeps people away. Old habits die hard and he’s too used to being on the defensive to save himself pain, but even so his heart constantly peeks out his sleeve (literally, if you count the birthmark on his wrist).  If you talk to him for more than a couple minutes, you’d find a friendly guy who’s just too worried and overly conscious about being judged by others. His closest friends, Marina and Niko, are all the way back home and while Ray tells himself he can well survive as a loner, he longs to connect to others. Now, if his classmate Angelo would stop being a jerk, they might even become friends…?

Age: 20/21 years old Pronouns: he/him Languages: Spanish (native), English (second) Occupation: art college student, cafe barista/waiter Family: -Dad (died in an accident) -Mom, Stepmom -Grandma -Younger sister, Rosario (17 y/o) -Two older siblings -Back home, they have a rabbit (Canela), a couple fishes, a dog (Batata) Likes: art (drawing, painting, sculpting he manages different mediums); rock/metal music, pop occasionally; bunnies, cute things in general; running, exercise Dislikes: pineapple on pizza; horror movies; feeling lonely; pointless violence; awkward silences/completely silent rooms Appearance: -Short brown hair, longer bangs at the sides which he usually braids (the tips are dyed orange); when drawing or working, he pushes it back with a bandana so it's not in the way -1,65 cm tall, strong torso and arms, balanced build -Has freckles across his cheeks, shoulders and back; dark green eyes; hands often have smudges (pencil, oil, paint), skin is a bit rough, faint scarring around knuckles and one more notable starting between his index and middle finger and ending before his wrist -Has a 'birthmark' on his right wrist curiously shaped like a heart ♥ -Wears earrings and piercings on both ears -Day to day he wears comfortable shirts and jeans or overalls; has a set of overalls specifically for when he paints that have accumulated plenty of oil, watercolor, carbon etc smudges. Back in high school, he used to dress mostly in black, and while these days he's incorporated color, he still enjoys a bit of goth/emo fashion (he'll usually wear those clothes for band concerts). Misc: -Bi, demisexual; has limited romantic experience. -Wears socks with cute patterns (paws, animals, etc) -Doesn't handle horror well--back home, Marina would make him and Niko watch horror movies all the time but he never warmed up to them. He prefers to watch comedy or tear jerkers. Despite how he tries to appear, he's a big sentimental guy. -Focuses better with music in the background -He's a scrappy fighter, with a bit of technique he picked up for self defense. He WILL fight back if provoked.

Angelo Valentini - ♠️🃏 Self Proclaimed Cryptid

"I'm not dead, you fool. Now, could you take me out of this closet? It's quite cramped..."

(Do vampires count as cryptids? Angelo would say that yes). He's Ray's classmate in some of his classes, and assistant to the head of university; one of the few people who gets to see them in person. His main interest lies in fashion but he enjoys studying a large range of subjects to make up for lost time (and now he has immortality worth of it). No one knows where he goes during the day, or where he lives, or really—much about him.  He’s a man with past regrets, and a future he doesn’t knows what to do with. Upon a first impression, Angelo appears as someone of few words, serious and distant; he’s blunt and to the point and this often causes him to come off as rude (sometimes on purpose, sometimes not, but he doesn’t usually care). Logical and calculating, he leaves little room for emotion. It all betrays a secret playful side, and a softer, caring personality reserved for a select few. At first, he and Ray don’t see eye to eye and clash often. But with time, some snacks, close encounters with vampires—and one Christmas where Ray hit him with a broom, they start to become friends. He's also Danielle's ex. But that is a far longer story.

Age: 22/23 at time of turning; as a vampire, ? Pronouns: he/him Languages: Italian (Native), English (Second), some Spanish and a little French Occupation: student; assistant in university (bookkeeper, helps manage the library, various duties). Family (as human): -Mother (died of sickness when he was 14; she was a nurse) -Biological Father (unknown status, didn’t meet him→someone his mother had an affair with) -Step Father (in name only, never liked Angelo) -Younger sister, Luchia (the person he did everything for while alive) Likes: fashion, fashion history, making clothes; languages; fruits, pineapple on pizza; mystery and suspense, undiscovered things, cryptids, legends and myths Dislikes: pushy/meddling people; romcoms; asking for help Appearance: -Long, pale hair, often loose or braid or ponytail. -Long lashes, slender hands; naturally slender body but a little too thin at times due to lack of eating; in the past, his hands would have scattered bandages or bandaids from manual work/lack of care and resources for it. Having become a vampire, his complexion actually got better in some aspects (wounds heal faster) but if you take a close look, his body retains the memory of his habits as a human (and he still sucks at taking care of himself). -Tallish, around 1,70cm, long legs -Day to day, he usually wears dress pants, shirt and vest (no tie, but sometimes a cravat), which makes him stand out amidst more casually dressed students (Ray joked once he dressed LIKE a vampire). He enjoys a wide range of fashion, though, particularly long elegant dresses (one of his favorite pieces to make, as well). -As a human (disguise or past self),aquamarine/emerald green eyes, otherwise red; large bat ears/fangs/etc. -In bat mode, he’s an albino fruit bat. Misc: -Gay, demiromantic; he's slept with multiple people across his mortal and immortal life, but only loved one (so far). If not for him, he may not have become a vampire... -Back in the day, he learned to sew and often crafted clothes for himself or his sister due to lack of money. However he quite enjoys it. -Knowledgeable in Gambling/Cardgames: he learned many games and gambling techniques to make money. -Cryptid hunter: the truth is out there...

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

What would Miss Raven's dream be like in chapter 7, what would be the catalyst that would make her cower, if he were in Jade's dream, what would her version be like (I imagine Jade would see Drem!Raven as a silly and passionate girl who believes everything what he says) and how would she react to all this?

I���ve written about what Miss Raven would be dreaming about in book 7 ^^ (It can be read here!) I also wrote about how she might be woken up (here!).

To summarize (and add a little more to what I wrote before), Miss Raven would be curse-free and living in a real life fairy tale/Disney musical 😂 She’d be a common village girl that gets the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go to the ball ✨

I think she’d be rattled a little when she’s reminded that she still has unfinished business… Miss Raven hates to leave a task undone, or a story unwritten. There’s still too many possibilities unexplored! You could tell her about how this world, despite looking perfect, is actually rigid and doesn’t allow for any liberties to be taken. There’s a bunch of predetermined plot points and no sense of real progression, and she’s a puppet being strung along on strings. There’s no freedom to be found in that, it’s just another cage.

But she’s not fully awake yet…! The darkness is trying to lure her away. She needs one last big push! So what should we do? GIVE HER A DOSE OF REALITY :)) The thing is, a lot of the constructs of her dream pull from her fantasies and daydreams, but it also pulls from her naive expectations of living among the humans would be like (aaaaaall the way back from when she was still an ordinary bird). Then she took on the form of a girl and came to NRC… and, uh… those dreams of hers got shattered real quick. She learned about all the imperfect aspects of humans—and though it’s not what she envisioned, she’s fascinated by it all the same. So… The dream team has to remind Miss Raven about how terrible everyone and everything can be!! It’s the only way to wake her! (Maybe have Jade go in masquerading as a “prince” and then he intentionally acts like an asshole to mess with her fantasy www)

Speaking of J word!! I joked to some irls that she would just be a doe-eyed raven’s head on a human girl’s body. And, well…

… Yeah, that checks out 😂 (Credit for the doodle goes to @anbaisai!)

“Ah, yes, Miss Raven… Poor, small, helpless, pathetic, eager-to-please Miss Raven, so wide-eyes and trusting, fufufu.” — Jade To quote a friend, “He’d put her in a small birdcage and shake her around until she cries.”

It would be funny if dream!Raven spoke entirely in screeches and caws and only Jade can understand her. Then he keeps mistranslating what she’s saying to everyone else and they just… believe him. Like dream!Azul and dream!Floyd, dream!Raven would be very cowardly, prone to tears, and reliant on Jade. She’d follow him around like a baby chick that imprinted on the first thing it saw after hatching.

[chartreuseian]

Hi! :) For the fake fic ask:

🐝: One Moment in the Cascade of Time

Ahh! This is a good one 😁😁😁

(I'm very bad at summaries though - normally I just pick a quote from the story itself, so bear with me)

Every day, a thousand tiny moments happen. Each moment ripples out, touching others, shaping the future with the echoes of the past. Each moment carries with it the potential to become more, to offer a new set of moments to be discovered: a future, yet unwritten.

(In my head it's a series of 'what if' moments - like, what if Helen hadn't injected the blood? What if one of them died in the experiment? What if James had proposed? What if Helen had refused John's offer? What if she hadn't frozen Ashley? What if she hadn't told Nikola to disappear? What if she hadn't run into James during her time travel fun?)

[constelationprize]

1 3 and 4 for the ask game!! - maridayurno

Thank you @dayurno for the questions and giving me a reason to look away from AutoCad becuase college was driving me insane. Anyway

1. last sentence you wrote

Alright, thing is, last thing I wrote was an edit in the middle of a chapter, so can't be really sure. However, I THINK it might have been this one (technically 3 but it was the middle one so it makes no sense without a bit of context):

When Aaron's door closes, Andrew says, eyes still on his book:

"That was just strike three."

3. how do you feel about your current wip

I have like. Five current wips. But going for the one I used to answer the previous questions: it is my baby, dead men walking. It's the fic that made me truly come back into the fandom (I was just gonna lurk betaing Nani @queer-lovebot otherwise), and that prompted me to reread the books last year. I am so proud of everything I have planned for it, and I think every single sentence I write on it is the smartest bestest thing ever written, unless I get something so factually wrong I spend five months away from it in shame of having to go back and correct like half of a 3k pov. In my defense, it HAD been five years, how the fuck was I supposed to remember that the Twinyards backstory had this many details.

Anyone it's going to be so over for you guys once this drops in uuuuuh 8-24 months at least.

Here are some Nani reactions to the (now finally fucking finished I hope) prologue the quote was from, that made me feel very evil and very proud:

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet

Again, it's gonna be hard picking just one, but… The unwritten apple of my eye right now is nowhere girls, a Dan/Renee AU that came to be because I read Dan's EC and the potential was so blinding my dick exploded. Anyway, it's a no-Exy world, so they were soccer rivals in school instead and didn't manage to get any scholarships, and it's kind of a bad ending for them both in the sense they don't have the Foxes as that groudind presence. Dan is juggling community college, her strip club job and also occasional shifts at a diner. Renee is feeling kind of lost after graduation, and maybe sort of joins an underground fight club as a way to manage her anger. Dan recognizes her at the diner and tries to avoid her, up until Renee starts showing up with bruises, and trying to intervene leads to Renee inviting her to the fight club. Homoeroticism ensues. Seth and Allison run rival betting rings. Matt is also going to show up eventually.

The title was inspired by this part of the Dan EC:

I have listened to brutal by Olivia Rodrigo and thought about Them like daily ever since I came up with the idea.

I also included the first sentence to this in that challenge a few weeks back, but I'll tell you a trade secret: I made that one up on the spot because I thought the number of actual wips I had started was kinda sad and I wanted to do it anyway. Really liked it though, so it's staying :)

[chocomd]

for the fic writer ask game: 4, 30, 59, 88?

Thanks for the ask, northern!

4. what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

The plot idea I've had for the longest is probably the one where Katara gets jealous of Aang and Zuko's work bromance and she and Zuko end up literally fighting over Aang. I haven't written it yet because I need a certain kind of inspiration and mood for that kind of story. And no, I don't experience deep existential dread because it remains unwritten...if I write it, then I write it. If I don't, then I don't😌

30. most inspirational quote you’ve ever read or heard that’s still important to you.

Jane Austen's description of her character, Emma, as "a heroine whom no one but myself will much like." Even Jane Austen sometimes felt unsure that anyone but herself would like her stories, and that makes me feel less alone in how I feel about my own stories 😂

59. where is the most dangerous place that you’ve read fic?

Does reading fic in the back row of seats in a minivan near young children who might interrupt my concentration at any moment count?

88. if you could have another author write your wip for you (bc we all dream of this occasionally), who would it be?

Hmmm....probably @itsmoonpeaches for the court intrigue fic that involves framing Aang for murder. Mostly because this type of fic is up her alley, and I'm just as happy to read this kind of fic as I am to write it.

Send me an ask from the fanfic writer ask game!

[aestheticvoyage2023]

Day 5: Thursday Jan 5, 2023 - “Day In Court”

75 days ago a whole lot of negative energy came to a brunt front; rock bottom I suppose you might call it - I certainly have.  How to describe it other than to say you’re only as sick as your secrets.  Anxiety riddled, 2022 included a lot of hard miles and a lot of wear and tear; a lot of disconnect and incongruence.  

For years had people tell me (less and less lately) that I need to write a book.  I had a certain life-force once, and the “pages” and rhythm of my life filled up with that burn.   But I always claimed, that I wouldn’t know what that story would be about, yet.  I still don’t, but now I maybe see a little bit clearly where the plot was ultimately going to go.  The conflict.  Maybe the resolution.  I am still developing it I guess.  But I am learning a lot from this season, and that previous one.  These past 75 days have been a difficult teacher. And to find out, that was all just the introduction.  But I am still a wannabe wannabe.  Underneath it all - the struggle, the scramble, the weight - I wannabe good.  I wannabe whole.  I wannabe living a greater story.  75 days ago I got the proverbial record screeching head fake from the universe. I had a good attitude about it, and re-found some long forgotten positivity.  Where I could have wilted and spun off into a tragedy, I was given grace and support and time.   I landed.  If the meaning in life is to find meaning in life, and what I have so desperately sought is still out there somewhere, then all of this must have a purpose.   And if I can hang on to that perspective, I can find my way out.  Amazing perspective to find that it had all happened for me and not to me (steady hands were obviously helpful in that).   If I was going to find my way out it was going to take a lot of grace for my self.   Learning to say I am sorry.  Maybe re-thinking everything that I had put together up to this point.  Maybe at 41, now, the real story was set to begin, or at least start to pull together and make sense.  Ive got work to do.  There aren’t a lot of easy days.   I have some unwritten scars, in as much as Ive tried to polish this plot.   But I am doing the work now.  Accountability, amends, action.   And maybe through that, I can find the answers about what this story is really supposed to be about.  Maybe through exploring and learning and confronting my self, honestly, I can be better, whole.

I suppose its why, on the walk to the court this morning this little mural jumped out to me, painted on a wall, just outside the entrance.  I stood in front of it and contemplated it, decided it was a fitting photo-of-the-day for this hard day, where I had to show up and face my consequences for .....  all of it the last five years, for al the slipping and not doing something different sooner.  I tried to think of something clever for what this snake represents, and ultimately decided that I wasn’t sure yet and that, like everything else, that was ok.  I know it means something beautiful and meaningful, those spirals. I am not supposed to know yet.  That I have to do the work first.  But I know at the minimum, that the snake here isn’t out to get me.  This all happened for me and not to me.  So I take my lumps now, as damn hard as it is in hopes that it makes for a better story.  I now have some conflict to overcome.  I have already wasted too many dawns on this.  I only have so much time yet.  Time to take my good days back and start standing up for my self, turning the venom into butterflies and blossoms.     Maybe through exploring and learning and confronting the snake, honestly, I can be better, whole.

Song: Zach Bryan - Dawns (ft Maggie Rogers)

Quote: “In the end, we'll all become stories.” ― Margaret Atwood

[write-less-more]

"No amount of birthday candles, 11:11's, or shooting stars have the power to wish all your sorrows away."

- quotes from stories yet unwritten #34 // r.a.

[wooahaes]

lean on me

pairing: non-idol!vernon x fem!reader [kept vague]

prompt: uh. slight comfort for me tbh.

word count: 4.2k~

warnings: reader is pretty much outright stated to be a victim of parental abuse, but it’s left vague as hell what her parents did. some anxiety about meeting his parents for the first time (but the actual meeting is completely unwritten). one alluded to fight that gets resolved. long distance struggles. also some allusions to sex as a topic in general (both in the beginning and later a comment abt seungkwan being willing to leave the apartment for a bit if they wanna bone). minimal editing (like less than usual sdfkhdsf)

daisy’s notes: oh to have a person who’s okay with taking things slowly...... and also comforting my insecure ass when i’m scared of being hated by the other person’s family...

There were certain things that people said whenever the topic of long distance relationships came up, and... honestly, you were pretty damn sure you’d heard most of them, if not all of them. The bullshit “long distance doesn’t work,” the “it’s a lot of hard work,” sometimes the “but how does the sex work?” (which you’d always respond with a sharp “none of your fucking business, buddy.”)... there were a lot of things people couldn’t wrap their head around when you told them that your boyfriend was in a completely different country than you. To the people who claimed they never worked, you liked quoting the fact that you’d been dating Vernon for almost a year as a way to shut most people up. To the “hard work” thing, you admitted that you knew that, because it was. The question of how you knew that he was himself and not some weirdo came from your story: you met him in person.

See, you studied abroad for a semester. You met Seungkwan, who became one of your fast friends, and he was the one responsible for introducing you to Vernon. Neither of you had felt anything at first, which was probably surprising to some people. He was always Seungkwan’s cute friend (like most of Seungkwan’s friends) who remembered your boba order and would always swing by with snacks for when you were studying. He remembered your favorites, too. You always thought he was sweet, and you liked the way his eyes lit up whenever you came by with a new recipe to try out because you always wanted him to taste-test for you. Looking back on it, you kind of had to wonder why the two of you didn’t get together sooner. Maybe it just wasn’t the right time yet. He was your friend until you went back home. The two of you made an effort to keep in touch, sometimes resulting in telling the other to “go to bed, loser,” with a promise to talk more later.

Honestly, if it weren’t for your friends and his... the two of you probably would have never gotten together. Your little movie “hangouts” were common enough on the weekends neither of you had to work, the two of you send pictures of things that reminded you of the other, you were... kind of hardcore flirting, to be honest--but neither of you were ready to actually talk about it. You heard that long distance rarely worked, if ever, and that it was hard. If it weren’t for your friends sitting you down and encouraging you to just sit and talk to Vernon honestly about what the two of you want (and his friends doing the same--he later told you it felt like he was getting scolded by, like, five different older brothers because all of them individually heard from Seungkwan that he’d been pining for you), you wouldn’t have done it. So the two of you made time for a video call, and you figured out what you wanted.

Which, in the end, was each other. If things didn’t work out romantically, it didn’t mean you had to stop being friends--or that you couldn’t try again later down the road, when things were easier. You weren’t against the idea of moving to be with him, if you were honest, but that would take time and effort and you’d need to dedicate a lot into doing it. Yet it had been ten months since that talk, and the two of you were still going strong. The power of late night/early morning conversations and calls when neither of you were busy with work, and movie nights to check out whatever the two of you had been wanting to watch. It definitely made your bond stronger. Plus, you liked to think that the friendship leading up to it helped solidify your presence in each other’s lives. You still wanted to kiss his stupid cute face silly, sure, but that was pinned onto a hopeful “someday” when the two of you met in person again.

You’d already met his sister around five months in. He’d sent you a screenshot one night of her texts asking when you were going to come to visit in person, the following texts cut short. He later confessed to you that she was glad he’d found someone he was happy with.

can you call right now? it’s really important. i just want to hear your voice.

When you gave him the go-ahead, on your way home from work in a very quiet bus, he called you barely a second later.

“I know I should say it to your face,” he said, “but I just needed to tell you that I love you. You don’t have to say it back yet. Just... I love you.”

That’d been the first time either of you said it. The cheesy, loose “love you”s had come before, but there was something... intimate about putting that “I” in front of it. You couldn’t say it back--not yet--and he never held that against you. That was part of the reason you realized you loved him, too.

So you decided to be honest with him a few days later. You asked how serious the two of you were, he said he liked to think you both were pretty serious, and you told him outright that you agreed but he’d never meet your parents. He’d been confused (something you’d never blame him for), and you told him that you wanted him in your life but that he’d never meet your family. It honestly pissed him off, and he pushed a little too much. You dodged the subject every single time he brought it up in the past about how your parents were doing, only sticking to a vague lie that they were “well,” and he didn’t want to put pressure on you but--were you serious about him or not?

You ended up hanging up then and there and telling him that you’d talk to him tomorrow. When he tried to prod you to call him back, to talk this out, you told him you needed the time to get everything together first. The space between it all wasn’t just for him to calm down and clear his head, but for you to build some confidence because you needed to be completely honest if he was going to stay in your life. You’d never forget the way he told you that you didn’t have to say anything you weren’t ready to say during that next call, that if you weren’t introducing him to your family then you must have a reason. He was upset in the moment, but that didn’t justify the way he’d gotten angry with you.

You told him you cut them out the moment you were financially stable enough to, and that he was never going to meet your family because you’d never let them hurt him or any person you cared about. The only thing either of you had to apologize for after that conversation was for hurting each other. He was justified in getting upset, even if he didn’t have all the facts, because hearing something like that would hurt. You were justified in not telling him your “tragic backstory” (as you put it, trying to break the tension a bit) because it was a hard conversation to have with someone.

It only served to make your relationship stronger in the end.

You saved up to fly out to see him. Both of you did, actually--he finished getting his certificate in programming and he’d moved onto a better back-end job that paid so much better than his old job making boba tea. He promised you that he’d greet you with one in hand the day you came to see him. Vernon promised to introduce you to a few of them, too, since they turned out to be good friends who watched out for him--especially someone named Seungcheol. You heard plenty of stories about how he felt like an older brother to him.  You joked that you’d have to tell the others he said that.

Which, admittedly, set him off on a really long ramble about how many people in his and Seungkwan’s friend circle knew each other. It was like serendipitous realizing how connected it all felt. Like fate. You’d meet them, too, when you came out there.

But tickets abroad were expensive as hell, and both of you knew that. The trip kept getting set back. The first time, the two of you tried to spring for that summer. Your laptop was slowly dying out, and you put aside money for that instead. Then again the two of you talked about maybe figuring out something for September, and then again in October. Every single time, it felt like your plans fell through. You said that maybe you could work something out and come visit him in February for his birthday.

Then he called you mid-November and told you he had your Christmas present all figured out and he was going to give it to you right then and there. He told you to check your email, and you saw the flight receipt.

“Vernon, you didn’t.”

“Listen... My parents kinda pitched in?” He leaned back in bed, watching your face. “I know we’ve talked about it before, but they really want to meet you... And they really, really don’t want to do it through a screen unless they have to.”

You told him a few months ago that meeting his sister through video call was easy. Meeting his parents was infinitely harder. What if they hated you? He hit you back with the “c’mon, baby, no one could hate you,” before saying that he genuinely thought you’d get along with them great. They knew how much he loved you. If they didn’t, they definitely would soon enough.

“It’s been almost a year,” he said. “Listen, I tried to go to you,” he frowned. “Do you hate it?”

“You just gave me a ticket to go see your stupid face,” you buried your face in your hands, already feeling the tears welling up. “I love you. I just...” You took a deep breath. “This is a lot to process. Give me a moment, yeah?”

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” he said. “Take all the time you need, baby.”

You waited until he closed his bedroom door behind him to finally let go, already crying. Out of joy, because you wanted to see him. Out of stress, too, because meeting his parents was... terrifying. And in person? For the first time? They wanted to meet you so badly they were willing to pitch in? Vernon only had good stories to tell about his parents and his sister, and you thought she was lovely when you met (a little funny, too--you liked her spunk when she told you that he was lucky to have her as a sister). This wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

When he came back, you told him you’d do it.

“Are you sure?” He frowned. “I’m pretty sure I can cancel--”

“No, I want to do it,” you said. “I wanna meet them, too.”

He smiled at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I mean... We’re serious, y’know? It was going to happen sooner or later.”

You trusted him, and you hoped that he got that message loud and clear.

Every single day leading up to your flight was a countdown. Seungkwan sent you a picture of a calendar Vernon had bought and hung up, physically marking off days. You called him cheesy. He told you that he was only gonna get cheesier when he saw you again. The two of you had been on video call the night before your flight as he watched you pack away everything. In less than forty-eight hours, you’d be in his arms.

“You know I’m gonna cry, right?” He said, cross-legged on his bed with a bowl of cereal in his hands. “Like. Baby, I’m gonna cry so hard when I see you.”

Three weeks with him. You were still kinda floored he saved up so much. You did the conversions and the round-trip ticket was over four thousand for you. Between rent and food and everything else... How much did his family pitch in? The guilt was going to rest with you for a while, but you’d try to push it aside.

“We’re gonna both be crying, dummy,” you hummed. “Is Seungkwan driving?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he said, “there’s no way I’m gonna be able to drive. He doesn’t mind.”

You folded a shirt, tucking it into your bag. “I owe him.”

“Don’t.” You could hear the sound of his spoon hit the edge of the bowl. “He wants to see you again, too. Just... Not as much as I do.”

You’d hope so. But you just smiled to yourself. “You know... I have to change flights four times. But it’s worth it.”

“Get one of those travel pillows,” he told you. “I’ll send you the money--”

“I can buy a travel pillow, you dork,” you rolled your eyes. “I’ve already cleared everything with my bank, by the way. You’re not spoiling me this entire trip.”

“That’s what you think.”

Loser. But he was your loser. “I’m-”

“We,” he started, “are buying you dinner your first night here. Seungkwan wouldn’t let me treat all of us, and I didn’t want him to buy all of it.”

“You should have!” You could hear Seungkwan call out from the other room. The door creaked open a moment later, and Seungkwan was in frame. “He already helped buy you a ticket. I can buy us dinner. Tell your boyfriend to be reasonable.”

You giggled, pulling out your good jacket. It cost a pretty penny, but the thing was sturdy and warm and Vernon had already warned you about the snow. “Hi, Seungkwan,” you said. “Please steal his wallet from him.” 

“Travel safely,” he told you. “I’ll never hear the end of it if you don’t. He was already moping about how he wished he could afford first class because he wanted you to be comfortable--”

Seungkwan was shoved away by Vernon, who turned back to you. “Because you do.” He set down his bowl. “I’ve gotta shower before work, but I’ll see you soon, right?”

You smiled to yourself. “Yeah,” you said. “I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

“Love you more,” he said. He had that sappy, love-struck smile on his face again. You wouldn’t trade it for anything else. “Sleep well, baby. Goodnight.”

Sleeping came easier to you than you thought. Packing and getting everything in order was a hassle anyway, especially because you had roped a friend into driving you to the airport at two in the morning.

Four flights were... more than just a hassle. You forgot to get the pillow and your neck was beyond sore by the end of it. Two domestic flights, one international that left you in Tokyo for not even an hour, and eventually you landed in Seoul. Throughout every single step, you left messages to Vernon along with pictures of you waiting for each flight. The last one, sent around five in the evening for them, was a picture of Vernon holding up your favorite boba order with Seungkwan a few steps ahead as they returned to the car. 

You gathered your carry-on luggage and made your way through the terminal, dressed as cozily as you could be. You saw Vernon and Seungkwan before either of them saw you, and you had to bite back the urge to drop your bags and run. To hug him as tight as you could and never let him go. Instead, you just smiled and curled your fingers as tightly as you could around your bag.

Vernon, on the other hand, saw you and immediately shoved the boba into Seungkwan’s hand as he took off running to meet you halfway. Before you could even say anything, he wrapped you into his arms and squeezed you as tight as he could, that giddiness having taken over completely. If you ever doubted that Vernon loved you, it disappeared the moment he laid eyes on you. He was already crying, mumbling incoherently about how he could barely sleep last night knowing that you were on your way to him. You finally let go of your bag, hugging him tight back as you buried your face into his hoodie to hide your tears. It was just as sappy as you expected it to be, even when he handed you that damn cup of boba with a forced smile. Like he wasn’t just sobbing on you about how he dreamed of being able to hold you.

The three of you returned to their apartment soon enough. You’d tried to spring for a hotel or rent an apartment, but both Seungkwan and Vernon said that you should just save your money (to spoil Vernon, in Seungkwan’s words) and stay with them. If either of you wanted alone time, Seungkwan promised he could make himself scarce (and maybe you’d consider that offer later, after you met your boyfriend’s parents because there was no way you’d be able to relax enough beforehand). He carried your bag for you, hand in your own as Seungkwan opened the door ahead of you.

The moment you made it to Vernon’s bed, you crashed for a nap before dinner. Just a small one, because none of the sleep you managed to get was worth anything. He curled up next to you, pulling back into his arms and holding you tight.

“Hey,” he said before you could start to drift off. “I love you.”

It was different hearing it in person. You already knew that you’d never want to hear it any other way. “I love you, too.”

“Can I kiss you?” He asked quietly. “I... I really don’t think I can wait any longer.”

You didn’t, either. So you kissed him, and he smiled against your lips. When you broke away, he pulled you back into his chest and told you to go ahead and sleep. He’d be right there when you woke up. 

Dinner with him and Seungkwan went well. In a sense, it felt like you’d never left. That the three of you were just grabbing dinner again one night after classes, except this time Vernon kept giving you these cute smiles like he still couldn’t believe you were right there. If it annoyed Seungkwan in any way to third-wheel, he said nothing about it. Both of you had toned down any PDA during dinner, and things worked out fine. You changed in the bathroom, getting ready for the night before returning to see your boyfriend already dressed and ready for bed. He just watched you, that same fond look in his eyes as you were only putting your things away. He told you he’d cleared space in his closet for you. You’d hang things up properly after you slept.

“So?” He asked, propping himself up onto his side. “How does it feel?”

You looked back at him. “Which part?”

“Being here.” He smiled at you. “With me. Meeting my parents soon.”

That last part made your smile fall a little.

“Talk to me,” he said. “I know you’re scared.”

“It’s not that I’m scared,” you sat down on his bed. “I’m just... overthinking it again. I know you said they’d love me, but what if they don’t?”

“They will.” He reached out, gently tugging you to move in closer. “They know I love you. You’ll have stuff in common with mom, at least. Don’t worry about it,” he pressed a peck onto your knuckles. “I’ll be right there with you.”

“You aren’t nervous?”

“Should I be?” He smiled, but then it fell. “I mean... Yeah. I’m nervous,” he played with your fingers, “like... you’re meeting my parents. I thought we were serious, but that kinda makes it a little realer, y’know? I mean... I think it means we’ve gotta start talking about what comes next.”

“About me moving here?”

“Do you want to?” He paused. “Let’s not talk about that tonight. I know it’s a lot.”

It was. You laid down next to him. “Do they know?”

“About your family?” He asked quietly. “Are you gonna be mad if I say kind-of?”

“Vernon...” You frowned. “What did you tell them?”

“I didn’t tell them anything specific,” he said. “It’s not my thing to tell. But mom kinda asked about whether they would be meeting future in-laws, and... I dunno, I kinda had to tell them that you cut contact and had really good reasons to.”

You watched him carefully. He wouldn’t lie about this, but... “That’s all?”

“I promise,” he said. “I wouldn’t just tell them everything. I know it was really hard for you to tell me that stuff...” He traced a finger down your palm. “I mean. I told them you’re really nervous, but that’s it, I swear. They just know not to bring up any stuff about future in-laws.”

After a moment, it hit you. “Does that mean you wanna marry me?”

“Maybe,” he smiled at you. “I mean... If you really wanna move over here, us getting married someday could help...”

“Aw, Vernon,” you giggled. “Does that mean you like like me?”

There was that gummy smile you loved. “Yeah,” he said. “I like like you a whole lot. Did you think I didn’t?”

“I dunno,” you hummed. “The plane ticket wasn’t enough...”

“How about a ring?”

You jerked back at that. “What?”

“Nononono--” He said. “Not like that. I mean. Kind of like that, but not like that.” He took your hand into his. “So, like... I told you about couple rings, right? The whole... “you celebrate a hundred days by exchanging rings” sort of deal? It kinda means you’re serious.”

“Are we?” You teased. “So it’s like... serious, but not “wedding really soon” serious.”

“I mean, if you wanna call it that,” he stretched out a leg, tangling it with your own. “I just thought it could be kinda cute if we went and picked them out tomorrow. So when you go back... You can think of me when you see it.”

You knew he’d be sappy. “You really want to?”

“Yeah,” he had slowly been moving in closer. “I mean... There’s some really cheesy stuff about dating culture here, but I kinda like this one. If you’re not into it, we don’t have to--”

“I like it.” You shifted a little closer. “Are your parents going to say something if they notice them?”

He went quiet. “My sister might. But that’ll be more towards me than you,” he tugged you closer. “Listen... I wouldn’t have talked to my family about you if I didn’t think they’d love you. They know I’m serious about you,” he gently cupped your face, “and they know I love you a lot. I’m gonna be right there beside you the entire time.”

“It’s just...” You took a deep breath, fighting back tears. “I dunno. It feels like... my own parents couldn’t love me, so how can someone else’s?”

“Your parents were shit, baby,” he said. “You told me what they’ve done to you. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a part of the family.” Vernon looked into your eyes, smiling. “Alright? The only thing that might happen is they might love you too much and never let you leave.”

He knew how to make you smile. You settled on teasing him again, “So you want me to leave?”

Your boyfriend had basically been pulling you into his embrace like a koala and you were teasing him like that. “I want,” he said, leaving you in suspense for a  moment, “to get a cat together.”

“Babe--”

“Just think about it,” he said. “Like... We could go pick out a cat to adopt. It’d be like our child.”

You were thinking about it.

“And,” he said, “they make little onesies for cats...”

“Vernon--”

“We could pull a really funny prank on my friends about a baby reveal...”

“Hansol.”

“And it’d be really cute,” he said. “Like. I promise, it’d be really cute. Do you wanna get a cat with me?”

You wanted a life with this idiot and he already knew that marriage was on the table. “Yes, dummy,” you said, “I wanna get a cat with you.”

He smiled. “It’s cuter when you say it in person.”

“What? “Dummy”?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m your dummy,” he chuckled. He snuggled you into his chest, almost like you were becoming his own personal teddy bear. You knew for a fact this was not how Vernon fell asleep--enough late night calls where he passed out proved that to you. He shut his eyes, though, and kept an arm securely around you, your head pressed against his chest so you could hear his heart beating. “I’m yours,” he said out loud, like it was a promise to you.

You shut your eyes, listening to the steady beat. “Yeah,” you mumbled. “I’m yours, too, dummy. I love you.”

Maybe taking the big steps wouldn’t be so scary after all.

[luxaofhesperides]

stories as a vessel for human history: an essay by lee jihye

In writing an essay for her history class, one of the first ones she's taking in university, Lee Jihye can't help but feel a little too much on the topic.

Or: You are Lee Jihye and you are trying to be a good student, but you're not sure you know how to be good, much less a student when the last time you were a student you—

also on ao3.

. . .

 Topic: Human history passed down via stories.

     …much has already been discussed about written history through personal diaries and letters. Documents that have survived from the Roman Empire are, perhaps, among the best examples, containing a glimpse into the author’s life, the culture of the time, and the language used. Writings from the Roman Empire also include quotes from plays that have been lost to time and are only known for those few remaining lines. Many works of the Ancient Greeks also survive this way.  

     There are many written documents that survive to the modern day and have been preserved physically and digitally through copying and digital archiving. What is less discussed are living stories. Stories and accounts of different periods of history passed down through people. An oral history that is shared through speaking and art. Nontraditional stories include cave paintings, preserved human footprints from early humans, embroidery and other craft arts passed down through families and sold in estate sales.  

     Pieces of the lives people have lead left behind to be found and  

 You sigh, leaning back in your chair. This is still just the introduction of your essay and it’s taken you a full hour to write. It’s not even done yet.

 University is horrible. It’s necessary for you to get a decent job in whatever field you want—something you’ll figure out later—but that doesn’t mean you enjoy it. Sure some of the offered classes are cool at all, but as a first year, all you can do is take the required classes and that includes history.

 It’s honestly shocking that you even got this far. Two years ago, you wouldn’t have ever thought about being in a school setting again, too focused on survival and nightmares and fear, but now you’re here. Trying to write a paper at midnight because it’s due in two days. Or tomorrow. Whatever.

 At least being part of the group that helped save the world gets you in without much of a fuss. There’s no way you would have made it in any other way, considering you never finished high school.

 Not that it would have changed much; you were never a good student.

 You don’t actually remember much about high school, now that you think about it. There are vague memories: walking down the hallway, getting lunch, sneaking out of gym class. All of it’s overshadowed by—

 Her pulse under your hands. You can feel it fluttering against your palms. It’s a sign of desperation, of fear, of no no don’t please I want to live but she smiled. She smiled at you and opened her mouth to

     provide an insight to what life was like in their time. We can piece together their story with the fragments they leave behind. We can learn what they wanted to say and pass that down, becoming another part of the journey of history.  

     A notable example of this unwritten history is fairytales. Stories told to children to impart lessons and warnings so that they are better prepared to survive in the world. Though many of these did eventually become written down, not all did. And if they did, different versions of the same story suggest that these stories were passed through word of mouth, changing with each person based on memory and understandability of the story. There has even been speculation the the fairytales penned by the Grimm Brothers were not original, but were instead folk tales that were passed down until they wrote those stories into a book.  

     These stories can also provide us knowledge of the time and culture they originated in. Despite being fictional, they are rooted in reality where  

 death had come for everyone, that day. Everyone but you. Alone, you had to step over their corpses, stumble out of that school, wondering if you really did survive. Maybe your corpse just hadn’t realized it yet, and when you finally did, you would drop dead and never feel so much pain again.

 But you kept going. You kept walking, blind, until the cries of monsters shook you out of your dissociative haze. From then on it was a mad scramble to survive when you had already done too much surviving. It was a man with a scowl and a black coat handing you a sword and dragging you to a train station. It was monster after monster and scared, desperate people looking to you for help because you were the only one who kept coming back alive.

 That’s a story too, but it’s not one anyone wants to talk about.

     If we go even farther back, we can look to cave paintings to understand their stories. Historians have offered theory after theory about what each could mean, why it was drawn, what purpose it serves. What most are forgetting are the basic facts: even before humans had permanent settlements and governments and written language, they had art. They created different colors, used that pigment to draw animals and people and maps, communicated with images.  

     Those walls say: humans were here. We were here and we saw the world. This is what was in it.  

     Those walls say: these hand prints are our children, who we held up because humans have been giving their kids paint and messy hands for thousands of years. These hand prints are proof of multiple people painting in a cave, sharing color, being together. This is a history of togetherness that has never left  

 alone you can’t help but think of all the ways things could be different if your roles were reversed. Would you have done that to her? Made her place her hands on your throat, made her let go of your limp and still body?

 She would have done better. Been more levelheaded, more thoughtful, more composed. Although you can’t image her getting along with Lee Gilyoung well, not with her fear of insects.

 You wonder if anyone else would have loved her as much as you did.

 You’ll never know. You can’t change the fact that you killed her.

 You’ll never change that fact that her story is only known through you. That she is only known for a murder broadcasted as both a warning and an inevitability.

 No one could escape it in the Star Stream. Even the constellations found their place in the sky with blood on their hands. There was never any other way.

     Investigating history through these nontraditional means allows us to see connections across time and culture. Humans have always been human; much of our humor stay the same. Graffiti in Pompeii contain crude jokes, including a “Your Mom” joke, references to popular culture at the time (the Aeneid), and declarations of relationships that, in the modern world, would be similar to carving names and hearts into wood.  

     Despite the distance between us and our ancestors, our defining characteristic of  

 being a crybaby. Many of your tears had been caused by stress and fear and grief, because those are the emotions that the scenarios brought out the most. Kim Dokja’s deaths have made you cry. But so has the act of Yoo Joonghyuk carrying out to safety when you were too injured to move.

 Sometimes you wonder if you had been cursed to feel everything just a little too much. To feel it endlessly.

 Even now, you live in a world where Na Bori is still dead by your hand and Kim Dokja won’t wake up and the Star Stream is gone but nothing has been fixed.

 Not really, anyways.

 In all honesty, you’re not sure you know to live in the world anymore. A world without the Star Stream, a world at peace, a normal world.

 You’re trying, but it feels like playing pretend. What’s normal is going to college and studying and figuring out what career you want. But you never really thought you’d have any of that, and now that it’s being handed to you, it feels like a joke with no punchline.

 You wish Kim Dokja would wake up. Surely he’d know what to say to help you figure out what to do next, how to

     create textiles and houses and families. These are also unconventional histories; they are deeply personal and rooted more in the context of family than of time. Consider a technique for creating something that only one family knows, and thus is passed down from generation to generation. Consider the recipe book of a great-great-great-great grandmother and how ingredients have changed so much it’s impossible to accurately recreate any of the foods listed. Consider the way names are passed down alongside material objects.  

     Consider the stories we keep passing down, the ones that have stayed with us since our ancestors gathered around a fire and  

 lied to her about how her story ends.

 That’s not to say Kim Dokja is a bad liar. He’s too good at it, actually. But once you got to know him better, it was easy to see the tells, to hear it in his voice.

 He promised you a happy ending then told you to leave him behind when your camp was attacked. He promised that he would be fine, but that was a lie too. You were prepared to die with him, right then and there.

 That was part of his plan, too.

 It got the attention of the forgotten people of the scenario, and they taught you so much about what stories are. About why they’re important. About why they’re alive.

 You wonder what happened to them, those reincarnators, after the Final Wall fell and the Star Stream was destroyed. You wonder if anyone remembers them, gave them

     gravestones depicting beloved children taken too soon, clay tablets stamped with baby footprints paired with names, notches in a wooden beam to track the height of children we’ll never know; all this is history. All this is a story that says in the same voice: we do this because we love each other enough to make a physical memory.  

     History is a collection of stories. Each story is a remnant of someone declaring “I was here. I was not alone. This is the world I live in.”  

     There is no other way history can be passed down. There’s a reason for this, for all the stories and words and artifacts: we don’t want to forget each other.  

 You push your laptop away from you, letting out a breath. All that’s left is a page for sources and to add in footnotes to cite your research, then editing and restructuring and...

 You pick up your phone to check your notifications. There is no phone charm on it.

 It hurt too much, seeing it dangle from your phone as if nothing had changed at all. As if she might walk into a classroom one day and playfully push you until there was enough space for her to sit, for the two of you to share a chair. As if you’re back in Taepung and no one is dead except the girl you used to be.

 Instead, you keep her charm tucked safely in your pocket, your palm, your wallet. Anywhere you can hold it to always bring a memento of her with you.

 You can’t forget.

 You won’t.

 This is your story: to hold onto your past so your ghosts never leave you. It starts and ends with your hands.

[annisasarah]

Getting Ready for a PhD Research Program

(repost from my old blog, Oct 2021)

Hi! I am Annisa Sarah, a PhD student from the University of Stavanger. I’ve started my PhD in mid-July 2021, and next week will mark my third month of working here.

I want to dedicate this post to those of you that *finally* received an offer after tens of European PhD applications. What now? How to prepare for your PhD?

Please note that PhD programs in different continents, different countries, will TOTALLY have a different approach. PhD in most of Asians countries requires you to take courses, and take the candidacy exam. A PhD in the US requires you to take classes and lab for the first two years (and the candidacy exam after that). Yet, most of PhD in Europeans countries are research only (some universities ask you to do teaching or undergraduate/master thesis supervision, though). As I am taking my PhD in Norway, the program is exclusively in doing research: 3 years of research, with some months extension if you take any teaching assistantship or supervise master theses.

now I want to share some tips to loosen your stress and anxiety prior to starting your PhD program:

1. Seek for Some Advices

This book is such a holy book for me: ”The Unwritten Rules of PhD Research” by Gordon Rugg and Marian Petre (I read the. 3rd edition by the way)

It feels like you have an unofficial advisor telling you how to work on each phase: literature study, managing your references, how to set expectations between you and your supervisors, how to organize your work, how to write a paper, how to publish it, how to act during conferences, and so on! There is so many self-help PhD books, but this is the one and only I feel suitable for PhD research student.

how I use this book:

read it, taking important notes and try to implement it. Whenever you are IN the stage (e.g., start doing literature survey or organizing the work), you may need to visit the chapter and re-read all the tips. I write some nice quotes from the book, and put them on my cubical, like:

“do a good work, and tell a good story”

2. Try many Different Work Systems, Find out Which System that is Most Suitable for You

trying to catch-up some materials after my baby sleeps

The most challenging part of PhD for me is how to independently organize all the works: How to retain the knowledge you have gained from reading tens of papers? How to manage your time efficiently? Are you a morning person or a night owl? You need to find your system as soon as possible. Try different systems of organizing literature, note-taking, etc

I find some tips from here:

how to read scientific paper: How to read a scientific paper - Notes from the physics lab

digital note-taking: Doing a literature review using digital tools (with Notion template) (notesfromthephysicslab.com)

3. Blog-walking to Read Other’s Experiences in doing Their PhD

Knowing how others can survive the PhD, helps me in managing my stress. Stressing about your PhD is nice in a way. It means you care about it. Addressing all the risks that you might face by reading other experiences. Example of how to managing the risk and mitigation: Risk Management of a PhD student – PAN-EUROPEAN TRAINING, RESEARCH AND EDUCATION NETWORK ON ELECTROMAGNETIC RISK MANAGEMENT (etn-peter.eu)

other blogs (or vlogs also could do):

PhD Pitfalls - (Some of) the Things That Actually Do Go Wrong | FindAPhD.com

Dr Lucy Kissick - The PhDiaries - YouTube

4. Write a Daily Journal

Write what you did on that day (what you've learned, what paper you've downloaded that day) so you know how you're progressing each day, each week. It gives you a sign of whether you are too slow or too fast, and you can think about strategies to improve your work. Remember, during your PhD, you only work with yourself, so you need to manage your own work. It is pretty easy to be distracted, and you do not become aware that you are losing so much time

Good luck! remember:

Xoxo,

Sarah

[simplychaotic]

not yet

[myelocin]

The Gratitude in Endings | Miya Atsumu, You, Kuroo Tetsurou

Synopsis: What follows endings always were the most beautiful things. In this case, after Kuroo Tetsurou, came Miya Atsumu--and for you, nothing could truly be better. 

**This is the epilogue to Redefining You (Part 1) and  To Us, A Love Story Unwritten (Part 2)! 

Characters: Miya Atsumu, You Kuroo Tetsurou

Genre/Tags/Warnings: No warnings! Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Bestfriend!Kuroo, Reader/Atsumu, Kinda a love triangle i guess lol

WC: 2.8k+

a/n: i,,,, have not let go of this AU and will probably not let go until a long time. i’m planning on writing drabbles in this certain AU soon, but for now enjoy this epilogue!

-

You suppose happy endings is the sort of cliché you’ve been wanting to avoid this whole time. After all, you’re still only in your late twenties and even if you’ve crossed some things off of your bucket list—there were still pages you’ve yet to even flip through.

Life, to you, is a constant work in progress; all you’ve known were only beginnings but the reality is there is still never an end. From the second you opened your eyes and sucked in your first breath of air, day by day you continue to leave a mark in the world.

The stories you’ve scribbled in paper, the secrets you’ve whispered to willing ears, photographs of your claim in that snapshot of the world, and the connections you’ve made—those are the things that last and remain even after you’ve gone to cross new horizons.

Life—much like yourself will always just be a work in progress.

Whether it be the ink on your skin that’s yet to be connected to another work of art or waking up to a new morning wondering how differently Atsumu’s hair will look curled around your fingers this time.

Every day that you spent watching the sun rising and setting in his eyes never failed to leave you breathless.

-

It shouldn’t have surprised you when Atsumu adjusted himself with the beat of your life quite naturally. After reconnecting in the airport, Tetsurou didn’t even have to sit you down to talk to you about his reappearance in your life.

Literally, after Bokuto landed, he left the airport that day without you and texted you that this was your chance to go home with, as Tetsurou said in verbatim, your “long lost love.”

According to him, after showing up in your weekly dinners at Kenma with Atsumu trailing behind you—that it was all part of his plan for he was the best wing man you could ever ask for.

After that self-proclamation, you and Kenma responded to his statement by simultaneously rolling your eyes. Atsumu, beside you, was apparently polite enough to laugh. Tetsurou was quick to stride over to him, clap him on the back of the shoulder and declare, “You both suck, but at least Miya-san has enough taste to recognize my genius work.”

“Please,” Atsumu laughed and clapped Tetsurou on the shoulder, “Atsumu is just fine.” From your place in the table, you smiled at Atsumu beaming up at Tetsurou, with your best friend returning the same energy.

“I think they’ll get along.” Kenma says and you smile, feeling your heart swell.

“They will,” you reply, and in return Kenma smiles because the both of you truly believe your words.

-

There were still moments you see Tetsurou break down. Eventually the ink climbs up higher and higher on his shoulders until you eventually see it peeking above the collar of his shirts. You have half the mind to ask, but at the same time, when Atsumu drapes his hands over your shoulders and you spot Tetsurou look away and bark out another joke—you decide against it.

“Are you happy?” Tetsurou asked you one day and you could almost laugh at how ironic the setting was. The two of you, along with Kenma had gone with Atsumu and the rest of MSBY in their team trip to a lake house ways from the city.

He asked that question when you joined him on the balcony one morning, a mug of coffee outstretched in offering to him. If it wasn’t for the morning fog clouding your hazy thoughts, you figured you would have caught on a lot quicker than you did—but at the moment, all you could think about was how warm Atsumu’s jacket was wrapped around you and how the roots of his natural hair were starting to peek through from what you observed earlier that morning.

Tetsurou smiled a thank you at the mug of coffee you offered him and motioned for you to take a seat next to him. He doesn’t ask the question again, but you spend the next few minutes of silence mulling about how the morning air brought bouts of nostalgia.

“I’m really happy, Tetsu.” You say and look at him, and you suddenly feel a little choked up. You blame the cold air for the blur in your eyes because when he smiles and wraps the blanket around him tighter while taking slow sips of his coffee you suddenly remember the moment you fell in love with him all those years ago.

In the solitude of the early hours, you’re brought back to the world from more than ten years ago and see the boy who spent his mornings with you through the pixilation of a computer screen. Your heart still beats with a fondness only attributed for him, but you suppose even the rhythm doesn’t flow the same way—you still love him.

And when he opens his eyes, red and teary and cheeks flushed, the fondness in his voice is as familiar as it had always been, “I’m glad, (y/n).”

You sniffle because even if you only exchanged the minimal words, you know the both of you understood everything lingering in the unspoken.

“Are you happy though?” you ask and knock your shoulder against his.

“I am, for you, I always am happy.” He says and laughs when you smack his shoulder a little harder this time in retort. “I meant you, dumbass. Are you happy?”

He laughs, sniffling and turning away from you.

“I love you.” He says, and before you could voice out your confusion he turns to you with a teasing glint in his eyes, “I began to tell myself that every day.”

You roll your eyes remembering your words from the balcony that one night. “Oh god, don’t just quote me.”

“I mean it!” he says and laughs along with you.

You think the two of you must look a little silly, crying at seven in the morning and laughing over your heartaches you endured some years ago, but your relationship with Tetsurou ran deeper than the norm, so you guess you don’t mind.

“Tetsu, I really want you to be happy.” You finally say, and you hope the softness in your tone reaches him.

Tetsurou looks at you in the way that’s sincere because he sighs into the air with a smile and wraps a hand around your shoulder—pulling you in for a half hug. You set your mug down to the side and wrap your own arms around his frame, burying your face in his chest.

He feels warm and you don’t come to mind his chin resting on top of your head.

“Happiness is a work in progress, I’ll get there in time. But I’m always facing to walk in that direction.”

“Promise?” you ask, and he pulls from you to look you straight in the eye.

Though before he opened his mouth to reply, the finality in his eyes quelled your worries.

He didn’t need to say promise because you were more than sure he was going to get there.

-

Miya Atsumu was someone who came into your life in a whirlwind of all the things you considered to be the most beautiful.

He’s a human being; far from perfection just as you were, but then again, the word perfection had always been subjective. Not a day passed by where you didn’t tell him thank you for always being patient. He dealt with his demons just as you had but like the certainty of those very demons coming and going in your life, the grip in his hand holding yours was just as steadfast and un moving.

Atsumu would be the one to tell you to bite your hand and push through it when you had no other option but walk through hell itself, but also in contrast, he would be the one to lay with you in the silence and rub circles on your back telling you to cry out whatever was hurting you.

He’d crack a couple jokes in between your sobs, and kiss your eyelids despite you telling him no and that your tears will taste gross.

You, on the other hand was always the one he came home to and your arms being opened was a constant whether he celebrated a victory or a loss.

Whether he’d cry because his service ace was the winning point, or cry because he felt second best, time and time again Atsumu would tell you his thank you for the presence through it all.

And when he tells you an I love you every day with the sun rising and setting as the witness, you know he means it just as he knows the sincerity he’s always found the comfort in with yours.

“Are you happy?” he asked you on your third year together and you could almost laugh at the parallels you’re begging to see with the conversation you had with Tetsurou some time ago.

“Really happy.” You reply and lace your fingers through his.

“With me?” he asks and smiles when you swing your joined hands back and forth. “With us.” You reply and lean forward to kiss his cheek.

Atsumu laughs and tugs you to walk with him ankle deep in the water. “This kinda feels familiar,” he comments and you laugh because it does. You mean it’s familiar because déjà vu is nudging at you and also because the both of you had found yourselves in a quiet stretch of beach along the coasts of Okinawa.

It wasn’t Siargao in the Philippines this time, and you could understand the distant chatter of Japanese in the background opposed to the dialect spoken in the Philippines those years ago, but it was the light of the setting sun peaking in Atsumu’s eyes that had you grinning ear to ear because this was your favorite part of the day.

When the both of you are a little over ankle deep in the water Atsumu releases your hand and points to the horizon on the western side of the world.

You turn and smile because he’s pointing to the sunset. Closing your eyes you, breathe in and breathe out—then smile because it wasn’t shaky. Briefly, you think of Tetsurou and what he could be doing this time in Tokyo—and smile again because he’s probably over at Kenma’s for movie night yelling into a TV and chucking popcorn in the air. You think about the new dating app he downloaded on his phone that he showed you the other day and chuckle to yourself in a way that had you feeling giddy. He was putting himself back out there and for that, you were always happy for him.

And so when you open your eyes and look at the western horizon, you shift your body to turn to Atsumu; you prefer looking at the setting sun’s painting from his eyes, anyway.

But you stop in your tracks because he’s grinning at you and then biting his lip in nervousness. You laugh, automatically choked up because he’s down on one knee with a ring in his hand.

“(Y/n),” he begins, but you don’t let him finish because as you’re staring into his eyes and see the sparks of orange and red reflected you’re suddenly throwing your arms on his shoulder and kneeling down with him.

“W-wait!” he protests, but laughs along with you, “—for god’s sake let me propose properly.”

You continue to laugh, even as you feel streams of tears rolling down your cheeks. Pulling away from him you grab his face in between your hands and wipe the tears rolling down his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, but you know it’s not much of a question because he doesn’t wait for you to answer since he’s kissing the palm of your hand and sliding the ring on your finger before you open your mouth to speak.

“I had a whole speech prepared,” Atsumu whines, sniffling when you laugh at him and hold his face in between your hands again.

You could cry because it truly does feel like déjà vu, because the sunset reflected in his eyes look just like that very sunset you could still remember on that day you fell in love with him all those years ago.

The water in Okinawa is not as warm as the water in the Philippines, and the water soaking your dress is a little uncomfortable like the sand digging in your knees, but with Atsumu being in front of you crying along to the comments you’re sharing back and forth with him—you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

“You know if I closed my eyes and this playlist wasn’t shitty, I could just pretend this our wedding.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a comment and let out a laugh instead. “Atsumu was in charge of the playlist. I told him to make the vibe uniform but he probably ignored everything after Atsumu make the playlist.”

Tetsurou snickers and squeezes your hand in his, while the other that’s resting on the back of your waist pulls you along to the sway of the music. You smile and lightly knock his chest with your hand that’s resting on his chest.

“Don’t tell him I’m trashing your wedding music.”

“He’ll laugh along with you,” you reply softly.

“Oi, Tetsurou!” Atsumu calls from the background; the two of you turn to face him, you greeting him with a slight wave and a wink while Tetsurou opts to shoot him a thumbs up and a smile.

“Stop tryin’ to steal my wife.”

Tetsurou laughs at your husband’s halfhearted warning, “She’s not really my type!”

“Damn straight.” Atsumu laughs, then turns towards the conversation he was having with Osamu.

“Why did it feel like my husband is trying to devalue me?” You snort and Tetsurou laughs because he knows you’re only joking.

“He trusts you and knows he can’t get rid of me that’s why.”

“Fair point,” you smile, agreeing.

“Hey Tetsu,” you say slowly, looking at him. He hums in response and looks at you with a smile mirroring your own.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t ask you what you mean by the thank you and you smile in appreciation because you know the message was delivered without a hitch. So the two of you continue to dance in circles, with Tetsurou snorting every time the music in Atsumu’s playlist got progressively more “country” as he dubbed it.

“We should write a book about this someday.” You quip and he nods, “Hell yeah, as long as I’m written as a super buff guy.”

Thank you for being my first love.

“I mean sure,” you reply, “but when Atsumu comes into the story he’s obviously more buff. It’s just canon like that.” Tetsurou huffs, turning his head away in exaggeration.

Thank you for breaking my heart but still leaving breakfast for me that morning.

“My character needs to have some really cool quotes though,” Tetsurou negotiates and you laugh out a sure, what do you got, before he replies, “If your goals don’t scare you, they’re not big enough.” You throw your head back and laugh. “That doesn’t even make sense, but sure, we can work that in.”

Thank you for being my best friend above everything that’s happened. Thank you for accepting Atsumu.

“Wait I have another quote,” he offers and you nod for him to continue. Tetsurou smiles at you, his eyes dazzling under the night sky’s stars and the venue’s fairy lights. “He loved her enough to let her go.”

You fall silent and the urge to suddenly cry hits you. Tetsurou smiles and spins you around until you’re face to face with Atsumu, who’s staring at you with a knowing and gentle smile from across the room.

You turn to face him and the tears well up even more at the feeling of déjà vu gnawing at your chest. It doesn’t hurt in a bad way because you know the both of you are heading in the right direction this time. Tetsurou smiles and tells you, “Love you, dumbass.” before you feel Atsumu’s hand take yours.

“I’m proud of the both of you.” Atsumu whispers, kissing the corner of your temple.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the protective husband?” you laugh.

“I know he’s a special person in your life, and I’m thankful for him everyday too because him being dumb enough not to love you led to us.” Atsumu replies, laughing along with you.

“Tsumu!”

“Kiddin.”

Resting your cheek on Atsumu’s shoulder, the two of you continue to move in slower circles. You meet Tetsurou’s gaze from your spot in the room and smile when he flashes you a thumbs up.

Thank you, Tetsurou thinks when he feels déjà vu nudging his heart. The dull of his heart thrumming doesn’t ache this time so he smiles towards you again and thinks of the baby’s breath tattoo he got the night inked on the left side of his chest.

When you turn and Atsumu meets his gaze, he gives the blonde a solid nod and another thumbs up.

Thank you for letting me love and let you go, (y/n).

 -

[kae-karo]

OKAYYYYYY KAE HERE WE GO!! 👏

For the Weird Writer Ask: how about 10, 25, and 32??

hello hello hi and tyty!!! <3

send me writing asks from this list!

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

hmm is a haunting good or bad? or is it neither, it just is? i think a lot of writing has haunted me for different reasons and in different ways, not all of them bad, but i'd be hard-pressed to put a single solitary definition on the term

writing from other people i wouldn't say haunts me? it tends to be my own writing if anything. stories unwritten tend to be the ones that haunt me most - bc i believe firmly in following inspiration, i have a bit of a trail behind me of partly-written stories that i have yet to find the inspiration to return to. and it hurts a little because they're good, i know they're good, i love the concept still but i just don't have the right vibes to keep working on them at the moment

other hauntings include ones that persist even after i've written them, which sounds strange but i really have a bizarre affliction where i write something, post it, and then after a week or so i've totally forgotten i even wrote it unless it's brought to my attention lmao. but some stories stick with me, or the emotions do at least - my 'pining for someone else' chaeya fic and the 100k multi-ship canon divergence au i wrote for bnha come to mind, things that haunt me in a good way - when i'm reminded of them, i'm proud and get warm fuzzies over what i've written

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

hmmm i feel like i don't have any details that are canon? certainly not ones i'd call weird or hyper-specific, at least (insert 'diluc got smashed at a snezhnayan event and blacked out for 3 days' tidbit here)

really i tend to have very specific hcs that make their way into a story in spite of their irrelevance: kaeya trained benny on how to use a sword (their normal attack strings are almost identical), childe can drink everyone under the table, barb is a little bit fucked up actually, hu tao and baizhu know Far More than they're supposed to, and i could probably come up with more if given too long to think about it lmao

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

i keep a quote board actually cause i'm a little bit of a 'brevity is the soul of wit' kind of person so i actually have a massive list of quotes that are meaningful to me but i'll share one i have yet to find a way to utilize somewhere yet:

"you're going to kill your own god so you can fall in love for the first time"

the whole song (i believe it's a song, lyrics here - x) is really powerful but i actually first saw it in a textpost aligned with some fandom that i've actually totally forgotten. but this one line especially hits me hard, which is strange as i've never been religious, and in all honesty i never took it religiously, bc my brain lives in the fandom universe 90% of the time, and i just applied it to one of my best blorbos (childe ajax tartaglia our best boi tart) and sometimes i get brainrot about how he is exactly the kind of character that would go to extremes like that (and, more broadly, how much i adore thinking about characters that would indeed go to extremes for those they love)

send me writing asks from this list!

[queen-of-my-goofball-army]

An Ode To Miyazaki:

Hi everyone! So for my final paper for film, we had to pick our own director of our choosing and talk about them extensively between the attributes that make them special. Our course focused on the narrative and technical styles of directors. For my final project, I have chosen my biggest hero in the world of animation and somebody that drastically changed my life as a young child, Hayao Miyazaki. Learning about him for this project gave me so much insight into not just his films but who he is as a person. I hope that my paper is as interesting for you to read as it was for me to do research for!

1. Hayao Miyazaki, often referred to as the Japanese Walt Disney is the front runner of his animation studio Studio Ghibli. I picked him because I already have sufficient knowledge and love of his films. One of the first memories that my parents love to remind me of is my first time watching Totoro and laughing at the introduction characters. Miyazaki himself stands out for a number of reasons. Over the years, Miyazaki has made a humongous name out of himself, one of his most famous movies Spirited Away became the most popular film to ever be released in Japan and also won the academy award for the best-animated film that year. His most “popular” films (I say popular in air quotes because it is nearly impossible for people to agree on a favorite) remain the aforementioned Spirited Away, My Neighbor Totoro, Howl’s Moving Castle, and Princess Mononoke. Beginning his career as a simple animator for Toei animation, he worked as an in-between artist. It was here that he met his future collaborator at Ghibli, Isao Takahata. His first big directorial debut in film before founding Ghibli was a team effort without Takahata was Lupin The Third, The Castle Of Cagliostro. His first successful movie was one that was based upon his own manga Nausicaa of the Valley Of The Wind. The first official Miyazaki movie that was made with Ghibli was one of my personal all-time favorites that had ever been created, Castle In The Sky. For many children, especially ones with parents who are lovers of a film like mine, Miyazaki was one of the first animators that I was introduced to. His films have become classics for every fan of animation, being referenced in culture, specifically back when Disney owned Studio in Toy Story 3, Bonnie has a Totoro.

2. So, this brings up the question, how does one recognize a film by Miyazaki? You can always expect for him to be critically acclaimed, for there to be some element of magic and whimsy in the way that he animates, for there to be something to do with flight (whether it be dealing with airplanes like in Porco Rosso, the idea of flight in Howl’s Moving Castle, or a floating castle up in the sky in Castle In The Sky.), his heroines are always strong-minded and live by their own rules never bowing down to anybody, his love stories are dynamic and fulfilled, a sweeping score by Joe Hizashi, and they have a meaning about nature somewhere, mostly about why it needs to be protected.

Let’s start by breaking him down narratively. The thing that is always in every Miyazaki film no matter which one you decide upon watching, is that his female characters are always strong-willed no matter what. In many ways, I think that he writes women better than Disney does. He has gone on record saying “Many of my movies have strong female leads—brave, self-sufficient girls that don't think twice about fighting for what they believe with all their heart. They'll need a friend, or a supporter, but never a savior. Any woman is just as capable of being a hero as any man.” Sometimes, this will cause them to come across as reckless, or stupid, but in my opinion, I have always looked up to his female characters and the way that they are portrayed. My personal favorite female character that he has ever brought to life through the screen is Sophie from Howl’s Moving Castle. She is strong-minded, not willing to put up with any of Howl’s dramatics, kind, an incredible adult figure for Markal, endlessly sympathetic to her friend’s plights (namely Howl and Calcifer), and somebody that I can always look up to. I spent most of my childhood looking up to characters like Kiki in Kiki’s Delivery Service, Chihiro in Spirited Away, or one of my personal favorite underrated girls, Fio in Porco Rosso. All of these female characters are independent and never let themselves be taken advantage of by anybody.

Another trait that can always be found narratively in his films is that Miyazaki is an airplane/ air travel fanatic. He absolutely loves airplanes, even to the point where his latest film, The Wind Rises was based upon the life of one of the first airplane manufacturers in WWII. Almost all of his films will involve something about flying in the air. Even with the ones that he didn’t direct and he just simply wrote. His obsession with flight is something that stemmed from his childhood and he never saw them as a thing to be used for war “airplanes are not tools for war. They are not for making money. Airplanes are beautiful dreams. Engineers turn dreams into reality.” My personal favorite of all of his flight animation is used in Howl’s Moving Castle when Howl and Sophie “fly” over the heads of all the people below them.

Narratively also one of the biggest things that set apart his films from any others is his focus on nature. The idea of protecting the beauty of nature is something that he has always stood by. A lot of the time, America tries to prove that it can make films about nature as well to usually varying results. I think that nobody can sell an environmental message quite like my biggest hero for Japanese animation. One of the main movies that focus on his will to protect nature above all else is Princess Mononoke. He always manages to animate nature in such a beautiful and majestic way no matter where the film is set.

I also think that a narrative trait of his that often gets overlooked is how beautiful the romance in his films can be. He never has a romance between two characters that feels stale or boring. I love the fact that you can pick any number of his films and the chance of there being a romance that you’ll get sucked into is a very large one. Everybody has their personal favorites, I love Howl and Sophie from Howl’s Moving Castle but my best friend loves Sousuke and Ponyo from Ponyo. He has on record saying that “I’ve become skeptical of the unwritten rule that just because a boy and girl appear in the same feature, a romance must ensue. Rather, I want to portray a slightly different relationship, one where the two mutually inspire each other to live - if I’m able to, then perhaps I’ll be closer to portraying a true expression of love.” Writing romance between two characters can be a very tricky thing which is why it’s always amazing when he can continually pull it off despite everything and how many films that he has made over the years. The beauty of having both a strong and independent male and the female character is that they can both lean on one another for love and support. Probably the biggest supporter of this is Whisper Of The Heart, a film that he wrote instead of directing. The romance is what makes up the entire film. It’s a beautiful love story about how two young teenagers fall in love with each other. The romance is something that continually keeps me coming back for more every time.

Technical style Miyazaki can always be assured to deliver breathtakingly stunning animation. There is a reason why so many people leave his films starving because the food that he draws always looks so good. For me though, it’s the backgrounds that stand out above all else. It’s nearly impossible to have one favorite shot in one of his films but I as a matter of fact do have one. The most breathtaking animation in any Miyazaki film is the scene where Howl takes Sophie to see his secret garden. Everything about this scene never fails to make my breath catch. It’s such a profoundly beautiful moment and how it is animated is something that I haven’t forgotten since my first initial viewing of the film when I was seven.

Another iconic technical trait is that Disney did a fantastic job dubbing the films from their original Japanese language into English. Back when Ghibli films first started to become popular, they needed a way for an American audience to see them. So Pixar’s CFO at the time, John Lassater made a deal with Ghibli that they would dub all the films from their original language for a brand new audience. Growing up, this was how I watched all of Miyazaki’s films. I fell in love with the way that they sounded in English. To this very day, I have yet to see one of his films in any other language. I don’t think that anybody could have dubbed them better. Ever since Ghibli and Disney went their separate ways and they went to GKids the dubs haven’t been the same.

Finally, the last technical trait is that a Miyazaki film will always have a score done by his longtime collaborator Joe Hizashi. The score is such a big part of what makes Miyazaki’s films his own. They are what get you sucked in through their whimsical and magical tones; they always fit the vibes that he’s going through at that moment. There is also the element of sound. Every Miyazaki film has a distinct sound effect that will set it apart from the one before it.

3. The first film that I want to look at is my personal favorite of all his films that he has made so far if you were to force me to pick just one Howl’s Moving Castle. Released in 2004, it was the 9th film that the director came out with. It has an 8.2 out of 10 on IMDB and an 87% on Rotten Tomatoes. The storyline for the movie follows a young woman named Sophie. She gets a curse set upon her by the Witch of the Waste and when she leaves home she finds the infamous Howl’s Moving Castle. This is the second Ghibli movie voiced by a Batman live action actor. Christian Bale voiced Howl Pendragon after Michael Keaton played the titular Porco Rosso.

Narratively this is definitely a Miyazaki film. From how strong of a female character Sophie is I spent most of my childhood looking up to her as a character. Strong female characters are everywhere in his films and in my opinion, Sophie is one of the strongest. Another strong factor is that flight plays a major part in this film. One of Howl’s main powers is that he has the ability to fly around. This leads to my favorite scene of flight in any Miyazaki film when Howl takes Sophie’s hand and they “fly” over the tops of the city down below them. All of his early films up until the last few were set in someplace other than Japan. This one is set in Europe, and he takes a lot of time while in the cities to show off all the different types of buildings while Sophie tours around the city.

Technically speaking this is also a Miyazaki film and holds all the titular traits of being so. The animation is utterly for lack of a better word, magical and spellbinding. It takes my breath away every time that I rewatch it. The food looks incredible, one scene that most of Miyazaki’s fans always think of when this movie is brought up is Calcifer making the food for Howl, Sophie, and Markal to eat. The dub for this film is also one of Disney’s best dubs for Miyazaki films. It even brings actors to the table that I usually would not like to see in other films like Christian Bale. I haven’t loved him in any other films than this one. Billy Crystal is a stand-out as well as my favorite fire demon Calcifer. The score is done by Joe Hizashi as well. My favorite part of the score is the main theme which has Howl and Sophie floating above the people below. The sound effect that follows throughout this film is the steady creaking of the castle itself.

Princess Mononoke was the first time that Miyazaki ever “retired”. Most of the time, whenever he tries to retire, he always comes back. A lot of his colleague's joke that it’s because he physically can’t stop working. He animated most of this movie by himself. Before Spirited Away it was Japan’s most famous film to date. The story about a young man who is just trying to erase the curse that was set upon him by an angry boar and it leads him to a place called Iron Town is something that never fails to amaze me. While in Iron Town, Ashitaka meets a young woman named San who was taken in by wolves and he finds himself caught between a war involving humans and the gods of the forest.

Narratively this is definitely a Miyazaki film. It has a strong female lead, focusing most of its screen time on how important it is to protect and preserve nature as a whole. The idea of protecting nature is such a moving part of the film, as we see what it does when man takes over the forest. We see how distraught it makes the Gods of this world and how they wish that the humans would just go away. However, you also see it from the point of view of the villain of the film Lady Eboshi, who also regularly helps lepers and people who would often never get work outside of her offering them a home and a family. I have regularly gotten into a debate with my mom over which side is “right” and which side “wrong” over the course of the last few years of me being a massive fan of this movie. She takes the side of the forest while I see Ashitaka’s side that everybody should just get along and interact in peace and harmony. Miyazaki never shoves the idea of nature down your throat. That is not what this film is. It’s instead about the beauty of what we have and learning to appreciate it.

On a technical level, this film is fantastic as well. It blows my mind that Miyazaki-san animated most of it all by himself. The backgrounds are sweeping and utterly gorgeous showing off the time period of the film. The fight sequences which make up the bulk of the film’s running time are engaging, thrilling, and fabulously animated. Mononoke’s score was done by Joe Hizashi as well. Its score is beautiful and I always find myself getting sucked into it, especially for the more dynamic scenes with Ashitaka and San. The sound effect for this film uses nature as a backdrop for brutality. Ashitaka’s arrows don’t just come out of his bow, they screech through the air.

Finally, my last film that we will be focusing on, Kiki’s Delivery Service was made in 1989 a year after his cult phenomena My Neighbor Totoro and was his fifth animated feature. Kiki is a young girl that is hoping to become a young witch in training. However, to do so she has to train a year away from home. She and her cat Jiji find a town by the sea where she learns her true strength and what she can really do to help others. Hayao Miyazaki didn't want to bore the audience during the film's end credits by using just the names. He set it up to be like a mini-sequel so that the audience would leave the theatre feeling happy.

Narratively this has all the traits that one should be familiar with and associate with a Miyazaki film. It has a strong-minded female character at the source of it that young girls can look up to and admire. As a kid, Kiki was my favorite female character of his because I loved her strength and her dedication to what she was good at. She knew that she was still young and had a lot to learn but even though she gets depressed she doesn’t let that stop her in the long run and will still save her love interest Tombo. The romance in this film is by far one of the sweetest. I love the interactions between the characters and the way that they both inspire one another to be better than they are. The idea of flight is basically the focal point of everything. Kiki finds that her best trait is that she flies incredibly well and decides to create her own flying delivery service.

Technically this also has a lot of traits that Miyazaki made a name for himself in doing. The animation is spectacular, especially for Kiki’s flying. I could watch her fly around all day and that was the idea that he was going for while making the film. The sweeping score by Joe Hizashi, especially in my favorite song A Town With An Ocean View, is something that I’ll often listen to outside of the film itself. The sound effects for the film are meant to be calming. From the first sound that you hear of the wind rolling through the reeds while Kiki lies against the grass to the waves when she finally finds a home.

4. Miyazaki as a director has inspired me since I was way too young to even remember. When I was a kid I would pretend to run around my apartment building's front yard imagining that I lived in a big house in front of a camper tree like the one in Totoro. His movies are perfect for children that “suffer” from having an overactive imagination. His movies are everything that is bright and beautiful in the world. The animation never fails to take my breath away, the characters and stories are unforgettable, the soundtracks sweep me away and tell stories themselves. His movies are something that even my parents, who are not anime fans, can watch over and over again. I think that speaks for itself. Miyazaki makes films that are art, not just animated films.

[by-faelight]

don’t think nesta storie is finished despite the happy ending. There’s a lot of unanswered questions about ending. Her connection to the mother and the dead trove. I still think she’s very powerful and surpasses Rys. I still think she’ll be an important character in the future books. Feel like her story is not finished yet.

I do hope that there is more to be learned and seen with Nesta, I just don't know that I still want to read it, considering all that happened, and my general lack of faith in the author.

I think you're right in that the Mother connection and the Trove leave a LOT left open. In the scene with the kelpie, when Nesta uses the Mask, there is a line where she says "she wouldn't raise thousands. Not yet." So that sounds like foreshadowing... she might command an army of the dead at some point? Which would be cool, except that they also mention that anyone else who has used the mask couldn't take it off easily or maybe at all. (Although Nesta does, who's to say she could always do that, especially now that she doesn't have the major cauldron powers?) HOWEVER. SJM gets a lot of praise for her foreshadowing from the fandom, but I see just as many places where what looked like foreshadowing actually never materialized. Which leads me to believe that she really just drops dramatic lines and hints kind of willy-nilly, and picks what she wants to expand on later. In ACOFAS alone, there were sooo many things hinted at, that were either brushed aside altogether, like the Illyrian rebellion side plot, Feyre emphasizing fae period cycles (a lot of people thought that would come up with Nessian), etc. One issue with ACOSF, I think, is actually that ACOFAS existed. It sounds silly but I think SJM jumped the gun with some of the things she put into ACOFAS, and we know she went back to it, because there were edits made to the ACOSF teaser from the end of the novella. ACOFAS was trying to lay the groundwork for 3 more full-length books and that's a lot.

I would even argue that if we hadn't known what direction ACOSF was going from the publishing of FAS, people would have maybe been more receptive to ACOSF, because it all would have been new info, and we wouldn't have had 3 years to plot how Nesta was going to escape the Illyrian Mountains. (Lol. Just me?) Then again, maybe being smacked in the face with the intervention 3 years later would have made people angrier. (And note, not everyone is - some people def enjoyed ACOSF, and I ENVY them.)

I would LOVE to agree with you about Nesta still being more powerful than Rhys, but.. I think SJM has proven that Rhys is untouchable in the narrative. At this point, with him really being a dick to almost every single character by now, and facing no repercussions, he is really a bit of a Mary Sue. Tell me if you agree!

I think overall since we are told that the next full length books are going to focus on X characters, SJM is pretty much done with Nesta's main story. So any hints at remaining powers are likely left to future, unwritten conflicts. (Which yes, is kinda a bummer. But hey - fanfic exists!!)

I have to confess that it was actually someone on this hellsite that shared a quote from the Cauldron scene in Hybern about Nessian that brought me into all SJM books. I was like *stomps breaks*, who are THESE?? It sounded like a pairing right up my alley. Little did I know that they were far from an eatablished couple at that point, and of course, I got swept away with all the other stuff that happens in these books. So you could say I have been waiting a long time JUST for Nessian!!! So I would love more. I'll always want more. And in that sense, I hope you are right that Nesta is a part of the next books.

That was so long-winded! I never get asks! So thank you!!

[writeblrfantasy]

okay so! you all said you wanted it, so here you go: my writing process.

1. i get an idea. i wish i could say there is a pattern to the way i get ideas but there really isn’t. could be an aesthetic or a color scheme or a character that i have in mind, sometimes it just comes to me. trs was a product of tumblr pictures, pawns was born out of my love of villain/hero relationships and master/slave relationships, queen & captain was a female take on merlin. it’s something different every time.

2. if i decide it’s a wip i want to pursue and plan, i start writing everything i know in a planning document, plot, character types, names, worldbuilding, anything like that. i create a part of the document just for the plot, and over time i fill in that and everything else i don’t know. i set aside a couple hours to do research for names i want.

cont’d

3. plotting. i always start out my wips by plotting instead of pantsing. i divide the story into three loose acts and write down every scene I know and leave blanks for the ones i don’t and * for names i don’t have yet. i make every unwritten scene orange (don’t ask me why, I just do)

I always know the beginnings (and usually the ends) of my stories, but middles give me a lot more trouble. usually there’s a lot of dialogue in quotes that I know I want to put in that scene in my outline. dialogue is my strongest point and what comes to me most easily, so I always have a lot of this!

ex: (this is some of the plotting for trs, which I still have)

it always ends up a mess, but i get it pretty well.

4. writing. once i’ve plotted everything i can and am confident I can get going, I start writing in a different document. i suck at titles, but if i happen to know what the title is going to be before i start writing, i of course i title the document that. if not, i write something random. if there’s still names for minor characters i don’t know yet, i just put *. with every scene i finish, i turn it green. if i’m doing nanowrimo i am pretty good at knocking out a few thousand a day unless i’m really busy that day. often i will get stuck and have to take a break, but i always get back on my feet.

often all the scenes i’ve planned don’t add up to a word count i’m happy with, and almost always does the actual book deviate from the plan. i think up new scenes as i go and use my outline loosely for inspiration largely during the middle. writing my first draft is my favorite part of the whole process!

if it’s a wip i’m really pumped up to write and work on everyday, these days it takes me about 2 months to write. this wasn’t always the case, but i’ve completed several wips in this time frame. trs took 4 months, but that was the first wip i ever completed and it was also 110k. so that’s a bit different.

5. editing. once i finish my first draft, i may take a day off just to recharge and celebrate, but i am not the type to take six weeks off before i start editing. i just don’t have the patience lol. i do very, very little editing while i’m doing my first draft, so when i go back in to edit, i have a mostly fresh outlook on it. does this mean i won’t go back and edit things again months or years later? no, i do that often. but this is what i do in the moment.

editing (in chronological order, i don’t usually jump around the doc much) takes me about a week or maybe two and i generally add 10k by the time i’m done. i’m an underwriter so i don’t take much away in editing. i will admit editing is my least favorite part of writing but it’s so, so necessary.

6. i might go back in and spot edit and do spell checks and all that, but this is generally when i’m done! wips (not nanowrimo) usually take about three months total and averages out at about 70-75k, with exceptions, of course. after this i send it to my friends and let my mom read it, and my darling best friend is kind enough to make a list of her favorite things about it. i have a special color in my journal (purple!) to write that i finished a book that day.

there you have it! my writing process! i hope this was interesting to read, and if you made it all this way, write moo in the comments! let me know what y’all think. what are your writing processes like? do we do any of the same things?