#dies irae fanfic

[ghostydrawsthings-official]

House Call (Dies Irae Fanfic)

Pairing(s): Self-ship with Dr. Kurosaki (Dies Irae VN)

Rating: SFW (18+ fandom so it’s still not for kids)

Warnings: unnecessarily in-depth descriptions of medical procedures (lol srry), drugging, Dr. Kurosaki being Dr. Kurosaki

Needed context: before this fic, the main character woke up with amnesia and no loved ones and was treated by Dr. Taiga Kurosaki, who gave them his number and offered to help them navigate life.

Dr. Kurosaki via @codemiracle

I headcanon that Dr. Kurosaki uses smiley face emojis/emoticons wayyyy too much lol

Fic below cut, enjoy!

Me: Uhhh hey my throat feels kinda funny

Me: Has for like- 4 days lol should I get it checked out? Kinda hurts ngl…

I whined in pain as I awaited a response from my friend. Er- my doctor? I’m still not sure what our relationship should be categorized as. Either way, I wanted his advice as a medical professional. Wait, should I even be bothering him?

He gave me his number in case I had trouble navigating the world as an adult with no memories and zero friends, not to bug him with irrelevant stuff I should figure out on my own. Is this an abuse of that avenue of communication? I think I should only be asking about like- laws and directions and stuff. Ugh, now I feel bad.

Me: Wait, are you guys super busy today? Aaaaa dw dw I’m ok if ur busy

My mood perked up when I saw the little icon showing that he was typing, my worries fading.

Taiga: Oh, you poor thing :(

Taiga: Come on over, I’ll get you sorted out :)

I blushed. It always flustered me so much when he talked to me that way, like I’m just a small helpless thing he’s charged with caring for.

Me: Wait to your work or ur house?

The typing icon popped up, then disappeared again. After a moment, it showed up again.

Taiga: Just come to my house, I’m off early :)

Me: nooooo I don’t wanna make you work if ur off already :((((

Taiga: No need to worry your pretty little head over it, I don’t mind. Actually, I’ll come to you. Just rest for now :)

Me: >/////< okayyyy

I turned my phone off and buried my heated face in my blanket. It was absurd how that man could make me feel so giddy while in the throes of illness.

He called me pretty…

Did he really think that? Well, if he did, then he had another thing coming once he saw my disheveled state. My hair was a mess (more than it usually was, at least) and I was certain my eye bags were twice as noticeable. Also, I probably smelled like sickness, too. I suddenly felt the urge to tell Dr. Kurosaki not to come. Unfortunately, I didn’t want to inconvenience him even more by changing plans on him so soon.

In the meantime, I decided to just scroll through some sort of social media to keep my mind off of things till he got here. By the time I heard the knock on my door, I was very grateful I hadn’t decided to go anywhere because I genuinely felt terrible. My throat felt like it was on fire and I felt increasingly nauseous and dizzy.

Me: It’s unlocked, you can just come in

I heard the door open, followed by the doctor’s kind voice.

“You know, you shouldn’t just have the door unlocked like that, especially if you’re incapacitated,” he teased, but I could hear the concern in his voice. Yeah, that was probably good advice. “Where are you?”

I really didn’t want to use my voice and aggravate my sore throat, so I did the next best thing: I squeaked as loudly as I could. Thinking back on it, I probably could have just thrown a pillow at the door, but then I would have missed out on his soft intake of breath and adoring expression as he walked into my line of sight.

“Why, hello there, are you a mouse now?” he laughed. I drew the covers up to hide my face up to my eyes out of embarrassment. “No, don’t be like that, dear, you’d be a very good mouse.” I felt my ears go red at that.

As if to prove his point, he ran his fingers through my hair. I couldn’t help leaning into it, the gentle touch far too soothing to ignore or avoid.

“Now, let’s see, your throat is feeling funny? Do you have any other symptoms?” he asked, still caressing my head. I nodded and picked up my phone, typing on a notes app for him to see.

Throat is now v sore and i feel rlly cold and i have a headache. Also im nauseous…

“I see,” the doctor hummed, “I’ll need to test you for the flu, strep, and a few other illnesses. Sit up for me?” He held my arm, helping me get up as he fished around in his duffel bag. He brought out an otoscope and proceeded to check my ears, nose, and the back of my throat. His eyebrows drew up together, so I assumed the inflammation was visible. He patted my shoulder.

“I’m going to swab you now. Three of these will be oral and one will be nasal.” I whined, and he shushed me. “I know you don’t like nasal swabs, but it’s for your own good.”

I sighed and settled down.

“Good, good,” he murmured. He picked up a swab and gently held my chin. “Open up for me.”

I did, and managed to not gag as he swabbed the back of my throat. That got me a round of praises I couldn’t help blushing at. He swabbed me two more times and put each swab away. When he finally picked up the last swab, I couldn’t help feeling a little nervous.

“Don’t worry, it’ll only be a moment.”

I braced myself as he inserted the swap up my right nostril, the discomfort quickly breaking into pain. The swab moved in circular motions, bringing tears to my tightly shut eyes. Two sets of hot, salty tears rolled down my face before Dr. Kurosaki finally removed the swab and put it away with the others.

He cupped my cheeks in his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “There there, it’s over now. I just need to test these samples and then we’ll know what’s going on, okay?”

I nodded and relaxed into his hold. Before I could wrap my arms around him in a hug, he moved away to grab the testing kits. I felt even colder in his absence. He quickly performed each test with practiced movements, and all I could think about was how competent he seemed. I mean, surely he must be if everyone called him Doctor even though he hadn’t graduated yet. I was grateful to have someone like him by my side. Even if I didn’t deserve him. Ugh, go away, depressing thoughts!

Dr. Kurosaki hummed once the tests’ results finally showed up. He dug around in his bag and retrieved an orange bottle of pills. Why did he have that…?

“Ah, here,” he held the bottle out to me, “you’ll need to take these antibiotics.” I typed out a response on my phone.

What do I have?

“Ah, you have strep throat.” I frowned. Again??? That’s the third time this year… “Yes, again,” he sighed, as if reading my mind. “We should really look into why this keeps happening to you. I could have sworn it was just last week you were bundled up on my couch for the same reason.”

His pleasant, almost wistful expression did not match his words.

“But first, let me get you something to drink with that. I’ll be back.” He kissed my forehead before leaving, and for a moment I worried he’d get sick, too. But I probably shouldn’t worry about that. He’s a doctor, he knows what he’s doing.

When he came back with a glass of some sort of red, sweet-smelling liquid, I gratefully reached out to take it from him, but he simply laid me back down and shushed me when I made a questioning noise.

“Shhh, I’ll take care of you,” he crooned. He fished two capsules from the medicine bottle and held them to my lips. Flustered, I took them into my mouth and let him pour some of the drink down my throat to help me swallow it. The drink was nice and sweet, as well as thick, which helped to not set off my sore throat. I couldn’t help but blush at the intimacy of his actions. There was no way doctors normally did this with patients, right?

The doctor set the cup down and ran his fingers through my hair gently. Oddly enough, I felt even more sluggish than I normally would while sick. I looked at Dr. Kurosaki in confusion, but he just smiled. “Side effect. Don’t fight it.” I vaguely heard him sigh, barely making out his soft words. “Such a sweet little thing… so helpless for me. So… dependent. You’ll never be able to stay away from me.” I managed to tilt my head, utterly confused. “Don’t worry, you won’t even remember this when you wake up.”

That was not comforting in the slightest. I blacked out.

#read the warnings #ghost writes stuff #dies irae #dies irae fanfic #dies irae kurosaki #taiga kurosaki #fanfic #male yandere

[klondiketales]

I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to keep you down here, but I don’t know what else to do. You’re always talking to other people. You’re always making me angry. It’s like you do it on purpose.

It’s okay.

You’re not mad?

I’m not mad.

Okay.

Freckle?

Yes?

I’m really thirsty.

I’ll get you some water. I brought milk and syrup, too. Oh, and here’s your Christmas gift, and look, I got you this for New Year’s. Do you like it?

It’s beautiful. Thank you.

I love you.

I love you, too.

Rocky?

Yeah?

I love you. I love you so much. I’ll do anything for you.

I love you, too.

You know I’ll do anything for you, right? I mean it. If you ever want something, just tell me, and I’ll get it for you.

I don’t want anything.

But if you do, just tell me, and I’ll get it.

We’re going to need a cradle.

I’ll make one. We’ll need baby clothes, too. And baby toys.

He can share mine.

I love you, Rocky.

I love you, too, Freckle.

Hurry up and eat and then we’ll do something. You can do that thing again if you want.

You want me to suck you off?

Yes.

Okay.

Can I pet you?

Sure.

#fanfic #cw #rape #dies irae #notes #i’m sure i deserve this

[countaile]

Hey, did you know that for the past few months, I’ve been busy writing a Pokemon fanfic? It’s called Dies Irae, and this pic right here is the cover for it. The fic has everything - dark dystopian future, deconstruction of the Pokemon world, and lesbian romance that does NOT get stuck in the “will they/won’t they” phase for too long.

You can read it on:

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43654212/chapters/109770246

FFN: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14196154/1/Dies-Irae

#Gardevoir #Hiei The Gardevoir #Dies Irae #Pokemon #Art #fanfic

[bloodoftigers]

Magician’s Secret

The Phantom of the Opera x Harry Potter magic crossover story. (FFN / AO3)

Worlds collide as the Opera Ghost gains an unexpected accomplice in the form of a witch from Hogwarts. In this twisting iteration, dark wizards descend upon the Paris Opera House in search of the Elixir of Life and the Elder Wand.

Chapter 01 - (4,570 words) Dreams of a Witches’ Sabbath 

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

A ravaging rip echoed over the lake.

His fingers paused, hovering over the ivory keys. Despite the power of his pipe organ, the distant rumblings tore his mind away from composing. He rose and curiously walked towards the water's edge. Rounding a corner of the underground cavern an odd breeze blew past. It was too strong to be the usual drafty chill. Flickering candlelight cast twisted shadows over the room but his eyes saw through it to the middle of the lake. Something was amiss.

Standing from the shoreline he felt the wind picking up until a large gust blew all the candles out. He fastened a cloak around his shoulders before stepping onto his gondola and began paddling to the disturbance. As he neared the center the wind stopped altogether and the choppy waves calmed. The black water reflected only darkness. He started to suspect some rare weather anomaly had to be thrashing the exterior of the opera house to feel it so far down below. A winter storm was plausible, he expected a great deal of snow to fall in the evening.

Just as he was about to turn back he noticed a sickly green light emanating from beneath the surface. The ripples obscured a clear view. Leaning forward he peered into the deep lake and wondered what trick of the light would cause it. This area was too many stories removed from the streets of Paris to receive direct sunlight. Perhaps a stroke of good fortune would lead him to discover a cluster of emeralds. While maintaining his balance in the gondola he leaned downwards to inspect the rising bubbles. They grew from one or two to a whole fountain and with it, the green light shone brighter.

Before he could decide how to proceed a column of water erupted. Recoiling from the blast he was stung by icy droplets. The rising water sprouted high and in the resulting waves, his fingers dug into the steering oar to steady himself. Green hues danced over the surface as he began to worry about flooding. Suddenly, the reverse waterfall dissipated and the light vanished.

He dropped his tensed shoulders and exhaled sharply. Some extremely rare weather indeed, he summed it up to trapped air pockets in the lake's depths being released matched with exposed toxins in the air to create the illuminating display. He resolved to return to his affairs as if nothing had happened until he saw the body floating toward him. It was a female, young, with long hair and luckily orientated faceup. He reached out to grab her to check if she was dead. He could not tell for certain from looks alone as she had not yet started to decay.

Pulling her onto his gondola he was surprised to find her completely dry. She was cold to the touch with a faint pulse, her eyes remained closed. She appeared as if in deep sleep or otherwise unconscious. She wore some type of student uniform, whether it was from a boarding school or university he could not decide. Her age was eluding him. She appeared to be around the ages of the chorus girls and ballet dancers, but he did not recognize her from anywhere. Her clothes were not of the latest fashion and they were too unusual to be some new costume idea. She wore a heavy black cloak but he could see underneath there was an odd green robe.

A thud sounded against the boat's hull, he turned and saw a broom floating in the water with a small bag wrapped around its handle. He suspected that his lack of sleep and food was contributing to this mystifying dream. Regardless he plucked both items up and stowed them on board.

He steered them both back across the lake to his home. In his mind, he considered all of the places to return her to, assuming she was a member of the opera company in some way. Dropping her off in the dormitories could suffice but he liked the spectacle of leaving her on the stage for someone to find later in the morning. That was if she survived long enough to be discovered.

The gondola curled up the gravel banks of the lake. Checking her heartbeat again he felt it growing weaker. He leaned in close to her, his head hovering above her chest as he listened intently for any signs of breath. Just as with her pulse, her breathing was almost inaudible. Solemnly he moved his featherweight touch from her neck to her head. His fingers laced through her hair searching for any signs of injury. After finding nothing to indicate any damage he turned his attention to her face. She was still unconscious and looked rather plain.

Her complexion was fair enough, though, at the moment she looked disturbingly pale. Her hair was dark brown and fell past her elbows. Her mouth was mismatched with a thin upper lip and a full lower. Her bone structure was average with no prominent features in her cheeks, nose, or jawline. He cupped the side of her face, so gently as if she were to crack at any moment and looked at her still closed eyes. Delicately he lifted one lid open, it was dull and unfocused. He opened the other and felt once more for a pulse, he sensed none. With silent regret, his hands fell away as he sat back on the bench. He mulled over what could have caused her death and how she could have ended up in his lake unannounced.

With a sigh, he grabbed the broom and bag to bring into his house. He tied the gondola to its post and carried the peculiar things inside to inspect before taking her body upstairs. There seemed to be nothing of great intrigue regarding the broom, aside from its rigidly warped build and inability to sweep properly. Two pegs were sticking out of it on either side that appeared to be a type of self-holding stand. The small bag wrapped around its handle did interest him and he proceeded to spill the contents onto his drawing-room table. Only, nothing fell out of the bag, and when he reached his hand in to check he was shocked to find his whole arm would fit inside. There was a multitude of things in that bag of impossible size.

His fingers brushed over something wooden and narrow, he pulled out a stick with ornate details carved into it. It was longer than his forearm and caused his mind to spin with how it could be done to trick concealment of a long stick in a bag that was a fraction of its length. He looked over it in great interest and could not find anything pointing to it being bendable or otherwise collapsible to break down in size. Not to mention any of the other objects he felt that were of various sizes.

Resigning to properly examine his newfound discoveries later he stowed away the broom, bag, and stick. Leaving his house for a second time that night he locked the door behind him and very nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight before him. Had he been anyone but himself he would have surely flinched and maybe even screamed.

The girl was standing on the shore, facing the lake. He did not hear her stir and returned to the land of the living, though with him 'living' may have been better exchanged for the dead. He was certain that he had felt her heartbeat fade away into nothing and her last breath a mere wisp of mist. Yet, there she was standing before him.

"What part of the castle is this?" She asked, her voice unexpectedly calm.

"My dear this is an opera house, not a castle."

She turned to face him. "You're lying..." She spoke with obvious hesitation.

"I may be many foul things but a liar is not one of them."

"Well where are we then, and who are you?" Her northern English accent became more apparent.

"We are beneath the Palais Garnier," he began to inform her, watching closely as her expression grew more concerned. "I am known by many names and it would seem your fellow ballet brats have failed to enlighten you with tales of the most exaggerated kind regarding me."

"I'm not in any ballet." She said, her brows furring together. He was already suspecting a great many things about her identity if this was not some lavish dream of his sleep-deprived mind. "The Paris Opera House?" She asked, having trouble believing him.

"Yes, that one." He confirmed. Her face fell and he wished to hear her thoughts at that apparent revelation. "Now, will you tell me who you are and why you have entered my domain?"

"I don't know how I got here…" she replied trailing off. He had yet to see anyone lose their senses in this way. The manner of her addled state was wearing thin on his patience. She appeared to be undisturbed by his masked presence.

"What is your name?" He asked, putting all of his talents of persuasion into his voice.

"My name is-" She cut herself off, she opened her mouth again as if to speak but resisted his honeyed tones.

"Go on."

She turned wary now, her guard had come up and maybe it was something in his yellow eyes, or perhaps as she became more aware a veil was removed on her observations of his unnatural being.

"Is this some kind of test?" She spoke with a hint of dread.

"More so for me than it is for you, as you have yet to truthfully answer any of my questions."

"I'm not lying to you!" She insisted. "I don't know what happened before I woke up on this boat."

"This is a poor attempt of yours to convince me otherwise." His voice turned cold. "Tell me, are you here to murder me? You should know that many have tried over the years and I don't see why you would be successful when all others have failed." He finished darkly, dripping with sardonicism.

"Why would anyone want to kill you?" She asked softly.

With unexpected glee, he let out a high hair-raising laugh. He was beside himself cackling at the betrayal of her innocence. He knew she was no assassin for she had no means to kill him aside from her bare hands which could never hope to outmatch his own.

She was unnerved by his outburst and desperately wished to wake from this ensuing daze. Her thoughts ran rampant with the possibility of having accidentally consumed a potion of sorts that had culminated in this budding nightmare. She refused to believe what he had told her.

"You must forgive me for it has been so very long since I have heard such humorous words."

She said nothing. His insanity was worrying her about what he was capable of. Feeling afraid of the unknown she reached for her wand… but it was not in her robe's pocket. Alarm rushed through her, spurred on by his seemingly all-knowing gaze as if he could hear her crying out in despair of having lost it.

"Where is my wand?" She demanded, not caring who this man was.

"Ah, that magic word! If you refer to that gaudy stick then it is properly hidden away, along with other curious items."

"Give me back my things! My wand, you can't use it, it won't work for you, just return-"

"That funny little bag of yours works wondrously for me." He interjected, reveling in her flailings. "What trick do you use to give the illusion of being larger on the inside?"

"Please," she begged. "Please give them back to me."

"Interesting, you seem to have forgotten a certain broomstick that looks poorly adept for sweeping."

She froze and said nothing.

"You know, you could still be burned for having something like that."

She remained silent, her fists were balled in rage and her face was hard pressed to not react further. Overwhelming feelings of gloom and danger washed over her. His efforts to rattle her had worked in his favor and she was not skilled enough with wandless magic to do anything to him. His threat nearly made her tremble and it took all of her remaining resolve not to.

"Now," he started to carefully walk towards her. "Why don't you come with me inside where you can tell me all about these magical possessions of yours." He reached out to grab her arm and with a cracking sound she was gone. The noise reverberated over the cavern as he stared at her absentee space, tremendously impressed. Faster than he could react she had completely disappeared from before him. So, there was something special about her after all!

With a wicked grin, he turned on his heels to enter his house in search of paper and ink. He would not let her escape with all that knowledge concealed from him. He had once been referred to, among other things, as the prince of conjurers but she was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Hastily he whipped out his quill and began scratching away his grand design. He wrote details for a pact he schemed for her to enter into with him. As of the last several years, he had been preoccupied with composing his opera and planned to sleep forever after it was complete but now he was all too interested in the higher mysteries of the world. In due time he would finish his magnum opus, though along the way he sought to squeeze every last drop of knowledge from her.

He was not concerned with her sudden departure for he knew the items in his possession were too precious for her to leave for good. People had such interesting weaknesses. He hid her broomstick and bag away so that only he could retrieve them, though he imagined that with magic one could do anything. Magic was real! He could scarcely believe it was true and yet there was no other way to describe her actions. He relished in the sensation of having her at his disposal to show him how to wield this force to be used for his every whim and wish.

Upon finishing his contract he capped his ink jar and placed it in his coat beside the feather quill. Taking one last glance over his writing he blew on the parchment to be certain it was dry before rolling it up. He slid her wand up his sleeve for safekeeping. Before leaving he put on a pair of gloves and his brimmed hat.

Letting his mind wander he considered all the places she could have disappeared to. He settled on the rooftops, deducing that she would not believe they were truly in a foreign land to her without seeing it for herself. She seemed to know something about Paris in recognizing the opera house's alternative name. He expected that she would try to remain alone and sort out the situation on her own rather than running rampant in the streets for the nearest sign of life. She seemed to have some wits about her and would notice the late evening hour. Not to mention, most of everyone would be blissfully asleep tonight anyways.

He set out for the roof with an unusual jaunt in his step. He had not felt this energized in years. The prospect of this magical prize had elevated him from his recent boredom slump of dealing with the opera house managers. In his ascent to the highest point of the building, he pondered over why she would come here, to begin with. It must be a gift of the season to have an opportunity such as this in his grasp.

Slipping through his numerous secret passageways he emerged out into the cold night air amidst the Parisian skyline. Fresh snow had fallen and snowflakes continued to drift in the air. Off in the distance, to the southwest, the Eiffel Tower stood as a tall beacon in the dark. Around the opera house, various buildings glowed in the gentle flickering light. He did not have far to look before spotting her lying in a heap of snow.

Quietly he made his way down from near Apollo's Lyre to where she was. As his approach drew near he heard faint noises emanating from her and realized she was crying. He also smelled something sour and noticed a nearby puddle of wretchedness. For a moment he paused, pitying her in that sorry state. To somewhat respectfully alert her to his presence he made no effort to soften his remaining steps.

Hearing the snow crunch underfoot she managed to stand but she looked more unsteady than she had been in his lair. She stood near the edge of the rooftop and for the first time looked down at the street and noticed holly and evergreen decorations. Her hair and robe were littered with snowflakes. She said nothing to him, though he could see she was troubled with reddened eyes and a sniffling nose.

"Will you tell me what you are called now?" He asked mildly.

"Lindsey Durham." She said dejectedly. The light snowfall was growing.

"Splendid mademoiselle," he said, trying to allure her. "I have a contract here for us."

Slowly he retrieved the paper from his breast pocket and outstretched his hand to her. Her glistening eyes looked down at his offer. When she reached out to touch the parchment it floated loose from his glove to hover in the air. It unfurled itself, displaying the red ink.

"In short, Miss Durham, I seek for you to enter my service for as long as I deem necessary to utilize your abilities. Henceforth, you will be bound to me completely and wholly without fault to carry out any task I might ask of you. Upon entering this deal you will not seek out any means to bring me to harm or undermine my instructions in any capacity. Furthermore, you will not partake in anything relating to an attempt to break this agreement. If you do any of these prohibited actions or try to flee from my commands I will detonate the explosives hidden around the opera house. In return for your faithful obedience, I will provide you with suitable accommodations here within the opera house and I will save you from certain death by not revealing your true nature to anyone."

"And what is my true nature?" Lindsey sounded hollow, reading over his many detailed words.

"You are a magic user, a magician, a sorceress, a witch, or whatever other titles."

Snowflakes swirled around them. He pulled out his feather quill and ink jar for her. She took the quill, resigning to his will. With a rough swallow, she dipped into the scarlet well. Spinning the quill between her fingers she hesitantly looked at him.

"What day is it?" A plain question she asked him, and their eyes met.

"It is the 24th of December." He answered. It was almost midnight.

"Year?"

He almost scoffed at her, thinking she sought to stall him. "1880."

She stifled a cry and closed her eyes as another tear spilled out onto her stained face. Her hand shook slightly over the contract.

"Is there a problem?" He questioned her hesitation.

"I am not from this century."

Before he could ask what she meant exactly by that Lindsey signed her name and date, agreeing to his terms. Greed flooded through him, and finally, he would learn the greatest forms of illusion. He imagined a great many ways to use magic to heighten his skills and-

A nearby clock chimed out the new hour and with it came heavier snowfall.

"Come." He instructed her, gesturing to where he had entered from. "I will show you to your room for the evening, lest you freeze out here in this wasteland."

"Is it back down by the lake?" She asked.

"Yes." That was all he managed to say before she took his arm and suddenly he felt like he was being pulled through a pipe. His vision went black and he feared that she had unleashed horrors on him. Just as quickly as it started it was over. His shoes landed on the familiar ground standing outside his front door. He braced his arm against it to steady himself. The weight was lifted from his body and he began to breathe again. She stood beside him as if nothing had happened.

"What was that?" He demanded of her.

"Apparition," she started explaining. "One of the forms of transportation where we appeared here instantly without traversing any of the space in-between."

"Next time, warn me." His insides were churning from the experience. "Better yet, alert me before you do any magic."

"As you wish." Lindsey's face was dry now but she still looked pale.

She followed him inside to the drawing room and was taken back to see such opulent furniture and decorum. There was a grand piano, a harp, a couch, chairs, a coffee table, rugs, and a wide assortment of candles. It was quite the sophisticated abode for its dungeon-like location.

He led her past a dining table and into a marble-floored hallway. In a fluid motion, he grabbed one of the smaller candelabras. They walked by one dimly lit room before arriving at a second. Lindsey wondered how many rooms there were and why he would need them. From his dress clothes and cape, she had first thought he was a wizard, though he seemed to not recognize magic and thus would be unlikely to know Hogwarts or Beauxbatons.

"You will stay here for now," he detailed to her. "Once the company has returned from the holiday break I will move you upstairs to the ladies' dormitories." He placed the candle holder on the table.

This little room was simply furnished by comparison. There was a wooden bedstead, a sofa, and a large dresser among other things. Off in the far wall, she noticed another door, peering inside further it led to a modest bathroom. Lindsey turned back to face him and hoped when she woke she would remember this dream. Her wild creativeness was unexpected to this degree of lucid detail. He watched her look about the bedroom.

"Earlier, you said you were known by 'many names', what should I refer to you as?"

"You may call me Erik."

"Do I get to keep my wand now?" Lindsey asked as she brandished her wand from her robe sleeve. His lip curled at her deception. As soon as she spoke he realized the stick was no longer tucked away on him and that she must have retaken it when they went through the magic portal down here.

She muttered something unintelligible to him and from her wand tip sprouted tiny flames that fanned around the room to all the unlit candles. Bathed in the soft light she had a slightly smug expression. His eyes narrowed in irritation and he had half a mind to drop her back in the lake. The price of her magical madness would be his patience.

Seeking to enthrall him she cast another spell and this time the flames poured into her outstretched hand. She was holding fire, soft crackling fire, in her bare hand. The shivering light raised many questions in his head. He wanted to know if it was warm yet unburning if it would grow like normal fires if it would last forever, and how long would it take to learn this spell of hers along with all her other secrets.

Her hand was held out to him as if she meant for him to take the flame. He stepped closer to her with his eyes fixated on the magic. He reached out gingerly, some small part of him concerned with singeing part of his gloves.

Quick as a snake his hands lashed out, one grabbed her fiery wrist and the other closed around her wand in hand.

"I thought I told you to warn me before doing any magic, girl." He leered at her. The fleeting delight she may have felt was gone now and the fire faded away into nothing. He ripped the wand away from her hand and turned to lock her in the room. Leaving her behind in a daze he planned to check in on her in the morning.

"If I am allowed my wand I can heal your facial wounds."

Her voice was soft, with a hint of trepidation. She had not moved from her previous conjuration. He twisted to face her, slowly, hardly daring to believe the words spoken. He stalked towards her. She was unflinching. He stopped directly in front of her with no room for light between them, glaring down at her.

"And what is so wrong with my face that begets your need of fixing?" He asked harshly, fueled by mocking naivety.

"Why else would you wear such a mask?" She spat back. "You can't be that stupid in concealing your identity to only cover half of your face so there must be something wrong with the other side. Besides, it's apparently Christmas Day and you are down here all alone so you must not have any family or friends or anyone who cares about-"

He silenced her by seizing her shoulders. Gripping her tightly he regained a hold of his anger. Hearing her speak touched a nerve and he would not listen to it from anyone. Usually, he was not bothered with things like this, for some reason she had gotten under his skin. He would not let her see how accurate her assumptions were, not now, not ever. He needed her magic and would see it through to completion. After that, he could always drop her off at the asylum for scrambled minds and be done with it.

"In the future, I trust you will not mention my face again, for if you do I will break this wand of yours in half and burn the pieces." With a forceful shake, he released her and walked towards the door. She said nothing in return and watched him leave. Just before closing the door, he threw his voice out to sound just behind her:

"You forget I am not alone, you are down here with me too."

He locked it behind him and headed back for the drawing room. Leaving her to waste away the remaining hours of the night he cared not if she cried herself to sleep. He did not trust her and she was far too emboldened for his liking. The reality of her situation would dawn soon enough and then they might make some accomplishments. Customarily everyone feared him to varying extents, just mere suggestions of his presence sent the opera house into a panicked frenzy, never mind actual glimpses.

In his frustrations, he unburdened himself by playing away on the piano. After a few hours, he grew tired and retired to his room. He paused outside her door and listened intently, hearing nothing. Hoping she had gone to sleep he entered his room to at last collapse in an exhaustive slump.

#phantom of the opera #erik the phantom #slytherin #witchcraft #magic #harry potter #hogwarts #gaston leroux #andrew lloyd webber #broadway #christine daae #raoul de chagny #lindsey durham #le fantôme de l'opéra #hector berlioz #dreams of a witches sabbath #dies irae #does the news of a musical closing ever compel you to resurrect and old fanfic from 7 years ago? #archieve of our own #ao3 #fanfiction #ffn.net #phantom fanfic #phantom of the opera fanfic #poto fanfiction

[edthefatmagicturtle]

I was trying to find some good music to listen to while I wrote angst, and couldn’t find anything that fit, so I decided to go back to basics, and listened to the Dies Irae. It certainly sets the mood. 

#writing #fanfiction #fanfic #writing fanfic #music #listening to music #angst #dies irae

[animentality]

I'm not sure if I should be on ADHD meds.

I got on them because I wanted to be able to focus and fix my sleep schedule and be a normal functioning human.

Instead I've been awake for three days straight, and I feel hollow.

I've been eating like half a meal a day even though I have literally been awake for three days straight.

And worse is that there is something undeniably missing from my brain.

Something is gone.

I don't feel so passionately anymore.

Is this what normal people feel?

No interest in anything, no strong feelings for weird stuff, no crazy obsessions that give you the addictive joy of being alive?

Something is gone and I don't like it.

I don't feel right.

This isn't me.

I might've been crazy before but the crazy was fun.

The feeling that I have to research every instance of the dies irae in cinema right here and now, in this chilis, or my obsession with plague doctors that would keep me up at night, googling beak designs, or the need to read a hundred fanfics about an obscure video game character, whose video game I never even played.

I also feel like I can't write properly anymore. Like I can type up words, but the ferocity isn't there.

There's no edge, there's nothing for me to express, because I don't feel anything.

I really don't like these meds.

Not sure if I should swap to better meds or just give up and accept that ADHD is going to ruin half my life, while making the other half worth living.

#adhd

[iamafanofcartoons]

Adam Taurus is a classic example of 

"I hate this character who's kind of an ***hole way more than I hate the actually evil villain" 

 Except this time both characters are the same guy.

Most people have probably not met a terrorist freedom fighter irl, so those crimes are like completely detached from reality for them.

On the flip side tho, almost everyone knows some possessive creepy dude who feels entitled to the women he dates, so it's a much more relatable level of evil.

Also?

Sienna was very clear about not liking the whole plan with Beacon, dividing the world, and all that bad stuff. 

Not to mention the whole "making faunus look like violent murderers" deal he had going on, which he tried to pass off as being inspired by Sienna's "Mess with one faunus, and you mess with all of us" approach.

You should see how some people tried to “fix” sienna khan.

Yeah, This is why I do not like fixit fanfics. They don’t get that edgelord = ***hole AND villain.

The fact that people were talking about him getting a redemption arc back when he was a mass murder who killed innocent people but said he deserved to die when he became an angry incel stalker…

I don’t get people.

A misguided Freedom Fighter wouldn't go out of their way to get civilians killed and that is exactly what Adam did in his introduction. We've got to remember that the only reason given for him not wanting to remove the civilians off of the train, is that he didn't want to.

This is even worse when we consider real life terrorist groups like the IRA who in the past had tremendous public support because they went out of their way to minimize civilian casualties! 

This means that not only did Adam not have a reason to not rescue those civilians, he actually had an incentive to do so but he just decided that he didn't want to!

But for the sake of discussion let's assume that the crew is made up of humans and this is something that Adam knows... why should that matter? These are civilian non-combatants and there is nothing to suggest that they couldn't rescue these people.  Adam simply chooses not to despite how doing so could only help the cause.

How then can Adam be a freedom fighter if he allows innocent civilians to die for no reason other than personal satisfaction?

Let's imagine for a second that the day Adam first joined the White Fang he walked up to Ghira (a pacifist) and declared that he has no interest in equality, what he really wants is enslave Humanity and kill a bunch of them along the way to Supremacy... what do you think would happen?

The obvious answer is that they would immediately kick him out of the group, Adam has to lie and hide who he really is if he wants to advance his goal. That doesn't mean that his character is contradictory, it just means that there's a layer of deception to how he presents himself. He is wearing a metaphorical mask and the show uses the introduction to lift up that mask and gives us a very quick peek of the Man underneath it.

“But Adam said in V3 about revolution?”

Think about it, if he really didn't want his men dying for a human cause then why didn't he run away? He had the perfect opportunity to do so after Cinder showed up as a student since she and her crew can't be at Beacon and Mt Glenn at the same time. And then of course we cannot forget the chaos following The Breach which would have also provided him the perfect exit but what did he do instead?

“Will your men still be willing to work with us? A lot of the White Fang died in the tunnels”-Cinder

“No, but they’ll listen to me”-Adam

Instead of fleeing when he had the chance, he approached Cinder and offered to continue the partnership. If she was someone who truly cared about equality then this would make absolutely no sense since attacking innocent civilians with the Grimm would have not helped with that goal, it would have actually made things worse between the two races. But if his actual goal is a race war... then it all makes sense.

It wasn’t about the cause, it was about getting back at those who wronged him. And Blake’s been “wronging” him the most lately, hence the obsessive stalking.

“But what about Cinder forcing Adam to cooperate?”

There's a lot of people under the impression that the Huntsman way of life is different from a civilian's. Sure, the nature of the mindsets are different but the basic principles are close to identical.

If a mugger points a gun at a civilian's face, the dude does what he's told if he doesn't want to be shot. If a Huntsman is borne down on by a Huntress who has an insurmountable amount of killing power available in comparison to them?

Adam was playing along 'cause he don't want to be smoked, sure, but it does help that what he's asked to do makes humans wake the frick up in fear...

True he didn’t want to do mostly because it was a human idea. He doesn’t mind attacking humans but he wasn’t really aiming for beacon until cinder pointed him that way.

Tbf, one is Adam being an edgy terrorist, the other is Adam being an edgy incel.

It's like edgy icing on edgy cake.

#adam taurus #rwby fnki #fnki #rwby memes #rwby character analysis #celtic phoenix #fix it fanfics #rwby #rwby adam #rwby v2 #rwby volume 2 #rwby volume 3 #rwby v3 #iamafanofcartoons

[re-diesirae]

Heyo! Faith here, authro od RevDI. If you like how I write and you enjoyed Part I, II and so far part III of this series, then you might be interested in my Death Island Reimagined (with mostly Cleon stuff) This is aDiscord Server exclusive, so come join us if you like! If you're interested, DM for the invite.

Check out my fics:

PART I and II (COMPLETED)

PART III (ONGOING)

#claire redfield #cleon #leon x claire #claire x leon #resident evil #leon s kennedy #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing #death island #resident evil death island #Shameless advertising

[the-catmans-blog-offical]

More unfinisjed sketches because I really dont have the energy to do lineart. Might try and find a loop for that later by *only* drawing lineart with the next things I do. Idk

These are the modern AU concepts, I just kinda sketched things out idk.

Heres some things I should clairify:

- Envy and Sloth (didnt draw sloth) are the eldest out of those that go to school; Pride, Nina, and Elicia are the youngests.

- Canon ages dont apply here for the most part, due to this being an AU, so their ages may be different than what is typically set in canon. (In most my AUs or whatnot, I make Ed 12-13 for example. But in this AU hes 14, still a few months older than Ling.)

- Greed and Ling are twins because I thought I would be a funny concept, I believe I first saw this concept in a fanfic on ao3; I dont remember the exact fanfic if there was one.

- Not all the "homunculis" (they arent that in the au obv) are related. The tattoos are more like a group symbol for them and their group of buddies basically. But, that being said, most of them are related. Also, for this au, I will not being doing shipping of any of the homunculis just because they arent related in this AU. Thats weird as hell, because theyre canonically related and im not creating loop holes for this AU to ship siblings and/or cousins (so that means no shipping them with Ed or Al as well even though they arent related in this AU.)

- Ira/Wrath from the 2003 anime is here bc they dont get enough love.

- I'm mixing elements from the manga, brotherhood anime, and the 2003 anime all together to get this shit storm so this'll be fun.

- Maybe Hughes dies in this au idk yet.

- Everyone who either ends up with a physical disability or had one at one point in the animes/manga will have those disabilities. (E.g. Roy is fully blind, he cant see light or dark; Its just nothingness. Havoc is paralyzed from the legs down. Ed , Paninya, Wrath (if I say wrath I mean 2003 wrath), and Den (the dog) all have prosthetics, the prosthetics look all the same or similar in the sketch but when I work on ref pics they will be different. Like how Paninya is wearing running prosthetics in the pic. Al has chronic pains and needs to use crutches or a cane to properly get around with the least amount of pain (just like me frfr), hes also malnurished to an extreme. And probably some other things, idk yet these are just the first ideas.

- Roy and Riza are Ed, Al, and Wrath's adoptive parents; The reasoning behind this would be because of Izumi and Sig's scary rep they'd probably not be able to adopt them, as well as Izumi's temper. That being said, I love Izumi and Sig so they're more of tutors or aunt and uncle to the elric siblings. I also just like the parental roy and riza thing to Ed and Al, so this is part of that.

- Ed is trans ftm, btw. I love the hc of that and im trans too so maybe im just projecting. I'll discuss sexualities and gender identies for each character with the ref pics, this is what I got for now.

- Ed and Al have a locket (supposed to be like the watch in the show but Al has one.) With a picture of their mother, but Al has a pic of Trisha and Hoenhiem on either side of the locket; Whereas Ed has only one side with Trisha and the other is the carved out "Dont forget Oct 7th xx"

That's it for now, if anyones got any questions I'll gladly answer them!:)

#fma au #fmab au #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist #fma brotherhood #fmab #fma #fma 03

[toskarin]

I got into F/SN because of fanfic of questionable quality.

ah! a dies irae fan!

[wilygryphon]

Ragnarok de Dies Irae (Kingdom Hearts Fic Idea)

I had the idea for a Post-KH3 Kingdom Hearts fanfic a few years ago, but I am currently in no place to start writing it (due to having two big stories ongoing, although I did start on an introductory chapter as a taste a while back). I outlined a bunch of ideas for myself, and I'm throwing them up here for you to see. And, if someone is interested in writing it and wants to collab with me and my ideas, I'll leave the door open.

Premise:

Centuries ago, the World was flooded with darkness and divided.  Recently, a fabrication of the x-blade was forged, then destroyed.  The walls between worlds shattered and many worlds were pulled into darkness.  A world made of darkness materialized, and a door between the Realms of Light and Darkness materialized, then was sealed, and the dark world dissolved and the worlds returned to light, though some remained asleep.  A Kingdom Hearts made out of captured hearts was created, then blown to bits, only for a world to be generated within it and destroyed.  Then, two Keyblade Wielders harrowed the Realm of Sleep.  While this happened, one man generated a time loop to enact his plans.  One of the wielders bent reality and time to resurrect the dead.  Finally, Kingdom Hearts was summoned and corrupted, then purified.  The fabric of the worlds was bent again to save one more person, and the savior was taken in her place.

Reality is fragile.  Too much abuse will tear holes in space and time.  That has happened.  Delicate barriers protecting the worlds from dangerous forces have come undone, and powerful entities have begun to make their way here.  These gods have been sealed off for a reason, and now their very presence threatens the worlds.

Riku and Kairi are still recovering from the loss of Sora, with Kairi turning to the gym and vigilantism to vent her frustration.  Donald and Goofy mourn as well, though Donald is trying to hide it.  Roxas, Axel, Xion, Isa, Aqua, Terra, and Ventus are still trying to put the pieces back together and figure their lives out from here on in.  Naminé is still getting used to the crowd and having friends.  The Radiant Garden Restoration Committee, now aided by Ansem and his apprentices, are putting their town back together stronger than ever before.  Four recompleted Nobodies gather, wanting to uncover the mysteries of their lost past.  And the Foretellers, excluding Ava, now guided by Luxu, are preparing the future that their Master once saw, while Maleficent and Pete observe from a distance.

Master Yen Sid detects a series of anomalies in the worlds and reaches out to Mickey and Aqua to alert them.  They tell Riku, and Kairi asks to come along, wanting to contribute and not feel useless.  Searching Dwarf Woodlands, they face strange new monsters and a hostile mirror demon.  Kairi breaks down, because while she finally gets to explore a new world, Sora is not by her side.  When she is pulled into a mirror by the demon and sees Sora’s Heartbinder, then hears his voice when she touches it, she begins to have faith that Sora can be found.  Sharing their findings with Yen Sid, the sorcerer advises that they gather their allies and search the worlds for information on the anomalies.  He also grants permission to search for Sora, though he prohibits the use of complicated measures (a la the Power of Waking which doomed him in the first place) to do so.

Cut back to six months ago.  Sora wakes up in the middle of a traffic intersection in a strange city.  He tries to get help from passerby, but they do not react to his presence, as if he were a ghost.  As he wanders, he is watched by several winged figures and a mysterious man in a black coat.  The Reapers speculate on what could have brought him to Shibuya, since he does not seem to have entered the UG in the usual way.  Regardless, they elect to put him into the Reapers’ Game to keep under close watch.

#kingdom hearts #ragnarok de dies irae #kh rddi #kingdom hearts fic idea #post kh3 #basically a kingdom hearts iv story #takes plot points revealed after kh3 in broad strokes or drops some altogether #i also had this idea before a lot of lore had been revealed so there's that #kingdom hearts au

[klondiketales]

What’s wrong?

Nothing.

How come it’s not working?

I’m just tired.

It’s okay, we can try again tomorrow. I brought your bath stuff.

Oh, good.

You didn’t throw up today.

I guess I’m getting better.

I knew it. I knew you would get better. I love you.

I love you, too.

#dies irae #fanfic #i’m sure i deserve this #cw #rape

[societyofsaintignacio]

Lizard, Notebook, Candle?

🦎: Who is your most untrustworthy OC? Why?

The most obvious answer is Istrakath and that's largely because he's a demon.

📓: Share 7 lines of a WIP of your choice.

This is from chapter 11 of my fanfic As Good As Gold:

“There were times where Seraphita hated confession but was compelled to go to it regardless and this was one of those times. She felt cornered by the priest and told him about her impurity, about her tendency to touch herself, but omitted that her impure thoughts always involved him. Once again, she knew that she should have been more honest but would it have been wise to tell him that she fantasized about the two of them deflowering each other?

His soothing words washed over her and Seraphita relished how soft his voice sounded in the confessional versus when he was preaching or talking in his normal volume. She found herself not being able focus and only half listened. He mentioned something about a demon of lust and how a Church Mother battled with sexual impurity for thirteen years and Seraphita was sharply brought out of her thoughts.

"I see." She said and hoped that that was a good enough answer.”

🔥: Describe the main conflict of your WIP.

In Dies Irae, our narrators and their companions are called to purge a small town of demonic forces of mysterious origin. In time they discover that a long forgotten demon, Istrakath, has returned from exile in search of a human vessel so he can properly cross over and remain in the living world and has set his sights on one of their own to accomplish this goal.

#random wip ask game #im so bad for not answering asks #sorry #anon ask

[voteforintensepuppets]

I’ve just finished rereading the first multi-chapter fanfic I had ever written. I finished it almost exactly five years ago today. It was something I threw myself into after starting college with no friends and having my grandmother die.

I’ll admit, there’s a lot I would change—flesh out this, take out that. I don’t think I completely had a grasp on how to explain the characters’ motivations without completely writing out, “This character wants to do X because of Y.” And I’ve grown a lot in my personal beliefs, and I’m no longer writing as an 18/19-year-old. In the years since, I’ve thought about deleting it or completely rewriting it, though I haven’t brought myself to that point because deep down I was too attached to it.

But you know what? There’s a lot I’m proud of, and I put a shit-ton of work into that thing. And I did it all my first year of college. At this point, I’m proud that I could even finish it. I remember having so much fun doing it, even wrote part of it in my classes, and I treated myself by visiting the places I’d been using as references. I researched and learned a lot. It was an experience that I feel made me better.

I made a New Year’s Resolution to finish one fic that I’ve started and never finished. Just one. I know it’ll be hard, especially considering I’m also a graduate assistant, and I should be working on my thesis. But I want to do it. If baby me could finish that—write all 200,000 words that I did for it—I can most certainly do it now.

Georgia Hardstark, host of My Favorite Murder, which is my favorite podcast, said in an episode, “You don’t have to be perfect, you just have to fucking do things.” I’ve quit a lot of pieces out of extreme anxiety, but something about returning to academia (where everyone wants to be perfect and assholes about it) has really made me want to say fuck it.

So that’s what 2022 is: no perfection, just fucking doing things. I’m sitting down with my Ethan Hawke mug now, and if I write a sentence, it’s something I didn’t have before.

#the fanfic fuck it of 2022 #if anyone reads this I hope you find something in Georgia’s quote #here’s to y’all’s fics #fanfic #mag7 #dies irae #ding dong ditch #newsies

[gerceval]

Bip bip c'est le questionnaire surprise de l'anon

Evidemment n'y répond que si tu en as envie 🙂

1° Personnage(s) préféré(s) ?

2° Ship(s) préféré(s), si tu en a un (pas obligatoire) ?

3°Dynamique(s)/ Paire(s)/ relation(s) préférée(s) (amis/famille/ennemies/Brotp etc) ?

4° Des OCs dont tu aimes parler ?

5° N'importe quoi qui t'intéresse +++ dans Kaamelott ?

6° Plutôt angst ou fluff ?

7° Ton anniversaire ?

Merci beaucoup et bonne journée à toi 🤍

coucoouu anon !

1 - oh ben vous me connaissez, arthur stan n°1 je l'ai enfanté moi même

2 - hm je sais pas si j'ai un pref pref mais prob arthur/venec

3 - j'aime bien friends to lovers, et j'aime bien aussi enemies to lovers dans le concept, mais vu que j'en ai jamais écrit et que je lis quasi pas de fanfic j'ai pas trop eu l'occasion d'explorer ce truc là, MAIS un jour je ferai un aelis/demetra des familles parce que ce concept n'est-il pas incroyable ?

4 - j'ai déjà dit quelque part que j'étais pas très très OC mais quand même en vrai... morlen... @umi-klouh où es-tu mon unique lectrice potentielle si je voulais faire un spin off sur morlen mdr j'adore cet enfant

5 - plus le temps passe plus la s6 est numéro 1 dans mon cœur, le truc du héros orphelin/bâtard, les trucs de manipulation politique, l'ambiguité de l'histoire d'amour, les trucs anti-colonialistes, et me lancez même pas sur la séquence du rêve dans dies irae

6 - hmmm angst

7 - 1er mars 😎

merci à toi anon t'es cute

#kaamelott #ask game #fandom #p #m #anon #réponses

[abuelitnt]

Mi experiencia con Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai

A pesar de que no casi nunca publico nada en Tumblr, solo lo uso para informarme de mis cosas favoritas... de alguna forma, necesito expresar lo que me hizo este manga y considero que este es el mejor lugar... quizás a nadie le importe lo que opine alguien que no está familiarizada con el género BL sobre esta historia, pero, de todas maneras, quiero desahogarme, sacar todas las sensaciones por las que me hizo y me hace pasar esta historia.

Lo que pienso del BL y yaoi

Como les dije anteriormente, no soy para nada fan del género BL ni del Yaoi, a pesar de que cuando era más joven me ponía leer fanfic yaois de Slam Dunk, pero siempre era fiel a una autora. Después quise avanzar hacia el manga, pero me di cuenta de que me parecían historias que son cortadas con la misma tijera, protagonistas que en apariencia uno toma el rol masculino y el otro el femenino. De los pocos que he leído, siempre me decepcionan en ese aspecto y no me dan ganas de seguir leyendo. Además, si quiero ver una historia sobre amor homosexual entre hombres, quiero ver a dos hombres y ver como sienten el amor como hombres que son, no sé, quizás busco más cercano a la realidad, no lo sé... es mi problema. No digo que odie el género ni que sea malo, pero quizás deba escarbar mucho para encontrar algo que me agrade, como me pasó con Given y Links de Natsu Kizu (me encanta como retrata las relaciones humanas) y la saga de Doukyusei de Asumiko Nakamura (me gusta como construye la relación de los protagonistas, además me gusta lo cursi). Tampoco lo tomen como una crítica al género, solo quiero establecer un punto para que logren dimensionar el impacto que tiene Saezuru para alguien que tiene esta opinión del género al cual pertenece

¿Cómo encontré Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai?

Como no soy muy fan de género, ni siquiera se cuáles son las historias más populares o las historias cumbres, por decirlo de alguna manera. Así que un día de febrero del 2021, buscando algo que leer debido a la pandemia, una cercana me dijo que lo leyera... me la describió y comencé a buscar información para ver de qué iba, pero en todo lo que encontraba había una palabra que se repetía y me detenía para comenzar a leerlo, masoquismo... y no me van a creer lo ingenua que fui al pensar que sería algo como 50 sombras de Grey (sí, ríanse...)

¿Qué me impulsó a leerlo?

Me puse a buscar las otras obras de Kou Yoneda, como NightS, Reply, Doushitemo Furetakunai y Soredemo, Yasashii Koi o Suru (las dos últimas, comprados de forma digital en inglés) y me parecieron muy buenas historias y con un precioso dibujo, ahí sí sentía que estaba viendo a lo que estaba buscando, pero también sentía que para nada eran cercanos a lo que es Saezuru, quizás NightS, ya que ambas se ambientan en el bajo mundo, pero sabía que no eran similares. Hasta que encontré los dos oneshot que inician Saezuru, Don't Stay Gold y Tadayoedo Shizumazu, Saredo Naki mo Sezu, especialmente el último y eso me dio el impulso para seguir y saber cómo era el futuro de Yashiro

¿Qué me impulsa a expresar mis sentimientos hacia Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai?

Hace mucho tiempo que no sentía que una historia me impulsara a buscar toda la información posible, todas las opiniones posibles, en fin, a buscar todo lo que tuviera que ver con esa historia. Este sentimiento, esta hambre de saber cosas, por así decirlo, me había pasado cuando compré mi primer manga, Card Captor Sakura de CLAMP, cuando comencé seguir semanalmente Naruto de Masashi Kishimoto y Bleach de Tite Kubo, cuando leí y vi Emma de Kaoru Mori y la última vez fue cuando vi y leí Versalles no Bara de Riyoko Ikeda y eso fue hace 11 años (calculen mi edad, además de sonreír con la referencia de Yashiro al ending de ese anime en el primer capítulo) y querer expresarlos, compartir opiniones con otras personas que lo siguen... me gusta sentir esto, me hace sentir como si aun tuviera tantas cosas que descubrir en el mundo del manga

¿Qué me parece la historia?

Simplemente me voló la cabeza, en esa frase se puede resumir, tiene todo lo que podía pedir en una buena historia. La trama yakuza es un gran trasfondo, además de apasionante e interesante, le da un gran marco para los personajes que están en ese mundo. Puedes ver como la intriga y las ganas de ascender a cualquier costo, incluyendo traicionar a lo que están más arriba de tú en esta jerarquía tan difícil de modificar y el precio que debes pagar si te descubren, Yoneda logra plasmar muy bien ese teje maneje, sin dejar de mencionar que no se guarda nada, muestra lo violento que puede ser ese mundo... bueno, eso es al menos en la primera parte ¿Que nos deparará la segunda? Quizás se avecine una guerra entre grupos por conflictos de intereses, venganzas de un grupo a otro... no lo sabemos

Los personajes también son un gran punto a favor, con jefes que son conscientes de su poder, sabiendo que hacer en el momento preciso, siempre pensando más allá y ver lo que es mejor para sus intereses a futuro, asegurándose de que las personas que tengan a su lado sean realmente leales a ellos, y si no lo son, solo pregúntele a Hirata, me encanta ese juego de ajedrez que comienzan a jugar. Algunos subordinados que son tan leales que son capaces de dar su vida por su kashira, o incluso de mantener lejos cualquier cosa que lo moleste o cumplir el más mínimo de sus caprichos, además de cumplir con sus órdenes. Ese tipo de características me atraen a saber más de ellos, de que me importe los que le vaya a pasar en el futuro. No es que me sienta identificada con ellos, es que me gusta mucho su dinámica, si les llega a pasar algo a ellos, me sentiría mal por su jefe

Los protagonistas... ¿Qué puedo decir de ellos?

A Yashiro, lo amo y lo odio con la misma intensidad. Lo amo porque es perfecto, es guapo, inteligente, astuto, gracioso, tiene una personalidad magnética, te atrae, quizás esa sea la forma de la armadura que creó para poder sobrevivir todo este tiempo, además te gustaría saber más de él, saber en qué piensa (sobre todo ahora, que no hemos tenido acceso a sus pensamientos en mucho tiempo) y qué siente frente a ciertas situaciones. Tenía todo para ser alguien exitoso en la vida, pero su traumático pasado cortó todo eso, es un sobreviviente y es resiliente, eso es lo que tenía que hacer para seguir adelante en ese mundo en el que fue prácticamente obligado a entrar y estaba bien con eso, estaba conforme y cómodo en la posición en que lo encontramos en el inicio del manga, hasta que le pasan dos cosas, el ofrecimiento de Misumi de escalar en la yakuza y la llegada del ser más adecuado para él, diría que su sombra y ahí su armadura comienza a romperse poco a poco y logramos ver ese lado vulnerable que siempre quiso esconder y vemos a un persona que aún no es capaz de superar verdaderamente sus traumas pasados, incapaz de sanar sus heridas, además de no poder aceptar que alguien lo ame tan profundamente, que le muestra una nueva forma del amor y de no saber qué hacer con sus sentimientos hacia ese alguien, me encanta verlo así, me encanta que lo saquen de su zona cómoda, pero lo odié cuando quiso rearmarse, cuando quiso quitarse todo lo que lo volvía débil, quizás volver a refugiarse en una posición que lo volviese invulnerable nuevamente. También lo odio cuando quiere llevarse todo el peso (recuerdo las palabras del inicio del capítulo 33 "Él no necesitaba nada ni a nadie"), siendo incapaz de confiar en las personas, cosas que aún no puede superar, siempre acostumbrado a hacerlo todo solo...

A Doumeki, lo amo con todo el corazón. Tiene una personalidad tan tranquila, pero de alguna forma te hace sentir segura cuando estás a su lado, además de observador con todo lo que le rodea al objeto de su afecto (darse cuenta del amor de su jefe hacia Kageyama y el afecto de Ryuuzaki hacia su patrón). Yashiro se ve que al principio se podía relajar con él, ya que puede reír con todas las ganas posibles, en algún momento, creo que a él le gusta escuchar cómo se ríe, a pesar de que sea a su costa, además de que no él se inmutaba cuando su jefe intentaba darle placer, aun sabiendo de su impotencia. Pero después del atentado hacia su jefe, la intensidad de su amor comenzó a crecer junto con la incomodidad de su kashira con sus honestas declaraciones y su inquebrantable lealtad y después con sus acciones. Cualquiera estará feliz de tener a alguien que te ame tanto como él ama a Yashiro, de hacerle saber de qué a pesar de que lo trate como trate, siempre estará para él, que no está solo si está con él. Es capaz de arriesgarlo todo, capaz de denigrarse, de torcerse a sí mismo si eso significa poder quedarse al lado de la persona que ama, pero me alegro que se haya dado cuenta que su amor por él también era peligroso, que significaba una carga a Yashiro si seguía a su lado, además de sentir su rechazo. Independientemente si su kashira le corresponde de la misma forma o no, siempre lo echaría de su lado porque Yashiro no está dispuesto a renunciar a la imagen que ha construido todo ese tiempo para sí mismo, a todo lo que ha creído todo ese tiempo… Además, carga con el hecho de haberlo herido por el solo hecho de haberle hecho el amor, creo que nunca olvidará esas lágrimas…

¿Qué espero del capítulo 44?

Ojalá Yashiro le diga no, pero mientras más releo el manga, más convencida estoy que le dirá que sí, porque él ha estado intentando olvidarse de él por más de 4 años, aunque haya sido en vano (su imagen en su mente puede haberse vuelto borrosa, pero los sentimientos siguen ahí presentes y persistentes) ¿Qué mejor declaración de intenciones hacia Doumeki que aceptar su propuesta para que se de cuenta que ya no siente nada por él? También, él esta enojado por lo que le dijo, se puede dejar llevar por esa ira y cuando estamos bajo ese efecto, nos podemos arrepentir de lo que decimos en ese momento. ¿Y qué haría Doumeki frente a esa respuesta? Lo rechazaría… Algo que me ha estado dando vueltas es el compromiso que le hizo en el auto antes de que fueran a buscar a Hirata, que no le haría nada, perfectamente le puede reafirmar eso, diciendo que nunca más lo tocará y se lo diría de la forma más sensual posible, ya que este muchacho está celoso y esa es una forma de herirlo, dejarlo con las ganas, ahora que Doumeki evita cualquier contacto físico directo debido a sus guantes… no sé…

Pero como bien saben, soy nueva en esta historia y se que lo más veteranos se han llevado cada sorpresa con este manga… veamos como sigue, ya no falta mucho…

Conclusiones

En pocas palabras, este manga me ha hechizado como hace tiempo no lo hacía una historia… para mi es fácilmente uno de los mejores mangas que he leído a lo largo de mi vida, además de cambiar la forma en que leo mis mangas, porque este sí que me ha hecho trabajar mi mente.

Se que quizás esta especie de declaración no la lea nadie, ya que está muy larga, pero me conformo con haber sacado todos mis pensamientos con respecto a Saezuru

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #saezuru #yoneda kou #twittering birds never fly #doumeki chikara #yashiro #Pajaro que trina no vuela