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waterlilydrops · 20 days

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Unexpected Victory

pairing: Oscar Piastri x fem!reader

summary: this is a sacred war, hastily launched through deliberately planning, masturbation and seduction.

word count: 2.6k

warning: 18+ only, nsfw, explicit sex content, masturbation(f), thigh fucking, oral sex(f received),dirty talk, If you feel uncomfortable, please exit promptly.

notes: try to write this plot: the ascetic climaxes, the libertine begs for mercy. :) English is not my native language, feel free to correct me if there are any mistakes.

You knocked on the door, “Osc,” you called out, “Are you still not done with your bath?”

“I’m done,” came Oscar’s muffled voice from behind the bathroom door, but before he could finish saying “I’m drying myself” you simply pushed open the unlocked door and walked in.

A rush of warm, steamy air greeted you, and tiny droplets of water condensed on your skin. You furrowed your brow, shook your head, and found Oscar standing awkwardly in the tub, his muscled body draped in a white towel, his damp brownlocks clinging haphazardly.

Oscar looked embarrassed as you chuckled nonchalantly, your mischievous eyes gleaming.

“You’d better finish your sentences in one go, then you won’t be so awkward. But it’s fine now,” you said, walking over to the sink and placing your belongings on the countertop before reaching up to open the cabinet.

Oscar then realized what you had brought in: a dildo, quite sizable, with even some prominent veins on the shaft.

You took out lube from the cabinet, squeezed some onto your hand, leaned against the counter, began applying the shiny paste around the opening. Soon, your pussy started secreting clear liquid as your fingers moved and stirred. You squeezed some more, smoothly inserting two fingers inside, slowly moving and stirring.

Oscar swallowed hard, turning his face slightly away to continue wiping his body, but the arousal was somewhat uncontrollable. Yet, he couldn’t help but steal glances at you.

Your soft had already taken in three fingers, the faint sound of water accompanying your exploration from time to time. With one hand braced against the sink, your beautiful hair falling over your shoulders, your tits gently swayed with your body’s movements, and your butt tempted his desire to knead.

Oscar tried to tear his gaze away from you, but he failed; his breath became rapid. His gaze couldn’t escape, as if glued tightly to your body, his penis already lifting the towel into a prominent arc beneath his hips, desire raging through his entire being. That was no doubt that you were definitely intentionally tempting him.

You eagerly expected, knowing that this was just another ordinary round in the countless battles between you and Oscar. Whether you’ll emerge victorious remained unknown; after all, your boyfriend had endured almost three days without having sex with you, relying on the power of reason. “No sex before the race”, as he said.

You were quite alike, both naturally drawn to challenge and excitement. So, of course, you’d included having sex with Oscar before the race in your short-term life goals.

You specifically ordered a slightly larger dildo, one that combines vibration and heating functions, cost you quite a bit of money. The lifelike tip almost reached the deepest part of your pussy, hot and firm, the highest level of vibration leaving you unable to resist.

You were aware that if Oscar’s dick could enter, it would provide a more satisfying experience than this one.

He would intimately acquaint himself with every inch of your sensitivity, from the graceful curve of your neck to the gentle arch of your back, and from the plush softness of your lips to the inviting warmth of your inner thighs. Though young, he proved himself a seasoned driver for your pleasure, skillfully maneuvering through the twists and turns of your body’s circuit.

There was no shame in admitting your love for having sex with him: you reveled in the feeling of your lustful core being penetrated, your desires vigorously indulged. You cherished your womanhood and the sensations it brought, and the unique sex experience you shared with him.

You finished stretching, withdrew your fingers, and wiped the juices on the head of the dildo. The prepared pussy lasciviously opened its lips, craving to be filled by the huge object, shimmering with moisture under the bathroom lights. You spread your legs a bit wider, took the dildo and rubbed it around your moistened sex for a few circles. Then, the swollen silicone head aligned with your opening, and you effortlessly pushed it in. After adjusting the angle and pushing it all the way in, you let out a satisfied sigh, turning the vibration to its highest setting, then pushing it in deeper until only the balls remained outside. With the task completed, you satisfied hummed, clenching your butt.

Oscar felt his rationality slipping, barely able to contain his primal urges to exerted all his willpower not to pounce forward, rip out the plastic thing, and replace it with himself. He knew he was a larger than that toy, perfectly capable of satisfying you to the point of multiple orgasms.

Oscar Piastri. His mind was a battlefield where angels and demons clashed incessantly.

His mind was a battlefield where angel and demon clashed incessantly. The angel weakly argued: You should focus on the race! Save your energy. While the demon unleashed its rhetoric: Is it better to let your girlfriend pitifully console herself with a toy or to satisfy her, make her happy? Do you really have no desire for her at all? Don’t you want to passionately caress her breasts and buttocks, make her dripping wet, and have her screaming in ecstasy in your arms?

You turned around, your butt against the edge of the countertop, smiling as you watched Oscar standing stiffly in the bathtub, his muscular body stretching and contracting with his heavy breaths.

He untied the towel, revealing his proudly erect penis, the swollen head already leaking a bit of precum. Oh my god, you whispered inwardly. It was still as pretty as you remembered it.

Of course, you had the ability to start a war. You clenched the dildo in your body tightly, your inner walls tightening around it, honestly transmitting the vibrating sensations to every nerve craving pleasure. You were fully aware of your captivating allure.

You relaxed your waist, adopting a lazy and comfortable posture, maintaining your balance, and began kneading your breasts. The sensation was weighty and soft, the fullness of your flesh creating various curves between your fingers. “Osc...”

“…Hmm,”Oscar took a long breath before managing to utter a response.

“I wanted you to fuck me,” you begged With eyes shimmering with desire.

This was just the first round in your war of seduction.

You naturally assumed oscar would refuse, but you had meticulously planned out a series of strategies for the upcoming skirmishes.

You had even attempted to take matters into your own hands, quite literally, trying to arouse him while he slept by taking off his pants and stroking him to hardness. Just as you were about to take his dick into mouth, Oscar suddenly awoke and swiftly rushed to the bathroom to finish the job himself.

Today, perhaps this time he wouldn’t refuse a blowjob — you had many ways to push his boundaries, and you were confident that you would emerge victorious one day.

The steam in the bathroom had dissipated, leaving only a lingering warmth as the hot water’s temperature gradually waned. You felt a restless heat coursing through you body, intensified by the diligent warmth and vibrations emanating from the dildo within you, causing your legs to weaken slightly.

You watched as Oscar stepped out of the bathtub, using his strong arms to pull you into his embrace. Your back pressed tightly against his reassuring chest, his erect cock nestled against you, sending shivers of anticipation through your body. His rough and powerful hands mercilessly fondling yours breasts, causing you a mix of pain and pleasure. You relaxed, resting head on his shoulder, allowing your tousled hair to scatter messily, softly moaning in sync, and lifting your butt to rub against the large dick about to enter you.

He kissed you, it was way different — his kisses were full of hunger and aggression, unlike the used slow and passionate ones, but you weren’t complaining but rather liking his insatiable side even more.

Oscar’s hand moved slowly downward, you parted your legs, allowing his hand to reach your pussy. He grabbed the base of the toy protruding from your opening and slowly, firmly pulled the still vibrating dildo out of your body. He hummed against your skin as his lips trailed from your jaw to your ear where he licked the sensitive lobe and nipped gently at your skin.

Oscar slid the toy back and forth over you, teasing you with shallow thrusts at your folds, eliciting frustrated cries from you. Eventually, he turned off the toy and placed it on the countertop.

You could feel he grabbed your hips, and began to slide his slick cock between your thighs, rubbing up and down your soaking folds. “No, babe,” Oscar said almost cruelly. “You’re not getting fucked tonight.”

He punctuated the lowly-spoken words with a pointed thrust of his hips, grinding firmly against your core, his movements ignited a fervent desire that pulsed through your body.

It felt good — very good, in fact. Not very familiar, but pleasantly so, the familiar tension, the one that made your face heat up and your legs weak, blossoming into a burning, aching need, one that you were sure he'd have no trouble satisfying. Even if this was new to you, you very much liked how it felt, all too glad to let him hold you as close as could be while he thrust again and again.

Fuck, you could feel the tip lightly graze against your pussy, but it’s not enough. how badly you wish you could sink down and bounce on that pretty cock of his.

“I’m gonna make you long the way I’ve longed for you. I’ll drive you wild, make you crave me,” Oscar breathed, interspersing thrusts every so often between the syllables. “Make you so desperate.”

Oscar maintained a slow and steady pace with his erect dick between your thighs, while his hands reached up to fondle your breasts, pinching and gently tugging at your stiff nipples, earning the sultriest moans escaping from your mouth.

“God, you’re dripping already, Y/N? My dick must’ve turned you on so much, hm?”He loved how you squirmed under him when he treated you like this, reduced to a desperate, whining mess.

Oscar reacted to each of your pleasure-filled gasps, tuning into every subtle shift and movement of your body to gauge his actions. He experienced a shiver down his spine each time his slick cockhead grazed against your clit.

“you gonna cum just by my cock rubbing against your pretty pussy, hm? go on then,” he inquired, his teasing tone evident as he slowed his movements, trailing his swollen tip along the length of your slit.

His thrusting became more awkward and disjointed - rough little jerks of his hips as he teetered on the edge of his orgasm. He pulled away, spreading your worn-out legs with one hand and pumped his slicked length with his other. He came, your thighs all covered with a sultry mess of his fluids.

You were on cloud nine. This was simply a monumental success of the century. What could be more thrilling for villains than breaking a calm driver and defiling a golden idol?

Then before you could say anything to provoke him, Oscar was dropping to the floor, kneeling between your legs and burying his face in your essence.

He moved his fingers gently across the bud, drawing circles, the feather light touch made you feel as though stars were dancing across your skin. As he slipped a finger into your pussy, a wave of pleasure surged, your eyes did flutter and your soul almost ascended as you felt the push of his finger against your slick heat.

His tongue and fingers moved in sync, eliciting wet, sloppy sounds from your core as he whispered encouragement. You whined uncontrollably within teases of his hands and lips.

Oscar started with a kitten lick but soon devoured every inch of your wet cunt. And you squirmed under him, pushing yourself against Oscar’s tongue and pressing your head even deeper inside.

“Fuck, Oscar… you are doing so good…” You felt extremely stimulated, accelerated breathing, and nonexistent thoughts. You could only feel the pleasure and pain that was intersected at the time. You felt in the clouds.

It was sloppy yet precise when oscar’s tongue flicked ever so slightly over your clit. You squeezed down on Oscar’s head and the young man didn't relent. His slow, deliberate movements pushed you closer to the brink.

“Oscar, please…” Before you could scream anything, he sucked your clit and your entire body spasms with blinding ecstasy. You clenched your eyes tightly shut as you tugged harder at the strands of Oscar’s hair, pulling him closer in a desperate grasp for more of the intoxicating pleasure he offered.

“You are so pretty when you beg.” He felt your despair through the pain in his scalp, still, he was willing to show a little mercy to his enemy.

With each deliberate motion of his tongue, you edged closer to the precipice of climax. Your lower lip quivered as another moan escaped your lips, prompting him to delicately slide two slender fingers into your core, heightening the sensation even further.

“Oscar…” you whimpered, dizzy, barely abled to stand, and then the orgasm started in the depths of your heart and worked its way outwards, a pulsing that clenched around Oscar’s fingers like a fist and left you sweaty and wrung out as you twitched through it. Your legs were shivering and you held your hands in place as the euphoria from your orgasm filled every inch of your body.

Oscar finally pulled his long fingers out of you, His two fingers are covered in slick moisture, And you could see his face was covered in a thin layer of sweat and drool.

As he kissed you, he could see the blush spread across your cheeks and that made he happy knowing that was because of him, he could see your lashes fluttered, those beautiful eyes he loved staring at him, he pulled away almost half tempted to sink back to your pussy just to see them rolling back.

Oscar gently caressed your body, helping you to relax. You spread your legs, allowing him to gently insert two fingers into your still-opened, inviting passage, stirring and relaxing you. The liquid-filled canal emitted clear sounds of arousal as his fingers worked their magic.

“I won.” You may had won this war, but your battlefield was in ruins.

With a sly grin dancing across his lips, Oscar whispered into your ear, his voice was dry and rumbling. “Not yet. I have said you wouldn’t be fucked, but that doesn’t mean I can’t bring you pleasure.”His hand glided between your breasts, gently exploring the supple curves of your chest, igniting a tantalizing sensation.

You knew that the consequences of this war’s ecstasy and desire would come after the race.

“Up for round two?”

“Just wanna know you if can get hard again.”

“We can continue your war.”

“It’s our war, and who wins or loses is still no outcome…”

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 smut

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linonyang · 1 year

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[19:42] bang chan

pairing: non-idol!bang chan and gender-neutral!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, domestic au, college au

warnings: none

word count: 1.7k words

note: hello i am back! here’s a quite messy and somewhat plotless fic (bc i’m kinda rusty rn in terms of writing rip) that i just did on the spot jhsdfjfadsfa i’m still working on some of my wips so i wrote this for now! i also decided to write this bc i relate with reader enjoying being alone lol i hope you enjoy somehow :DD

tag list: @awooghan @hwangsify @xiaoderrrr @cosmic-railwayxo

It felt relieving to spend an afternoon class alone after spending most of your morning classes with classmates with whom you had no choice but to talk. To sit on your chairs and endlessly communicate with many of them was so exhausting until the point where you’d jokingly admit that you don’t want to talk to anybody for thirty business days to recharge.

Perhaps, it’s not a joke at all?

You’re finally on your way back to your apartment after spending a few hours walking around the campus, cooling down in the library, and finding something to eat for dinner on your own. You did not forget to buy food for two, since somebody’s waiting for your presence in that apartment of yours.

To be frank, Chan totally understood your eagerness to spend some time alone after your classes. He isn’t the type of person who feels tempted to not attend another daunting set of classes the next day just because he’s overwhelmed. He doesn’t get overwhelmed in public settings easily, especially since he is used to being surrounded by people.

Chan has known you for so long that he understands how you work as a human being.

He always waits for you at your apartment until sundown so he can bring you—in a way better mood, obviously—in his arms. If his last class in the morning finishes earlier than usual, he could grab you away from your friends for a comfortingly silent lunch if you’re not feeling to talk to any of them. He will always understand every time you send a text message that you want to spend time with him instead of other people.

It's really because he knows and understands you so well.

When you push your door open to your warm abode, Chan greets you with a lovely smile and long arms wide open. You drop your takeout food on your desk, walk up to him, and fall down onto him where he is, lying on your bed.

“This feels so good…” you drag your voice, almost feeling like you’re embraced by cotton. Chan chuckles and ties his arms tighter around you. “That project we did almost ended me, I had to buy some chicken wings to celebrate my survival,” Chan hears your muffled voice as you rub your face on his soft hoodie.

Chan traces shapes on your back and grins. “You did very well, love. You really deserve those chicken wings,” he almost cracks up at your choice of reward. “But first of all, why chicken wings?”

You snort and look up. You almost forget to answer him after staring at his angelic face for a few seconds. Fixing your position, you propped yourself on your elbows, your body still on top of his.

“Love, can’t I eat something delicious after constantly injecting myself with caffeine in my blood for the past weeks?” you can’t help but giggle at the sight of Chan sighing in disappointment. “I worked hard for that project! If I slacked off by sleeping all day, maybe things wouldn’t be as decent as what happened earlier,” you tell him. Moving some of his curls away from his eyes, you continued, “The coffee was worth it to some extent, I believe.”

He hums, “I believe I need to monitor your caffeine consumption over the next few days, baby.” Chan raises his eyebrows obnoxiously, “And let you eat more chicken wings instead. Is that okay?”

Your eyes light up at the idea of someone else paying for your food, “Yeah, as long as I’m not the one paying!”

He lets go of one of his hands on your back to gently caress your cheek. “So…” he drags his low voice, eyes glinting, making you chuckle in amusement, “Am I allowed to steal you from your friends for the whole month?”

Chan fondly gazes at the sight of joy reflecting on your face, not minding your last statement. He has been so happy being in a relationship with you. He loves you and your whole soul, and he’d treasure all of the times he gets to see your smile. He would give you the world just to give you the joy you deserve after every slump and hurdle you need to pass through. The world has been rough on you, and all he hopes is that he’s someone you can rely on just to feel comforted and validated.

“They’re going to make fun of me when they’ll know that I will abandon them for you,” you shortly stop there to tease him. Chan interprets this as a no from you, and he frowns. “But hey, I’m going to be with you, and I’d love that more if I’m being honest. So, yes, please take me away and bring me everywhere you want to go,” you finally continued.

Chan squeals and returns his arms around you to embrace you tightly once again. “You’re going to stick with me for a very long time, I’m very excited.” He continues to embrace you and rock you together side to side in delight.

You nuzzle his neck and agree, “But can I do the same stuff after class?”

“Oh, your alone time, you mean? Yeah, that’s absolutely fine,” he smirks, “unless you are okay with a clingy man silently following you around…”

You lightly bite his shoulder in response, Chan yelps and laughs. Your actual answer right beside his ear, “I guess that wouldn’t be that bad, right? If the love of my life is the one behaving like the dog he is, I wouldn’t mind him joining me in my alone time.”

“You’ll never let that dog thing die, aren’t you?” Chan remembers that you’re such a tease, and that’s just how you return the same energy since he does joke around with you quite a lot.

You nod in agreement. “You’re my pet, and I’d love to take care of you. I never knew you could bark like an actual dog!”

“I was communicating with Jisung’s dog, _____! He wouldn’t understand if I speak to him in English,” Chan excuses.

Cackling, you bring yourself up, away from Chan’s arms. “Oh, shut it! You tried so hard to act like a dog, it was cute and funny,” you respond.

Getting out of bed, you reach for the takeout on your table, “Let’s have our dinner in a bit!” You hear your boyfriend groaning and complaining for a solid ten minutes during your whole preparation for your dinner.

When you place the final piece, the glasses, on the table, you feel arms laced around you once again. Chan’s now the one nuzzling your neck, and you can’t help but mumble in amusement, “You are so clingy today, love. Did you miss me that much?”

“I… really do miss you, baby,” he softly spins you around to face him. “And today, maybe I kind of feel the same way as you feel usually, I realized I didn’t have that much time with myself or you today, so I feel like staying with you tonight.”

It is real that birds flock with the same feather. Not that you expected Chan to keep up with the same amount of energy every day, but you know times like this hit him once in a while.

He recharges with you.

You let him stay whenever he wants to be with you for the whole night. Aside from bonding through dinner and dishwashing, you two also get your own peace by doing your own work. It’s a win-win, you once said before, when Chan was feeling clingy like he is right now and both of you are in your own battles—dealing with final exams and projects. You spent the night typing away in your laptops and highlighting a stack of books and ending the day in each other’s arms.

He is so grateful that he gets to stay with you.

You reach for his hand and peck on his tender cheeks. “We’re in this together, I guess,” you purse your lips. “So don’t worry, we have the whole night together as usual. When you wake up tomorrow, I’m still beside you, okay?”

Chan nods and thanks you, pulling the nearest chair for you to sit on. He sits on the chair beside you and lets you put your leg on top of his.

Small acts like this make Chan fall in love with you all over again. There are things that you do that are reserved for him and him only. Those were signs that you’re his and he’s yours.

“Thanks for the dinner, _____,” he mumbles, slowly moving his head on your shoulder. “I’m going to start stealing you from your friends tomorrow, we’ll have lunch together, my treat,” he glances at your face above his. You nod your head and smile in approval, feeling thrilled that you’ll be with him once again, away from many people.

In a world where you get crushed by the weight of demands and pressures, you get to take your time and slow down at night with him. Perhaps you can conclude that Chan being with you hits differently than being alone. His presence is enough for you to feel better, and you hope your own presence can heal him to some extent like what you’re doing right now.

Awaiting by the dark night is the sight of the two of you, snoozing together under the blankets. The skies are pleased with the sight, and they want to give you a night without peril—silence, tranquility, and a beautiful sun to awaken you later on.

When your eyes open, you are welcomed by an adorable snuggling Chan, both arms and legs clinging onto you. You find your phone to check the time, and you decide to give yourself more shut-eye, it is too early to get up and prepare for another exhausting day after all.

Both of you are obviously not ready to face another day, but you two get to return home to see each other, and maybe that’s enough for you to go through the taxing mornings.

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i-did-not-mean-to · 16 days

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MAY-U - Turgon x Caranthir

AH @elentarial, my friend! Have some cheeky Turgon for your nerves!

It was such a blast to write these two again! Thank you very much for submitting them! <3

Characters: Turgon x Caranthir

Prompts: Blind Date - Librarian - That's now how you talk to someone

Words: 2 200

Warnings: /

“No, Moryo, absolutely not,” Maglor spat, leaning suavely against the worn frame as if the half-closed door, obscuring the bigger part of his face, did not in the least disturb him. “You’re going on a date, not to a funeral!”

Grabbing the first item he could lay his hands on, a cherished book about ancient economies, Caranthir let his arm snap back to fling his unusual missile at the unwelcome intruder.

“Oi, I’m merely trying to help you! Nelyo has worked so hard for this,” Maglor lamented, lifting his skilful, pale hands in mock defeat while letting his unfairly handsome face melt into the doleful mien of one unjustly accused of a heinous crime.

“As if,” Caranthir grumbled bitterly. Nevertheless, he started undoing the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons on his shirt again. He’d quite liked the way the colour—a red so rich and dark it looked almost black—had complimented his complexion, but he had to admit that Maglor was much more stylish than him.

He had no other choice but to believe the mouthy fool!

“I think you should wear Curvo’s green shirt,” Maglor went on. “I just so happen to have it here.”

Cocking one eyebrow, Caranthir leaned back slightly. His younger brother was not known for letting anyone borrow his clothes without kicking up a fuss and starting a fight—hence, Maglor must have shamelessly stolen the garment from under the little one’s upturned nose.

“Tyelko’s and Nelyo’s wouldn’t fit you,” Maglor explained. “And you’ve told me one too many times how much you loathe my, if I may say so myself, impeccable and editorial style.”

“What’s wrong with my own clothes?” Caranthir muttered petulantly.

“They’re ugly. We all believe you’re doing it on purpose too! Even Námo wouldn’t be caught dead in those rags…caught dead, get it?”

Slapping his thigh, Maglor tossed his loot across the room with surprising accuracy. “Don’t let Curvo see you in it. And wear the tight pants mom bought for you last Yule!”

Caranthir grimaced—he hated those trousers with a burning passion. They made his legs look pathetically spindly and revealed his deplorable lack of a well-rounded, bouncy behind to anyone with even just a single involuntarily straying eye.

“Someone is waiting to meet you,” Maglor grinned. “Do you not owe it to them to at least pretend you’re somewhat of a catch?”

“Káno, stop antagonising him!”

Their oldest brother appeared, as ever surrounded by a halo of red hair and dignified impatience. “You look nice, Moryo. Wear the Yule-pants! And comb your hair properly!”

“This is ludicrous!” Turgon grunted as he was tempted to brace his feet against the wall to tear at the door with his whole body weight like some ridiculous character in an animated TV show for children. “Let me out, you idiot!”

“Say you’ll go on the date that I organised for you because I love you!” Fingon screamed through the door. He was stronger than he looked, and—unbeknownst to Turgon—he’d roped their sister into helping him keep the door closed despite their brother’s valiant efforts.

Ever since a rather unfortunate accident involving Argon, the cellar door, and about a dozen firefighters, there were no key left in any lock in their house, and manoeuvres such as the one they were enmeshed in at the present moment had to be fought out by strength and stamina alone.

“Fine,” Turgon finally relented. “I’ll go, but you and that wicked vixen of a sister shall do my laundry for two weeks.”

He’d known that it had been a mistake to leave his clean, orderly flat to come to the cesspit of chaos and destruction that was his family home, but his beloved older brother had invited him, and he’d felt compelled to spend some time with his siblings.

After all, they were constantly whining that they never got to see him.

“A blind date! This is real life, not a romantic comedy!” he grumbled as he swept past his giggling siblings to find something appropriate to wear.

“You can’t tell me that you spend all your time at work in the aisle of the encyclopaedias, Turno,” Fingon chirped. “We all know you’re lonely. As your brother who, it bears repeating, loves you, I’ve unbent the earth to secure this prime candidate for you.”

“Pah! We shall see!” Once more, Turgon was woefully certain that he was walking right into a trap, but—where his family was concerned—he couldn’t help trying to keep them happy and safe, and so he took his woollen coat off the hanger and went off to his date as one rode into battle: grim and determined not to fail.

Pacing up and down the street in which the small, cosy restaurant lay, Caranthir wondered for the seventeenth time whether he should not simply sneak away.

He could simply go to a dark pub and wait a few hours before returning to his familial home with an elaborate lie about where he’d been and what he’d done.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t sure how truthful Maglor’s depiction of their brother’s involvement was—if Nelyo had indeed set up this charmingly casual meeting in a tasteful ambience, there was a distinct chance that he’d also be made aware of Caranthir’s notable absence.

Thus, he traipsed across wetly shining cobbles aimlessly until a deep, full voice resounded behind him, hailing someone—as there was nobody in sight but him, Caranthir correctly deduced that he was the one being addressed in so gruff a manner.

“Hey you! Have you been set up by well-intentioned but ultimately clueless loved ones?”

Whirling around, Caranthir felt his eyes widen as they travelled along a tall, athletic frame that ended in a sharp-featured, alluringly stern face.

“My brothers have coerced me,” he admitted, drawing closer automatically. “They’re convinced that I’ll be eaten by a horde of cats I don’t even have…”

“Ah,” the stranger chuckled knowingly. “Believe it or not—the fate they project for you would be kinder than the one my siblings are painting for my own sorry self. If their teary-eyed prophecies are to be believed, I shall be buried under an avalanche of books that will slowly grind my bones to dust as I decay, ruining the tomes and leaving my family heartbroken.”

“Do you have that many books at least?” Caranthir inquired, feeling oddly captivated by the rich timbre of the stranger’s voice which made him think of spiced hot chocolate and warm plaids on a cold winter’s night.

“I’m a librarian,” the other replied quietly. “Not the most exciting job—hence why Fingon, my oldest brother, thought that I needed an intervention. My name is Turgon, by the way.” “Fingon,” Caranthir repeated slowly, letting the name melt on his tongue. “He does not, by any chance, step out with a tall, lanky ginger?”

“Maedhros, The Beautiful? Why, yes? My brother is obsessed with that man,” Turgon answered without hesitation or false sense of coyness.

“Oh, that blasted liar! I’ll cut the strings of his favourite harp!” Caranthir cursed under his breath. So much for the heroic effort his brother had made on his behalf—he’d simply stuck his head, and possibly other body parts, together with his accursed boyfriend to get their respective boorish brother to agree to a blind date!

“I take it you know the red-haired Wunderkind?” Turgon asked sharply and held open the door.

Without really having noticed that they’d been moving while talking, Caranthir found himself stepping into the fragrant warmth of the restaurant.

“He’s my oldest brother. Not that anyone would believe that, what with him being so handsome and all…”

“Hey! That’s not how you talk to someone—not even yourself. I have no trouble believing that you’re related!” Turgon interrupted cuttingly. “The freckles and fierce look are a dead giveaway!”

Caranthir’s mouth opened and closed a few times without emitting more than a choking wheeze so shocked was he by the matter-of-fact compliment. He’d never been the kind of person to attract much gratuitous flattery, and so he didn’t quite know how to react properly, especially because Turgon’s eyes were confusingly clear and steady as if he’d not just said the single most gratifying thing Caranthir had ever heard.

“So, what is it you do?” Turgon questioned calmly as they were led to a little alcove in the back of the establishment by a discreet, soft-spoken waitress. “Just so I know how much I have to cut back on the ‘boring’ discussions.”

Blinking owlishly, Caranthir had to admit, if only to himself, that it was easy to see similarities between his brother’s sparkling paramour and the dignified but kind beauty sliding into a chair opposite him with perfect grace.

“I’m an accountant,” he croaked. “By all means, tell me about lists and tabulations.”

“Oh, I see why they thought this would be funny,” Turgon grimaced. “If my sister is to be believed, I’m boorish, headstrong, and deplorably tedious in all I say and do.”

“That was not my impression thus far,” Caranthir contradicted diplomatically. “Also, you wouldn’t even want to hear how my brothers describe me.”

“Shy, wicked smart, and as irascible as sensitive,” Turgon shot back without batting an eye. “At least, that is what I seem to recall from the most awkward dinner I’ve ever had to sit through.”

“Oh no,” Caranthir whispered in a long, sighing exhalation. “Nelyo and Káno are the charming ones, in general. You’ve not experienced true awkwardness until you’ve been to one of our family dinners.”

“Is that an invitation?” Turgon grinned. He turned to take the menus the waitress was holding out to them, giving her a grateful smile, and set them down at once without so much as looking at them.

“I didn’t have much faith in this endeavour, but I do not seek to purposefully, petulantly—as my siblings would say—sabotage it. So no, please don’t come to dinner with my six brothers and mad parents!”

“Fingon loves them,” Turgon commented softly. “He speaks very fondly of all of you. Either way, do you feel like proving our siblings wrong…Should we be adventurous?”

He spoke that word as if it was a naughty concept, and Caranthir couldn’t help the surge of frantic, electrifying energy pulsing through his every fibre and driving heat into his face.

“Yes,” he hummed even as his heart started pounding wildly in anticipation.

Turgon struggled to control the uncomely frown of concentration that threatened to overtake his brow; his eyes burned fiercely, and he regretted having given in to vanity and exchanged his glasses for contact lenses.

Why had his face chosen this exact moment to betray him? The corners of his mouth twitched as a soppy smile tried to claw itself to the surface, and his forehead quivered as he attempted to recall every tiny fragment of information about the charming stranger sitting across the table.

Surely, the disgustingly amorous idiots dancing through his parents’ house must have said more about one so extraordinary as Caranthir. Why couldn’t he remember?

Fingon might have had a point after all when he’d accused Turgon of never even listening to anything he said.

His future brother-in-law called him “Moryo”, but every time Turgon’s watery eyes returned to that narrow, beauteous face, all he could see was light.

Not only was this unexpected treasure a sight to behold, but Caranthir was indeed ruthlessly smart. He followed Turgon’s rather theoretical tangent about filing systems effortlessly, interjecting witty comments and clever jibes at all the right moments.

Moreover, he’d instantly agreed to let their waitress compile a tasting menu for them, so—despite his reassuring gravitas and reticent demeanour, he was not as risk-averse as everybody believed and claimed.

In a word, against all odds and despite his own scepticism, Turgon had to concede that his jolly, often frivolous brother had managed to conjure up the man of his dreams.

Maybe, the sullen librarian now mused, he could have spared himself the stress and indignity of this whole ordeal if he’d just been more open to Fingon’s invitations to accompany him to various events that had been attended by not only Maedhros but also his mysterious brothers.

The selection of dessert miniatures was served much too soon, and Turgon glared vindictively at the old clock hanging on a crooked wall. Where had the time gone?

“You don’t have to stay,” Caranthir said sharply, following his gaze. “I think we’ve played the game long enough for them to be satisfied with our effort. I’d totally understand!”

“I don’t live at home,” Turgon replied distractedly. “They don’t expect me back anyway. How much mischievousness have you left in the tank?”

“Years of it,” Caranthir gave back immediately, his voice ringing with conviction and renewed enthusiasm.

“Wouldn’t it be a lovely revenge on our meddling siblings if you wouldn’t go home either?”

“And where am I to hide?”

“I know a place. If you’re not too tired, that is.”

The intense darkness—hell fire and heavenly abyss—of Caranthir’s eyes seemed to swirl like galaxies trapped in finest crystal as he cocked his head curiously.

“Lead the way, handsome stranger,” he said resolutely. “I shall follow you anywhere!”

↬ Masterlist

Thank you so much for joining me on this new adventure.

@fellowshipofthefics here's the next one for May!

Lots of love from me!

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #FOTFICS May Challenge #Fotfics #May Challenge #May AU #Modern AU #Turgon x Caranthir #Turgon #Caranthir #Blind Date #Librarian #That's now how you talk to someone

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button-kin-games · 4 months

Text

Development Diary: Jude's World, Part 5

I am in a pickle with my in-development, a solo journaling game about a plucky preteen protagonist struggling to reunite their warring parents. I’ve done my third play test and come up against a real stinker of a problem: part of the game just isn’t fun.

We talk a lot about 'mechanics', which risks giving the impression that a game is only a thing that needs to work smoothly and efficiently. As if the rules only need to work. But clearly they also need to do a bunch of other things, not least turn process into play. Spark joy, if you will.

I currently have mechanics that work. You can surely play the game as it stands. And about half of the game is also actually fun. What’s not working, in compliance with sod’s law, is the part where I expended the most effort pre-play testing: the storylines.

The idea is to have players have to repeatedly choose whether to spend their time and resources trapping Jude’s parents or to spend it on adding and advancing their storylines. These would be things like having a first job or a first crush, or dealing with the school bully. Seemed like a good idea. In practice though, I just… didn’t want to write about those. And now I need to think about why. I have a few ideas, some easy to grapple with, others not so much.

Problem 1: Who even is Jude? Why should I care?

The current character creation process is a tarot spread that builds the story of Jude’s parents’ relationship. It’s well structured and the prompts work. I’ve found that I come out of this step feeling attached to these two characters, which is good. Meanwhile the character players will play as, their child Jude, is somewhat of a mystery. I need to fix that.

Problem 2: Not enough structure, no limitations

It’s forever the case that creativity thrives on limitations. Currently the storylines are just a set of prompts for potential diary entries. I worried while writing them that I was being overly-prescriptive with what might happen to Jude, but in play I found myself not knowing where to start. I paused, unsure. That’s the kind of friction that will make a lot of players put their pens down and look for something else to do. Myself included. I need to think hard about what would make these more engaging. More structure to limit the choices? In game rewards? A sense that these storylines are creating growth in your protagonist? Or just better, more enticing prompts?

Problem 3: You could easily just not bother

The storylines are mechanically distinct from the rest of the game. They were intended as a balance to the traps, which keys in to one essential theme of the game: it’s not healthy for a preteen to be fully focussed on their parents’ relationship. That balance isn’t baked into any of the mechanics, though. Right now a player could easily just blast through the traps without ever writing about Jude’s life outside of parent trapping. It’s tempting to create a rule that forces engagement with storylines in order to access traps, but that feels aggressive and unlikely to result in fun. Making the storylines fun and easy to write is paramount.

I have a LOT to think about and progress has been slow. Glacial, in fact. Of course it’s January so I’m doing some traditional new year’s reflection and life rebalancing, which will hopefully result in more writing time. Wish me luck!

#indie ttrpg #solo ttrpg #ttrpg #ttrpg dev

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absolutebl · 2 years

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So this is actually three questions.

Who's your favorite BL pairing when it comes to their interactions as characters, regardless of the physical chemistry between the actors or your feelings on the show itself?

Who's your favorite acting pair as far as chemistry between the two, regardless of how you feel about the characters they're playing?

Which BL couple do you like best when considering both of those things?

Oooo, do I detect... a challenge? You didn’t confine me to a country so I’m picking one from each. Also I am not allowing myself to pull from my 10/10 or favorite all rounders. Because honestly who could ever beat We Best Love, To My Star, Until We Meet Again, Color Rush, Semantic Error, Light On Me, or Seven Days? This is me, after all.

Who's your favorite BL pairing when it comes to their interactions as characters, regardless of the physical chemistry between the actors or your feelings on the show itself?

Word of Honor repping for China

Silhouette of Your Voice repping for Japan. I love love LOVE these characters and perhaps I’m influenced by the source yaoi (I Hear the Sunspot) but I don’t care. WHY did we not get more? A remake? ANYTHING.

A First Love Story repping for Korea. Sigh. Just... sigh.

See You After Quarantine? repping for Taiwan (Taiwan gave me the hardest time with this question) but OMG did I love these two so much and want so much more of them together as boyfriends.

Love By Chance (actually a really easy pick despite Thailand’s glut of BL) and yes My Ride was the main challenger but AePete STILL remain one of the few couples I rewatch just for their interactions.

How did I decide? I thought about which characters I really just liked watching them interact with each other as characters, it didn’t have to be a romantic or sexy scene. Also which ones I could imagine writing fanfic for (even though I don’t write fanfic). Also, I had to like the archetypes in play and like BOTH the seme and the uke characters. Usually, I get at least somewhat annoyed with one or the other.

Who's your favorite acting pair as far as chemistry between the two, regardless of how you feel about the characters they're playing?

Okay so I took this to me physical chemistry specifically, and for this one I went with the transference of sexual feedback energy. In that I believed the two characters actually really desire each other. And I do mean each other. For example Nitiman I totally BELIEVE Bboom wanted Jin but not the reverse. I like the moots to moot all the way into bed.... so to speak.

Advance Bravely repping for China (we were ROBBED)

The Novelist repping for Japan, I mean I could go darker and hotter but I can’t be arsed.

Kissable Lips repping for Korea, no really. When I say I can’t wait for these two to do another BL I really mean it, and not just because I’m curious about their pair branding technique.

My Day repping for the Philippines.

HIStory 4 repping for Taiwan, and that is quite the hill to have conquered boys. Congratz.

Why R U? repping for Thailand.

Thailand definitely gave me the hardest time with this one. MaxTul, Zee+ and Mew+? No one talks about Mew’s first series but I was really tempted to drop What the Duck on y’all and watch you squirm. I’m not that mean, tho.

Which BL couple do you like best when considering both of those things?

This is where I made it hard on myself not allowing myself any of my top 10 best BLs. Hummm.... So good sexual chemistry + great characters, both of whom I like and want more of in and out of the sack?

Love O2O repping for China, again with the robbing. So unfair. Did they have good sexual chemistry? I don’t know, but I WANT TO FIND OUT.

Old Fashion Cupcake repping for Japan. This was actually an easy pick.

Love is Science? repping for Taiwan. Of course. I want a whole series with them.

Daisy and Intouch from Secret Crush On You repping for Thailand. Now the codicil on this one is I like the characters but I trust neither the scriptwriter nor the director. I’d like these exact characters to be handed a real honest queer narrative with depth and exploration, as well as light hearted and sexy and romantic. But I want THESE characters. Do I even know if the actors can handle high heat? Nope, but I wanna watch them try.

This was one where a lot of Thai side dishes really got considered HARD. Many of my favorite all rounder main couples I feel like I got enough of them in their series, and actually, I’m satisfied (TanBun in Manner of Death for example). But I had to ask myself if I spend more screen time with those side characters would I still like them as much (like PitchBank in Golden Blood or SanAei in You’re My Sky or KhunKaow in Brothers). I don’t know anymore.

Yes RamKing nearly won, of course they did. But I’m tired of waiting. Also VegasPete, of course.

You didn’t ask, but there are certainly some Thai acting pairs who I think should be handed more meaty roles that have good character + require chemistry like: YinWar, PokeTongue, ToruFirst, ChapGreen, MaxTul (YES MORE) and KarnNat (YES MORE).

Also I will die wanting more from these two fuckers:

More like this:

Giving Good Kiss in BL - Defining Chemistry

11 BLs with the BEST Chemistry

Queer lens (from the director) and chemistry (from the actors) in BL

(source)

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the1975attheirverybest · 10 months

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oooooh fav lyrics??? fuck thats hard. i will not explain why because i want to seem somewhat cool still and not like a total fucking nerd (despite having incredibly in depth reasonings)

The 1975 - ok this is Album has some interesting lyrics because its before he had it all figured out and i fucking love it for that, theres so many fucking contenders for fav lyrics (including all of anobrain, antichrist or The city) the entire abum is just so mmmmm. but if i had to pick an absolute fav id say

"I put your mother through hell, don't you mind I hate your brother as well, don't you mind, don't you mind Oh I was thinking bout killing myself, don't you mind I love you, don't you mind, don't you mind"

and i know i know its a verse but it isnt complete otherwise. Plus i have it tattooed on me so i feel like i had to.

I Like it when you sleep for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it - once again mmm chefs kiss of an album no skips (theyve never made a bad album) and lyricaly very beautiful, i could absolutely nerd out about all of their catalogue tbh. but for this i am excluding Nana and She lays down because theyre...just perfect, and also i sob.

so it would have to be

"And if I believe you Will that make it stop? If I told you I need you Is that what you want?"

"Before you go (please don't go), turn the big light off"

its really easy and tempting to put ballad on here but i think thats because his performance style for it is so visceral and while lyrically its beautiful still i cant imagine myself enjoying them if they were sung by someone else because they need the guts behind it ya know.

A brief enquiry into online relationships - delicious as always matthew thank you this day for our daily bread.

so its either

"I can show you the photographs of you getting on with life I've had dreams where there's blood on you" thank you for referencing the bible matthew very cool.

"You build it to a high to say goodbye Because you're not the same as them" because it is like a fucking gut punch

notes on a conditional form - seasoned to perfection. difficult because Guys is on this album and its so sweet but i dont think its my fav lyrically, for no particular reason. same for roadkill although "i pissed myself on a texan intersection" always has a place in my heart.

"I'm in love, but I'm feeling low For I am just a footprint in the snow" did you need to fucking wreck me or is that just for funsies huh?

"Don't wanna bore you with my frail state of mind "Oh, winner, winner, that's your biggest lie I'm sure that you're fine" I haven't told a lie in quite some time (Quite some time) "You know we'll leave if you keep lying Don't lie behind your (Frail state of mind)"

Being funny in a foreign language - i take 0 slander for this album because its just as brilliant as the others. so first all of part of the band is fucking art and so im excluding it because it should be all of our favs.

"I've been suicidal, you've been gone for weeks If I'm undecided, will you decide for me?W

and

"'Cause, baby, I'll do anything that you wanna I'll try anything that you wanna I'll find myself in the moonlight 'Cause, baby, I want everything that you wanna And I've tried to just be me, like, a thousand times But you're on my mind"

sorry its so long and i couldnt pick just 1 (not a libra but still indecisive) in order to remain seeming somewhat cool and not a total nerd ive refrained from explaining each choice but yeah.

Welllllll……did you HAVE to bring up “Me” AND “Frail State of Mind”?!? Are you trying to make me cry? Cuz it’s almost working.

It’s weird I’ve always kinda thought of Oh Caroline as some of his simpler writing. Not in a bad way. Like “Me” is simple as well. Simplicity has its time and its place and can be wonderful. And it IS wonderful in Oh Caroline. But I’m a layers girlie, so maybe I haven’t been giving this one much attention *runs to listen to it*

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merakiui · 2 years

Note

*VIBRATING at the thought that we could've had that smut scene with CEO!Azul 👀👀👀*

I might read that CEO!Azul again later today and actually fully immerse myself in the story. Cause the first time I read it, I was in public and had to physically restraint myself from screaming and yelling as the story progresses shshsjsjk--

I think I also sorta forgot the fact that the house had an upper-floor, so I just keep having the image of a bungalow for awhile, until I'm reminded of the scene Azul not wanting darling to go upstairs cause of their broken ankle.

The nursery room was, unexpected but I'm not surprised? Also for some reason there's something that sorta haunt (just bad vibes in general--) me how it is placed in the saferoom, in an even lower level from the ground floor. Also, where'd this man get all those plants is still a mystery to me--

Anyway, yeah, CEO!Azul is a *chef's kiss*. The last scene when Darling called him 'ugly', and everything just snapped and went down hill there really just got me (*º ﾛ º *)!!! A reminder that your writings were the reason why I'm now deep in Octavinelle hell <33

-heyyy

👀 it was so tempting to add in!! It was either going to be drunk sex or sex in the nursery, but I wanted the story to be focused more so on the thriller aspects (with some suggestive themes) rather than include a full smut scene. That, and the next Azul thought has plenty of smut. ;D although smut with CEO!Azul would hit very different… orz

I like to think the second floor isn’t as big or expansive as the first floor, so it essentially just exists as extra space. ^^;;; but picturing it as a bungalow is so nice!! I imagine it as the abstract architecture that’s mostly glass. I remember searching fancy glass home for inspiration on his island house lol.

It was also unexpected for me because it was actually included at the last minute while I was editing. The room was originally meant to be just a panic room, but I felt that that wasn’t very surprising. Somewhat anticlimactic, especially since it’s protected by a retinal scanner and a manual passcode. That much security must be hiding something big… I’m glad it’s haunting!! I wanted it to be eerie if it’s placed in something like a safe room because the point of safe rooms is to feel safe and comfortable. But knowing what other purpose that room will serve makes it feel unsafe. As for the plant mystery, he gets them from the mainland and puts them in a plastic container and is very careful when he swims them over in his octopus form!

The last scene was so fun to write!! Originally, the argument was more vicious and nasty, but as I was writing it I thought, “Why is only the reader suffering? Shouldn’t Azul suffer as well?” And then I thought that it would be so good if he just breaks when the reader suggests he’s not as nice or handsome as he tries to project.

Octavinelle hell is inescapable. We’re trapped here forever now. (*´꒳`*)

#twisted chit chat #heyyy11 #ceo azul… my beloved <3

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lady-of-endless · 4 months

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Hello may I request a matchup please? :) I’m a straight female and my name is Xiomara!

I’m very shy, distant, quiet, and a little awkward. Basically a huge introvert at first. However, once I get to know you better or I at least see that you’re comfortable around me, I’ll get comfortable as well :) And once that happens, you could say I become slightly more extroverted. I get louder, laugh more, and am overall less shy, distant, quiet, and awkward. I’m also very sensitive and have tons of trouble speaking up for myself. When getting yelled at or just insulted, I try and act unbothered but I think everyone knows that I’m holding in my tears at that point… (it’s really embarrassing ok don’t judge 🫠) But one thing I can say is that I’m somewhat funny. When I feel comfortable around people or just someone, I usually let more witty and funny comments out. Hobbies I have are photography, gaming, golfing, bowling, board games, jigsaw puzzles, and listening to music! I mostly do these hobbies solo though since I’m either too scared or nervous to ask someone or even a friend to participate with me. My appearance usually consists of grey sweatpants, grey sweatshirt, and black boots— it’s usually my go to outfit since it’s pretty comfortable. At home, my hair is tied in a low ponytail. Outside however, my hair is let down. I let my hair down outside because I’m hella insecure about my side profile. I have a round face, curtain bangs, eye-bags, black hair, and really dark brown eyes :) some people say they look soulless but idk 🤷‍♀️ I think the only thing that’s preventing my eyes look completely soulless is the fact that I commonly express myself through reactions. I’m also 5’5 ft tall. I also tend to speak using a lot of “uh” or “um” because if usually when I don’t say those two words, I end up mixing up my words and my whole sentence just ends up sounding confusing 😬 Also, I smile at almost everything and anything. I’m one of those people where even in awkward, inappropriate, or tense situations— I’ll smile. It’s especially always common for me to smile when I’m nervous. Most people find this trait comical lol. But in situations where I shouldn’t be smiling but do, I never smile to upset people, I smile because I’m either extremely nervous or I just thought of something funny. Another trait I have that I’ve gotten called weird for is how often I laugh during the night rather than the day. I just feel like during the nights I remember more hilarious things than I usually do during the day. I also laugh really loud when I’m alone so I guess hearing loud laughter in the nighttime is in fact weird 🤥

Author's Note: Thank you for your request! I love to get details, it's more fun to write using those. Also, your name is so cool. Hope you'll like it!

I ship you with... Roronoa Zoro!

(lovely gif is not mine, please show appreciation to the OP)

- Your chill nature makes him hang out with you a little more than with the rest. Once you two get comfortable, he'll be even more tempted to spend time with you. He likes to see you get extroverted and laugh more.

- He appreciates the brave face you put on when facing someone's anger or insults, it's honorable. But the thing is that when you're with him, no one will get the chance of getting you to that point. He doesn't hesitate to speak up for you and make sure that no one is messing with you.

- But don't mention it, he doesn't want you or the others to get ideas about his feelings.

- Let more funny and witty comments out, and he'll smirk, looking at you with a proud look on his face.

- Zoro notices your solitude when doing things that you like and he knows all about it, having to go through it as well before meeting the Strawhats. Maybe he won't indulge in every activity but he'll be present there, where you are, doing his own thing and stealing glances at you.

- I can imagine you looking through some photos you took as he looks like he's taking a nap. You'll jolt in shock as he suddenly and naturally drops a random question about the photo you like.

- Oh and also, one day he stubbornly tries to solve one of your puzzles. After such a long time and failed attempts, Zoro is just going to quit frustrated. It's going to be such a funny reaction. He'll tell you that you saw nothing, and walk away.

- Initially he thinks you're being modest about your appearance, not insecure. He finds your traits pleasant to look at. Sanji is surely going to make fun of him when he catches him staring.

- Zoro won't be the one to bluntly compliment you but he will show his admiration through small gestures. For example, when you're talking to him he'll just move a strand of hair from your bangs with a finger. It's such a small gesture but you will get what it means.

- Zoro likes your smile and the way you tend to show it in every situation. However, in time, he learns the meaning of each smile, being able to tell the difference between them. Anxious smile? That's his cue to see if he can do something about it.

- He doesn't mind you mixing up your words if you don't mind him getting the wrong way and getting lost.

- Not going to lie, he's stunned when he hears you laughing at night. He'll either barge into your room to check or drop a comment and a question in the morning, to make sure it wasn't something bad going on.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro op #one piece zoro #one piece matchups #one piece matchup #one piece x reader #one piece x you

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kinocomix · 7 months

Text

Untitled project Devlog #2: Heavy metal is not a single landmass, and it’s actually quite wholesome

When I listen to the doom soundtrack, there’s a part of me that’s always tempted to just do housework. say what you want about Doom’s ability to motivate or energize, but the reason I do it is because the image of someone cleaning their house while blasting all they fear is you is quite amusing to me.

As it turns out, that image I had of someone doing the dishes to Doom being hilarious isn’t that far-fetched, seen as the metal scene takes itself seriously, but the appropriate amount. I think the early 2000’s and what I was personally exposed to may have slightly tainted how I viewed metal. Despite being a lover of the genre myself, I wouldn’t consider myself a metalhead by any stretch of the imagination; I’m far from having the encyclopedic knowledge of metal that others have.

Ronnie James Dio in Metal: A Headbanger's Journey, directed by Sam Dunn

up until a couple of years ago, had you asked me what metal was i would have replied Marilyn Manson, Evanescence and Are you dead yet by children of Bodom– to note I to this day have not heard any of Marilyn Manson’s music nor have i listened to anything else by Children of Bodom. So as you can tell the scope was very narrow. Thankfully though I've since expanded my repertoire to include many other subgenres and bands and I've been very surprised by how vast of a genre it is. This week, I spoke to some wonderful people including the wonderful lads from Fall of Eden, Prominentia and some wonderful folk over on reddit. My goal was to understand their relationship with their music, but also people’s relationship to metal in general: so let's talk about that.

I think it’s important starting out to have a general framework with which to operate in, so by “Metal” I’m referring to any genre of music with big distorted guitars, bass, drums and vocals with a focus on being bombastic and in your face. that includes stuff like Jazz metal, swing metal and fusion metal. we’ll be talking about themes and subject matter in a bit, i’m aware that affects if something falls under certain genres or not.

The first thing I wanted to know about the musicians I spoke to is: why metal? A broad question, definitely, that could easily be answered with “because it’s fun” but it did lead to a lot of informative answers. One thing that came up often is the fact that people discovered the genre at a young age; often this is coupled with the fact that they shared it with someone, be it a friend, sibling, or parent. This is somewhat to be expected: one thing I’ll mention later in this devlog is the fact that humans are naturally social animals so it makes sense that people who love a genre that’s historically and still is to a lesser extent falsely labeled as violent would have fallen in love with it at a young age– partially because people tend to have less prejudice as kids, and because a lot of kids enjoy the naturally loud and rebellious idea of some genres of music.

Another idea that comes up often is catharsis, self expression and the notion of seeing yourself through the music.

To quote Charbel, the lead singer of Fall of Eden:

“the extremes you can go to in order to express yourself, it can be simple and complex”.

Sometimes this is very straight forward, you write a song that evokes themes of sexual assault despite the fact that it’s not necessarily intended:

Korn, Freak on a leash

or you write a song describing how hopeless existence is; how absolutely dark and bleak and meaningless it is to pray but at the very least, you have a loved one with you, and that makes it suck a little less:

Lamb of god, Walk with me in hell

or maybe you write a song about finding strength in hard times, when the word “human” begins to overlap with the meaning of “unity”:

Gojira, Born in winter

other times this is much less obvious:

Alestorm, Keelhauled

MUCH, much less obvious…

Cannibal corpse, Evisceration Plague

My understanding is that while the metal scene is very welcoming, it also doesn’t seem to care much if you don’t get it. which is fair, who am i to question that having written entire sections of my comic in a cipher…

keeping in mind that music changes based off of the social fabric it’s built on (we’ll be discussing that as well as the themes and subject matter in a later devlog) it makes sense to consider metal music as outsider culture, despite the fact that it doesn’t fit the textbook definition of “uneducated naive artist discovered after their death”. Metal music isn’t trying to be weird, it’s just trying to be itself, which happens to be weird. Let's go back to that cannibal corpse song I mentioned earlier. it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to say that people listen to that do so for the same reason they watch horror movies: there’s something mystifying about the weird, the scary, the horrific, the morbidly curious. It’s in our nature to seek those out but better yet– to build communities centered around the enjoyment of these things, and that’s honestly beautiful. There's this very evocative video about outsider music that I think explains well why this makes metal fit into that category:

youtube

Another question I asked was regarding the artistry itself. As artists you either blow up and get suffocated with people’s attention, or you make peace with the fact that you have a couple of buddies that love what you do. I was pleased to hear this translates to metal musicians too. All too often I see the stereotype of the artist or musician frustrated that no one is looking at/listening to their stuff and I've known one or two musicians myself that fit that description. fortunately that does not seem to be the case in real life– though any musician or artist will tell you that it’s never a bad thing if people interact with what you make. One of the most common answers to “what’s the highlight of your career” is always something regarding being acknowledged or validated which I relate to.

left to right: Sergio from Prominentia, me, Bachir from Prominentia. Also my friend Alaa is there peeking up from the table.

As it turns out, a lot of metal musicians are very chill and extremely nice people. Obviously as is the case with all communities there are the inevitable sour apples, whenever anything gets big you inevitably lose some control over what’s happening on a granular level but that’s to be expected. There's something that Sergio said that stuck with me. When I asked him why he became a musician, he talked about how he wanted others to experience the same fun, freeing music that he did. And honestly I can respect that.

When asked about what other genres of music they’d do if not metal, the answers were very diverse. it ranged from everything like synthwave, techno, punk to folk, jazz blues and classical music. It should come as no surprise at this point that metal is actually a very complex genre musically, but you don’t need me for that. There are plenty of online resources that can teach you about that, far better than I could possibly hope to.

While I agree that in some media the aspects of communities built around the enjoyment of art might be presented as a little overblown. I do think they’re inevitably still present.

I’ll leave you with this quote from Bruce Dickinson, lead singer of Iron Maiden:

My intention as the frontman is to try to find the guy who’s right at the back of the 30 000 [attendee] festival and sort of go “Yeah! You!”

devlog updates weekly on tuesdays.

goodbye for now!

#graphic novel #comic #devlog #metal #heavy metal #kinocomix #korn #iron maiden #gojira #lamb of god #alestorm #cannibal corpse

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grimm-rider · 6 months

Text

Entry 30

It’s done. We had to fight Keisuke, and it’s over and done. I couldn’t convince him to give up Nestian’s mother and her Eidolon. They were too connected to his damned ritual. And he was afraid of Nestian’s mom trying to kill him. Which, I mean, yeah of course she was going to try to kill him, he murdered her husband and got her son stuck growing up in another universe without her.

I’ve talked to the others. I’ve talked to Greta. It helped. Somewhat. I think there’s some stuff I’m just going to have to work through on my own. But they all helped to get me moving in the right direction. Again.

But I’ll write more on that when we get to it. I have too much to say about it—better to write it all then rather than write in circles getting it down now and then again when it comes up later.

I went to visit Keisuke basically first thing in the morning. I put it off as long as I could—long enough for us to eat a meal at least and for me to try to think of any other reason we shouldn’t go. Which was ridiculous seeing as I was the one who had brought up to Nestian in the first place! But…I don’t know. Knowing we needed to help Nestian to get his mother back as soon as possible, and knowing I needed to do what I could to try to work this out peacefully despite how the others felt about Keisuke were two separate thoughts that just didn’t interact. They were both just as true.

So with Edeya and Nestian’s help, we teleported back to Artrosa, and made the trek back inside to the chamber housing the Eon Pit.

I asked the others to wait outside for me, until I gave Aenland a signal through the Stone of Farspeech. I didn’t want to spook Keisuke by coming into his demiplane with a group of people who were—besides Greta and Talsune—all hostile towards him. Thankfully, the others agreed to give me time to try to speak to Keisuke one last time.

So I entered the doorway leading into the Nonagon. After walking down a short hallway, I came up a flight of stairs and found myself at the exact spot I usually Plane Shifted into the Nonagon at. Keisuke had his back to me, but his ears shot up at the sound of someone entering his domain. He asked before he turned if it was me, to which I confirmed.

He dropped the spell he had been casting when I spoke. Anyone else would have gotten an immediate Death Clutch—deadly to anyone not as incredibly powerful as my friends and I, and still crippling to even someone more powerful. I apologized for sneaking up on him, which he brushed off, as he seemed almost giddy to reveal what he’d been working on. He kept saying all he’d needed were ‘the time and the place’—which it turns out is what he traded the King in Yellow for his services helping Kostchtchie. He learned about the location of some foreign spymaster’s underground bunker—the place. And the time he needed to attune this ritual to—a moment in which his cousin, the one with Mythic Power he’d told me about so long ago, died for just a short moment.

Keisuke admitted he was getting a bit ahead of himself, as I’d mentioned that I was there to talk about something. He offered a seat at his table and some tea, as always. I took a seat and accepted the warm drink, and explained to Keisuke the real reason I was there. I asked if—since they’d been so much trouble for him recently—I could take Nestian’s mother and her Eidolon off his hands. He regretfully told me that before the Nonagon was fixed that would have sounded like a tempting proposition, but as it was, he needed the Eidolon to complete his ritual. On top of that, removing her now would apparently rip off one of his tails, which was exactly as gruesome as it sounds. He was also concerned for his own safety given that Nestian’s mother had every reason to kill him, even if Nestian was willing to listen on my behalf.

The subject drifted as I tried to think if there was any way to salvage this. Keisuke asked me about our mission to kill Elvanna. If I was still planning to go through with it. What I got out of it. The most obvious answer was that I don’t want the world to be frozen over any more than most people living on Golarian who aren’t fanatic Winter Witches. I prefer not living in an arctic apocalypse—especially if I’m going to try to live forever. That sounds miserable. The world has a lot more to offer me if it’s thriving. Keisuke pointed out that I could survive Elvanna’s apocalypse in Grimm Labyrinthus, but I countered that there was only so much I could do in a demiplane. I know myself—I’m very much a creature of pleasures. I need to experience the highs of living—preferably with Greta at my side. Being holed up in a demiplane would drive me mad.

It was probably a bit rude to point this out to the man who has clearly been spending the majority of his time in a demiplane since the Elvanna of his world froze it over, but it’s not like I was trying to say he was in the wrong for doing that. Just that I wouldn’t choose that life myself.

Talking about that brought Keisuke around to talking a bit about his own universe, the one where Elvanna did win. He’d been marked from a young age as someone meant for greatness—his silver fur meant he was destined to be an oracle or, as it turned out, a shaman. Keisuke was ambitious even back then, and did whatever he had to in order to keep the power in his tribe that he’s been promised—including killing those who spoke against him, claiming he wasn’t using his position to properly speak for the dead.

And then it all came crashing down around him when Elvanna froze his world, destroying his tribe with it. Keisuke tracked down a hole in time—the same one Nestian and Peanut later used. Keisuke believed he was meant to be the first to go through it, but as it turned out his cousin had beaten him to it. She went through first, and in doing so gained everything he felt should have been his.

I asked Keisuke what he planned to do once he had mythic power—hoping for anything I could grab hold of and cling to that might just give me another chance to talk him into some sort of bargain to release Nestian’s family members.

What he said caused it all to come crashing down around me.

He said he would go back and get the friends he was meant to have. He would get the friends and the mythic power that were denied him in one fell swoop. The time and the place he’d been given represented an extremely brief moment in which his cousin had been killed—disintegrated—and he was going to throw his soul back to that moment and take her place when she was meant to be revived. He would be the one with mythic power. He would be the one with friends. He would be the hero. And his cousin would be nothing but a soul lost in the ether.

I knew then that I would have to call the others in, despite how much I desperately wanted any other outcome. He wouldn’t be dissuaded, this was something he’d been working towards for years—something he felt he was owed by the universe itself. And if he went through with what he wanted, he would be taking the place of some sort of mythic hero, and…I liked Keisuke, but he was no hero. It would be a disaster. I would hardly call myself a hero despite doing arguably heroic things for the others’ sake. But Keisuke wouldn’t even play hero for the sake of people he cared about…I don’t know if he knew how to care about someone like that. He wanted friends for the idea of the friends that he felt he was owed, not for what friends actually are.

If he’d wanted real friends, maybe he’d have actually appreciated how hard I tried to keep things from escalating to the point they did.

Keisuke told me that this ritual would take a while—it could be anywhere from 9 hours to 9 days to 9 months, it was hard to say. But he said he would release Nestian’s mother and the Eidolon to the edge of the Eon Pit once it was complete and he no longer needed them. This is what he considered being nice. It was *almost* a compromise, except when I asked him if they would be unharmed, I could tell that he was lying when he said they would be fine. And anything that would bring harm to Nestian’s family was not an acceptable outcome.

Keisuke wanted to start preparing his ritual, and he was going to have to turn on the Nonagon’s defenses, so it was time for me to leave. He commented that I should let him know next time I’m planning on dropping by, since he’d nearly killed me this time. I laughed it off, reminding him that I am a very difficult man to kill.

At the time his response was foreboding, if not puzzling. He agreed with me that I was, in a tone that felt to me like it implied he’d tried to kill me before and knew from experience I was good at escaping death. But that didn’t fit any part of the story I knew of our forgotten past, and it certainly didn’t fit any part of our meetings that I could actually remember.

It made me all the more certain of what I needed to do—like it or not.

I left the Nonagon and began down the hall, but didn’t walk all the way to the door. Instead, when I felt I was out of range of even Keisuke’s sharp hearing, I activated the Stone of Farspeech and let Aenland know that I’d failed, and that we would have to go with his plan instead.

Aenland actually gave his condolences that things didn’t work out the way I’d hoped, before his voice cut out, and a moment later he and the others burst through the door ahead of me. Nevra cast Haste and then began singing as she and Aenland flew past. Nestian pat me on the shoulder—at least I assume it was Nestian. I had closed my eyes, just breathing, listening to them fly towards battle, the start of Keisuke’s ritual in the distance, and then the familiar sound of the Nonagon’s musical alarm sounding as Keisuke’s recorded voice began singing. I steeled myself as I heard Keisuke yell my name, and that we needed to have a conversation. When I opened my eyes, I knew I would find Talsune and Roscoe waiting for me there. I sent Roscoe ahead, then climbed onto Talsune’s back. I’d steeled myself for what I had to do.

I think Talsune knew what I was feeling well enough to know that no words were going to help. Just then his presence, and his own emotions offsetting mine a little, were more than enough.

Then I heard a yelp from Greta echo down the hall, followed by Keisuke in alarm telling whichever of his minions harmed her not to target her again. He sounded like he was being genuine in his desire not to target me, Talsune, or Greta—or at least his desire to not upset me further by harming the two people he knew I was closest to, and who he probably believed were the most likely to side with me if I suddenly switched sides to fight with him.

I would have been willing to hear him out again. Maybe even give talking one more shot. I would have liked that, really. Except for what happened next.

Keisuke called to me that there was an explanation for what was going to happen next—and then he invoked the name of the Grimm Rider. I heard a far-too familiar voice, followed by the sound of Wail of the Banshee being cast. The flickers of dark magic I could see emanating just beyond the staircase were also far too familiar. Because that was my magic. And my voice. The same voice I’d heard through that recorded scry of the Grimm Rider on Triaxus. The same voice I’d heard when Mirror Edeya had me battle The Grimm Rider in her twisted mirror maze.

Talsune swooped up the stairs and flared his wings so we could stop just before a floor to ceiling rainbow colored barrier around what had been Keisuke’s table, where he’d been standing moments prior. Now as I looked up, it appeared as though Keisuke was towering over us. As if the interior of the Nonagon had been shrunk and flung onto a war map on his table.

I looked to where I had heard my voice, and sure enough, there was yet another imitation of myself in my ‘former glory’. What really caught my eye, however, was the door behind him. Like the others, when I’d looked at them last time I was in the Nonagon, this one was replaying the moment Keisuke had caused me the pain and anguish that would allow him to create a simulacrum of me.

Keisuke was standing before a council of cloaked figures, some wearing Norgorber iconography, some wearing Urgathoan symbols. The man who appeared to be the leader had both of our patron’s markings, and he gestured to me—then a Skeletal Champion—and gave the order for me to kill Baba Yaga and to not come back until I’d succeeded. So I turned and left, to do as I was commanded.

It was exactly as he’d described my banishment from his cult to me before.

And then the thin strings connecting Keisuke to his Flesh Puppet Horde snapped, and everyone else in the room went limp.

…

Quite a while ago now, Keisuke told me about how I’d been sent to kill Baba Yaga by his old cult. An obvious suicide mission, meant to get rid of me. He told me not to worry, he’d killed them all for it. They made excellent flesh puppets. He’d said it as if it were to avenge my inevitable death. As if he’d killed them in anger and vengeance over a lost apprentice.

But, no. I was ‘lost’ because of Keisuke. He had sent me on that suicide mission, he had tried to make sure I get destroyed in an impossible task. This is what he must have been alluding to when he’d agreed that I was a hard man to kill. Because he’d expected Baba Yaga to kill me for whatever attempt I made. He hadn’t expected me to game the system and get myself resurrected, to become her Rider, to gain more power than him. He hadn’t expected me to come back a year later with amnesia and no idea who he was, ready to listen to whatever half-truths he fed me.

I listened to him, kept secrets for him, let him very nearly guide me down a path of being someone just like him, believing for so long that he’d saved my life and that I owed my very existence to him. Just to find out I was nothing but a puppet whose strings he’d already tried to cut once before.

I don’t even know how to describe how I felt in the moment. It’s not like the fury I felt at Rasputin for having caused the death that wiped my memories. It wasn’t like the hatred and disgust I felt for Nazhena. It’s not like the distain and loathing I feel for Queen Elvanna.

I was angry. Oh yes, I was very angry. But there was also this aching sadness that gripped at my heart and made me feel hollow. It drew in the fire of my anger that usually encourages me to reap bloody vengeance on someone who’s wronged me, and left it cold.

I did not enjoy fighting Keisuke. I did not enjoy killing Keisuke. Even if my spells had been what snuffed out his life, I would not have offered this death up to either of our gods. Although I wonder if where he did die has its own House of Murder. Abbadon probably has him regardless.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Probably because I would rather not remember and write the gory details of this fight.

But…there are reasons I probably should continue to write every detail. Not because I think I’ll have amnesia again. I’ll get to that soon. I should quit putting off the rest of this.

When I saw the images from my forgotten past, Keisuke quickly tried to explain them away. He said it was fine, because I’d survived and I was stronger now because of it (true, but that doesn’t make what he did to me fine.) He argued that he could see the future and knew that I’d survive (he can, but he did not.)

I told him as much, that just because he can see the future doesn’t mean he foresaw this. He tried to get rid of me, he sent me to die.

Keisuke said fine, if it was going to be like that. He rescinded his protection for me, Talsune, and Greta. His simulacrums and undead would target us just as much as they would the others. Maybe more, if he was out to ‘teach me a lesson’.

Talsune flew us away from the Prismatic Walls, and we dove at a simulacrum that appeared to be of an aasimar with wings made of fire, holding aloft a holy symbol of the same (illegal) dead goddess Edeya had once been interested in. My partner brought his blade down on the woman wreathed in flames, while I took inspiration from her fire and called down an Ectoplasmic Firestorm, which set almost every one of our enemies—except the Grimm Rider, go figure—on fire.

I decided to try to do a bit more against this echo of my past and quickened a Boneshatter. He resisted enough to not have any major bones snap apart, but I definitely heard the telltale cracking from the spell that told me I’d left him with a few fractures.

Unfortunately, Keisuke decided he was going to try to break my favorite pet. There was an artifact in the first room—an artifact which looked like the strange little chip that I’d seen through the image on the 1st door when I’d been looking last time.

It’s almost funny, how I could have discovered what Keisuke did to me so much earlier if I hadn’t quit looking at the doors when I found Nestian’s dad. If I’d had any inkling that knowing what was behind the other two doors would be important to me, and I’d looked, I would have learned before we ever went to the Eon Pit. Maybe we could have done something about Keisuke without the Nonagon being at full power.

Oh well…too late for what-ifs.

When the artifact activated, it shot a Maximized Fireball right in the middle of Nestian, Greta, Edeya, and Roscoe. Nestian, Edeya, and Greta made it through just fine (I will always be grateful to my past self for thinking of gifting Greta that ring. My only regret would be not just proposing to her already. I’ll have to somehow get her an even better ring when I do.)

Roscoe was not destroyed, but he was badly singed, and Keisuke made it clear that breaking what belonged to me in response to us breaking his things was the goal now. I told him fine, because we were going to break a hell of a lot more of his things than he would of mine.

I would be unhappy if I lost Roscoe for good, though. He’s just objectively better than any other undead we’ve encountered. But I wasn’t going to let Keisuke know that or he’d have redoubled his efforts on destroying him.

I didn’t get much time to think about it, though, because a moment later Keisuke covered the entire room with a Wail of the Banshee. My Wail of the Banshee. He was leeching that spell from the simulacrum of me, it’s not that he was just casting a spell I like to use with his own magic, he was literally using my spell. It was a little strange having someone else (well someone other than The Grimm Rider) throwing around magic identical to mine. Usually spellcasters have their own flair, something about their spell is unique to them, as different as a fingerprint or a snowflake. But, other than whatever he had from being a Shaman I assume, everything he had was pilfered power. His spells didn’t have that consistency, that through-line, they were all someone else’s magic tacked on top of his own.

Talsune and I resisted, but I didn’t have much time to think about that either, because then the angel woman hit me with a Heal spell. I really should have worn the Pallid Crystal. I knew that Keisuke knew that weakness, but I just kind of assumed he didn’t have that kind of magic. He implied as much back when I assumed that he’d resurrected me as opposed to raising me as an undead.

But then again, who knows how true that comment was? Maybe he wanted to keep that particular advantage over me close to his chest. I’ll never know now.

Fortunately, before anyone else could try to kill me (namely myself—or the echo thereof), Edeya was able to get a Harm spell over to me and undid the damage the Heal spell did.

Unfortunately, it would be hard for her to get over to me to do that again if it became necessary, because a moment later Nestian’s mother’s eidolon burst through the door she had been held in. And she was under Keisuke’s command. She immediately went after Nestian—likely because Keisuke knew that would hurt him the worst. I could tell it was going to be a nasty bite—one that would rip and then immediately burn with the electricity crackling across her scales. I threw some raw magical protection between him and the eidolon—not quite the Black Rider’s protection, but an approximation using my own magic. Not as powerful, but strong enough to protect my friends when they needed it if I was nearby. Nestian didn’t have to be the only one taking care of everyone, and always get himself beaten up and bloodied in the process.

Keisuke derisively said that I’ve gone soft—that that’s what this was, he just needed to get rid of the others and I would snap out of it. I destroyed the tracks that train of thought was on immediately. I told him that he was desperately trying to go somewhere else to find the group of friends he was supposed to have—these were mine. So, to torture the metaphor, he changed tracks and decided if I wouldn’t come back to him while alive, then he would just kill me and keep me as an obedient undead again.

Man, at least Rasputin never threatened to keep me as a pet after I rejected him.

Afterwards the Grimm Rider went for me, trying to cast a spell—the casting looked like Destruction—but it struck Vigliv’s protections (something the simulacrum thankfully lacked). He then tried to Quicken a Boneshaker on me, but again hit my defenses. My bones blissfully unshaken. Keisuke said something about how he honestly didn’t expect any differently—the simulacrum was fighting his progenitor, it was only natural that a pale imitation couldn’t live up to the original. I’ll admit to being pleased to hear that, despite Keisuke and I being at each other’s throats right that moment. If nothing else, he still had some respect for my power, even if it was questionable if he had any respect for me.

It was hard to keep track of what was going on around the battlefield. The Prismatic Wall was blocking half the room off, so I couldn’t see what Aenland or Illivor were up to, nor the goblin simulacrum or the reaper that went after them. I did hear Keisuke howl in pain and see one tail get rent apart, so I assumed that one of them had killed one of the two simulacrums back there. Then I got to see one of the simulacra get killed—a woman with goggles and multiple flasks of red reactive looking fluids, who appeared to have been paralyzed by Roscoe, if the bullet holes and lack of attempt to dodge anything that was happening around her were any indication. So, another point for my favorite pet. Peanut finished her off while she couldn’t move…saying something about how ‘being mauled by a bear wasn’t on her list yet’?

When the simulacra died, Keisuke howled in pain again as another one of his tails went up in explosive flames. Solidifying the connection between the clones and his tails for anyone who, unlike me, hadn’t already been directly told by him that they were linked.

In response, Keisuke summoned a new undead into the fray. A fucking Demi-lich. I heard the familiar Wail of the Banshee screams, saw that Greta was in the middle of that once again and remembered how that fucking Demi-lich in my bag had hurt her before. I threw the protection of the Black Rider around her, the screams of the damned parting around the black barrier like a river flowing around a rock. Then I saw Aenland’s arrows absolutely obliterate the damned thing in an instant.

I saw the Grimm Rider take his eyes off me. He was looking where I knew Aenland must be, based on where I saw the arrows shoot from. He pointed, and spoke a single word in Necril laced with power.

Nestian cried out, and threw his own protection of the Black Rider around Aenland—muffling the word that would have otherwise snuffed out his life.

Talsune tore into the angelic woman in front of us, then flapped away so I could focus on casting. I turned the full force of my power on The Grimm Rider. My magic—Power Word Kill, Wail of the Banshee, Destruction, all of it—was far too dangerous to have Keisuke and this echo throwing it around at my loved ones in this fight.

So, I ripped my magic away from him. By ripping out the pale imitation’s heart.

Keisuke noted that we really do learn things from one another. I agreed. I had never claimed otherwise.

Then he said he was going to learn from me and turn that method right back on me, since it worked so well on my simulacrum. I fell right back into step with whatever this dance of words was, reminding him that—in his own words—it was just a pale imitation. I wouldn’t be going down so easily.

‘Oh, we’ll see,’ he threatened.

He used some sort of latent power from the Nonagon to shift the position of the simulacrum of Nestian’s father—which was already badly injured courtesy of Roscoe, who I’d set on him so Nestian wouldn’t have to be the one to slay something that looked like his own father. He moved it so it was next to the dying Grimm Rider. The False-Isaac tried to Regenerate the Grimm Rider’s heart—and he did make it grow back, but in the process the positive energy burned inside of his chest where his heart was regrowing, and he died regardless.

So that was horrific. I don’t particularly want to die in any manner, but I think I just found a top contender for worst ways to be killed. And that’s coming from me. I kill people I hate in horrible ways for fun.

A moment later, Nestian flew across the battlefield and tried to finish off the thing wearing his father’s face. But he hesitated at the last moment, and his swing went wide.

So, it wasn’t Nestian who killed the fake Isaac.

It was Edeya.

She used a Quickened Dimension Door and appeared beside Nestian. She pulled him into a hug, so that his head was turned away as she gently said a few words—and the simulacrum slumped to the ground, falling peacefully dead and into a fine red dust as Edeya used Power Word Kill.

The effect it had on Keisuke was anything but peaceful, as two more of his tails tore apart. A moment later Keisuke howled with rage and pain as another unraveled—right before Aenland flew around the corner on Nevra’s back, soaked in his own blood and covered in cuts and burns, and enough blood coming out of his nose that I worried his brain itself was bleeding.

I called Roscoe over—he circled around to avoid the still dominated Eidolon, and landed near Nevra. Talsune and I flew over to meet them. I cast a Quickened Oracle’s Vessel on Aenland, then cast a Mass Inflict Critical Wounds on myself, Roscoe, and Aenland. It was enough to completely heal my wounds, but Roscoe and Aenland still looked like a stiff breeze might do them in. Fortunately for Aenland, he was near Edeya, and she patched him up with her more potent healing magic.

Then that strange artifact activated again, shooting another maximized Fireball at us. Most of us were fine—except for Roscoe, who looked like he was about to be engulfed in flames and likely meet his end, until Nestian threw his Helm of Teleportation to Roscoe—with an extra kick from his Black Rider powers—sending Roscoe safely back into my bag. Preventing Keisuke from having the pleasure of breaking my ‘toy’, and preventing me from losing my favorite pet. I thanked Nestian profusely later.

At the time Keisuke mocked me for going to so much trouble for a ‘broken bag of bones’, but I pointed out that he was a very useful broken bag of bones. Keisuke conceded the point, noting that after this he might see about getting a Baykok of his own—or taking mine. I told him over my dead body—and he wasn’t doing a very good job of that.

Despite his big words, it was clear that he was in a corner, and he knew it. He only had three tails left—and a moment later that was down to two when Nestian’s aunt, the Eidolon, broke free from Keisuke’s domination, and she and Nestian’s mother fused into one being and began tearing apart the Prismatic Walls. She disrupted the first one by throwing some sort of rounded object into it.

While she worked on that, I asked Edeya if she could identify the strange artifact that kept blasting us—assuming its destruction might help with taking down the walls. Edeya asked Illivor to look, as she was closer. Illivor glanced in, identified multiple Explosive Runes, and threw a Greater Dispel Magic into the room to nullify them all.

With the room now safe, I directed Talsune to get us in there and to smash that chip before Keisuke could activate any other defenses we didn’t know about. My partner did without a word from me, knowing my intention as quickly as it entered my mind. He plucked the small object from its stand—it looked almost like it could be a piece of technology from Numeria. A vision washed over him—and by extension me. Keisuke was somewhere in the mountains of Varisia, in a place piled with gold. He picked up the artifact, and when he did the room rumbled and a booming voice spoke to him. Keisuke fled in terror—but Talsune was a master of his own mind, and didn’t let Keisuke’s terror in the vision seep into him. He closed his fist and crushed the chip.

For the first time, Talsune and I were near one of these objects of Keisuke’s when they were destroyed. All of the suffering contained within that artifact—whatever it had once been—burst forth, trying to engulf myself, Talsune, and unfortunate Illivor who had still been a little too close when we’d swooped in.

We all withstood the onslaught, and as we did Keisuke once again howled in pain and anger and fear as he’s now lost all but one tail. The last one that must have been his original—he wasn’t born a nine-tailed kitsune at all, he’d simply stylized himself as one as he gained power. Not that I can judge him on that, with all I’ve done to style myself differently than the life I was born to. That’s just…ambitions for greatness. I don’t think that by itself is a bad thing. It’s the things he did to reach ‘greatness’ that put us on such different paths.

Destroying the chip also destroyed two more Prismatic Walls—just like I’d predicted. Nestian’s mother had already knocked down one wall, and Aenland did…something. It’s hard to say what. I know he used the luck blade, and I know it worked. But I think he might have toyed with time or something? Because on the one hand I feel like I remember the wall starting with nine layers—which fits, because Keisuke. But at the same time I feel like I remember only seven layers when I came up the stairs. And we only ended up destroying seven layers in total.

Anyways, I turned around and took out a diamond from my bag, and cast a Miracle through it. Out of the faceted sides of the diamond, the different spells needed to take down a Prismatic Wall were cast all at once—burning a bunch of scrolls we had on our person as payment in the process. When the diamond crumbled away, that was one less wall. Nestian’s mother cast a spell—I have no idea what she cast, if I didn’t know any better I’d say it was modified through an object like my pocket watch, because the spell didn’t fit any spell I know of. Maybe it was specific to her universe—although I don’t think I’ve ever seen Keisuke use magic that wasn’t in some way recognizable on Golarian.

What she did was…well, it looked like the threw the wall into space. That is the best way I can describe it, even though we were in a Demiplane and the concept of space in a place not directly connected to the material plane is a bit nebulous. Regardless of how she did it, it did get rid of another wall.

And I think Keisuke panicked as we were ripping straight through his defenses to reach him.

He used his luck blade twice to cast a non-existent spell—Mass Harm. I wish there was a Mass Harm, that would be really convenient for me. I guess I could apparently use Miracle to make a Mass Harm, but then I’d need a diamond for it every time and at that point I might as well just let someone die and resurrect them.

…My life is very strange that ‘Mass Harm’ would be more likely to be used for mass healing than for actually ‘harming’ anyone. If I wanted to harm a bunch of people I’d just use Wail of the Banshee, or Massacre, or Fire Storm, or Horrid Wilting…you get my point. I have a lot of ways to kill a lot of people at once. My best way to heal a lot of people at once is significantly weaker than Harm.

The final diamond of his Luck Blade he used to try to force his ritual to successfully complete early.

And it worked.

The Nonagon vanished, nothing but the room the blank simulacrum had been in was left. Only the blank simulacrum standing in the replica of some spymaster’s safehouse was now replaced by a silver haired woman, the remains of a green ray hitting her chest, and her body turning to dust. This was no longer the replica of the room, or the simulacrum. It was the time and the place that Keisuke was trying to fling himself into.

And Keisuke was running down a long hall towards it. We ran after him.

Edeya and Illivor acted first, our resident witches always the smart ones. They both stripped away his defenses with as many uses of Greater Dispel Magic as they could throw in the blink of an eye.

Talsune dove forward. He knew I wanted to reach Keisuke first. I let go of Talsune, trusting him to hold me aloft, as I pulled out the pocket watch. The pocket watch that once belonged to Keisuke, but which I pulled from the Eon Pit and have made my own. I channeled Slay Living through it, and even as Talsune’s blade skewered him, my touch was gentle. I was not aiming for a horrific death. Not this time.

The ritual seemed to have a strange effect on Keisuke’s personal time. The injuries were there, but formed across his body so painfully slowly. The dark flames of Slay Living that normally devoured a body in seconds instead danced across his red-stained white fur for what felt like an eternity.

I knew I couldn’t let him escape—not when I had no idea what might be at stake if he replaced his cousin as one of these mythic ‘heroes’. So I quickened an inflict critical wounds, remembering that he’d once mentioned he didn’t have my gift. The black and purple flames joined and intermixed with the almost ebony flames of Slay Living, twisting together in a dance of death and decay.

Keisuke looked over his shoulder at me. For once I don’t know what emotion I was reading in his eyes. Hate? Fear? Disappointment? Anger? Resignation? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

I told him I was sorry, that I wished this could have ended differently.

It wasn’t a lie. Despite everything, despite how much he hurt me, despite knowing how much he lied, despite all the things he said during this fight…I still didn’t want to kill him. That anger at him was a pile of barely glowing coals and ash by this point, seeing him like this. I couldn’t find it in myself to reach for that burning indignation and thirst for retribution that normally comes so naturally to me.

I don’t know what I wanted to do instead. I don’t think I had any realistic vision of another way forward until I talked to Greta later. I just know that despite everything, it tore at my heart to kill this man.

The others joined in my attack, equally unwilling to risk his escape despite not truly knowing the extent of the consequences like I did. I hadn’t had a chance to tell them what Keisuke told me. All they knew was that he was getting away, and that he’d completed some sort of ritual. They had no idea the full implications of what he was about to do.

For once, I suppose, it was fortunate that Aenland and Nestian were not going to hesitate to attack Keisuke.

Greta was the first to follow up on Talsune’s attack, however. When she pulled away from the strange time anomaly happening around Keisuke, she laid a hand over mine—still white knuckle clutching the pocket watch like a lifeline. No words needed—she was there for me, and she knew that this had not come easily to me unlike most deaths we’d caused. That was more than enough.

The others did what had to be done, with Nevra, Aenland, and Nestian finishing the job in quick succession. Time around Keisuke seemed to start to catch up to him, and I was sure that was the end of it.

But then his form flickered, the familiar displaced from time effect of a Temporal Status overtaking him before the spreading damage could snuff out his life entirely. I recognized a Contingency spell when I saw one—even if I don’t remember the time I saved myself from death by similar means.

However while he was frozen in time, the woman behind him finished dissolved into nothing but a fine dust, and the image of that other place faded away. He’d missed the time. The ritual was over. But with one final push Keisuke popped out of Temporal Stasis, alive but weakened, and stepped through that distorted point of reality into…somewhere else. He looked exhausted. Weak. I don’t think he had a single drop of magic left in him. He swore he would start from the bottom, and build his power up from scratch if that’s what it took. And then he’d come back for us. For me. To avenge himself of everything we’d just taken from him.

He never got a chance…he’ll never get the chance.

Keisuke was so focused on us through the rift in time and space that he didn’t see the man standing behind him. He’d stepped into what looked like some sort of golden casino, and behind him was a finely dressed man. Wielding a flaming glaive. The last I saw of Keisuke was a look of surprise as that glaive cut him down. The man muttered something about the number of temporal anomalies crossing through lately, before the portal snapped shut.

Keisuke’s body was left bleeding out and already dead in some other universe, out of reach.

There wasn’t time to think about it, as the entire Nonagon began to shake. I remembered that early in our fight Keisuke had told us that if we killed him, the Nonagon would break down and take us with it. I’d said then that I’d need to have a Plane Shift ready for when that happened. And I did…and as luck would have it, once Illivor returned to her fox form and her bond with Edeya reinstated itself, there were nine of us.

Because of course there were.

So I cast the spell through the pocket watch. I brought this to a close in a perfect circle, as I used the tool that once belonged to this man who caused so much death and hurt for my friend, and his family, and the people around them, and this time used it to save us all from his own crumbling Demiplane.

I took us to the safest place I could think of in the moment. Home. Grimm Labyrinthus. My own Demiplane. Maybe not as technically intricate as the Nonagon had been. Certainly not built siphoning power from the Eon Pit. But it is mine. Ours. And it is perfect.

I was more drained emotionally than physically when we arrived. I’d honestly not used that many spells, and I wasn’t that badly hurt—although I would need to expend quite a bit of negative energy later to patch Roscoe up. But in the moment, I was just…tired. And sad. And I wasn’t even entirely sure why I was sad. Was it because I’d found out that Keisuke had been lying the entire time, or because I was mourning that we had to kill him? The fact I’d been right, in a way, that what he needed were friends like the ones I’d had? Only he was too blinded by his own desires and obsessions to see it. Some strange mesh of all of these things?

I called Edeya, Aenland, and Nestian over, and just hugged them. I felt like I might pass out, but I held it together (although Nestian’s fur was very cozy). I don’t know what I was trying to say, really.

No. No, that’s a lie, I do know.

I just…wanted them to know I care. That they mean more to me than I can express. That…I’m grateful to have known them, because if I hadn’t I may well have stood with Keisuke today and let something terrible happen, for the sake of power, and for the sake of a friend who wanted nothing more than to erase anything we might have had, believing there was something more out there just for him.

I still can’t bring myself to be mad. I think I kind of pity him. I think I see a very dark mirror when I look at everything he did, and would have done. Not of the Grimm Rider, not this time. But of who I could have been without the others. All that power and no one to care about, to give me a reason to choose something more important than reaching endlessly for more power. No Aenland to call me out when I go too far, or lie to his face, or choose a path that scares him because he knows it ends in self-destruction. No Nestian to…quite frankly not want to disappoint. I’m more afraid of doing something that disappoints Nestian than something that makes him angry. I know I can handle an angry bear in my face. I can’t handle his soft-spoken disappointment. And no Edeya, my fellow Irriseni, my fellow spellcaster. She was the one I felt I had so much in common with when we first started, my confidant when I didn’t trust Aenland and Nestian with my secrets, and look how much she’s changed. She’s learned to be decisive, but she’s also so kind, and so gentle. And…I respect that about her. I could never…would never…limit myself the way she does. Yet she’s decided to do what she feels is the right thing to do, unabashedly, regardless of any jokes we make about her unusual take on pacifism. And she has still found a way to be an amazing witch even with her self-imposed limitations. I think…she’s set a really good example for me.

And, of course, there’s Greta. I don’t think, even with the other three, anything would have changed without Greta giving me that first nudge in the right direction. Being honest with her back in Whitethrone right before we fought Logrivich was one of the hardest, most terrifying things I have ever done. And it was the best decision of my life.

I know Nestian believes Keisuke and I are fundamentally different, but I think he just had the good fortune to have seen me at my best instead of at my worst. Even early on, before I liked or trusted the others, I still knew we were in this together and that I needed to at least act within a range of what they’d consider decent to keep this alliance we’d agreed to in Baba Yaga’s name running smoothly. But I also know for a fact I killed at least a few people in our early fights that Nestian wanted to spare, just because I saw no point in showing mercy to people who might come back and cause problems later. I think I would make a different decision now—I would respect Nestian’s wishes and his logic more than I did back then. I am sure I would still point out that keeping enemies alive might cause us more trouble in the long run—we have to take everything into consideration—but if in this theoretical situation Nestian understood that potential consequence and still wanted to be merciful, I would at the very least do my best to spare them for his sake. Although at this point I think Edeya is the one more likely to be the first to suggest nonviolent means.

Nestian and Edeya went off to make lunch to lighten the mood a bit and give me some time to process things. Aenland lingered for a moment. We talked. He said he’d give me space if I needed it, but he was here for me. He called me his brother. I thanked him to sticking by me, even though I’d been a bit of an ass to him early on. He said he could easily say the same to me. But what’s family for? I agreed, clasping his hand.

Just what I need, to go from being an only child to having a younger brother who is also over a hundred years older than me.

Afterwards I retreated with Greta to our room. I just laid there with her for a long time, in comfortable quiet. After a while I talked to her about how I didn’t even know why I was so upset, because logically I knew Keisuke had been a terrible person who hurt Nestian and his family, and was honestly kind of awful to everyone else around me. We talked a little about how I felt he was like that because he hadn’t had the same fortune I had, to have people around him who loved him enough to stop him. Then Greta said something that set the wheels spinning in my head, about how if I really wanted to give him a second chance, there was always Baba Yaga’s wish. At first it seemed like an immediate dead end—the others wouldn’t be ok with me bringing Keisuke back after everything he’d done and everything that had happened. But Greta pointed something else out. What if he got a fresh start when he came back. Like I had.

And she was absolutely right. If the Grimm Rider had come back like I’d planned when I’d convinced Rasputin to kill me in Taldor with a contingency spell in place, then I wouldn’t be who I am today. The Grimm Rider wouldn’t have teamed up with the others—or if he did it wouldn’t have been as equals. It took me starting over and rediscovering my power alongside my friends to become more than I was.

…

…I’m going to be giving up a lot if I go through with this. If I don’t take this opportunity for Mythic Power, another one probably won’t ever show itself. Keisuke’s ritual was to shunt his soul through time and puppet another person’s body and use their mythic power, rather than having a mythic ascension of his own, so I learned more about how not to get Mythic Power from him than how to get it.

And if I don’t get mythic power, it’s unlikely that I will find a means of immortality. Lichdom was a bust, and whatever Keisuke had going on with that artifact can’t be replicated since we broke it.

There’s no guarantee it’ll even work. I might bring Keisuke back, try to do right by him, and he’ll still turn out as a manipulative murderous bastard…well, more of a manipulative murderous bastard than I am. Then what? If he just goes right back to hurting my friends again, do I have to put him down a second time? If I bring him back I’ll be shouldering the responsibility for what he does.

Ugh. Responsibility is not something I have ever gone looking for. That’s why I told Greta I was never going to try to take over the world or even a country, regardless of how much power I get. Once you have it, what then? You have to manage running a country (or every country), that’s what. Sounds awful.

…

It’s so obvious that one of these things has so many more guaranteed upsides than the other, and one of these things had so many more unknown variables and could just blow up in my face all over again. And for once it’s not Mythic Power that’s the iffy option.

So why in the Nine Hells am I actually considering this?

…

I know why.

I had this chance. I wouldn’t be who I am today without this chance. I wouldn’t have everything I have today without this chance. Sure—I’d have the Grimm Rider’s power still. But what else would I have? Maybe I’d have made an empty demiplane with nothing but undead to lord over, just like Keisuke. Hell, for all I know the Grimm Rider did have a demiplane I simply don’t remember that will remain abandoned forever now. But beyond that, I’d have had nothing. Power, a wish from Baba Yaga, and isolation—because like Baba Yaga said, there was only one person that Calio Caecos trusted. Himself. I have so much more than the Grimm Rider ever did—I had to lose everything to get it, but now I am so much more than I was before.

I want Keisuke to have that same chance. Even if he turns around and screws me over again…at least I could say I tried. At least I could say he actually had that chance, and if it goes wrong again this time it’s all on him.

…I’m going to want some more time to think this through. Not to talk myself out of it, per-se. More…because I’m emotional right now. I am feeling about a dozen things at once, and it’s hard for any one feeling to come to the forefront at any given moment. I feel a whirlwind of emotions and a hollow empty place at the same time. It’s…a lot. I’m not going to make such a big decision like this while I’m in this headspace. Better to wait out the storm. We probably still have…what, a few more days before we kill Queen Elvanna? That…won’t be enough time to get over it, but it should be enough time for me to get my head on straight enough to really think this decision through.

Speaking of wishes, I finally had an opportunity to tell Greta about Baba Yaga’s offer of a second wish—one that had to go to someone else. Obviously, Greta was my first choice from the moment our kindly grandmother told me it couldn’t be for myself. I think ‘whatever your heart desires’ is a pretty good gift. Maybe a little behind ‘a ring that protects against fire’. But what can I do? You don’t outdo the classics.

Afterwards we decided to go back to the dining hall to see what Nestian had made for everyone.

Unfortunately, this extremely long day was quite literally only just beginning (Greta told me not to look at the clock so I just know in my heart what time it was.) While I was having a delicious meal with my family after a fucking awful day, my emotional state finally approaching an approximation of stable after Greta and my talk, I got a sending. From A’pul’a, that weird mythic plant person we met in the sewers who has technically killed Illivor twice now.

They apparently forgot to tell us something important. We needed to go to the royal cemetery immediately. Because someone was trying to create a new Crone Queen. And they asked me specifically not to ruffle the feathers of their bird friend—because he’s a Pharasman.

Of-fucking-course he’d be a Pharasman. Because this day couldn’t get any worse.

#pathfinder #reign of winter #journal entry #warning ahead of time this is a long one #it's 15 pages long #I wrote the first draft in a state of hyperfocus for 12 hours a few days ago #it's one of the few I didn't post immediately and actually went back and edited so it should be a little more polished than usual

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upsidedownwithsteve · 11 months

Note

you’re so cute being excited about opening a new doc! I love that you love it.

I voted for Steve because I’m loyal to a fault but honestly 👀 Eddie is the line cook it fits sooo well to his character (by his character, I mean the way you write him which is my new canon Eddie). Steve imo would fit more as head chef or rly more like waiter/cashier yanno? Maybe somehow turns into steddie x reader idunno!

just gimme more of your work and I’ll have zero complaints.

xoxo

ps that blurb about the initial necklace? ooof, never been so tempted to buy a necklace with the bf’s initial

I’ve been writing all my blurbs on my notes app out of laziness so opening a new doc and setting up the title page makes me so happy 🥲

and you’re too sweet! honestly I considered a steddie moment but I really don’t want it to seem like a rivalry/love triangle and I want this to be a somewhat lengthy fic - writing one boy is a lot easier 😅

you should do it! I think there’s something so sweet about it. I bought myself the tiniest daintiest wee signet ring for my pinky finger and it has my partners initial on it. he melted and it was the cutest thing 🥹

#cutie #ask

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shiningwonderland · 1 year

Text

Ren Jinguji (Repeat)

Translator: Akari (twitter: akari) Proofreader: Raz (twitter: agnadance) Editors: Snail (twitter: herbert_snail), Lacey (twitter: fairyharp)

May — Charmed by Pianoforte

It’s May.

… Yes, it’s already May.

And yet….

I have not been able to practice with Jinguji-san even once.

By imagining him, I could come up with as many melodies as I’d like, but I wonder if it would be dangerous to give them shape without even knowing his singing range….

I can’t ask him to sing a song that isn’t in the right key either, so what should I do…?

After all, it’s a miracle that it was me who became his partner, and above all….

Since Jinguji-san is not interested in music, I was thinking that I shouldn’t take too much of his time, but….

Going on like this is too much… Besides, I want to write songs that make the artist shine the most.

I don’t want to make songs only based on the image I have. That’s different from what he is actually like.

If I’m going to make music, I want to create the best I can.

I’d never want to do something like waste his talent.

I asked him to join our practice a couple of times, but….

Each time he told me he was busy and to come back another time, and now it’s May.

I have to do something about it soon… Today, I’ll say it! I’ll ask him to come practice today!

Haruka Nanami: Alright!

I steel myself and approach Jinguji-san.

Female Student A: Aah, Jinguji-sama, you look great today, as always.

Ren Jinguji: You think so? While I’m glad to hear you say that, I think you’re the one shining the most.

Female Student A: Really? Wow, thank you!

Ren Jinguji: Oh, and your hairstyle today makes you look even more attractive. Just like a star sparkling in the galaxy. You’re truly tempting.

He winks as he says that.

Jinguji-san is always surrounded by female students and today is no exception.

Also, the way he wears his uniform so casually delights the girls.

He looks so perfect every single day—it’s like watching a scene from a movie.

Although, I wonder why I don’t feel his “heart” when I watch him.

He’s laughing so happily, and yet it feels like his mind is somewhere else.

He looks somewhat lonely to me.

Haruka Nanami: E-excuse me….

I push my way between the girls and call Jinguji-san.

Ren Jinguji: Hm? What is it, Lady?

Haruka Nanami: I’d like to practice with you today after school….

Ren Jinguji: Practice…? What should I do, little lambs?

Female Student B: Don’t go. You just promised to go to the cafe with us after school.

The girl next to Jinguji-san puffs out her cheeks and frowns.

Ren Jinguji: Oh, yes. It’s rude to turn down a prior commitment.

Haruka Nanami: Yes... I see….

I certainly think that, too... However, there hasn’t been a single day in the last month that he hasn’t had a prior commitment beyond that.

What should I do…?

Select the phrase!

Insist. (+10 Love +0 Music)

Haruka Nanami: But I can’t write the perfect song for you by myself, so just a little practice will help. I just want to get to know you.

Ren Jinguji: You want to get to know me…? That’s quite a difficult thing for a lady to say.

Everyone has a secret or two at heart. I mean, even I don't know how many of them I have.

It’s not an easy thing to know a person’s mind. That’s just the way it is.

Of course I don’t think it’s going to be easy to learn about him. It’s going to take some time.

Especially related to Jinguji-san, whose upbringing is quite different from the average people.

I don’t think my life experience is comparable to his.

I’m sure it must be very difficult to understand the thoughts and minds of people like him.

If I simply wanted to know him, I’d ask everyone about his personality.

I’ve been watching him for the past month, so I think I’ve gotten to know him a little better.

But it feels like the side of him I’ve seen is just the tip of the iceberg.

I’m sure that, deep in his heart, he has a lot that he wants to express.

On the day of the entrance ceremony, he said he wasn’t interested in music.

Maybe he meant it.

His expression at that time was completely different than the one he has when he’s being nice to the girls.

I can’t understand him just by watching him like this. I want to hear more about his true feelings.

Maybe it’s selfish of me to think so….

Ren Jinguji: Sorry, but you’re not going to find out anything interesting about me by hanging around. Can you leave it for today?

Haruka Nanami: … Alright. I understand, but please make some time for practicing later!

I’ll find a time when it’s convenient for Jinguji-san and come back to ask him!

Ren Jinguji: Geez, you’re such a… Well, you can do what you want, Lady. I’ll do it my way.

With that being said, Jinguji-san left, accompanied by the girls.

After that, I tried and struggled and somehow managed to create one song.

Haruka Nanami: U-um… Somehow I’ve managed to make one song. I’d like you to listen to it, but... when will you be free?

Ren Jinguji: Let me see. My schedule is open three months from now.

Jinguji-san drawls nonchalantly as he runs his hand through his long hair.

Haruka Nanami: T-three months….

August… That’s a long time…. I mean, we have a recording test next month.

If I don’t get him to join me for practice somehow, we might not pass next month's recording test!

If things go on like this, Jinguji-san and I won’t be able to debut.

Haruka Nanami: W-well!! I’ve booked the recording room for a week starting today!

Ren Jinguji: Well, you sure are doing your best.

He makes a slightly surprised gesture, but it’s probably just an act because he doesn’t seem very interested in what I said. But I’m not giving up today!

Haruka Nanami: So, um… I’ll keep waiting for you until you come!

I said it! It was a bit overbearing, but I said it!

But… But! I won’t give up no matter what!!!

I don’t want Jinguji-san’s voice to be concealed like this.

It’s a sin to not use his talent before he becomes a professional… I think it’s a great loss for humanity.

And as his composer, I just want to hear his voice as soon as possible, even if it’s just a little….

Then, Jinguji-san sighs and puts his hand on my shoulder….

Ren Jinguji: I’m not going. I don’t take orders from anybody… Not even my partner.

His smile is gentle, but his whispered tone is icy.

He refused, cold to the core….

I was expecting it, but it’s still harsh.

Ren Jinguji: Well, that’s how it is. See you later.

With a soft smile that was different from the previous one, Jinguji-san turns his back to me.

Haruka Nanami: I’ll keep waiting! For as many days as it takes for you to come!

When we became partners, you said to me “I have high hopes for you”!

And that performance…. You don’t really hate music... do you?

Ren Jinguji: … It’s a shame. I can't help being fickle. There’s no point in waiting for me….

Then, with his back towards me, he slightly raises his hand and walks away.

And that day, Jinguji-san didn’t come to the recording room.

Three days have passed since then. I've been in the recording room, continuously working on a song.

Only in the morning do I go back to my dormitory, take a bath, change my clothes, and then return to the school.

And then, after school, I confine myself to the recording room.

Haruka Nanami: … Sigh….

As expected, I'm sleepy. But I have to hang on a little more.

Tomo-chan told me to give up on him.

They said it’s too late to change partners, but if the song is good enough, it can be accepted into the agency regardless of who’s singing it.

However, I want to write songs for an idol. I don't want to write songs for just anybody, but rather to write songs that make that person shine.

Especially Jinguji-san….

He's the kind of person who was born to be an idol.

I don’t want to make something incomplete for him.

If I could get his cooperation, I’d make as many songs as I could to suit any situation.

If I make just one and it doesn’t work, it won't be marketable. However, if I make enough, even if they’re all bad, there’s still a chance we can use parts of them.

I’ll keep making variations that can match different situations while polishing each one of them.

Even if I make 100 and 99 are bad, it’ll be okay as long as I can make just one good song.

Ren Jinguji: … Even though I said I wouldn’t come, you’re still doing your best.

Suddenly, I hear a voice, and when I look up, I see Jinguji-san standing in front of me.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, Jinguji-san!! I knew you’d come!!

Jinguji-san called out to me… I'm so happy.

Ren Jinguji: I just happened to be passing by. Really, it's like you've been here forever. I haven’t seen you in the classroom.

But you look terrible… You're a woman, so you need to pay a little more attention to your skin.

Jinguji-san lightly touches my cheek.

Ren Jinguji: I wonder why you are so obsessed with me. It doesn't have to be me, you know.

Aren’t there people more suited to you?

Select the phrase!

Because there are limits to what you can do on your own (+20 Love +0 Music)

Ren Jinguji: Hmm. Maybe you’re feeling lonely. But I can't give one person special treatment. You'll have to wait for your turn.

Haruka Nanami: I know that. Just one time… I want to hear you sing just once….

I have a feeling that if I hear you, I’ll be able to understand. So….

Ren Jinguji: Really? Just once? I've never experienced a girl's “just once” that ended up being once.

That’s… It's been hard to get him to practice only once in a whole year.

Haruka Nanami: Well... I'd like you to come to practice many times if you can.

Ren Jinguji: See? That’s more than once.

Haruka Nanami: It's just that... I think music is something we make together.

Like you said, it's hard to understand everything about a person in only one try... So, I’d like to hear you sing a lot if I can.

Ren Jinguji: Yeah. I could do it if I feel like doing it, but… I don’t want to date a girl with such chapped lips.

Get a proper rest tonight and then come when you’re ready.

Then, when I head to the recording room after school, I find a student playing the piano.

I'm pretty sure he's... Masato Hijirikawa from A Class….

The last time I went to A Class, Tomo-chan pointed at him and told me he was a great piano player.

He's the son of the Hijirikawa family, which is the rival of Jinguji-san's family.

Still, it's a beautiful timbre. What an elegant way to play the piano.

I've played this song before, but… it sounds like a completely different song.

His hands are big… but his fingers are thin and supple… The way he presses on the keys is so light that it's as if there was nothing between him and the essence of music itself.

When the performance ends, I clap my hands instinctively.

Masato Hijirikawa: My apologies. Did you have an appointment…? I thought it was available.

Hijirikawa-sama gets up and is about to leave the room.

Haruka Nanami: No... well, it's not time yet... I came too early….

So, um... Can I listen a little more...?

I think I'm making a bold request, but I want to listen to more of the melody he was playing.

Masato Hijirikawa: I see. Well, then, I have to indulge you.

It's pretty amazing. What a deep expression. It's like the piano itself is singing.

Hijirikawa-sama’s feelings are conveyed in the sound and resonate directly from my ears to my heart.

Yes, this man loves music with all his heart. He enjoys playing it.

Haruka Nanami: What a wonderful performance.

Masato Hijirikawa: I learned to play on my own, not formally, but… I am glad you enjoyed it.

Haruka Nanami: I understand it because I also play the piano. Your performance was absolutely amazing!

I feel like I have a lot of energy after listening to it.

Masato Hijirikawa: I see… If you don't mind, I’d like to ask you to play the piano for me.

Select the phrase!

My performance… (+10 Love +10 Music)

Masato Hijirikawa: Yes, I'm a little curious. If you have the time, please play it for me.

Haruka Nanami: … Okay.

Then I begin to play my song the way I remember it.

For a while, Hijirikawa-sama closes his eyes and concentrates on listening to me playing the piano.

But….

Thump.

Suddenly, he sits beside me. Then he smiles at me and starts to play.

A piano duet….

It's not a song that Hijirikawa-sama knows. But… incredibly, we are both in sync with one another.

I can't believe it's the first time I'm doing this—the feeling of oneness is so pleasant.

And then….

Ren Jinguji: Am I interrupting something?

Haruka Nanami: Ah, Jinguji-san….

He came... but his voice is different from usual. I wonder why.

Normally it's a gentle, soft voice, but now it's somewhat sharp and a bit barbed.

Ren Jinguji: You look like you're enjoying yourself. Why don't you just pair up with this guy here?

He sneers and his cold gaze pierces through me.

I've never seen such a strong expression on his face. I’m catching a glimpse of animosity that he would never show normally.

Haruka Nanami: No, that's not….

Masato Hijirikawa: It can’t be. Is it possible that you are her partner?

Ren Jinguji: So what?

Masato Hijirikawa: What a waste! You, of all people, singing a song composed by such a talented person!

Ren Jinguji: Talent, huh? Even if her being talented is true, that’s none of your business.

Masato Hijirikawa: No, her song was a good, heartfelt song. It's such a waste that the singer's lack of skill prevents her from expressing the brilliance of that song.

Ren Jinguji: I don't need anyone to tell me I'm not skilled enough. I'm training with her today.

Technical skills are something that can be improved with practice, right? This is our precious time to do so. Get out of our way.

Masato Hijirikawa: Is that so…? Well, I'll leave, then. But I'm going to tell you this: don't let her talent remain hidden. You’re obligated now.

As her partner, you have to take responsibility. Is that clear?

Hijirikawa-sama says that in a strong tone and then turns away and leaves.

Ren Jinguji: Whew… Well... I didn't know that Hijirikawa could get so intense. What in the world did you do?

He lifts my chin and looks into my eyes.

His eyes are so cold.

Select the phrase!

I just played the piano (+20 Love +5 Music)

Ren Jinguji: Really? I don't think he would have gone that far for you just because you played the piano.

He lifts my chin even higher, making it a little hard to breathe.

And most of all, his intensity conveys more of his staggering personality. I had no idea he could have an expression like this….

Ren Jinguji: Why don't you play it for me? I'd like to hear how good you are at playing the piano.

Haruka Nanami: O-okay.

I play the same song I played for Hijirikawa-sama earlier.

Jinguji-san stares at me with cold eyes while I play the piano.

Ren Jinguji: I see. It's a great song for sure, but… not enough to set your heart alight.

I came here on a whim, but I guess I just wasted my time. I wondered what it would be like since Hijirikawa spoke so highly of it, but I guess I was expecting too much.

Haruka Nanami: No... I'll do my best! If that's not enough, I’ll try until you are satisfied. I….

Ren Jinguji: Your commitment to your music is something to admire. That's why I'm here.

I'm about to continue, but he interrupts me.

Ren Jinguji: But that's not “music”. It's like a child's game.

I don't think it's enough to just put the sounds together. If there is no “soul”, it's just a series of notes.

Your music is so monotonous; it's like black and white photography. The world is so vivid and you just can't seem to express it.

Haruka Nanami: … A game….

I'm muttering to myself, stunned. I can't express it. If he says so, then it may be true.

Haruka Nanami: What am I missing...?

Something to change monochrome to full color. I don't know what I'm missing.

Ren Jinguji: If you want, I'll let you hear my soul... Then you’ll understand for sure.

Suddenly, Jinguji-san gives a sassy smile and begins to sing.

As he sings with emotion, there is an absolute sense of presence in his voice as if it has the power to captivate everyone who listens to it.

It’s charisma.

I guess that's how one would describe it.

His movements and facial expressions are so perfect that I can't help but be drawn in.

Even if I try not to listen to it, I can't help it.

Even if I cover my ears, it forcefully sticks in my mind. It’s such a wild and alluring song.

Ren Jinguji: How was my song?

Haruka Nanami: It was amazing….

I am nowhere near as talented as him.

Ren Jinguji: I don't need practice. I hope you understand what that means.

Select the phrase!

But it’s absolutely necessary. (+20 Love +0 Music)

Haruka Nanami: I'd like you to help me a little bit. If we don't meet halfway, we won't be able to see some things.

Ren Jinguji: Meet halfway, huh? Is this what you mean?

Suddenly, he pulls my waist and stares at me so close that our cheeks are touching.

Haruka Nanami: Eh!? N-no... I didn’t mean like this….

I instinctively turn my face away. His face is so close, it's embarrassing!

Ren Jinguji: Hm. You're like a child….

Then, in a flash, he releases me.

Ren Jinguji: You look like you don't agree… Want to make a bet?

Haruka Nanami: Bet?

Ren Jinguji: Yeah. If you can make me feel like I'm in the mood for your song, then I'll sing the song you wrote. I'll even attend the graduation audition.

Haruka Nanami: … If I lose the bet….

Ren Jinguji: Heh. You'll have to wait and see what happens.

I'm gonna go now. You should probably keep working on it for a while. See you when you can make music that lights my heart on fire….

Jinguji-san... is amazing.

He was also amazing playing the sax when he introduced himself in April, but… the song just now is even more incredible....

It isn't about skill or anything like that... His presence is so overwhelming….

I wonder if there is anything I can do for a person like that....

What can I do for someone who is already shining brightly?

But I can't stay like this. I have to do something about it….

I have to write a song that makes him want to sing it, no matter what it takes.

I have made up my mind.

Mini Game

Ryuya Hyuga: I know it's sudden, but we're about to do a surprise test today! It's all right. It's not that hard.

It's a simple paper test. There are so many elementary questions; you should be able to solve them!

Anyway, this is simply to test your knowledge. Choose the correct answer from the choices.

This is when your everyday study comes into play. Whenever there's a musical term that grabs your attention, get in the habit of looking it up in a dictionary.

Well then, let the testing begin!!

S Rank

The next morning, I report my test results to Jinguji-san.

Ren Jinguji: Huh, you did well. You seem kind of spacey, but your grades are good. Nice. I like smart girls.

Aah, Jinguji-san praised me. I’m so happy!

I want to continue studying without slacking off.

Chapter End

#ren repeat #ren jinguji #utapri

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alsey · 1 year

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Author's Commentary – Prench Tale Part 1 (spoilers)

Chp.0 | Section 1

• ‌This was my third novel-grade production, and the first one written in English. No wonder these first chapters can get pretty rough around the edges, I'm always tempted to just go and edit it all into something a bit closer to my current standards.

• ‌Writing in 1st person wasn't something I had much experience with before this story, and not much more with present tense either; I've improved quite a bit since then, but here there's still a lot of characters just describing what they're doing or thinking instead of just... *doing* and *thinking*. This story was focusing on how each character was perceiving their own change, so being privy to their inner thoughts, and how they were being altered, felt like the better option. I suppose it does mesh with other Five Score stories, too.

• ‌"*Focus*, dammit..." – This was a real gamble in my eyes. I knew I'd probably lose a number of readers with lines like this one, but that way those who stayed knew what they were getting into.

• ‌Each of the three characters has its own little language idiosyncrasies, like saying 'toward' instead of 'towards', 'I suppose' instead of 'I guess', en-dash instead of semicolon, and so on. In this little introductory flash-forward, I tried to stay relatively vague on these so that it wouldn't be immediately obvious which of them was speaking.

• ‌I know it's pretty stupid, but my focus on avoiding repeating words extends to avoiding beginning subsequent paragraphs with the same letter. I've tried to be a little more lax with this rule since then.

• ‌All of Part 1 was planned, scene by scene, before I started writing. Therefore it wasn't too problematic to include in the Prologue this scene from a later chapter, but I was still a bit nervous if it would really feel natural once back in its 'native environment'.

• ‌A great, great many more ellipses yet to come...

• ‌The goal of putting this scene here was simple: reassuring readers that yes there *would* be ponies, even if the next few thousands words would be pretty human-centric; and that even though the following chapters would be very character-focused and kinda slow, there *would* be action and danger and excitement to come.

• ‌"*sigh*" – Another gamble here, with these 'stage direction'-like inclusions. Not making as much use of them as I could.

Chp.0 | Section 2, Ambre

• ‌Ah Ambre. Silly, silly Ambre. Wasn't sure how well that'd work for readers, but I liked giving a clear personality to her prose.

• ‌Trans Ambre: I was purposefully indirect in how I revealed Ambre's transness here. My hope was that readers that wouldn't catch the significance of her 'treatment' would get to know her a little bit more before the fact is laid out plainly later on.

• ‌Here we can see how much I was breaking with the conventions of present tense 1st person, having Ambre detailing her backstory in such an unnatural way. Sadly this wouldn't really improve until later in the fic... At least I was somewhat aware of the issue, hence the ‘I’m thinking to myself about how I’m thinking to myself’ bit as a way to give some kind of explanation for it.

Ch.0 | Section 3, Sarah

• ‌Fun fact: Sarah was initially called Soraya, her name changing shortly before publication (her pony name and design changed a bit too).

Ch.0 | Section 4, Laurence

• ‌Of the three characters, by far the easiest one to write for – the grumpiness helps, a lot.

• ‌Generally speaking, it's pretty wild to read this first chapter, to reacquaint myself with these initial versions of the characters, so different from what they've all become now!

Ch.1 | Section 1, Ambre

• ‌I'm currently working on an updated version of this cover art, which will become the cover for the whole of Volume 1. This first Part will have a brand-new cover instead. The cutie mark point-of-view markers will also receive an update.

• ‌I must admit that the info-dumping, though far from elegant or pleasing to my current ways of writing *Prench Tale*, has the advantage of getting the reader up to speed on the characters' state of mind early in the narrative. A necessity, considering I wanted a strong base for the human characters before the change would start – it's all a question of contrasts, so you need to have a clear idea of who these people are.

• ‌It's been noted, and I can't avoid seeing it now: there's a *lot* of French loanwords all over the place. It's possible I may have pushed for it because of the 'haha, French' aspect, but it could be just as well that I was just limited in my vocabulary (despite extensive use of a thesaurus). In this specific case, Ambre is supposed to have a more upper-class speech compared to the others, sure, but that's still stretching it a little.

• ‌The whole 'limits of transhumanism' discussion is of course a nod to the main themes of the story... And may event hint at some future developments.

• ‌Gosh that prose can be so clunky and lame and overcomplicated at times, past-me would really benefit from a good editing pass from now-me...

• ‌“It doesn't even look like a tattoo... The lines are too regular, the colors too uniform... Actually that's...” – Here, as you may've guessed, Sébastien was about to suggest it looked like a cutie mark, but he stopped himself. He's more of a closet brony at that point.

• ‌Ambre behaves pretty maturely, and seems to have a good head on her shoulders, don't you think?

• ‌There may be a pattern to Ambre deciding to stay behind to help Sarah out, and Sarah feeling despondent and unsure what to do in a difficult situation... As well as Laurence just checking out.

Ch.1 | Section 2, Laurence

• ‌"Stupid Sarah and her stupid drinks and stupid Séb and stupid Amber for making me talk so much I had to drink and stupid me for..." – A proof if there ever was one that I use 'stupid' as an insult far too often in my writing.

Ch.1 | Section 3, Ambre

• ‌"Hers are clearly less abstruse" – Seriously, who use words like 'abstruse'..? That thesaurus was a mistake! More seriously, this is a consequence of me having a very long-and-complex-and-unusual-words-skewed vocabulary in French, and simply checking translations when I want a specific word. Nowadays I try to write a bit more ‘naturally” ‘cause it’s just more believable, instead of how *I* would say it.

• ‌All this prose feels so *heavy* with unnecessary words and complicated sentences... I remember why: always afraid that I wouldn't be able to convey precisely what I wanted to convey, that the reader wouldn't get a perfectly clear picture of what I was seeing, so no choice but being extremely precise. And it makes for poor prose. I've got more trust in my readers' deductive abilities now, fortunately; it also makes for more dynamic, ‘punchy’ prose.

• Beetroot. Yeah I know it’s usually just ‘beet’ in US-English, but just saying ‘beet’ feels... lacking. Maybe I should just use ‘beets’, plural, that could work.

• “Does yours mean anything to you, Ambre? I don't know, likes or dislikes, past history, special talent..?” – More signs that Sébastien is suspecting cutie marks, even if he’s not ready to admit it.

Ch.1 | Section 4, Laurence

• “Pff... Smoke smells even worse than usual.” – Just like Ambre feeling antsy about being left alone during the previous scene, this is another sign that their brains have started to transition towards their pony selves’ – Laurence’s pony brain isn’t used to cigarette, and so the positive association between smoke and nicotine high has been lessened.

• “fioriture” – This right here is a word I commonly use in day-to-day life, in French, but that isn’t really seen as ‘common’ for most people. It feels even more bizarre in English, seriously what was I thinking? I mean, it conveys *precisely* what I wanted to convey, but it’s far from reader-friendly.

• “even if for some reason I feel slightly off-balance” – Same as earlier; her handedness is changing, which conflicts with her usual stances.

• ‘Professeur’ and ‘tireur’ are official terms for teachers and practitioners of French-style boxing.

• “But I know I've found my equilibrium, and it would be unwise to upend it.” – Portend of things to come...

• This whole boxing scene may not advance the plot much, if at all, but it’s important for laying some more groundwork for Laurence’s character. We’ve seen her grumpy in the Prologue, then asocial/introverted plus emotionally vulnerable earlier in this chapter, now we see some of her strength.

Ch.1 | Section 5, Sarah

• I’d been tempted to add an earlier scene, either during the Prologue or in this chapter, with Laurence catching a glimpse of some kind of altercation, but not intervening despite her justice sense tingling because of anxiety and such – to contrast it with this here scene of Sarah being ‘saved’ by Laurence. It didn’t really have a natural place though, and I felt her character was going to be controversial enough as it was.

• ““Your eyes are not supposed to be magenta.”, Laurence states bluntly.” – Laurence is my vehicle to convey the *precise* colors of things, she likes to be precise (and helpful) like that. Ambre could’ve identified the color too, if it’s ‘common’ enough, but for Sarah it’d only be ‘light purple’ or something like this.

• It’s funny how even for the Sarah scenes I end up talking more about the other characters than herself. Not too surprising, as she’s the character I’ve got the less affinity with, and the hardest to write for.

Ch.2 | Section 1, Ambre

• “my night was plagued by vague nightmares, full of a sense of danger, or helplessness...” – I’ve stayed purposefully vague on the content of these nightmares at first (see also previous chapter, mention of having had a rough night for the same reason). This is in part because the dream of one character will be plot-relevant, and will thus need to be directly shown, so I didn’t want to get too repetitive. Also, I often start scenes with characters waking up, which is kind of fitting for 1st person narration I guess.

• I’m honestly tempted now to depict Ambre’s troubles with a constantly growing super-mane while in the middle of serving customers their meal. Maybe that could make a fun mini-comic...

• “Kilo” – Not so sure it was a good idea, but to add a little more Frenchie flavor to the whole thing I often use the metric system, and local currency. It can be seen as a sign that what we’re reading is originally in French, but then why would the units not be translated along with the rest? Maybe it’s also kind of revenge for being always confronted to inches and miles and pounds and so on when I just wanna read fanfic. ;P

• “It also happened last evening. (recounting follows)” – Again with the direct, inellegant exposition dumb. We could maybe imagine it more as Ambre *picturing* the memories, rather than verbalizing them as written, I guess. Getting more creative in how I’d convey ‘known exposition’ may be one of the factors that contributed to increasing wordcounts.

• “I remove my glasses, looking over the object that helped me see the world as it should be seen, something that could, in a sense, be considered a part of me just as much as my natural kinky hair... I will have to relinquish them to their case, for now...” – Not so subtle parallel here between the glasses and Ambre’s whole human existence, of course.

• “*Ambre, you alright? You had us worried here!*” – Putting ‘non-standard’ speech in italics isn’t fully satisfying as a solution, but it’s better than nothing. As it is, italics have been, or will be, used to mark dialogue heard through a phone’s speakers (like here), or said in another language, especially English.

• “*We got weird eyes and hair yesterday, and freaky ears and tail during the night.*” – It was fun to scour the original story for exact times when the Mane6 had their changes occur, and take into account time zones to determine a general timeframe for our French characters’ transformation. Moreover, I considered that mainland Equestria shared the same time zone as Dubuque; I based this on the facts that Rainbow is cursed late at night, and that Dave’s birthday is similarly late at night – suggesting very similar timeframes. Consequence: the Prench crew can be awake and aware of some of the changes that occurred while the Mane6 were asleep, and vice-versa.

Ch.2 | Section 2, Sarah

• Another gamble: none of the main characters are knowledgeable in pony matters. This is in part to contrast with the original story, but also to represent how FiM just wasn’t as much of a thing in France. This is also the first element of one of the big thematic through-lines of the whole fic, which could be boiled down to ‘Know Thyself’ – they have everything to learn, about themselves, about their place in the world, and have to contend with what the world tells them, or doesn’t tell them, they are or how they should act/be.

• Sarah clearly hadn’t fully found her voice yet back then; nowadays she would be using much more ‘down to earth’ vocabulary and expressions, and I would know how to better avoid using uncommon words just to avoid repetitions.

• I actually don’t remember if the ‘being easily transfixed by the show on first exposure’ was something I’d found somewhere or if I came up with it... The idea behind it wouldn’t be that the visuals by themselves would hold some kind of mind power or anything, but instead that being exposed to a bunch of little authentic details in short succession – names, concepts, events, some aspects of look/animation of places and creatures – would evoke some inscrutable feeling akin to nostalgia or yearning or simple subconscious recognition, *especially* once the ‘memory gates’ have been reopened following the cutie marks reappearing. This could be used to explain why many of the Five Score protagonists are fans of MLP – they went through a similar, maybe less powerful variant of this effect, that got them into following the show and/or fan productions, or helped them keep on being fans after the show’s end. Of course, this is a mostly ‘first exposure’ thing, the effect lessens more and more with exposure as the brain can relies on fresher, more easily-explainable memories of pony stuff, and Equestrians-in-human-form don’t necessarily have the same ‘threshold’ for the effect to kick-in in the first place, depending on the nature of the stimuli and how much they correlate with what little buried memories manage to percolate closer to the surface. Here specifically, Ambre and Laurence got drawn in early by aspects of Canterlot and Royal Guards, while for Sarah it happened a little later once we got to the more agrarian Ponyville.

• “I ball my fists, ready to jump to my feet” – Sarah feels a bit aggressive, huh? She may be playing up the nonchalance most of the time, trying to avoid thinking too deeply about the situation, but clearly the uncertainty and upended normalcy still affect her. Maybe there’s also some new hormones starting to brew inside... Well, that’s one way to see it; if I were to edit all this again, I’d tone it down, make it more natural and understandable; I don’t like the implication that she’s somehow more aggressive or violent than the others, *especially* as it’s a frequent stereotype, when it’s mostly supposed to be impulsiveness.

• “neither of our symbols are present in the show itself” – Gambling once again, with the main characters being OCs and thus inherently less relatable/engaging from the get-go, as they don’t come with a preexisting rapport to the reader. Multiple reasons for this: first off, I enjoyed the high degree of freedom this afforded me in crafting the looks and background of the pony characters; second, it played again with the ‘Know Thyself’ theme, this time with both characters *and* readers – they don’t know who they’re turning into, and we don’t know what to expect, adding another kind of mystery dynamic to the plot; and third, even if, as one reviewer put it, most of the cool ponies were already taken, I just wouldn’t have felt comfortable making heavy use of a canon character, with all the expectations that’d come with them. Hence, OCs. Though as we’ll see later on, I did find ways to go around some of these issues...

Ch.3 | Section 1, Ambre

• First of the ‘Content Warning’ mentions. I was unsure if it were really needed, if maybe it spoiled a bit too much what was gonna happen, but I didn’t want to take any chances – we’re depicting pretty heavy stuff, with just a Teen rating. Plus, the vague warning can also help build up suspense.

• Interesting how brash and impulsive Sarah suddenly becomes all ‘huh, neat’ seeing this gruesome physical change happening on her in real time, no? This kind of response to overwhelming events/situations will have its consequences...

• The switch from Sarah’s to Ambre’s perspective here is very purposeful; like mentioned just above, the way Sarah reacts to this type of event would make for a very ‘succinct’ description, if any description at all, while Ambre stays a lot more lucid and can thus tell us what’s happening with some details. In fact, for this same reason we won’t have much of Sarah’s internal perspective on her transformation at all – denial’s setting in thick. As for Laurence’s perspective, well...

• “She stutters incoherently, eyes wide, staring in turn at Sarah's hooves, my own hooves-to-be, and her slippers-clad feet” – Laurence noticed what was implied earlier – there’s a specific sequence to how the changes play out, first Sarah, then Ambre, and Laurence last – and seeing her fate galloping towards her, she panics. Better to *choose* to harm herself and rob the change of a target, than to see herself be harmed without any way to stop it, in her eyes. We’ll come back often to this issue of control with her.

• Sarah’s denial, Laurence’s control, what of Ambre then? Well she has both enough introspection, like Laurence, and enough flexibility, like Sarah, to navigate this situation without falling down into one extreme or another. It’s also why she’s our main viewpoint character, wordcount- and scenes-wise: aware enough to describe what’s happening, functional enough to not break down from it.

• “Sarah looks dazed, and unsure, leaning against a wall, fiddling idly with her pants' waistband.”/“(...), concurs Sarah as she keeps twiddling with her pants” – For those familiar with the sequence of Five Score changes, you may have a guess what could make her feel slightly uncomfortable in her pants right now... The implication gets even more overt a bit later on.

• “Poor guy looks drained, and I doubt it's only because of his injury” – Sébastien is awesome, but he's only human; felt important to still acknowledge that for all the strength of his friendship, he's still affected by what's happening. Ambre can see it too, and thus tries to give him some respite.

• “I force the shoe to accept my changed foot with a brief ripping sound and fasten the laces; it'll do!” – A metaphor for how Ambre's trying to deal with things; trying to make things work, even if it's not easy and can't ever 'fit in' again.

• Laurence opening up about her feelings over her self-harm attempt, how she must be stronger, not yield so easily, the stress of the situation being no excuse, being put against herself... It goes beyond a need for control, even though she hasn't learned the reason herself yet.

• “a mad scientist and/or an exorcist” – I seriously spent a long time deciding if I'd dare use that slash or not.

• For the scene of Ambre going to the bathroom, I tried to stay pretty vague, focus on her emotive response rather than on the physicality of it all, but it's still one of the two likely reasons I was asked to add the 'Sex' tag to this story before publishing.

Ch.3 | Section 2, Laurence

• “The only upside of this insidious transformation is that it has sped up quite substantially the healing process” – Don’t remember if it’s something I came up with or not either. My rationale was that, basically, the curse reverting is coded to recreate the pony’s body in *exact* detail (which is the only way I can explain that it would give back ponies their exact same manestyle, age, and so on), and so as long as it’s still running its course, limited damage to a zone that is still in the process of being changed can be ‘healed’ as the transformation progresses. Not ‘healing’ *per se* then, and more the curse seeing the wound as more stuff to replace as to recreate the pony’s body. All this to say, that it gave me a convenient excuse so that Laurence’s injury wouldn’t matter much health-wise.

• “at a rate of a little less than two centimeters every half-hour” – Yup, I did the math; it’s not a random number.

• “Séb's warm voice pulls me back to the here and now” – In a lot of TF stories, including some Five Score ones, humans are to be avoided, or they’re antagonists. Human friends and family are often barely relevant, if at all mentioned. Here I really wanted to see what would happen if we kept a human friend of the protagonists right in the thick of it. I’m sure Laurence’s grateful at any rate.

• Speaking of, I’ve heard from some reviews that Laurence’s despondence, constant grumbling and general passiveness in these chapters could get old pretty fast. Honestly I can see it; she’s passive and self-focused in chapters that are already action-free and focused on the characters’ inner conflicts, with a big dose of domestic trivialities. However, her behavior wouldn’t change much, if at all, if I were to go on my editing spree, first because of character growth reasons (we need to see her at her lowest), and second because these scenes of her struggle were the primordial seed from which this whole story grew, it all started with this vision of a Five Score transformee rejecting their fate. Maybe I just wasn’t a good enough writer back then to properly frame and convey my ideas. Maybe, like some of my characters, I should learn how to let go of the stuff that just doesn’t work.

• “I didn't even recall bringing down my copy of *Old Man's War*” – For those unfamiliar with this great space military SF series by John Scalzi, it deals with, among other things, questions of an individual’s identity in a setting where it’s possible to switch bodies, a kind of technological reincarnation with imperfect or latent memories, and what makes one human. For example, in the first book the main character, the titular ‘old man’ finding himself into a new, youthful body, is confronted by a clone of his deceased wife, devoid of any of her memories.

• I tried to not get too preachy with Ambre’s trans monologue, or have it take too much space – hence being heard from Laurence’s critical perspective. It’s only really relevant in the context of Ambre and Laurence bonding over shared pain, of deepening our understanding of Ambre’s character and where she’s coming from, and of laying down some more thematic parallels and distinctions between trans and TF dynamics, especially in the Five Score context, which was the initial seed of Ambre’s character.

• This other book series mentioned by Ambre exists too, it's the *Tamír Triad* by Lynn Flewelling (which was split into six books instead and given a new title for the French edition, from what I've seen). It deals with prophecies, dark magic, ghosts, a usurper to the throne, and like she said, with a protagonist unknowingly living in a masculine body not her own, until her growth and the demands of the plot have her assume her feminine identity and her true destiny. Sounded fitting for helping crack the egg of a young trans person, among other things.

Ch.3 | Section 3, Sarah

• I actually mapped episode runtimes on Sarah’s day activities to see how much of the show she could consume during this time, and it was a nice coincidence that this scene could occur as she was watching ‘*Sweet and Elite*’. Beyond the little tidbit of opinion on Canterlot elites, it was a fun opportunity to have this *very* subtle cameo of Jet Set and Upper Crust, considering their both have not-so-distant relationships with some of the original characters in this story’s continuity. On the other hoof, we missed Sarah’s live reaction to the two-part premiere of season 2...

• “It's not because I've suddenly grown a pecker that I can't control myself!” – The *other* thing I suppose could’ve led to a mandatory ‘Sex’ tag. And beyond that, poor Sarah clearly needs a bit more time to get used to her new hormonal cocktail.

• Right at the end we finally get a glimpse of Sarah’s true emotional state, now that she can’t focus on something else, like binge-watching the show.

Ch.4 | Section 1, Ambre

• “Gosh Sarah snores like a train engine” – Sleeping while your nasal cavity is still being actively remodeled will do that to you, especially with the schnozzle she’s going to end up with.

• Pony height: I did some research to determine the general height of ponies in the Five Score universe, and fortunately it wasn’t too hard to figure out – a good rule of thumb is that a medium-sized pony’s eye level is aligned with or slightly lower than the waistline of a medium-sized human, which makes a fully-rearing pony about as tall as a human. This is shorter than my personal headcanon, but it fits well for more easily describing proportion changes from TF, and for most ponies to still be able to wear some human clothes. In Ambre’s specific case, her “my new eye level reaches much higher than my [human] groin” comes from the fact she started pretty tall at 5′11″, while her pony form is ‘only’ 3′5″ at from the base of her hooves to the top of her head.

• Pony proportions: I was still fiddling a bit with those when I wrote this part, but the generalities are still the same. I go for pretty horse-like ponies, in that their anatomy is as biologically believable as I could make it while maintaining that pony ‘feel’ we know and love.

• “Pff, and I thought waiting for the Dejean's coffeemaker was tedious!? – ”The whole coffee-making scene drags on a little, but purposefully so – this is meant as calling back to the Prologue and Ambre fixing herself some coffee. Back then it only took a couple minutes, but now that she’s a pony, it requires a lot more time and efforts; she’ll need to get used to her new situation, and find how she can go back to being fully functional, if it’s at all possible.

• “slowly stirring the dark liquid with my reddish spoon” – A very subtle hint that for all they’ll still have to learn and re-learn, our ponies still have some instincts to help – foreshadowing the end of this chapter. Because you see, Laurence doesn’t have colored spoons. But you know what’s red..?

• Ambre really starting to mull over her situation; it’s precisely why I wanted a trans character to go through a Five Score transformation, though she doesn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle yet...

Ch.4 | Section 2, Sarah

• Tried something here with the dream narration, being past tense instead of present tense like the usual narration. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were a bit jarring, but I feel it’s thematically appropriate. And we’re finally getting a glimpse at the bad dreams and nightmares our characters have been mentioning for a couple chapters now.

• “Well, as they say, *quand faut y aller, faut y aller!*” – I really don’t get why I thought putting a French phrase here was a good idea. It’s not like ‘when you gotta go, you gotta go!’ was on vacation and not available. Definitely something I’d edit out, it clashes with the implicit convention that non-italicized English counts as French.

• Pony scents: a little bit of headcanon, probably not that original, with each pony having a personal scent, but beyond this simple fact, other ponies perceive this scent through some form of maybe-physiological, maybe-magical synesthesia. Here, Sarah likens Ambre’s scent to firecrackers, though like she says, more to the *idea* of firecrackers than any specific scent. And the thing is, another pony would probably describe Ambre’s scent differently, because it evokes slightly different things to them.

• “from my lower position I catch sight of my poor snapped bracelet on the floor... Forgot to take it off in the end, it must've broke during the night.” – Another case of using items and such as metaphors for the character’s circumstances, past, present and/or future. Right then, the message is that staying in denial for too long (here ‘forgetting’ the situation, when one knew the potential consequences) leads to one’s human existence (represented here by this fruit of one’s hobby, and a gift to oneself to celebrate a personal milestone) being damaged.

• In a previous chapter I mentioned how different the main trio felt so early in the story, but now with this first scene of them together, all ponied up, their group dynamic is really taking shape.

• “Is it really *that* important if I feel good right now?” – It was very purposeful to have Sarah declaring that she didn’t really care about her potential gender issues. Is it denial? Is it plain truth? Who knows, in her eyes it’s not important right now so *we* won’t know for sure. The goal was to include this perspective that I’m usually pretty frustrated with in TG stories, that despite the characters changing in major ways they don’t seem to question their situation or think too much about the implications for their personal identity – just going with the flow. I suspect that it’s mainly a question of ‘don’t overcomplicate things when we could get to the good stuff quicker’, but when it’s almost *always* how it goes, yeah it gets frustrating. Thus Sarah, representing some of these aspects so that I can discuss them.

Ch.4 | Section 3, Laurence

• “Sainfoin is at my side, ever faithful, enduring my clumsy attempts at petting him with my deformed right hand” – One of the boons of first person narration is that we can play with how each character sees the world; for Laurence, she perceives her body more as ‘what it should be’ than ‘what it currently is’, hence using ‘hands’ and other human-specific vocabulary to describe her body. It may be a bit confusing for the reader at times, but it is the intended effect – highlighting the profound disconnect between Laurence’s mind and body.

• This idea that for most ponies the change isn’t that much of a big deal is meant to explain why we don’t have many characters like Laurence in Five Score (she’s not the only one though; thinking notably to this soon-to-be-pony who chose suicide rather than complete the transformation, briefly described somewhere in the Dust-verse). Basically, the fact that the brain changes along with the body ensures that some subconscious aspects come back, including the general feeling of ‘yes this is my body, nothing unusual’.

• “That's the pragmatic thing to do” – One of Laurence’s catchphrases. The meaning she puts behind ‘pragmatic’ may not be the exact same as the dictionary definition though...

• One of the goals of this ‘let’s go make lunch’ scene was actually to have a good excuse for literally putting our three characters side-to-side to compare them. I wanted to play around a bit with body types with my characters, considering it’s something that’s often forgotten about in both the show and fan works.

• “an apple that she... somehow... holds with a hoof.” – Precisely because Sarah's not asking herself questions, she can manage better at using her hooves, letting subconscious muscle memory do the job.

• “Just try not to change it into a carriage, or make it explode.” – *wink wink*

Ch.5 | Section 1, Laurence

• “Oh just coming out of an episode with a character I really don't like, no big deal.” – As may be guessed, said episode was ‘Keep Calm and Flutter On’.

• Our ponies spend lots of time in the kitchen, but it’s to better track their progress in managing to reclaim being functional after the change, through this pretty relatable activity. Besides, it allows me to give a little more weight to my little headcanon for how ponies built a civilization on par with humans, despite lacking hands: what one human with a pair of hands can do, two or more earth ponies may need to work together to accomplish; hence a greater emphasis on community and friendship.

• The meat thing: I’ve always been curious about this idea that ponies would be strict vegetarians, to the point of getting sick from meat, that can be found in the fandom. It’s not *directly* suggested by canon, and it doesn’t make much sense from a physiological point of view... so I wanted to play a bit with it! I consider here it’s a deeply-ingrained cultural taboo, born from the centuries of ponies working closely with very smart animals but within a highly-curated ecosystem rather than someplace truly ‘wild’ like the Everfree. But more than that, we know that at least bovines are quite sentient in Equestria, so eating beef in particular would feel revolting from a purely ethical point of view (I do have a whole headcanon on the administrative and legislative aspects of ‘smart’ and ‘sentient’ animals in Equestrian society, but that’s neither here nor there). As Laurence proves, ponies are still perfectly able to eat meat products.

• “Is this body making me dumber or what!?” – One of the first real signs of Laurence being more of a scatterbrain after the change. More generally, while still neurodivergent, she’s now so in slightly different ways that she’s only beginning to notice.

• “shut up, it's magic” – The French (‘ta gueule, c'est magique’, or TGCM) equivalent of ‘a wizard did it’.

Ch.5 | Section 2, Sarah

• ““Well then Fido,” Sébastien quips as he unties me, “knock yourself out!”” – ... I can *not* believe I didn't have a ‘hey, wasn't talking literally!’ after that... I *may* have decided to highlight more Sébastien’s concern than his wits? Still, such a missed opportunity.

• “At the end of the fifth and last season of MLP... Discord takes over Equestria.” – This was written before the updated version of Five Score changed this to instead have the taking-over at the end of season 9, of course. At first I was thinking about updating in kind, but then, the change to the original didn't add much to the universe beyond some small contradictions, and went against pretty much all the universe that had been built around its original version. So I decided to keep to the 5-season thing. Two interesting consequences: I can now play with canon characters that the readers know about but the characters don't. And I like the potential surprise and foreboding feeling this could give readers who know the show isn't *supposed* to end so early.

Ch.5 | Section 3, Ambre

• Getting precise with how magic works can easily backfire. There's lots of non-compatible headcanons on the subject. But considering where this fic will go, it was necessary to give details.

• “it feels wrong to leave to their own devices somepony who's hurting” – As the pony names get more common, we're also seeing somepony/everypony crop up – but only in thoughts, to reflect that there's no equivalent of the words in the French dub of FiM (‘everypony’ is usually replaced by ‘my little ponies’), and so they don't have a French word to use while speaking either.

Ch.5 | Section 4, Chad

• “Brian is in the kitchen” – Apparently this is, like, a stock phrase widely used during English classes in French schools, or at least it definitely has reached meme status as such, and is often used to comment on how French people are pretty bad at English in general (because it’s the only sentence they know and understand, you see).

• And here we get the main reason for this chapter being titled ‘Fractious Impulses’ – beyond the tensions between the three that threaten to pull them apart, it's Chad's impulsiveness that manages to fracture the group and get them all in trouble. Other reason for the title: being the fifth chapter, and published on April 2nd, which is Five Score Day, hence starting with an ‘F’ for ‘Five (Score)’.

Ch.6 | Section 1, Ambre

• “a freaking magical laser beam” – Thought it was interesting that many unicorns could obtain pretty advanced spells that way, just like Shining did in the original story, and that it could be used as a way to evaluate the reality of the dreams.

• “Compared to my first day here, getting myself a glass is laughably easy – thanks magic!” – Those cheating unicorns! More seriously, it’s on this note that we end the succession of ‘kitchen moments’ for our characters, from their initial routine as humans to the trouble they had to adapt as ponies, and now the new normal, just as functional, only not in the same ways.

• “Darn it, he *did*!!” – Through Volume 1 I tried to never italicize the punctuation following italicized words, but it doesn’t look especially pleasing visually; I’ve decided to change that come Volume 2.

• “Laurence stomps a forehoof, cutting us off” – And here we are, the pivotal moment when Laurence shakes off the passivity; she’s got something to focus on, and she shall not dither.

• “Oh, and the password is Je_Veux_Être_Ton_Oisillon.” – A pretty obscure reference, even more so translated in French, but I know some got it.

Ch.6 | Section 2, Chad

• And here we’re really beginning to see how we end up with chapter with high wordcounts and number of sections: switching character perspectives often for advancing the overall plot.

Ch.6 | Section 3, Laurence

• When I was working on Part 1’s structure, at first this Charles dude was just a random jerk for Laurence to ‘save’ Sarah from, but then his role extended quite a bit once I realized that he’d also fit naturally in this position in the plot.

Ch.6 | Section 4, Chad

• And so we have our first song, yet another gamble! Gosh that was an ordeal... ‘Cause you see, I’m just plain bad at rhyming and I never had to write lyrics before. And I was rushing through this mammoth of a chapter to get it published on time. Not perfectly happy with it, and it’s a bit on the short side, but it does the job. Initially I was supposed to have a lot more time to work on it thanks to my buffer of two to three chapters, but after I’d been forced to publish everything I had, I only had the one week to get everything ready – or as much as I could, at any rate. I’d dreamed of actually producing the music (which is partly written), but alas.

• Oh, and we meet Crispy! Probably not as much of a surprise as she could’ve been, her existence having been introduced in Chad’s dreams. Still, another meaning for the fourth chapter’s title, ‘Four on the Floor’, beyond ‘four hooves on the floor’: four *ponies* on the floor.

• Sweetchard – or Chard. Like with Sarah/Soraya, the original name was ‘Bilberry’ (and his mane was blue instead of green).

Ch.6 | Section 5, Ambre

• Our ponies spying on the Brigade meeting was a slightly clumsy way to have the antagonists’ motivations made a bit more clear to both characters and reader, something that’s sometimes a bit problematic when you keep to first person narration and don’t have the time for long, complex detective work for the information to come up more naturally. Rushing things also makes them sound maybe a bit cartoonishly evil, but they’re not the worst offenders in this chapter...

• “Now, you all probably heard about what happened in Grenoble on Monday...” – These events are relevant for at least one other pony character in the story, though they probably won’t be discussed much in the future (though now that I think about it, I see how I could organically bring some light on these events...).

Ch.6 | Section 6, Sweetchard

• Ah, old man Laterrade and his religious spiel... So cheesy, and not much time to make his ‘arguments’ breathe a little more. It would’ve been interesting to have earlier Crispy scenes, to see how he descended from a strict but well-meaning father figure to a broken shell of a man, holding on desperately to whatever absolute truth he thought he could fall back on, with his only son lost to such devilry...

• Crispy putting herself between Chard and her father is also significant, though we won’t know why quite yet.

Ch.6 | Section 7, Ambre

• Eeyup, that’s a car chase scene alright. Slow beginnings, but we’re rushing towards the conclusion with a good serving of action. I’ve tried to improve on that point later on.

Ch.6 | Section 8, Sweetchard

• Laurence’s ‘running up a wall while beating wings’ was inspired by one of the hypotheses that had been proposed for how land-bound dinosaurs progressively developed arboreal habits and then flight.

• Laurence’s choice can be disputed for sure. Unfortunately, her decision wasn’t motivated by tactical matters only.

Ch.6 | Section 9, Laurence

• And here we’re back again, now with proper context...

• This whole scene was written in one go, outside editing, something that’s unusual for me (it’s usually more bits and pieces that are then tied together). My first real fight scene, and thus once again a gamble. I hope it worked as intended.

Ch.6 | Section 10, Ambre

• A somber note to end on, for sure... Especially as it was a full week before next chapter back then.

Ch.7 | Section 1, Laurence

• “I push through the oneiric veil, tearing the dreamscape apart” – Must have been some nightmare...

• The transfusion issue is another clue that the transformation wasn’t random, that the bodies came with a history of their own.

Ch.7 | Section 2, Sweetchard

• This scene, outside of the ‘starting to put the pieces together’, was the beginning of my attempts to improve rhythm on a per-chapter basis – adding a little tense scene or some action to each one, so it’s not just all talking.

• Interesting how these two seem to know each other so well, no?

Ch.7 | Section 3, Laurence

• I wasn’t sure if I should include this scene here or in the next Part, but it fit well enough here, and was important for Laurence’s character.

Ch.7 | Section 4, Ambre

• And at last our conclusion. Trying to put a little thematic bow on the previous events, so that Part 1 would feel like a slightly more cohesive whole, while still serving as the first step into the greater story. Very far from perfect, and perhaps not the best way to catch new readers’ interest, but it is what it is. Onward!

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