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#but i feel like i have a more solid grasp on myself. all bc of charlie keIIy

stargirlfics · 1 month

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i’m turning 25 next monday 🤗

kinda crazy honestly but very cool and it’s kind of sinking in that like I should and can celebrate myself after years of not wanting to make my birthday a huge deal, so the bf and I are planning a small friends and family party on the day and I already bought party decorations and they’re My Melody themed which makes me so happy! it’s gonna be really cute!

there’s the excitement but also a lot of other feelings I’m trying to assure myself are normal and I’m sure everyone else on the planet who’s been 25 at some point has felt but I realize that I’ve spent the last five years unraveling and healing a lot of things that I don’t think I really thought about what it would be like to get to this age but I’m sitting here and feeling like i have so much to give and to learn still and that feels exciting

previously i’ve been upset with myself for struggling with things I thought I should have a handle on by now but approaching another year I want to accept that I do worry about my place in people’s lives and I want to accept that I am still trying to find a solid sense of self worth, I’ve worked my tail off to make those things better but it’s okay that it’s hard cause I’m new at this and nobody has all the answers anyways, it’s okay that I struggle

i want to accept that and gain a little more security within myself bc every year that I get older the more I feel just a bit more comfortable in who I am and I hope that only gets stronger. it’s exhausting questioning whether I’m worthy enough for people to stick around for or not and I know I can’t ask or wish for this to never be a problem again but I hope and believe I can start to really grasp that inherently I am a whole person and nothing about me is going to make others run away, I belong in the world and am loved, I am beautiful and my words and thoughts matter greatly and people want me and need me in their lives 🩷

hmm lots to take on but it’s Aries season and when has an Aries ever let a mountain stop them!

#hopefully i can organize a little bday sleepover or new alfred writing to celebrate! we’ll see! 🥰#personal #text

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throughtrialbyfire · 29 days

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20 Questions for Writers

thank you so much to @wispstalk and @dirty-bosmer for tagging me!! <3

gonna tag @mareenavee @changelingsandothernonsense @thequeenofthewinter @skyrim-forever @trickstarbrave @oblivions-dawn @orfeoarte @gilgamish @totally-not-deacon @archangelsunited !! no pressure as always, and if i havent tagged you and you wanna do this, go ahead and say that i did, i'm tagging you in my mind <33

answering under the read more!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

five atm! but i'm planning on splitting my one-shot-as-chapters fic into individual fics. i think i'll have around 11, then, if i don't take out some.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

99,173

3. What fandoms do you write for?

TES and CoD Zombies! though i don't write a lot for CoD Zombies, just when i get in a certain mood for it here and there. old special interest wont grant me a moments peace lmao

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

i only have five uploaded, but i'll put them here!

1. An Inner Sanctity - 41 2. If By Sun and Moon I Swore - 38 3. Cycle of the Serpent - 23 4. The Mark You Left - 15 5. Portraits Under Forgotten Suns - 2 (this is the one i'm gonna split up into their own fics :3)

5. Do you respond to comments?

yes!! i even carry on convos in the comments sometimes for the hell of it, i love interacting with ppl <33333333

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i think the one-shot for the prompts "forgotten/devotion" for tesfest '23 about the shipwreck of the brinehammer, since the main character dies lmao

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

the one for the prompt "in bloom" from tesfest '23!! it was just a little fluff fic for my ocs athenath and ja'dato <3

8. Do you get hate on fics?

luckily no, the spaces i've found myself in these days are really positive :3 especially compared to when i wrote on FF.net in like 2009

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

none of it is published, but i do sometimes! it's a good way to flex my muscles (haha) in blending thought and action, balancing descriptors (how vivid is Too Much), and seeing how certain characters interact with each other in a vulnerable state. maybe i'll post some someday, idk. mostly i just do it for funsies, so idk what kind you'd classify any of mine.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

i havent in many years, so no, but that could chance if the mood strikes me

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope, but when i was writing for a different fandom in high school, my writing for a particular character wound up on ppls RP accounts as their versions backstory, as well.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no, but if anyone wants to translate my fics, feel free!! just give me a heads-up!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

yep, on my old ao3, a good friend and i turned an RP into a fic! i enjoyed it immensely bc we wrote really well together!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

idk, i just groove where the dynamics take me <3

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i hate to say it, but An Inner Sanctity needs a major overhaul that i don't have the energy for right now. when i started writing that fic, i didn't have a solid grasp on athenath's personality. now that i do, i'm gonna need to rewrite all the chapters i've had ready for it, and pivot the direction of the fic to get it where i wanted it to wind up eventually. i really do want to finish it, though.

16. What are your writing strengths?

i get a lot of compliments on my imagery/descriptions/atmosphere! i love describing shit, so i'm glad ppl enjoy reading those bits of my work <3 oh!! and character/narrative details. i wrote a ~180k word fic in my senior year of high school solely off my mental notes for it, and it still wasnt finished when i dropped it a year or so later due to Circumstances

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

biting off WAAAAAAAY more than i can chew!! i have so, so many things planned for CotS and who knows if those things will get picked up on by folks or even work later down the line. GAHH

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

if you can realistically do it, go for it. if i could fluently speak all the languages i've tried to teach myself, i'd probably include them in fics where they would fit!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

naruto, i was writing naruto fics on a defunct dress-up site when i was a kid AHAH.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Cycle of the Serpent. theres seldom a time i'm not thinking about those elves. yes, i will admit with my whole chest that i'm a tad desperate for people to read it and interact with it, but i think if i could explain everything (without spoiling it obviously) i have planned for this fic and just how much is going on in the background of the details i throw in, the reasons certain characters behave the way they do, and the amount of time i've spent working on it (the doc for it is at roughly ~96k and we're not even at the Real beginning of the solitude arc) and the sheer amount of hours i've spent making sure details line up, you'd understand why i'm losing all my sanity daniel-amnesia-the-dark-descent style over this story. i started writing it as a for fun "no one's ever gonna see this" exercise that also helped me greatly in recovering from long covid brainfog, and i think even if one day i look back and think of it as "not the best thing i've ever written", it'll still be one of the most passion-driven things i've ever written, and i'm happy about that. <3

woof, what a ramble. if you made it to the end of this, thank you, and i hope you're having a good day!!

#bishop.txt #tag games

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daedalusdavinci · 1 year

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MY Davekat Fic Recs

i read everythign in the davekat tag a couple years back. yeah. everything. the whole bitch. it was a couple of years ago, so that might date this post, but heres a bunch of fics that i thought were so good i put a little note on them in my bookmarks about how hard they went

>Dave: survive three years on this rock

by MadSeason

Growing up on a flying meteor is hard work. You know this from experience. TG: dude what is this piece of shit you just sent me CG: TO PUT IT IN YOUR HUMAN TERMS: CG: IT’S A FUCKING LOVE STORY, DAVE. Well, it's a bit more than that.

this is a meteor fic, and youve read any davekat fics, thats a summary in of itself. however, from what i remember, this particular meteor fic goes really hard bc it does such a good job of building dave and karkats relationships with the other meteor residents and it leans hard into dave and roses friendship which is so important to me, bc guys they are BEST friends and theyre just so ; ; its just important ok. also according to the note i left for myself on this fic it made me cry a lot so thats always good

catch me, keep me

by CurlicueCal (@curlicuecal on tumblr)

Dave drops by the twinkle vermin class transport-ship Calliope to visit Captain Crocker and her crew. He engages Jake for some repair work, bugs his brothers of the corporeal and non-corporeal varieties, and stops in to harass chat with Karkat. Absolutely no flirting ensues.

frankly everything curlicuecal writes goes hard as fuck, so write that one down. read everything. they never miss. they are SO good at handling side characters and dealing w the complexities of homestuck characters, never shying away from the things that make them miserable little assholes. their fics are always so fun + funny and this is a really good one

just two guys being dudes being moirails and smooching a little

by MisPronounce_and_MisAccent

DAVE: yeah id be down DAVE: just two guys being dudes being moirails and smooching a little im not opposed DAVE: if youre cool with that A few options flit across your mind. The first is picking up the couch cushion next to you and screaming into it for a solid minute. The next is just screaming, sans-pillow. The third is, of course, throwing in the towel and flinging yourself off the meteor, because it is abundantly fucking apparent that you possess an inherent incapability to maintain any simple, good relationship without getting your feelings in a bullshit fucking twist. You decide to do none of this.

if you are like me and you really really love fics where they blur the lines between romantic and platonic and flushed and pale, this is the one. this is the fic.

Car Accident Blues

by ode

Dave Strider is good at looking fly, but he sure isn't good at not getting run over!

fuck i remember this one actually. its really short but its SO fucking funny

midnight soliloquy

by apocalypticTaco

If you had the time, you could wax poetic about every inch of him. Well, it’s past midnight. You could spare a few minutes to wax. If someone asked you what was it specifically about Karkat that you fall head over heels over, you honestly could not tell. It's everything.

its short and sweet, really cute fluffpiece. i CANNOT remember this users tumblr un anymore but they were huge in the davekat fandom for a while and they have a really good grasp on dave and karkat as characters which makes all of their davekat fics hit hard. highly recommend checking out their whole page rlly

We've Got Time

by acedavestrider (@acedavestrider on tumblr i think)

He’s very pointedly trying not to smile, trying not to give you the satisfaction of knowing you made him smile, but his eyes completely give him away. They’re far too fond to give any sort of impression other than absolutely smitten, regardless of how hard he’s trying to seem annoyed, and the way he blinks at you - quickly like he’s trying to clear his vision, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re real or if he’s imagining you - is enough to make your heart swoop in your chest.

another REALLY cute sweet one. honestly i think this is one of my favorite davekat fics ever. acedavestrider writes some of the best davekat in general and you should 100% read all of their stuff, because it ALL goes this hard. ofc anyone w a un this good is bound to have a good grasp on the characters so like what more do you even need me to say

Fait Accompli(cation)

by IntelligentAirhead (@dragonomatopoeia on tumblr, but im p sure it was cowritten w someone else? dunno theirs)

In Which a Mutant and an Alien Meander Towards a Quadrant of Indeterminate Identity at a Glacial Pace While Examining the Internalized Toxicity Perpetuated by Their Respective Societies, and The Nature of Friendship is Determined to Be More Universal Than Originally Theorized [Banned In Alternia]

this IS the best davekat fanfiction. this is the one. ive read it multiple times and its good each time. im just going to copy my notes straight from ao3 on this one, i think theyre from a second reread some time after the first

"ok this does slap. this slaps super hard. its a meteorstuck fic wherein karkat and dave both have to question toxic ideas theyve internalized from their own planets and eventually fall in love and get together. no one is delegated to rosemary therapist, all of the charas are beautiful and just as important, and the characterization is so flawless it couldve been written by hussie himself. this TOTALLY holds up, holy shit

"#literally the most beautiful piece of prose known to man"

The Eurydice Suite, v2.0

by callmearcturus (@callmearcturus on tumblr)

Dream-sharing: a highly illegal little industry in which agents delve into people's dreams, and unearth their deepest secrets and memories. Within this business, the Strider-Lalondes are known as the best there is — until Dirk Strider gets his fool-ass trapped within the confines of his own subconscious, with his Auto-Responder playing malicious prison warden. To save him, the best and brightest dreamers in the world will have to form a team. Backed by the token rich friend, lead by the surliest extractor ever bribed out of retirement, haunted by the shade of the latest, greatest agent in the biz, and on the run through a dangerous tiered dream in a hostile mind... It's going to take a miracle to pull this one off.

ive read this one so many times and honestly its still really good. the writing style is fantastic and i have spent many a year trying to capture the same beautiful atmosphere arc does. its a really creative au with really cool ideas about classpects and the characterization in this fic is awesome

Crash Standing

by Asuka Kureru (@asukaskerian on tumblr)

It's been eight days since the end of Sburb and Davesprite is not coping especially well.

ive already listed my favorite davekat fic, but THIS is my favorite homestuck fic period of all time ever the end. this is the best one. this is the ONLY one, as far as im concerned. you dont want to know how many times ive reread this fic ok. i love davesprite/karkat way more than i love dave/karkat (bc you know me w my doomed characters) and the way this author handles the interpersonal relationships between not just karkat and ds but also like ds and all of the OTHER characters is SO. GOOD. davesprite and kanayas relationship in particular lives in my brain rent free at all fucking times oh my god they are so perfect. shes so perfect. i love kanaya so much in this. oh my god and JOHN. the senor strider thing is so fucking funny sldkjfnsdf just. AUGH. its such a good fic just trust me ok just trust me

there are probably more i could recommend but its been so long since i read them im just going to stick to these bc like. man. i do NOT remember some of the bookmarks ive got in there anymore. ask me again when i finally snap and reread homestuck

#davekat #my recs #homestuck fanfiction #homestuck fanfic

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wiltkingart · 1 year

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hey wilt 🌈 been going thru ur account this morning (apologies for possibly spamming ur notifs with likes etc) and I know you get so many of these messages but like. Idk how to communicate to you how incredible your art is. You said somewhere that colour is possibly one of the weakest parts about your art and I was like. Stunned. Bc the way you use colour .... 👀🤯😱🥵🥴🔥🔥🔥 Like. I have somewhat of a background in art history and your work feels like it could really comfortably sit alongside Michaelangelo (also bc he was gay hehe) etc. Like. Idk. Do you realise how incredible your work is???? I'm shaking you. It's literally like. Wow. I mean you must know from the other messages bc the power it has to inspire ppl to read certain media or draw things or even start hrt. Anyway. I'm shocked to my core and forever changed after this morning even tho I've been following you for a long while. I hope this doesn't come across as like patronising (the bit where I ask if you realise how good you are) bc that's not my intention at all I'm just like. In awe and basking in the glow of your brilliance and I have a really complex relationship with making art myself and almost never use colour for many reasons but I feel So inspired to make after looking at your work which is really rare for me. Idk. Your work is joyful, glittering, maddening, hopeful, inspiring, beautiful etc etc etc etc. So much love to you I hope 2023 is being good to you so far 💓💓💓💖💞

not patronizing at all! i actually haven't felt the greatest about my art lately because my health has been hanging onto the edge of a gutter. it can be exhausting to keep fighting back negative thoughts alongside other physical issues. but i know these thoughts aren't true, and i'm hanging in there. through force of will i'm getting through it :') (and starting new meds soon!)

when i say color is my weakest element i mean that it's the part i struggle the most with. i don't have a solid grasp on how it works, so i have to rely on intuition and lately i've been using more references. i feel the most limited by color due to my shaky understanding of it. it takes a lot of time and experimentation with every piece to find something that feels good. but color is a very complex element! and i can only get better thru time and perseverance, and trying to absorb as much information as i can from the refs i use.

i don't think i'll ever have a scientific understanding of color or even enough solid ground to be someone who can make tutorials or explain it to other people. but on the flipside that means i can keep using colors i like even if that means they don't make sense. there's a charm in the unnatural! there's expression in existing outside the rules! as long as i keep taking risks and keep my mind open to learning, and use colors that make me smile, i'll be alright.

thanks for the incredibly kind message, it was very unexpected especially since i haven't posted much art for a long time. i'm hopeful that spring will be a good time for me. well wishes to you and yours, and i hope that creation can become a source of freedom for you rather than complexity. if the rules don't make sense, make your own <3

#speaking of art history i only ever took 1 art history course and it was when i was homeschooled for 8th grade and depressed out of my mind #and for some reason i really latched onto the pics in my textbook of Napolean Crossing the Alps and especially Pietà #they've been living in my mind ever since and lately i've been allowing myself to draw more inspiration from the old masters #it's been fun! incredible how well they knew what they were doing. there's sooo much to learn!#an endless well of knowledge just waiting to be tapped into #ask wilt

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gon-and-killuas-mother · 2 months

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had a really fun dream where i think i was a new Young Justice member??

Nightwing was still the leader, though he looked a little younger, maybe early twenties? the dream focused a lot on him. and my dream self felt younger too. aaand yeah there was flirting.

now, i don't know if i was an "official" member of the team, bc i was still very much disabled. but Nightwing still worked with me to build my strength while minding my limits. at one point he was helping me use this, i guess, exercise equipment that was supposed to gently increase my balance and stability? my brain couldn't get a solid grasp on what it was, but Nightwing spotted me the whole time.

the rest of the team was there too, though they certainly weren't any YJ members i recognized. a couple of them hung around me and Nightwing just chilling until there was an alert, and Nightwing had to bounce with the rest of the team. he apologized, bc i wasn't ready to be deployed and had to stay behind. and he looked like he actually felt bad.

so i... reached for his face, pulled him down a little and kissed him on the forehead??? and told him not to feel guilty. so he smiled, squeezed my shoulder and took off.

one dream shift later, i was doing training drills with the team. at this point, i was somewhat stronger, though still not a deployable member. i can't remember all the details but we kinda failed the drill, even though i was apparently doing much better than previously.

the team goes off to take a break and i chat with Nightwing. though the rest of the team have become kinda friends with me, anytime Nightwing is around i just kinda end up where he is, like he's a magnet or something.

he shows me and another teammate a new hero suit that can apparently multiply itself for several people to use, and each "copy" adjusts to suit the wearer. i think he'd nicknamed the suit "Darkwing"?? it looked like a smaller, compact version of Batman's suit tbh.

he lets us try it on. my suit stays black but purple accents appear on the cape and chest piece and i'm stoked

then there's another alert, and Nightwing has to leave again with the rest of the team again. i'm still not ready, but i'm less happy about it.

as the others leave the hideout, Nightwing pulls me aside and tells me something like "your time will come, i promise". and he holds my face and kisses my forehead before taking off.

i think i briefly woke up at this point, bc i remember reflecting on how real that kiss felt. but luckily, my brain was more than happy to dump me back into the dream once i fell back asleep.

there were more training sessions, one of them being a game similar to "capture the flag" or something? i ended up being the one to win for the team, surprising everyone, but apparently overextended myself to the point that i told them i needed a doctor bc of the pain. some teammates weren't aware of my chronic pain and had a moment of "oh shit, for real?" (not Nightwing though, he was aware of my whole situation from the get go)

the doctor ended up being more like a physical therapist but she arrived at the facility, didn't even take me to a private area, just sat down on a set of bleachers with other teammates and told me to sit in front of her.

i did as asked, and Nightwing sat close by. i blew raspberries at him, bc that's what i do to my friends irl, and he blew some right back, it was cute.

the doctor got to work on my neck, kinda manipulating it and kinda striking it with something like a reflex hammer to release the tension?? i'm gonna guess it was less medical procedure and more of a special ability of hers. it hurt like a bitch at first, but Nightwing kept talking me through it, even letting me grip his hand if something hurt too much. but eventually the pain faded and my muscles relaxed to the point i was almost falling asleep sitting up, which Nightwing found pretty funny.

there was a lot more to the dream, like at one point i think our base got raided and i actually had to fight. i barely managed, but it helped that Nightwing was yelling out encouragement to me every so often. i helped them clear out the base, even taking an enemy's shotgun and beating them with it like a club.

i even helped rescue some other heroes who'd been "frozen" somehow, bc i was the only one mobile and not occupied in combat, so i sprayed everyone with something i'm guessing was a comic book special "de-frost" solution that accelerated the thawing process.

it was a long and crazy dream. i never kissed Nightwing on the mouth but it honestly hadn't occurred to me, maybe bc mouth kissing isn't a big deal to me. i was just happy he was focusing on me at all.

but damn it was fun, i was so sad to wake up and know i couldn't go back to it (⁠ノ⁠ಥ⁠,⁠_⁠｣⁠ಥ⁠)⁠ノ⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

#tink rambles #nightwing #dc comics #look man #i'm a disabled redhead #i know i have a chance with him assuming he's not seeing anyone else #... and. you know. assuming he's not a fictional character ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

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wearequeer-andwearehere · 2 years

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Okay... SO- I started to question my gender recently because of this one singer/actor who's very obviously masc (except for recently when he started dressing a bit femme but he still looks masc) and I've always wanted to have hair and eyes like his but recently I've also wanted his (again, masc) voice and facial structure. And like... I've used he/him pronouns before, but I always told myself that it's because I want to help trans and nb people by doing my part in normalising using different pronouns, not because I AM trans/nb. And like... I prefer loose clothes and short hair, but I always told myself it's because I'm queer and want to look queer. Anyways sorry for rambling

Don’t apologise. I’m hear to listen and help.

First off, it seems like you gotta unlearn some shit. Being trans is okay. Drill that into your head. Being trans is completely okay. And it’s okay if you’re trans. That is a possibility. You need to grasp that concept, I think. Being trans isn’t only for other people, for characters and friends and some far away distant thing, it is close and real and you can grasp it. You can be trans.

And I think you’re focusing more on finding something definitive. You’ve gone through all this uncertainty and now you want something solid. But it’s gonna take a while. In the mean time learn to live with it. You don’t know who you are, and that’s okay.

In the mean time, stop asking yourself “what gender am I?” and start asking “what makes me happy?”

What makes you happy?

Does they/them or he/him make you happy? Use it! Does masculinity make you happy? Be masculine! Do lose clothes make you happy? Wear lose clothes!

Be HAPPY!! That is all that matters!! Use the pronouns that make you happy dress in a way that makes you happy be the gender that makes you happy and everything will fall into place, or maybe it won’t, and that’s okay too bc being urself and being happy is what matters.

Added disclaimer of course, make sure to be safe, if you are in a transphobic area or depend on transphobes for financial support etc.

But like…you can be a dude if you want to, you know? Like that’s a thing you can just Do. You can legit jsut go what’s up, I’m a guy, and BAM!!

You can try it out for a bit, if you like. Genders are like. Comfy sweaters!! Try on different ones for a few days or so and see how you feel til you find one that’s comfy and fits.

Wake up brush your teeth look in the mirror say “Im a dude” and just. Don’t panick about it don’t overthink it just live with it, feel it in the back of your mind as you go to school do chores laugh with friends. See how it feels.

You can hold your heart in your fist or you can be afraid. Transness is not foreign, it is real and close to you as the soil beneath your feet and the blood in your veins. You can be trans, and if you are, that’s completely okay. Try it out. Be happy. Do what brings you joy, and everything will fall into place. You could be a masc or gnc woman or nonbinary, or you could be a dude. It’s okay whatever happens. Be happy.

#ask #coffeelovinggayidiot #helping out a questioning person

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hella1975 · 1 year

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hi okay so, this is a piece of shitty poetry i wrote just now after thinking about your protrayal of zuko (again) and wanted to share bc im a dumb bitch who craves validation and needs to know what you think of this. and if i put a little too much of myself into it in the process, and it became more about my weird relationship with being trans than zuko, it's irrelevant, dont ask questions! it was about zuko initially and i still think it can kinda be applied to him so thats all that matters!! pls forgive the lack of capitalisation, its turned off on my phone and im too lazy to change it :,)

(you dont have to read the next part but if u finish the poem and think it sucks it will explain why lmfao)

BUT FIRST, i need to clarify that ive never written poetry in my life, i know nothing about writing, and my punctuation is definitely all over the place. this whole thing for sure sucks but i have an excuse!! a flimsy one, sure, but still an excuse! im 16 and dont remember ever actually learning gow to write, or all about punctuation or any of that jazz. this is more of a stream of consciousness than a poem. and its just a rough draft so, very unfinished too!! so if u really dont like it that will explain why. basically the point of this whole paragraph is just to tell you that im dumb but im also terrified so please be nice to me bc i will cry and that is a threat! (if im starting to sound hysterical and like im spiralling its bc i am okay pls ignore it)

okay so enough excuses, here she is:

this deep, harsh, incessant feeling of shame harbouring in the bottom of my gut is to me, what roots are to a tree,

solid, strong, and stable,

intertwined with my bones and rooted within my very being.

it feeds me and mother me, swaddling me like an infant and rocking me to sleep from within its familiar, welcoming grasp.

I need it for survival, so integral in my very existence that ripping us apart would destroy all thats left within me.

But yet, we are so very unlike that beautiful symbiosis that the root and plant achieve,

that sweet, simple promise, void of all evil, so pure and light that it, He speaks vengefully about it, spitting sour words into my face and whispering harsh lies into my ears.

Our promise is not so gentle. it solely benefits Him, throwing all of me into the dirt and replacing him with a new unidentifiable creature, borne of self hatred and a need to become something, anything else. a dire need to detach myself from everything ive ever been and anything i could possibly become.

He is a parasite, a horrible looming creature, a cruel beast, making me cower in fear within my own, wretched body. He is cruel, intent on toppling the civilisation i spent so long building, the kingdom of my ego, my heart, my emotion; while i sit, and i watch, and i do nothing.

i may need Him to push the breathe from my lungs and carry the blood through my veins, but, He does not need me. He will never need me. im merely another of his children, an effortlessly replaceable thing. a shameful, ugly creature that He does not care for. that He does love. that He does not need. He does not want me. He does not want me. He does not want me. He does not want me. He does not want me.

anonstie i absolutely adored this you cant write something with the theme of shame written with visceral nature imagery and expect me not to go stupid crazy. the way it starts so structured and delicate just to end with that hysterical repetition like it's all falling apart and i LOVE your wording of things, like 'our promise is not so gentle' is such a sick line. im obsessed with this tysm for sending it me!

#as a writer who also never properly got taught anything and had to figure everything out alone i am GRABBING you by the shoulders rn #this is so good and there was no need to be so doubtful of yourself! i hope you keep writing :)#ask

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doodlesfromthebird · 2 years

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(1/3) Previous question-asker here! Thx for giving such a detailed answer - I’ll refer back to this post when I get stuck. Im a lil baby writer - my art skills r more developed, but when it comes 2 making characters, theyre usually for stories I wanna write. Someday. Writing's hard. & I think it’s cool that one of the tips you gave was to interview your characters - my current fav OC group are all in a band, and when I first came up with them I pretended to interview them for a music magazine X)

(2/3) Plot’s a struggle for me too - tbh, the reason I started developing my OCs/worlds more was bc I tried to write a story plot-first, & ran into a brick wall bc I didn’t know the characters or setting that well. With that in mind, how do u know when ur done? When is a character or setting complete enough to write about? Theoretically you could just keep going forever, but do u have any markers you use 2 figure out when an aspect of character creation or worldbuilding is “finished”?

(3/3) [srry for sending so many asks omg, the character limit is ramble-phobic] but thank you for including those worldbuilding prompts!! They're exactly what I needed. You’ve inspired me to make a little guide for myself on character/design, trope and setting stuff that I think is cool, so that I can go back to it when I need new ideas. Thanks again, happy late birthday and good luck with whatever you decide to do with the Spiral universe! No need to apologize at all! I really enjoy the discussion!

I've always been character first, handwave plot for a few years until it puzzle pieces together into...something. Nothing water tight, but something I can at least give a semi in-depth synopsis of *most* of the things that go on in the story lol

I think its SO COOL that you gave your band-members a little interview for a music magazine -- that's exactly what I'm talkin about! And so fun, too!! And it sounds like it'd be something that would end up in the world itself, which is perfect.

"When is a character complete enough to write about?" I definitely recommend keeping an eye out on advice from your fellow writers, but... I personally think you can go on as much as you'd like to! As long as it hasn't become an excuse to delay in actually sitting down and writing for them in your story. (like ME lmao) Because sometimes smaller details just end up filling themselves in as you go along. I think you're fairly set if you have a good grasp on their personality, how they would react in a varying level of situations, what their goals, wants and fears are (and what have they experienced to have those develop) You may even want to write a character-focused little one-shot separate from the story that would help feel things out, while also establishing a mundane or significant moment in their lives, independently from everything else. This goes for multiple characters who are like a package deal. Like a pairing or a close-knit team that influence each others lives. Maybe even to convince you that the character is who you say they are. Like, it's one thing to say a character's charming, it's another to write about a moment where they're interacting with others in a way you actually find endearing and likable to back that up in your own head. Even while I was writing a rough script for a scene in a potential web-comic idea for Damian and Rio (the merman and vampire) a lot of small things started falling into place about the characters and world-building just started to SPRING FORTH, and I only had a general idea on how the scene would have gone, with key moments. From writing dialogue and character actions on the fly, I discovered: more about both characters body language, vampire lore and more how vampires function, a solid example of what an emotionally heavy conversation looks between the two of them, and more examples that convinced me of the chemistry between the two of them, in ways that I wanted.

Sometimes you get caught up in a creative current and suddenly you've blasted through like 3 pages of ideas. This goes for world-building too because characters are so frequently affected by the world around them in various ways. World-building is often something I overthink and I end up a fretting over about a lot of things that probably would be cumbersome to list in grand detail about anyway, but sometimes its fun to just think about, y'know? and if you're having fun then that's all that really matters. I'd say a general knowledge of what a general day of living in this world would look like, and maybe how it would affect the people living there long-term. What really sets the stage and how does it change over time, if at all. What makes waves and changes what was normal in either the world at large or for your characters.

The thing that personally always stumps me is structures of power and politics, and those are often times the real gear grinders of stories.

BAH I'M RAMBLING, MYSELF. I honestly wish you the best of luck with your characters and worldbuilding and I truly can't wait for you to fall in love with them. More than anything, try to be easy on yourself and the process and start with what brings you the most joy. Everything else will follow. Thank you so much for the birthday wishes!! :3

#not art #character development #letters to the bird

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wander-wren · 1 year

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Ok, here goes! I wanna preface this by saying that I've been in a serious writing rut for like the past six months, to the point where I've pretty much given up on my WIPs. It's not that I don't want to write, or that I don't have ideas, but the actual work of sitting down and getting words on the page feels like pulling my own teeth out. So I'm conducting research on writers I admire to see if I can learn anything from their processes. And so, without further ado:

How long have you been writing?

Do you start out knowing what's gonna happen in the story, like with a plot chart and everything, or does the story take shape as you go along?

Do you write in big chunks or a little bit at a time?

How many drafts do you typically do? Is your first draft usually like word vomit or something a little more polished?

Do you have a beta reader?

What's your editing process like?

Is there a certain time or place where you prefer to write?

What do you consider the hardest part of writing?

Have you ever struggled with perfectionism in your writing? Do you have any tricks for bypassing that "EVERYTHING MUST BE PERFECT" wall in your brain and just get words on the page?

That was a lot lol. Of course you don't have to answer all of them, but any insight you're willing to give will be greatly appreciated!

Thank you very much <3

woo okay let’s tackle this!! under the cut bc Long. strap in folks

How Long Have You Been Writing?

in any shape or form: since maybe 6 years old? but i started writing fanfiction at 12, started getting serious about writing in general at 15, and threw myself full tilt into fanfic at 17, so currently i haven’t written original fiction Really since june. which is a complicated answer. you didn’t specify if this is about original stuff or fic, but i’ll try to answer from both perspectives bc my process for each is wildly different.

Plotter or Pantser?

for both original fiction and longfics, i’m solidly in the middle; i usually start with a list of things i want to happen, and i always need some idea of where i’m going to end, even if it changes later. from there, i start writing the first few chapters. when i feel like i have a more solid grasp of where i’m going, i outline chapter-by-chapter through one “section” of the story, however i define that. once im done that section, i outline again. this gives me a lot more freedom to change things as i go and adapt to new decisions i make. i also add random ideas to my masterlist of stuff that i might want to include further down the line as i go.

with oneshots i never, or almost never, have a plan beyond the premise/summary, so they frequently get away from me and do all kinds of random things.

Big Chunks or Little At a Time?

i’m gonna say big chunks? i have adhd so i frequently hyperfixate on my projects and can work on them for hours and hours on end, which i don’t exactly recommend, but it happens. at any given time i have a “main” wip or two that i work on pretty much daily, and then others scattered around that i might pick up for a few hours if i get bored. but i try to finish fics as fast as possible bc if i move on there’s a 50% chance i won’t come back, at least not for months.

How Many Drafts?

for fanfic? one. every once in a while if something is REALLY not working i’ll rewrite sections, so that’s like 1.5 drafts, but it’s free labor i do for fun so while i take pride in it and want it to be good, i’m not going to expend THAT much energy, yknow?

for original stuff, like if we’re talking novels…at least three drafts? i haven’t gotten that far with most of my projects so i’m still learning about myself, but my general process seems to be that the first draft is about getting the main story beats and the emotions down. my first draft is always very heavy on the angst and catharsis, sometimes overdramatically so, bc there’s less plot to hold it up. then my second draft is more about plot and realism and structure, but i tend to lose some emotions in trying to do that. my third draft is about combining the two and continuing to polish stories/characters. i haven’t written any fourth drafts, so i’m not sure whats beyond that.

and my first drafts tend to be very polished. i wrote a little rant explaining the history of that aspect of my writing not long ago, so i won’t get into it again. part of that is just how i’ve always been, part of it is practice. i do feel sometimes that i write pretty enough to cover up structural/realism/continuity issues, which can be frustrating when looking for critique from people who can’t see past it.

Beta Reader?

yes! i have a small group of writer friends that i share things with, but that is pretty much always for cheer-betaing and minor critiques unless i ask for actual criticism, which i only do with my original stuff when i get to the second/third draft, partly bc it’s not ready before then, and partly because it’s a lot of mental work for the other people. shoutout to my main bnha betas, @rangerlexi and @spacetime-enthusiast, who are, as i said, mainly cheer betas, tho mav is also my resident bakugo expert bc he’s very hard for me to write sometimes. getting better tho!

can’t recommend finding betas enough, even if just to cheer you on. hell, i can’t make promises about super long works or original fic, but i’m always down to read fanfiction. i don’t even bite, i swear. obligatory note that you do gotta trust ppl tho yada yada thieves exist and mean people exist etc etc

Editing Process?

for fanfic: typically i reread one or two times right away while all my thought processes are fresh in my head. i’ll make spot edits and add or delete things here and there. then depending on how impatient i am, i wait a day or a few to send it to my betas and/or reread and edit again myself. then i post and i’m done!

for original works: i don’t bother to edit first drafts, or even second drafts sometimes. when it’s time to prep for a second draft, i reread and make notes on what i want to keep and what i want to change, then use those notes to make my next skeletal outline. usually my stories change drastically from one draft to the next, but the last time i did a third draft, i wanted it to be pretty close to the structure of the second, so instead of outlining at all i just did splitscreen and wrote the whole third draft while looking at the second, sometimes basically retyping a page word for word, sometimes going “well, that chapter is pointless” and skipping it entirely. when it came to line editing, i used hemingway bc i don’t trust computers to do my editing, BUT the different colored highlights were helpful to break up the monotony. hemingway is a lot more focused on concise/readable sentences and cutting adverbs than anything else, which was good for me as an overwriter. i cut 22k words the last time i used it, from a 130k draft.

Best Time or Place?

not really? i write everywhere and constantly. the advice about finding your niche of productive time never seemed to work for me because, as long as i’m not blocked/stuck, i pretty much always kind of want to write.

Hardest Part?

DEVELOPING RELATIONSHIPS OH MY GOD IT’S THE WORST. sorry. i hate. doing that. becoming friends? becoming family? falling in love? god. kill me. i love all [thing] to lovers in reading but in writing i tend to drift toward best friends to lovers bc then it’s kind of close. i love writing about people in relationships, tension and banter and softness and fights, but getting there is so awful.

Are You a Perfectionist? Tips?

hm. gonna try to answer this honestly and in the least asshole-ish sounding way possible lmao.

i’m not really a perfectionist? not in writing, anyway, idk about other stuff. but also it’s just like…i know i’m good at what i do. not perfect—i can see flaws in things i wrote even a few months ago—but good. More Than Satisfactory. sometimes fics just don’t work and i abandon them, sometimes it takes me a while to figure out what i’m doing, but i’m not generally paralyzed by the need for anything to be perfect because i’m happy where i am?

that’s a hard mindset to get to, though. and you will for sure feel good about something and then dislike it in a few months or years. that’s just the nature of improving your craft. i think if i had any tips, though, i would say a few things.

watch this video essay, the whole thing but specifically 5:39-9:20. i love cj the x and i agree with many of his takes on art, so. some of his other essays might be helpful as well but that one i know talks specifically about perfectionism.

or if you don’t want to, just have this quote that melted my brain a little when i heard it. “perfectionism is not an inherently bad impulse. but you have to earn that. you don’t get to be a perfectionist if it is unproven up to this point if you can even make a thing.”

read bad stories. like genuinely i’m such a petty spiteful person oops so. i don’t really seek them out much but reading like, really really badly written work is like “well, if that’s the bar, at least i’ve cleared it.” obviously don’t go attacking creators or posting the work to make fun of it, but read it. maybe make notes of exactly why it’s bad for yourself, even, it might help you get better at identifying problems in your own work if you can figure out why things are bad beyond just “i don’t like it.” there, that sounds less mean, right?

just post your shit, tbh. put it out there. most people on the internet, in fandoms, they’re nice, if you curate your space properly. it’s a confidence boost! put something out there that’s less-than-perfect, get a couple of kudos and realize the world didn’t implode, and maybe, maybe it’ll be easier to start/finish next time.

you kinda just gotta accept that you need practice, my dude. like. you can’t closer to perfect without work!! we know this!! just do it. i know i just said to post things but also if you hate what you made no one!! else!! has!! to!! know!! it can be a secret. it’s okay. this coming from a chronic oversharer lol i have the worst time trying not to shove my stuff at people….which, actually, kinda worked better as motivation for me, bc i couldn’t share something unfinished, so i had to Do The Thing in order to get validation/feedback/critique like i wanted. so either way, whatever works better for you.

The End

so yeah, those are my answers, i guess? i hope that makes sense and helps and everything!! i’m really sorry you’re in a rut, that’s the worst. if you have any more questions or just wanna chat about what you’re writing feel free to come say hi again!

#a little birdie asked me #wooo this was fun #i love talking about writing and as such ive already infodumped to most of my friends :((#i love how my approach to og stuff is like so much more meticulous and then fanfic is like #it exists? cool my work here is done #not that i dont care a shitton about my fic. i absolutely do #but i got better things in life (read: more fanfiction) to be working on #i cant be agonizing over here #esp for 0 american dollars lol #wren wrambles #always forget the longpost tag

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wind-vp · 2 months

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the way my life completely shifted since the pandemic, it is truly something.

i always nurtured and was extremely lucky regarding to my affective world and the conexions i made.

i always had a strong circle, i always had super loving friendships that felt especial, solid and with so much mutually built common ground. I was -and i am- extremely apreciative of connecting with someone else. I always honored the conexions i made in my life and ALWAYS felt that love was THEE motor of my life.

Love as loving someone, as an act, as a creation and resistence from such a cold word and politics of individualism and heterosexuality. I always found my myself and pride myself, in the beautiful relationships that i built with others and also, having strong sense of self.

Now, 4 years into the pandemic, my affective/social and even my inner world just..dead. it is hard to say out loud or to recognize it but i definitely fell into such a deep deep depression and high anxiety that i can not do nothing anymoeet. My baseline was already depression and a strong anxiety that restricted me from a lot of things, and people close to me had to accommodate me in some ways, but now, im not able to do anything. Im able to only wake up and give my all, to not even achieve the basics of being alive.

i lost so much these pasts years. i lost so much of myself and pretty much everyone in my life. I grieved so much in silence, with shame, with extreme sadness.

I feel like these have been just very hard times for everyone. There is, of course, a layer of ableism regarding my situation and anyones that can relate to being isolated bc of mental health or overall health issues, but overall it is just been hard for everyone.

i lost all my friends but two of them that live v far away from me. and i'm grieving the lost of my best friend (my cat) that meant the entire world to me. I am extremely grateful for keeping them and them being so understanding. But, with that gratefulness, i hold dissapointed of myself of how limited i am, how dead, how dull and how im not really able to show up and create the type of dynamic i want to have w my loved ones and actually giving them what deserve to experience as well.

It has become incredible difficult, borderline impossible to even do the bare minimums and it doesnt happen out of "will". i think people dont truly understand that. Weponized therapy talk, universalizing moral paradigms that dont look for a more open and understanding approach to relate to each other but only seem to enforce new moral categories/punitive schemes also adds to the picture of isolation while navigating mental health issues or crisis.

i have been feeling extremely alienated of how the world continues to shape itself. I Always had. But the feeling just deepens. Where i felt i had agency to resist before, now i can't find the strength or opportunities to build myself up or new relationships and the landscape is just.. scary.

Sadly, i feel like it is no way out for me. this feeling of death has been building for so, so long without even noticing, and it amounted to actually become incapable of everything. i have no tools to get out, no hands to give me a little pull out of this amd i feel very, very incompatible with the way the world is shaped up.

i never saw myself like this. it is very hard to grasp and very hard to even foresee the slight movement in my life to crawl out of this.

#me #p #please scroll #there is so much to elaborate but.. just some gral thoughts to get off my chest

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ackerfics · 3 years

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so this is love — annie leonhart

— annie leonhart x female reader

— request by anon: I kinda have a request. How about royal au? Where 2 kingdoms are at war with each other, and reader is the heir of the throne of one kingdom (but they’re not the spoiled type of heir, more like the solider one?) and then the kingdoms decided a truce. Reader will have to marry the heir of the other kingdom which is Annie. Idk maybe those arranged marriages that they never get along at first? Kinda like they were enemies bc they never get along until some development of feelings happen along the way. Maybe Annie will realize that she has feelings when reader got injured since they’re a soldier

— warnings: mentions of war, slight angst if you squint, just two idiots falling in love with each other :))

— summary: you were sent off to another kingdom as a sign of a truce, promising to yourself that the engagement is close to death at how you got off on the wrong foot with your betrothed. it was hell at first but who knows? maybe, unbeknownst to you, the two of you are a match made by the gods.

— word count: 7.5k

— author’s notes: i am so sorry this came out so long :((( we just finished our exams and we have a case study to write as our midterm for a subject. i hope this will still quench your annie fic cravings. and by the way, i fashioned the kingdom of idylle to mondstadt because genshin impact is my stress reliever right now and a kingdom built upon freedom sounds like a gem. plus, the glass castle of the reader is based off of the castle of cinderella, which is the reason for the title hhhhhh happy reading !!!

so this didn’t appear in the tags so i reposted it :”(((

Corsets were abominations that needed to be burned.

The girl with your features staring at you from the mirror was someone you couldn’t recognize from all the preparations your chambermaid did on your figure. The make-up was appalling and thick that you could see a smear on the back of your hand when you tried rubbing your itching nose. Your hair was done in a half up-do with too many decorative pins sticking out, creating a makeshift crown of silver roses, one of the symbols of your kingdom. The dress your mother expected you in was straight-up ridiculous, you couldn’t move from the tightness of the corset and the heaviness of your skirts was hindering you from moving freely. You couldn’t even deny that it was a lovely gown but its inconvenience was irking you at the slightest turn or stretch.

Dressing up this lavishly was rare for you, the Crown Princess of the kingdom boring flags of silver and lilac. You very much preferred the heaviness of your armor and your title as one of your kingdom’s Commendatore rather than the ladylike image your mother has been forcing you on the past few weeks.

You were livid when your parents renounced from the ten-year war that was purging the continent with just a sign on a piece of paper — one that included your name and your honor. Everything was brutal, carnage dotting every town and village of the two kingdoms throwing spears and fire cannons, and you witnessed it all firsthand when you started being one of your kingdom’s soldiers four years ago — a sixteen-year-old girl throwing orders that gave you an advantage from your enemies wearing the crest of the kingdom that painted your lands a heart-wrenching red. Of all solutions that your parents and the other kingdom could come up with, it involved you in the most unacceptable way possible. Officially entering your twenties this year, your parents thought it necessary to offer you as a bride that signified peace to the warring nation right beyond the border. The idea made your vision red, an outburst coming out of your mouth mere seconds after the proposal was announced in the council meeting.

A soldier, a knight, a commander — that’s what you are.

Not some forsaken young woman ready to be shipped off to your rival nation because it was the only way out of this bloody mess.

You had no choice.

The only way for you to grasp the final moments in your kingdom was relishing the touches of the chambermaid and taking in the décor of your room — the small trinkets scattered on your nightstands, the books you escaped to, the jewelry that boasted the colors of your family, and the stuffed animals your nanny sewed for you when you were a toddler. You closed your eyes and let the feathery fingers of the people around you lull you into a prayer for the gods in their celestial thrones, asking for their blessing in this far travel. In the middle of reciting an ode dedicated to the goddess of divine bravery, you felt a cool pendant carefully slide over your collarbones.

Your mother’s face appeared beside the watery princess of the mirror, a forced smile pulling on the corners of her lips. Your distinctly colored irises flickered down on the necklace your mother placed upon the exposed parts of your body. It was a flower-pressed necklace, the gold plate carefully protecting the flower representing your birth. The golden chain holding the necklace together was so thin that you worried for a moment that the fragile piece of jewelry might break in less than an hour while you meet your partner-to-be. You met your mother’s gaze in the mirror — from a chivalrous princess of armor to a dignified queen ruling within a land of eternal spring.

“You look so beautiful,” your mother breathed your name, holding your arms tightly against her ring-adorned hands. Tears blossomed her eyes, trickling down her cheeks akin to the lavender flowers’ petals of the large white tree in your backyard. “You look like the queen you were supposed to be.”

You tried smiling but your wobbly lips made you falter. You can only purse your lips in a tight, flat smile as you face your mother, face set in a kind expression. “Please don’t cry, Mother,” you murmured, placing your palm on top of hers, squeezing it for reassurance. “They wouldn’t do anything to me.”

They, meaning the kingdom you were at war with, the nation that claimed they needed a bride for their Crown Heir. In your world, there was freedom even in marriage — with the kingdoms pairing their sons with the sons of their enemies all for the sake of a truce, especially if the two of them were firstborns. This is very much your situation at the moment. The kingdom of Idylle was a beautiful haven of songs dedicated to the god of the winds, very contrasting to their military power that could take down a good number of your soldiers. You heard stories from some villages in your nation that Idylle was a hoax, that they were bloodthirsty warmongers hungry for the spilled blood of the people of Glaieul, your kingdom. You couldn’t help but believe their words. That was the only addition to your knowledge of Idylle except for their battle tactics and placement of soldiers on the battlefield.

“We’ll pray to the deities that they will do just that,” your mother laughed a little despite the tears. “Or else your father will wage war if they so much scratched you.”

“He wouldn’t do that, Mother,” you shook your head with a slight smile. “You two have worked so hard for this peace treaty. If I ever scratched myself in Idyllic lands, trust me that it would most likely be my fault. Not theirs.”

Your mother’s laugh twinkled in the room, painting everything in a light that erased the heaviness shrouding in every corner of your chambers. “I suppose so. You and your love for your sword are unrivaled. I can still remember the time when you first got the weapon, you were so thrilled for a six-year-old that one would think you were born in the barracks. I have to admit, you looked adorable swinging your sword until the greeting of the night and its stars.” She wistfully sighed, looking down at the necklace she gave you. “Your father was so proud when you came back for dinner that night.”

“My sword has always been a lifelong companion. I will even bring it to their castle.”

Your mother placed a hand on top of her chest, over her heart. “I hope you don’t unsheathe it in front of their royal family.”

You breathed a laugh. “No promises.”

The two of you talk about all the things that happened in your childhood, your laughs echoing through the hallways. The maids and the butlers bade you goodbye and safe travels as you passed by, never forgetting to nod in their direction in acknowledgment. You will miss their company for they saw you grow up before you decided to partake in the war. Almost all of them fussed over the mess you made while practicing your swordplay, cleaning up the broken vases and the mud on the carpeted floors. Even one of the apprentices of the Keeper of Books residing in the palace, Armin, enthusiastically waved at you, his friends flanking him for a visit in the kitchens. You didn’t miss how Eren directed an incredulous stare towards the blonde man, with Mikasa looking shocked at how easily the apprentice interacted with you in a public setting since your times with them only happened behind prying eyes.

You gave the three of them a huge smile that gave their faces a pretty rose shade.

Upon reaching the foyer, your father stood at the foot of the stairs along with the soldiers you acquainted in your time on the battlefield, sending a wave of warmth through your chest. His silver coat lined with gold details was a beacon and his white breeches were tucked in a pair of knee-length boots. His chest was decorated with his sash full of medallions, the kingdom insignia of lilac gladioluses and silver roses pinned on top of his heart. The king of Glaieul softened his eyes, crinkles appearing at the corners, at the sight of you and your mother descending on the stairs.

“My little flower,” was his greeting to you when you reached him.

“Father,” you breathed, picking up your skirts to settle in the embrace of waiting arms. You buried your figure against him, inhaling his scent of pine and rosewater, creating the last memory you will have of him. The two of you pulled away for a moment, your eyes watering at the sad visage your father sported. You felt the lightest brush of his kiss on your forehead.

“Now I’m becoming reluctant in sending you off,” he told you. “I felt guilty when I saw you fight against this during the council meeting. But it is what they offered and I have no say in the matter.”

“I know.”

“May the eternal spring never waver in your soul.”

You nodded before taking a step back, bowing with your knees on the marble floors. Your crown glinted against the light from the stained-glass windows, your hair forming a curtain around your face as you replied, “I will let it fester among the ballads and idylls they will offer. I will carry the name of Glaieul with faithfulness, honor, and grace.” You raised your head to meet your father’s eyes. “I promise to never deter the eternal spring.”

It would be that way until your last years in that kingdom. And as you rode the carriage with the soldiers you fought with guarding the vehicle with their lives on the line, you could only sigh and offer another round of prayers that this swerves in a more positive direction than what you were expecting. After a hefty journey across the bustling capital (people stopped by and waved your carriage goodbye, offering you flowers that one of the captains of the fleet, Levi, scowled at — you coaxed him that it was alright, though) to the hectares of meadows in the countryside, the sight of flowers mixed with emerald turned into a sea of teal as you entered the outskirts of Idylle, your betrothed’s home. Everything was bathed with the endemic species of grass solely blessed by the god of the winds on Idylle — legends say that it was because He wanted the kingdom that worshipped him to look different than the rest. No matter how much you deny it, it was beautiful.

“How are you faring, princess?”

Your daze was interrupted by a baritone voice, deep enough to alert some of the men around the carriage. His gray eyes provided you support during the war. You couldn’t help but smile at the onyx-haired man riding by your right window. “Hello, Captain Levi.”

“Tch. Drop the title, brat. You and I both know that the war made us friends somewhat.”

You let out a small laugh. “Well, Levi, to answer your question, I’m quite fine even though my parents just sold me to gain peace.”

Levi rose an eyebrow at the remark. “I am not one to have the capabilities to comfort someone but think of this as a way for you to help the kingdom without sacrificing your life for once. A nation without its heir is just like losing its king. I’ve seen you train when you’re starting as a squire and to the point when you got the position you deserve. This would be like a small walk in the gardens of your mother.” He fixated his stare on you, eyes dull yet determined to get his point across. “You have a role in every part of your life and this time, this is what the gods crafted for you. Do not fret, princess, you have more chances of being on the battlefield again.”

The words Levi spoke settled in you until you reached the capital of Idylle, a small island in the middle of a clear azure lake with walls resembling a huge castle. The bridge leading to the gates was lined with guards bearing the kingdom’s crest, all of them standing under the flapping flags bearing the symbol and colors of the royal family they serve — a harp surrounded by the colors of gold and blue. Their eyes warily followed the series of carriages, postures becoming stiff in the realization that the entourage holds the visitor their rivaling country sent. That was still the scenario when the series of carriages and horses passed by the marketplace, the vicinity on the lowest part of the walled capital, as if the wind even ceased to let the people gawk at the brightly-colored entourage making its way to the highest tier depicting mansions and the main plaza where their patron god stood tall and proud in front of the palace’s gates.

Everything looked magnificent.

It was a breath of fresh air from the glass castle you grew up in. Whereas your kingdom built a white, blinding home that withstood for hundreds of years, Idylle’s palace blended with the brick walls with its leveled mansard roofs and turrets. The gates were made of gold, welcoming you into a huge square of maze-like hedges, a fountain sitting in the middle of the labyrinth. Some gardeners stopped their daily chores to greet the carriages with a wave of their hat, seeing as you were going to be an addition to the royal family after the wedding in a few months. The steps leading to the main doors loomed in front of you with only a few servants waiting for you to step out of the carriage.

You took in a deep breath, nodding at Levi to open the door. When it swung open, you placed your hand on top of Levi’s as he guided you down the propped steps on the side of the carriage.

“Well,” Levi hummed from behind you, making you glance at him with a curious eye. “May the eternal spring never waver in your soul, Your Highness.” He bowed in front of you, only a dip of his head, a firm hand on his heart, and yet that was enough for you to reciprocate it with a kind smile.

“Safe travels back, Captain Levi. May the gods protect you.”

The servant boys standing on top of the stairs jumped an inch in the air, going down in fleeting steps to get your luggage when they realized they were staring too long at you. You smiled at them in gratitude before stepping inside the palace as the guards opened the huge, gilded double doors in front of you.

The inside was just elegant as the exterior appearance of the entire capital. Everything was bathed in gold that seemed to rival the Sun and it made you look away for a moment. The grand hall followed the kingdom’s colors, from the turquoise carpets leading towards two winding staircases to the golden ceilings decorated with paintings of cherubs and the story of how their god of the winds came to be. One of the servant boys slightly cleared his throat, snapping you out of your curiosity of the myths laid on the ceiling. You turned to him with raised eyebrows, spurring him to whisper a faint, “Follow us, Your Highness.” They led you through hallways hung with tapestries and paintings, drawing rooms where the queen hosted her tea parties (Levi would have loved it), and ballrooms that have the same aesthetic as the foyer. Finally, you stopped in front of one of the apartments in the palace, the servant boy who told you to follow them brightened at the guard stationed there.

“Reiner!”

You waited patiently and let your eyes roam across the hallway.

“Hello, Falco, Udo.” The man, Reiner, smiled at the young boys before turning to you. He placed a hand on his heart and bowed. “Welcome to Gale, the capital of Idylle, Your Highness.”

“Thank you for the welcome,” you replied, motioning for him that it was quite alright to straighten his posture. “The palace looks lovely.”

“Indeed, it is.” Reiner opened the doors of your room and once again bowed with an outstretched hand towards the room. “Here are your chambers and I will be your guard for the entirety of your stay here in the palace, Your Highness.” You muttered a faint ‘thank you’ as you entered a drawing room with a door to the private chambers on the left and the bathrooms to the right. There was a table fit for two people, armchairs, and drawers with vases on top. A huge floor-to-ceiling window illuminated the room, your feet carrying you there to open them, and letting the wind caress the curtains as they danced in the breeze. “If you ever need anything, you can call for my name and I will be here in an instant. Your chambermaid will be up here in a moment to help you prepare for the family dinner. For now, rest well, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Reiner, Falco, Udo,” you smiled, retreating towards the private chambers.

You let out a sigh and stared at nothing for a few moments. It came down to this. To think that you were in enemy lands and was treated so well without any degradation came as a shock to you. The people so far that radiated negativity at your arrival were the guards stationed at the bridge and some of the townsfolk and nobles parading in the streets. As you think about the servant boys and Reiner’s calmness in receiving you in the palace, you immediately thought that it would be better than you expected.

You took off your heels under your dress, mind racing that this wouldn’t be so bad, and plopped on top of your canopied bed, its baby blue curtains protecting you from unknown disturbances and drowning you in a rapid of dreams.

The dinner didn’t go so well as you expected.

You donned a more suitable dress for indoor use, something that doesn’t include forcing your figure in a tight corset and yet presentable enough to be shown in the family dinner. You even placed a circlet of silver flowers on your head to compensate for the dull dress you chose, the description fitting after one of the chambermaids expressed their perplexity at how simple regarding design your dress has. Your light blue skirts fanned out around you as you made your way to one of the grand dining rooms reserved for family use. The choice of the color of the dress should be enough to express that you are willing to be on good terms with the family of the person you will marry.

But your first meeting with Annie Leonhart was interestingly disappointing.

Before departing from your kingdom, you learned the royal family and even Idylle’s customs. You learned how they always valued freedom and expression above all else, compared to your home that valued their ties with the gods more than the idea of getting rid of the shackles placed by your deities. You learned how they have this festival dedicated to celebrating the love they share with their patron god and how it spanned for half a month.

Finally, you learned about the indifferent Crown Heir of Idylle, the young woman with the piercing blue oceanic eyes sitting in front of you at the dinner table. She was known for building up walls that discouraged some of her engagements with other royalties across the continent. She was so closed off that she didn’t even glance in your direction for one second. Her hair was done in an elaborate bun wrapping around her head in a braid, her small, thin diadem resting against her golden hair. Annie kept her gaze on her plate, even playing with her food mindlessly for a couple of minutes before sighing and taking a bite of the chicken the maids served. No conversation was exchanged and the dinner ultimately became one of the most awkward meals you had. The king even tried to engage his daughter for casual talk but Annie dismissed them with a hum.

The queen had to apologize to you several times after the dinner, with Annie huffing at the back and eager to get out of the room. Despite how much she was against this engagement, you still bowed at her before you retreated to your room.

Now dressed in your nightgown, you stared at the canopy of your bed, already missing your home the more you fixed your attention on the bundled-up curtains. You badly needed to hit a straw dummy with your sword to let out your frustrations. Of all the royalties present in your continent, why did it have to be you that was shipped to this measly forced marriage? There were still so many solutions that could lead to a peace treaty but why was this the only one the kings and queens could present to their courts? A sigh escaped your chest once again at the thought of actually getting to know Annie. You laid on your side, curling your legs towards your chest and prayed that the god of dreams will visit you sooner than expected.

A knock reverberated through your chambers, the sound making you sit up.

You went to the receiving room and opened the door. You kept the small hitch of your breath in your chest at the sight of Annie and her half-lidded eyes. There was no one in the hallways. You figured that she sent Reiner away for some privacy, meeting the blue irises you likened to brilliant sapphires.

“What brings you here, Your Highness?” you asked, opening the door wider.

“Annie.” She saw how your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Call me Annie, we’re betrothed after all.”

“Of course.” You smiled. “Annie,” you tested her name softly, missing the way she inhaled too sharply at your voice.

Annie reciprocated the gesture by saying your name. The two of you stared at each other and it felt like an eternity before she looked away to focus on the receiving room behind you. She noticed how your eyes held kindness underneath the star-like shine even though she showed hostility during your first dinner with her family. Your hair was disheveled and it didn’t take her a minute to realize she might have woken you up from a good night’s rest. The journey from Glaieul to Idylle was a long one. You deserve all the rest you can get, “I apologize if I woke you up but I feel like I should do this before dragging it out.” You once again raised an eyebrow so she took out a leather box, opening it to reveal a ring with a holographic gem showing teal and pink in the middle. The Leonhart family ring. “Here.”

“Oh.”

You were gawking at the beautiful piece of jewelry, with Annie taking the matter in her own hands. She took the ring out of the box and pocketed the container. Her hand reached out to hold your palm against hers, sliding the ring in your ring finger. Your hand still hovered in front of you after Annie retracted hers to find their place by her side. She continued to eye your mesmerized visage with a half-lidded gaze, clearing her throat to catch your attention. You turned to her with a small apology for spacing out.

“It’s fine,” Annie waved off. “It’s yours starting today.” She turned away from you and went down the hallways but not before saying a “Good night, [Name].”

The entire week of your stay in Idylle was uneventful, to say the least.

Annie kept her distance from you after that night she gave you their family ring. It left you thinking that you should also gift her the [Last Name] ring your family treasured for centuries. The ring was placed in a small cushioned jewelry box that you opened and propped on one of your night tables. Your conscience was telling you to give it to her but there wasn’t exactly any moment alone with her let alone just passing by her in the hallways. The blonde princess made it her mission to never let your fates meet the more time you spent in the capital. You then decided that she probably didn’t want this engagement to happen.

But she gave you the ring. Wasn’t that a strong signal that Annie accepted you as her betrothed, unlike the others before you?

You shook that thought as you focused on giving consecutive hits on the dummy in front of you. Two days before, you proposed to the king to let you have a moment alone in the training grounds for about two hours or so to keep you in shape. He reluctantly agreed, but not without a side stare at the queen. They heard of your glorious feats during the war, how you managed to become one of the Commanders of a battalion of soldiers tasked with being in the frontlines and how you won constant ambushes against Idylle’s numbers. Two hours of training became three until here you are, still not stopping as you finished every single dummy in the private training grounds. With your day spent outside, you thought it would be nice to have a nice dip in the bathtub before dinner.

In your walk towards your chambers, you spotted Annie in one of the drawing rooms, sitting in the window seats with a book of war tactics in hand. You recognized the author as one of the revolutionaries mentioned to you by your tutor.

“That’s a nice book,” you couldn’t help but mention. Annie turned to you unfazed by your interruption though there was a glint of interest in her eyes. “The book mostly describes battle formations but I think the author likened it to every situation on the battlefield. For instance, the phalanx was native to the empire of Great Findara and it was great for preventing casualties until it was overpowered by the infantry tactic of the city nation of Khisfire where every man has a role and a weapon depending on their group. The latter was more on the long-range yet melee way of taking back the territory.”

Annie hummed. “Do royal tutors of Glaieul teach this to their students?”

“Oh, no. I learned it while taking on the role of a squire.”

She once again hummed. “It completely slipped my mind that you are one of the Commanders in your military. You were ruthless as the folks in the noble plaza say, blood tainting your hands from doing raids in the border villages of Idylle.” Her tone was like a jab to your side, like an arrow tearing through your skin. “I know it was a time of war and desperate times call for desperate measures but our people didn’t deserve to experience the massacres.”

“They were far from being massacres,” you gritted your teeth.

Annie scoffed. “Then what were they? Because that’s what it looks like to me. I can still remember the story two years ago of a young girl wearing her lilac cape in the bloodbath, eyes so dull that you can see your reflection on it. What’s to say that this engagement is a hoax plotted by your parents to assassinate my family for you to win a territory you greatly needed because of the resources?” She closed her book with too much force, bitterly spitting out the next words, “The apple doesn’t fall from the tree as the saying goes.”

“If you question my being here then why did you give me your family ring, Annie?” you asked, your body now facing the tense young woman by the window. You cursed at how the light made her look angelic like the girl the god of the winds sacrificed his life to before he ascended to the heavens. “This peace treaty is everything my family wanted even though hundreds of our soldiers died in vain for not meeting the ends of what they fought for. If you’re saying that my parents placed me in an undercover predicament to add to the weight of deaths on my shoulders, I suggest you tell your father to put a stop to our betrothal. Because I don’t even want to be here, Your Highness, and it would do me such a huge honor. I would rather spend my time out with my fellow soldiers than pretending I’m some dainty princess my family sheltered when in fact, I was anything but that.

“Have a good day and I hope you enjoy the rest of the book. Chapter ten was a personal favorite of mine,” you dismissed, turning towards the direction of the apartments.

Once you reached your door, Reiner straightened his posture, faltering for a second when he noticed the cross look on your face. He chose not to say anything as he opened the door for you. You took off your boots right beside one of the armchairs of the receiving room and immediately went inside your private chambers. The glint of the ring on your night table mocked you. You stomped over the furniture and forcefully closed the small jewelry box, throwing the container inside one of the drawers.

Maybe sleep will be much kinder to you, the sheets enveloping you in an embrace you wish your mother can only give in this time of need.

You were radiant under the harsh heat of the Sun.

Annie was scheduled to have a free slot in her timetable after being included in one of the court meetings regarding the resiliency plan of some of the villages in the borders that managed to survive the Glaieulian raids. She suggested that the villages should be moved to one of the more remote villages nearer the capital, where the terrain is suitable for growing crops and starting small farms. There wouldn’t be an issue with overpopulation because the recommended village was home to the elderly and children. The newly situated families will also aid the old people as they go about their mundane activities. It was a sound suggestion and her father was also considering it. Annie hoped that would be the case as she scribbled a small note on a piece of paper. After the meeting, she stopped by one of the windows overlooking the training grounds, and there you are.

Your small argument that happened a few days before stirred some guilt in Annie’s stomach.

You weren’t even part of the raids she was talking about. They were led by a commander by the name of Erwin Smith. The stories about you that she heard were from Idyllic soldiers that suffered a lot during the war, not from the people of the villages Erwin raided. Annie couldn’t deny it but she did step out of the line by accusing you of being an assassin. That was too far-fetched. She was just stuck in her suspicions when she was supposed to be getting to know you.

All she knew about you was that you were adept with a sword and can name any tactic written in books about wars.

Annie saw a maid cleaning one of the vases in the hallway. “Miranda.”

The maid turned around, curtsying in a haste before patting her uniform. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

“Can you prepare a tray of iced apple juice and some cakes?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Annie nodded. “And can you place this note on the tray and deliver it to [Name]’s room?”

The maid was taken aback. “Well, it would be my pleasure, Princess.”

“Thank you.” With that, Annie walked away without a glance back.

Curious eyes followed the princess’ form, the maid finding herself looking at your figure sparring with Reiner and a smile instantly greeted her face. This could be a turning point in the betrothal because she could’ve sworn Annie had a small blush on her cheeks at the mention of the other princess.

After your training, a tray of sweets and a pitcher with glasses of apple juice awaited you in your receiving room. You wanted to ask Reiner if he asked some of the chambermaids to prepare the afternoon snack but a folded note caught your eye. With one hand gripping the towel around your shoulders, you read the note, your face warming up at the short yet endearing sentence.

Indulge in these, they taste better after a good training session.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, you thought as you munched on a sprinkled cookie.

Her eyes kept following a trail of gold tulle, silks, and laces, never looking away the moment her blue eyes laid themselves upon a beauty that rivaled the goddess of oneiric realms, the most ethereal goddess of the heavens. You were dressed in an off-shoulder gown with loose sleeves reaching your elbow, the bodice carefully wrapping around your torso in the most flattering way possible, and skirts adorned with silver gems. In a sea of aristocrats with fabulous dresses, you were a sight to behold in this ball dedicated to commemorate the truce between Glaieul and Idylle as well as announce the engagement between the two countries. You were starlight personified, shining in Annie’s eyes under the lights of tens of chandeliers in the ballroom.

You were on the other side of the ballroom, laughing with your friends from your home kingdom. There was a tall brunette that seemed to be star-struck because of you just like Annie, a black-haired young woman who was smiling slightly, and a blonde who was engaged in an animated conversation with you. Your smiles were refreshing, to say the least, Annie seeing it for the first time since you came to their palace. Your laughs are genuine and it came out of you so easily when in the company of your friends.

Annie visibly stiffened when you turned around and smiled at her, gesturing for her to come to join the small huddle. Your three friends tensed noticeably at her half-lidded stare, with you reassuring them that she’s not that indifferent all the time.

As if sensing Annie’s hesitance, Reiner chuckled behind her. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to introduce yourself to them, Your Highness.”

“I’m getting to that, Reiner.”

A laugh came from the blonde man. “She’s good for you. That much I can tell. The kindest soul I’ve ever met in my life.”

Again, guilt pooled in Annie’s chest. Those words are the opposite of what she spewed out to you the last time you talked. She called you a power-hungry monster who ravaged the war with no care on your shoulders. She didn’t even apologize yet. Annie sighed, “I know.” Then, she pulled up her skirts, navigated the ballroom, and stopped directly beside you. Her blue eyes scrutinized the three people you grew up with, with the brunette and black-haired woman stepping a small step forward to assert their dominance while the blonde pinched their backs to warn them not to step out of line in another kingdom. “Hello.” She transferred her eyes on you afterward, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back and rubbing it in a comforting motion. “I hope you enjoyed the ball so far.” Those words were directed to you.

You only nodded with a smile. “Annie, this is Eren, Mikasa, and Armin. They’re my friends when I was growing up in the glass castle.” Annie nodded. “Everyone, this is Annie, my fiancé.”

“We know,” Eren, the long-haired man in a low ponytail murmured with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Eren,” Armin reprimanded. He smiled at a stone-faced Annie. “Thank you for making [Name] happy! I can sense that she has a different air around her while we talked. It must be because of you.”

Annie stayed quiet, her hand coming into a still on the small of your back. It was a good thing her left hand was hidden away because they would immediately think that you didn’t accept the engagement. She glanced at the ring nestling in your finger, a perfect match against the golden train of your dress. Realizing that she created an awkward stretch of silence, Annie could only nod wordlessly before shifting her attention to you again. It seems like you’re the only one who can calm her nerves down inside the vast ballroom. She never took her gaze on you even as you continued the conversation between your friends.

Her mind was fogged with thoughts of only you throughout the ball.

The two of you excused yourself from the trio when Annie’s father called for everyone’s attention from the front of the huge chambers. “Everyone, kind souls and pure-hearted people of the continent, since tonight is all for enjoyment, the waltz of the ball will now commence.” His blue eyes went to his daughter, standing at the side of his throne. “The moment everyone is waiting for — the first waltz.”

She rehearsed this too many times for when a proper betrothal comes into play but why is her hand shaking when she outstretched it in front of you? You must have felt it because you flashed a comforting smile her way. The two of you went to the middle of the ballroom, the guests staring expectantly at the birth of a romance. They were wrong because you hate her and she hates you. Right? Her hatred for you will never waver for killing her people even though you look like a descended goddess with the lights of the chandeliers raining on you. Hatred must be fueling her heart to beat faster than ever, why she seemed to trip over her skirts and how her words stumbled in her tongue. That must be it.

The dance slowly made its way to the part where she struggled, dipping you as gracefully as she can. Before it happened, you whispered to her, “Please don’t make me fall.”

Annie’s voice was soft, for your ears only. “I promise, my princess.”

It truly was a birth of a romance, the two of you unaware of it all.

“Come on, Reiner!” You shouted at him from across the training field. “Come at me with all you’ve got.”

The blonde man hesitantly shifted into position as he eyed you. “Are you sure, princess? I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He remembered the threatening look he received from Annie before this training session and he would like all of his limbs intact, thank you very much. “I just don’t want your chambermaid to nag me again after last time.” He managed a cut on your arm your previous session and you had to wear a long-sleeved dress in such stifling weather.

You scoffed lightheartedly. “I can handle it, Reiner. You don’t have to worry about it. Plus, I can dress my wounds perfectly.”

Reiner didn’t believe that. Your skills in covering up your wounds were lacking despite being a soldier. The most you could do was apply some salve on your bruises, that was it. He had no choice because the past month he spent his days with you, you were like a persistent little child that reminded him of his younger cousin. He hoped that you two wouldn’t meet. “Alright, here I go, Your Highness.”

Parry after parry could be heard in the private training field. You were doing fine in deflecting Reiner’s sword but your ankle immediately ached after shifting your body, leaning back to avoid the sharp edge of the knight’s weapon. You let out a huff as you dropped on the ground, jolting when Reiner called for you to stay alert. Seeing the glint of his sword, you rolled away and the pain on your ankle flared, even more, traveling through your calf. It also didn’t help that you received a cut on the side of your bandaged arm. You picked yourself up despite the throbbing pain on your ankle and arm, now being on the defensive as Reiner continuously struck you with his sword. He then circled his weapon around yours, throwing your sword on the side and pushing you to the ground with the tip of his weapon. That was the time where your ankle finally twisted into a sprain.

“Ah!”

“Princess?” Reiner’s tone became alarmed, dropping to your level and taking off your boots in an instant. His hands ghosted around your swollen ankle, not knowing what to do. “Gods, Annie’s going to kill me!”

“Annie?” You asked between pants. “What does this have to do with her?”

He only shook his head, carrying you in his arms and into the palace. His steps were hurried and the maids gasped at the sight of your red ankle. “Please prepare a bucket of ice and bring it to Princess [Name]’s private chambers.” He turned to you. “Hang on for a moment, Your Highness, we’re nearing your room. Just a little bit more.” Reiner entered your room and gently placed you on your bed. “I’m going to be taking off your other shoe, Your Highness.”

“Reiner, I think I’ll take it from here.”

Reiner stiffened, slowly turning his head to the entrance of your private chambers. Annie was impatiently standing with a bucket of ice in both hands, eyes glacially set on the blonde man kneeling on the floor in front of your confused form. She didn’t care if Reiner trembled in front of her. She vividly remembered telling the knight to never hurt you (she didn’t see the cut you had last training session because Annie was in another court meeting involving the incoming tax collection of various villages). Annie glanced at your ankle, barely grimacing at the state of it before gesturing for Reiner to get out of the room. The large blonde man took his leave, bowing at the two of your hastily and closing the doors with finality.

Annie mimicked Reiner’s position, kneeling in one knee to place your injured foot on her thigh. She didn’t wear any dresses for the day and it made her look dashing. The image implanted itself in your brain. Her hands are gentle against your skin, your cheeks flaring at the contact. Her features were contorted in a downturned one that showed how bothered she was.

“How did this happen?”

Your eyes settled on the top drawer of your nightstand. “I dodged Reiner’s blow and I twisted my ankle in the process.”

“You should be more careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

Annie scoffed. “That’s clearly obvious.” She said nothing more while dipping your foot in the ice bath. She lifted her head too fast when you winced at the coldness of the water. “Deal with it. We wouldn’t want this to be worse than it already is.”

“Thanks for the concern,” you dryly mentioned.

“What makes you think that my being worried is all fake?” You’re silent, Annie choosing the moment to continue the words she didn’t have any control over. “When the maids prepared this bucket of ice in the kitchens, I was out of the council meeting. When I saw then bringing this up to your chambers, I was alarmed and my mind was a mess of thoughts concerning what happened to you.” At each word, her face held a multitude of emotions that you never saw on her. Her lips became pursed whilst you wordlessly stared at her. “I am not pretending to care for you. How could I pretend when I’m already feeling foreign emotions when it comes to you? It’s my first time feeling this way so I don’t know if I can categorize this as falling in love. But it feels like it. So, for the love of the gods, can’t you see that I’m rambling because of you?”

You didn’t reply, instead, you reached out to the drawer where you kept that ring.

“What are you doing? You should be still right now.”

You pulled out the jewelry box and flipped it open, showing the blonde the ring fashioned in a vine, the centerpiece being a group of small gladiolus flowers with diamonds in their centers.

Annie’s cheeks reddened, flustered at the pretty jewelry. “What?”

Words never came out of you as you took Annie’s left hand. The ring looked pretty on her, the two of you admiring it after you slid the engagement jewelry in her ring finger.

“I now accept you as my fiancé, my future lover, and holder of my heart. Annie Leonhart, may our eternal spring bloom for centuries, and may your god of the winds bless us with his idyllic ballads.” Annie’s eyes were wide and you can see your reflection on them, along with constellations that lit up her irises. You placed your forehead against hers, looking straight into her flushed face. “They were right, this is the birth of a romance.”

And as you two kissed for the first time, the gods were rejoicing in their thrones, each of your prayers answered — your love finally etched in a whimsical melody.

#annie #annie leonhart x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #princess!reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk x reader #annie leonhart x you

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pilferingapples · 2 years

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akallabeth-joie said: @pilferingapples Opinions? Plz? Very much in a mood to discuss meta and characterizations…

y’know what, same, the Mood is here, let’s see how much I can write before I fall over (also I’m myself so this is more thoughts on the relationship dynamics (general) than the relationship dynamics (ship specific, for the most part, but maybe some of that will appear? IDK it’s 2 am) (post I’m replying to is here! making a new one for reply bc Wow That’s Long, but do go look, it’s got lovely synopsis thoughts about all the Ami/Ami pairs, ALL OF THEM)

Prouvaire and Bahorel - eeey yeah of course I have papersfull of Thoughts on this one:P I think I’ve said it before, but I always imagine their relationship as being very much built on Yes And--it’s the nature of the branch of Romanticism they’re both grown from. And while that makes them ,as you say, A Lot to everyone else, it makes hanging out together feel exceptionally easy and unpressured to them-- here’s someone who will not tell them to Calm Down or Be Practical or dial it back even one bit, or blink and ask terrible mood-killing questions like “why though” when they have a Brilliant Scheme. Yes they’re dueling each other at midnight with rapiers on the roof of Notre Dame, no it doesn’t mean they’ve had a falling out, do you have any idea how much coordination this duel took to set up? Also I think they’re sort of quietly and subtly set up as a sublime/grotesque duo, like Enjolras and Grantaire-- but a functional one, united and not divided by them both sharing a devotion to the Ideal (which is, of course, Romanticism). Melancholy and laughter/ comedy, one priest-coded and devoted to the Grand Ideas, and one a hedonistic walking scandal deep into the life of the street--but they come to the barricade together, apart from the Quartet of Enjolras-Combeferre-Courfeyrac-Feuilly, and they die in the same attack (with wounds that amazingly echo Enjolras and Grantaire, yet--the priest-prophet type taken out with a volley of bullets, the earthier member of the duo taken out with one fatal strike) . They can’t know the Death Thing of course (,..but they would doubtless be Very Satisfied, that is indeed somewhat the point of that) , but given the mutual Romanticism, there is a seriously nonzero chance they talk about each other this way by mutual agreement.

Feuilly and Bahorel - man it took me forEVer to come to any solid grasp of how I think they’d interact but then I learned more about French Romanticists and especially French Romanticist Republicans and the Polish cause and like. Oh. OOOOOHHHH OK, Yeah, They Get Along GREAT, mutual Outrage About Politics buddies. I feel like--given their mutual and undoubtable level of political commitment-- Feuilly, with his extreme earnestness and borderline baffling faith in humanity, would actually balance well with Bahorel’s greater snarkiness and Old Campaigner jadedness about some aspects of life. It’s a good vibe? I like the idea of it. ...Pretty much no one who writes them together writes them like this, but it’s how I see them and in that framework I dig it :P

Enjolras and Bahorel- gad I’ve come around to being fascinated by this relationship precisely because they aren’t , by all signs, a particularly load-bearing relationship for each other. They aren’t completing and correcting each other, they aren’t two sides of the same coin, they aren’t Domestic Partners Sharing Everything, they aren’t super invested in each others’ social lives or personal non-revolution activities, they’re not each others’ living Ideal of anything. They’re just. Friends with a shared goal who’ve been through a lot together because of that shared goal. It’s a good kind of friendship to have! And when I say that, I think they share that goal in a specific emotional way the others don’t ; they’re the two Lifers of the Revolution. They’ve both given their lives to the actual, practical combat-and-conspiracy act of it to a degree I don’t think the rest of the Amis have. Bahorel’s been doing the Street Revolutionary thing for over a decade ; he is literally introduced in his first line with that. Enjolras is younger and hasn’t been active as long, but he’s made it his whole existence. I think that (potentially!) gives them a point of understanding that’s unique to them among their friends.

Enjolras and Joly- I feel like this is a friendship where they don’t really “ get “ each other at all-- Joly is about as far from Enjolras’ High Idealism as he can get and still be Not Grantaire-- but are still nonetheless very fond of each other. Lots of “ are ya winning, buddy?” confused but sincere encouragement on both sides. Also fascinating to me that Joly, not Combeferre, is the friend that Enjolras associates most with Science!

Combeferre and Joly- oh geez I need to go to bed but I can’t not talk about these two now I think?? They’re definitely both medical students (for at least a while!), they’ve obviously got a ton of shared interests (scientific progress! the workings of the human body! Maybe Polyamory In a Utopian Socialist Way??) and they do both serve as something of the Dreamer in their respective wings of the group, but at the same time I feel like the difference between them is really summed up in that moment on the barricade when Combeferre is agonizing over life, death, and the moral cost of killing and Joly’s cheerfully asserting that cats are proof of a loving god. Both are extremely understandable, to be clear! just wow, on a fundamental personality level they see the world in SUCH different ways? Their conversations are probably very in -sync so long as they’re talking about science and progress and then veer wildly into the weeds if they get into PhilosophyXD

Combeferre and Grantaire- oh hey it’s the raging Tire Fire of Doubt!! both of them are drawn to more decisive and pragmatic people ( and especially to the same decisive and pragmatic person, yet) and Combeferre especially surrounds himself with the people most likely to be direct and focused in a way that’s helpful for the guy whose impulse in a shooting battle is to start musing on the humanity of his opponent. Seriously, it took me a while to notice this, but with the obvious exception of Marius, everyone that Combeferre specifically gets dialogue with--Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Feuilly- is someone who is ..I’ll say “ not real prone to getting bogged in Doubt and Moderation” . And on the other side, the people that Grantaire hangs out with most are...well, gentle and patient with fools , in a way that Combeferre really isn’t but that Grantaire clearly needs. The two of them are , obviously, friends, but I can’t see them seeking one-on-one hangout time often.

..ok it’s 4:30 and also Tumblr is starting to get weird on this , I’m gonna shut off the Ramble here

#yeah this is mostly about Bahorel and-- relationships #I will not apologize or feign embarassment everyone knows that he's my blorbo here #plus like. What. Am I gonna talk about COURFEYRAC? I don't understand Courfeyrac #Courfeyrac goes to bed at 10 #he's a different order of being than me #I got nothing to say there

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plant-flwrs · 4 years

Note

i just read house unity and i am in tears!! it's so beautifully written, you must be an author bc that is pure TALENT 😭✨ if you don't mind can i request george x soft hufflepuff reader? she's kinda pure and george is like ily let's be together. thx!!

budding romance // george weasley

masterlist!

a/n: um UR TOO NICE!!! thank you so much!!! I do not mind in the slightest, so I hope you like it hehe! um i also love hufflepuffs so much they are like the best house (coming from a ravenclaw) my sister is a hufflepuff and like three of my good friends are hufflepuffs so y’all are the best and i have a major soft spot for u.

i’ve always found something about botany and plants incredibly romantic, so if this just sounds like a fanfiction for plants, you know why lol. I also made George a bit soft in this so i hope you don’t mind that either <3 n e ways, i hope you enjoy this! thanks for requesting! also sorry this took so long :( i had a bit of a hard time finding a solid idea but i think it worked out :) like, reblog, or leave any feedback if you’d like!

summary: George needs a tutor for Herbology, but has no plans on learning.

(3k)

--------

The back of your neck was particularly warm, and you hadn’t decided if it was because of the blazing sun shining through the Herbology classroom glass ceiling, or the fact that George Weasley was staring at the back of your head.

Your delicate fingers traced the back of the Dittany plant, feeling the bumps and lines of the veins that trailed to the stem. You wrote down some observations in your worn notebook, before glancing back at the plant. You picked up a pair of garden scissors, prepared to cut the plant at the stem.

“George Weasley is looking over here,” your friend whispered to you, casting a glance over her shoulder.

“I know, he does it often,” you replied, using a pair of tweezers to pull apart the Dittany.

“Do you think he needs something?” she asked, returning back to her own plant.

“I just figured he was copying what I was doing,” you wiped a bit of moisture off of your hand and onto your apron, taking the opportunity to look over your shoulder.

George’s eyes met yours, and his face flushed with an embarrassed blush. You offered him a kind smile, your eyes falling down to his mangled Dittany plant. You looked back up to his eyes, this time sympathetically smiling at him.

You returned to your own plant, jotting down a few more notes in the stained journal next to you.

Herbology was a strong suit of yours, you had always found it relaxing and simple. The plants offered so much to people, and all you had to do was understand how to care for them properly.

After your eventual dismissal, you rubbed the back of your neck and felt a sunburn, cursing yourself for not bringing some sort of sunscreen in your bag.

You heard an awkward cough from behind you, followed by a weak “hello”. You turned to face the noise and was a little surprised to see the tall redhead it came from.

“Hello,” you said kindly, closing your bag.

“Hi,” he repeated, and you waited for him to continue.

An awkward amount of time passed before he realized he had already said hello.

“Oh, right, um” he coughed again, clearing his throat, “well, I just wanted to introduce myself.”

He paused, holding his hand out for you to shake.

“I know who you are, George,” you replied before he had the chance, smiling at his sentiment, “we’ve gone to school together for 6 years.”

“Yeah, I just usually say it formally,” he retracted his hand after he held onto yours for what he felt was too long, “you know, with an identical brother and all.”

You nodded your head, still smiling at the nervous boy.

“Well, I wanted to ask you something,” he said, his hands gripping the leather straps of his bag nervously.

“In addition to the introduction?” you said, trying to make him less nervous.

He laughed lightly, shifting from one leg to the other.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” you pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, finding it impossible to wipe the smile off your face.

“I was wondering, since you seem so good at it, if you would help me out in Herbology?” he spoke fast, and you nearly missed what he said.

“Oh,” you were surprised by his question. He and his brother had a bit of a reputation at this school, and tutoring didn’t seem to align with it.

“I get if you can’t or something, I know you must be busy with your own studies,” he began, but you waved your hands, cutting him off.

“No, no, I don’t mind,” your smile widened as he let out a relieved breath of air, his chest deflating.

“So you’ll tutor me?” he asked, a crooked smile dawning upon his lips.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” you replied easily, nodding your head.

There were many reasons not to tutor George, you found later. For one, you fell in love with him. Not that you could be blamed, he was incredibly charming and adorable. The other reason was that he actually had very little interest in the plants, and his efforts seemed more geared towards you.

You had asked Professor Sprout if you and George could meet in the Herbology room every Wednesday after her classes. She was skeptical, but she trusted you and allowed you access as long as you promised to keep George in line.

This particular Wednesday seemed no different than the others, besides the growing crush you had formed on George. You waited for him at a stool by the door, a textbook open in front of you, along with your Herbology journal, a few quills, your apron, your gardening equipment, and a dying Dittany plant you planned on showing George how to save. You had been waiting for a while, but George was usually late. You had pulled some Arithmancy homework from your bag and worked on it in the meantime.

“Sorry!” George burst through the door of the greenhouse, a book falling from his fumbling hands, “Sorry, I got caught up with Fred, I’m sorry I’m late.”

More and more apologies flooded from his mouth, like they did most days, as he made his way to the stool next to you.

“It’s alright,” you put away your homework and pulled your textbook to rest on the table between the two of you.

You stood from your stool and began putting on your apron, and moved over to the cabinet with the spare aprons. You got one for George and his hands fumbled behind his back, his focus on you. He watched the side of your face as you peered into the textbook, your fingers tracing the words as you read. You lightly tapped it, pointing it out to George.

“We’ll start here,” you said, sitting back down in your stool.

Your wand hovered over a watering jug on the table, and you cast the Aguamenti charm. Water poured from your wand, filling the jug.

George watched you, nervously turning his fingers over in his lap. He glanced down, noticing the habit, and smoothed his hands over his legs. He brought his hands to his hair and raked them through the red locks, rolling his shoulders back, trying to relax in your presence. He never was able to, and he knew this, but it didn’t stop him from trying.

George couldn’t care any less than he already did about Herbology. He thought it was boring and useless. Not many of his pranks required extensive knowledge about plants, and when they did, the plants were already in use. But, when he saw you from across the room, your glasses teetering on the edge of your nose, your fingers tracing over the lettering in the textbook, hair falling into your face, and that wonderfully sweet smile etched onto your beautiful face, he had to talk to you.

It took him a week or two of staring at the back of your head before you even noticed him. The first time that beautiful smile was for him, he could only think of you for the rest of the day. Fred was tired of it, honestly, George was desperately infatuated with you. George had worked up the tutoring plan with Fred, with the promise that he wouldn’t actually study anything. “We have a reputation to uphold, Georgie!”

“Okay,” your sweet voice pulled George from his thoughts, and his eyes flickered from your face to your hands on the book, “so this is a Dittany.”

Your hands moved from the book to the dying plant. Its previously green leaves were now brown and wilting. Your fingertips moved over the delicate leaves, to the stems, and you raked your fingers through the dry dirt.

George leaned forward on the table, putting his chin to rest in his palm. He listened to you talk about the plant, describing just about everything there was to know. He wondered how you knew all of this from memory, and admired you even more than he thought possible.

You reached over the table to grab the garden scissors, but they were just out of your grasp. George leaned forwards and picked them up, turning them to you. You hadn’t retracted your hand, so when he pulled them from the table, they slid open and you felt a sharp pain on your fingertip.

You pulled your hand away and nursed it in your lap. A red stain appeared on your apron, and soon it spread as your fingertip was flowing with blood. You heard the scissors clatter on the table and George turned to you, already spouting apologies.

“Shit!” he cursed, his body turning towards you and he slouched to become eye level with you in your seat, “I’m so sorry!”

You whimpered involuntarily, bringing your finger to your mouth to suck away some of the blood. You removed your finger and wiped it on your apron, only for the blood to continue flowing.

George was panicking, he felt absolutely awful.

“Can I see it?” you looked up to see his creased brow and guilt- flooded eyes.

You swallowed hard and nodded, offering him your hand timidly.

He gently placed his hands over yours, they were so large they nearly covered them completely. His hands were warm and calloused on the palms from years of gripping his Beater bat. He brought your hand to him, holding it close to his chest as he looked at the small cut.

“I am so sorry,” he repeated, and he rubbed his thumb soothingly on our palm.

He pulled out his wand and looked at you for wordless permission, which you granted him curiously. He hovered over your finger and mumbled a spell you hadn’t heard before. The broken skin on your finger began to mend together, and the stinging had been replaced with an odd numbness. There was still the remains of blood, but George brought his apron to your finger and wiped it away. He still held your hand, looking at your face.

“How did you know that spell?” you asked, surprised when your voice came out as a whisper.

“You learn a lot when you have siblings like mine,” George responded in a whisper, looking at you sheepishly.

His hand was tightening around yours, and his palm rested against the back of your hand. You wrapped your fingers around his thumb, squeezing it lightly.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

George’s eyes flickered down to your lips, and it was so fast you had thought you might have imagined it. Your eyes moved to his lips, noticing that his bottom lip was trapped between his teeth.

“Well, it’s the least I could do,” he responded coolly, dropping your hand back into your lap and straightening his tie as if it had become too tight.

You looked down at your aprons, each stained with small drops of your blood.

“Ew,” you said, trying to wipe off the dried red stain, “Sprout will kill me!”

Pulling his wand back out, he placed it on the table.

“Here,” he moved close to you and wrapped his arms around you. You stiffened, breathing in deeply as his mouth was inches away from your ear. You felt him fumbling with the bow that tied your apron, and his hands grazed your lower back.

Soon the bow was untied, and George hovered for a moment, and he couldn’t help but smile as he smelled your wonderful perfume.

Your apron became lose and he pulled back, his hands moving to your neck as he pulled it off. He did the same with his own and laid them both on the table.

“Tergeo,” he said, pointing his wand at the aprons.

Your apron was as good as new, and so was his, all the dirt and blood removed from the cloth.

You swallowed hard, trying to push the moment of intimacy from your brain. You forced a smile at him, thanking him as you took the apron from him.

“You’re a much better student than you let on, George,” you said, holding the apron loosely in your lap.

He made a scoffing noise, but a genuine and flushed smile fell on his face.

Neither of you felt inclined to nurse a dead plant back to life, in fact, you had no idea what to do. George just stared at you, as if he were waiting for something.

“Um-” George spoke at the same time as you, and you closed your lips.

“No, you go ahead,” he said, bowing his head to you slightly.

You laughed and insisted that you weren’t going to say anything important.

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to take a walk around the grounds,” he said, already standing from his stool, “it’s awfully warm in here.”

George was right, the greenhouses seemed to be particularly warm. You thought some fresh air would be nice.

“Not very interested in the Dittany?” you teased, standing from your stool and moving to clear the table.

“Oh no!” George said nervously, hoping he didn’t offend you, “No, its wonderful-”

“I’m only teasing George, I know Herbology can be boring,” you smiled at him and laughed to yourself when you saw him visibly relax.

He was always so nervous around you, no matter how hard you tried to make him comfortable.

The two of you put away all the supplies, cleaning the table off for Professor Sprout. You had used the water left in the watering jug on any dry looking plants. George watched you going around the greenhouse, the sunshine making you seem like you were glowing. You held your hair behind your shoulder, peering into each pot.

“Alright,” you dusted your hands and tucked away your apron, “let’s go.”

George held the door open for you, and you ducked beneath his outstretched arm as you crossed the threshold. You followed his lead as he led you down a hallway.

“So you like Herbology a lot, right?” George asked you, casting a glance down at your side profile.

“Yeah, I do,” you replied.

“There’s a boy in my house, Neville, he’s great at Herbology,” George spoke fondly, his eyes turning to look out the tall windows.

“Sprout has talked about him,” you said, looking at George’s side profile, “says he’s quite talented.”

“Yeah, he’s great,” George said awkwardly, feeling quite uncertain in your presence.

“What’s your favorite class?” you asked, still trying to make some conversation.

George raked his mind, trying to decide if he should make up an answer to sound smart or be honest. He decided to be honest.

“I quite like lunch,” he said, casting a smile down at you.

You giggled, rolling your eyes playfully. He bumped his shoulder against yours, and you giggled even more.

You were eventually able to fall into a comfortable conversation, walking around the castle with ease. His hands tucked themselves into his pockets, and you crossed your arms over your chest. You eventually stopped in the courtyard, and George led you over to a bench under a large tree.

You sat close to each other, and he was painfully aware of the way your leg rubbed against his. He looked down at the spot where your skirt ended and your tights began, a lump forming in his throat. He looked at the side of your face, you seemed wonderfully content. Your eyes scanned the array of plants in front of you, looking at each of the vibrant flowers that were beginning to bloom.

“I really am sorry about your hand,” he said, partly as an excuse to pick up your hand and pretend to look at the healed cut.

Your felt tingles shoot down your arm at the unexpected touch. You looked at the hair that fell over his forehead as he peered down at your hand, holding it delicately.

“Oh, it’s alright,” you said reassuringly, “accidents happen.”

He smiled at your kindness, your eyes meeting. This time, you were sure he was looking at your lips. Your eyes danced around his face, and you felt your lips curling into a smile as he watched them.

“Would you mind if-” he croaked out, but the words seemed to be caught in his throat.

You giggled, and he dropped your hand, his head rolling back as a bought of laughter came from him. He suddenly seemed the most relaxed he had ever been.

Suddenly, when his head came to face yours again, his hands snaked up to hold your cheeks. Your eyes widened, and your smile did too. He brought your face to his, and you had realized what he was going to ask you just a second ago.

His hands were warm, and the callouses felt nice against your soft cheeks. His kiss was soft and gentle, and he waited for you to reciprocate. Your hands traveled up to wrap around his neck, and the second your fingers tangled themselves in his hair, his kiss intensified.

One of his hands traveled down to your neck, and his thumb grazed your jaw. The other slithered to your hair, and he lightly pushed your face even closer to his. Your nose pressed into his cheek and you leaned closer, your shoulder bumping into his. His tongue trailed over your bottom lip, and you sighed, opening your mouth to his.

“Ew! Get a room!”

You heard two voices shouting towards you. You pulled away, much to George’s dismay, who stayed in the same place with his eyes closed.

You looked over George’s shoulder and saw his brother and his friend.

“George,” you nudged him, casting your blushing cheeks and sheepish smile down at your lap, “I think you’re needed.”

George groaned, opening his eyes slowly. His hand was still tangled in your hair, and he slowly removed it. You felt chills as his hand raked over your neck and down your yellow tie, attempting to keep your close.

“What?” he said so poisonously, that your eyes widened.

“Keep it in your pants!” the younger redhead called out, shoving his shoulder against his friends, laughing.

“I swear to-” you heard George mumbled, already moving from his seat next to you and off to his brother.

The smaller redhead shoved his books into Harry’s chest, setting off in a run. Harry laughed loudly as George chased after his younger brother. George pulled his wand from his waistband, pointing it at Ron and easily casting a spell that bound a rope at Ron’s feet. Ron fell to the ground with a thud and George stood over him, smiling evilly.

He looked back at you, watching as you covered an entertained laugh with your hand. His face melted into pure admiration, and he abandoned Ron, leaving him tied up in the grass. George broke out in a jog, determined to hear your sweet laugh.

#george weasley #weasley twins #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #george weasley x y/n #request #harry potter #hogwarts #hufflepuff #fanfic #weasley fic

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clarenecessities · 2 years

Text

1/11/2022

i talked to my successor’s supervisor yesterday about like, reasonable expectations about time, and how she shouldn’t even be trained on other shit for 6 months, so like. of course today they had a meeting on training her to do a job which--at the beginning of my tenure--had an entirely separate, full time temp designated to it.

like i mentioned i’ve been tabulating the data but i haven’t mentioned that like. dude. it’s sinking in how much shit i put into this job. like having to ask sabrina to meet the standards i hold myself to, i’m like... girl, no. you’ll die. one monday took over 700 minutes to scan the mail. like. that’s over 11 hours. for one of five days. and they want her to do all of the mail room shit in 20 hours. i can’t do all the mail room shit in 20 hours. that’s why i asked for more fucking hours in like, august. and i’ve been doing this for years. i have experience she can’t draw on.

they’re going to ask too much of her, and she’s going to leave. and then what? they get another temp, that i’m not there to train? they went through two others before me, and that was pre-pandemic. when all they were asking was for sorting letters into boxes and like, scanning barcodes on UPS labels.

i’ve been doing so much more than i should have. i’ve set an unrealistic precedent. it didn’t matter when i was gonna be doing this indefinitely bc i figured i could just push through until people came back to work, but they’ve been saying they were going to come back since June of 2020. we’re well past the waiting game.

god. fuck. i dunno man. i always said they don’t have a solid grasp on how much just scanning the mail entails, but here i am with the raw data and i’m like shit dude, do i have a solid grasp? just because it’s the easiest part of my job--what about the other shit? there’s more to the mail room, let alone the other 20 hours i spend for my actual company. no fucking wonder i haven’t made content since i was laid up long enough to binge she-ra in two days. kind of amazed i’ve had the energy for anything looking at the sheer number of breaks i’ve worked through. feels like i’m watching a slideshow of capitalism cringe compilation feat. my Bad Choices

#daily clare

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t4tlawlight · 4 years

Photo

Occam's razor is the principle that, of two explanations that account for all the facts, the simpler one is more likely to be correct.

this post is going to cover traits specific to the manga and the television drama, since those are the best adaptations to showcase L’s autism. THIS POST is required reading before you read anything i’m about to type, because it explains what kind of character niche L falls into--an unintentionally autistic coded character. i’ll talk more about that at the end.

i’m going to talk about manga L first, since he’s the original version after all. i’m going to go in order of physical traits, to behavioral, to his character writing. also, tumblr eats posts that have outside links, so i’m going to have my non-tumblr sources in a separate post, here.

anyways, more under the cut!

MANGA/ANIME:

sitting with his legs up and spine bent / sitting on the floor

this is such a big one and its extremely common in ppl with autism. sitting in chairs normally is uncomfortable to outright painful w many ppl with these disorders, myself included. L sitting like that (which, to recall, is a blatant homage to sherlock holmes, another character that is so blatantly autistic coded you can find absolutely ridiculous amounts of writing on the topic) and being like "I HAVE TO SIT LIKE THIS TO THINK PROPERLY" is so autistic. like sitting in a certain way to give you specific sensory stimulus/avoid distracting discomfort and pain is a thing. i found this post (1) written by an autistic person on the topic of sitting in chairs being uncomfortable, and it says as much:

“I suspect that seating discomfort is common in autism (though by no means limited to autistic people). Many of us, particularly as children, benefit greatly from chairs designed to be non-stationary: rocking chairs, “fidget” chairs, and so forth. These can improve focus, compensate for proprioceptive hypo-sensitivity, and alleviate restlessness. In short, many “attention issues” can be fixed simply by providing a little motion for the person sitting. Small change, huge results. That's what accommodations do at their best. They make (often minor) adjustments that have profound impacts.”

so when L says that sitting the way he does, for a specific sensory experience, improves his ability to think, it’s perfectly in line with this idea. Also it’s a good pressure stim.

standing with a slouch / shifting his weight around

to begin: yes! it’s very common for autistic people to stand or walk oddly for a number of different reasons, from physical comorbidity to other issues such as dyspraxia (see: movie L). From an article by YAI (2), an I/DD (intellectual and/or developmental disabilities) community program:

“Kyphosis (a curved spine), collapsed chest, dropped shoulders and even scoliosis are observed in many of our patients. These myriad of postural issues may result from reduced strength, decreased biomechanical stability, or from a sensory impairment, such as apraxia.

Depending on the scene, L has mild to severe kyphosis which is very common in autistic individuals. Other things mentioned in that article if you want to click on it is instability in standing, where you sort of shift your weight around a lot between your feet or rest all of your weight on one foot, which L is literally doing the first time we see all of him.

speaking with a monotone voice.

i obviously can’t show a picture for this one and it honestly depends on the voice actor you find for L, but in the anime in particular L has a very flat tone. a lot of this is bc he has a dry sense of humor but. just know that it’s very common for autistic people to have a flat affect (or go the other way into being too loud/emotive).

his eating habits.

a lot (a LOT) of autistic ppl myself included can only eat certain kinds of food for texture and flavor reasons. HOWEVER there’s a term in the autism community called “samefoods” which is really well put by tumblr users candidlyautistic and autism-asks:

“Samefoods or samefooding is a community word to describe the autistic trait of eating the same food over, and over and over . . . It is part sensory, part routine driven in most cases. A lot of times we samefood because we need that particular mouthfeel / texture / taste, and a lot of times even after that need passes, it turns into a need for routine until you actively dislike that food again.”

“Samefooding on the other hand is closer to a special interest. When I have a samefood (chocolate ice cream, currently), I really, really want that food. I could eat that food endlessly and not get tired of it. I will get upset if I’m not able to have the food in a day. For me, it usually is kind of routine based as well. For instance, with my current samefood, I have some in the evenings and it’s become part of how I wind down from my day.”

we don’t know exactly why L specifically desires sweet food or if he considers it part of his routine, but what we do know is that he really wants to eat sweet food and avoids eating anything other than sweet food, so it could either be that he’s a picky eater and can’t handle savory or he’s samefooding on sweets!

wearing the same clothes

L wears the same clothes every single day. It’s also worth noting that what he does wear is baggy, too-big clothing, the kind that wouldn’t be tight and uncomfortable. once again, sensory issues are a huge thing for autistic individuals. one of my favorite aspects is that in no adaptation does he wear socks. even L wears shoes, he wears them like slippers, not putting them on all the way. people comment that he seems like he’s poor, but we know for a fact that he’s very rich and that wearing these clothes is a personal choice he made.

not caring for himself/outsourcing his self-care

i don’t think one day is exactly canon, rather it’s an exaggeration of what might actually happen--i.e. L doesn’t have a huge closet full of the same outfit, but he does have several versions of the same outfit on rotation; L doesn’t use a human washing machine, but Watari might help him/encourage him to bathe regularly. One Day is a parody comic, but it was made by the creators for a reason and that reason is that L pretty obviously relies on a caretaker (Watari) for his personal needs. Watari, in the manga proper, cooks and cleans and does most things for L. we’ll come back to this topic when we get to the drama though.

doing stimming behaviors

if you don’t know what stimming is, it refers to self-stimulating behaviors, usually involving repetitive movements or sounds. everyone stims to some extent, but in autism it tends to be more obvious, go on for longer, and sometimes be more disruptive to others. it’s often used to help deal with sensory overload, or used to express feelings--think of an autistic person being happy and flapping their hands in the air.

there are a LOT of instances of L displaying stimming behavior, from stacking his food or things on his desk, to spinning in his chair, to biting his fingers/using them to press on his lips, to wriggling and tapping his toes. here are some specific instances:

there are a lot more. i’ll talk about more when we get to dramaverse, but if you rewatch/reread death note it’s definitely worth noting whenever L does something like this!

detective work as a special interest

ok, first and foremost i want to establish what a special interest is. Tumblr user cartoon has my favorite explanation of what a special interest is that i’ve seen to date:

“To have a deep, intense, passionate and incredibly focused / narrowed interest in a certain area of study, subject, topic or thing - to the exclusion of other interests. This interest is something that exists for the long-term, most often lasting for multiple months, years, or even you’re entire life “

L says that he only does detective work because it’s a hobby, and he finds it entertaining. We’ve also seen that he’s been at it for quite some time--if you take side content (the wammy’s house comic, LABB) seriously, then he’s been at it since childhood, with unwavering interest. it definitely comes across to me as L having a special interest in detective work, rather than it just being a normal hobby or a job for him, especially since he says it isn’t out of any moral obligation.

germaphobia

Germaphobia is very common for individuals with autism. a lot of the time it’s actually sensory issues associated with “dirty” things, and a lot of the time it’s because features of OCD are heavily comorbid with autism, including contamination OCD and such fears. regardless of the reason, though, L’s aversion to touching Bad Things is a very autistic behavior, and so is his resulting quirk that he tends to hold things in a very odd manner!

muted emotional expression

this is getting more into L’s character, but L tends to feel and express emotions in a very muted way. not to say he doesn’t have them, but for instance in the example above, L doesn’t have a solid grasp on what exactly he’s feeling. he thinks he might be acting irrationally and overemotionally because he logically should be afraid, but he isn’t sure, and none of these emotions present themselves visibly.

i’ve also seen it said that Ukita’s death is another good example of his muted response to emotion--he tells Aizawa to stay rational and his voice doesn’t waver as he tells him as much, but he holds himself tightly. for someone with poor emotional competence, these physical signs of distress can be hard to read in oneself, but Aizawa (a man who is extremely in-tune with his emotions) can tell immediately.

high logic, low empathy

L is also a character who, like many autistic people, lacks a certain degree of empathy. it’s not that he doesn’t have any, but it’s limited enough--and he values logic over it enough--that he’s willing to make extreme decisions and take a “ends justify the means” approach (such as using people as bait.) in the example above, L takes a moment to work through what it must actually feel like, which rings as very autistic.

bluntness/not caring about social convention

there are so many examples of this i honestly could list them all day, but L is a character who is very to-the-point and doesn’t care about mincing his words. he can be outright rude to the people around him, especially if he considers them not worth basic courtesy. see: Matsuda.

DRAMAVERSE

if you all knew me you should have known this section is inevitable. i’m not going to talk about every single adaptation because i do not have the time and the only other adaptation that is meaningful in that regard is the movieverse (i am fairly certain that movie L is dyspraxic) but on account of the fact that i don’t care about them i won’t subject you all to them here.

anyway, drama L shows much the same traits as animanga L above (they are, after all, technically the same character) but he displays them in different ways.

he has a much more advanced degree of germaphobia, with Watari saying he’s sensitive to outside air and spraying everyone who enters his space with disinfectant, but not making them wash their hands or anything like that, so we can kind of tell that his issues are more rooted, again, in a fear of germs rather than any actual medical issue. he wants to feel as though he is clean, not necessarily actually be clean. this is very common in contamination OCD, which has a high comorbidity with autism. (my girlfriend has a very good headcanon post about drama L and OCD that isn’t so much analysis than just plain fun, but it’s worth a read!)

he stims, but he has a different array of stims than animanga L--he chews on his jelly pouch bottles,

he tosses it between his hands,

he kicks his feet,

and he bounces in his chair.

he still sits in an unconventional manner. he still samefoods, this time even more exclusively--he only eats Lucky Charge jelly pouches and nutritional bars. Watari onscreen puts his shirts on for him, as well as cooking, cleaning, and mending his clothes for him.

however, there are a few traits that are drama-exclusive that i think really add to an analysis of his autism!

social scripting

social scripting and echolalic scripting are both commonly described as “scripting,” but are very different! echolalic scripting is like echolalia, but echolalic scripting is the recitation of longer passages of dialogue from things the individual has heard before. but social scripting is when you memorize common conversations so you can rattle it off without worrying too much! this can be very handy, such as exchanging basic pleasantries or ordering food, but it can also backfire if someone responds in a way your script’s not set up for. you can find more information on the difference in this video (3).

now, this relates to L in that there are two separate scenes where L says the same thing, rather inappropriately:

L: When I consider Kira’s personality, could it be that the strong-willed daughter is Kira? Or could that sweet-looking son of yours surprise us by proving to be him? You never know what humans are hiding beneath the surface... Soichiro: Enough. L: Sorry. It was just a joke.

-- Episode 2

L: Light-kun. Oh, I’m sorry... If I called you “Yagami-san,” it would be the same as what I call your father. Light: That’s okay. Call me whatever you want. L: Then what about Kira? (silence) L: It's a joke.

-- Episode 4

one could say that L just has a terrible sense of humor--and, of course, having a poor grasp of humor is common with autistic individuals--but the fact that he says nearly the same thing as a defense twice makes me feel as though he has it rehearsed as a defense when people react poorly to things he’s said, which happens often.

mirroring and echolalia

echolalia was briefly covered in the previous example, but for those unaware, via wikipedia (4):

Echolalia is the unsolicited repetition of vocalizations made by another person (when repeated by the same person, it is called palilalia). In its profound form it is automatic and effortless.

mirroring, on the other hand, is explained as such, also via wikipedia (5):

Mirroring is the behavior in which one person unconsciously imitates the gesture, speech pattern, or attitude of another. Mirroring often occurs in social situations, particularly in the company of close friends or family. The concept often affects other individuals' notions about the individual that is exhibiting mirroring behaviors, which can lead to the individual building rapport with others.

both of these are very common in autism, and they’re exemplified while L’s character is established watching his favorite TV show, Owarai Paradise. On one occasion, he’s watching the show and this dialogue happens:

Hiroshi: Despite never telling her how I felt, I still got dumped. I am Hiroshi. Watari: Who was this one again? L: He is Hiroshi. Hiroshi: I am Hiroshi. I am Hiroshi.

-- Episode 2

it’s important to note that in Japanese, “He is Hiroshi” and “I am Hiroshi” are said, at least in this instance, exactly the same, so L is echoing precisely what he’s heard.

On another occasion, L is again watching the show with a glass of wine (seemingly acquired simply to imitate the characters onscreen, as he never drinks it) and when the characters onscreen toast their glasses, L does the same, mirroring them.

CONCLUSION

I linked a post at the very beginning of this analysis talking about how characters are unintentionally autistic coded, and it’s important to understand how this unintentional coding is different from a headcanon--i didn’t make up these traits. they aren’t something that only exist in my head that i ascribe to L for fun.

i made this analysis both because i wanted to share L’s autistic coding in one cohesive place, because plenty of people have made lists before, but none that i could find that included so many examples with images and explanations--and i also made it because of the old ryuzaki persona “theory.”

for those unaware, the ryuzaki persona headcanon suggests that L faked all of these traits in order to make people uncomfortable, to put them off-guard and better mask his identity. i’ve seen posts about people claiming that nobody could actually behave in these ways, that L would surely be unhappy and uncomfortable sitting like that, or eating like that, or engaging in any of these behaviors. I’ve seen some people outright say that L isn’t autistic, but his persona is--that is, he’s pretending to be autistic.

i named this essay “occam’s razor” because, to me, L being autistic is the simplest answer to account for all of these traits. claiming that an autistic coded character is faking it is ableist and it just doesn’t make sense with anything else we know about his character.

but if you want to know more about that, i recommend reading eyecicles’ first!L tag. it’s debunked it in more ways than i ever could.

anyways, in conclusion