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inkskinned · 2 months

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most writing advice is good as long as you know why it is good, at which point it is also bad. the hardest thing (and most precious thing) about being an artist is that you gotta learn how to take critique. i don't mean "just shut up and accept that people hate your work," i mean you need to learn what the critique is saying and then figure out if it actually helps.

i usually tell people reading my work: "i'm collecting data, so everything is useful." i ask them where they put the book down, even though it's too long for most people to read in 1 sitting. i ask them what they thought of certain characters. i let them tell me it was really good but i like it more when they look a little stunned and say i forgot i was reading your book, which means they forgot i exist, which is very good news.

sometimes people i didn't ask will read my work and tell me i don't like it. and that is okay, you don't have to like it. but i look at the thing that they don't like and try to figure out if i care. i don't like that you don't capitalize. this one is common, and i have already thought about it. i do not care, it's because of chronic pain and frankly i like the little shape of small letters. you use teeth and ribs in all your work. actually that is very true. i don't know what's up with that. next time i will work to figure out a different word, thank you. you're whiny, go outside. someone said that to me recently and it made me laugh. i am on the whine-about-it website as an internet poet. you are in my native habitat, watching me perform a natural enrichment behavior. but i like the dip of whiny, how the word itself does "whine" (up/down, the sound out your nose on the y), but i don't know if i want to feel whiny. maybe next time i will work on it being melancholy, like what you would call a male writer's poetry.

repeated "good" advice clangs in a bell and doesn't hold a real shape, dilutes in the water. like sometimes you will hear "don't use said." you turn that around in your head and it bounces off the edges of your brain like it is a dvd screensaver. it isn't bad advice, but it feels wrong somehow, like saying easy choices are illegal! sometimes i will only use "said." sometimes i will just kick dialogue tags out to the trash. sometimes i make little love poems where the fact that i do not say "said" is very bad, and makes you feel bad in your body, because someone didn't say something. i am a contrary little shitbird, i guess.

but it is also good advice, actually. it is trying to say that "said" sometimes is clutter. it makes new writers think about the very-small words and very-small choices, because actually your work matters and wordchoice matters. "i know," you said. "i know," you sighed. "i know." we both know but neither of us use a dialogue tag, because we are in a contemporary lit piece.

it is too-small to say don't use said. but it is a big command, so it gets your attention. what are you relying on? what easy choices do you make? when you edit, do you choose the same thing? can you make a different choice? sometimes we need the blankness of said, how it slides into the background. sometimes we don't.

i usually say best advice is to read, but i also mean read books you don't like, because that will make you angry enough to write your own book. i also mean read good books, which will break your heart and remind you that you are a very small person and your voice is a seashell. i also mean you need to eat books because reading a book is a writer's version of studying.

my creative writing teacher in the 7th grade had a big red list of no! words and on it was SUNSET. RAZORS. LOVE. GALAXY. DEATH. BLOOD. PAIN. I liked that razor and love were tucked next to each other like birds, and found it funny that he believed we were too young to know the weight of razor in the context of pain. i hated him and his Grateful Dead belt, where the colored teddy bears held up his appraisal of us. i hated his no list. it is very good/bad advice. i wasn't old enough yet to know that when you are writing about death you are also writing about sunsets and when you write about love you are tucking yourself into a napkin that never stops folding.

back then my poetry was all bloody, dripped with agony when you picked it up. i didn't know there is nothing beautiful about a razor, nothing exciting about pain. i just understood sharpness, which he took to mean i understood nothing. i wrote the razor down and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. that's what i'm saying - sometimes it's good advice, because it's not always necessary. and sometimes it is very bad advice, because writing about it is lifesaving.

hang on my dog was just having a nightmare. i heard that it is a rule not to write about dogs - in my creative writing mfa, my teacher rolled her eyes and said everyone writes a dead dog. the literature streets are littered in canine bodies. i watched the rise and fall of his ribs (there is that word again) and had to reach out and stop the bad dream. when he woke up he didn't recognize me, and he was afraid.

it is good/bad advice to say that poems and writing have to mean something. it is bad/good advice to say they're big feelings in small packages. it is better advice to say that when my dog saw where he was, he relaxed immediately, rubbed his face against me. someone on instagram would make fun of that moment by writing their "internet poetry" as a sentence that tumbles across a white page: outside it is sunset and my dog is still in a gutter, bleeding a galaxy out of his left paw. or maybe it would be: i woke the dog up/the dog forgot i loved him/and i saw the shape of a senseless/and impossible pain.

the dog is alive in this one, and he is happy. when i tell you i love you, i know what i said. write what you need to write, be gentle to yourself about it. the advice is only as good as far as it helps. the rest is just fencing. take stock of the boundaries, and then break them. there's always somewhere else you could be growing.

i love you, keep going.

#warm up #writeblr

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syneilesis · 4 months

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[fic] if only for a moment

if only for a moment

Love and Deepspace | Rafayel (Qi Yu) x Main-Character!Reader | T | 3.6k words | ao3 link (with correct formatting)

Rafayel waits. And waits. And waits.

A/N: Another LaD fic!! This time it's Rafayel. Several elements of this fic are inspired by and loosely based on his story anecdotes and bond story, plus that Deep Sea card line backdrop. So more spoilers in this one, I'm afraid. I think you need to be aware of them in order to follow the flow of the fic. But if not, here's what you need to know: basically Rafayel accepts a visiting professorship at the University of Linkon to reunite with the MC/you. And the prose poetry interspersed are loosely situated in the Deep Sea card lineup setting (you can search in YouTube for the scenes. This one is a brief glimpse of the scene). That princess/knight(??) dynamic is yum yum.

If possible, please read the version on AO3. I formatted the prose poems there as if they're really prose poetry, so I'd appreciate it if you check that out. (Though there isn't too much difference between the formatting here and there, I did make the effort of coding a little 🥺)

Anyhoo, hope you enjoy, and I am sO STOKED FOR THE OFFICIAL RELEASE. rip my wallet 💸😭

JUST LOOK AT THIS MAN AND BELIEVE

There’s a type of berry in a distant land that produces a rare shade of ink that matches the color of your eyes. It takes a hundred of them to create the right hue and volume for the art that he wants to make. It comes to him in a dream: endless desert, then fireworks of verdant sparks that coalesce into stem, leaf, and, finally, fruit. Rafayel remembers that land, so much different from the iridescent blue of ocean underwater, and the acrid gold of the barren desert. His mouth filled with the succulent sweetness of the dream, the lingering sandpaper roughness of the berries on his fingers. He already knows the name of the artwork even before he’s begun—Waiting, Missing. The ache in his bones gaining form, an intangible thing taking flesh.

Under the ocean surface, time is muted, a deafening thickness that surrounds you with its ambiguity. On land, however, it is linear, and fast, and in a matter of blinks, Rafayel’s visiting professorship nearly wraps up.

He’s only glimpsed you once or twice. Thrice at most. The university is big, but not big enough to warrant a dearth of fateful encounters. The first time he saw you it was at a coffee shop: walking along with your friends outside, your voice mellifluous and festive wafting through the trellis of the café entrance. You were talking about him—well, about Lemuria to be specific, but these days any talk of Lemuria inevitably draws in his name.

He’s committed your schedule to memory, and yet it just seems impossible to capture a moment with you. Even just a brush of shoulders, or of sleeves—an asymptote of contact. Just navigating around your orbit, but never truly meeting.

What would it be like—finally talking to you? You in front of him, face to face? Rafayel imagines the ache of waiting fading into the background until it’s completely gone. He yearns for that feeling, the release of it. A conclusion—or maybe even a beginning.

i. take my hand, he told you under the glow of the lustrous moon, the only source of light that contoured the secretive valleys of his face. i want to show your highness something. there was a country, he said, beyond the undulating monochrome of the desert, blanketed by lush trees and shrubberies and flowers that buildings were made in betwixt and around them—a nation of trailing and winding architecture, a marriage of the natural and the manmade. you wanted to ask why he’d planned on taking you there, and the only answer you got was a curt turn of his head and the profile of a masked man layered by shadows and distance. it would have been nice, you thought, if the moon poured light upon his hooded gaze.

Eventually he begins to frequent the café. Twice a week at first—he doesn’t want to come off strong right away, of course—and then making his way up until he’s hanging out there more than his own studio. He schedules his visits around your classes, always during the ones when the probability of you dropping by the café is high and he can ‘coincidentally’ be around the same area. It’s gotten to a point that Thomas calls him out on it, and nags at him to focus more on his painting. The next exhibit is immediately after his visiting professorship after all.

“From where I’m standing,” Thomas says, “you’re not painting at all.”

Rafayel ignores him.

Five minutes later, he says, “Not painting is part of the painting process.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, but he leaves him to it.

At the café, Rafayel attracts curious looks. A few attempt to approach him, but he pretends not to see them. They linger around the periphery, like moths to flame.

And then something happens: the entrance door chimes, and you swan into the coffee shop, earphones and denim overall skirt, the kind of rosy-cheeked image Rafayel finds on teen magazines, wide-eyed and earnest. You fall in line and order when it’s your turn, and your eyes sweep across the packed café searching for a vacant seat until they finally land on him.

Rafayel’s heart stumbles.

Up close, the baby fat on your cheeks still gives you the appearance of being younger than you actually look. You turn a polite smile his way, and his heart stutters again—but this time it is taken as a warning.

“Hi,” you say, tentative. Any hint of recognition absent. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

ii. you're counting the steps of your inevitable parting. you're at the edge of the desert, far away from your home and its familiar scents, oriented towards a direction that promised a future sad memory, the gentle warmth of his hand, the downward denial of his gaze. this longing that grew out of your bones, aching during cold, aching during heat, aching when he looked at you with such tenderness he had to hide it through the sharp tug of your joined hands, the long strides that opened up a lonely distance. intimacy was dangerous, knowing was dangerous, the bowels of his heart like a solitary flower on a high peak. what would you do to such loneliness?

Memory isn't always an infallible thing. The human brain cannot hang on to every moment of your life, though Rafayel wishes it were so. But still—to think that you would forget him, and it hasn’t even been a century. You were like a phantom thief stealing his heart in the night—no recourse, no resolution.

To wait is to be in agony, the burn of yearning locked within the heart. Rafayel has been waiting for a long time, and the only memory scorched in his heart is fire, the blaze and its blinding, all-consuming want.

What would you do to such want?

You have a blurry childhood, Rafayel discovers. After the first Wanderer descended on Earth, the incident strummed your memories like a stringed instrument that tired of the same chord, over and over. It had bothered you at first—not being in control of your own memories—but eventually you had learned to live with it.

“Grandma and Caleb—my childhood friend—helped me through the process,” you tell him, stirring your iced mocha with its straw. “I owe them a lot.”

Eyes cast down, but still the melancholy shadows remain in your expression. Rafayel folds his arms on the table, and leans closer.

Around them only a few people occupy the coffee shop at this time. How fortunate for Rafayel to catch you during your break while every other student is trapped in class lectures.

“There’s no use in dwelling upon what's already happened. Even sharks have to give up when their prey escapes. When you remember, it will be all the more joyous, no?”

The smile you give him is crooked, disbelieving.

“If I remember.”

“You’ll remember.” Because there’s no other choice, for you and for him. Rafayel cannot bear being shelved in the history of your smile and happiness. Waiting can only be endurable if there’s an endpoint.

In his studio, Rafayel begins his next painting.

iii. the berries tasted sweet, with an edge of sourness that clung to the bottom of the tongue. it had the exact shade of your eyes, a detail that rafayel brought up the moment he plucked it from the shrub. raising it to align with your eyes, comparing them with his artist's meticulous gaze. maybe when this is all over, i'll go back here again to extract ink from these berries, and paint a portrait of your highness using these to color your eyes. he never showed you any of his paintings, merely mentioned them in passing, and you constructed a dream of him from the throwaway words that left his covered lips. i'm not used to sitting for so long, you reminded him, and he glanced at you, then at the berry between his fingers. my memory is enough, then handed you the fruit.

In the few weeks of meeting with you Rafayel forgets that his visiting professorship is ending soon and he has to give out his last lecture. Thomas had asked him what his topic would be. At that point Rafayel had no answer. But now he has.

“I’ve been hearing you talk about Lemuria every now and then with your friends.” He props his cheek on his hand, tilting his head slightly and giving you a charming smile. “Interested?”

You blink. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I’ve seen you a couple of times here, and I happened to hear your friends chat about my lecture. Your points were almost accurate, I’m in awe.”

“The visiting professor—that’s you?!”

Rafayel pauses, the slosh of his drink nearly spilling on his frozen hand.

“You didn’t know?”

Sheepish, you say, “Honestly, I didn’t make the connection. Is that why plenty of people have been glaring at me as of late?”

He releases a frustrated sigh, eyes rolling heavenward.

“In any case, my final lecture is on Friday next week. It’s titled “Memory and Meaning in Lemurian Art”. Why don’t you drop by and listen, and you can tell me what you think afterwards.”

You retrieve your bullet journal to check your schedule. It’s colorful, filled with stickers and doodles that Rafayel finds endearing. Then the excited moue on your face drops into a frown, and Rafayel can foresee the next words that will come out of your downturned lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say guiltily, “but I have a major test that day, and I need to get a high score in order to pass the course.”

Rafayel exhales, long and weary, but ultimately shrugs off the apology. “What a shame, but I forgive you. Just don’t fail your exam or else my magnanimity would be all for nothing.”

He calls Thomas that night.

“I’ll disappear for a while once the professorship is over.”

“Hey, wait, what do you me—”

“You’ll be happy to know that this is for my next painting.”

A beat. “Okay … but for how long?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Then he hangs up.

He’s trying, he really does. The lecture ends to a resounding applause, and it’s mechanical how he answers the questions posed by the audience. But he’s trying, he’s trying. There’s no specter of you in the sea of faces in the auditorium. You’re at the other end of the university compound, sweating your way through your exam. He genuinely hopes you’d pass, for your sake.

Thomas had booked his flight to another country, where he’ll traverse to a land that he’d visited many times in his dreams and had woken up with a filmy, sweet-sour tang at the roof of his mouth. He’ll leave the morning after the closing dinner party the faculty has prepared for him. There isn’t time to pack much, and no time to tell you goodbye.

Rafayel guesses that it’s only fair: how would you feel waiting for him at that café, the chair across you empty, only the sunlight pooling from the window as your companion?

iv. parting, somebody once said, is such a sweet sorrow. much like those berries in that ever-green nation, a lingering sourness remained underneath, the sting of it reminding you every now and then. he was already mourned for even before he left. tell me what it's like—the ocean. he was elusive, untouchable in his grief. you'd heard through whispers, the story of his migration, the drowning before the drying, the unwanted journey. grief brought him to you and grief would steal him away from you, you knew, down to the cells of your body and the hopelessness in your blood. —and yet. and yet you wanted to have a taste of it, anyway.

The ever-green land is no longer green, or lush, or alive. Time corroded it into memory, sepia-faded, wizened. Past. The berries he’s searching for don’t grow here anymore. Everything here is empty, barren, helplessly so.

Rafayel hasn’t accounted for such development, but he should have known. Disappointment stings at his chest, and bitterly he turns away and stays at the next town over. At a family-run restaurant situated near the outskirts, he looks over the wide windows, across the highway road, beyond the jagged horizon. The painting won’t be finished, then. Another tragedy, pressed flat next to the forgetting, to the waiting, and his home.

The chef personally serves him his order and, after a shuffle of hesitation, brings up a question.

“Young man, you came from the direction of the old country, yeah?”

Rafayel meets his inquisitive gaze. “Yes, why?”

“It’s been a while since we had someone visiting that place. There’s nothing in there anymore, it’s been that way for years. Why did you go there?”

Rafayel is reluctant to say, but at the guileless set of the older man’s face, he concedes.

“I was looking for berries. The ones native there. They produce a shade that I need for my painting.”

At the mention of the fruit, the chef’s expression lights up. “Oh! I see, I see. You’re in luck, son. We grow them here at the farm. Plenty of those for everyone. How about I give you some? It’s rare meeting someone who still remembers the old country, it’s almost fate. How many did you say you need?”

Fate. Just like the time of your first meeting, as if the universe had gifted you to him. Just like the time of your parting, of your forgetting, of his waiting. Fate as a connection from you to him, red and burning brightly.

He doesn’t want to seem eager, but he knows he’s failed from the way the chef toothily grins at him.

“A hundred or so.”

The chef falters at that, jerking slightly back. But he accepts it with a nod, an avuncular smile making its way across his kind, powdery features.

“That sure is a huge number, but I think we can work something out.”

His painting takes a month to complete, inclusive of the time spent making the ink from the acquired berries. Sometimes, Thomas watches him paint, quiet in the background. His stays usually don’t last—a quick flash that Rafayel nearly misses, or deliberately ignores. But during the final stages of the painting process, Thomas hands him the exhibit details.

“I’m just thankful you’re on time for this one.” He sighs, relieved, then leaves.

Alone, Rafayel creates. Brushstroke after careful brushstroke, each varying by pressure and angle. He lets each layer of paint dry before moving onto the next. The berry ink—the color of your eyes—the solely different element of this painting. Center, central. The focal point. The beating heart. The years and years of waiting and longing. The form and the flesh. Alive.

This, too, is an endpoint.

v. can i see your face, just this once? your hands grazed his mask like a ghost wanting to touch. rafayel stayed still beneath your desirous fingers, observing, waiting, his own fingers twitching towards his dagger. even in the parting he could not let go of this distance. hopeless, hopeless. your highness would get nothing out of seeing my face. he's wrong, his eyes never left your face, and he's wrong. he didn't stop you from your grasping of his mask, and him—finally—bare and beautiful yet a little sad. you're wrong, you said, tracing his slightly parted lips with a trembling finger, you're wrong. it is everything to me.

The gallery is packed. No surprise there. It’s almost boring, in a way. Waiting, Missing hangs at the farthest hall in the floor, special and intimate as it should be. Thomas knows him well; otherwise, Rafayel would have whined at him to hell and back just so he could be granted this demand that is in reality a mandate.

He’s hiding from the throngs of journalists and art critics alike and sequesters himself in a corner that has a clear view of the painting. Loosening his collar and tie, Rafayel breathes and closes his eyes, leans tiredly against the wall. A few more minutes, and he’ll slink out of the building, reputation be damned.

He melts into the shadows whenever somebody passes by. He has neither time nor energy interacting with people today. Watching them through half-mast eyes, Rafayel stays in his secret place and studies with weightless detachment the people looking at the painting.

He’s made a bet with himself about the opinions of his followers and admirers. Who thinks what and why. It makes for great entertainment. The last time, a fresh-faced critic praised Rafayel’s technique as “innovative and a soul-rending reflection of the prodigy’s character.” He had laughed and laughed for hours until he couldn’t breathe any longer.

Another walks by, and before Rafayel retreats further into the corner, he glimpses a familiar gait and a familiar face.

His heartbeat races. He’s never told you that he’s holding an exhibit today. After the professorship Rafayel failed to maintain communication with you, convincing himself that it’s for the best that he protect you from afar that day onwards. It didn’t help that he had to leave as well. At the same time, you never made an effort of reaching out, and Rafayel thought that it was back to square one again, that waiting, that yearning.

But here you are right now, elegantly dressed, like someone gliding out of a dream. Rafayel swallows, his hands shake. You do not have someone else with you, and your eyes are brightly focused on Waiting, Missing, and for a fleeting moment your expression flickers into longing, strange and old and battered and sad, that it compels Rafayel to take a step forward—to you.

“Hey.”

The curious look vanishes; left no traces in your delighted face, as if it wasn’t there in the first place. “Rafayel!” you exclaim. “Long time no see! Congratulations on the exhibit; these are all beautiful.”

Outwardly he smirks, belying the torrential emotions he’s currently going through. He cants his head a little, works his charm on you. “Impressed? No need to hold back your compliments.”

Laughter, prismatic and crystalline. “Yes, yes. Especially this one—Waiting, Missing. What an interesting title. At the center, what paint did you use?”

Ah. Rafayel inhales before answering. “It’s actually ink. I had to make it from a hundred berries. It was a tedious process, but I wouldn’t use anything else. It has to be this, you see.”

“Whoa, no wonder you’d been radio silent all this time. You were creating this masterpiece.”

He hums, afraid that, if he speaks, he’d reveal too much.

“Well …” You throw a playful glance at him. “Shouldn’t we celebrate your success?”

His breath catches. “I—”

Before he manages to finish the sentence, a journalist calls out to him and that summons plenty more, swarming him with no chance of escape. It pushes you out of his peripheral vision, and Rafayel wants to shout your name, but you smile and gesture at him to entertain them first. You mouth, I’ll be back, and wander around other paintings some more.

When he finally succeeds in shaking the journalists off, he seeks you out and stumbles upon you near the exit, where there’s fewer people to pile on him.

“Excellent,” he says, sidling up beside you. You turn to him and smile, and there’s that lightning-flash of something again. For one unbelievably surreal instant, Rafayel thinks that despite your hazy memories, maybe you’d been waiting for him all this time, too.

And that thought emboldens him, moving closer and closer until your bodies almost touch. An asymptote of contact. But this time, he has mustered the courage to close that unbridgeable gap.

Rafayel offers you his hand. “Let’s get out of here?”

You stare at his hand then at his face, his eyes, and a meaningful moment stretches between you and him. But even before the idea of retracting enters his mind, you grab his hand joyfully, grinning ear to ear. His heart warms, full with everything.

You squeeze his hand, ready to go. “Lead the way, then!”

vi. a kiss is a greeting and a goodbye, and rafayel tasted of ferocious tides even if you'd seen them only in dreams. his eyes closed, as though savoring his last moments with you, guarded till the bitter end. would that i could ask you to stay—with me. but he shook his head—a final rejection. maybe in another life. there was nobody to watch you cry, in the after.

Rafayel is working on a new painting—a portrait this time. The model squirms on his couch, obvious about the discomfort of posing for too long. He huffs a laugh to himself, hidden by the canvas strategically placed between them.

“I heard that,” you grumble.

“Shush, you’re breaking my concentration.”

“If that already breaks your focus then I pity the rest of the art community.” A beat, then: “Is it done?”

“Patience, my dear muse. You need endure it a little more.”

“Hmph, fine. But after this you’re treating me to an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“All right, all right.” He shakes his head, fond. “My muse, so demanding.”

Something sweet touches the edge of his tongue, succulent with a hint of tartness. Like longing. Except now, it’s layered with something new and exciting. Something like a new beginning.

In the far distance, the sea murmurs, lit fire by the setting sun.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #lad rafayel #lad qi yu #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace qi yu #fic #my fic #rafayel x reader #qi yu x reader #lad rafayel x reader #lad qi yu x reader #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace spoilers #it's near midnight again i shall now sleep

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kalki-tarot · 7 months

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Channeled love letter from your soulmate 💌

Pick a pile <3

1 - 2 - 3

4 - 5 - 6

from left to right — Instinctively select the picture that feels right to you, whether based on your thoughts or the desires of your inner self. Choose the one that resonates with you, keeping in mind that this reading is meant to be general in nature and may not resonate with everyone.

Disclaimer — The images I used to select a pile were sourced from Pinterest, I hope the reading will resonate with you. I'm not responsible for any decisions you make in your life from my readings. I'm just a beginner and these readings are just for fun.

⌗ Check masterlist for more ! 🧿✨️

Pile 1

Hi baby! 👋 how are you? Tell me I'm listening to you. I can listen to you for hours, i just love your voice ya know!

I want to make you my princess 👸💓 No, you are my QUEEN!!

l'd leave this world for you my darling! I'd buy you any item you want. I love your eyes, i get lost in them. 🥺 I wanna look into your eyes forever!

Ahh, i can't resist being near you. Don't ever leave my side. It hurts when we are apart, i hate it even when we are just away for a few hours :(

I miss you sm! Time moves so fast with you around me! I get lost in you that I'm not aware of time passing by. We are getting older day by day, look how far we've come in this journey of love!

Everything moves so fast, it scares me! Time changes but me and you never. We have the same love for eachother. Aren't you proud of us?

With you, I just smile. I'm not aware of my sufferings when I'm with you baby.

I wanna go on dates with you, just like we used to before. I hate it when we are apart even it's just for a moment. Love me forever, be my forever please. Love you baby 💓

Please leave feedback in comments! Sending Lots of love <3

Pile 2

Wait ! Did I tell you how beautiful you are !? Just like a ball of sunshine. I get so mushy just from admiring your cuteness. You make me blush.

In a world full of negativity, cheating partners, situationships, hook ups etc. Aren't we lucky to have eachother for eternity as each other's loving a loyal partners?

We should be grateful as not everyone receives true love in their lives amidst these fake people.

Like would be so meaningless without love right? When you are with me everything is good for me, even the bad things.

I want to go on a cruise with you. It's my dream.

You are my love, you are in my prayers. I'm so passionate for you. Don't let these obstacles get in our way, don't be shy with me. You can say that you love me.

I get nervous around you too. Or we can just look in each other's eyes?

Be my life partner. I want to spend the rest of my life with you please. Not just life, i want you for an eternity.

If I could ask god for one wish, I'd ask for you in every lifetime. Everything is okay when you are around.

I can tell you my pains and sorrows and I can listen to yours. I get strength from your smiling, happy face. With you, earth is like heaven for me.

Isn't it beautiful that we are two bodies one soul? Even if I die, I'll come back to you, I promise.

Please leave feedback in comments ! Sending Lots of love ❤️

Pile 3

I'm in love with you. Time stops when I look at you. I can admire you for hours. I'm at peace with you.

You can call me a fool, but you are just like a fairy and I'm just a human, mesmerized by your enchanting beauty.

You give me peace, you voice, your soft hair, your eyes, everything about you makes me feel calm. You are a part of my soul.

I want to make you mine. I will spend all my nights in all the ups and downs of your life. I will be there in the bad times too, darling.

I'd write songs and poems about you. When you smile, it feels like heaven.

I really love you, trust me.

I really love you trust me.

I really love you, trust me (Idk they're just repeating this. They wanna make you trust in their purity of love)

Yes you can call me a fool whatever you want. But I'm madly in love with you.

Days and nights pass. I fear your absence. Life stops in your absence.

I'll do anything you want, I'll give you a bouquet of roses. Trust me, I love you.

You'll get addicted to me. (not in a bad way) You'll want me in your arms day and night. I know you want me. But you show that you don't, i know everything. I don't know what should I do, you too don't tell me. It's bad that you hide it from me. Don't do it, cuz i love you. Your nights would be sleepless without me. (Not in an nsfw way) Look closely into my heart, you'll find yourself.

Please leave feedback in comments ! Sending Lots of love ❤️

Pile 4

There is a limit to your emotional and physical capabilities, I know you are tired of telling everyone this and no one is listening to you, but be aware that I'm here for you, I'm listening to all of your needs. I know no one knows those things about your past, but don't let yourself fall.

Look at your passion for it! You are walking circles within yourself. I'm aware of everything but I can't do anything about it except to be there for you and to listen to you.

We are bound within our own worlds for now. Wait for me. If we lose our hopes now then how will me meet? I know life is teaching you so much. It's the same for me. But remember we are getting close to each other day by day.

Everyone left you at your worst, and your heart doesn't accept this. I know all of that. Please hold on a little longer I'm coming towards you.

Since the day you've stepped into my life, it's been sincerely great for me dear.

My destiny is written with your name. I don't know how to live without you, love? (They're a but emotional telling you this)

My heart hurts seeing you like this, everything will be okay. I learned how to live from you, but never without you. Can you please not cry? It hurts me.

And yes, every compliment I ever gave you was honest. Life feels like life with you. It's colorful with you. You are the sky to my earth. I look upto you.

Come here and hug me. This connection is for a thousand lifetimes. Don't hide your tears with me.

Our connection is a secret, i haven't told anyone about this. I remember you from our past life.

I miss you every second that passes. I feel alone without you. Do you too? Don't worry I'm on my way to you.

Lots of love, 💓

Yours Only ✨️💕🧿

Please leave feedback in comments !

Pile 5

My heart doesn't accept this. It's stubborn and doesn't listen to me. It's not willing to mend the broken strings.

Why can't we forgive our mistakes? I'm sacred everything will be lost.

I don't know, my heart doesn't believe in it. Why can't we be together? All the promises are broken now?

The relationship which grew so beautifully like a rose, why is it just thorns now? My heart doesn't recognize itself. I don't recognize myself.

We gambled our happiness. No one know about this. No one knows our pain.

Our silence keeps screaming. You might be happy without me, but I'll be not.

I don't pray now, I've lost hope.

Why should I be embarrassed about telling people that I'm nothing without you?

See, you're making me go crazy. But I still want you, there's no other place I wanna be except near you.

Time will heal my pain. Who knows I'll be there tomorrow or not. Please accept me. Your thoughts keep me awake at night.

Pile 6

The night of our union will be magical. It'll bring lots and lots of happiness and healing.

I can sense the naughtiness in your eyes.

I want to have a child with you. The house will be empty no more.

You are like a dream I never wanna wake up from.

This world feels wrong, you are the only right thing in my life.

You've become my everything. My laugh, my cries. Everything.

This world tells me that my love is unrequited, atleast i can admire you from afar.

You are the last reason I'm living. And the first reason of my happiness.

Please leave feedback in comments!

Thanks for reading. Please be kind in the comments, I'm just a beginner so don't take these readings seriously. Take what resonates. And ignore grammatical errors please, english is not my first language.

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 6 months

Note

I have another brainrot cooking, so in the meantime, have this:

Alrighty, so the new archon who's name I can't remember, right?

From what I've seen of them, they're pretty cocky and prideful.

I can imagine when The Creator visits their nation, they just flirt with The Creator every chance they get

And the other archons (except for Venti because he does it too even though it's to a smaller scale) are just HORRIFIED awaiting The Creator's reaction.

Now The Creator does not give a shit and just fucking FLIRTS BACK

And all of the archons (except for her because she's smug asf) are just:

OMG FURINA & CREATOR RIZZING FR LOL I LOVE THIS. If only I had good flirting skills, man—I'll have to lightly go over that part 😔 SOBBING. MY SKILL ISSUES—

@royalrose2011 THIS IS SO GOOD THOUGH—

Furina Flirting w/ Creator: Archon Reactions?

Furina be slaying out here fr—and you're living it! When did she become—

The other Archons are being caught off guard.

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

Venti

Man is flabbergasted. I mean, he knows he does the same thing and all that—flirting with you and stuff—but to see Furina just flirt in every single moment she gets, every single moment you're in HER nation—holy cow!

He's both amazed and shocked! He should write a poem about this! This was a thing to remember for the ages!

And perhaps he should show this to Zhongli and Ei to watch them wither. And he should present it to you! You love his poetry, and you certainly tolerate his little flirting too!

"Ehe, this bard has found the inspiration for a new ballad! I'll be right back, everyone! Good luck, blockhead Zhongli!" Cheery boi goes on his merry way to write the best poem the Creator has ever seen.

Safe to say it was worth the wait. You absolutely loved it.

Zhongli

He got a heart attack, seeing Focalors flirting with you so shamelessly. This was blasphemous! Even Venti, that absolute airhead, wouldn't go this extreme!

Children these days, and their lack of mannerisms. Zhongli can only sigh, sip his tea, and try his best to not throw a rock at the Hydro Archon. At least she's keeping you in good spirits and amused.

"Lady Furina, please don't get into Their Grace's personal space too much. Allow them so breathing space, please." If he thinks Furina is trying to get a little too close to you, Zhongli will plant his foot down. He has meteors to send as warning if Furina would not bid to these warnings.

Raiden Ei

Aside from the Puppet Shogun's general dislike to how close Furina was (Ei can't blame the Puppet Shogun), Ei feels real uncomfortable watching Furina getting all confident around you.

She's not uncomfortable of the flirting—after all, she too also deals with Venti's dealings, but Furina was a whole new level she has yet to fully understand.

"Furina. Watch yourself." Bodyguard Ei—that's her new job now. She's trying to give you that personal space you need that Furina is trying to take. "I will not hesitate to strike twice." If there's anything sketchy going on that Furina does, Ei is stepping in with her Musou no Hitotachi, no excuses.

She really does know how you tolerate this.

Nahida

She's in between giggling at Furina's antics and entirely shocked with how well you're taking it.

She thought you would've...how should she describe it...dislike how confident and smug Furina was doing. Then again, you were also tolerating all of Venti's antics too...

Nahida isn't really sure what to do, to be honest. While she loves Furina for keeping The Almighty Creator amused, she doesn't know how she feels about the constant flirting. In a sense, you were spending more time in Fontaine than anywhere else now!

"Your Grace, can you come hang out with me for a little while?" Nahida asks you with this cute little pout. "I would like to spend more time with you too in my nation!" And boy, are you now conflicted. Furina being a slay queen, or Nahida being cute child—who would you want to spend more time with?

Furina

While she appears confident and smug, she is most, upon all else, stoked and ecstatic of the fact you love her antics! Now, was that a new perspective she has yet to see!

With her keeping you around her awesome, extravagant nation, she can show all of Teyvat how her nation was the best nation of all time! And the popularity of Fontaine itself was increasing—more mora for her economy!~

Of course, she had it all planned out from the start! Who could make such a masterpiece and grand operation other than the Hydro Archon herself?

"Your Ever-Elegant Almighty Grace!~ Please, Allow I, Focalors, the Hydro Archon of Fontaine and God of Justice, send us off with these fine cakes. You are, however, by far, sweeter than any divine dessert!~" You snicker, liking the way this is going. Furina is even more cocky and smug when the other Archons try to intervene and take your attention away from her.

She has truly become the god that outshined all of Celestia. Hoho, the way their faces looked! She's absolutely stoked!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: It feels great to be motivated! I hope you like this post :D I find this one real amusing LOL—Furina would really do this. If Furina would flirted with me, I honestly wouldn't know how I would feel LOL. I still love Furina though—high hopes that when Furina is out, Furina Wanters will be Furina Havers!~

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #sagau x reader #genshin self aware #sagau #sagau genshin #yandere sagau #genshin cult au #sagau brainrot #genshin imact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #sagau venti #sagau furina #sagau zhongli #sagau ei #sagau nahida

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 7 months

Text

Actually I might as well add onto my thoughts and opinions on what's going on with skk right now.

[ID: A screenshot from Bungou Stray Dogs Season 5 Episode 10. Dazai sits against the metal wall, holding his injured shoulder. His blood is spattered on the wall behind him. He looks up at Chuuya, who is standing before him with a gun to his head. End ID.]

I still think the drowning in 101 was a trap set by Dazai for Fyodor before he knew Chuuya would be there - it would be weird for him to sacrifice his partner and I see no reason he would flashback to some of their memories and have such a choked voice otherwise. Dazai is not like Mori. This has been long established since Dark Era - he is selfish, and thus bad at actually making the sacrifice play with someone he has an actual connection with. I think the trap was set, Dazai had no choice but to follow through, but hoped that Chuuya would break control and escape. He tries a speech which seems like it's going to be a very genuine farewell... only to switch tacks and play it off as though he doesn't care. I do think there was a possibility Chuuya could've died in that scene... but Dazai was deeply hoping he wouldn't.

Seems a silly thing, for Dazai to be relying on hope so much as a master strategist, but you have to remember that Dazai has a near unshakeable trust in Chuuya. He thinks very highly of him, and has a "Chuuya can push through anything" kind of mentality that he's had since they were teenagers. Of course Chuuya can break through the vampire brainwashing! He just needs the right impetus!

So we have Dazai do what he does best - try to piss off Chuuya. The "sorry there weren't any", the goading him into punching him - this is very typical behaviour for these two, and it might've actually worked if it weren't for Fyodor's intervention.

"Good-bye!" is probably a plan. It's the same name as one of Dazai-sensei's works (his last, unfinished work, in fact...), and we know Double Black's plans are named after the author's stories/poems. Note that it comes right after the first goading he does, when Chuuya is more likely to be agitated and thus aware. But also note that, if this is indeed a plan, then it's a little strange for it to be named after only Dazai's story, without incorporating Chuuya's. Their plans are named after combinations of their works' titles, remember? So, it can be reasonably assumed that this plan is solely Dazai's, that it's possible he came up with it on the fly, and that he is desperately trying to get Chuuya on board.

Unfortunately, the usual goading isn't working, so Dazai turns to something he only very rarely uses, and rarer still to Chuuya's face - and that is sincerity. He's trying to reach him, and I really think that's genuine. He's changing tactics, trying something else - because a) this plan won't work without Chuuya, and b) Chuuya is being mind controlled and you cannot convince me that Dazai isn't still royally pissed off about that. He needs to snap him out of it, now.

Even if this is a plan Dazai came up with on the fly, Chuuya will be able to catch on quickly and go along with it - but only if he is actually conscious enough to do so. Double Black's plans can only work when they are both on the same page, and right now - that's more than a little ambiguous. Dazai actually has no real way of knowing whether or not Chuuya heard him, or even if he did, if he is capable of acting on it - but Dazai's faith in Chuuya is so strong that he naturally assumes Chuuya can break through it. Having him shoot him like that came as a genuine shock.

Fyodor implicitly accuses Dazai of underestimating his partner... but I think it's the exact opposite. Dazai is so used to Chuuya being able to struggle through anything that for him apparently not to be able to in this situation is genuinely blindsiding.

It appears that Dazai, too, has been relying on Chuuya's strength.

Tldr: There is a plan, but it is solely Dazai's, not a typical joint skk plan and he has been trying to communicate it to Chuuya and break past the brainwashing - which means Dazai is actually being horribly genuine right now. Unfortunately... it doesn't seem like Chuuya is conscious enough to participate in this plan at the moment (though possibly conscious enough to, like Akutagawa, prevent himself from making a killing blow).

#storyrambles #bsd #bsd season 5 #bsd spoilers #i'm actually real curious to see how this goes.#i'm not sure how we're wrapping this up... i'm scared... D:#bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #soukoku #skk #call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective.

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suugarbabe · 7 months

Note

hii penelope, how are u doing? i have a writing sugestion

slytherin boys headcanons on the yule ball season, like how they would invite reader to dance and so on

i practice dance for hobby so i thought it may be a great ideia, hopefully you'll enjoy writing this!

Yule Ball Headcannons

Mattheo Riddle:

he doesn't ask you in a grand gesture, more so like he kind of traps you against the wall in a corridor, tone dripping with honey and silk telling you he'd go mad if you don't go with him

when you agree (because of course you do) he insists on buying your dress, whatever you want (as slutty as you want because he can fight so he's not worried)

his dress robes match your dress effortlessly

some form of him is touching some form of you all night, there's never not a hand, finger, lip not touching you

he's a surprisingly good dancer, both traditionally and relaxed when the better more current music starts playing

you and him definitely leave early for some 👀 alone time before the others make it back to the dorms

Theodore Nott:

Theo is a shy boy at heart, especially with those he fancies (like really truly fancies)

he asks you by passing a charmed note, a cute little drawing of the two of you dancing drawn in the corner

you immediately say yes, nearly knocking him over when you jump on him after class

Theo's a little awkward on the dance floor when it comes to traditional dancing, but he does his best effort to twirl you when he should twirl you

and he's fantastic of dipping you because then he gets to kiss you passionately like the men he sees in old muggle movies that you show him

Theo takes you to the astronomy tower once you're both tired of the ball activities

hes obsessed with the way you disregard your dress and just sit on the floor, legs hanging over the edge while all the floof pools around you as you share a spliff back and forth to cap out the night

Lorenzo Berkshire:

when Lorenzo asks you, it's not a grand gesture but an incredibly sweet one

he would buy your favorite candies and probably some flowers and come up to you in your common room, he'd kneel down in front of you, tell you how beautiful you were and ask you to accompany him to the ball

you'd of course say yes (because who can deny this sweet faced boy)

and then you'd go dress shopping with Pansy who would convince you to get the perfect combination of classy and slinky for a dress

so when you come down the common room stairs wearing it Enzo's hands are immediately in front of him because there's no way you look that good (he thinks hes about to pass out)

all throughout the dance Enzo does not take his eyes off of you

he ends the night with the sweetest, longest, most passionate make out session your brain goes fuzzy and he leaves you chasing for more

Draco Malfoy:

Draco is money; not just money but wealth; not just wealth but generational wealth

when he asks you it isn't necessarily in person

but one day you get home from dinner and there's a large box on your bed

and when you open it you find the most beautiful dress that you have ever seen, in your exact measurements, with a hand written poem

of which at the end just says 'all my love xx D'

so when you see Draco the next day at breakfast you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply

and when he pulls back he's laughing lightly with a "so is that a yes darling"

at the dance he's similar to Mattheo, surprising you with how good of a dancer he is

and you're enjoying each other so much that you're some of the last students there and you didn't even notice until you hear the last call

Blaise Zabini:

when Blaise asks you it's with earrings in your birthstone

Blaise is elegance and silent power and it drips off him with everything he does

he pays for your dress, and your shoes, and your jewlery for the evening

at the dance he accompany's you for a few songs

but he's secure enough to let you dance with just your friends for a couple songs as well

does the gentlemanly things and asks to "cut in" before wrapping his arms around you and holding you close for a slow song

at the end of the dance is when he tells you he loves you for the first time and it makes your heart swell because you're both dressed so fancy and it makes your brain go wiley thinking about what it would be like to be married to him once you both finish school

#slytherin boys #enzo berkshire x you #blaise zabini x you #theodore nott x you #theo nott x you #draco malfoy x you #mattheo riddle x you #lorenzo berkshire x you #slytherin boys x you

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shanastoryteller · 2 months

Text

for the lady mo full fic title i'm tilting between wing bones touching and unsex me here

thoughts? opinions?

edit: lol wing bones touching is from: “Why don’t we lie together, wing-bones touching? You look like someone I used to love, only colder.” — Kim Addonizio, from Wild Nights; New Poems; Pareidolia. the quote is excellent and also i like the imagery of shoulder blades pressed together when they're sleeping away from each other, in discord, and when they fight back to back, in accord

unsex me here is macbeth, obv, and i like how she decries her gender for "holding her back" and how the gender/body shift effects wwx, plus it has obvious ties to the premise of the fic

edit 2: just because people don't seem to get what i'm going for with this one - "unsex me here" isn't about wwx's relationship with their gender, it's about society's relationship with their gender. he's unbothered. but what's expected of him and what he's able to do in mo xuanyu's body isn't just about him being not-wwx - it's about being a woman too. unsex me here when lady macbeth says it is about give me the freedom to be as violent and terrible as any man. unsex me here for wwx is give me the freedom to be more than the violent, mass murdering villain you've painted me as - strip me of my expectations and let me live as i was meant to live (even though he thinks he's destined to die again). it's about the parallels lol

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atierrorian · 1 month

Text

| Glad it's you | — R.H

PARING: Rook Hunt x Deaf!reader

SYNOPSIS: All your entire life, you knew silence. But—it isn't as bad as people make it out to be. Because even with your biggest flaw, he still chose you.

˗ˏˋGENRE ´ˎ˗ — Romance, fluff, angst/comfort

˗ˏˋCW ´ˎ˗ — Rook is already a warning. Ooc, mentions of bullying, stalking(It's Rook, duh) horrible poetry.

˗ˏˋNOTES ´ˎ˗ — Wow! It has been a while and I am so sorry for not making anything in quite some time, I've become so busy nowadays that writing has barely crossed my mind, so I'll make most of my free time writing this!

✎| Masterlists|Navigation |

♡ "Are you really willing to accept me?" ♡ "I've accepted you a long time ago."

People always pitied you for as long as you can remember now. Frequently assuming it must be hard not being able to hear. And yeah, sometimes—but it isn't as bad as they make it out to be, if anything, you find solace in the silent world you have lived in all your life. Sure, there were times when it was hard to understand people, especially if they didn't know sign language.

Luckily, you mostly used poems to interact with them. Though, it was amusing to see them struggle to grasp your poems—that's what makes it fun anyway.

And so, making use of your skills, you swiftly wrote down another poem for a certain hunter. He's one of the few people you've known who could actually decipher what your poems meant. And it's not to say each and every time you show him your masterpiece, he always seems to be on your level when it came to writing back to you.

It always makes you feel giddy inside when he writes back to you. Re-reading every syllable. Caressing the ink that was clearly carefully written with such consideration with each word he used, you couldn't help but feel as though he was hinting to you about something.

You scoffed; shaking the thought away. Who were you trying to fool? This was the Rook Hunt you were thinking about! He's like this with everyone. Besides—why would he go for someone who had a defect? To say the least, you weren't insecure with your disability but, thinking about the blonde hunter who seemed to always cross your mind whenever you wrote—you couldn't help but feel your heart tightening in your chest from such thoughts.

In the end, why would he choose you? You're nothing special, far from it anyway. You're just someone who could never hear and someone who just writes to communicate. But, even then, you were still wrapped around his fingertips. And besides—it doesn't hurt to hope, right?

You felt a hand placed on your shoulder, you froze. You had never stayed still like a statue so fast in your entire life until now. What? Millions of thoughts were racing through your mind right now—was it another of the students who were here to once again chuck balled up papers again? Take your poems away from you and ripped them to pieces or flames it until there's nothing left but ashes?

"Awww, what's this? Another one of your silly stories?"

"Look! It's another one of their love poems!"

"Pathetic if you ask me."

You didn't focused on them, you never even knew what they were saying, and you could care less what insults or degrading comments they were spewing from their filthy mouth. Your knees on the ground while clutching onto what was remains of the paper you once cherished. And they tore it all up like it was nothing.

Shuddering from the memory, you closed your eyes and continued to look at your lap; prepared for whatever torture they were gonna do to you again. Tore your poems? Throw paper at you? Mocking at you while you cry in tears because they had nearly killed you? What else did they had in store for you?

You gripped the paper even harder, shutting your eyelids even tighter if that was even possible. You were scared.

Huh.

You felt a piece of paper slid onto your lap, hesitantly, bit by bit, you forced your eyes to open to see what it was. Was it an insult written in a letter? If so, then you're surprised that they were even intelligent enough to finally realized that you had a hearing disability instead of using their vocals to try and insult you.

But no, it was not anything you expected or thought. Instead, your vision was blessed with a familiar handwriting. Subconsciously, you read what was was written on the white letter that graced your sight, and goodness it always doesn't fail to make your blood rushing through your face. By the sevens, how does he always make you feel this way?

Why such a blue face? You don't need to be ashamed of such a heartache; If you need someone to wipe your tears, my heart will gladly volunteer; What you consider flaws, is what I consider perfection —

Mon Cherie, you are the belle of my dairy heart, You, sweetheart, have me wrapped around your fingertips; I will never let go of the string that wraps around my wrist; That connects me, to you.

My heart beats loudly; even you could hear it— If your heart longs for anything, Mon cherie, just write to me; And tell me all your silly sorrows. -Rook Hunt

Though it was short and simple, you couldn't help but re-read the words every now and then. You smiled seeing the words written on the paper. How could you not? His words sweet like candy, it was addicting in a way even you were worried you wouldn't get enough of it. Or maybe it's too late for you.

Your heart started racing so fast you thought even you could hear it. The more you examined the poem the more it started to look like a love confession. But it couldn't be that, could it? You so badly wanted to hope that you had a chance but you didn't want to get your hopes up.

You, sweetheart, have me wrapped around your fingertips.

Those lines, shit, you couldn't help but swoon over them. Clutching the poem, you finally gazed at the author with wonders and hope. He smiled at you and signed those three words you've been waiting to see.

"I love you."

Was it even possible for your heart to be beating faster than it was before? You held the poem closer to your beating heart, trying to conceal it; worried he might hear it. It felt like your heart was about to leap out of your chest. You sighed dreamily and thanked your heart for choosing him.

Meanwhile, Rook chuckled seeing your flustered expression. He found beauty in all things whether it was considered good or bad to others. But he found you the most beautiful of them all. He won't lie, he fell for you hard when he saw you. Because even when he learnt about your flaw, it didn't matter to him; you were still the fairest of them all. You weren't able to hear his words—but that's alright; he'll gladly write thousands or more letters if it meant to show you just how much he loves you.

He'd gladly and happily dance in hot and burning shoes if it meant to show you his devotion to you, just to show how much he cares for you. And if anyone were to make you doubt? Let's just say they wouldn't be coming closer to you anymore if they caused you pain. But before that, he'd come and comfort you, with words written on paper just so all your worries would go away.

Even if his fingers start to go numb and bruises appear, he won't stop until he finally sees you smile. He's glad that his heart chose you.

END

Wow! Uhm, heyy ik it's been awhile but I finally found enough inspiration to make this! Again sorry it's been awhile I've been so busy that I barely found any time to write at all, but I do hope you guys liked this!

#atier's works✎#rook hunt x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst fluff #twst scenario

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starberry-cupcake · 19 days

Text

I didn't even give you time to rest and we're back for another round of this. Let's give it up for our sponsor @lady-harrowhark who has helped me get here ♥

previously, on the 1st entry of tlt, aka gideon the ninth:

this happened

also, I was made aware of the fact that there's a 4th book happening?????

??????

I thought they were three, I thought I was coming into this with all the answers out and available

emily has already explained to me the situation and I am taking it very well

I'm very at peace with the fact that I'm gonna have to wait

this is how you all feel, huh?

now, get ready for harrowbean the ninth:

we start out strong with 25 new names

we got a list of lyctors and slurped cavaliers

I'm assuming the crossed out people means dead or slurped

we got another ortus, good for him, I'm gonna remember him

we got another two living new ones, it's likely I will remember an augustine, not likely I'll remember the other one

absolutely no way in hell I'm remembering their cavaliers

absolutely no way in hell I'm remembering the dead

I'm gonna have to think of new nicknames

not!dulcinea is listed and crossed out, as she should be

(the emperor's new groove, indeed)

we've got yandere simulator twin w/inner chad

BUT we'll talk about that in a sec

and then there's harrow

and where gideon should be we got g̵̙͉͚̼̾̽̓̏̾̒̒̂̎͆̕͝ͅi̸̱͍͕̎̆̾̐̇̍̀̎d̷̨̪̙̭̮̜̼͆͆e̴̡̻̰̞̓̈́̋͂̇̐̇̀̓̈́̿̅̚ǫ̷͇̟̳̯͇̤̪̻̩̤̒̅͐͛̒̃͑̂͌́͝ͅn̵̢̙͔̩̗͇͎̻͕̲̮͙̞̓͆̋̈́̿͑͋̈̒͌̀͐̕̚͜͜ ̷͍̫̝̖̮̺̩͖͕̞̾̀͂s̶̖͓̗̩̹̹̥͉̘̄͑͒̾̔͋̑͝h̷̯̲̞͗ơ̵̢͕͙̤̳͎̟̳̖͕͓͋̃̀̉̔̎̈́͆̏̄ͅṷ̴̧̨̢̦̭͈̰͓̪̱̠͓̈̿͆̇̀͑͜ľ̴̨͍͖̘̠̖͎̤̮̱̻͚̑̄͑d̸̢̛̛̻̙̪͙̖̋̃̄͛̅̀̃̐̈̿̏̏͘ ̷̢͚̦̱̩̬̟̺̀̄̈́͂͋̂̄̊̾́́̾̆̄b̷̡͕̲̗͇̠̗͓̈́̍̽͊̇͜ę̴̢̡̱͓̱͉̩̖͇̠͇͎̪̟͗ ̵̪̭͔̊̿͜h̸̢̛̙͍͎͖̻̟̗̫̄̐̀̄̃̽͑̚̕͠ͅe̵̘̳͆̉̿̔͘͘r̸̦̰͌̒̐̓̽́̾͋̏͝ȩ̶̢̖̩͙̗͚̲̈́͠ͅ ̶̡͌̃̏̐̑̀̄̉̀̈́͐̀͊̀͠

👀

I don't know

I think maybe la gideon del 9 isn't totally gone

maybe it's true, maybe it's wishful thinking

maybe her soul got back into her body like when you dream you're falling

her body slurped it back like a noodle

and her demigod powers regenerated her like wolverine

and camilla removed her from the location

and they're both alive and well

don't correct me, let me have this

me, waiting for camilla to come back

after all of this info and the poem/hymn/whatnot we got a prologue which starts with "the night before the emperor's murder"

WELL

OK THEN

WHAT HAPPENED WITH BEING GOD????

the emperor's new clothes and all, he was naked all along

this man is a joke, this man is the wizard of oz, what's going on here

anyway

the prologue is in second person with harrow's pv

I think I have experienced harrow's pv before while reading gideon

hoping for her to focus on one important issue and getting frustrated was very much harrow's pv

harrow is in some sort of battle situation getting directed by the emperor and, as I understand, acting in coordination with the other living lyctors

but also harrow is doing something she shouldn't be doing and they're telling her not to do it

which is like, the harrowest thing to do

so yandere twin comes in to talk to her into moving because she'll be targeted if she stays

and there's a moment when I was like...wait a sec

they say she has blue eyes with specks of brown

didn't she have lavender eyes?????

then harrow says "you should have killed your sister, your eyes don't match your face"

?????????????

yandere twin is very insistent on the helping but also cryptic

I am starting to stan her less

she's starting to get on my nerves and it's the prologue

she also says "choke me, daddy" which

THIS IS NOT THE TIME

gideon gets to do those jokes at terrible times, not you

gideon is allowed

so harrow gets in the fight soul-first and is spitted out of the fight and has a sword through her body

we're doing great over here guys

we're just— this is fine

we're fine

it's f i n e

IT'S FINE

I'm gonna leave the next bit for the next one because this is long enough with the reaction images that I think are crucial to understanding the feelings I'm trying to convey. I'm gonna go to sleep and possibly dream of these characters again. I'll try less pictures and more stuff in the next entry. Hopefully. And maybe read the short story that comes before book 1 because Camilla is in it.

#luly reacts to tlt #tlt #harrow the ninth #the locked tomb #harrow the ninth spoilers #tlt spoilers #long post #gif cw

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nqmonarch · 2 months

Text

Valentines Day w/ HSR Characters!

Doing Calc homework and am very stressed, i can feel it everywhere in my body. the math is just not mathing mentally today (i looked at trigonometric identities today so maybe thats why)

Just writing out some messy ideas to take a break

Btw if u sent in a request and I haven't answered it yet I am working on it thank you for your uh question ask thingy i appreciate it, i like to know what people like to read bcus tbh i like to write anything altho jingyuan gets like +10 points cus he fluffy

Valentines Day With Some HSR Characters (Jing Yuan, Blade, Dan Heng, Stelle)

Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan is old school romantic. You cannot tell me he wouldn't arrive home with a big bouquet of roses (does HSR even have roses?) and 20 other gifts, including but not limiting to boxes of chocolate, teddy bears, and at least one gag gift. There's gotta be at least one, he'd make a dad joke out of it too.

Then he'd reserve one of the best restaurants on the Luofu and bring you there. He'd probably have booked a private room, thank goodness because no one wants to hear the general continuously compliment you until you're a puddle on the floor. What he is best at is attacks. But if he gets a compliment in return he'll freeze up for a moment before playfully returning it.

Jing Yuan doesn't put on his normal coy facade today, instead he just embraces how much he loves you because he's happy to still have you in his life.

Blade

Blade does not know it's Valentine's Day. It's not his fault, cut him some slack. Anyway Kafka probably reminds him that it's Valentine's Day about half way through the day to which he goes into a silent panic. You can't tell he's panicking he's just staring at the wall with a blank face, he actually looks like he wants to murder someone.

The two of you end up celebrating though! He... pulls something together, it really is something. Sure he smells like blood and the waiters are scared, and taking over this restaurant for a Valentine's Day dinner was definitely not in the script but... It could be worse. He's trying his best, really.

Afterwards you and Blade share lots of cuddles! Something he's pretty good at! Holding you just tight enough, and keeping you close to his side-- you just won't be able to get up if you want to get water or anything. He doesn't say too much but you can feel the love in each caress.

Dan Heng

Dan Heng doesn't really like going out, why would he when all he needs is right by his side? So the two of you stay on the express in the archives. What matters isn't where you are but the company. He'd probably get you a few trinkets from different places he's collected over the years, a necklace, a sick looking compass, whatever fits your vibe.

Dan Heng would probably also write you a love poem, and make you read it or awkwardly recite it in front of you. If you read it out loud though he will get unbelievably embarrassed and snatch it away from you. He'd give it back but he'd take some coaxing, be nice okay? His face is already red.

Then when the night draws to a close the two of you would curl up together on that sorry excuse of what he calls a bed. The majority of your body would be on Dan Heng's using him as a pillow, and his arms would be wrapped around your body keeping you still and warm.

Dan Heng's bed is not it man. Personally, I'd get back problems.

Stelle

"You are the one who deserves the golden trash the most," Truly romantic words from Stelle as she hands you a golden trashbag. That is just the first of the gifts she gives you tonight, and the one that's most valuable to her. It's the thought that counts right? You still have no idea what she's talking about when she mentions fighting Sampo as a trashcan...

The two of you spend a romantic night together, walking down the quiet streets of Belobog, and-- did Stelle just investigate a trashcan again? You should be used to this. On the bright side, every time she gets something cool she comes up to you with the biggest smile on her face, it's beyond adorable. Sometimes the trashcans even have good stuff, like a scarf Stelle lets you wear that thankfully doesn't smell like trash.

It's just good to spend time with the person you love. She spends her time catching you up on everything new from her adventures, and when it's too cold to stay out any longer the two of you head to the Astral Express. Where you shower together and then doze off on one of the Express' couch cushions while playing games. Your head rests against Stelle's reminding you, you're never alone.

Okay I need to get back to homework, fun break thanks guys. Imagine being alone on Valentines Day couldn't be me, I have my Calc Homework. It told me I was integral to it <3 legit peak partner material.

#hsr #reader insert #hsr x reader #gn reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #dan heng x reader #stelle x reader #valentines day #me x calculus homework

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