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toukenramblings · 3 years

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Modern AU: House Husband!Kasen Kanesada

I WON’T LIE THAT I THOUGHT ABOUT HOUSE HUSBAND KASEN A LOT DURING WORK LMAO. ENJOY

Warnings: Sfw+Nsfw, BAD POETRY

SFW

Kasen is no doubt an early riser, but more so along the lines of reluctant riser. He values his sleep no doubt, and will mumble and grumble as he slowly opens his eyes and wakes up. Kasen is also a kind of man who needs caffeine (tea or coffee, depends on what he’s feeling like at the time and his coffee has to be extra sweet with a cute little whipped cream swirl on top, don’t ask) to fully function. He’s sluggish when he wakes up. A kiss will be just as nice as his morning drink too! He will flush when you give him a morning kiss but will happily kiss you back before telling you to go brush your teeth.

Kasen is also pretty damn good at cooking. Will also stylize his dishes and post them to social media. But he is also posting poetry, aesthetically pleasing shots, and hes that one aesthetic blog on social media or something. His captions on food pics aren’t flashy or anything of the sort, it’s just a mere post and maybe a lil haiku in the description of how proud he is to have made it, or something of the sort!

Most of the posts on his social media are beautiful shots of you, framing your gorgeous self and of course the caption is just a poem that spans like 50 pages of how much he loves you.

When he gets up, he’ll help you chose your clothes for work! Most of the time it’s done the night before, set out on your desk or something.

Your lunch always has a little note tucked into it, most likely a poem of encouragement.

Date nights are always consisting of book reading, poetry writing, or dance nights! It doesn’t have to be out of the house but if it is, damn right is Kasen going to look BEAUTIFUL. Will make sure you two have matching outfits. Also adores it when you two match, wittingly or not!

Is not shy about sharing clothing with you. Sure perhaps it’s smaller/bigger for him to wear but who the hell cares???? He loves you and damn right he will show it off! Flushes when you wear his clothing and will shyly admit that he adores it.

Kasen is a bit of a shopaholic. He also has a bit of a habit of impulse buying things: stuff you like, stuff he likes, matching items for you two to wear together. Hell shopping dates are common between you two! Sure Kasen will try to steal the bags from you and forbid you from holding his stuff but it's just showing that he cares. You're his muse after all, don’t be surprised if he suddenly stops at a random store with clothing he thinks suits you! He will drop everything and drag you inside to see if anything will suit you!

Will 100% show up at your workplace to bring you lunch personally, your coworkers cannot help but be enamored with your husband, his elegance, how he walks, how he is cordial with everyone he meets but almost lights up when he sees you. Everyone teases you at work that you have such a cute husband who always leaves you with a peck on your cheek and lunch - Kasen probably has a side business of making poems to help people confess/make their partner happy!

The only PDA you’re getting from Kasen is hand-holding and cheek kisses, that’s that. Ain’t no one allowed to see your happy little face when you two kiss. You surprising him with PDA on the other hand will end him, flushed face, turns away, mumble something that it’s inappropriate before diving in to give you a taste of your own medicine.

NSFW

Shibari. Lingerie. Whatever the hell. Kasen adores a sense of beautiful elegance and will not hesitate to pick out some lingerie for you, taking in how your body is made/shaped, colors that suit you, material, what you like, so on and so forth! He’s...a regular at this one sex shop. The cashier knows Kasen by name and they regularly have debates on what kind of stuff you should wear.

Though if you surprise him with picking out something yourself Kasen will be just as happy to see you like that! Not before wanting to make you into a sobbing fucked out mess but he loves it when you have something underneath your clothing!

Sexting consists of nothing but long ass poems of EXACTLY what Kasen will do to you that night. It’s like 60 pages long but it’s WORTH IT. If you’re lucky, you’ll sometimes see HIM in lingerie, sending you naughty little pictures of what he’s wearing. And then there are audio clips that are like just him reading his naughty poetry to you. He won’t send videos often but when they do, HOOOO BOI.

“Your lips are of liquor, for even a glance at them gets me drunk. A flush against your cheeks, roses cascading down your form, dipping under the twine and silk that dares to bar my way.

“Forever let me stay within your heart, your breast, your soul, they beat as one. Our hands collide, fingers seeking with earnest, I never want to leave you.”

“Paint your body white, forever with my dear love, I am enamored.”

Nothing but body worship here my friends. Kasen will draw out paintings and poems with his tongue on your skin if he must. Hickies are placed only in the most intimate of places. He doesn’t mind marking up your neck, oh no! It’s fine but this is an art piece that only he is allowed to see.

And then we get to his tongue. He is a poet, he has a silver tongue, he knows how to use that damn thing. Will adore it when you two suck on each other’s fingers.

You two are fucking in the bedroom, that’s it. You two can tease each other all you want around the house, but the bedroom is a sacred place. He won’t lie that he hasn’t thought about fucking you in his studio/office but is also worried of making a mess. So that’s more or less off of the table.

Your wedding night was nothing short of slow and lovely, Kasen wouldn’t even initiate the act until much later. You two would just lie there in a bed, kissing and tracing each other’s forms until you are satisfied. Oh so slow languid kisses shared, hands tangling in hair. Kasen would be slow, taking his time with you. He wants to savor that moment, when you two have sex the first time as a married couple; wanting to etch that into his body and memory.

Yes Kasen might have a slight oral fixation, but you look me in the eye and tell me gagging Kasen wouldn’t be a cute as fuck sight. He never wants to be blindfolded though, he has to see you!! No way are you hiding your beautiful form from him!

Aftercare is so tender and sweet, his hands would massage every joint and every inch of your body, pressing sweet kisses and whispering praises. A bottle of water, and of course, making sure that you two are clean - bed sheets too. Gonna change those no matter how tired he is.

#touken ranbu #touken danshi #touken ranbu x reader #sin bin #my writing #touken ranbu imagine #tkrb #tkrb x reader #tkrb imagine #kasen kanesada #kasen kanesada x reader #kasen kanesada imagine #IM PROUD OF THESE KASEN HEADCNAONS PLS LIKE THEM

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highlyycaffeinated · 3 years

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blog info tag

thanks for the tag @ecle-c-tic 🥺💕 sorry this is so delayed lol i’ve been a lil distracted & behind on things

1. why did u choose your url?

i know i’ve mentioned this on multiple occasions but i got the idea from seeing a to-go cup that said “currently caffeinating” and thought it was funny considering the amount of caffeine i consume on a daily basis. and thus... my url was born.

2. any side blogs? if u have them, name them and why u have them

i don’t have any side blogs. I had a different blog like 8 or so years ago but i forgot the account info and then created this blog a few years ago to replace it.

3. how long have u been on tumblr?

i think i got an email recently that said it’s been 5 years. i didn’t start using it consistently until about 2 years ago tho.

4. do u have a queue tag?

usually everything in my queue is tagged *putting my life on queue* but i don’t put a lot of things in there at once. most of the time, i put things in my queue if i’m feeling really depressed and don’t have the energy to be on here much.

5. why did u start your blog in the first place?

honestly, i’m not really sure. i use tumblr because no one in my family or close friends use it and it gives me the opportunity to express the interests that i don’t share with any of them. this is where i share my music taste and my undying love of specific albums lol.

6. why did u choose your icon?

um... hello? have u all seen it? because it is adorable. sir ellie and his teddy bear is pure gold and i love it so much so of course i had to make the pic my icon.

7. why did u choose your header?

because i am a human disaster and i need the world to know that.

8. what’s your post w/ the most notes?

idk where the specific post is on my blog since it’s from a long time ago but the last time i saw someone reblog it it had 7,000 notes i think.

9. how many mutuals do u have?

105

10. how many followers do u have?

454

11. how many people do u follow?

360

12. have u ever made a shitpost?

um... maybe? idk what specifically counts as a shitpost so i’m not sure.

13. how often do u use tumblr each day?

usually it depends on the day. if i’m really bored or don’t want to work on things that i have to do then i’m on here more. ever since the pandemic i’ve been here a lot more, tho, especially during the time when my work was closed. i come on here more often early in the morning and at night since those are when i have the most free time.

14. did u have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

once. idk if it was a “fight” as much as it was me being taken advantage of & having my mental health seriously hurt in the process for kind of a long time until they finally left. i mean, i kind of let myself get taken advantage of sometimes so it’s sort of my fault. but idk. they made me feel horrible about myself constantly and then left so idk if anyone really won?

15. how do u feel about “u need to reblog this” posts?

i hate them so much. i especially hate ones that say that you’re a bad person if u don’t reblog them. honestly, i usually don’t read posts that are longer than a few short(ish) paragraphs or posts that are all images (with words on them) if they don’t have a image description at the end because it’s physically hard for me to read them since the way information is laid out is huge for me with my adhd.

16. do u like tag games?

yeah

17. do u like ask games?

yeah

18. which of your mutuals do u think is tumblr famous?

probably @boogiepilgrim for all the pure and wholesome ellie content that we love to see periodically.

19. do u have a crush on a mutual?

nah. i love all of my mutuals with my whole heart, but i don’t have a crush on any of them.

20. tags:

once again, anyone who wants to do this can feel free to say i tagged them.

#I just ask that u please don’t reblog this post to do it

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knightofthecourt · 4 years

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Love Bites - Chapter 7

Belatrice Gray was a TA at Belgrave University, working hard to stay on top of her marking and trying not to flunk her own studies, when a night out with her bff Randall and his roommates, changed everything.

Hamish Duke x OC fiction with fluff, romance and angst. OC description has been left out to allow for reader personalisation!

Hamish was awoken by the watery light streaming in through his bedroom window. He turned his head away from the intrusion, desperately chasing the last remnants of sleep.

He’d been having the most unusually vivid dream. The taste of Bela’s lemon-tinted lips on his, the sound of her gasping his name as he grasped the soft curve of her hip, the taste of flesh, flashes of blood.

His eyes flew open. He sat up suddenly, heart racing and looked around the room.

Next to his own unclothed form, there she lay, curled around his duvet, sleeping peacefully. His breathing slowed as his eyes traced her outline, searching for signs of injury.

There was no blood, no torn flesh, no sign of distress, but… he brushed aside a lock of hair, careful not to disturb her. On the patch of skin below the back of her neck, smooth and even, as if they’d been painted on, sat two faint red crescents. A bite mark.

Hamish’ stomach plummeted. It hadn’t been a dream, he’d lost control and he - well, Tundra - had bitten Bela last night. As he scanned the discoloured marks that marred the previously unblemished area he began to feel more and more uneasy. He could still feel the pressure of his teeth sinking into her neck, the taste, but this bite looked like it had healed years ago. It didn’t make sense.

Hamish rose from the bed, quickly and quietly and grabbed the closest outfit he could find. Bela wasn’t safe with him here, something was very wrong.

He needed to get to the Den, now.

- - - - -

“So, you didn’t bite her?”

Hamish raked a hand through his hair as he stared at Randall. “No, I- Tundra did. It’s like I couldn’t keep him out, I had no control.”

Lilith shook her head. “But it wasn’t there when you woke up? And Bela didn’t say anything?”

“What would she say,” Jack said, “Morning Hamish, I had a great time last night - by the way, did you turn into a werewolf and take a great big chunk out of my neck?”

“No,” Hamish said, “I told you, the bite had healed somehow and I left before she woke up.”

“Ooh,” said Jack “Maybe she’s some sort of vampire with superhuman healing abilities”.

Randall grinned, “Or a mutant, like Wolverine from X-Men.” He paused when he saw the look on Hamish’s face. “No, probably not a mutant. Definitely not a mutant... are you sure it happened? Maybe the mark is from something else - I fell asleep on a textbook after finals, had a line on my arm for three days.”

Hamish’s head throbbed as he looked across the room at Jack, Randall and Lilith. He’d been glad to find all three of them in the Den when he burst through the door half an hour ago, strewn across the living room. Judging from the state of the place, they were recovering from a beer pong session.

After they’d finished making comments about his uncharacteristically haphazard appearance and lack of tie, he’d managed to explain what had happened with Bela - the bite, blacking out after and waking up this morning with her still in one piece.

As he watched their conversation turn to the different ways they’d managed to injure themselves in their sleep, his mind drifted to the woman he’d left in his apartment. He wondered whether she’d found the note he’d left yet, a carefully crafted lie to explain his unexpected absence, propped against a glass of juice and packet of Advil on the bedside table. It took more willpower than he expected not to lean down and brush a kiss against her temple before he left, but he couldn’t risk waking her.

“Enough.” Hamish snapped, pulling the trio from their hungover musings. “This is serious. I’ve never seen anything like this, never even read about anything like it and… things have been different recently. I’ve been losing control. I’ve put Bela in danger - I’ve put all of you in danger.”

His three friends looked up at him, all traces of humour gone.

“Ok,” Randall said. He threw off the blanket and walked over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room. “Let’s hit the books then.”

- - - - -

“Wha-!” Hamish ducked as a leather bound volume went sailing past his head.

“How could you?” Lilith was furious, her face a mask of rage, eyes flashing between silver and brown in a kaleidoscopic blur.

Randall spun on his heels as Hamish regained his composure. “What the hell Lilith?”

“Without her consent Hamish? You mated with her without her consent?”

“Woah,” Jack chipped in from his perch on the stairs, “Even I know that’s wrong, dude.”

Randall spun back to Hamish, who looked baffled, and then held up his hands in an attempt to keep Lilith and Hamish apart.

“Haim,” he said, keeping one eye on Lilith, who was now shifting from foot to foot, as if readying herself to launch at their leader. “What did you do?”

Hamish raised his hands in defence. “Nothing. I asked before we were intimate. I would never...” He trailed off when Lilith let out a small snarl.

“I’m not talking about sex Hamish, you marked her - read the damn book.”

Hamish didn’t move. He looked stricken, the blood draining from his face.

Randall retrieved the book from the floor and opened it to the page Lilith had marked with a scrap of paper. “Though often depicted otherwise in folklore, most werewolves will never find a mate. Those who do are rare.” He began, glancing up at Hamish who had placed his head in his hands.

“Once a mate is identified the hide will compel the wearer to bond with their potential partner, before marking them as their own. This stage of the mating process is dangerous and, if the champion is not in control of the hide, often results in the death of their mate.”

Hamish swayed a little on his feet.

Randall continued. “Those who survive have little recollection of this process, though it is not known why. As well as providing a euphoric effect, the saliva produced by the wolf during mating causes the mark to heal quickly. The bond created through mating is irreversible and can only be severed by the death of the hide’s host, or the death of their mate. The benefits of mating include an incomparable sense of loyalty, enhanced resistance to magic and the ability to bear -”.

“Stop.” Hamish’s voice cracked. He lowered his hands from his ashen face.

Lilith was ready to punch something, or someone. “Loyalty?” she snarled, “It’s brainwashing Hamish. How could you do this to her? She’s our friend - you didn’t even give her a choice.”

Randall scoffed as he placed the book on the table next to the sofa. “Your friend, Lil? When was the last time you two hung out on your own.”

“Stop.” Hamish’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Well, apparently she’s going to be our new werewolf step mom or something so -”

“As if that makes you best friends. Wait a second - does that mean Hamish is our werewolf dad?”

“More like grandad,” Jack piped up.

“Urgh!” Lilith let out a wail of frustration and rounded on Randall, her eyes finally settling on silver discs. She growled again as her nails lengthened into claws.

“STOP!” For a brief second Hamish’s eyes flashed and his face contorted as a change washed over him, then he took a deep breath and the anger seemed to drain out of him. His shoulders slumped as he pushed past Randall and Lilith and sat heavily on the sofa.

Randall glanced at Lilith, eyes wide.

“I didn’t know any of this,” Hamish said, looking up at them. “I never would have gone near her if I’d known. And now I can’t... I can’t take it back. She could have died because of me - because I care about her and -” He broke off, placing his head once again in his hands.

Randall sat down next to Hamish and put a steadying palm on his back. “Bela is my friend,” he said, emphasising the word 'my' as he glared at Lilith. “You both are - I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. And she likes you, she really, really likes you, even without this mate stuff.”

Lilith looked at Hamish, her eyes clouded. “I’m sorry Haim, we’ll do whatever we can to help.”

“No.” Hamish stood suddenly, jerking away from Randall. “I need to stay away from Bela. I can’t undo what I’ve done but if I keep my distance maybe she’ll be safe. I can’t lose someone I love. Not again.” He strode out of the Den, slamming the door hard enough to rattle its hinges on his way out.

“Right,” Jack sighed from the stairwell, “good to know we have a solid plan.”

#the order #hamish duke #randall carpio #lillith bathory #hamish duke x reader #hamish duke x oc #the knights of st christopher #werewolf #love bites #the knights of saint christopher

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slexenskee · 3 years

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hihi do you have a faq? i've searched through your tumblr; maybe I haven't searched far enough (excellent taste in memes btw) but im SO INTERESTED in how you got so good at writing. like it blows my mind. did u go to school for writing? if you taught yourself, can you point a fellow writer to some resources you used? you're amazing and such an inspiration!!

ahhhhh what what THANK YOU?! I didn’t go to writing school and I don’t have a faq but what I can’t handle this thank youuuu

I feel like this is over used advice but honestly read a lot and write a lot. I have a google drive with over like 200 stories?? The majority of them aren’t finished, are just plain bizarre, or are just lil plot bunnies I had to word vomit out. I’ve read fic for like more than a decade at this point haha I bookmark writers I really like and the way some of them approach things or phrase things just sticks with me and I end up writing it into whatever I’m writing at the time and eventually you turn it around on your tongue enough that you make your own style if that makes sense?? From a technical standpoint I could stand to learn more real talk but I’m very visual so I’ll SEE a scene play out in my head and have to write it out, which is why I can get overly descriptive in some of my stuff for sure. Also why my writing is basically scene to scene with my sad attempts to tie it all together between them. That’s just my writing style and I have since learned to just live with it, so I guess that’s another thing-just like knowing how you operate. Some authors chart out their full course before starting and others like me just grab a glass of wine and say fuck it haha to each their own! I really like fic because most people just won’t give you shit for stuff, although some fandoms are better /nicer than others (shudders).

hmm for random things:

-I don’t like using the word ‘said’. I try not to as much as possible, instead like describing an action the character is doing instead.

“Hadrian.” She complains. “Honestly. Don’t you think you’re too old for this sort of behavior?”

Ah, and then he remembers why his ten year-old self would have rather ate his own hand then have his older sister nag him into being an assassin.

“Dealing with feelings in a mature manner is hardly indicative of age.” Hadrian retorts, and if his frown is moody and petty, she can’t see it anyway.

“Is this what we call maturity these days?” She laughs.

But okay also sometimes the ambiguity of said/says is part of the charm of using it so it really depends.

-Kind of on a related note, verbs water my crops and butter my toast. I get wayy to nitpicky and granular about them sometimes. THESAURUS.COM IS MY BEST FRIEND my writing tabs are always 1) the actual doc 2) my music 3) thesaurus.com usually in that order

- Music is also a huge part of getting into a scene or character. Like I can’t write a sad scene while listening to Descpacito you know? I have a lot of OSTs for this purpose from anime/ games/ movies.

- TONE. oh wow. Major shout out to the Hockey RPF fandom because first of all everyone in it is just so crazy talented but also the tone of the stories and kinda just the whole fandom was so intense and thematic. Idk how to describe tone really though. So I’ll try to explain it in an example 🤔

So the saga continues on Orion’s Massive Raging Dumpster Fire of a life™ and he still doesn’t see an end in sight, which means he might have to reevaluate his current situation. There are only so many surprise genetic relations he can take in any given decade before he needs to cut his fucking losses, man up to the mind-fuckery of those asshole polygraphers and visit the galaxy’s memory database.

He says this, and then procrastinates, as is his won’t in life, and then summarily ends up in a situation like this.

versus something like:

There are diamond lancets scattered around him. He remembers the pristine marble, the way the gloaming light burns across the surface. Sharp sissiles strewn over sparkling white, as if he lies in a pile of jewels in the sun.

His eyes drift upwards; the light is blinding, lashed and insatiable essences in glorious gold. Then there is the endless sky, dyed crimson with dusk, framed by the fractured teeth of stained glass. He knows this place; a cathedral lost in his memories.

Then there is brother, kneeling over him in his glittering sea of shattered glass; he is shouting, but Saiph cannot remember the words. His brother's eyes are wide and grave. He has always loved those eyes; the atmospheric color, the way it always reminds him of the freedom of open skies, or the crystalline calm surface of glaciers in the sun. He thinks he loses himself there somewhere, in the sky caught behind his eyes.

I’ve noticed for the more casual/funny tones I tend to stay in present tense (the fault of Hockey RPF, I swear I never used present tense until then and used to never have a problem accidentally switching tenses smh) but also for very dramatic ones too. It’s probably just me but I feel like it lends well to ‘train of thought/ very POV’ stuff like the first one, but also to really decisive and succinct scenes like the second?

Ah wow ok I’m gonna stop now. I hope this garbage dump was, at least in some small way, somewhat helpful. I’m so sorry I don’t have any links or like youtube masterclasses or anything 😓

#ask #writing

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bubble-tea-bunny · 5 years

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satellite

[peter parker x reader]

author’s note: reading you by caroline kepnes inspired me to play around w pov and try something a lil diff in style. had a lot of fun w it and i hope you enjoy! (kinda funny the last time i tinkered w pov it was also in a fic for ps4 peter ha)

word count: 2,929

It’s Aunt May’s suggestion that it would be good to give my eyes a break from staring at screens so much and for so long that initially gives me the idea to come here, but it’s the conversation I have with a stranger on the subway this morning about the book he’s reading that actually prompts me to stop by after work. I had every intention of seeking out that novel for myself; the description on the back cover about the story already sounded interesting, and the details shared by the man in the black beanie made it even more so. But I quickly realize how easy it is to get sidetracked in a bookstore, and instead of heading straight for crime and mystery, I’m strolling past comics and scanning the titles, first for ones I recognize so I can think to myself Hey, I know that! like we tend to do when we spot something we are familiar with and that little corner of our brain lights up at spotting what is thought to be long forgotten.

The pages of these graphic novels are glossy, smooth beneath my fingers, and the colors are bright and I see myself in several of them slinging webs through a cartoon New York, and yellow boxes in the corner of each panel are denoting the time of day and the current scene’s setting, and big words like BAM! and POW! punctuate every heavy hit and at the end of every strip, all of it is just another day for Spider-Man. I have to admit, it’s sort of surreal having comics about me. Not that they are technically about me. The alter ego in these stories is Nathaniel Patterson and he’s got blonde hair and blue eyes and he’s quite the looker.

I slide the comic with its shiny cover back into its spot on the shelf and I think I turned one of the pages wrong because the pad of my index finger stings like I’ve sliced it. My brows furrow as I check to see if I’m right, if it’s begun to bleed, and the smell of fresh books is strong, but the smell of strawberries is stronger.

I pause. I glance up and look for the source, and I’ve just missed it. Just missed you. I catch a glimpse of you continuing down the aisles, and you’re blocked from view by the tall shelves and there are no gaps through which to see you because they’re packed so snug with books but even if they weren’t, these types of shelves have a wall in the middle. I contemplate leaving it well enough alone, but the scent of my favorite fruit lingers in the air and it’s strangely strong to still be so apparent, like you’d been standing near me.

So I leave the comics and go in the direction you’d gone, glancing into each section and trying not to be obvious about it, obvious about the fact I’m looking for someone. I read a few of the titles in each aisle, and I’m taking them in, I am, since maybe along the way I’ll find a book I do want, but it’s done half in earnest because it is incredibly easy to get sidetracked in a bookstore.

Then I see you, in the set of shelves across from mine, a table in the space between us with staff picks for the month. You’re in crime and mystery and your nose is buried in a novel. I wonder what you’re reading. You flip through the pages, stop to read a paragraph or three, and flip through some more. When you’ve had your fill of that, you close the book and read the information on the back. It’s been chilly in New York lately so you’re in a sweater, and the sleeves slide over your hands as you grip the novel because they’re too long. You try to pull them up so the fabric bunches in the bend of your elbows, but it doesn’t work and they just droop back down.

For all my efforts of being subtle as I walked through the shop searching for you, I forget it when it’s most crucial, and I’ve stared too long and you look up and you notice me, and my stomach jumps at being caught and I probably seem like a creep. Nice one, Peter. Getting flustered around pretty girls is right up your alley.

I swallow, and I smile slightly to ease the awkwardness and show you I’m not being creepy, I swear, and the heavens are watching out for me because you smile back, lips shining with lip balm you’ve no doubt applied to protect them from the harsh wind outside. And I am melting. I’m melting like an ice cream cone in the summer and suddenly I want to ask what your favorite ice cream flavor is.

Your eyes slide from mine off to your left (my right) just for a second, before they meet mine again, and then return to the book in your hands. I can see the slight curl of your mouth as you turn to the bookshelf in front of you and put the book back, then continue reading the spines until one stands out and you pull it out to do the process all over again. But I’m caught up on what you had looked at fifteen seconds ago, for the briefest of moments, easy to miss but being me (being Spider-Man) has forced me to be more attentive, and I glance to my right (your left) and I see the bookshelf. My eyes slide up higher to the sign. I’m in romance.

My cheeks grow warm and you probably think I’m in this bookstore looking for love like the protagonist of half the novels on this shelf. You probably find it amusing, and I think you might even laugh if it weren’t so quiet in here, and I should be embarrassed but I’m not. I like the thought of making you laugh. Besides, I’m not in this bookstore looking for love. I’m in this store to find a specific book and if anything, love is looking for me. February’s months away and Cupid should be busy sharpening his arrows. Maybe I’m his test run?

You’re still at crime and mystery, still where I need to go, so I go there. In my peripherals I notice you glance at me and your gaze lingers, curious to see what book I’m going to pick up. I read the last name of every author, until I arrive at the one I want. There’s three copies remaining of the book I’d come to this shop for, and I grab the copy in the middle. All the while I’ve been trying to figure out how to start a conversation with you. I had planned to ask what book you’re holding right now, or if you had any suggestions. I would listen and pick up a few of the titles you say because I trust you have good taste.

However, I’m not the one who starts a conversation. You beat me to it.

“A Christie fan, huh?” you begin. Your voice is low so as not to disturb the silence but I can tell even if we were outside or elsewhere, you would sound equally as quiet anyway. “She’s a classic.”

I smile and you are well-read and I’d like to get to know you more. “It’s my first Christie novel actually,” I respond.

Your eyes are bright when you hear that, and I wonder what you know that I don’t, wonder what’s so captivating about Agatha Christie’s books that has your gaze twinkling with excitement for me and what I’m about to experience. You are so sweet. “You picked a good first novel then. Sometimes I wish I could read that for the first time all over again.”

“You a mystery fan?” I inquire, and I’m cringing on the inside because I’ve just asked you this while we’re standing in front of crime and mystery and you are clearly well acquainted with Agatha Christie. But it seems you think my pointing out the obvious is cute and you nod.

“I read stuff from other genres sometimes but I always end up back here. Guess I love the thrill of a good whodunit a little too much.”

You chuckle, and oh God maybe I am like those protagonists in the romance novels across the aisle since I swear my chest tightens a little, enough to be uncomfortable, a twisting and then an unraveling like my heart is sighing. And I don’t think there’s such a thing as loving a little too much because love is love and I’m loving talking to you right now. I don’t want our conversation to end and I wonder if I asked if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime if you would agree. Or maybe we could go out for pizza (there’s a great place in Brooklyn that has $1 slices of pizza the size of your head).

It’s a bit difficult to get any words out; your smile is disarming and there’s a softness in your eyes and you could be your own superhero because to be the recipient of just one or the other is enough to get someone to slow down, but to witness both is enough for someone to stop entirely and cause them to forget what they were doing, what they were about to say. Or maybe that’s just me. But gradually my thoughts come back to me, the fog clearing (though it had been nice while it lasted and are you sure you don’t have any powers?). You’re watching me, expecting me to talk, and I’ve been oddly silent and it only make me more nervous. You probably think I’m weird.

“No such thing as too much,” I finally force out, referring to your earlier comment with the same playful tone.

You smile. Maybe you like weird.

A burst of confidence surges through me and I introduce myself, holding out my free hand. “I’m Peter.”

You shake it and tell me your name, and a brief quiet settles between us again. And I don’t think you want our talk to end either. My hand slides back down to my side and it misses yours already. It’s just you and me and Agatha Christie and if this were a game, this would be the crossroads. Press A to carry on our conversation or Press X to say goodbye or press nothing and leave it to the roll of a dice, the flip of a coin. But I’m not imagining that hopefulness on your face that this—us?—could turn into more, and I don’t want to leave something this important to chance and I sure as hell don’t want to press X.

“Well, [Name],” I continue, and I like saying your name, “would you wanna get coffee sometime? It’d be nice to have someone to discuss this with.” I hold up the Christie book.

“I’d like that,” you reply, and I like you saying my name.

It’s a date and three days later we meet up after work. We go to the pizza joint in Brooklyn because I’d suggested it as an alternative to coffee, if you were up to it, and you wholeheartedly agreed because you wanted to see those pizza slices for yourself. We sit down at the table in the corner, the red and white checked vinyl tablecloth reflecting the glare of the fluorescent lights and Wow, you remark, you weren’t kidding about the size of these slices!

You’re a waitress at a small diner where it’s calm most days. There aren’t any rushes, and the primary customer base is regulars whose orders you have memorized and when you see them, you’re able to carry on your conversation from the last time they came in. An elderly couple eats there every Friday. You had a chat with them today.

“They’re like grandparents to me,” you muse, smiling to yourself as you soak up the extra oil on your pizza with a napkin. “All my relatives are out of state, so it’s nice to have a sense of family like that.”

My eyes are glued to your grin and I think I love you. You thrive on human connection, and you don’t have to seek it out since it comes to you at your job. You didn’t have to seek it out when you met me either, because I was the one to approach. I wonder if you knew that’s what would happen, how the entire situation would play out. Maybe you were confident or maybe you were unsure and were prepared to approach me, and we would have our first conversation in front of romance instead and we would talk a little about romance novels until in a roundabout way we start talking about crime and mystery because like you said, you always have a propensity to end up back there eventually. And even if connections like this didn’t come to you, you’d go out to find them. You’re proactive like that.

The tables turn as you ask what I do, and I explain what Doctor Octavius and I have been working on. I keep it simple so you can follow along, and you’re genuinely interested, and my stomach is doing flips because I am the center of your attention and honestly, it feels nice. Would you please look at me that way forever?

We get so caught up on other topics that it isn’t until I’m walking you home that we finally start discussing the Christie novel I bought. I’d been running around in our few days apart, splitting my time between work at the lab and patrolling the city, but you can bet I spent every spare second I had reading that book. Part of it was in anticipation of seeing you again because I know you’d want to know my thoughts on it and another part of it was because I did find the plot captivating. I often ponder the clues and come up with theories, which I share with you. You listen to them all and you never reveal anything. I ask for hints but you shake your head and laugh.

“You have to solve it on your own!”

“Not even one hint?”

“Nu-uh. Channel your inner Poirot, mister!”

I chuckle. “My French is a little rusty, but I’ll try.”

All too soon we’ve arrived at your apartment building and we are standing in front of the stoop and you turn to face me and have I spied with my little eye reluctance to part in yours? The evening air is cold. We’re bundled in thick coats and a gust of wind ruffles your hair.

“Well…” you start.

“Well…” I mimic. We are both prolonging goodbye.

“This is me.” You motion to the dark brick building, a careless wave to your right (my left) but you’re still staring at me and you smile.

“I guess it is.” I smile too and briefly glance over at the structure before looking back at you. “I had fun tonight.”

“Me too.” You are positively glowing. Your smile and your eyes and your everything is bright and you are beautiful beneath the yellowish tinge of the street lamp. The time since I saw you in the bookstore had dragged on, agonizing and frustrating, all of it a buildup to tonight, a night which has gone by too fast.

You take a slow, cautious step forward and you’re in my bubble but I don’t mind. And you are close, so close, and I can’t breathe because I’m on a tight rope trying to maintain my balance and you’re on the other side, what I focus on to keep from teetering. I wait and you wait and the rest of New York is forgotten. Then you stand on the tips of your navy blue Mary Janes so you can reach up to kiss my cheek.

“I’ll see you later then, Pete.” You say see you later because goodbye sounds too definite, too sad, and you call me Pete because you’re comfortable with me and you like me and on the inside, I cheer.

“See you soon, [Name].” I watch you walk up the steps and when your hand curls around the doorknob, I call out, “I’ll have the book finished the next time we hang out.”

You look over your shoulder and smile. “I’m holding you to it!”

My own walk home is boring without you around. Our night together has reached a close but my night isn’t done yet. I’ll be suiting up once I’m back at my apartment and you’ll be in the back of my mind as I respond to dispatches I pick up on the scanner. I wonder if you’re on cloud nine like I am, if I’ve inspired you to pick out an Agatha Christie from your personal library to re-read. Maybe you choose the novel I’m currently working through so you can experience it with me.

The spot where you kissed me is still warm and you must be born of the sun. Or if not that, then surely you’re a star of your own, and you’re officially my favorite one if only because you aren’t high in the sky too far away but rather, right next to me, and I don’t know about you, [Name], but I can’t think of a more perfect place than that.

#ps4 peter parker x reader #ps4 spider-man x reader #peter parker x reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man imagine #peter parker imagine #ps4 peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #bubble-tea-bunny #queue

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 6 years

Text

Lots of writing! | Writing Update #1

Hey People of Earth!

I have many a things to update. mwahaha

The first of which is this bad boy!

FISHBOWL was a one shot-ish thing I worked on in mid August because I didn't want to write the scene I had to write, but also didn't want to write outside of my universe. Soooo, of *course* your girl wrote herself some more fanfiction because? I mean? Why not!

It’s not unheard of on this blog that I ship (and then, subsequently cannoned) my boyz Lonan and Harrison. I’d written the first chunk of this story on mobile, just in a note, because I’d gotten an idea for some dialogue. (I had the whole story written besides the beginning and end.) The struggle was figuring out how to start the story. I toyed with a couple ideas, writing a million different first sentences. Frustrated that I wasn’t feeling any of ‘em, I shelved the project for the night and went to bed.

The next day, I came back to FISHBOWL, and I looked over the random first sentences I’d jotted down. One caught my eye, and so aha, I found my sentence. (I struggle with writing openings, so once the first sentence is nailed down, I usually am able to get a good flow rather quickly). I wrote the entire thing in one sitting, and while it’s disjointed and weird, I had a lot of fun.

EXCERPTS:

The story itself is basically plot-less since it was only meant to entertain myself, but I think I wrote some cool stuff, and explored a setting (Lonan’s room) with a lot more diligence than I have before.

This excerpt’s first line inspired me to write the rest of this story (lol my only motivation). It’s not even a favourite line, it just helped me wrap my head around the language a bit/gave me the idea to have a fishbowl-lens look on the story.

The bottle is crystal edged. Half drained. A kaleidoscope through his eye.

He passes it over with ease. Harrison can’t tell if he’s done it because he’s drunk, or because he doesn’t want questions.

“My mom likes this shit,” Harrison says, fingering the bottle, like he’s holding a memory and not jade-tinted glass. Careful, so he won’t shatter it. It’s almost like he’s a child again.

I also lluuuurve this next paragraph, just because loppy IS SUCH A NICE WORD. loppyloppyloppy. I just like the personality of the objects in Lonan’s bedroom (because he’s got none). Like his poor depressed lonely fishbowl, poor slothy aloe, poor upset betta.

Harrison watches the fishbowl on the nightstand. He should change the water. It’s aglae’d and forgotten, almost, like the loppy potted aloe on his desk. The blue betta hardly slashes through the water. Ris reaches over and unscrews the pot of pet store bloodworms, sprinkles in a pinch of the pellets. The fish cuts around its browning bamboo stake, and vacuums two into its mouth. Its fins wiggle like ink drops.

This is the last paragraph of FISHBOWL, and I mean, I like her tho?

The betta fish glugs through the water in a flowery whoosh. Bottom feeds the last of the bloodworms. The takeout containers are empty, and rolled onto their backs. Stained rusted orange with dried chili. The aloe plant is still curved instead of straight. Harrison makes a note to water it in the morning. The digital clock bleeds 6:22 in neon cherry light. When it bounces off Lonan’s eyes, they look purple.

So that’s it for FISHBOWL! I had a lot of fun writing this lol. Maybe too much. I must be stopped.

CHICKEN NOODLE is chapter 14 of REWIRED, and to be frank, it was a bit of a pain to write. I’d churned it out after writing a really intense scene previously, and couldn’t really feel into the flow of the words as easily as I’d done before. The first scene took a chunk of time to write, because I wasn’t sure where I was taking it. After finally nailing a concept, I did complete it, and I’m rather happy with how that section of the chapter turned out.

However, lol, scene two is a mess?? In my opinion at least, I did read this chapter to @sarahkelsiwrites last night, and she rather enjoyed it! Because it was SUCHHH a mess, and I had no motivation to write it, I, toward the beginning of the month, adapted the scene to screen.

Stripping back the scene really allowed me to figure out how I wanted it to end (which was exciting!). Obviously, it isn’t a very good screenplay, but it was exciting to have a different take on the scene/focus on a new form to learn instead of self deprecating!

The following excerpt is from the beginning-ish of the chapter and sets up the concept:

Maybe this is how it feels. To be a child, or a fetus, or a cell, or a human, stuck in the womb of a mother. Sloshing in amniotic fluid. Doing little fetal summer saults. Eating what she eats. Drinking what she drinks. That last serving of apple crumble. The remnant touches of cognac stuck to her lips. A dog and a bone, a human and its lung, a plant and its gardener, a mother and her child. Can’t live without her, even when you want to. Bitter dependency.

my favourite parts of this are ‘fetal summersaults’ and ‘human and its lung’ like ooooh. I’m like not 100 on it but I don’t mind it!

PEACH is chapter 15 of REWIRED, and oh boy is she a CHAPTER. I drafted this one as well as 16 over three days (they’re both super short), and I’m shook??

Chapter 14 ends with Reeve saying some *very* horrible things about another character (Emily), and her relationship with our boy Harrison. Because of this, she’s finally decided to check out Emily for herself, and see if she’s really as horrible as Reeve (who’s assumed her to be a Lolita figure), has anticipated.

Here’s an excerpt:

Emily and I sit on her pull out. My mother would haphazardly call it tacky—blue gingham, red quilt—but I almost like it. With its coffee stains, and holes that vomit polyester. Second-hand charm. Maybe Harrison toted it off some suburb’s curb for her.

So this is the final chapter I’ll be updating you guys on (because it’s the most recent one that I’ve written lol).

LOLITA, LOLITA, takes place in short succession after PEACH, and deals with a familiar theme--romanticizing/glorifying a female figure (sorta similarly to Lolita, which contributed to--of course--the title). This chapter is sort of the tail end of the ‘whimsical’ adventure Reeve has had entering Emily’s world, and has a lotttt of French inspiration.

Emily, as a character, does study the French language/culture a bit, and Reeve really clings to this particular detail. I think in a lot of ways, she does this because this is a detail she previously ridiculed (in the line: The kind of girl who learns French in her spare time and smokes essential oils, from chapter 10).

Here’s the first one (I think it’s kind of clunky honestly but I like the idea so when I revisit, hopefully with some editing I can clean it up):

We split a brownie over a glass of Pinot Noir. She says it’s a French thing, and I imagine the bottle emptying on the veranda of a politician’s off coast villa. My lipstick stains the rim of the glass in a ruby porthole. It tastes like fruity hand sanitizer to me.

I also really like the next one, particularly the end. Like with before, I think it’s kinda clunky but I ain’t all that mad:

She’s pulled her hair into a bun. The gold ridge of a bobby pin peaks out from behind a twist. Hiding between the white of her scalp. My nails have dried, now, and she’s gifted me her peach lip gloss, which I wear gracefully on my lips like it isn’t second-hand, but a lavish salve made in Europe. Tested on the eyelids of a fetid rabbit. Warm and licked at on the mouth of a rich young woman. An off brand perfume clings to her throat. The plastic breath of amber and ylang-ylang. I’ve tried to mimic her up-do, but my hair falls, even when I pump it with hairspray. Je suis amoureuse. I should tell her. I am in love.

^^ the perfume in question in my head is like a bootleg version of Chanel No. 5, hence some of the perfume’s classic notes!

The second half of this update deals with Reeve *attempting* to talk to her brother (@Lonan @Lonan). They’ve now migrated to his room, which she notes, is vastly different to Emily’s.

The first excerpt is a line I find kind of funny because a) food b) relatable c) lol Lonan’s ideas for gifts tho d) SAME e) grapefruits ?? f) it’s kind of adorable

He’s brought me half a grapefruit and a spoon. A surrender, or a lost attempt at a gift. The flesh wet, and pink.

like tbhhh grapefruits as presents sounds litttt

The next is actually sort of stolen from FISHBOWL, ha. FISHBOWL takes place in Lonan’s room, so I *very much* stole all the description from there and shoved it into this chapter. oops lol.

His room feels smaller, somehow. I think he’s moved the bed. Or it might be the new coat of paint. The addition of small things, like houseplants, candles, miniature replicas of American landmarks. A wilted aloe plant. A fish bowl. The blue betta inking the water in bored compliance. I think to ask him if he’s made the space more claustrophobic on purpose, but don’t at the last second. Lonan’s never been one to collect clutter.

And lastly! Not my favourite but eh:

I say, “I like what you’ve done with the place,” even though I don’t. “What kind of plant is that? This one?” I get up from my spot on the floor next to him. Touch at the pot next to the watering can. Finger the waxy leaves. Anthurium, peace lily, ficus? Probably a ficus. “I think Mom would like these. You should take a picture to show her later.”

I like the tone of this scene a lot because it’s so dissociative. Almost underwater. It’s kind of a very thin version of my usual style, but I think it works for what I was going for for sure (I hope lol).

So that’s about it for this update! I know it was a lil different, but I hope you guys enjoyed regardless! As always, thanks for reading! :)

--Rachel

#writing #writerblr #amwriting #writingupdates

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mageskitchen · 6 years

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Codex Entry; Yeast, Baking Soda, Baking Powder

So this thing is ridiculously long and silly and the grammar of it is purposefully a mess and unedited, but I tried to keep it interesting. It’s done in a style meant to be more conversational so it can seem a little erratic at times. Also, if I goofed on anything here accuracy wise, let me know so I can fix it.

I'm going to learn y'all a thing. So gather around my brilliant apprentices because Doc is gonna to talk about yeast and baking soda+baking powder in baking. How they work, the difference, and when you usually use them. I'm a huge nerd, so be ready for a touch of science in this lesson...okay, a lot of science but don't worry, I tried to keep it descriptive and interesting so that you're not reading something with a billion technical terms because I'm not here for academic elitist crap.

For simplicity, we're only going to talk about active dry yeast and not the others because it's cheap and easy to find at the store. No, really. The stuff isn't even a dollar at the grocery store and can come in packs of three.

Anyway.

So numerous types of yeast are found in food, on your skin, on plants, the air, soil, and more. These funky fungi are everywhere, but the ones used for baking are affectionately dubbed "sugar-eating fungus." Why? Because they help in fermentation in the breaking down of glucose specifically in food. Do you want CO₂ and a little alcohol? Bust out the yeast and something that has glucose in it and let these lovely lads do their thing while swimming in the perfect temperature bath. It's a ten-course meal and spa day for them, and you make their short life glorious.

But you can't just have something with sugar in it. You need lukewarm water to rehydrate them. Not hot, not cold.

Think of it like waking up. You don't want someone bursting into your room, flipping the lights on in your face and yanking the covers off to let the cold air in while shouting "get off your lazy butt and greet the day you lil fudger." It's just rude, and you'll be less inclined to do what they want. You'll scowl, grumble, maybe even throw a pillow at them, but you're not going to get up and do your thing without a fight. Or, they'll scare you so badly with their hot rage that you die of shock.

If it's too cold, like a person, they're not going to come out from under those covers, or if they do, they're going to be dragging their feet the whole way. If you use hot water, like, scalding, you're just crisping them, and then they're useless. However, if you want your bread to be less dense, you'll use cold water. Not ice water, but cold-ish.

That's what's up with yeast. You get the water too hot, and you'll damage them. Get them too cold, and they ain't coming out to play. You gotta rehydrate them gently, with some TLC. Give them just a little sugar to coax them out of their dreamless sleep. It's like that first cup of coffee in the morning.

The same thing happens with baking soda and baking powder. The pair create the same gaseous effect to make the dough rise. Just note that, in most baking recipes, outside of your basic breads, many baked goods are gonna be like, "yeah, mix that flour, salt, baking powder or baking soda; let's get crap done ASAP, y'all. Yeehaw MF."

But back to our swell lads.

The sugary substance you use for yeast doesn't have to be granulated sugar. You can use honey, maple syrup (natural), fruit juices (all juice and not processed crap) if you wish. If I'm making a loaf of bread that I want to have a lighter, sweet undertone, I'll use honey rather than regular sugar. I've never tried the syrup or juice so idk but y'all do you. Basically, so long as it has natural glucose, you should be good to go.

Oh, and note that these packets of yeast have expiration dates, but they have a decent shelf life and can last a little longer than the date.

Anyway, so as they go to town on that sweet, sweet deliciousness that you served them, they're creating the gasses CO₂ and alcohol.

You know that bad girl Gluten? Yeah, she ain't all bad. She's like a fanfiction writer who wants to smoosh her OTP together, that OTP being the dough and the gasses. She traps them in the closet after luring them in with promises of good things to work out the kinks in their relationships, and left them to sort things out for the rest of their short, uneaten lives. Things get a little heated and boom, bread's rising faster than the water of a well in a thriller movie. That's how you get the air bubbles, by the way.

So that's how yeast works.

Now let's talk about baking soda and baking powder more in-depth and how these kind ladies do their darn jobs better than you could ever hope to.

Like yeast, they create gasses that force the dough to rise with air bubbles, and their girl Gluten steps in to lend a hand by keeping things together because that's what friends are for.

So, for baking soda, she likes a little acid. She lives for that burning sensation, and that's what helps her make gasses in foods; you can use anything from juice to honey to give her, a basic pH substance, an acidic boost to get things moving because she won't do a thing without that acid. And her buddy baking powder is a mix of baking soda and an acidic substance; you can make your own at home, but that's for another day.

These ingredients won't activate without water. If you just have a powdery mix, nothing will happen. Add a little liquid to it, and you've got yourself a room full of hot air right here.

So what makes them different from yeast? They get the job done, and they get it done quickly. Yeast takes time to eat; it savors the glucose. Baking powder and baking soda ain't got time for that. They've got things to do so they prefer fast food. Because of how quickly they do things, they're saved for what people will call "quick breads," like banana bread, cornbread, etc.

A neat thing about baking powder is that it has two steps in its chemical reaction. The initial rising when the presence of a liquid activates it, and then once it's heated. This is why my muffin batter doesn't rise in the bowl but does once I toss them into the oven. Heavens above, I love banana muffins.

Baking soda can leave behind a slightly bitter taste to the food, especially because of the acidic ingredients you have to choose from, like buttermilk for instance. Like, y'all gotta make buttermilk biscuits or cookies. That very slight zip to them is the baking soda and acidic ingredient (molasses in my mom's cookies) used in the recipe.

Baking powder is milder, and you would use more basic fluids like milk. So, you'll find it in your cakes and non-buttermilk biscuits. Usually. It doesn't leave behind as much of an acidic undertone. However, it will if you use too much because there's still an acidic ingredient found in powder.

Make sure you sift/mix them and the other dry ingredients as evenly as possible so that the mixture will have an even reaction throughout the dough/batter. That's only one reason why you don't immediately mix the dry and wet ingredients together; you don't want these ladies to get a head start on their work without all of the necessary tools. Also, don't over stir or you'll beat/stir out the bubbles, which means that crap ain't rising.

A last note about baking powder, there are two types, and different recipes may call for one or the other, but it's not important at the moment.

ANYWAY, so that's baking powder+baking soda and yeast for you.

Congrats class, you somehow managed to keep up with this hot mess of a lecture and made it to the end.

#baking #bread #cooking #yeast #baking powder #baking soda #codex entry #food #cake #cookies #biscuits #rpg cooking #mine #not a quest post #long post #funny #adventures in baking #tbh I was curious and made this post bc I went looking for information on it while making something earlier #I'm just sharing what I found

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wherethestoryhasimagination · 5 years

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back from classes, & Vriska’s Descendant being raised by Kanaya & Rose has been bouncing around my head all day. and so before I continue reading Candy... you’ll see ||||)

Their 8th Year... It wasn’t sweeps, but a special planetary rotation nonetheless. The growing Serket had gotten a number of nice gifts like chalk, knitting supplies, and the human virtual fiduspawn game with descriptive audio... with another gift of sorts on the way.

Recognizing that she might be old enough to learn of her ancestor.

Things were winding down, with guests on their way out. John is among the last to leave, a friendly farewell to be made to the wriggling day girl.

JOHN:Hope you like the way that Chalk tastes lil’ spinner! Be seeing you later

MAEVIA:I Will. Eventually. Pro8a8ly 8efore Next Year At Least, So 8ring More Then!

Is that everyone? Good. Not that talking about Vriska is taboo or anything, but when a troll first learns about their ancestor, it shouldn’t be a public affair. Very much the opposite. it is a very personal thing.

Not even Rose is going to be a part of this moment; though that isn’t to say she didn’t play her part in helping to plan this with Kanaya.

KANAYA:I Hope You Have Been Enjoying Yourself

KANAYA:Because I Have One More Surprise For You Today

MAEVIA:Is It Telling Me A8out Vriska?

KANAYA:...

MAEVIA:I Found A Note In The Paper Reprocessing 8in. It Was Your Party Planner. And The 8ottom Piece Said, ‘Tell Her A8out Vriska’.

KANAYA:I Thought We Had Talked About Ruffling Through Bins Maevia

KANAYA:You Never Know When You Might Grab Something Sharp

MAEVIA:Yea, 8ut I Checked, And Now I DO Know What Was W8ing To 8e Gra88ed!

KANAYA:...

KANAYA:Well I Suppose It Changes Nothing

KANAYA:Are You Ready To Hear About Your Ancestor Vriska Serket

the answer was an immedi8 yes. ANCESTORS!!!!!!!! And her own at that!

Kanaya was ready to tell her everything... All the good, All the bad, All the redundant, and All the Necessary.

About the Times she tried ‘improving’ others around her, only to bring them harm. About how she was even incapable of tolerating regression in herself, according to the ideals she had fabricated, and left even herself to cry as a result of her actions.

She grew to be the strongest person she knew according to her definition of strong, and she believed that the weak needed to become strong if they ever were to have any agency over their Lives. At times, this was a self fulfilling prophesy.

About how she ultimately, ended up playing a Large part in Saving Reality from a cycle of Destruction...

And how, at times, the way she did things proved to really be the right choice...

After some time, Kanaya reaches The End, ready to tell her what Rose said should be said at the end of the tale...

KANAYA:Do You Understand Who She Was And Who She Wanted To Be

MAEVIA:She Wanted To 8e The A8solute 8est There Was, No Matter What It Took.

KANAYA:It Is Never So Simple As That

KANAYA: However

KANAYA:That Is A Pretty Good Summery For One Sentence

MAEVIA:I 8et I Could 8e Even Stronger Than Her. I’ve Got More Advantages Now Than She Had At Her Age. As Long As I Can Keep Ahead, It’ll 8e Easy!

KANAYA:...

KANAYA:Do You Think She Was Content To Go For What Is Easy

KANAYA:You Remember What I Told You About Jack

KANAYA:Right

MAEVIA:... She Thought She Needed To Challenge Herself. And Took Her Place In F8.

KANAYA:Yes

KANAYA:She Needed For There To Be Something To Overcome

KANAYA:Even If She Had To Make It Herself

KANAYA:Had She Returned From The Fight Against English

KANAYA:I Do Not Think She Could Have Adjusted Well

KANAYA:A Weakness Of Sorts She Would Never Try To Overcome

KANAYA:She Wanted to Make People Stronger But She Refused To Work At Understanding Them First

KANAYA:It Is Easy To Pretend That Everything Revolves Around You And The Way You Think Everything Works

KANAYA:But Most People May Find That They Are Woefully Ignorant Of The Bigger Picture

KANAYA:She Also Wanted To Be The Hero That Improved The World

KANAYA:And While I Can Not Deny That She Was Extremely Successful In Her Own Right

KANAYA:It Is Also Easy To Try And Hurt The People That You Have Chosen To Blame For Bad Things

KANAYA:A Bit To Easy In Fact

KANAYA:And To Think That If You Punch Enough Faces

KANAYA:That You Will Eventually Fix Things

KANAYA:Those Things Are Easy

KANAYA:It Is Much Harder To Be Willing To Try And Understand Others

KANAYA:Much Harder To Try And Help People Rather Than Hurt Them

KANAYA:Do You Understand

MAEVIA:........

MAEVIA:She Had Shortcomings She Refused To Face. Things She Was Not Gr8 At, So She Tried Fixing Things With What She Was Gr8 At. She Left That Part Of Herself Weak.

KANAYA:Yes

KANAYA:But It Is Ok To Be Weak

KANAYA:Everyone Has Things They Struggle With

KANAYA:That Is Why We Are Stronger When We Are With Others We Understand

KANAYA:We Need Eachother When We Are Weak

KANAYA:And We All Are Weak Every Now And Again

MAEVIA:Not Me

KANAYA: ?

MAEVIA:I’m Not Going To Have Any Weaknesses. I’m Not Going To Do What’s Easy.

MAEVIA:I’m Going To Try And Understand Everything And Everyone

MAEVIA:And Once I Understand Someone? That’s When I’ll Know How To Help Them.

MAEVIA:You Say It’s So Easy To Hurt People? Well Go Ahead And Watch Me 8r8k Every Record My Ancestor Ever Set! I 8et I Can Get Through Life Without EEEEEEEEVER Giving Up Trying And Resort To Hurting Someone! I’ll Surpass Her Weaknesses. I’ll 8e 8etter Than She Ever Was 8^8-Fold!

KANAYA:...

So this must have been how Rose thought Maevia might react. Maevia really would try and be the best. Kanaya holds back some proud tears, and goes in for a hug.

KANAYA:Of Course You Will Dear

KANAYA:I Believe In You

#Maevia Serket #Kanaya Maryam #homestuck epilogue #Homestuck #homestuck spoilers #MAGE of LIGHT #a bit indulgent?#who cares; It's Candy :33

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