#'how can i keep you all as accurate as possible in this wildly different setting with completely different life experiences'

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Please tell me more about your human welcome home au 👀

!! gladly!!

i don't remember what i said in the first - and like... only lmao - post about it so if i restate some things! fuckign oopsie! (a lot of this is just Barnaby &/or Wally asbdjasj im sorry) also this got! so fucking long!

~ (im gonna talk about their middle/highschool years a lot so keep in mind the time frame is late 90s / early 2000s. they graduate high in either 2006/2007. so. yk. obvious warning for homophobia, transphobia, etc)

fun lil thing no.1)

so Barnaby & Wally briefly meet for the first time in the summer before 7th grade. the town Barnaby grows up & goes to school in isn't tiny, but it's not huge either. - i don't have a very good frame of reference for how many students are typically in a school, bc in both my middle/high there was at least nearly 2k of us. - so we'll just say it's smaller than that - a respectable, normal size, however many students that is. but Barnaby's school rarely, if ever, got any new kids.

so Wally randomly appeared on the edge of the Beagle farm one day, staring directly at Barnaby from across the fields. before Barnaby could go say hi, Wally vanished - but! on the first day of 7th grade, they wound up sharing a class. ofc within the day Wally was known as not only the new kid, but a weird kid at that. for the first week he sat next to a kid who had zeroed in on that and was an ass about it. Barnaby - already having an established rep as class clown & also widely well-liked by his peers - would try to stand up for Wally (from across the room) whenever that kid was being a dick to Walls in front of the class

by the end of that first week, seating arrangements were shifted, and Barnaby was seated next to Wally for the first semester instead. ofc the moment Barnaby sat down, he tried to strike up conversation and cracked a killer joke. and Wally, as we all know, doesn't laugh. he doesn't even blink! it rattles Barnaby to his core - not everyone laughs at his jokes, but there's always some kind of reaction!

class begins before Barnaby can be like "hey that. that was a joke. you're supposed to laugh". the whole hour all he can think about is the strange new kid next to him Who Didn't React To Barnaby's Joke. when the bell rings, Barnaby lingers as Wally (very slowly) packs up to go to his next class and walks him there. on the way he explains the joke, and Wally does the whole "oh. ha ha." thing. this all makes Barnaby very late to his next class (he's usually very punctual and never late - he doesn't want to disappoint his mama!) but for once he does not care.

Barnaby has been struck with this soul-deep need to get a genuine reaction out of Wally. he needs to make that guy actually laugh. it's all he can think about. he seeks Wally out for lunch, tries to find him after school (can't), looks for him in the halls. and to be clear! this is all very platonic! well, ok, these two kinda muddle the line BUT they have no romantic interest in each other. Barnaby just... really wants to be the new kid's friend. he wants to make him laugh. it's a friendship crush! platonic yearning! an inescapable desire to please & be accepted! he wants Wally's approval so so badly!

basically, Barnaby says "you're the weirdest person i've ever met (affectionate, intrigued, entranced)" and Wally replies "thank you (proud)"

fun lil thing no.2)

in my mind, Barnaby was a small kid. he was one of those kids who seemed like they were either gonna stay short, or just barely reach average height. he got his main growth spurt when he was like.... 16. it was very sudden. he lived the classic trope of "teen gets way taller over the summer and startles everyone on the first day of school". im talkin he goes from around 5'7 to 6'3. shoots right up like bamboo! and he's still not full height yet! mf is gonna cap out at 6'6!

on the flip side, Howdy was always just. so tall. he was that kid who towered over his peers from the start! ofc he got teased relentlessly for it (along with the transatlantic accent he started talking w/ at a young age and refuses to stop - among other eccentricities), but yk. he already got constant comments from his huge family about it, so he grew a thick skin pretty early on.

Poppy, on the other hand - the last of the three giants - had it worse than both of them! she wasn't outright taller than Howdy, and didn't have a sudden growth spurt like Barnaby, but steadily grew over the years until she was the tallest teen in town. this hit her hard bc not only did it draw unwanted attention to her & make her a target, but it made her dysphoria way worse (Poppy doesn't realize she's trans until highschool, and then doesnt medically transition until her early 20s)

but! once she started getting super tall, Howdy essentially glued himself to her a la "we tall guys gotta stick together!" a classic 'extrovert adopts introvert' thing. Poppy had no say in the matter.

fun lil thing no.3)

everyone's family sucks - except for Barnaby's, Howdy's, and Eddie's. well, mostly Eddie's. in my head they meant well but just... didn't really see the harm they were doing to him. he never spoke up, and they never saw him deeper than surface level.

but Frank's family? horrible. eugh. he was the school's "out gay kid" - not of his own choice! his peers picked up on it because it was very obvious. then the teachers heard, and let his parents know because of course they did, etc etc. Frank's home life was already shitty, and then getting outed (without any real proof or confirmation) made it a hundred times worse. he was a pretty depressed teen (emo Frank lets go) with mild anger issues & a habit for picking fights. but anyway on his eighteenth birthday he packed up his essentials into a backpack, escaped out the back, and never returned.

and Julie's siblings were alright, but their parents and grandparents were all very ~traditional~. it wasn't as rough as Frank's - it was more of a neglectful, passive-aggressive "you're all disappointments' household. ex: Jonesy was known as the local pothead & dealer, and his parents essentially pretend he's not part of the family despite him living in their basement. Bea had a bad (untrue) reputation, Franny was the goth weirdo who people blamed for their problems, etc. and then Julie was always different from "normal girls", and so her parents chalked her up as a mistake as well. but hey! at least the sibs were in it together! and the parents didn't care if Frank stayed over!

Poppy's family was great up until her parents caught her trying on a skirt Sally had made for her. it was a horrible, terrible downhill slide from there. they forced her to join the basketball team, made her keep her door open at all times, etc. for a while she couldn't even see her friends, though eventually they started sneaking in through her window & passing her notes in class. messaging in a 'secret' chatroom yk how it is. Poppy never directly stood up to her parents (very understandable & valid) but she rebelled in small ways. lying about having an after-school thing so that she could be with her friends, convincing her parents to let her go to a study group when in reality she'd be having a girls' night with Sally & Julie & Julie's sisters @ the Beagle farm.

Sally's family was similar to Julie's in that they were more lukewarm towards her than outright abusive. they thought she was too loud, too flamboyant, too expensive, too obvious, pretty much too everything. they wanted her to be normal - Sally wanted to stand on the roof and wax (loud) poetic about damsels. she wasn't outright bullied for being gay like Frank was, but it was certainly a common rumor that she was a lesbian. as a result, most of the girls at school wanted nothing to do with her, and the guys loved to provide commentary on the subject. her parents tried their best to ignore that truth and acted like she was totally straight. sure. still, Sally always refused to compromise on who she was, and treated it all like a mild annoyance. totally didn't hurt her at all. yep. (sarcasm)

there isn't anything known about Wally's family. not even Barnaby knows about them. the group tossed theories around (amongst themselves) over the years - was he an orphan? foster kid? was his family / home life so horrific that he doesn't want anyone to know? all they know is that he became an emancipated minor as young as legally possible and started living in Home, his (admittedly very spacious & high quality) RV. and they didn't even know about that until their junior year except for Frank

on the other side of the coin!

Ms. Beagle was the friend group's favorite adult growing up. the Beagle Farm was a common refuge & hangout spot for them, and Ms. Beagle let all of Barnaby's strange & delightful little friends know that there's always a guest room open for them, should they ever need it. and as a respected member of the community (and provider for the best chicken eggs in town), anyone who tried to speak up against the kids was Immediately shut the fuck down. Ms. Beagle took no shit. if people were talking ill about that "group of depraved teenage fuckups" and Ms. Beagle turned the corner, all conversation would cease until she was well out of earshot. she likes to say that she has 6 kids, all of whom she loves dearly and is very proud of <3

Howdy's family is too damn big to care. not in a neglectful way, just in a "oh, you're friends with... who was it again? Franz? invite him over to dinner someti- STOP PUNCHING YOUR BROTHER-" there's too much chaos, too many things to keep track of to care if Howdy's friends are gay, or trans, or absolutely fucking bizarre. they'll blend right in! Howdy could bring them over for dinner without telling his family and none of them would blink twice! Howdy mentioned that his friends have bad home lives Once and his parents immediately insisted that he bring them over for next week's thanksgiving so that they don't have to deal with that during what should be a holiday. thus began the All Six Of Us + Ms. Beagle + Franny/Bea/Jonesy Attend The Pillar Family Thanksgiving. its incredibly chaotic every time. there's so many fucking people. they're too busy fighting for survival (bread rolls) to bother with manners or awkwardness. every time they leave feeling like they fought a war. none of the friend group has missed a single year.

fun thing no.idontremember!

Wally & Barnaby have had three fights. each are catastrophic and threatened to tear the friend group apart. because those two are closer than anyone - they are each others person. they would both rather chug rat poison than willingly hurt each other. and while Barnaby - a pretty easygoing guy - can get riled up, Wally... really can't. he's never angry. even things that Should make him angry only make him confused or sad. he's too kind, too earnest, a bit of a pushover. he'll just take it with a smile.

so when Wally stands his ground, they all know shit is going tf down. code red, everyone brace. and if he stands his ground against Barnaby? pack a fucking go-bag and ditch town until the storm blows over.

the first time was when Barnaby found out that Wally lives in a damn RV. Wally got weirdly defensive about it, Barnaby was upset that Wally never even told him but somehow Frank knew (he had a bad night & couldn't go home, Julie was unavailable, and Wally found him and took him to the RV for the night) & that Wally is living alone in an RV at all, etc etc - it was a huge fight. & it just kept getting worse. when Barnaby tried to get Wally to move to the farm - that was the first time he's ever heard Wally snap at anyone, let alone him. and since the friend group is fully established at this point, and they're all hopelessly entangled in each others' lives, it affects all of them. sides have to be chosen - there is no neutral party on this. Wally ended up vanishing for a week without a word, and his RV vanished from where it had been parked thus far. the group was in shambles. when Wally turned back up, he actively avoided them all. it took Barnaby tracking down the rv and not leaving until Wally talked to him to have a conversation and fix things. but hey! the disaster actually helped them get even closer!

the second fight was when Barnaby had to go back to the Beagle Farm for their second year of community (Ms. Beagle had a minor accident and needed his help running the farm). Wally wanted to drop out too & go with him, and it turned into a big deal of Barnaby trying to get him to stay while Wally gets unusually pushy & upset about it. the fight wasn't nearly as bad as the RV one, and was more just sad/distressing, but it was still a fight. they parted on less than stellar terms, which they both felt horrible about. Wally has to go through the last year of community alone - he hasn't been alone in many years at this point, and since they met he's never been without Barnaby.

the third fight comes many years later, and this one is the worst. the friend group has all graduated university(those that attended), they're living in the same town, Barnaby & Wally (technically) share a house, Eddie is part of the group now. once again, its over everyone's favorite RV, Home. Home is very old at this point - Wally has had it for around 15 years, and he didn't get it new, and it's been through a lot. Wally is still half living in it, even though it's starting to fall apart. Barnaby brings up the notion that maybe it's time to send the old thing off to a dump, or find a way to put it in storage. they can't keep up the upkeep. it's time to say goodbye to it. Wally flips his fucking lid - or his version of it, anyway. because, uh. no. absolutely fucking not. it's already a very touchy subject, and emotions rise fast. Wally initially shuts down the conversation immediately. over the next week or so, few weeks maybe, tension between Barnaby & Wally simmers. the entire friend group is holding their breath. Barnaby wants the RV gone, as sad as he is about it. Wally won't allow it. of course they reach a breaking point - Barnaby pulls the "i own the property its parked on" card, Wally threatens to leave. of course that scares Barnaby, but that fear mixes with the anger and he fully yells at Wally for the first time. and then Wally shoves him. or tries to - it does nothing physically, but emotionally? it immediately drains all anger from the situation. Wally has never purposefully raised a hand against anyone ever, for any reason. and yet he tried to shove Barnaby. Wally immediately turns tail and runs - he locks himself in the RV, and Barnaby goes to Howdy's.

at Howdy's, Wally calls Barnaby. at first Barnaby jumps at the chance to apologize and try to work something out, but then he recognizes the background noise - Wally is driving Home somewhere. that RV is absolutely not fucking safe to drive anymore. the conversation immediately derails and goes from 0 to 100 within a second. Howdy is off to the side nervously sipping at his beer as Barnaby argues w/ Wally. the phone call abruptly cuts off, Barnaby says "the little bastard hung up on me" and starts Ranting. he says things he doesn't mean, obviously, and Howdy is trying to get him to chill tf out. he's just too angry/scared/hurt/worried yk?

but don't worry Barnaby! Wally didn't hang up on you! yeah so a while later (a little over an hour i think), Barnaby gets a call! it's from the town hospital! yeah so he's Wally's emergency contact, and apparently Wally "hanging up on him" was actually Wally getting into a horrendous accident. it wasn't his fault! there was a drunk driver! but it's... bad. the drunk driver had died in the crash, and since it was night and no one was around, help was a long time coming for Wally. its a miracle that someone found him & called an ambulance in time! so Barnaby realizes that the whole time he was talking shit & being angry, his best friend was slowly dying in a ditch somewhere, alone and in pain. and that's a whole thing!

time for some fun "facts"!

the first time Eddie went over to Frank's place, he immediately fainted when Frank turned the lights on & Eddie saw that he was surrounded by pet tanks filled with Very Large Bugs. then he fainted again when Frank removed the tarantula from its tank to clean said tank.

Wally & Barnaby's cat is named Welcome! she's usually small & pitch black with a permanently bristled tail! she's actually Barnaby's - he found her in a park as a kitten, and her unnerving stare reminded him of Wally so he took her home. Wally would like a dog! Barnaby would not! the cat is their only pet and will remain their only pet, no compromise. Wally retaliated by gluing googly eyes & dog ears onto a rock he found, then painting it. its name is Barnaby. Barnaby has beef w/ it a la Elmo & Rocco when Wally isn't looking

one time, during a group trip to the annual Pillar Family Thanksgiving, the gang stopped at a cabin-themed diner. Sally gasped at stopped Barnaby at the door "We must leave - you can't eat here". when everyone asked why, she pointed at a decorative sign on the wall: Don't Feed The Bears. it instantly became a smash hit inside joke that sometimes backfires (like that one time they go camping and Barnaby acts like he can't open the bear-proof dumpsters & locks & coolers). Howdy once got a "dont feed the bears" sign to put up in the store's diner section as a joke, but as soon as Barnaby saw it he left and refused to come back until Howdy took it down. he'd stand outside the store window and gaze at Howdy from afar w/ the biggest, saddest puppy eyes. it was incredibly effective

speaking of Howdy's store! they all built it together! Howdy managed to get his hands on an abandoned shell of an old building, and they all refurbished/renovated it! they all had the collective skills to get it done. Wally helped draw up blueprints & directed the color-scheme / painting portion, Sally and Barnaby used their carpentry skills, etc.

when Eddie "reconnects" with everyone, he feels like he's going insane. 'cause he keeps running into people who are familiar enough that it bothers him, but he just can't place where they're from (most if not all of them look very different from the last time he saw them in highschool). it drives him nuts! and then he meets Wally and Wally's like "oh! Eddie! it's you!" and Eddie's all "uh... how did you know myna- OH MY GOD IT'S YOU". he has a small crisis because he's over that time in his life, he's in a much better place, he's grown as a person. then he realizes that it's not just Wally but the entire fucking friend group he agonized over wanting to befriend for years and years. the group that (unintentionally) made him feel completely alone and like he was living a lie. and he keeps. running. into them. so Eddie, who just moved to this town, starts looking at mail carrier opportunities elsewhere bc he is Not doing this again - only for Julie to show up and drag him to a friend group function. because they all got together and went "oh, you caught up w/ Eddie too?? so we're in agreement? great! he's ours now! Julie, go get him". and then they accidentally break Eddie's wrist in a zealous game of soccer-baseball-corntoss & from then on won't leave him alone <3

Wally keeps his hair consistently dyed a rich royal blue - even his eyebrows! he continuously touches it up so his roots are never showing! Barnaby keeps his hair dyed blue in solidarity, but to a lesser extent - his roots show, and he doesn't dye his eyebrows or his sideburns/beard

on that vein, Wally has a very extensive hair-care routine he does every morning. he straightens his natural curls out, manipulates his hair into that absurd swirl, and hairsprays it to death. & gels down everything else. shit's Airtight. then at night he has an equally elaborate routine of washing the hairspray/gel out, treating his hair with high quality shampoos/conditioner/oils, and blowdrying it with impeccable technique to keep it Healthy

continuing on that vein - one time Barnaby was makin' breakfast when he heard a crash from upstairs. he sprinted to go see if Wally was alright, but Wally had locked the bathroom door and refused to open up. after Barnaby convinced him to, the door opened to reveal a very miserable Wally still in his towel. his hair was green. "the bottle said dye-safe', he said. the bottle lied. he wore hats for a while.

ok im gonna stop here! this is an absurd amount! i got carried away!

[indigochromatic]

I sent this ask to someone else but I'd like to ask more systems - may I ask what your opinion is on subjective reality within systems? Systems that don't have consistency in the headspace, or a consistent timeline, consistent memories...that sort of thing. I'm struggling a bit with that now and it's really freaking me out :( so I'd love to hear your take, if you'd be willing

Hey there! Yeah for sure, we'll take a crack at this. First, though: Content warning for discussions of reality, subjective reality, unreality, etc. If too much that stuff makes your brain unhappy, maybe skim or skip this one.

I'm sorry to hear you're struggling a bit rn, Anon. It's not fun to feel like you don't have "solid ground to stand on", and having to deal with not having a consensus about your autobiographical narrative can be really frustrating and scary.

Lemme try to come at this from a couple angles. First off, I'll say something about how we think of big-picture philosophy, which is that everyone has a subjective reality to some extent. There's a reason it's called "consensus reality" not "objective reality", and that's because no two people on earth are having the exact same experience. Perception is biased, memories slowly alter every time they're recalled, interpretation differs wildly depending on context. The human brain isn't an accurate recording device, it's a pile of synapses telling stories to itself in the dark.

So what do we do with that? Philosophically, that's a big question, and I'm not gonna pretend I have all that figured out. Learn to yourselves stories that give your life meaning and purpose. Practically speaking, though? That'll depend on what you're struggling with specifically, and what you're hoping to change.

For example, let's take memory consistency. The two of us have generally pretty consistent memories (e.g. we agree on what events happened rather than having conflicting memories about it), but we also have a shit memory overall--we've described it like we're living in a sliding window of 2-8 days, and everything else is kind of a mess since around 2019-2020. We also have ADHD, so that doesn't help either. What do we do? Honestly, just super basic stuff like "keep a calendar notebook that we write stuff down in to keep track of it, and don't worry if it's not perfect or fully complete", "set alarm reminders for non-routine things we don't want to miss, like medical appointments or phone calls with friends", and "check in with each other when we can, to ask if we're missing anything (and just to say hey)". We also know our memory is affected by our overall dissociation levels, so just generally trying to take care of ourselves and slowly improve our life situation is pretty likely to help, too.

On headspace consistency, though--I'm actually a little confused by what you're asking. Are you worried because your headspace isn't static and changes a lot? Anon, with love, that shit is so common, I wouldn't be worried about it in the slightest. Our headspace is a whole mess, for instance--not only is it different based on whether you're in "my mind" vs "L's mind", even the small handful of semi-consistent places and/or 'themes' change around all the time, not just day-to-day like the weather but also evolving over time, especially as we learn more and process more stuff and experience more things. Hell, my exomemories don't even all have a consistent continuity. And even the "semi-consistent" aspects of our headspace basically exists in a sort of...Schrodinger's Headspace superposition, most of the time? For example, there's a whole, like, Hades/The Spirit Realm in there--except when it doesn't exist, or when it's wrapped into some other part of headspace, or retroactively never existed, or was all just symbolic anyways, or is personified in one of my facets instead, or...well, you get the idea. If you're looking to create a bit more solidity in your headspace, it's usually possible to develop more 'concrete' headspace locations by practicing visualization over time--this can be guided meditation stuff, writing about it, collecting a moodboard of images, constructing a model of it in minecraft or another "virtual space-builder" game/program/whatever, etc. Don't be discouraged if it doesn't happen overnight, this stuff can take a bit of practice to solidify.

Timeline consistency: yeah. That one can be especially hard to avoid when you have between-system-member amnesia in general, and/or multiple periods over your life where there were different main fronters. We're not experts on this front, but a lot of it, as far as we can tell, tends to come down to just...trusting each other, as a system. You've all got pieces of the puzzle, and some folks' pieces are written in map coordinates while other folks have cryptic, symbolic riddles--they're all important pieces, even when they conflict. And sometimes you have to kinda let go of trying to ever Perfectly Reconstruct Exactly What Happened, and focus more on what you want your life to look like now and moving forward. Not sure if that system member's exomemories are 'purely symbolic/emotional' or have some basis in physical events? Ask them how they want to deal with it, and what support they want. Sometimes the narrative is more important than the events, because the events themselves are gone. They're over. What we carry with us--everyone, systems and singlets--is the narrative we've told ourselves about the events, and that's the part that grows and changes with us throughout our lives.

Anyways, that's my take on it. Hopefully this gets at a bit of what you were asking about, Anon? Feel free to toss us followup questions if you want, thanks for the opportunity to talk about all this a little. -S

[shadow-mans-things]

Depending on if I go back to polish this up, this might be the rough or first/final draft lol. I just woke up and felt like writing about Bodaway from Bi-Han's point of view, Kuai Liang's will be next as I want to flesh out their dynamics. Bi-Han might not be completely accurate but I did do my best to apply what @bihansthot provided me in her response to my ask. Hopefully, as I keep writing his character will be more accurate and my stories could properly illustrate each character's dynamic with one another.

TW: mentions of running away, mentions of threatened murder, self destructive behavior, slight ed, implied abuse (If I have missed any don't hesitate to let me know! I want my blog to be a safe space for all!)

Something was wrong. Bodaway wasn't poking his head in to see what he was doing as often anymore. Yes, Bi-Han used to shoo him away quite a few times in the past, but that didn't mean he wanted the kid to stop. Not only that, but Bi-Han noticed that Bodaway wouldn't hang around Kuai Liang as often as he used to. On Monday Bodaway missed all his meals, Bodaway never did that. Wednesday Bodaway refused to stop training until his legs gave out, once again something Bodaway wouldn't do. Come Thursday Bi-Han was done with whatever phase he thought this was, and easily picked his youngest brother up.

"Hey! Put me down!" Bodaway cried out as he furiously squirmed in his arms. For Bi-Han this was like a small child trying to throw a fit.

"No, you're being self-destructive." Bi-Han was blunt but didn't specify any particular thing. His tone came off as if he were always pissed, but in this instance, he was worried.

"Why?" Bi-Han muttered. What could possibly be the reason Bodaway was doing this? Did someone say something to him? Make him feel unworthy? What was the reason?

"Nothing. I'm fine." Bodaway had shut down on him. A trait Bi-Han himself was guilty of when he was younger.

Not knowing how to properly communicate with someone that was hurting in a specific way, Bi-Han remained silent. Bi-Han didn't need to say anything, for Bodaway his eyes said it all. Bi-Han didn't realize he had a specific destination in mind until they were outside his room. He rarely ever let Kuai Liang or Bodaway in there unless his younger brothers really needed the comfort. He mentally convinced himself this was more for his baby brother tonight than it was for him. Like Bi-Han, Bodaway was also under constant pressure to do great things, though the reasoning for their treatment was wildly different.

"Why did you bring me here?" Bodaway asked him. "I'm not five anymore, I can sleep on my own."

"Shut up. Something is clearly wrong, and if you won't talk then I won't let you leave my sights." Bi-Han grumbled before setting Bodaway on the bed.

He first tended to the bleeding wounds Bodaway had, he was gentle when tending to the rotting looking flesh on Bodaway's arms having learned the hard way that they were sensitive. He then moved his focus onto the gash that still had a small stream of blood running down it. He simply cleaned and bandaged that one up. His next focus was on Bodaway's obvious lack of food and water. He didn't have much, but he made his brother eat some of the jerky he'd kept stashed away and drink the water he kept next to his bed. Whatever Bodaway was going through, Bi-Han wanted to be sure he knew he had his brothers on his side. Soon enough Bodaway was asleep, fatigue having caught up to him. It'd been so long since he'd cradled Bodaway in his arms, comforting him after a nightmare or after a bully had gotten to him. He paid some mind to how Bodaway shivered in his arms, reminding Bi-Han that the youngest wasn't a cryomancer like his older brothers. He simply cocooned Bodaway in more blankets.

Bi-Han spent the next few days glued to Bodaway's side. He didn't trust his brother to take care of himself at the moment. Once Kuai Liang found out, he too clung to Bodaway. The brothers always made sure Bodaway ate something, even if it was small. They made sure to drag Bodaway away from his training to rest and not beat a poor dummy into a pile of splinters. Kuai was more vocal about his concern for Bodaway, oftentimes interrogating Bodaway to little success. Still he wasn't going to let down until he knew why his little brother was being so self destructive.

Bi-Han figured he should've been more involved in Bodaway's life than he usually was. He never meant to make Bodaway feel like he was cast to the side. He'd gotten distracted with his duties and helping Kuai Liang that he never even realized he was pushing Bodaway away until it was too late. Desperate eyes scanned the snow and hair covered room, hoping to find even the faintest silhouette of his brother. There was nothing. He didn't know when he dropped to his knees or when he began crying. Nor did he remember picking up the yard length hair and clutching it tightly. He never intended for Bodaway to feel unwanted if that was why he ran. He'd known about the grandmaster's contempt for Bodaway, the elder having been very vocal about it. He knew that many people feared Bodaway after the kid had been seen commanding zombies when he was much younger. People always warned Bi-Han to keep Bodaway on a tight leash for fear that Bodaway could bring about the apocalypse if he wanted to. Bi-Han knew Bodaway would never do that, he knew that Bodaway rarely ever used his necromancy for that exact reason. Still, he couldn't help but feel that he'd missed something crucial to Bodaway's disappearance.

While Bi-Han did his best to shield his brothers from the grandmaster, he was still just one person. Bi-Han still felt like he'd failed to properly protect Bodaway at the end of the day. The hair covering his room was his evidence of that. He gently stroked at the strand in his hand, recalling the times Bodaway would beg for Bi-Han to braid it. Saying that only Bi-Han knew how to do it the way he liked it. Bi-Han never admitted it, but he treasured those moments. He knew how particular Bodaway was about his hair, so to have him trust Bi-Han with it did stroke his ego a little. How was he going to tell Kuai Liang? His little brother would surely find out once he woke up, but Bi-Han didn't want him to find out the way he did. But, how does one go about telling another family member that their brother cut his hair and ran away?

Another thought snapped him out of his trance. If the grandmaster found out about this, Bodaway would be dead. The man would without a doubt send someone to collect his head. That couldn't happen, that wouldn't happen. Bi-Han was going to find him and bring him home before word could ever reach the grandmaster's ear. That might be delusional thinking on his end, but Bi-Han was going to be damned if he let anyone hurt his brothers. That morning he would drag Kuai Liang out of bed and the two would set off to find their baby brother.

[scientia-rex]

Listen. There are two extremely different types of doctors in my world, which is the United States of America. Some of us get paid based on a salary--I agreed to see 11 patients per half-day (so a total of 22 slots in my schedule per day), and I get paid based on that, and I'm fine with it. I have a 7% no-show rate.

Some docs get paid depending on how much they do. Every surgeon, to the best of my knowledge, is in this category. Productivity units, for some; for others, they're private docs, not part of a bigger clinic system, and they just have to see 21-22 patients a day to keep the lights on.

"What do you mean, they have to?" Money in the medical system has almost nothing to do with how much you pay. If you don't have insurance, odds are you aren't seeing a doctor, and if you are, it's the walk-in clinic when you think you're dying. If you have insurance, you can see a doctor, but the math is deliberately, horrifyingly complicated. You probably have a deductible--an amount you have to pay before insurance kicks in. Your insurance probably costs in the neighborhood of 600-700 bucks a month, so you're sitting there going, what the fuck do you mean I've already paid you two grand this year, it's MARCH, and you STILL won't pay any of my medical bills until I pay 6,500 bucks total out of pocket this calendar year??? (People in other countries with saner medical systems, look away.)

Meanwhile, the amount that doctors can actually charge for our services is extremely hard to change. We cannot raise our rates spontaneously if we depend primarily on insurance for reimbursement. Why? Medicare is the single biggest insurance company in the US. Medicare sets the reimbursement rates it is willing to give for various services. Other insurance companies base their reimbursement rates off Medicare. Every medical system--however small the clinic, even if it's a single doctor--has to negotiate a contract with each fucking insurance company. And because they're so massive, and so wildly profitable, insurance companies have the upper hand. They get to say yes, we'll work with you, but only if you agree to accept this rate for services rendered.

And the services are categorized according to Medicare standards. So I can bill for a 99214 if I meet certain criteria of medical complexity, and if I don't, I can bill for a 99213. Billing for procedures is separate. I have had to learn billing codes, very much against my will, because if I don't bill correctly, my clinic, which is too fucking cheap to pay for an adequate billing staff (yes, you need a whole-ass department for this, because insurance will always start by trying to deny a claim), will get hosed and possibly have to lay people off, potentially including me.

So I'm sitting here making sure I document the complexity of care that justifies a 99214, which usually means there have to be at least two diagnosis codes and at least one order (whether that's a lab test or a prescription or imaging), and I don't even know whether that cost is going to go to the patient or the insurance company. And if I under-bill, I might be helping out the patient, but I might be screwing my clinic. And if I over-bill, that's fraud and I can go to jail.

And I'm not even getting paid directly based on this stuff! I'm just trying to accurately code medical complexity, in part because my clinic gets federal funding based on how complicated our patients are, because I work at an FQHC, a federally qualified healthcare center, which means we can afford to see Medicaid patients, because most places that see Medicaid patients take a loss to do it. Medicaid doesn't reimburse what it costs to keep the lights on. Every provider, every group, has to pay for physical costs of operating--building, power, supplies, staff. So there is a baseline amount doctors have to make in order to keep the clinic open. And most clinics are upsettingly close to the margin at all times.

But FQHCs get reimbursed at higher rates for Medicaid patients specifically for being the kind of clinic Medicaid patients are most likely to benefit from, for having things like mental health services and patient navigators. So we're that. And I'm glad. I love my patients who are living in poverty. Give me that patient population over rich, smug bastards any day. Rich people are godawful. I say this with confidence, having treated many of them.

Anyway!!! The reason wait times at doctor's offices suck is that the whole system around doctors getting paid is fucked to such an extend that if you really want to understand it, I highly recommend Maggie Mahar's book, Money-Driven Medicine, which was written in 2006 but beautifully captures what a fucking clusterfuck modern American medicine is in terms of who gets paid and how.

Your doctor may be evil, and it may be in part for money, but it's rarely personal greed. It's a completely broken system. And the wait times? They're there because if providers see fewer than 22 patients a day, most of those as 15-minute visits, which is not enough time with the vast majority of patients, the clinic starts to be in danger of going broke. I see suicidal patients on a daily basis. I see trans patients. I see patients with active psychosis. I see patients whose family members just died. I see patients with cancer. In 15-minute slots. It's fucking bananas, and however much you hate it, please rest assured that your doctor fucking hates it too. We would do things differently if we could afford to. If we could keep the clinic running and pay off our hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical education debt and pay the staff a living wage. We would do it without making you suffer like this, without making us suffer like this.

[dalloga]

Hi Euna! So I'm an international army who's recently got into Kpop, about a year or so ago. I've recently seen an uptick in people claiming that some of the official subtitles for BTS content are not subbed correctly and we don't really get the true character of the guys because we don't fully understand how they express themselves.

I've also seen this conversation come up in regards to the new Korean show on Netflix called squid games where a lot of multilingual people are calling out how the English subtitles take so much out of the actual show and sometimes they even misrepresent what characters are saying. So I just wanna know if you see this as a problem with BTS at large and with jikook specifically. Does the way jikook speak to each other really leave little room for interpretation and basically heavily implies there's something there? If yes, is that why k-jikookers are always so confident?

Thanks for your time!

Hello anon!

While the official subs occasionally makes mistakes, for the most part I feel like you can count on it to accurately reflect what the members are saying. (And with Squid Game, I think the problem was with the CC subtitles? I heard the official English one was still pretty faithful to the Korean).

I don't always turn on subs so it's hard for me to comment in-depth on its particular successes or shortcomings, but I'd say that there's sometimes this misconception in intl. communities that official subs are wildly misleading. Which isn't true. It's just a matter of different priorities, I think. Translations embedded in video or generated in a live setting often have to prioritize conciseness and clarity due to technical/situational restraints. As a result, yes, it's possible that some nuance gets lost in the process. Other times, some concepts are just untranslatable.

Luckily we have a fandom that's big enough to have lots of dedicated fan translators who can point out mistakes and cover the gaps, also showing in the process all the different ways the same sentiment can be translated.

Of course, there's no such thing as a perfect translation, especially since language is so intricately tied to culture. Some things can be clarified with a few extra footnotes; other things are more difficult to fully articulate. But either way, there's a reason why KM is so popular with Koreans, and a lot of that comes from how their bond and their dynamic sets them uniquely apart. Much of that is able to be perceived and understood no matter what culture you're from — some of it is more limited to those with native context.

As a general rule of thumb, whenever you consume content from different cultures, I think it's good to keep in mind that despite the best efforts of translators, there will always be gaps in understanding. Listening to native speakers in these moments and remembering that you're a guest here would be the best thing we can do in my opinion.

[lilyofthesword-writes]

The Intern (Loki Oneshot)

Summary: Loki takes an interest in the latest of a long line of Stark’s interns.

Pairing: Loki x Reader (Can be read as platonic, if preferred)

Word Count: 2,809

Disclaimers/Warnings: None. Just a bit of fluff.

A/N: This wound up turning into something entirely different from the original concept. Just kinda went with what felt right. Also trying desperately to remember working with an Arduino board to make this at least semi-accurate.

Masterlist

Loki traipsed aimlessly through the Tower, his overly-friendly insomnia having kept him up past four in the morning again. Nothing seemed to help him sleep and he constantly grew bored laying around in his room waiting for exhaustion to overtake him. Wandering about seemed as good as anything. Sometimes he would come across something interesting. It seems now would be that time.

He rounded the corner and found himself gazing through the wall-length windows of Tony Stark’s lab. The armor-less Iron Man was passed out in a chair, head haphazardly lolling on a table. Usually, he was still working and would be until at least seven a.m. before Pepper would literally drag him to bed.

Movement at the other end of the room caught his eye. There you were, pulling a blanket out of the cupboard. You crossed the lab and placed the well-used cloth over Stark’s shoulders before returning to your work. Sliding your safety glasses on, you put all your focus into soldering some wires to a board.

What in the nine realms were you doing here at this hour? The sun hadn’t even reached the horizon yet. None of his previous interns ever started their days before nine. Albeit, they had barely lasted a week while you broke a record at just over a month, but the point still stood. Why were you here?

“Are you just going to stand there like a creeper, Loki, or are you going to come in and hang out?” you called out, not even bothering to tear your eyes away from the wiring.

Well, this excursion could prove to be interesting. Loki slithered through the doorway to stand opposite of you at your table.

“So what are you doing up this early?” you murmured. If it weren’t for you glancing up at him, someone may have thought it was more of a question for yourself.

Loki huffed a laugh. “I could ask you the same question.”

That elicited a quirky smile from you. “Woke up way before my alarm and couldn’t fall back asleep. Figured I’d start my day early.” You gestured toward Stark with the soldering iron. “This one over here is pretty lenient on the hours.”

“I would hope so,” Loki chuckled, “considering his own schedule.”

“A schedule that consists of planned energy drink breaks. Definitely one of the more interesting employers out there.”

“I suppose you could say that,” he mumbled, leaning heavily on his forearms propped on the table.

You set down the soldering iron in its stand and shut if off. “So I answered your question. How about you?”

“I simply could not sleep,” he nonchalantly replied.

“Hmm...” you hummed. “Lemme guess. A member of Insomniacs Anonymous?”

His chuckle reverberated through the room. This was probably one of the reasons Stark kept you around. You certainly had a particular snarky confident air about you.

Yet the corners of your mouth suddenly hung low and your brow scrunched together. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“Pardon?” He was confused at your change in demeanor.

“It’s not as simple as you couldn’t sleep. There’s more to it.”

Loki’s lips parted in astonishment. Here you were in your first true encounter with him and you read him like an open book. What had you been told?

“I won’t make you say anything.” You held your hands up in a placating manner. “You probably don’t want to, and that’s okay. However.” You grabbed the notepad next to you and scribbled something on it, ripping off the paper and sliding it towards him. “If you’re ever bored and I’m not here, you can text me. I’ll probably answer.”

He reluctantly took the note that had your number written on it. “I cannot say I am very adept with these cellular devices.”

“Pretty sure you’re clever enough to figure it out,” you grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “But seriously, no pressure. The offer is always out there.”

“Wha?!” Stark snorted himself awake, his eyes shooting around wildly. “Rudolf? What’re you doing here?” He eyed Loki suspiciously. “You’re not going to scare away my intern, are you? That’s my job.”

You laughed, keeping Loki from spitting a venomous retort. “Good luck with that. You’ll have to try a lot harder if that’s what you’re going for, Stark.”

“Obviously. You haven’t run off yet. I’m surprised.” He took the blanket that was wrapped around him and began folding it. “Pleasantly surprised.”

“Sure, sure!” You waved him off.

Stark looked at his watch and swiped a hand through his purposely messy bed head. “It’s that time already. I better get breakfast before Pepper finds me... Alright!” He clapped. “Both of you, let’s go! Time for grub!”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up across his forehead. Was Stark actually having him join the two of you for breakfast?

“Yes, you too, Reindeer Games! One, I don’t want you in the lab alone.” That earned him Loki’s scowl. “Two, you seem to be behaving, so why not have you eat with us.”

You nudged Stark’s arm while shooting Loki an inconspicuous wink. “Awww, look at you! Already getting into Dad Mode and little Morgan hasn’t even entered the world yet.”

He nudged you back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Now come on. I’m starving!”

You continued to tease him as you followed him out of the lab with Loki close behind.

Loki lay in bed a few nights later, lost in thought. He could not get you out of his head. You had spoken with him like you would anyone else, deflected and stood up for him despite hardly knowing him. In the few years since he had been thrown to Midgard as punishment, Thor was the only one to show him a sliver of kindness, but even he held some hesitation. You did not. Your earlier interaction was genuine. He wasn’t sure what to make of it all.

In his perpetual deliberation, he had avoided the lab since that morning. Not that he didn’t like you. It was the uncertainty that kept him away, but that wouldn’t last much longer.

His phone settled lax in his hand, your name illuminating the screen. You had been right about him being able to learn how to text. Now it was a matter of completing the action. Tossing the phone to his other hand, he glared at the bright screen. His message had already been written. All he had to do was select “Send”. The clock at the top of the screen read two a.m. Surely, you would be asleep... But what if you weren’t?

With a huff, he pinched his eyes shut and hit the button, the swooshing sound seemingly echoing off the walls. The following silence was deafening. Luckily for him, the reply swoosh fell inline shortly after.

You: Hey, Loki. Can’t sleep?

Loki: How did you know who this was without me saying?

You: I can’t think of anyone else who would text me at this hour. ;)

Loki: I apologize if I woke you.

You: Nah. Already up. Trouble staying asleep. So what’re you up to?

Loki: Texting you.

You: Other than that, Mischief

Loki: Thinking.

You: Yeah? About what?

Loki: Possibly meandering through the Tower, again.

You: Liar ;)

Loki: Pardon?

You: You were obviously thinking about me.

Loki: What makes you say that?

You: You had to be. At least in the context that it would be better to text me than exploring.

Loki: Fair enough. Now, how do you know I am not planning to choose both?

You: You got me there.

—

Loki met you at the lab later that morning. The familiar sight of Stark was passed out, snuggling his face to a countertop, greeted you both.

Shaking your head, you huffed a laugh as you passed through the doorway. “Can’t really reprimand him when my sleep schedule is just as bad.”

Loki’s lips curled into a light smirk but didn’t speak a word lest Stark awaken and force him to leave. Despite your two hour texting session, he had been looking forward to joining you here.

“Thanks for meeting me here, by the way,” you called out to him as still stood just at the edge of the lab. “A little company while working is kind of nice. Gets too quiet when Stark finally shuts down.”

Taking a seat across from you, Loki quirks an eyebrow. “Would that not be considered a blessing?”

You stifled a chuckle as you flipped on the soldering iron and pulled out what roughly looked like a vambrace. The board you had been working on previously was molded to the shape. “If that happened by the end of my workday, yes. This early in the morning? Not so much. It’s boring if not a little eerie.”

“I see... So I am only here for your entertainment,” he feigned offense.

You gasped dramatically, “Me? Never!”

Laughing with you, Loki made himself a bit more comfortable as he watched you work. At the moment, you were adding tiny capacitors and securing them into place.

“If I may, what are you trying to accomplish?”

“Well,” you started, glancing up at him. “It’s a new piece of armor. Other than that, I technically shouldn’t say much else.”

“Right... Classified information?”

There was a twinkle of mischief in your eyes as you looked at him again. “It is a secret, but nothing quite as official as that.”

Loki leaned across the tabletop, supporting his chin in his hand. “So there is no harm in you revealing your project,” he tested.

“Harm? No. However, there will be disappointment on my end if you figure it out.”

“I accept this challenge,” he grinned playfully.

You smirked back,“As you wish, Mischief. I won’t make this easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Darling.”

The next several weeks chaotically blurred together. At first, you allowed Loki to observe your project as you worked on it. Once the vambrace began to take on a more unique form, you were hiding it in the mornings, opting to take on a different assignment when he was in the room. The design was strikingly Asgardian, leading him to believe the new armor was for Thor. He just needed to figure out what it did. He spoke with his brother on multiple occasions but was unable to glean anything from him. Either he had no clue or suddenly learned to lie well enough to fool Loki, the latter highly doubtful.

Apart from politely harassing you via text, Loki took to locating your hiding spots, something that proved difficult when the lab was almost always occupied by you, Stark or Banner at varying times. Stark was helping you keep this little secret, a sparkle in his eyes whenever he shooed Loki from the room when he was caught investigating. Even Banner was in on it, albeit reluctantly.

Then there was that Doctor Strange who was showing up every few days, joining you all in the lab much to Loki’s chagrin. By that point, Stark had banned him from the entire floor. The project must have been coming to a close if you all were trying to cover it up so desperately. But why Strange? Was he imbuing the vambrace with magic to protect Thor better? (Not that he really needed it.) His curiosity was certainly getting the better of him, going so far as to shape-shift as one of you three when Strange wasn’t around to get into the room. Somehow, Friday always knew and alerted the lab’s occupants who would send him back to the elevator.

It was early one morning as he was perusing the contents of the shared kitchen that you initiated contact with him. He was surprised since he had been the one to text you first lately to see if you would spill your secret.

You: Hey. Can you stop by the lab?

Loki: Oh? I thought I was banned.

You: Lifted as of a few minutes ago. So?

Loki: I suppose I might be able to grace you with my presence.

You: So kind of you, my King ;)

His heart skipped a beat at you calling him “your King”. You only used it in a teasing fashion when he was acting high and mighty. Even then, it still flustered him.

Loki made his way to the elevator, deeming it a bit devious to take the long way to the lab. You had made him wait all this time. It was your turn.

The doors reopened on the lab floor, revealing that his ploy to annoy had worked. You were leaned against the wall next to the elevator, waiting for his arrival.

“Finally! Come on!”

You audaciously grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the room with an impatient grin. Stopping him near your normal workstation, you demanded he close his eyes.

“Excuse me?” he responded incredulously, ripping his arm from your grasp.

“Please, Loki...” Your pleading eyes grew larger as you pouted at him.

Stark groaned, “Just do it, Reindeer Games, or I’ll cover them for you.”

Loki’s lips reared into a snarl as he glared at the billionaire before relenting and clenching his eyelids shut. Norns, how he hated those nicknames.

“Okay!” Excitement laced your voice. “Would you hold up your dominant hand?”

“Making more demands, Darling?”

“I did ask nicely this time.”

“That you did,” he chuckled a complied, holding out a hand.

“Perfect!”

He felt a metallic weight placed on his forearm before it was clasped together with a comfortable tightness.

“Okay. You can look now!”

The sight of the vambrace on his arm left Loki’s mouth agape. The main black of the piece was lined with gold Asgardian knot designs with runes placed in a handful of the empty spaces. Near his wrist, an artificial emerald was embedded in the armor. If he had to be completely honest, the aesthetics could rival much of the armor back home.

“Well, Kid. It looks like you rendered him speechless.” Stark nudged your arm.

Loki’s gaze shot up to the two of you. Stark was leaning against the workstation while you had hoisted yourself to sit atop it, nothing but grins on either of your faces.

“What is this-”

You cut him off, “It’s for you. We noticed after some of your missions where you had to use your seiðr more than usual, you’d end up exhausted before getting back to the Quinjet. The new armor should help with that. It’s supposed to amplify your magic without draining you.”

Stark shoved you lightheartedly, again. “The kid noticed. Told ‘em if they could come up with something that could work, I’d give whatever resources needed for the project.”

“So what do you think? I mean we still need to undergo more testing and calibrations before you can use it in the field, but-”

“You made this?” Loki locked barely tearing eyes with you. “For me?”

“Yup! Kid designed the whole thing!” Stark kept you from answering. “Minus the bits we had to bring Strange in for the wizard-y things, this was a solo run. Did a pretty good job. Not sure I could have done much better.”

“Stark...” you grumbled, clearly not used to the praise.

“This is...” Loki tore his gaze away back to the vambrace. “I don’t... I don’t know what to say.” His voice was just loud enough for you to hear.

“A ‘thank you’ would be a good start. Now maybe this little intern will get more sleep,” Stark blundered before checking his watch. “Well, it’s about time for my morning scolding. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me!”

With that he whisked himself out of the room and to the elevator, leaving you and Loki in a terribly awkward silence.

“Hey...” you started. “If you don’t like it, we can scrap the design. It’s not a big deal-”

“Thank you.” His pupils were filled with a sincere gratefulness that few had ever seen before. “This is... This is simply splendid.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that?”

Loki spun on his heel to fully face you, his hands coming to rest on the countertop on either side of you. “I mean it, Darling. This... No one has ever done something like this for me before. I would be honored to be your test subject,” he ended with a smirk.

“Well, if that’s the case,” you grinned right back at him, “I’d say let’s get some breakfast first. There will be plenty of time to optimize the vambrace later.”

Pulling back enough to release you from his cage of arms, he gestured for you to lead the way. “After you,” he breathed.

Hopping down from the table, you held out a hand for him. Hesitantly, Loki took it while running a thumb over your knuckles as you pulled him to the elevator with you.

[wordsnstuff]

Guide To Writing Historical Fiction

PLEASE REBLOG | Tumblr suppresses posts with links :/

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

–

Finding Credible Sources

This can be a major struggle, especially for those who don’t possess a lot of skill in writing research papers or writing informative works. I could write an entire article on this subject alone, but instead I’ve decided to link a few helpful articles that can help you identify credible sources. A good rule of thumb is to pay attention to how recent the information is, who wrote it (what are their credentials), and who/which organization published the information. If you’re unsure of whether one or all of these things indicates a lack of credibility, cross-reference against other material, and always keep the list of sources you’ve used handy for future reference.

Familiarity vs. Accuracy

The ultimate goal of writing historical fiction is creating an immersive experience for the reader, which takes place during a period in time they didn’t live through, or in a location they didn’t experience during that time. It’s about immersion, and it’s important that you don’t sacrifice that experience in an effort to make the material as factual as possible. You are an artist, and you have the room to pick and choose where accuracy is necessary, and where familiarity can supplement it.

Write For Your Reader

When choosing which information to include in your writing, you need to keep the reader at the forefront of your mind. What do they need to know? What can be omitted in the interest of individual interpretation? Where does specificity take away from the excitement of a moment in the story. There should never be a scene that is completely focused on unpacking the research you’ve done on the time period. You do the research and learn the information to aide in your ability to tell an immersive story, and you edit include information sporadicly with the intention of keeping the worldly aspects fresh in their mind. Each piece of information is a reminder to the reader’s imagination of where and when they are. It’s not about teaching them anything. That’s why it’s fiction.

Authenticity vs. Accessibility

A lot of historical fiction works become problematic when the author prioritizes factual accuracy over accessibility to the everyday reader. The majority of readers come for the taste of another time or another culture, or both. If they wanted to read a history paper, they would. If they wanted to read a 120 page report on 16th century Japan, they would. Keep this in mind. Accessibility is a deal breaker for most readers. If they can’t see the story through the information, they’ll put your story down, because they want what’s been advertised.

Differentiating Between Classes

Class is one of those things that, when imagining what it’s like to research for historical fiction, you forget to consider. In most cases, the experience of lower classes or the middle class were not documented or recorded in the past because it wasn’t considered worth remembering. Be mindful of who your characters are, because if you’re writing about a time period that predates modern methods of recording life and events, you may struggle to find information on anyone other than royalty and the general upper-class.

Common Struggles

~ Being a detail-oriented writer who struggles with efficiency… Here’s the thing. Write down the questions you come up with while writing, put a signifier in your draft, and then move on. Continue writing, because in all reality, it’s not worth your time to squeeze all of that minuscule detail into a first or second draft. Get the actual story done with a solid foundation of information about the relevant subjects, and then when you’re confident in your current draft, move onto the little things.

~ How far should I go when taking artistic liberties?… Make the time period and the location familiar and make the characters fit logically into it. Beyond that, nitpicking is not your responsibility. It’s historical fiction. Unless you’re wildly misrepresenting a serious issue or an important detail, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t take liberties where you see fit. It’s one thing to decide tomatoes did exist in Italy during the 14th century and another to erase a minority struggle in your historical fiction story. It’s fairly simple.

~ Speech patterns and vernacular of different time periods… Speech patterns are difficult to smoothly incorporate into text anyhow, but if it’s relevant to your plot, there are a lot of resources on speech during different time periods and the dialects in various areas of the world. The vernacular of languages are more important to research, especially for dialogue, but this is also something you can hire an specialized editor to work with you on. I would use texts of the time period as a jumping-off point, translated into their original version but in whatever language you speak, and then compare patterns you see between them.

~ Portraying historical figures… This is subjective, and whether the figure is dead or alive is also important to consider. Unless they’re an integral character in your story, my best advice would be to portray them with the enduring attitude of the majority, such as neutrality for a figure like John F. Kennedy, or negativity for figures like Adolf Hitler. This is highly subjective to your story and their role in it.

~ Depicting more recent time periods… If you have no experience with that time period and the events within it, and you have the option of asking someone you know, I recommend doing so. However, take bias and perspective into account when incorporating the information you glean into your story. Try to depict them with more nostalgia than stereotype.

Other Resources

Resources For Writing Royalty

Commentary on Social Issues In Writing

Describing Setting

Resources For Worldbuilding

Resources For Describing Physical Things

Things To Know About Your Real-Life Setting

Guide To Political World Building

Tips on Introducing Political Backstory

Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : High Middle Ages & Renaissance

Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : 1600s

Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : 1700s

Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : 1800s

Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : 1900-1939

Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : 1940-1969

Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : 1970-1999

Writing Other Eras

World Building In Historical Fiction

Historically Accurate Dialogue

Accuracy vs Relatability

Guide To Writing Historical Fiction

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Masterlist | WIP Blog

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[wastelandcrown]

all’s fair in fake love and gore

CHAPTER 1: (un)predictability

Summary: Roman and Patton have been dating for a while, and it’s fine. Remus doesn’t care. Unfortunately, it’s another excuse for his family to put Roman on a pedestal. Except that, through a turn of events nobody expected, Remus ends up pretending to be madly in love with his close friend Logan for his family’s holiday trip. Both parties are convinced nothing will happen between them. Roman and Patton, however, are terrible meddlers who believe in the power of love.

Warnings: Potential ooc behavior, Lightly tense family dynamics, Remus being Remus, OCs for family members (If I miss something please tell me!)

Notes: Listen-I hate the holidays but I live for this trope. I’ll try my hardest to do it justice and make it work. Name was suggested to me by the lovely @grayskiesrainyskies, thank you ma’am!!

Pairings: Intrulogical, Royality, Creativitwins

Two hours. It’s just two more hours. He’s reasoning with himself against all odds, but the urge to slam his head against the dining table is palpable and he’s barely holding it together. Remus had always hated family dinners, he hadn’t even bothered going up until recently. Adulthood was messy. Family was messier. More accurately, Remus was the mess of the family. Roman and him had long since mended their relationship, they even hung around in the same circle! That only made it worse when Roman and their mutual friend Patton started dating. It’s not that he wasn’t happy for them, he was. Their fluffy, happy, fairy-tale romance was something out of some god damned Disney movie, and Remus was so happy someone put up with Roman’s hopeless romanticism. Except now, because the family loves Patton.

He’s spent the entire night being as family friendly as he possibly could. It was a tiring effort to be dressed up like a “normal person”, without any makeup or accessories, and placating the old fleabags that he happened to be related to. Even then, he got the typical onslaught of negative attention. He didn’t even care. He didn’t, he really really didn’t. What made the dinner so wildly unbearable was Patton’s existence. He got along with everyone in the family, helped out with cooking, set the table, watched the kids, and was entirely sweet and rated-G. The family doted on him. Remus and Roman’s parents told Roman that Patton was “the one”. Both pairs of grandparents called him a “sweet young man” who was “the perfect homemaker for Roman”. Ugh. Perfect Roman, perfect Patton, and their perfect romance. 

Dinner came, and now the family can’t seem to stop asking them happy little questions. The kids table even came over with the occasional curiosity about Patton and Roman. Remus could tell Roman’s calm and polite demeanor was shattering around question thirty. Even Patton was tired at question fifty. Then Aunt Patty had to open her stupid mouth.

“Well Patton,” She says with a wide smile, “You really are such a great young man! It’s quite the blessing that you’re with Roman.”

There it is. That’s what Remus has been waiting for all night. 

“Aunt Patty, please,” Roman mutters, putting his head in his hands.

“Uhm, I’m not really sure what you mean!” Patton laughs nervously, genuinely confused about what she means. 

The table laughs, and Aunt Patty continues, “Oh, well, I just mean that you chose the right twin!”

Roman succumbs to the urge and lets his head slide onto the table, his hands are behind his head and squeezing at his neck. Patton stares at Aunt Patty like she’s gone mad. Remus slips his butter knife off the table and stabs the back of his hand with it. It hurts, but skin doesn’t break. Most of the table laughs. His parents, his grandparents, his aunts and uncles, his adult cousins. They all laugh at the prospect of someone so nice dating someone like Remus. He stabs his hand again, harder this time.

His mother pipes up next, and Patton looks as if he’s going to lose his mind, “It’s a blessing really! If Remus brought someone home they’d probably be crazier than he is!”

“We really are lucky he doesn’t keep partners around for long!” Says his grandfather, and the table laughs again. Remus stabs his hand again.

He can see the gears of Patton's brain working as Roman sits up, “Guys,”

There’s something dangerous behind Patton’s eyes, “Can we please,”

Patton smiles in a way that makes Remus panicky, “Just leave Remus alone?”

He’s got a devious plan, and Remus can tell by the way he places a soft hand on Roman’s shoulder.

He brightly says, “See, Remus, this is why I told you you should have brought him!”, while making the most innocently intense eye-contact Remus has ever had. 

Patton has been spending way too much time with Janus. 

Everyone goes silent. Even the kids, which is a miracle. Remus stabs himself in the hand for the fourth time, the skin breaks. His blood gets onto the sleeve of the white button-up Roman lent him. 

“Remus,” His father speaks very softly, “Do you have a partner?”

Patton smiles at him again, he thinks it over once or twice, “Yeah, what about it?”

“Why didn’t you bring them?” His mother asks with excitement clear in her voice.

Remus scowls, and everyone knows why, “You literally just fu-freaking laughed about his mere existence.”

One of his uncles clears his throat and breaks the silence, ��H-How long have you been with them?” 

“Six months.” Remus lies, he hopes the three of them can act well enough to pull it off.

That amount of time is five months longer than any of his previous flings, and his parents erupt into dramatic cries, “You haven’t told us after half a year!”

“I told Roman and Patton!” He yells back, turning back to his food and shoving some in his mouth to angrily chew.

“Roman! Patton! Who is it? Do we know him? Is it serious?” His father has stood up and has leaned over the table to interrogate the pair. 

“Do-” Roman starts, and Remus knows he’s doomed, “Do you remember my friend, Logan?” 

Remus kicks Roman under the table. As hard as he possibly can. His father stops moving, his mother drops her fork. 

“You’re lying.”

“He’s not!” Patton chirps, “None of us expected it either but they’re very cute together!”

“Is Logan that stuck-up boy from their high school graduation who kept talking about following the proper protocol?” His grandma asks with a surprisingly shocked expression.

“That’s the one!” Roman points as he speaks, then the entire family has their eyes on Remus again. 

“What? Are you looking for some explanation or something? He’s smart and he’s hot and he respects my choices,” Remus scoffs out, getting out of his chair and taking his plate to the kitchen, “I’m not talking about this anymore.” 

Patton and Roman follow him into the kitchen with their plates. As he scrapes his plate into the trash, he gives Patton the most intense glare. 

“Remus, I’m so sorry-” Patton pauses, and snatches him by the hand, “Did you stab yourself!?”

The next two hours, nobody brings anything up. It’s a breath of fresh air to have them shocked into respecting his damn privacy. Family leave or head to bed. The only people left awake when the trio are leaving are the twins' parents.

“What do you want, dad?” Remus asks when his father approaches.

His father gives a smile that he assumes was supposed to be warm, and opens his mouth to speak.

“Dad, Remus and I should really be going,” Roman cuts in, probably to try and save Remus from a potentially foreboding conversation.

Roman is pushing Patton and Remus towards the door, their dad chuckles. They must look fairly comedic with Roman angrily pushing against their backs as they stand without budge.

“Remus, you know the family’s winter trip is coming up,” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” He rolls his eyes, and Patton smacks him upside the head.

“Your mother and I would like to extend the invitation to Logan, to get to know him.”

The room is so silent, you can almost hear Aunt Patty snoring in the guest room. Despite everything, Remus can’t bring himself to just say “no” to this offer. The family Cabin is huge, beautiful, quiet, and has a very nice library. Y’know, rich people shit. It really does seem like something Logan would love under different different circumstances. 

He agreed to ask, but he was sure Logan would say no.

“No.”

Called it. Remus knew that even if himself, Roman, and Patton groveled and begged, Logan was not going to budge.

“Logan! It’s only two weeks!” Roman pleads.

“You need a break anyway! What’s more relaxing than being my little boytoy!” Remus grumbles, he’s only partially joking. Logan does need a break, he can tell.

“Okay but have you seen their cabin?” Patton asks in the innocently excited way he tends to do.

That piqued Logan’s interest. He looks at Patton and inquisitively moves his eyebrow vaguely upwards. Roman opens up a folder on his phone of photos from the cabin. There are nearly two hundred, but each photo is whittling down Logan’s resolve. He thinks again about their neat little family library. The fairly large room goes almost entirely unused, only with two exceptions. Remus, and long past on Gran-Gran. Remus remembers sitting on his great-grandmother’s lap while she read to him countless stories. She didn’t mind his weirdness. Logan didn’t mind much either. He’d be alone with hundreds of books for three weeks, what more could he want? He’d just have to let Remus sit in. 

“You know,” Remus leans in, whispering into Logan’s ear very gently, “We’ve got a big library.”

That’s what breaks Logan, who lets out the longest sigh Remus has ever heard in his life.

He agrees to go on two conditions. He will have physical contact with Remus but he will not kiss him, and he gets the make up the story of how the pair met. Remus couldn’t be more ecstatic. His family could suck it! He had a sexy ass fake boyfriend, who's probably gonna make up some dumb and adorable story about meeting in at a Library Book Club Meeting. Logan’s hot, he’s hot. It will work out. No strings attached. None. 

Roman jokes to Remus everyday before the trip that we all know how the trip will end. Remus thinks he’s more unpredictable than that. He hopes he is. 

[mismashedsocks]

 so riordan made a half assed lame excuse on his lazy/racist writing on piper yesterday and on top of that he made another one on samirah and i’m muslim so i am going to talk about it

damn i’m so sorry these people have been pushing you past your comfort zone about your wildly popular racist caricatures of minorities that have great impact on your young, impressionable target audience. while its fine that if he takes a break for his mental health he still needs to deal with these problems you can’t just take a break and hope they go away.

why does he think everyone is bullying him. if they talked in all caps, cussed at you, or didn’t stop bothering you, i’m sorry they’re just trying to get you to realize how racist your books are, which you keep refusing to believe. i can believe that a few of them were doing it for attention, but it couldn’t be the majority. and my god, god forbid people want you to write your books the way you preferred, without racist stereotypes. 🙈

you can set your boundaries but you keep ignoring the people, you don’t listen. like you put yourself out there as a writer you are open to criticism

why does he keep doing this to seem like the good guy. you give excuses and don’t do anything and just say that its up to you, you can think whatever you want 🥰🥰. like its such an obvious excuse not to take any action.

i’m sorry but no matter how many muslims you’ve interacted with you haven’t gotten the full experience and last time i checked teachers aren’t the kids best friends soo uhm. anyways the rest of it is just him telling his experience with muslimah students so its just there.

so uhm you just said your students ‘unwillingly’ become an ambassador to everyone she knew’. and then you went to talk to them about islam to make sure you were TEACHING THEM YOUR SOURCE MATERIAL CORRECTLY. i’m sorry imagine. these are kids not some scholars you go to consult. there are so many muslims all over the internet and youtube sharing their experiences for you to access on how to ‘represent their experience’ correctly. you’re the teacher here. picture this:as a muslilm, i teach at a public school and while teaching about Christianity in class, no i would double check or some dumb shit with the students. like educate yourself i’m sorry. anyways apparently he blames his mistakes on himself then goes on to deny he ever made any mistakes i can’t.

so this is a blatant lie. 99% of muslims i’ve met have never read all of sahih bukhari and sahih muslim. usually only scholars do that when they are studying islam for YEARS. and FIVE different interpretations of the quran on top of that. ok so sahih bukhari is 9 books that are over 300 pages each and sahih musilm is 7 volumes with also about 300+ pages each. and then the english versions of the quran are 600 pages. and he claims he read five of them. i’m so sorry but no he didn’t. he writes books so fast and he released mcga around the time toa was being released almost one book per year so he did not have a lot of spare time. the rest ig i can let slide. also and if he did do all of that why does he make so many mistakes in writing samirah. and even IF you accept his excuses reading ALL of this source material is great for teaching your class or whatever but not for writing a modern day muslim. you don’t need to lie to us rick ❤️

most of this is just describing what she’s like but his writing did also add in the model minority, smart kid trope. like no they don’t have to be a terrorist or a A+ student who is the best at everything. there is a middle ground to their personality. 

i actually used to love his rep in sam. that’s how i got into the series. i saw a hijabi girl on his website. i got excited and read all of his books. i loved piper, leo, hazel, percy, annabeth, sadie, carter, nico, everyone. now that i look back i was younger and didn’t see anything wrong with it back then. its great that he tried to portray minorities but he did it so badly and now is just denying the faults that his now older readers are trying to tell him.

hey, uhm didn’t you read all of sahih bukhari and muslim? hmm i didn’t think so. anyways the way he dealt with it honestly wasn’t that bad. but the whole ‘whoops’. like why does he keep portraying himself as the innocent old white man just trying his best.

honestly how he wrote samirah as a hijabi was the dumbest thing i’ve ever read. its is totally fine if she wasn’t hijabi, many muslim girls aren’t, and that is their choice. but he decided to make her like a weird middle ground. it was so lazy and inconsistent. in the first book she says she wears it when she needs to, like in situations like going to the masjid. this was fine, since many muslim girls do that. then in the next books she wears it all the time except when she’s in valhalla for some reason. hijabi girls take of their scarves when they’re at home or with family, but making her claim the entirety of vallhalla as her family. that was just demeaning and stupid to me. it takes away its value. and i fucking hated that last sentence. for hijabis, their hijab is important and not a toy or weapon or a MAGIC ITEM. and then on top of that she would have to take it of to hide. he could’ve made it anything else. her hijab isn’t some token item istg.

i love how he admits that they are a big problem and abusive and usually engage with child marriages. i’m relatively he doesn’t understand what the people even meant by it. the practice is a problem that isn’t supposed to be seen in a nice light. the only possible way it could be slightly ok is that if ADULTS agree they 100% do not want to choose who they want to get married to and let their parents choose, and both sides agree. samirah was a child and he decided to make her wedding life decided since the age of 12. and it was ok because amir was conventionally attractive and she loved him. WHAT IF SHE DIDNT. this literally is a dangerous arranged marriage. and arranged marriages are not ok, and mostly perpetuated by victims of it who will end up passing it down their family lines. my parents got an arranged marriage and I HAVE NEVER SEEN THEM DISPLAY ANY SIGNS OF AFFECTION. arranged marriages are not a trope that your can turn around to be a quirky personality trait for your characters.

i’m sorry that’s not how arranged marriages work. most likely if she said something her grandparents would have shut her done and continued with the marriage, as that is what you usually happens. do not portray the small amount of consented, ‘happy’ arranged marriages as the majority. it is a huge problem that many desi/middle eastern cultures are trying to erase. even on top of that he writes situations where she’s going to be in trouble for acting up and ‘jeopardizing the marriage agreement’ and that her grandparents think she’s ‘lucky that she could get the fadlan family to agree to marry their son to her’. these statements are often used in forced and dangerous marriages, so don’t try and justify your actions. if you wanted to show traditional customs in a positive light, there are so many richer parts of samirah’s culture you could’ve focused on and you chose arranged marriage. 😻 all you’ve done is given parents and authority figures a westernized resource to justify arranged and forced marriages, especially with the minimal explanation on how the marriage isn’t forced in the actual books. and yes, your books do condone child marriage samirah is clearly deemed into this marriage ever since the young age of 12. she lived her life knowing she would marry amir. no one has only one crush throughout their life. imagine how she would’ve grown up. sorry you only consider opinions that align with those in you mind.

i’m going to be honest i did like that one scene it was written nicely and accurately but the explanation he gives just ruins the entire thing. the way he just if this strikes you as islamophobic, or samirah as a hurtful, uhm no explanation i just disagree 😽. the way you wrote her is a hurtful stereotype sorry you can’t see it.

oops, you did. too bad you don’t want to do anything about it.

why do you think people are painting you in a negative light, so many of your characters are written on hurtful and negative stereotypes. people aren’t painting it that way, you need to calm down w your ego and listen. dang i’m sorry your best is giving half-assed excuses and not actually doing anything. i’m even more sorry people are mad that a highly privileged author that has a lot of influence is done talking about his racist depictions of minorities in his books. 

dang must be lucky to take a break from the social media, imagine what all the minorities you wrote about have to go with everyday weather they are on social media or not. people aren’t bullying you this is valid criticism you refuse to listen to.

fuck you

obviously these are my opinions do not judge every muslim based on what i’ve said come to me if you have a problem with it

anyways support jewish, muslim, black, brown, asian, hispanic, indigenous, lgbtq+, disabled, and other minority authors and creators.

[skellebonez]

Smoke, Flasks, And Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 3

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link!

Chapter 2 Link!

Summary: MK starts to realize things are a bit too familiar right now, an unspoken event is revealed, and someone else realizes other things. There is a lot to unpack.

Warnings: Mild violence and smoking at the tail end.

Chapter 3: Big Words Traveler, But Can You Back Them Up

Something felt... off. That's the only way MK could describe it. Off.

It reminded him of the Calabash when he thought about it, but was it even possible? When Jin and Yin had trapped him in that weird mechanical gourd thing they had tried to make everything perfect, barring those odd earthquakes and the glitches that his mind made excuses for ignoring at the time. Really, they were actually pretty bad at their scheme and he should have picked up on it a lot sooner. This time nothing felt perfect, however, everything felt... mostly normal.

The Monkey King kicked his butt in scheduled training and then lost matches in Monkey Mech and refused to stop until he had best out of 15. Mei and Red Son seemed to be acting like normal. No earthquakes. No glitches.

But his time in the Calabash had made him more observant of his surroundings and his mistake with Macaque had made him less trusting. The fact the weather station called for rain and it had not rained? That was just odd enough to catch his attention when the weather station hadn't messed up a forecast without someone attacking it or really messing something up, something that always got local news alerts sent to their phones and would have had Mei making fun of the poor sap who messed up by now, in the entire time he had a phone.

Something didn’t just feel off. Something was off. And just in case he was right he needed to play his cards carefully. Do something that wouldn’t raise suspicion.

“Hey, Monkey King?” He smiled, knowing that his expression was just fake enough that if the other were real he would call it in an instant. He would raise his eyebrow or ask him what was up or ask him what the look was for. “We have any snacks?”

“Yeah, bud, coming right up!” He just... smiled. Stood. Walked into the kitchen.

This was not The Great Sage Equal To Heaven.

This was not his mentor.

Well... Shit.

----------

“Wait, back up,” Mei turned from where she sat at the boat wheel. “What does that even mean?”

MK had gotten her to stop before they were nearly back to the City, feeling bad they stopped in such a poor spot for Red Son but determined to talk when they were seemingly alone. He’d played along and only grown more certain in his deduction that the person they were with was not the Monkey King. The more he paid attention the more certain he was that they weren’t on Flower Fruit Mountain either.

The mountain always smelled of four things. Flowers, peaches, dirt, and the slightest undertone of molten rock and ash from close by the Flaming Mountains. The more he tried to pick up the normal scents that would hit him they just seemed... muted, somehow. Like smelling them through a mask or like they were artificial. The rock and ash was nowhere to be found at all.

And there was more. He tried so hard to remember how he got to the mountain. Logically he knew they took a boat, they had to do that. There was a boat on the shore. But that was the first thing he remembered seeing. He could not remember the boat ride over, could not remember the walk to where they docked the boat at all, could barely remember anything past leaving Pigsy’s Noodles at all. Gaps in his memory were not an every day occurrence for him (despite Pigsy teasing him about forgetting to do his job, that was not the same thing).

The only things he knew for certain were real were Mei and Red Son. He’d almost let his anxiety get the better of him, memories of summoning monster trees with his stress being the thing that made him focus long enough to test the waters.

He knew that burying his face in their hair and smelling them was weird as hell, even given their close relationship that was pushing it way too far in comfort, but given scent was the most telling sense giving him pause he had to try once Monkey King was distracted. If it had been any other situation Mei and Red Son’s disturbed and confused faces (and the muffled “what the fuck dude” from Mei) would have been hilarious, but when he could clearly smell Mei’s tea tree shampoo mixed in with the ever present scent her bike’s motor oil he was certain she was real. He was almost certain when Red tensed up and flushed when he repeated the action, but the scent of slight burning and his overly expensive coconut oil and jasmine shampoo cemented the fact he was real as well.

He’d make up for making them uncomfortable after all this was over.

“Exactly what I said, that wasn’t Monkey King,” MK repeated, looking over the horizon at the city-scape. Still no rain. No clouds. It was half an hour until sundown. “I don’t... this is going to sound crazy... but I don’t think this is real.”

His companions looked at each other in clear concern and MK knew he would finally have to come clean. “MK, wh-”

“There’s something I never told any of you. Not even Monkey King. Just... promise you’ll listen to me?”

----------

When he finished recounting the long ago misadventure he had in Jin and Yin’s Calabash he couldn’t look Mei and Red Son in their eyes. Despite knowing he probably shouldn’t he felt guilty for keeping something that important a secret.

“Oh MK... That’s why you were so preoccupied with us not being perfect,” Mei said softly, standing to envelop her friend in a sudden hug that barely shook the boat. “I’m sorry for losing my cool with you back then.I should have known something was weird when you said that.”

A shaky breathe MK didn’t know he was holding escaped, grateful that they seemed to believe him immediately.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry,” MK pulled away, giving Mei an awkward smile. Red Son had moved closer, and he shot him a smile as well when he placed a hand on his shoulder. “I should have told everyone when it happened, I just... I felt..” He trailed off, looking at the rainless city again. “We can unpack that later, right now we need to see if we’re really in another Calabash or if it’s something similar. If it is Jin and Yin again they’ve really stepped up their game.”

“I don’t think so...” Red Son said thoughtfully. He bit the end of his thumb nail, pacing the boat slowly in thought. “They seemed more preoccupied with just... having fun almost, last time. They didn’t seem to have an endgame past ‘capture the Monkie Kid’. What’s the end game? Why capture all three of us?”

“Yeah...” MK sighed, looking around carefully. “I dunno.. come to think of it, it all just feels different. This time it’s a lot closer and that is really scary if I’m being honest,” MK shuddered, not comfortable with how much better it was if he was really correct. “But it isn’t 100% accurate. Everything smells dull and Monkey King wasn’t picking up on things he normally would have.”

“Is that why you smelled o-”

“Unpacking later!”

“Why don’t we do what you did to get out last time?” Red Son interrupted, looking hopeful that he had solved the problem already. “We just have to find your staff.”

“Yeah that... that’s another problem...” MK bit his lip and held his hand up to his ear. The glow that lit from it illuminated the dawning horror on his friend’s faces as the staff materialized in his hand. They both seemed to regret not watching MK train that day when they realized what this meant. “That... may not work this time.”

----------

“You’re bleedin’ delusional!” The demon couldn’t help but groan out, pacing wildly in growing frustration. Before them both was a set of screens, watching the display of the trio’s conversation. The entire room looked like something right out of one of those American spy thrillers they’d seen, computers and monitors hooked up and showing a multitude of views. “I told you, you can’t just throw that many people in at once! It doesn’t matter how improved it is, it messes up, confuses the simulation! And-and you let ‘im keep the bloody staff! He’s-”

“Not getting out any time soon,” the other demon, seated comfortably in the only chair in the room, soothed. Their words were like poisoned honey and the first demon grimaced. How they let themselves be taken in by these words... they would never forgive themselves now, not after all of this. Not after what happened to- “Patience is what you and your brother lacked the first time. They don’t need to believe it, they just need to stay in it. Come now, you need to... relax.”

The first demon, the smaller demon, backed a step away as the seated one sat up straighter. They weren’t fast enough to get away from the clawed hand that gripped their throat, cutting off their air supply and pulling them far too close to the other’s face. No fight was given, they knew what would happen if they tried, and watched anxiously as the seated demon raised their forearm long smoking pipe to their lips to take a long drag on whatever foul concoction they had in it.

“Just rest Yin.” Their open mouth revealed colored smoke, sickeningly sweet and fruity smelling, swirling around inside before they loosened the grip on his throat to blow it directly into his face as he took a hasty breath of oxygen. "Perhaps you'll be more patient after a nice long nap."

The blue demon coughed when the other finally let him go, breathing deeply in the hopes he didn’t inhale as much smoke as he feared he did. As he tipped backward onto the ground he knew that was a fruitless thought. Now he laid on the ground with his head fuzzy and gaze filled with the equally unconscious visage of his elder brother.

The Gold and Silver demons... had really messed up...

[yukiwrites]

Sothis, Loathing

Thank you so much for the support as always, @xpegasusuniverse​! I hope you like it!

Summary: In Askr, there were many stories of Heroes who had fought against Dragons of Destructions back in their own worlds, to the point that at least one out of three people had come from a world threatened by an evil dragon. Sothis felt the presence of one tailing her as she and Byleth went to look into their circumstances...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Having a physical body was more exhausting than Sothis remembered; if she had any memories at all, though.

Not counting the pesky Golden Deer poking at her patience at every waking moment, there was also the issue of walking with your own two feet to move from place to place. Never would Sothis think that she would’ve preferred to be a non corporeal being if it meant never having to stomp her bare foot on the cold stone again.

Of course, it wasn’t as though she actually had to stomp on the floor, but not stomping wasn’t an option, especially whenever she felt irritated, so the goddess could always be seen wearing a scowl unbefitting of her small stature. She crossed her arms as she and Byleth headed to the library as it had been their custom for the past few days.

Commander Anna and the Summoner had made it seen through their actions that the books in Anna’s office weren’t privy to the heroes, so it fell on Byleth and Sothis themselves to research their circumstances. Unexpectedly enough, there were many books that hailed from Fódlan in that strange, almost mystical, library. It looked like the size of a small room from the outside, but spammed rows and more rows of bookcases as though they headed ad infinitum.

Once they entered, Byleth immediately made eye contact with Robin, the ylissean tactician.

“Oh, Byleth. Reading again today?” The white-haired man smiled politely, nodding to his fellow researcher.

“Yes. Literature from my own world hasn’t been helpful so I wanted to broaden my scope.” The Professor replied with a business-like tone, making Robin nod in agreement.

“Mhm, mhm. I, too, read many books from other worlds while looking into my own, so I can give you a few recommendations if you want?”

“That sounds wonderful.” Byleth concurred, stealing a glance at Sothis as though she was a child getting in the way of adult’s talk.

She squinted once their eyes met, as though she could read his thoughts. “Even if I possess a physical body at the moment, it does not mean that our shared mindscape is empty, you fool.” 

Perhaps it was because Sothis was a non corporeal being from the start, but Byleth found it difficult to access their mindscape once they reached Askr, so hearing her confirm that she had access to his thoughts to some degree only made his smile grow.

He patted Sothis on the head as he chatted away with Robin, picking up the tactician’s suggested books before heading to an empty table. The three of them sat there -- Byleth and Sothis on one side with Robin opposite of them -- as they discussed the similar topics of their worlds as well as other interesting connections.

Robin tried to insert Sothis into the conversation from time to time as well, but she only rolled her eyes and pretended not to hear him, wanting to have nothing to do with a conversation borne out of pity.

It’s here again, Sothis thought with annoyance as she felt a piercing gaze burn a hole at the back of her neck,. She had felt someone observing her movements the day after they had arrived, wondering what they could possibly want from a goddess that’s probably not even the one they had in their world.

Narrowing her eyes, Sothis looked back from her seat, seeing the tips of a fluttering cape -- or cloak -- disappear behind a large bookshelf.

She then jumped onto the floor from the tall chair, landing without a sound as Byleth checked on her with the corner of his eyes. She tapped on his hand before leaving, as though signaling him that she would be close.

Nodding, Byleth simply let her do as she pleased and kept talking with Robin.

The only sound following Sothis was the low hiss of her long dress dragging behind her calm yet rushed steps towards that revolting presence she had felt observe her.

The moment she reached the bookshelf, she crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, most likely to make herself sound imposing although she could barely reach people’s chests with her short height.

“State your business at once.” Sothis commanded with the authority of a goddess towards the malevolent aura that surrounded the man Sothis had just been with back at the table: the presence wore Robin’s face and body like a cloak.

“... Why are you so chummy with your vessel?” Grima’s distorted voice sounded from deep within Robin’s throat, making Sothis narrow her eyes even more at the disturbing question. Sothis stole a glance at the table, confirming that Robin and Byleth were still chatting away.

“You are not making any sense. Vessel?” She turned her gaze to this revolting individual.

Grima, who had been slouching by the bookcase, stood straight as his scrutinizing gaze observed the little girl in front of him. “I have been watching you and your vessel for the past few days, but it is truly an incomprehensible sight, so I’ve had no choice but to ask. Why are you forming bonds with him when all you’ll do is overlap his ego with yours?”

Sothis’s eyes shook and she almost forgot how to breathe. “What manner of nonsense are you speaking of right now? It is indeed true that we are here in search of ways to separate ourselves but- for me to take over a body that isn’t mine?”

The man surrounded in a dark aura took one hand to his chin in thought as he observed the girl in silence. After a few seconds, his eyes slowly widened as though he had come to a conclusion. “You truly have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Enough with this play with words!” Sothis seethed, somehow remembering to keep her voice down despite stomping her foot hard on the wooden floor.

Shaking his head, Grima peeked at the direction of the table, watching as another vessel that was made specifically for him laughed as though his future wasn’t set in stone. He slowly opened his mouth to speak. “I, too, suffered from memory loss after taking over this body -- I still have gaps in my memory, so I’ll let you in on a good piece of information, from one god to the other: that man you’re so attached with, he’s even more twisted than this flesh I wear.” Grima placed one hand over his own chest. “You managed to make a meat-puppet that was capable of thought while infusing him with your own power as his center.”

Everything Grima said flew right over Sothis’ head, making the girl blink in confusion. However, Grima continued.

“For me to be able to inhabit this body, I had to wait a millennia for the right vessel to be born. Countless years I waited for the right combination of blood and darkness to gather in a human so I could wear him to unleash my power to the world.” Grima spoke nonchalantly, as though they were talking a stroll. A devious smirk grew on the corners of his mouth. “But this? You managed to accurately craft a jar of flesh and blood with the minimum of free will necessary to make your take over as smooth as possible. It is inspiring -- perhaps the next body I inhabit will be crafted to perfection just so I don’t have to deal with that buzzing ego that never seems to go away.”

The tips of Sothis’ fingers grew cold at the sheer absurdity of what she was hearing. Her heart beat wildly inside her chest -- something that would be impossible were it not for Askr’s magic -- which also made her recall some long lost memories.

They were simple glimpses of what once was, and immediately disappeared from her memory as she grasped them, like dust to the wind. She felt like the darkness of those who live under the ground was shaking her very being into remembering something vital to her sense of self.

Each time she saw it, she forgot it immediately. Only the vague and unsettling sense of foreboding engulfed her like a wave.

“Do not-” her voice shook, “do not compare me to servants of the darkness like you filth!” Sothis’ shoulders trembled, though not by fear nor self-preservation.

She was angry.

She was furious.

That entire speech hit her the wrong way, making the girl want to stomp on that bug who wore Robin’s face.

Grima, however, threw his head back in a low, mocking chuckle. “Servant? I am the lord. Wherever I step, darkness follows.” His sharp gaze pierced into hers, as though they shared a battle of wills.

That made Sothis open and close her fists lest she used the draconic power inside of her to obliterate that lowly being that dared to suggest that she- that she did something so inhumane!

“Besides, it is fruitless to direct your anger at me; the deed is done and the meat-puppet grew into a fine specimen ready for the overtaking.” Grima pointed at Byleth’s back, accurately pointing to the place where his heart would be. “The center of your power is there, you need simply to call upon it.”

Angry as she might’ve been, Sothis felt compelled to look at the direction the finger was pointing. She gasped once she noticed something she had never paid attention to before.

Perhaps it was because she and Byleth had shared the same body, so it was a different issue to be able to pinpoint something within one’s shared body and when looking from the outside. Sothis could see that Grima’s finger pointed straight to the center of Byleth’s body; to the place that his heart should’ve occupied.

She felt a power akin to her own in there -- no, it wasn’t merely ‘akin’, but identical! She could feel as though a piece of herself was there, right inside Byleth’s heart.

Or perhaps, it was there in place of his heart, as the core of his entire being.

When had she left that power there? Was it the reason why Byleth had been so apathetic the first time they met?

Loathe as she was to trust Grima’s words, Sothis couldn’t help but feel that what he had said was true: Byleth barely had had an ego before he started teaching. He also had the power of a god sleeping inside of him.

Perhaps the anomaly in this case was Sothis appearing in his mind instead of overtaking his body right away as Grima suggested.

She had heard about Grima from Robin during their constant meetings in the library, so Sothis was aware of how a god could descend onto a human being of their choice -- but to think that Byleth seemed like a fabricated being that would only serve as her medium to the world?

That felt wrong. No, that felt terrible.

Was Sothis this kind of person before she lost her memories? Someone so terribly calculating that they would make an entire new body from scratch and imbue it with some power before being allowed to take over it once the time came?

Sothis was confused.

She felt repulsed by Grima’s acts, but since there was not much for her to go on regarding her and Byleth’s situations since it all already happened, there was nothing Sothis could do apart from keep on researching.

Robin wasn’t even the only proof of a god descending on a human’s body in this world, either, so the more Sothis thought about it, the more sense Grima’s words made. But she refused to even think that he could have been right at some point, not wanting her own self to be someone she loathed.

Noticing the horror in the girl’s eyes, Grima simply took a few steps back to hide beneath the shadows, ever observing these new players that had come to this immense play that was the world Askr.

[allycryz]

WOL Challenge #7: Want

[Prompt List Here]

[Filled Prompts Here]

Early Shadowbringers spoilers, companion piece of sorts to Day 4: Outrage

Rating: Explicit 

Pairings: Nerys x Haurchefant

Summary: Nerys and Haurchefant’s reunion on the first. Sometimes, bodies and minds don’t cooperate and even though you’re horny and can’t keep your hands off your lover. 

(Basically–I wanted to write about how things going “wrong” in the bedroom is not an indictment of your relationship. Sometimes there are a million little factors that get in the way.)

--

They cannot leave Eulmore fast enough.

Neither speaks as they hasten over dirt roads and dry, brittle grass. Gatetown grows smaller and smaller but somehow, the tiered city only looms more. When will they send someone to hunt them? The way those girls in harlequin motley moved–Nerys saw the training in it. Should they need to, that pair can kill. And quickly.

Reason prevails by the third hill along with the chilling memory of the singer. Her patron’s promise of ascension. She’d had an uneasy feeling before and now, after seeing the tame sin eaters in Vauthry’s chamber…

“They don’t kill where others will see,” Nerys says aloud. “Into the sea or fed to their monsters. I think we’ll be alright.”

“...Twelve preserve,” Alphinaud murmurs. “I knew there was something terribly wrong, but I had no real notion. It’s the one place the Exarch hasn’t sent spies.”

“That is telling. About their security and about what could wait inside.” 

Alphinaud scrubs a hand over his face. A rare nervous gesture for him, even in front of close friends. He strives to appear cool and calculating in all things. She clasps his shoulder and squeezes. “We’ll figure this out, Alphi. How to help them.”

He huffs a laugh. “Do you know...I actually missed you calling me that.”

“You didn’t like it before? I’m so sorry, I would never have-”

“No, no, please Nerys. I didn’t dislike it so much as...felt it was undignified. But now?” He looks up at her. Smiles. “I’m glad to be with my friend again, and I want her to use it.”

“Alright,” she grins back. Grateful for the spot of warmth after the utter horror behind them. “But if I ever do anything-”

A shadow falls over them.

Nerys’ gaze jerks up as she reaches for her lance. Not a sin eater but something coming from the monstrous cliffs, circling once. Twice. And then it dives down towards them.

Her thighs and calves sing in anticipation, ready to leap. Beside her, Alphinaud murmurs a spell. The dark shape becomes the silhouette of an amaro, becomes a more defined beast, and the rider–

The rider yells something. Unintelligible, and then not. It is her name. It is her name and the voice is–and the rider is–

“Nerys!” He calls again. His blue cape streams behind him as the amaro dives. Unceasing light gleams against his golden armor. To her eye, he looks like a hero summoned out of an ancient tale to offer aid.

“Haurchefant!” She rushes forward and he jumps from his mount, the beast landing seconds later. It’s not clear who touches who first–her arms thrown about his neck, his about her waist. He lifts her off the ground and spins her about, his laughter the purest music to her ears.

Nerys cradles her leather-clad hand against his cheek and kisses him. It has only been weeks for her, but losing him atop everything else had near broken her. 

For him, it has been two years. No wonder he kisses her so fiercely, so deeply, the rest of the world falls away. She feels him tremble against her. Tears fall down his cheek. 

“My Haurchefant,” she says, wiping beneath his eyes. “I missed you so much.”

“I’ve ached to see you again.” And then he resumes their kiss, crushing her tight against him. It’s possible he will never let her go again. It’s possible she won’t either.

At last he lifts his head and turns to Alphinaud, eyes bright and shining. The young man pointedly watches the ocean with red cheeks. “Good to see you, Alphinaud. It’s been an age.”

“Yes.” Alphinaud clears his throat. “I wasn’t aware you were around?”

“Mm. Playing the diplomat in the settlements above. You can only get there by amaro.” He gestures to his mount. “Luckily, I’m allowed to partner with Yami when I need wings.”

The amaro in question grants them an unimpressed yawn and turns to sniff at the brush and dirt.

“I was only told you were on a covert mission,” says Nerys, arms staying firmly about his waist.

“And so I was. No doubt Eulmore would be displeased to learn of any alliance that doesn’t funnel more bodies their way.”

At that, Nerys shudders. Does he have any idea how right he is? The grim expression says he might. “But you two seemed set out for somewhere. May I offer my aid?”

“We’re for Cracked Shell Beach,” says Alphinuad. “Our rides await us to return to the Crystarium. It is best that we don’t linger here overlong.”

���It’s safe to say we’re not welcome back to Eulmore.” Nerys tries to keep her tone light. Her right hand clenches and then flexes, directing the tension out of her.

“Say no more.” He brushes his lips against her forehead. “To the beach then. Once you debrief, we will catch up.”

“Indeed.” Alphinaud begins walking again. “If you’ll forgive the turn of phrase, it has been an extremely long day for the both of us.”

“Forgiven,” says Haurchefant with a glance at the undying light above. He clicks his tongue and Yami leaves his foraging to stand beside him. Elezen and beast escort them to the shore.

Nerys feels some of the dread and horror eke away as they walk, their hands brushing against one another.

--

A long day indeed. Their report takes time, weaving the state of Stilltide and Wright into all the details they might remember from Eulmore. The harlequins, the meol, the singer, the entitled lord surrounded by Sin Eaters. Haurchefant is a steady presence at her side, his hand pressed against the small of her back.

Alphinaud’s findings are more limited, having been occupied with the Chais. But with pen and paper he is able to sketch near accurate renditions of the layout and positions of the guards. He recalls the naivete of some servants versus the abject fear he witnessed in the shopkeepers and merchants. Those people were not beholden to individuals with fickle tastes. How many servants had they seen come and go?

“Tomorrow,” says Nerys. “I’ll find Alisaie. As it stands, I need some rest before I leave again.”

“Of course, of course.” The Crystal Exarch nods. “I’ve arranged a suite for you at the Pendants. Pray, go eat and rest. Just tell the Manager your name and he’ll take care of things.”

She nods. “Thank you. Haurchefant, I’ll tell them to expect you?”

“Yes, love.” He kisses her, chaste and gentle before their audience. “I won’t make you wait too long.”

As promised, the Manager brings her to one of the largest suites she has ever seen. Far larger than some apartments in Revenant’s Toll. She must look like a fish, gaping as she does. He smiles and rises to every inch of his considerable height.

“The Exarch asked for my best, dare I assume you like it?”

“I do,” she says, walking over to the long dining table. Nerys could easily host a supper party here. “May I trouble you for the time?”

Her chronometer is wildly out of sync with this timestream. On her way here, the streets had seemed more empty but a city rarely sleeps. A truth both here and the Source. 

The Manager glances at his own device. “Fifteen minutes past the eleventh bell. We keep the shutters closed for our new guests but they are free to open them as they like. Can I get you anything?”

“It looks like there is plenty of food and drink for the next few days. Ah, my companion Lord Haurchefant will come through shortly. He’s allowed to know where my room is.”

“Oh! That’s right, he is another from the Exarch’s homeland…” The man looks thoughtful. “Such a nice man, from what I remember. I’ll point him in the right direction.”

Blessedly, he does not linger. Nerys immediately avails herself of the restroom and then strips off her leathers. She is unbelievably parched and feels dirty, despite her mandatory shower at Eulmore. The perfume they provided is still too cloying upon her. First will be another rinse, and then drinking a carafe’s worth of water to make her feel whole again. 

It hasn’t been that long for her since she saw him. Not really. They had been separated far longer–during the campaigns in Ala Mhigo and Doma. But that had been different. She knew he was safe in Thanalan, under Urianger’s watchful eye. He had fought during their final push, that harrowing night with Zenos and Shinryu. Even then–it was different knowing he battled alongside Aymeric and Lucia.

But when Maxima returned with him as still and waxen as the others, breathing but unresponsive…

Something broke in her that day, against the Ascian wearing Zenos’ corpse. It was not one thing but likely a host of cracks and fissures from near-constant struggle and battle. But if there was one moment that started the chain reaction...it was seeing Haurchefant trapped in his own body.

Having him back feels like the day after her harrowing experience in The Vault. Letting herself into his room and finding him alive and, if not hale and whole, at least recovering. The relief of it threatens to send her crashing down if she thinks too long on it.

Sometimes, Nerys wonders if there is something wrong with her. One person is not meant to feel this much, to have emotion so fierce it seems to course all through her. Years of learning to keep it below the surface only does so much. It doesn’t stop her from experiencing it.

She steps out of the bathroom in a robe and Haurchefant is there, slicing up an apple at the long dining table. He still wears the golden armor and cape–a design, she realises, is very close to what the Crystarium guard wear. Though she has seen none with that color of plate. 

“You could have changed clothes,” she says. “You still can.”

“Ah but…” He rises. “That would have prolonged returning to you. And maybe I want you to see me in my ‘official’ uniform again.”

Nerys walks towards him, taking in the sight, He is always lovely and she suspects he always will be. Fortemps men age extremely well. The ensemble does add a certain...magnificence to him. He might be a prince in such armor, if they still had such titles in Ishgard. “You look amazing. You said you were forming alliances?”

“Mm.” He meets her in the middle of the room, wrapping arms about her. “The dwarves of Tomra are excellent smiths. I thought to impress them with meticulously crafted armor. Different from what I might use to treat with the Night’s Blessed.”

These are all terms she doesn’t know outside of the Exarch’s explanation of where her friends are. He speaks them with such ease, as if he is a son of the First and not a visitor who arrived two years ago.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” She asks, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. 

He smiles. “Oh plenty. For instance, I cannot keep my hands off of you.”

“Good.” She releases his cape from his armor and watches it pool on the ground. “Then don’t.”

Thus permitted, Haurchefant kisses her as fiercely as he did in Kholusia. His armor presses against the fluffy white material of her robe, her exposed skin, and she doesn’t care. It is a welcome prod against her fatigue along with the aching need clenching at her center. 

He tilts up her chin and presses a hungry mouth to the underside of her jaw, to her throat. She shivers as his gauntleted hands cradle either side of her neck. Haurchefant knows she cannot abide pressure at her throat stronger than a bite or kiss. Cold metal laying atop her shoulders is different. 

Nerys doesn’t know what it means that it’s affecting her so. That can be worked out later. She wants him now.

Haurchefant tosses her belt aside and pushes the robe open and off of her. It lays gathered their feet along with his cape. “Give me a moment, love. I’ll have this armor gone.”

“Don’t bother.” Nerys slides her hands to his belt, finding familiar straps and catches. Armor is armor, most of the time. She’s well-acquainted with removing certain pieces for a fuck after a battle. To her disappointment, he does remove the gauntlets but leaves the rest. In the moment he promised, she frees his cock.

“The bed.” He says, voice urgent. Punctuating it with a harsh, brief kiss. “Go lie down.”

“My lord.” She rushes to cross the room. He is like a shadow, just behind her by a step as she moves. Watches her lay down for him. When he adjusts her–draping her legs over the side of the bed and sliding a pillow beneath her–she is breathless. 

Haurchefant is often bossy with her in bed. Including one memorable afternoon in Ala Mhigo, when he tied her to the cot and ordered her to be quiet. (Tent walls are thin, after all). What drives him now is as fierce as she has ever seen, a consuming hunger that rages just below the surface. 

Nerys swallows, throat still unbelievably dry. Water will wait till after. Everything can wait till after. Her tongue grazes her cracked lips. “I missed you.”

“You…” He plants his hands on either side of her, his greaves grazing her shins. “I wished for your arrival as often as I dreaded it. I wanted to see you and yet, I did not want to drag you across worlds for another conflict.”

Haurchefant shifts his balance to one arm–the non-dominant hand–and slips his fingers between her legs. She has no idea if the scars from the Vault transferred to this body, though she sees the telltale signs of fatigue. The pain must still-

Nerys sighs as he spreads her folds, two fingers easing into her. “You know...I would cross all rifts to find you.”

“I know.” His lips brush her forehead. “And I know you will face whatever comes and win, as you always do. Even so, would that I could grant you a reprieve.”

“This,” she says, spreading her legs wider. “This is respite. This is what I need.”

He creates such need in her, an ache that demands satisfaction. Especially with the intent look in his eyes, the passion trembling just below the surface. The kind of intense, overwhelming desire that keeps her awake at night until she reaches for her toys. 

His touch is direct and purposeful. All the right movements, the right pressure–he remembers it all. Nerys tilts her head back, eyes closing as she sinks into the feel of it. The building in her. A slight cramp forms in her left calf and she lifts that foot to rest on the bed, rocking in motion with his fingers.

It’s there. It’s right there. She just needs to push further in that direction and he’ll have her in pieces.

“Haurchefant.” Nerys lifts her head. “I need you.”

It is as much for him as it for her–he is tense with the force of holding back his passion. Relief crosses his noble brow and he nods, slipping his fingers out of her. The sight of his tongue tasting the slick on them sends a new flutter through her. 

“At your service,” he murmurs, wrapping a hand around himself. He takes a moment to find the notch before pressing in, slow at first and then all at once. The angle is...she shifts herself until it feels right, sighing. Draws her other foot up. Turns out her hip more so her bent outer thigh touches the mattress. Better, but... 

Still as a cat, he looks down at her. Holding himself in place, unwilling to move though the need in his cerulean gaze is almost painful. “Is this alright?”

Nerys nods. “This is alright. I’m alright. Let me…”

She lifts both feet, resting her ankles on his shoulders before extending her legs. She is tall but so is he, not much further to go. Much better. This is a position she knows and one she always likes. Especially with him in armor like this, fierce and strong and overpowering. 

“Go on,” she urges, rocking against him. "Please."

He requires no further coaxing and begins moving inside her. Nerys grips at the sheets, sliding her hips in tandem with him. There. Right there. If he just drives at that spot...

Even his finger on her clit can't distract from the returning cramp. She flexes her foot a few times, annoyed with herself. She has him back and he is a magnificent, golden knight before her; and her body creates obstacles. The growing cottony feel of the inside of her mouth. The warnings of a headache along the too-tight muscles at her nape and temple. 

Nerys bats these annoyances out of her brain and sets her focus to him. The thick, hot length of him sliding into her. The gentle and insistent pressure of his thumb. The blazing blue of his eyes as he looks at her like she is a precious treasure. 

It's there. She can see the edge of relief. 

She can also feel her body refusing to move past this stage, the artful touch at her clit moving from delightful to numbing. 

"A moment," Nerys gasps. "Sorry, can we…"

"Anything. Anything." His voice is a near growl in contrast to his words. He seems liable to fall apart at any moment.

"Just-fuck me right now, no hands," she says. Sometimes the nub needs a brief reprieve before she can come. 

The hand at her clit disappears, splays instead on the bed beside her head. His hips snap back into motion and she gasps at the jolt of it. 

Twelve. She is slick and needy and has wanted this for weeks now. The feel of his heavy cock. The utter surrender to him, a man who owns her soul and heart and-

"Shit!" The cramp blossoms at once into a throbbing, consuming pain. Too much to ignore. "Sorry, sorry, it's not you, my leg-"

Haurchefant trembles above her, leashing his desire. It takes him some time to speak. "Per...perhaps a different position? And I'll remove the armor."

With other men, this is the point she would have carried on and faked her climax. But he would not thank her for such deception. Too empathetic by half, too much of a gentleman. 

"Just...put my legs down and finish in me." She says at last, frustration prickling at her eyes and throat. This is their reunion and she can't even-

"My heart." Reverent, gentle, he slides her legs back down. His breath is so ragged. "I can-"

"Please." She adjusts herself against him. "Let me do this for you? You're trembling."

He sighs. There is a faint shudder as he holds himself back. "I am not so green I can't control myself."

"I know. But I'm saying you don't have to." Nerys tightens around him. "Come for me, please."

Haurchefant shudders as her inner walls clench around him, stuttering out a breathy moan. One nod, then he moves in her again. The leg has a brief spasm and for a moment she fears it will be too much-

And then he slides deep into her, shuddering and filling her and gripping the blanket by her head so tight he might rip it. The feel of him falling apart re-kindles some of the heat in her. It is not satisfaction but it is nice, seeing him like this. 

Haurchefant kisses her, a mindless, fierce claiming of her mouth. She groans as he stutters inside her with the aftershocks.

"Nerys, dearest…" He whispers like a prayer. The tone and the care in that settles her. The love in his eyes settles her. 

The armor does come off. Another time, they’ll figure that out. It was...well it isn’t funny that she’s had sex when both parties were armored but this was beyond them. But it’s a cousin of humor, at least.

And at least she can smile. Keyed up as she is, it is a blessing to feel some contentment about the whole thing. And Haurchefant is gentle as he cleans her up, warm hands soothing over her until she relaxes. Carefully kneading at the interfering calf.

They lie naked in the cool, crisp sheets. Skin against skin, calmer now. Haurchefant slides a hand through her hair. "By the by; I should have said this, the moment I saw you. You look utterly beautiful with this new cut."

Warmth flares in her cheeks and chest. "You like it?"

"Mm. Exceptionally pretty." He kisses the tip of her nose. "Somehow you are the Most Beautiful Lily in Ishgard no matter what you do with it. As well as other countries and worlds, naturally."

"Oh now you're just exaggerating." She kisses his shoulder. Her stomach chooses then to growl, loud and angry.

"...beloved," says Haurchefant, brow creasing. "When last did you eat?"

"Far too long ago," she admits. "I was going to eat and drink but...well, you put your hands on me and that was that."

He sighs and sits up. "I even cut up fruit for you before I became a distraction. Come, let's take care of you."

Nerys slides her arms around him. "I like the sound of that. Do you have to leave the Crystarium again any time soon?"

Haurchefant smiles, eyes a little sad at the notion. “Likely. Let us make the most of this time, ere we must part again.”

“I can do that.” She relaxes in his grip, curling up against his warmth. For the first time that long, interminable day: peace settles upon her.

[sheusedtobesassier]

Day 10,724

Drinking from ugly pink beer cans. So ugly that I poured what was left of the last one into a Wonder Woman glass because I’ve got such a low tolerance for unpretty. Jayden shattered one from this set several weeks ago and I wasn’t mad. Like, loving people is them breaking your shit and feeling like, “Well at least I have somebody I love around.”

It was the right time in my life to finally watch Company, except now that I’m writing that thought out I have to admit that hey it’s BEEN THAT TIME FOR YEARS  AND YEARS NOW. Like hasn’t it always been the right time in my life? Mm. Occasionally thinking of Austin asking me, “Well have you tried very hard to be married?” What a question. I mean, I wouldn’t call it a good one but it’s certainly one I cannot quit wondering about a way to answer it. Ponder, ponder. I guess because maybe I haven’t tried very hard? But? What does trying very hard even look like?

I have a crush on someone new. A back and forth on Hinge that’s stretched throughout the last nine days. I’m trying to keep it reasonable in my head because we have not met and probably will not. Because of the way I am. But. Idk. There are butterflies. I want something to come of it. Yesterday some insecurity set in. The likelihood that he’s carrying on interesting conversations with women who are more beautiful than I am. Women who are more attainable. Less narcissistic. Which. That’s like 99% possible. Come on now. But I’m holding out for a 1% surprise. Because I think this person is something Extremely Rare. And we know I cannot resist something that’s unlike anything else I’ve got going on. A collector of what I haven’t come across before. A fondness for unordinary.

I confessed the other day that this is not a person that I feel like: wow we are the same!!!! There is definitely contrast. This past decade of his life is VERY DIFFERENT than my own. But. Idk. Haha. The way he is expressing himself is remarkable. Clearheaded and kind and pretty unflinching. I am impressed and I am startled. His profile states that his mantra is, “If you can think it, you can ask it.” And. I’ve hesitated to take that challenge but he’s assured me he means it. Idk. The conversation feels increasingly intimate to me but that doesn’t mean it does to him. I am getting bolder and bolder with my inquiries, but then also he’s calmly mentioned personal things I wasn’t even asking about. Who knows. Not me. I’ll say it again because perhaps I don’t say this sort of thing to the universe enough: I WANT SOMETHING TO COME OF IT.

I’m steady reading Little Weirds by Jenny Slate and wowwww. It’s the right thing for me to be reading right now. Like. Haha. Like I guess I really need a best friend to be here with me and until I finish it, this book is that. Crawling inside her fucked up internal narrative is dizzying in like a childlike way. Delectable. I think that was someone else’s word for it. So accurate.

I don’t know. I think I won’t write for too much longer because I think I’m on the verge of working myself into a sadness. I’ve been here like two months and uh. How would I describe it? I’m lulled into a sense of “everything will be okay from now on” and when I say lulled I don’t mean tricked. I mean it’s easy to take it easy here. To drink a lot of water and hardly eat anything and listen to a lot of slow country songs and to drive back and forth to the same few places and to water my plants on Sundays and light the candles when it gets dark and notice sweetness and let people’s perceptions of me be incredibly uncomplicated. Yeah. Maybe that’s what I would say. I go unperceived here, except I guess that sounds sadder than it is. I’m perceived favorably. But uh, I guess hm, I guess I’m nobody’s north star. Nobody gets that genuinely excited about me. But like, again, not in an upsetting way. I’m not more special than anybody else around and everybody around treats each other well. For the most part. Yeah. Idk. There’s been a handful of times where a part of me pretty suddenly comes to center stage in my thoughts and is like, “HEY YOU’RE HIDING YOURSELF AWAY.” or “THIS WON’T LAST MUCH LONGER.” or like um, “IF YOU TOOK THE TIME TO THINK ABOUT IT YOU’D REALIZE HOW FUCKED YOU ACTUALLY ARE.” But. I don’t engage with those. Like seriously when they pop up I fully balk and turn off all the spotlights. I do not lean in. I do not wander further in that direction. I roll my windows down and turn the song playing up a little louder. I seek the lull. Yeah, I’m all lull this summer.

I’ve retreated from the burden of leading a wildly interesting life. I don’t know if it’s a good thing but it certainly feels like it is. It’s been a long lasting war and I’ve won plenty of battles and for now have no interest in victory. The breeze is too good. I’ve got little humans to bestow my affection on anytime I feel the urge. OMG WE HAVE A DOG THAT IS THE MILDEST TEMPERAMENT YOU CAN POSSIBLY IMAGINE. A brother who treats me more gently than he treats most things. A sister who makes basically everything about living seem SO MUCH simpler than I’ve ever allowed it to be.

I’m well. Nobody is asking me what I’m thinking about and tbh if someone did I wouldn’t have much to fess up. I’m thinking as little as possible. “The world is quiet here.”

[lillupon]

So, I've got a very long rant/opinion here and Idk really know how to say this without coming off kinda bad but I'm gonna say it anyways. I agree with the fact that the seventeen tag has been kinda dry lately on most fanfic places, but it's really only in the smut area. It's the sane way with other groups too I feel like. All of the nice little innocent tags are boomin to this day and thats completely fine. I think the smut tag is dry tho bc lately I feel like a few social issues (like sexualizing people and disrespecting them and their identity) have crossed over into kpop and have been ?blown out of proportion? Lately there's been a rampage of people who like to say that writing smut about someone is disgusting and is dehumanizing because people want to assume that it would make the idols uncomfortable which could equate to some morality issues on how you are reducing someone only to their body without their consent and a bunch of stuff like that. It kind of pisses me off bc this is fiction. About grown adults. Clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life. I think a shit ton is wrong with the world we currently live in, and deciding to come after something that isn't even real bothers me. Like what does that actually accomplish. But yeah, I think thats a reason why smut has been dying down. I mean, on youtube almost every video about unpopular opinions, or things they dont like about kpop will include something about shipping idols in fanfics. And then everyone in the comment section will talk about how its all fine and dandy in moderation, but once people start writing smut it's crossing the idols personal boundaries. It's something I've been seeing a lot more often and I think people who are interested in writing smut are being turned away from it bc we've gotten to a point where people are being called disgusting for having fantasies.

Hi Anon, thank you for sending in this Ask. 

I want to preface this by saying: when I write or talk about Mingyu and Wonwoo fucking on my blog, it is a fantasy. I am not speculating about what the real Mingyu and Wonwoo might be like in bed. I am imagining the versions of Mingyu and Wonwoo that I have created in my head, that exist only in my stories. None of it is real. I understand that this can be a blurry boundary for some people. But for me, the separation between fantasy and reality is well-defined. Now, on to your Ask!

You’ve hit the nail on the head with this one. You’ve also touched on many of the issues I have been struggling with myself as of late. It’s difficult to argue about morals since everyone has a different set of values, as well as different comfort levels. Some people think real person fiction (RPF) is a gross invasion of privacy. Others are fine with it. And others don’t care one way or another. There is no single answer; I can only offer my answer. Which means, of course, people are welcome to disagree with it, or parts of it. 

In this essay (LOL But forreal: this is an essay), I will be sharing my experience in the k-pop fanfic community from 2014 to present, the etiquette I personally abide by as a reader and writer of RPF, as well as my stance on RPF in general.

I started reading and posting fanfics back in 2014/2015 on a website called AsianFanfics (AFF). Obviously, no one on that site had a problem with RPF, since AFF is a platform made specifically for sharing stories about Asian celebrities. For many years, I read and enjoyed RPF with zero guilt. I scribbled away by myself in my own corner of fandom and curated my own content. I didn’t interact much with other fans, readers, or writers. I didn’t have a Twitter, and I only used tumblr to reblog memes. As a result, I’ve been able to avoid a lot of anti-shipping discourse, as well as purity and cancel culture. I had no idea there were so many negative opinions about RPF. It wasn’t until I became active on the subreddit r/Fanfiction last year that I learned about all the discourse surrounding RPF. 

This newfound ‘awareness’ does make me feel guilty at times—but only because after mulling this over, I still don’t think this is something to feel guilty about.

Here’s what I remember, first and foremost, when I create and consume RPF: fanfics and my favourite ships are fictional, and fiction is fantasy. This is basic etiquette when it comes to RPF, and most people in the k-pop fandom understand this. Delusional fans exist, of course, but they are not representative of the entire k-pop community. 

Another point of etiquette is to keep fanfics within fandom spaces. I would never push my fics into celebrities’ faces, or go around claiming that my fanfics are accurate representations of a k-idol’s life or personality, in any way, shape, or form. I would also discourage directing ship-related questions to official accounts, or bringing them up during fansigns or other face-to-face interactions; I believe that in these instances, shipping does have the potential to strain real-life relationships.

So with basic etiquette out of the way, let me share my approach to RPF in general.

As much as we like to think we know our favourite celebrities, we really don’t. All we see is their public persona. And this public persona is intentionally controlled, managed, and curated by a team of people: directors, tabloids, editors, makeup artists, publicists, etc. How “real” are these celebrities? We are so distanced from them that they may as well be fictional.

I draw from the public persona that idols project, and I work them into my own writing. But at the end of the day, these personalities are my own interpretation. My interpretation is probably nothing like an idol’s actual personality. I just use the “public persona/character” that idols portray as inspiration for my own stories, which are set in wildly different universes.

More than anything, I think of k-pop idols as “actors” in my fic. You know how when you write an original novel, you scroll through Google images, looking for the perfect person to portray your original character? RPF is literally that, except you might build upon pre-existing dynamics and personalities.

When it comes to explicit fanfiction, two main concerns are prevalent: one of consent, and one of sexualisation.

If we argue against explicit RPF due to lack of consent, we should be willing to apply the same lens to all explicit works. How do we know that the creator of a movie, book, series, etc., is okay with us using their characters in our stories, explicit or not? We don’t. Perhaps some creators encourage fanfiction, but don’t want their lovingly crafted characters engaging in sexual acts or experiencing trauma. We just don’t know. I feel this line is even more blurred when we talk about characters from movies or TV series.

Let’s take Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, as portrayed by Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan, from the Captain America movies as an example. I am willing to bet that when people consume and create explicit fanfiction about Steve and Bucky, they are imagining Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan in their heads. I doubt many people are imagining the 2D cartoon versions of Steve and Bucky, even though they’re technically the exact same characters. Why? Well, it could be because movies are more readily and easily consumed than comics, and so people are unfamiliar with comic book Steve and Bucky. But it might also be because fans find Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan attractive. Is this really any different from RPF, where fic authors make up everything about a celebrity’s life?  

When readers and writers of fanfic talk about how hot Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes is, those comments are about Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan’s bodies. When reading explicit stories, fans are going to picture Chris and Sebastian’s bodies in their head, doing sexual things. Can we say, “Well, it’s not really you, Chris/Sebastian”, when in a way, it is?

The reality is, people are going to thirst over celebrities, regardless of whether or not explicit fanfiction exists. They’re going to post thirst tweets on Twitter. They’re going to talk to friends and strangers online about how hot [insert celebrity name here] is. They’re going to fantasize about dating and having sex with their favourite celebrity. Or, as it is in my case, they’re going to make up stories in their heads about their favourite idols dating and banging each other. People are going to do all of this without ‘getting consent’ from the celebrity. Cracking down upon and shaming writers of RPF isn’t going to change any of that.

To be honest, I’m not sure why people think it is disgusting to imagine sexual scenarios about real people. It is okay and normal to have these kinds of fantasies. I suppose the alternative is to fantasise about having sex with cartoon characters instead? It’s a very binary way of thinking to say that if you imagine/write real people in explicit scenarios, you are immediately sexualising, dehumanising, or objectifying them. There is more to dehumanisation than writing smut about our favourite celebrities. For one thing, you can love someone and appreciate all parts of them, and still want to fuck their brains out. And generally, fanfics come from a place of love—love that is not only sexual in nature.

Is it the sharing aspect inherent to fanfiction? The possibility that a celebrity might stumble upon explicit works about them? The chances are very low, I think, of the k-pop idols I enjoy writing about coming across my English fics. But I also believe in curating your own content, and that applies to celebrities too. Perhaps a celebrity should not go searching for fanfics about themselves. And of course, people should not show celebrities their fanfics, unless invited.

Another argument I hear against (explicit) RPF is, “How would you feel if someone wrote fanfiction about you?” First off, I don’t like this argument because there’s a difference between someone who decides to be a public figure versus someone who decides to remain a regular private citizen. Celebrities should and do know what they’re getting into when they choose their occupation. (This is not to say, “They are celebrities; sexualise them all you want because that’s what they signed up for.” Here, I am only acknowledging that people might have sexual fantasies about celebrities they are attracted to. Presumably, celebrities are cognizant of this.)  

If someone (whose existence I am not even aware of, mind you) decides they want to write explicit fanfiction of me in some tiny corner of the Internet, I wouldn’t care so long as: (1) they don’t shove it into my face, and (2) they don’t harass me and ask invasive questions about my personal life and relationships. It’s not hurting me or negatively affecting my life, so it wouldn’t even register as a blip on my radar. When fanfiction remains within its appropriate spaces, it is largely harmless. 

Now, if a k-pop idol were to ask their fans to stop writing fanfiction about them, would I? Yes, I would. However, I can’t imagine that happening. Judging by the number of ‘sexy’ concepts, fanservice moments, and variety shows such as ‘We Got Married’, I am certain that k-pop idols realise they are the stars of many fantasies—some of which are explicit in nature. Considering the prevalence of shipping in the k-pop industry, I would argue that shipping is subtly encouraged.

It’s sad that so many talented writers are shamed out of fandom, or feel that k-pop cannot be the medium through which they tell their stories, or explore their sexuality, or cope with trauma, or simply have fun. Professional works and Hollywood love their RPF—readers and writers of fanfics should be able to, as well. 

As you said Anon, “clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life” (this is a lovely sentence, by the way). The kind of person who dehumanises another and reduces them to a sexual object will do so some other way, if not via fanfiction. I don’t think the issue of fetishisation can be fixed simply by telling people not to write explicit RPF. In my experience, people who read and write RPF are more respectful and thoughtful about these things than the general public. We’ve all seen the general public say highly sexual things about celebrities in the media and to their faces, or tag celebrities in their thirst tweets. Are these things less invasive than fanfiction? Personally, I don’t think so. And in my opinion, there are more pressing and damaging issues in stan culture than fanfic.

In conclusion, I don’t think there is anything wrong with creating and consuming RPF, both explicit and non-explicit so long as we:

Remember we are writing fiction

Keep RPF within its appropriate space, and

Do not harass celebrities about their personal lives and relationships

RPF is not for everyone. There may be people who enjoy RPF, but draw the line at explicit stories. This is fine. Everyone has their own personal preferences. What is not fine, however, is attacking people for creating things you don’t like. I’m not sure what kind of moral crusade people are on and what they hope to achieve by shaming writers of RPF, explicit or otherwise. Ultimately, fic authors are writing a fantasy. It’s not real; no one is being hurt. I think it’s important for people to curate their own content, and AO3 makes it very easy to filter out explicit works and unwanted tags. 

Maybe this is me trying to justify my own participation in explicit RPF—I don’t know. What I do know is that I love k-pop, and fandom is an important part of my media and entertainment experience. I adore the k-pop idols I write about, and I just want to imagine them being happy and getting lots of love and orgasms. Let a bitch be horny, goddamn… 

Some bonus fun facts!

At the time I am writing this, on AO3:

26.2% of Stray Kids fanfics are rated M or E

26.3% of Seventeen fanfics are rated M or E

29.0% of Merlin fanfics are rated M or E

34.9% of Captain America (Movies) fanfics are rated M or E

40.1% of BTS fanfics are rated M or E ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Coincidentally, I saw this post on Reddit this morning: Can we have a RPF positivity post?

[avatarmerida]

Pros and Cons

Set between the movie and the start of Future because you can’t convince me these kids weren’t dating the whole time and we deserve to see more schmaltz from Steven. Wrote this on mobile, so I’ll fix all spelling and formatting things later. Enjoy!

——————————————————————

“Connie, Steven is here!” Called Dr. Maheswaran to her daughter, who hardly needed to be told since she was already bolting down the stairs at full speed.

“Bye mom!” Called the girl as she rushed passed her out the door.

“Be back by 10!” Her mother called after in a stern voice, though small smile found its way onto her face as she slowly closed the door, happy to see Connie so happy.

“Hey Connie!” Exclaimed Steven, grinning ear to ear once she entered his sight.

“Steven!” She sang as she ran to him, leaping to tackle him with a big hug. Steven returned the embrace and the pair laughed. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

It had only been a few days. “I got you something,” he said, presenting a bouquet of flowers to her. A collection a vivid blue flowers, tied together with a matching bow, everything carefully selected and presented to be picture perfect.

“Aw Steven!” She swooned, taking the flowers from him and bringing them to her nose, the smell light and sweet. “Oh, they’re so beautiful! Thank you.”

She leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on his cheek before hopping in the passenger seat. Steven blushed wildly, and ran behind the car to his seat so Connie wouldn’t see. She had been doing that a lot more lately, not that he minded. It was often enough that it didn’t catch him totally off guard but rare enough that he still wasn’t quite used to it. Pro.

He jumped in the driver’s seat and snuck a quick look at her as she continued to fawn over the flowers. She was wearing her favorite blue dress and Steven couldn’t help but thank she looked like an angel. She carefully undid the ribbon from the bouquet and used it to tie up her hair and the simple act made Steven’s heart spin. Pro.

Truthfully, that feeling was nothing new. Connie had always made him feel this way, but lately there was something different. Every time she touched him he felt light headed. He suddenly noticed they touched so much. She’d rest her head on his shoulder when they watched movies together or they’d hold hands when they took walks, but now he felt himself hesitate to do the things that were once so second nature. Yet somehow, that made him want to do then even more. Pro.

“Um Steven?” Asked Connie and his daze broke, and he realized he had been staring at her in silence.

“Oh uh, right,” he laughed awkwardly, starting the car. Connie didn’t seem to notice his nerves and started playing with the radio as they began to make their way to Beach City.

“- oh it was so hard not stopping the instructor every five minutes,” said Connie, finishing her story. “I mean, he was only focused on this solar system, he wouldn’t even listen when I tried describing Homeworld! Sure, Jupiter is cool but I think a society of gems is much cooler.”

“I think have to agree,” laughed Steven. “But other than that, space camp was fun?”

“Of course,” she said. “I wish I could’ve spent more time with you though. Next time you should come, you could probably teach the class!”

“I’ll think about it,” he sighed, fighting the urge to stare at her again, knowing he had to keep his eyes on the road. She continued talking about space camp, though most of it he had already heard on the phone, but he just enjoyed hearing her voice. Pro.

He suddenly longed for the day when they would sit on the beach and she’d read aloud to him, nothing else to do and not a care in the world. Just the two of them. But of course they both had other responsibilities now, but that only made Steven think of the future more. He was never shy when it came to telling Connie how much she meant to him, but tonight he wanted to add something more. In his jacket pocket he had a list or pros and cons which confirmed his decision to ask (even though the pros side was mostly just tiny things her loved about Connie). His dad said it was ‘taking the next step’ and Steven kind of agreed. It did feel like a big step but at the same time, a natural one. But if marathoning Camp Pining Hearts with Peridot has taught him anything, it was that big feelings required a big gesture.

Finally, they reached Temple. Steven made sure his parking job was perfect (parallel parking even though it wasn’t necessary but Connie found it impressive) and then frantically ran around the side to open Connie’s door for her.

“After you, my lady,” he said in a mock fancy tone, offering her his arm.

“Why thank you, my lord,” she responded in the same tone, taking it and the two made their way down the beach “And where shall we be dining tonight?”

“Why, only the finest eating establishment of course,” He said and then ran ahead to present the setting to her. “Ta-da!”

“Steven...” murmured Connie with wide eyes as she took in his creation. He had brought out a simple folding table and with a long tablecloth and a few lanterns, he had transformed the beach into something from a fairy tale. Around the table, four poles displayed twinkling lights and glowing bracelets, like the one that had brought them together. It was like their own personal fallen star, a tiny spotlight on a calm night. Lion sat close by, fast asleep which somehow just added to the lore.

“Oh wow this is amazing,” she whispered as she marveled at the details. “This must’ve taken you all day!”

It had. “Oh, it’s no big deal,” he blushed, pulling out her chair. She sat down and continued to look astound, utterly enchanted.

“But wait! It get better!” He said as he excitedly leaned over the table to present the pizza box the gems had set out minutes before they arrived. Steven said they couldn’t watch but they wanted to be knocked anyway they could. “Ta-da!”

“Pizza, very classy,” said Connie with her fancy tone, though pizza was kind of a let down after the lighting display.

“Notice anything weird about the cheese?”

“What do you-?” Connie questioned as she looked closer, and sure enough she did. She reached inside and hidden amidst the cheese was a yellow envelope. “Steven, what is this?” She laughed.

“Why don’t you open it and find out?” He beamed.

She did and once she did her face lit up lighter than the candles on the table. She looked up at him with utter disbelief. “These aren’t-.”

He nodded, trying to keep his cool. “They are!”

“Tickets to the new Unfamiliar Familiar Movie?” She said still in shook as she read them small pieces of paper. “They sold out weeks ago! How did you get these?”

“I was the first in line to get them,” he said as if it were no big deal and he hadn’t camped outside the theater for hours. Then he admitted somewhat sheepishly. “I didn’t realize you could buy tickets online, but I knew how much it meant to you so I-.”

“Aw, you’re the best!” As she ran around the table to wrap him in a tight hug.

“Nah, you’re the best,” he blushed, luckily it was dark enough that Connie probably couldn’t see. “Lion can take us after we eat. Have any theories about how this one will be different than the books?”

“Ugh, so many!” She said as she sat back down. The two sat and ate their pizza as Connie discussed her theories. Steven, of course, was hoping they’d make sure the wedding cake was as accurate as possible which made Connie laugh which made his heart jump. Pro.

“Wow Steven, I just can’t get over how great this is,” sighed Connie, placing one of her hands on his.

“Well, you’re worth it,” he said, resting his chin on his other hand as he looked at her. “I really wanted to make sure tonight was special.”

“Why?”

“Why? Uh...” this wasn’t supposed to be when he asked, he had it mapped out so perfectly. “Because, well, with school starting back up soon you’ll be so busy studying and I just wanted to make sure that any time we spend together is extra special.”

Now it was Connie’s turn to blush. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and gave him a sweet smile. “Time with my jam bud is always special,” she said, tilting her head. “Wow, just wait until I tell the girls from camp about this. I told them all about you and Beach City and they all kept telling me how jealous they were of my magical boyfriend. If they saw this they’d-.”

His heart leapt at the word. “B-boyfriend?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, they would sometimes call you my boyfriend,” she said as her blush got bigger, trying to make the word seem like less of a big deal. “It was just teasing, no big deal. Nothing, I mean I didn’t-.”

“Did you correct them?” He asked sheepishly, hoping for a certain answer.

“Um, at first,” she admitted, averting her eyes from his. “But most of the time they called you ‘Steven’ so I didn’t need to to. I mean, it didn’t bother me when they called you my boyfriend. I mean, when you break down the components of the word-.”

“Connie it’s fine!” He cut her off with a laugh. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, I mean actually...” he began to reach under the table to where the final part of the plan was carefully hidden: a box of donuts from The Big Donut in Connie’s favorite flavor with a customized design, one read “By My” and the other “Girlfriend?” Steven knew it was cliche and cheesy but Sadie assured him it was really adorable. “There’s actually something I wanted to tell you... or ask you? Okay, wait, there are two things-.”

“Steven do you feel that?”

“Well, even since-.”

“Steven, I think it’s starting to rain...”

“What? No, Garnet said...”

But sure enough, a roll of thunder cut him off and the rain came shortly after in buckets. Con.

“Oh no, all your work,” said Connie frantically, not worried about herself getting wet. “Steven, the lanterns!”

“It’s okay,” he insisted conjuring a shield to protect them from the rain. “Let’s just grab the tickets and Lion can teleport us to the theater.”

“Okay,” said Connie, reaching down to grab the, only to find they weren’t where she thought she had left them. “Wait, where are they?”

“They should be right by the centerpiece,” answered Steven as the rain came down harder. “Are they by-.” his eyes darted between the empty space on the table and Lion at the table’s edge and suddenly he realized what had happened.  He dropped the shield and went to pry open Lion’s mouth. “NO!”

“What?”

“He ate them!” he exclaimed not finding anything between his teeth, confirming his fear.

“Oh no!” said Connie, though it was hard to see with the rain coming down so hard. “Well, do you still have the receipt? Maybe we can try-.”

Con. Somehow knowing he was no longer needed, Lion turned and ran away from the pair. “No, wait!” pleaded Steven, looking back and forth between where Lion was running to, Connie was standing in the rain, and then he remembered the donuts getting soggy. This was no how this evening was supposed to go at all. Steven’s mind raced for a way to fix it but nothing came to mind, everything started getting blurry but he needed to focus on Connie. He needed to-

“Connie, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, rushing over to her and suddenly the rain was o longer dousing them. He looked up, confused, and saw that he had summoned a bubble without realizing it. Luckily they were safe from the rain now, but still soaking wet. “Ugh, Connie I’m so sorry.” he said again.

“Why? Because it rained?” she laughed, wringing her hair out. “Steven, you can’t blame yourself for the weather.”

“No, I’m sorry for this whole night; it was a disaster,” he admitted as he sat down, defeated. “I was just really nervous and excited and I wanted everything to be perfect.”

Con.

“As long as we’re together, it is,” she insisted, sitting beside him. “Remember the last time we were trapped in a bubble? We still had fun. We can still have fun now. Look, the rain’s starting to let up.”

Steven turned and saw she was right, it was no longer down pouring and had downgraded to a faint drizzle. Pro.

“Oh, the beach is so pretty at night,” Connie whispered as the moon appeared from behind the clouds, reflecting majestically on the water.

“Yeah, it is,” Steven agreed, though he wasn’t looking at the moon. “Hold on, I have an idea.” He stood up and summoned a great amount of foucused, jumped up and hit the top of the bubble. He was stuck only a moment but soon the bubble rose with him and the pair were floating up into the sky. The hovered toward the water until the had a fantastic view of the beach and the whole town.

“Wow,” said Connie breathlessly, taking in the view. “Steven this is amazing!”

He shrugged and sat back down beside her. “I mean, I guess. I just wish I hadn’t left the snacks on the beach.”

“The candles might be helpful too,” added Connie with a shiver. “For an airtight bubble, it’s pretty chilly in here.”

Con.

Of course she’s cold, Steven thought, she’s still wet from the rain! “Here,” he said as he removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. “Better?”

She nodded, her eyes wide at the noble gesture she had seen countless times in books and movies. He did it without hesitation or flair and her own heart spun. He sighed as he looked to the ground, still upset that things hadn’t gone according to plan. But as far as Connie was concerned, this was better than anything he could’ve planned. She couldn’t help but smile as this moments brought back memories, Steven planning things as best he could only for some magical element to derail things. Every moment, no matter how small, was an adventure. Even just sitting there taking in the view, that was something only Steven could deliver. Pro.

She rested her head on his shoulder, half to reassure him that she was fine being there and half because it was such a natural action at this point. He relaxed a little and allowed his head to rest on hers as he truly started to appreciate the view. Pro. Pro. Pro.

“It’s not as good as the movies, but I guess it’s okay,” said Steven with a laugh, his positive attitude returning.

“Steven, it’s okay,” Connie laughed gently, looking up at him. “Really, it is. We can see the movie another time, or rent it later on. And Lion’s eaten worse things than paper, he’ll be okay.”

“Ugh! Of course he ate the tickets! They were covered in cheese,” Steven sulked at the memory, burying his face in his hands. “Can’t say I blame him.”

Connie laughed. “But... why did you put them in the pizza?” She asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

“I thought it’d be... romantic,” he admitted, hiding his face in defeat.

“‘Romantic?’” Connie repeated, half surprised and half flustered at the mention of the word.

“Pretty silly right?”

“No, not at all,” she said with a small chuckle. “It... it was kind of romantic.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “But um, why did you want it to be romantic?”

“Well I was going to ask you... I mean, I was going to tell you...” he turned and saw how close her face was to his, her large eyes reflected the moonlight and the sight made his ears hot and his throat tight. He cleared his throat, trying to summon some courage and took a long, deep breath in and closed his eyes. “ConnieIwaswonderingifyoumaybewantedtobemygirlfrienditsokayifyousayno.” He said as fast as he could.

“What?” Asked a bewildered Connie. Before any further explanation could be offered, the bubble popped and the two found themselves hurting towards the ground. Steven quickly grabbed Connie’s hand and pulled her close as he controlled their descent and had them land safely.

Safe on the beach, the pair stood in a loose embrace as Steven searched his mind for what to say next. He didn’t know if should ask again, he wasn’t even sure Connie had heard him the first time. Or maybe she had? And she was looking for a way to let him down gently? Maybe she-.

“Lion, stop!” He suddenly heard her laugh as he snapped back from his dreamlike state. He looked and saw the creature licking Connie’s face, happy to see her. Steven smiled and reached out to pet him.

“Hey there buddy,” he laughed. “Where did you go? Usually you’re in bed by- oh no! Connie! What time is it?”

She pulled her phone from her pocket and gasped at what she saw. “It’s 9:57!”

“Your curfew!” Exclaimed Steven grabbing her hand. Con. “C’mon, we gotta get you home!” The pair hopped onto Lion’s back who knew exactly where to take them. They traveled through the portal and landed outside Connie’s house and instantly jumped off and headed to her front door, both panting from the mission’s urgency.

“We made it!” Breathed Steven victoriously.

“Yeah,” agreed Connie. “That was close.”

The two stood on the porch in silence for a moment, a very familar feeling in the air. “Steven, I-,” Connie began, only to once again be interrupted. This time by the opening of the door.

“9:59,” said Connie’s mom, looking at her watch. “Just in time, can’t tell if you’re pushing it or punctual. Either way, you’ve got tennis tomorrow so upstairs young lady.”

“Okay mom,” said Connie, entering the house. She offered Steven a small wave and her mother closed the store.

“Have a good night, Steven,” said Dr. Maheswaran as she gently closed the door, her voice stern but caring. “See you soon.”

“See ya soon,” Steven sighed as he looked at the closed door. He was worried he had blown his chance or if this was a sign they weren’t mean to be. So nothing changes, he thought as he walked back to Lion, so what? So we’re still friends, still jam buds, we can still be Stevonnie. She’s still in my life, that’s what matters. These were all true, but his heart still felt a twinge defeat and long list of cons.

Then, he felt his phone vibrate and the quiet air was filled with Connie’s ringtone. He couldn’t help but feel nervous as he answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“You forgot your jacket,” said Connie in a whisper.

“Where-?” He turned around and say Connie at her bedroom window, waving it like a pink flag.

“It’s fine, you can keep it for now,”

“Steven Cutiepie Quartz Universe, I gave you this jacket are you trying to regift it?” She said in a faux stern voice. “That’s very rude. I insist you come retrieve it right this instant.”

“Um, I’m pretty sure your mom is very strict about her 10 o’clock curfew, no exceptions.”

“You don’t need to go through the house, you have floating powers, silly.”

He couldn’t argue with that, so he quietly made his way to the side of the house and floated up to her open window.

“Pickup for ‘Universe’” he said, placing his elbow on the window ledge, casually. Connie laughed.

“Here’s your order sir,” she said handing him the folded jacket, but when he went to take it from her she didn’t let go. He looked up at her, expecting another joke but instead he found her face inches from his, filled with the same gentle moonlight from before.

“Yes,” was all she said.

“Y-yes?”

“Yes,” she repeated, and pulled the jacket back toward her and thereby also pulled Steven. As he went forward, she moved her face in front of his and their lips met in a kiss. At first, Steven was surprised but Connie was unmoving until he finally accepted it was real and placed his hands on her back to steady himself and hold her. He felt her smile as she moved one of her hands behind his head, the other still held the jacket, and brought him closer.

He felt like he was melting and freezing at the same time and he knew his entire face must be blushing but he didn’t care. He swore they were like this for hours but at the same time it was like no time had passed at all, like they were outside the world. When they finally parted, it was only because Steven found his body was floating upward. Connie giggled and reached up to pull him back to the window, giggling more when she saw the large, goofy grin he wore.

She attempted to stifle herself, worried her mother would hear, but her nerves combined with her giddiness made it hard. Steven was deliver to see she was also blushing and he joined her laughter.

“Don’t go floating away,” whispered Connie as she made sure he was holding on to the windowsill.

“I’ll try,” he said, feeling both shy and bold somehow. He wanted to stay right there and just stare at her, but he knew that was a pipe dream. He slipped his arms into his jacket. “I, uh, should probably get going.”

“I guess,” sighed Connie, though neither of them moved. “Text me when you get home?”

“Sure thing,” said Steven as he prepared to lower himself. Before he did, he lungded forward and gave Connie one more surprise kiss on her cheek, quick and light but it brought her blush back nevertheless. He used the ledge to kick himself backward and floated back to Lion. “I’ll text my girlfriend as soon as I get home.” He said, cherishing the word as he gave her finger guns.

“And I’ll be waiting for my boyfriend to text me,” Connie whispered back matching his giddy tone, watching him from the window. He landed safely on the ground and waved to her until Lion lifted him onto his back and teleported him home.

Once back on the beach, Lion lowered the lovesick teen to the ground and Steven later in the sand and marveled at the moon for a moment. He sighed, content, and went to get his phone from his pocket to text Connie. When he did, a piece of paper came out with it: his pros and cons list. He opened it up and saw that now the cons sign had a giant X through it and the pros signs was circled several times. Even though it was just Xs and Os, he recognized Connie’s handwriting anywhere.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

E with Kaito, Zack and Peco? If you’re alright with that

E is for equal and I am more than all right with that, this is a good ship.

Being slightly in love with Kumon Kaito isn’t an entrance requirement for Team Baron as much as it’s an inevitability, as much standard-issue as their red-and-black jackets and gray waistcoats. Some of it’s probably purely physical--he’s handsome enough, he’s got poise and grace, there’s a sort of giddy rush that comes with the matter-of-fact movement of his hands on your arm or leg as he corrects a move or gets you back on time. But just as much of it is the sense of certainty, the clear knowledge that he knows what’s going on even if you don’t. It’s intoxicating.

He knows it happens, too, knows that everyone on the team is nursing at least half a crush. Peko’s actually gotten the impression that he’d rather they didn’t. He’s not exactly someone who welcomes affection. He barely even likes most of them.

Except Zack. He definitely likes Zack. Well, everyone likes Zack. That’s not even a team thing, that’s just a general fact of life, if you’ve met Zack there’s at least a seventy-five percent chance that you like Zack. Still, sometimes when Kaito’s talking to Zack he almost smiles, which is a big deal.

So.

Kaito likes Zack, in his particular impenetrable Kaito way which could be friendly and could be something more. Zack has a very natural and obvious crush on Kaito.

And Peko, proud owner of both the best slingshot aim and the worst luck in Zawame, is desperately in love with both of them, and has been considering eating his nicest hat for several days now in the hopes of making it stop.

At least he can talk to Zack, who nearly chokes on his smoothie when Peko says, as innocently as possible, “So what were you and Kaito talking about the other day? You were busy for a while.”

Zack coughs, swallows the rest of his mouthful of banana-and-mango smoothie, and says, “Oh, you know. Team stuff.”

--

At first Zack kind of hated Kaito. Who did he think he was, barging in and taking over Azami’s team like he had any right to it? Zack had briefly considered leaving for another team, but then again, that would have meant leaving Peko behind, and that was entirely unacceptable. So he’d stayed. And by the time he’d realized that he was having feelings about Peko that Azami would probably kill him for, he’d come around on Kaito, too.

Or, more accurately, he’d fallen slightly in love with Kaito, because Kaito just has that effect on people. Which seems to be more of an irritation to him than anything; it’s not as if he likes most people.

Except Peko. He definitely likes Peko. Granted, you’d be an idiot to not like Peko, everyone does. Peko is inherently likeable. He’s cheerful and good-natured. Zack’s considered petitioning the city to make it illegal for him to wear hats that make his hair flop in his eyes.

What had he been thinking about?

Right. Kaito, inasmuch as he has friendly feelings towards anyone, likes Peko. Peko has a radiantly obvious crush on Kaito, slightly more so than most of the other members of Team Baron.

Zack is left trying to figure out when the hell he fell in love with the two most wildly different people he interacts with on a daily basis and how he can make it stop. Having a crush on Peko is bad enough when he has dinner with the guy and his sister every couple of weeks and thus has to weather Azami’s knowing looks; being simultaneously continuously distracted by the set of his team leader’s mouth is just. Obnoxious.

And then, of course, everything gets very confusing, so when Peko asks him a perfectly reasonable question he nearly chokes on his smoothie in an effort to stop himself from saying, Well, Kaito and I were talking out some new choreography and then I think he nearly kissed me. "Oh, you know," he manages after a moment. "Team stuff. New moves, new music."

Peko nods enthusiastically. Why does he have to be so cute? "That's pretty exciting! I mean, not that I don't like our current choreography, but it'd be good to change things up a little, right? To keep people's interest?"

"Yeah, definitely, I--" --can't stop thinking about Kaito except when I'm thinking about you. "I think it's going to be good. Here, I’ve got samples of some of the potential new music on my phone.”

--

Kaito doesn't like people. They are, for the most part, useless, obnoxious, and weak. Zack, however, is neither weak, nor useless, and his obnoxiousness is variable and mainly connected to how good he looks on any particular day.

Peko's weakness is arguable, but he's...

Kaito doesn't generally like to think of anything or anyone as "cute," and is trying not to make a habit of it.

In any case, Zack and Peko are transparently interested in each other, and perhaps if they start dating then Peko will be on time to practice more often. Kaito has decided that he's not going to examine the odd feeling he gets when he thinks of them together. He's certainly not going to let himself have any more lapses in self-control like the other day's. He's sure that Zack would have allowed the kiss, but he's not interested in being simply tolerated.

Peko is most likely better for Zack, anyway, and Zack is definitely better for Peko. Thus, Kaito resolves firmly not to pursue his own absurd infatuations any further.

After barely two days, though, he finds his resolve being thoroughly tested when Zack manages to corner him after practice and open the conversation with, "Hey, look, Kaito, about the other day."

Kaito looks up at him, quietly resentful of the fact that looking up is even necessary, and says, "Were you interested in revisiting the new musical choices?"

Zack's eyes narrow. "You know that's not what I'm talking about."

"I don't see any need to discuss the other aspects of our conversation."

“Not even the--look, you know.” Zack gestures incoherently, looking frustrated and slightly embarrassed. A momentary glance around to make sure that none of the other members of the team are lurking nearby before, “Did you actually want to kiss me or am I imagining things?”

Kaito glares at him. “Whether or not I did is immaterial, you’re interested in Peko.”

A suspended pause. “I’m--I mean, I am, yeah, but he’s got the worst crush on you, so it’s not like that’d go anywhere. Besides, his sister would kill me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Zack, Azami thinks you’re--repeat that first part.”

“...did you not notice that Peko’s got it bad for you?”

“For how long, exactly?”

At which point, of course, Peko rounds the corner already saying, “Hey, we were looking for you guys, did you want to go to Drup--” and stops dead when they turn simultaneously to stare at him, and Kaito briefly considers leaving dance completely and going into something which causes less emotional turmoil. Politics, perhaps.

Peko is blushing. Zack is also blushing. Kaito feels somewhat warm, which means he’s likely blushing himself, which is not to be borne, so he cuts directly to the point. “Peko, I need you to settle a question.”

A slow nod. “O...k?”

“Zack is under the impression that you’re...interested in me.”

Peko jumps. His hat nearly falls off. “I mean. Uh. Yeah. But you’re sort of obviously into Zack, and he’s definitely into you, sorry, Zack, apparently we’re just talking about this now? So it’s not like I was going to bring it up or anything.”

“I had gotten the distinct idea that you and Zack were--I’m sorry, Zack is what?”

Zack stares fixedly into space for a long moment, long enough that Peko begins to look visibly worried and Kaito allows himself the beginnings of concern. When he finally speaks, it’s very quietly. “So if I’ve got this straight, I’ve been twisting myself in knots for a while now because I was interested in both of you and thought you were more into each other, and you’ve both been doing the same thing.”

Kaito scowls. “That seems to be the case, yes. I don’t believe I signed up to be the protagonist in some sort of romance comic.”

“Oh, no, if this was a romance comic one of you probably would have slapped the wall already.” Both Kaito and Zack turn to look at Peko, who grins awkwardly and scratches the back of his head. “I’m just saying. All I know is it wouldn’t be me, it’s always the tall guy and I’m kind of the opposite of that.” He adjusts his hat, avoiding both of their gazes. “So did you want to come to Drupers?”

Intensely irritated in a way that he can’t quite pinpoint, and which is only made more confusing by the overlaid sense of relief, Kaito says, “Yes,” and grabs Zack’s hand, ignoring the startled noise the gesture produces. He grabs Peko’s hand as well in passing, and Peko lets out a squawk that’s offensively charming and stumbles along after him. “I’m going to get the largest parfait Bandou will make me, and we’re going to discuss this later.”

Peko has to quicken his pace to keep up with Kaito’s quick steps, while Zack shortens his stride a bit in order to stay with them and says, “And you’re not concerned about people staring at us walking down the street holding hands like this?”

“They can stare if they want to.” Kaito is feeling distractingly pleased, and it’s taking more effort than he cares to consider to keep a smile off his face. “It’s not any of their business.”