#although i guess shes not working with full patterns just alternations

[andragoras-in-vanity]

girl help im having ambitions above my pay grade

[teacupfulofstarshine]

you're the pink in my cheeks (i'm a little bit soft)

summary: "and i know we'll never grow old together / cause you'll never grow old to me / you're the pink in my cheeks / and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft / you're the pink in my cheeks / and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft"

- "monster," marceline (adventure time)

(OR: 5.4k of soft domestic lesbian!analogical, featuring lesbian!moceit, trans male!remus, trans female!roman, and Gay Shenanigans)

a/n: huge thank you to dandie for beta'ing this fic!

i just wanted to write wlw is that so wrong of me? no. no it is not.

CW: alcohol mentions, a few sex jokes, swearing, one implied instance of potential sexual activity (although it doesn't go any farther than making out; if you want to skip that part, skip the section that starts with "Did you get the right kind of popcorn?")

word count: ~5.4k

read it on ao3!!

“I think I may be going insane,” Logan says, squinting at her laptop screen. Virginia, hanging upside-down in the armchair, looks up from her phone and blinks.

“And why is that?”

“Because I am starting to agree with Rosie’s anti-Florida agenda.”

“I didn’t realize that there was an anti-Florida agenda.”

“Rosie has one, and I have always thought it facetious. However, if this laboratory does not start sending me my requested samples and information in a timely manner, I will be forced to concede that Rosie may have . . . a point.”

“You, agreeing with a lit major? I never thought I’d see the day,” Virginia teases. Logan initially resists the urge to stick her tongue out or flip Virginia off, because that would be childish, but then she remembers that Virginia does not care about her childishness, so she sticks her tongue out. Virginia snorts with laughter, and Logan feels warm, fizzy pop-rocks bursting in her chest.

Her phone buzzes next to her, and she picks it up. There’s a new message blinking for her attention on the screen.

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

a, b, or c

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

. . . What?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

*rolls eyes*

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

i need you to make a selection, logan. a, b, or c.

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

I am confused. What am I selecting between?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Yes. I would like to know. That is why I asked you.

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Also, I am not a meteorologist. Or a boy.

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

it’s a meme, i’m sure v will be happy to show you the og. but first: make a choice

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Option B, I suppose?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

vodka it is!

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Wait, what?

Her phone buzzes again, another text thread lighting up, and Logan abandons the now-fruitless conversation with Jan to see that her wife has texted.

[from: soda poppy]

y is jan fillin a thermos with vodka and sayin u gave her the go ahead? >:(

[to: soda poppy]

I am unsure. She texted me asking me to make a choice between “a, b, and c” with no context given. When I eventually selected “b,” she excitedly mentioned vodka and logged off.

[from: soda poppy]

her an remy r going 2 a pta meeting tonight an i guess they’re goin drunk

[to: soda poppy]

Is that a . . . normal occurrence?

[from: soda poppy]

sadly yeah

[to: soda poppy]

Wait, is she even allowed to attend PTA meetings? You two don’t have any children?

[from: soda poppy]

she’s on the school board so she has the right 2 attend. idk if she’s supposed to or not but its never stopped her b4

“Everythin’ good over there?” Virginia asks.

“I believe I may have just enabled Jan to attend a PTA meeting drunk.” Virginia snorts, swiping at her phone.

“Good for her, honestly. The only reason she and Poppy live in that neighborhood is so that Jan can flaunt her wife in front of all the capital-s Straight people, because she’s a petty fuckin’ bitch.”

“That is a strange word choice for your best friend.”

“I hate Jan, she’s a bitch,” Virginia says, smirking fondly at her phone. Logan knows her girlfriend well enough to know that this statement is disingenuous, so she stands up, stretching her arms above her head, and leans down to drop a kiss onto Virginia’s forehead.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan blinks awake slowly, feeling for the position of her limbs. She’s on her left side, left arm tucked up under her pillow to cradle her head, wrapped in the thick comforter of their bed. Her right arm is slung across Virginia’s body, and her girlfriend is pressed up against her, head tucked right under Logan’s chin and face nestled into her neck and chest. Virginia breathes, slow and deep and even, and Logan hums, huffing out a soft exhale.

She carefully wiggles out of bed, tucking the comforter around Virginia’s curled-up form. Virginia grumbles when the cool morning air slips against her skin, because she is a foolish woman who insists upon sleeping in short shorts and a spaghetti-strap tank top no matter the current weather patterns. Logan wraps her up, making sure that she’s shifted into the middle of the warm divot of body heat, and Virginia settles in, asleep again in a heartbeat.

Logan turns to the corner chair, where her early-morning outfit is already laid out: athletic leggings, a sports bra, a moisture-wicking quarter zip jacket. She changes quietly, lights off, and tugs on a pair of ankle socks before slinking into the bathroom. Once the door is shut, she flicks on the soft lights over the vanity and carefully undoes her sleep braid. Normally, Virginia does Logan’s hair, because Logan is not good at dealing with her wavy, tangled, curly mess, but she won’t wake up her girlfriend for that. She can, at bare minimum, pull her hair up into a high ponytail for running purposes.

They live in a small town only a short walk (and even shorter bike ride) from the beach, full of little two-story brightly-colored beach cottages. Logan steps off her front porch, pulls out her phone, and quickly shoots a text.

[to: ginny <3]

I am headed to the beach for my weekly run. I will likely return before you wake up, but in case I do not: I will be back before 9 AM.

[to: ginny <3]

I love you <3

Logan kicks up the kickstand on her bike, runs her fingers over the glossy dark-blue paint flecked with white and silver and gold to mimic stars, and swings one leg over the bike seat. She carefully pedals out into the narrow road and heads for the beach. The cool early-morning air whips past her face, and she chances a glance up at the dark-blue-turning-light-blue-grey sky and smiles.

She’s always been an early-morning morning person, anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan’s sneakers dig into the hard-packed wet sand along the water’s edge as she runs. Seagulls scatter in front of her, and the podcast Virginia recommended hums in her ear. The sun creeps up, up, up onto the horizon, coloring the blue-grey into streaks of brilliant pink and orange and gold, light reflecting off the water in resplendent diamond sparkles.

Logan runs half a mile down the beach, turns around, runs back to where she started and then runs half a mile in the other direction before turning around and running back to her starting point. By the time she’s bent over, hands on her knees, huffing out breath while her legs burn pleasantly, the sun has emerged fully from the ocean, and Logan is beginning to wish she had worn a visor.

She takes a moment to appreciate the sensory experiences of being on a nearly-abandoned beach: the scent of salt water, the sound of waves crashing against sand, the errant cries of gulls squabbling over fish. Their little beach is not nearly pristine enough for a tourist attraction, and too far north along the Atlantic coast to be warm year-round. Still, Logan loves it, and cannot imagine living anywhere else.

She hunts along the water’s edge as she walks, briefly, a cool-down before the bike ride home. She finds a few things worth photographing, a few crabs to shoo back into the ocean, and a few things worth gathering: an intact clam shell whose smooth curve runs unbroken from the heel of her palm to the tip of her index finger when she lays it flat in her hand, a light gray rock worn smooth by the waves that turns dark-gray-almost-black when wet, a small spiral shell that she thinks may have broken off of the top of a snail shell. Logan wraps all three things carefully in a small handkerchief from the little bag she keeps in her bike basket, pulling out her phone to note the time (8:37 AM) and the message notification flashing at her.

[from: ginny<3]

dunno why you insist on being a morning person. stop by the dunkin on your way back and get us breakfast?

[to: ginny<3]

You had Dunkin for breakfast three times this week. You should consume something healthy.

[from: ginny <3]

>:( >:( >:( >:(

[from: ginny <3]

counterpoint: you bringing me dunkin is better than me not eating breakfast at all. which is the alternative because i do not want to get up and prepare anything

[to: ginny <3]

Your womanly wiles will not work on me in regards to Dunkin breakfast.

[from: ginny <3]

bitch (affectionate)

[to: ginny <3]

Would you like me to make you breakfast on my return, beloved?

[from: ginny <3]

. . .

[from: ginny <3]

will you make me an omelette? with all the cheesy goo an shit?

[to: ginny <3]

I will make you an omelette with some degree of “cheese goo.”

Logan slides her phone into her pocket, huffing out a laugh at her girlfriend’s behavior, and hops onto her bike again.

*~*~*~*~*

“Your omelettes are always so much better than mine,” Virginia says, moaning as she sinks her teeth into an enormous bite of egg and cheese. Logan, calmly dicing bell peppers to mix into her own omelette, smiles.

“All food tastes better when it is prepared by someone who is not you.”

“You’ve clearly never had anything the twins have cooked.” Virginia takes another bite, pops a multivitamin into her mouth, and chases it down with a gulp of milk. “Besides, it tastes better because you made it.”

“I am not the most accomplished chef in the world, certainly, but I am glad you enjoy my cooking.”

Virginia laughs softly. “Lo, I like your food because it’s prepared by someone who loves me. I can taste the love in everything you make for me.”

Logan turns back to her peppers to hide her blush. “Love is not a measurable ingredient when cooking.” Virginia laughs again, louder this time; when Logan sets the knife down, she hears Virginia’s chair scrape out behind her as she stands, feels her arms wrap around her waist, feels the cool skin of her face press into her neck.

“Love you.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Stressful day at work?” Logan asks, hearing the door slam.

Virginia kicks off her flats, sending them flying into the wall with a clatter. Logan sets down her crochet project and moves toward the entrance of their house, where Virginia is shrugging off her rainjacket to reveal a mint-green Peter Pan-collared blouse and dark gray dress pants. “The stressiest.”

Logan takes the jacket and shakes it out on the tiled entranceway before hanging it on the hook. “I am sorry, beloved.”

“Lots of assessments, lots of parents who don’t understand why I’m assessing their kid, lots of parents insisting that there’s nothing wrong with their kid, or that there’s no way their kid could possibly have the deficits that I’m seeing. Like, I wouldn’t make this shit up, you know? Literally, let me help your child. You came to me, remember? I’m not in the habit of imposing myself onto people.”

“That sounds very stressful,” Logan says. She tries to picture a life where she spends all her time interacting with people she doesn’t know on a regular basis instead of her little corner of the university biochemistry lab where she only has to interact with three or four known people and her immediate supervisor, mostly by email. It sends icy fingers skittering down her spine.

“It is, I hate it. I mean, Kitty’s my supervisor until I get my C’s, so if I have problems I can consult with her, but like . . . why are people the way that they are.”

Logan stretches up and presses a gentle kiss to Virginia’s cheek. “I love you, Ginny.”

Virginia exhales and folds herself around Logan, draping her body over her girlfriend and going limp and boneless. “I don’t wanna be a real person for the rest of the night.”

“That can be arranged.”

“But it’s my night to make dinner.”

“I do not mind switching and having you make dinner tomorrow,” Logan says. “This is an acceptable deviation from the routine.” Virginia pushes her face into Logan’s neck, and Logan nuzzles the side of her head, and she sighs like the entire world has lifted off her chest.

*~*~*~*~*

(This is how it starts:

Logan, taking a class on British literature in her sophomore year because she needs to meet her core requirements. Logan, meeting Rosie, disagreeing with her on almost every single point she raises in class, hating when they’re paired up for their midterm project but earning the best grade in the class overall. Logan, seeing a text from Rosie about how her housemate needs people to participate in a research study for extra credit. Logan, making the long trek down to the health sciences building and seeing Virginia for the first time, thinking that she’s pretty and not knowing that she’ll be thinking that for the rest of her life.)

*~*~*~*~*

“Hello, gorgeous,” Virginia hums.

“Are you talking to me or to the mint plant?” Logan says, aggressively stabbing her pointer finger against the Delete key. It clacks loudly, and she mutters an insult under her breath. “I am going to set myself on fire. I swear to god, I am.”

“Obviously the mint plant,” Virginia says, turning and dropping a kiss on Logan’s head. “You okay, honey?” Logan grumbles more and shoves the laptop away from her with a disgruntled noise. Virginia moves the laptop away and leans over to kiss her forehead.

“I am trying to politely word an email whose essence boils down to, ‘If you do not send me my fucking samples in a timely manner, I am going to be forced to commit an Atrocity the likes of which this earth has never seen’,” Logan says.

Virginia laughs so hard that she sits down on the tiled kitchen floor, wiping tears from her eyes. “You are so funny,” she wheezes. Logan feels her irritation fade a little under the brightness of her girlfriend’s joy. “Let me see the email, I’m good at professional bullshitting.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Braid my hair!” Rosie says, throwing herself down onto the couch. Logan lifts her laptop up just in time to keep Rosie’s head from slamming into the keyboard.

“Ginny is your best bet for braids, Rosie. I have limited experience.”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy, It just has to be off my neck.”

Logan saves her document and sets her laptop on the coffee table, poking at Rosie’s ribs until she slides onto the floor and settles cross-legged between Logan’s thighs. “A comb and some hair-ties would be appreciated.”

“REMUS!” Rosie shouts.

“WHAT?”

“BRING ME A BRUSH AND SOME HAIR BANDS!”

“GET YOUR OWN!”

“I’m going to kill that man,” Rosie mutters, rolling to her feet. There are suspicious muffled thumping noises from the other room for a few minutes before Rosie emerges, victorious, hair somehow even messier than it was in the first place.

“You are the single loudest person I have ever met,” Logan sighs, taking the comb and the hair ties and beginning to drag it through Rosie’s curls. Rosie winces, just a little, at the pull of the comb, and Logan tries to be more gentle.

“Thank you!”

“I did not say that was a compliment.

“Hey!”

*~*~*~*~*

Logan tugs her sweatshirt sleeves down from where she’d rolled them up previously, shivering a little. Part of her wishes that she had worn leggings instead of capris as she drags the folding chair a little closer to the bonfire, toes dragging through the still-sun-warmed sand. The speaker set up on the food table blasts some sort of current pop music, and Rosie and Poppy dance around each other, chanting the lyrics at each other. They are both very loud and very off-key and, Logan suspects, fairly drunk as well. Remus is in the ocean (definitely buzzed, potentially naked) and Jan is standing at the edge of the ocean, watching to make sure he stays alive.

“Hey,” someone says, low and rumbling in her ear. Logan does not flinch (just barely) and turns to see Virginia, holding a plastic cup with a poorly-drawn sketch of the state of Virginia on it. Her hair is starting to come loose from its messy bun, and her sweater sleeves keep sliding down over her wrists and nearly dunking into her drink, and her breath smells sweet and alcoholic. When she lifts her hand to Logan’s cheek, her fingers are cool, and Logan shivers.

“How’s my girl?” Virginia asks.

“Cold,” Logan answers honestly. Virginia laughs, tipping her head back and exposing the long strip of her neck. Logan wants to lick it.

“You’re adorable,” Virginia says, leaning in and pressing her mouth against Logan’s ear. Her breath is warm and slightly damp. “So pretty, my Logan, and so smart. I bet you know exactly what chemical compounds are making the flames turn that color, hmmm?”

Logan can feel her face burning hotter than the bonfire, but Virginia just sits languidly in her lap, feet propped up on the armrest. Her toes are painted pale purple, and the glitter sparkles in the firelight.

“How many drinks have you had?” Logan asks.

“Enough to feel all tingly,” Virginia says, swirling whatever’s in her cup. “How many have you had?”

“None,” Logan answers honestly. Virginia leans her head against Logan’s shoulder, and her wispy frizz tickled Logan’s nose. She sneezes, and Virginia giggles in the high-pitched, superficial way she only giggles when she gets really, really drunk.

“You sound so cute when you sneeze.”

“I do not.”

“Of course you do,” and now Virginia is looking at her, eyes glowing warm in the firelight. “You sound cute when you do anything. You’re cute when you exist. You’re cute no matter what. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

Logan hates the taste of alcohol, but she leans in and kisses Virginia anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

“Lo.”

“Hmmm?”

“Pick a color.”

“What?”

“I’m painting my toes again. Pick a color for me.”

Logan flops over onto her stomach, staring at the neat row of creme polishes sitting on their ottoman. Virginia’s bare feet are propped up in front of them, spread apart awkwardly with neon lemon gel toe spreaders, and she studies the nail polish like she’s trying to determine which vial isn’t poisoned.

“I like that one,” she says finally, pointing to a pale pink polish the color of the flowers Virginia brought her on their first date. Virginia hums, picking the bottle up and tilting it critically in the light.

“Not the one I would have picked, but I said you could pick, so I guess we’re doing it.”

Virginia tosses some bottles of toppers (or “tacos” as she calls them, slang from one of the YouTubers she likes) onto the bed while she paints her toes, and Logan sifts through them to settle on a blue-yellow iridescent one.

“I do not know how you can get behind wearing something called a Unicorn Skin,” Logan says. Virginia just shrugs and plucks the bottle from her hand. Their fingers overlap - Logan’s warm from where they’ve been tucked under her body, Virginia’s cool from where they’ve been gripping the glass bottle. Impulsively, Logan lifts Virginia’s fingers and kisses the tips.

“You’re going to smear the polish,” Virginia mutters, even though she painted her fingers earlier today and they’ve been dry for a while. She doesn’t bother to yank her fingers away, either, so Logan kisses them again.

*~*~*~*~*

“Logan!”

Logan is fully aware that the only thing keeping Poppy from crashing into her like a floral-sundress-covered cannonball is the casserole dish in her hands. She counts her blessings and steps aside to let Poppy in.

“Where’s Jan?”

“Getting something from the car! It’s my turn to drive us home, so she brought something to drink.”

Jan primly kicks the passenger side door shut with her heeled ankle boots, a bottle of wine grasped by the neck in each hand.

“I hope you do not intend to drink both of those in their entirety tonight,” Logan says. Jan rolls her eyes and offers one of the bottles to her.

“This one is a gift for you and Ginia. The other one is for me.”

“None for Poppy?”

“Poppy is the designated driver, so she will not be drinking. And I know she already told you that.” Logan rolls her eyes, and Jan flips her off. “Are you going to invite me in or not?”

“What are you, a vampire?” Virginia shouts from the kitchen.

“Only one of us dresses like the undead, darling, and it isn’t me,” Jan calls back, stepping into the house. “Are the twins here yet?”

“They cannot attend. Remus has orchestra practice and Rosie is teaching a dance class. You already knew both of these facts, because you are in the group text.”

“I am not.”

“You responded to a message in the group thread fifteen minutes ago.”

“That was the NSA agent assigned to monitor me.”

“You are a liar.”

“What else is new?”

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

soda poppy: hey every1! DONUT 4get to make ur bakesale goodies and drop them off at r house by 7 am on fri!

lo tide: Please use normal words. I am begging you.

snesbian (snake lesbian): then beg.

lo tide: I do not recall asking for your opinion.

snesbian (snake lesbian): and yet i give it to you anyway. am i not generous

virgin: if you don’t stop making fun of my gf i swear to god

virgin: also remus if you don’t stop changing my name i’m gonna end you

virgin has changed their name to gin(ny) and tonic!

gin(ny) and tonic: much better anyway

violets are blue rosie is me: i believe you meant anygay

gin(ny) and tonic: i said what i fucking said

ace attorney irl: you changed your name :(

gin(ny) and tonic: every day the Lord regrets giving all of us mod powers in this chat

snesbian (snake lesbian): i have no such regrets

lo tide: Can we circle back to the bake sale, please?

soda poppy: Whatchu wanna kno???

lo tide: I assume it is school related?

soda poppy: yep!

soda poppy: fundraising 4 this year’s art club field trip! since im the faculty advisor im in charge of approving and setting up 4 the fundraisers

lo tide: I see. And why, exactly, is it our responsibility to make things for this fundraiser? Should it not be the students’ responsibility?

soda poppy: they r makin stuff 4 it but also i gotta make sure some of the stuff will b edible yknow

lo tide: I see.

gin(ny) and tonic: listen i know that jan is like. a professional pastry chef an shit. but i’m not making anything fancy like a cheesecake or smthn

gin(ny) and tonic: i’m making like. fuckin brownies

snesbian (snake lesbian): smh don’t you care about the Children at all?

gin(ny) and tonic: no. they’re not my kids

ace attorney irl: i will make cookies

soda poppy: u cannot make them inappropriate shapes

ace attorney irl: :(

violets are blue rosie is me: do not worry, i will make sure they are an appropriate shape

violets are blue rosie is me: i’ll make cupcakes!

lo tide: I believe I have a recipe for lemon squares that I can make. Will lemon squares be sufficient?

soda poppy: yeah! just keep ur stuff free of common allergens like tree nuts

gin(ny) and tonic: so my plan to just yeet you a bag of reese’s peanut butter cups and call it a contribution is out then

*~*~*~*~*

Virginia throws a box of brownie mix into the cart and dusts her hands off. “There. Done.”

Logan raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look, we have the rest of the ingredients at home. We have tap water, we have oil, we have eggs, we don’t need anything else. What do we need for your lemon thingies?”

“Lemons, presumably.”

“You’re a comedian,” Logan deadpans. Virginia flips her off, and then leans in to kiss her cheek. “I do need lemons, though. Lemons, more eggs . . . I have a list in my phone.”

“What phone?” Virginia says, dangling Logan’s galaxy-patterned case above her head. “I think you’re too short for this, Lo.”

“Give me my phone,” Logan says, rolling her eyes. Virginia wiggles it above her head, laughing.

“Maybe you should give me something in return.”

“Like what?”

Virginia grins. “Like a kiss, perhaps?”

Logan rolls her eyes again, but she leans in and kisses Virginia gently, swiping her phone back when Virginia lowers her hand to cup her face. “Thank you for paying the toll, sweetheart.”

“You are ridiculous,” Logan says. It doesn’t stop her from gently kissing Virginia’s cheek before pushing the cart down the aisle again.

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

lo tide: What time did you want us to drop off the baked goods, Poppy?

soda poppy: if ur gonna b in the area, u can just drop them off at my house!

ace attorney irl: i made some of the shapes inappropriate but those ones r 4 u and jan

soda poppy: what did u make 4 the bake sale?

ace attorney irl: . . .

soda poppy: what did u make 4 the children, remus.

ace attorney irl: nothin’ too crazy! jan had some normal summer shapes - suns, flip flops, etc. etc. used those

soda poppy: :D thx remus!

ace attorney irl: made some fishies too! but the octopi are just for u an jan.

ace attorney irl: i . . . may have painted dicks on them

soda poppy: well at least u warned me right

*~*~*~*~*

“Did you get the right kind of popcorn?” Logan asks.

“If by ‘the right kind’ you mean ‘your favorite kind,’ then yes, I did,” Virginia says, coming into the living room with a large yellow bowl full of fluffy popcorn. “What are we watching tonight? It’s your turn to pick, isn’t it?”

“Gay fish,” Logan says.

Virginia sets the popcorn on the coffee table and blinks at her. “That is . . . quite the description of Finding Nemo, sweetheart.”

“Not Finding Nemo, Ginny. Luca. It’s new, and it’s not explicitly gay, but there is a very obvious queer reading. I thought we could watch it together.”

“Anything with you sounds wonderful.”

“Sap,” Logan mutters. She leans in to kiss Virginia’s cheek, but Virginia turns at the last moment and presses their lips together.

“Are you sure you want to watch a movie?” she says. “We could just make out instead, if you want.” She pushes gently on Logan’s stomach, guiding her to lay on her back on the couch. Virginia lays on top of her, gently sliding a hand to rest warm and heavy on her stomach. She leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Logan’s neck, and then her jaw, and then rubbing their noses together.

“Tonight is movie night,” Logan says. Virginia presses their mouths together, and Logan hums, gently pressing up into the kiss. “We should be watching a movie.”

“Are you sure?” Virginia says. “I think we should pursue this avenue a little further.”

Logan squirms a little. “I - I would not - um - no, thank you.”

Virginia’s eyes, which were hazing over with something, clear as she blinks. “Okay, sweetheart.” She leans back, sits up, pulls Logan into a sitting position. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” she says. “I just - I am not in the mood for that tonight. If that is okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Virginia says. She holds out a hand, and Logan takes it. Virginia kisses the back of it before settling herself on the couch. “I am so proud of you for expressing a boundary and telling me you were uncomfortable. I know that expressing boundaries is something that we’re both working on, and you did a wonderful job. Tell me what you want, Lo. Please?”

“I would like a kiss,” Logan says. “Just one. And then I would like to cuddle, and - and I would like us to watch Luca together. Is that acceptable?”

Virgil nods. “Of course, love. Come here, hmmm?” Logan settles next to her, and Virginia gently cups her cheek and presses their mouths together. “I love you, Logan. So much. Of course we can watch Luca now.”

Virginia lays an arm along the top of the couch, allowing Logan to cuddle up against her and rest her head on her chest. “I love you,” Logan says softly.

“I love you too, sweetpea.”

*~*~*~*~*

Logan rolls over, yawning, and feels a small weight displace itself from her thighs. She blinks awake slowly, lifting her head and pushing her curtain of curls aside to reveal a black cat mewing at her grumpily before settling into a sushi roll beside her.

“Did I wake you? I am sorry, Galileo . . .”

Galileo settles against her, purring softly, while the ash-grey cat at the foot of the bed pads slowly up to curl on Virginia’s back. “That’s your favorite spot, isn’t it, Andromeda?” The cat emits a soft “mrrrp” before settling back down to sleep. Logan yawns, smiles, and gently strokes her hears. “What should we do, girls? Shall we stay awake and be productive members of society?”

Neither cat responds, and Logan looks at Virginia. She’s haloed in the morning light, eyes tightly shut, mouth hanging open, drool leaking into a puddle on the pillow. She snores a little - one, two, three snorts before settling back into a deep sleep.

“No,” Logan decides, “we shall not.” She lays back down, gently nudging Galileo a few inches over so that she can snuggle up to Virginia. Galileo stretches out, pressing a paw directly into Logan’s cheek. Logan shoves her, and she resettles onto Logan’s feet with an indignant noise.

“You can sleep by my face when you do not kick my face,” Logan mutters, curling into her love.

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

soda poppy: r u all comin 2 the bake sale 2morrow?!

lo tide: I was under the impression that we were only providing the baked goods. Is it not for the students at the school?

soda poppy: we got waaaayyyy more stuff than we thought so we r havin a 2nd bakesale 2morrow 4 parents an stuff!

soda poppy: we r gonna need sum help with setup though . . .

lo tide: Poppy, please do not even -

soda poppy: 🥺🥺🥺 p l e a s e

lo tide: Poppy.

snesbian (snake lesbian): logan

lo tide: If I agree to stop and pick up coffee for everyone, will that motivate you all to turn out?

violets are blue rosie is me: i’m always a slut for free coffee

lo tide: I’m sorry, where did I say that this would be free?

violets are blue rosie is me: D:<

ace attorney irl: eh i’m down for it. where you swingin’ by?

soda poppy: there’s a panera p close 2 where the bake sale is!!! it’s gonna b at the morning girl’s basketball game

lo tide: Does anyone have any issues with Panera coffee?

violets are blue rosie is me: nah. large iced coffee, add three ounces of half and half, two pumps of sugar syrup, two pumps of vanilla, and caramel drizzle.

ace attorney irl: complicated bitch much?

violets are blue rosie is me: why must the cain instinct betray me like this

ace attorney irl: the cain instinct started when we stole each other’s genders in the womb

violets are blue rosie is me: this is true this is true but you’re still a bitch

ace attorney irl: large hazelnut coffee, two sugars, please

snesbian (snake lesbian): large dark roast, black

soda poppy: medium decaf coffee, two ounces of almond milk, and two pumps of sugar syrup!

gin(ny) and tonic: large caramel latte

lo tide: You . . . are going to ride in the car with me to pick up the coffee, we can order our own coffees. I do not need your order, love.

lo tide: But I appreciate the information <3 <3

*~*~*~*~*

“We come bearing gifts,” Virginia announces loudly. “And by gifts, I mean we bought a baker’s dozen of cinnamon crunch bagels for everybody.”

“Well, there are twelve cinnamon crunch bagels and one plain bagel, bagged separately, for me,” Logan corrects, expertly balancing two coffee trays with a bagel container. “Also, we made more brownies.”

Poppy looks up from where she’s instructing two high-schoolers on how to hang a sign properly and grins, waving brightly. Jan is leaning on the table, hand on her head, sipping at a water bottle.

“Vodka or whiskey?” Logan asks dryly, handing over Jan’s black coffee. Jan blinks at her, flips her off, and drains a long swig from her cup.

“Water. Partied a little too hard with Remy last night, and now I’m hungover as shit.”

“We suspected as much, which is why we brought you an extra coffee.”

“Lifesaver,” Jan says, knocking back another long drag of coffee before taking a sip of her water bottle. (Logan suspects the bottle is actually Poppy’s, due to the sun-shiney stickers plastered all over it.) “You and Poppy both. But if you tell anyone that, I’ll gut you like a fish."

“No, you won’t,” Logan says, turning to hand Rosie and Remus their respective drinks. “You never do.”

Jan flips her off, but Virginia comes up behind her and leans her forehead against her shoulder. Logan turns, kissing her forehead, and smiles.

Life is good today, she thinks. Life is good.

(screen names!

virgin -> gin(ny) and tonic; ginny <3 = virginia (virgil)

lo tide = logan

snesbian (snake lesbian) = jan (janus)

soda poppy = poppy (patton)

ace attorney irl = remus

violets are blue rosie is me = rosie (roman) (thanks to @rosesisupposes for letting me borrow your screen name for this!)

[adventure-hearts]

( PART 1: DA + ASTROLOGY )

PART 2: DIGIMON ADVENTURE + MBTI 

Taichi - ESTP Yamato - INFP Sora - ENFJ Koushirou - INTJ Mimi - ESFP Jou - ISTJ Takeru - ENFP Hikari - ISFP Daisuke - ESFP Miyako - ENFP Iori - ISTJ Ken - INFJ

Discussion and Commentary below!

If you’ve read some of my previous headcanons about the MBTI, and in particular this very popular post from four (!) years ago, you may find I’ve changed my mind a lot.

An important thing about this typology (or any other one, really) is that it’s quite easy to just look into some websites and make decisions based on the keywords used to describe each type. Which is what I used to do. Keywords are helpful to help us get the “basic picture” (hence why I quote them in this post), but now I believe that you have to read actual theory in order to understand the subtle differences between each type and make more educated guesses.

Since then, I’ve been reading more deeply into MBTI and the Functions. Consequently, the way I understand the MBTI has changed significantly, and so have my Headcanons.

It’s been particularly interesting to learn about the Inferior Function, or the “dark side” of each personality type. The more I read about it, it became surprising that how it seemed to describe most of the adventure kids’ characters arcs incredibly well. This is another reason why the combination Chosen Children + MBTI is such a fascinating and fun thought exercise!

It should be noted that different authors can have widely different interpretations of types, which is why, for the sake of simplicity and coherence, I’ve only read 3-4 main sources when preparing this post. And I tried stay away from popular MBTI websites and resources that exist around the internet, most which can have a slightly misleading/superficial vision of each type. 

However, this doesn’t mean my HCs are “RIGHT” or that other people can’t have better ideas. I’m as biased about the characters as anyone else. I’d be very happy to hear alternative takes!

***

Taichi - ESTP Dominant function: Se

Flexible and tolerant, they take a pragmatic approach focused on immediate results. Theories and conceptual explanations bore them - they want to act energetically to solve the problem. Focus on the here-and-now, spontaneous, enjoy each moment that they can be active with others. Enjoy material comforts and style. Learn best through doing.

Taichi is pretty easy to type, and most ESTP descriptions fit him nicely. Thompson notes the archetype of ESTP is James Bond and Xena the Warrior Princess; I think the character of Taichi, who represents Courage, fits in the same tradition — a bold, impulsive, adventurous leader who is good at strategizing and is able to make though decisions, but is is also very charismatic and charming.  Taichi’s tendency to become thoughtful, introspective, and indecisive under stress can be explained by the inferior function, Ni.

Yamato - INFP Dominant function: Fi

Idealistic, loyal to their values and to people who are important to them. Want an external life that is congruent with their values. Curious, quick to see possibilities, can be catalysts for implementing ideas. Seek to understand people and to help them fulfill their potential. Adaptable, flexible, and accepting unless a value is threatened.

By contrast, Yamato is always the most difficult to type! I ended up using INFP rather than INFJ, because I think it makes more sense for his dominant function to be Fi (introverted feeling): “Due to the introverted nature of Fi, INFPs’ status as feelers is not always evident from without. When immersed in Fi, they can seem a bit cool, aloof, or indifferent.“ (Drenthe). This type is pretty well representative of Yamato’s caring, passionate and caring side, and especially his conflict during Adventure is beyond, his search for self and meaning. Yamato’s more critical, aggressive, angry, and impetuous side is easily explained by him falling under the influence of the inferior function of this type, Te.

Sora - ENFJ Dominant function: Fe

Warm, empathetic, responsive, and responsible. Highly attuned to the emotions, needs, and motivations of others. Find potential in everyone, want to help others fulfill their potential. May act as catalysts for individual and group growth. Loyal, responsive to praise and criticism. Sociable, facilitate others in a group, and provide inspiring leadership.

Another character who’s relatively difficult to type. I see Sora as being in the middle of many of the Preference axis, hence why I initially typed her as something pretty difference different. But now I’m pretty convinced her dominant function is Fe, even though she’s probably only 51% Extroverted. She leans more towards iNtuition than Sensing: Sora’s definitely someone who can pick up things intuitively, especially when it comes to human relationships. So, ESFJ could probably work as well, but I see her as more of an NF type than a SJ type. Sora’s tendency to become hypersensitive, stubborn and withdrawn when under stress? That’s the inferior function, Ti. 

Koushirou - INTJ Dominant function: Ni

Have original minds and great drive for implementing their ideas and achieving their goals. Quickly see patterns in external events and develop long-range explanatory perspectives. When committed, organize a job and carry it through. Skeptical and independent, have high standards of competence and performance - for themselves and others.

This is an example of how learning more about Functions made me change my mind! I believe Koushirou is the text-book definition of INTJ and the Ni function. Koushirou isn’t just someone who thinks — he creates knew knowledge and connects theoretical possibilities. One of the effects of the inferior function of this type, Ni, is an “Obsessive focus on external data”, which means that they can become obsessed with controlling small details, which is what Koushirou tends to do under stress.

Mimi - ESFP Dominant function: Se

Outgoing, friendly, and accepting. Exuberant lovers of life, people, and material comforts. Enjoy working with others to make things happen. Bring common sense and a realistic approach to their work, and make work fun. Flexible and spontaneous, adapt readily to new people and environments. Learn best by trying a new skill with other people.

Mimi is a rather obvious fit for this type, not only with her bubbly and happy exterior, but also her naïveté and compassion towards others (Crest of Purity). 

Jou - ISTJ Dominant function: Si

Quiet, serious, earn success by thoroughness and dependability. Practical, matter-of-fact, realistic, and responsible. Decide logically what should be done and work toward it steadily, regardless of distractions. Take pleasure in making everything orderly and organized - their work, their home, their life. Value traditions and loyalty.

Jou’s type seems pretty straightforward. The characteristics of this type to fit him (and the Crest of Honesty) very well. The inferior Function of this type is Ni, manifested as impulsiveness and catastrophizing — classic Jou moves whenever he looses his cool.

Takeru - ENFP Dominant function: Ne

Warmly enthusiastic and imaginative. See life as full of possibilities. Make connections between events and information very quickly, and confidently proceed based on the patterns they see. Want a lot of affirmation from others, and readily give appreciation and support. Spontaneous and flexible, often rely on their ability to improvise and their verbal fluency.

Takeru is REALLY hard to type. Mostly because, just like his brother, he isn’t as transparent as he seems. Behind that charming, open, happy façade, Takeru runs deep. I ended up choosing ENFP is described as the most optimistic of all types (Crest of Hope), and they are very charismatic and inspiring as well. The “dark side” of this type can be hopelessness or depression (see also: tri. Chapter 3!)

Hikari - ISFP Dominant function: Fi

Quiet, friendly, sensitive, and kind. Enjoy the present moment, what's going on around them. Like to have their own space and to work within their own time frame. Loyal and committed to their values and to people who are important to them. Dislike disagreements and conflicts, do not force their opinions or values on others.

Hiakri is another one whose type isn’t obvious, but maybe for different reasons than the other characters I hesitated about — we just don’t see enough of her. I think you can make a strong argument for her being an Intuitive type, but ultimately I think Fi represents her better.

Daisuke - ESFP Dominant function: Se

I know it’s reductive to say Daisuke and Taichi have different personality type, but that’s easy to understand if you see them as being in different stages of type development.

Miyako - ENFP Dominant function: Ne

I’ve always thought Takeru and Miyako are pretty alike, hence why I think they would both fit this type.  

Iori - ISTJ Dominant function: Si

Again, Iori and Jou are pretty alike, although at different stages of their personality development. I could see Iori a ISTP/ISTJ, too — to be fair, I haven’t made up my mind totally about him.

Ken - INFJ Dominant function: Ni

Seek meaning and connection in ideas, relationships, and material possessions. Want to understand what motivates people and are insightful about others. Conscientious and committed to their firm values. Develop a clear vision about how best to serve the common good. Organized and decisive in implementing their vision.

I’m just going to go and give Ken INFJ, although I’m not entirely sure it is the best fit. Ken is incredibly complex, but Ni seems to describe him fairly well. And certainly, the “dark side” of Ni, Se, can very well explain why Ken developed his Digimon Kaiser persona.

BONUS

A brief summary of the 8 Functions:

Introverted Intuition (Ni) collects conscious and subconscious information, and then synthesizes it to produce convergent impressions, insights, answers, and theories. It sees deep causes, patterns, and laws underlying sense data. It is characteristically penetrating and insightful.

Extraverted Intuition (Ne) surveys and creatively recombines a breadth of ideas, associations, patterns, and possibilities. It is characteristically innovative, divergent, open-ended, and non-discriminating. Outwardly, Ne users may present as scattered, random, quirky, witty, and ideationally curious.

Introverted Sensing (Si) retains, consolidates, and recollects historical and autobiographical information. It attends to and draws on a concentrated body of past experiences, routines, and traditions (i.e., the “tried and true”). It forgoes the constant pursuit of new or broad experiences, finding safety and security in stability and consistency. It also surveys inner bodily sensations.

Extraverted Sensing (Se) seeks extensive outer stimulation in the “here and now”—new sights, sounds, tastes, experiences, etc. It is open-ended and non-discriminating with respect to new experiences. It can also be associated with image-consciousness and observation skills, displaying a keen eye for detail. Outwardly, it may manifest as a recurrent desire for activities beyond talking (“Let’s do something!”).

“Introverted Intuition (Ni) collects conscious and subconscious information, and then synthesizes it to produce convergent impressions, insights, answers, and theories. It sees deep causes, patterns, and laws underlying sense data. It is characteristically penetrating and insightful.

Extraverted Intuition (Ne) surveys and creatively recombines a breadth of ideas, associations, patterns, and possibilities. It is characteristically innovative, divergent, open-ended, and non-discriminating. Outwardly, Ne users may present as scattered, random, quirky, witty, and ideationally curious.

Introverted Sensing (Si) retains, consolidates, and recollects historical and autobiographical information. It attends to and draws on a concentrated body of past experiences, routines, and traditions (i.e., the “tried and true”). It forgoes the constant pursuit of new or broad experiences, finding safety and security in stability and consistency. It also surveys inner bodily sensations.

Extraverted Sensing (Se) seeks extensive outer stimulation in the “here and now”—new sights, sounds, tastes, experiences, etc. It is open-ended and non-discriminating with respect to new experiences. It can also be associated with image-consciousness and observation skills, displaying a keen eye for detail. Outwardly, it may manifest as a recurrent desire for activities beyond talking (“Let’s do something!”).

“Introverted Thinking (Ti) utilizes deep and nuanced logic to examine techniques, problems, concepts, or theories. It seeks self-regulation and self-optimization through the development of personal skills, methods, and strategies. It takes a skeptical and reductive approach toward knowledge.

Extraverted Thinking (Te) uses explicit logic, including standardized methods, measurements, policies, and procedures, to make systems and operations more rational, efficient, or effective. This often involves working as part of an institution, be it corporate, scientific, academic, etc. Outwardly, Te delivers opinions and directives in a firm, direct, measured, and unemotional fashion. It may at times be perceived as harsh, tactless, or unsympathetic.”

“Introverted Feeling (Fi) explores and refines personal tastes and feelings, contributing to a strong sense of personal uniqueness. It is self-regulating and self-controlling, working to maintain inner emotional and moral order. It may also emotionally invest in a limited number of love objects, be they persons, animals, hobbies, or causes.

Extraverted Feeling (Fe) surveys a breadth of human emotions, values, and morals. It strives toward interpersonal rapport, consensus, and continuity. It can also be associated with effective communication and social intelligence, facilitating growth and transformation in others. Outwardly, it delivers opinions and directives in a direct yet tactful way, often with a sense of emotional urgency and conviction.

in My True Type, A.J. Drenth

MBTI RESOURCES

A.J. Drenth. “My True Type”

Lenore Thomson. “Personality Type”. 

A.J. Drenth. “The 16 Personality Types”.

The 16 MBTI® Types https://www.myersbriggs.org/my-mbti-personality-type/mbti-basics/the-16-mbti-types.htm

Naomi Quenk, “Was That Really Me?”

[calligraphist-artemisia]

14 | Ritual

Written for Kidgetober 2020. Week 2 Theme: Myths & Magic. Day 14: Ritual.

Summary: Alternate Universe - Magic.  All Pidge wanted to know was who her soulmate was. And if all of her attempts at using divination to find out were not going to work for her, then she'd just have to develop her own ritual for it. Nothing could go wrong with that, right?

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune. Titled as “Magic of the Season”.

- - - - -

14 | Ritual

The Castle of Lions was the premiere magical institute of Altea and notoriously difficult to be accepted into even for the best and brightest. They only accepted a maximum of five students per year and Pidge was blessed to count herself among the four chosen in the first year she applied. It meant there was plenty of individual training and enough room for everyone to have their own space to practice and study their chosen Craft.

Pidge loved her room. It was a circular space located at the top of the western tower and came equipped with a bathroom that she was rapidly coming to appreciate. Three windows allowed light to filter in whenever she pulled back her heavy curtains and there was a door that opened onto a tiny balcony that was perfect for stargazing.

Most important, it was her space and she could do whatever she wished without worrying about being interrupted.

She was especially grateful for that as she prepared for her newest ritual, one designed to allow her to divine the identity of her soulmate. It was a concept that fascinated her from the first time it was mentioned by High Priestess Melenor, but also one that felt completely out of reach for Pidge because of one very big reason.

She was awful at all forms of divination.

And from all of her studies, the tried and true method of ascertaining the identity of one's soulmate was through some form of that magical art. There was simply no other way.

Pidge threw herself into the process, taking the time to break down all of the steps and test out a few different ways. She'd gone through a full month of mediation and attempting Astral travel, but found it nearly impossible to quiet her mind long enough to achieve that goal.

When it became clear that meditating wasn't the right path for her, she moved onto the various forms of scrying, starting with the classic crystal ball. And although she tried it with several different types of crystal, she didn't find one that she “vibed” with enough for it to actually work and gave up on that path after two frustrating weeks. She spent another week with a shallow bowl of water and a quartz crystal cluster. And then a round mirror. And then a piece of hematite lit only by candlelight.

All of that brought her to the decision that the only way she would succeed in her goal would be if she crafted her own ritual. She'd had moderate success with Dream Magic in the past and hoped that it could be useful for what she intended.

Pidge took every step that she could think of the ensure the highest chance of success. Her room was already cleansed after her last ritual, so she began with a relaxing bath with purifying salts and herbs and remained there until her head felt clear and light, her magical energy brimming beneath the surface of her skin in anticipation.

She slipped on a simple cotton dress and clasped a band of hematite around her right ankle to help keep her grounded through the process. Next came a circlet crafted from silver, which had a sun-and-moon centerpiece made of sunstone and moonstone, locked by a small diamond on either side. It centered neatly over her brow.

She was ready.

Pidge gathered up the rest of her tools and began to arrange them in the center of the room, taking care with each item and focusing on her purpose. Using a piece of kunzite, she carved her chosen runes into the proper candles before setting them down around her. A stick of sandalwood incense was lit last and she stood with the kunzite in her hands and watched as the smoke curled up into the air.

She breathed in and then released that breath, feeling her magic rise in answer to her call, before turning to the north to begin the opening of her circle, calling in each elemental force to request their aid in her ritual as she lit each candle.

With energy swirling around her, Pidge slowly sat cross-legged in the center of the circle and closed her eyes. She held on tight to her intent, refusing to stray to any other thought.

She wanted to find her soulmate.

She wanted to know who they were and where she could find them.

The candlelight flared along with her magic as her spell took hold. Pidge could feel the heat of the flames. The thickness in the air. The scent of sandalwood, heavy around her.

It continued to build, higher and higher, until the next thing Pidge knew the soft early morning sun was shining in through the windows and all of her limbs were stiff and sore from apparently passing out on the floor.

Pidge groaned as she sat up, blearily looking around and taking note of the fully-melted candles and the stick of incense that was completely burned out. The kunzite was still in her hands, held onto so tightly that it left behind marks when she finally let it go.

As she examined the indents it left, she noticed something else unusual.

Encircling her right wrist was some kind of band of silver ink that was no more than a centimeter wide, comprised of intricate spirals that formed some sort of pattern, but not one that held any meaning as far as Pidge knew. She studied it for a moment, her tired brain working to try and make sense of it all, but a knock at the door interrupted her and she quickly jumped up.

“Just a minute!” she called out.

Pidge hesitated at the edge of the circle and then stepped back into the center. She took a moment to steady her breathing and then went through the steps to close the circle, taking the time to thank each of the elemental forces for their aid. Only then did she hurry around and prepare for the day.

Cleaning up would have to wait.

Another knock and the sound of her friend, Lance, calling for her had Pidge rolling her eyes at his impatience. She checked her reflection and took an extra minute to remove the circlet and place it back into its box before answering the door.

“You have got to learn some patience,” she said before Lance could open his mouth.

“Hey, I'm not the one running abnormally late,” he responded. “You didn't stay up all night reading again, did you? I don't know how you lose track of time doing that.”

“Some of us came here to actually learn and study.”

“Ouch. I'm wounded. My heart!” Lance placed one hand over his chest and dramatically swooned. “Your cruelty breaks my spirit! And after I brought you breakfast!”

Pidge's stomach growled when she caught side of the cloth-wrapped bundle in Lance's hands. “So should I profess my undying devotion to you now or do you want to wait until there are other people around?”

Lance laughed and handed over the food as they left the tower and headed towards their first lesson of the day with Alchemist Alfor. He chatted about whatever came to his mind while Pidge devoured the sandwich and made reaffirming noises so he knew she was still paying attention. She finished it as they passed under the arch marking the potions and alchemy wing of the castle and, coincidentally, came across the other two students of their year – all-around sweetheart Hunk Garrett and his more hot-tempered friend, Keith Hawkins, who also happened to be embroiled in an intense rivalry with Pidge.

The two pairs came to a dead stop beneath the archway.

Pidge was in no mood to deal with him so early in the morning and especially not after yet another failed attempt at divination spellcrafting, so she pretended as though he didn't exist as Hunk and Lance jumped into a lively conversation to try and lift the atmosphere around them.

“Anyway, there's a note on Alfor's door asking us to meet in the Four Seasons Courtyard for our lesson today. That's why we're on our way back through,” Hunk explained.

“Lucky for us that we ran into you!” Lance laughed as he slung an arm across Hunk's shoulders. “Do you think we're gathering ingredients for something? Or does he have another lecture on how our environment affects alchemic equations?”

Hunk shrugged. “Guess we'll find out once we get there.”

The two walked ahead, leaving Pidge and Keith to silently follow behind them. Pidge used every ounce of her willpower to keep her mouth shut and not look over at her rival, telling herself that it wouldn't be worth getting into an argument right before class.

It was when they arrived in the courtyard that everything went wrong.

Pidge tried to walk towards Lance to sit with him like she always did but was stopped by Keith grabbing her wrist and tugging her back towards him. She whirled on him, a snarl on her lips, only to be interrupted by his own furious remark -

“What the fuck? Let go of me, Holt!”

“I am not holding onto you! Why would I, Hawkins?” she snapped back.

In unison, they glared at their wrists, each seeking to prove that they were right, only to discover that they were both wrong. There was nothing there, though Pidge continued to feel pressure around her wrist as though there was something holding onto her.

“Is there a problem over here?” asked Alchemist Alfor as he approached.

Keith tried to yank his hand away from the invisible force but it only served to make Pidge stumble forward and throw a another glare in his direction.

“Alright, alright. Calm down,” Alfor said before either of them could start speaking again. He, like everyone else in the castle, was well aware of the animosity between the two of them. “I'm sure this is someone's idea of a prank and we can get it sorted out quickly. Lets take a look at what's going on, shall we?” He held his hand out over theirs and murmured a few words. Within seconds, a twisted braid of gold and silver appeared around their wrists, with a short chain connecting them.

Keith frowned. “What is that?”

“Fascinating... I've never seen anything like it,” Alfor admitted. “I would wager that the silver is related to some form of soul magic, but I'm unsure of what the gold represents. Melenor would be the best to ask about this sort of thing, unless either of you has an idea?”

Pidge's blood turned to ice in her veins.

Soul magic.

It couldn't be.

Not him!

“He is not my soulmate,” Pidge refused, unaware that she was speaking aloud.

Keith's eyes flashed with something Pidge couldn't define and he tensed his jaw before responding. “Who would ever want you to be their soulmate, Holt?”

Alfor must have called for backup while Pidge wasn't paying attention, because suddenly Battle Mage Shiro was there and was hurrying them to Melenor's office while Alfor stayed behind to teach Hunk and Lance the lesson he had planned for the day. It was there that Melenor confirmed her husbands thoughts that soul magic was involved, with the silver strand representing femininity while the gold represented masculinity – a perfect balance symbolizing the bond between them.

Pidge had no choice but the tell them about the ritual she performed and how it was designed to reveal her soulmate, and from there Melenor came up with a plan to help them.

“You will live together for one week. If you cannot learn to get along in that time, I will undue the spell tying you together. I want to make it clear that you will give this your best effort. Magic has bonded the two of you together for a reason and I should think that both of you would endeavor to learn why.”

So there they were, in the brand new set of rooms they were being allowed to borrow for one week while they lived together, unable to move more than a few feet apart. Neither of them spoke for the first hour, until Keith finally sat down and refused to budge, his violet eyes hard as he stared up at her.

“I don't understand what your problem with me is,” he said.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Right.”

“I'm serious. From the very first day we met you've treated me like I'm the scum of the earth. What did I ever do to you?” Keith demanded.

Pidge opened her mouth to respond, but Keith wasn't finished.

“Imagine it's your first day in the most prestigious magical institute in the world and as you're leaving your first class you finally see your soulmate. And at first you think it's just another dream, like all of the others you've had since you were old enough to understand what a soulmate is, but when you try to talk to her it all turns into a nightmare.

“At first I thought you were just stressed, but that wasn't right, was it? Because you get along with everyone else in this school. Just not me. So what is it, Holt? What did I do to you that was so horrible that you need to turn every chance meeting into a confrontation?”

The hot flash of fury that Pidge felt when he first started talking dissipated the moment he spoke of his dreams. A heavy, cold weight settled in the pit of her stomach as her mind worked to comprehend what she was hearing. “You... you knew this whole time? Why didn't you ever say something?”

“What was the point? I knew it would only end in rejection. You proved me right about that earlier,” Keith responded. The heat was gone from his voice, replaced by a deep sorrow.

Pidge sat on the floor next to him and pulled her knees up against her chest, thinking back to her first week at the Castle of Lions. It had been a massive change from the rigorous structure and rules of the Galaxy Garrison where she previously studied and she remembered struggling to adapt to a new environment. It took her a moment to place when her first interaction with Keith, an event she blocked from her mind because it didn't seem worth remembering aside from it being the starting place of their rivalry. A rivalry she was starting to think was almost entirely one-sided.

She had volunteered to try and solve an alchemic equation Alfor presented to them and when she was finished, Keith was the first to speak up and offer a critique on her work. She remembered the flush of anger at being called out for making what, in hindsight, was a stupid mistake that spoiled the rest of her work, and then the embarrassment as two students of another year started sniggering to themselves over it. The fact that Keith completely snubbed her as they all left the classroom served to cement in her mind that he was challenging her intellect and from that day on she refused to show weakness.

She breathed out softly and pressed her forehead to the tops of her knees.

Had she really based their rivalry on a simple misunderstanding?

Had her time at the Galaxy Garrison really impaired her social skills that much? Lance was always joking about it, but maybe there was some truth to that.

The competitive atmosphere. The constant drive to do better and be the best. Maybe she carried that with her to the Castle of Lions and let it influence the way she interacted with her peers. She thought she was getting better at it with help from Lance and speaking with their instructors, but those first few weeks...

That first interaction with Keith, when he corrected her and then didn't say a word to her after that – so different from the Garrison, where rivalries were encouraged as a way to push one another to do better. That lack of acknowledgment for it made her feel as though he was looking down on her. Like she was unworthy of being considered an equal.

“Keith, I... I'm so sorry,” she murmured, unsure how to put all of her thoughts into the right words. “I don't know what else to say. All of this is my fault. Our fighting. This chain tying us together. I've never been great at divination and I've been trying for months to use it to find my soulmate – to find you – and after all of that I ended up making a spell and well... I guess Magic got tired of being ignored, so it found a way to make things more obvious for me. And here you've known all along! I can't imagine how that must have felt.”

She snapped her mouth shut and uttered another quick apology as she realized she had started rambling.

“I didn't mean what I said before,” Keith said after a moment of silence. “About how no one would want to be your soulmate? I didn't mean that.”

Pidge lifted her head from her knees. “I kind of deserved it. I've been awful to you.”

“And I was awful right back,” Keith responded, a sudden spark of passion to his voice as he twisted to look at her. “We've both said and done things that we regret. I'm not going to sit here and go over all of it when it'll only make us feel worse. Look, we're stuck together for at least a week, right?”

Pidge nodded.

“Then let's make the best of that time. By, uh, talking things through, I guess. I don't know how people normally do this sort of thing,” he admitted.

“Neither do I,” Pidge said with a grimace. “But we're smart. We can figure it out.”

Keith made a curious sound, but didn't voice whatever he was thinking. Instead, he stuck out his left hand to her – the one with the gold-and-silver chain clasped around his wrist. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Pidge agreed, grasping his left hand with her right.

The chain loosened ever-so-slightly between them.

[elizabeth-234]

Whumptober 2019

Previous Prompt Day Twenty-Five: Humiliation 

Hi Everyone! This was written months ago but got lost in my documents. I wasn't sure where to put it because I did write it for Whumptober so I decided to put it here!

Summary: Penny Parker is withdrawing away from everyone. No one knows what to do.

Alternative Day 14: Touch-starved 

She was infected.

That thing had attacked Penny. Penetrated its elongated pincers into her flesh, injecting it toxic virus into her veins, searing away everything she was. Months later Penny could still feel the creeping sludge beat through every cell, disturb every particle leaving nothing of the Penny Parker she once was remaining.

She could climb walls, hang upside-down like some creature of darkness. This was to say nothing of her strength. It was nothing she’d ever seen before. There were these rushes of power when she used her abilities, leaving her so ashamed that she’d succumbed to them again. But that twinge of exhilaration – of triumph - which left her stomach in knots was addicting.

It could all go so wrong. Someone she loved, May maybe, could be hurt… All because of her affliction.

Those thoughts left her bereft of sleep. She spent restless hours dedicated to finding out what exactly was inside her. What she was now.

Time and again she was left running to the tops of the city, needing a place to vent all her rage. Her screams wouldn’t bother anyone up there. Only the wind howled back, sometimes with her.

Penny could now tell anyone about the majority of known types of spiders and their venom if necessary. All other arachnid knowledge was on the table too but it would never help. It wasn’t like she could walk back into Oscorp and demand to see their notes on the experiment.

There was no Oscorp to walk into anymore.  

The problem wasn’t that simple. Nothing in her life was simple anymore.

She was changed, infected, and consumed with that thing. Would she become more dangerous? Worry gnawed at her every waking moment that she would hurt someone. Maybe it would happen through some newfound strength or maybe it would be through what flowed through his veins. There might be some accident and someone could be infected. What if they didn’t react the same and hurt them instead of making them stronger?

Like the venom her worries sunk into Penny, infecting her with another burden. She went from cringing back when someone brushed her shoulder and avoiding a handshake when Mr. Stark introduced her to someone to blatantly not allowing any touch. From anyone.

The worst day was when she rolled her eyes at May. Maintaining a cold tone in her voice she told her aunt she was too old for coddling and hugs. Her aunt’s expression haunted her while she cried in the shower after. Not even the scorching water was enough to burn away the memory. She even began sidestepping Ned when her friend begged to do their secret handshake.

Mr. Stark hadn’t noticed or if he had he hadn’t said anything. The man wasn’t the most touch driven person anyway. Pepper, though, would give her these lingering looks. At their weekly dinners her eyes followed Penny when she dished herself more or went to do the dishes. She was always careful to have someone set a dish on the table before she picked it up again.

Sometimes it was too much. The paranoia and all the disappointed looks haunted her, burning her no matter what she decided.

Patrols were the best way of controlling herself. It was all too easy to see herself truthfully when his blood painted his skin.  

She continued strong in her decision, squashing down the urges to tap someone’s shoulder or to hold someone, anyone’s hand.

It’s strange how you don’t miss something until it’s gone. Then when it disappears you are so grotesquely aware of its absence. Penny never realized how much touch was a part of her life before. Though on the more socially awkward side, which was normal May reassured her for her age, she was a hugger. And now she wasn’t. She couldn’t be.

Not even the criminals she fought against could touch her.

No one else deserved to be so alone.

-

“Are you alright, kid?”

Her pencil clattered onto the table as she was transported back to the lab. She was working on homework while Mr. Stark fiddled with some project of his.

“Yeah… Yeah, Mr. Stark. I’m fine.”

“You look like shit, kid.”

She ran a hand through her hair, hoping the blush she could feel creeping up her cheeks wasn’t so obvious to the other person in the room. If his smirk was anything to go by it was quite obvious. Mr. Stark took a step closer to her.

“I’m just tired today. No big deal.” She said flatly turning back to her work, holding her breath in anticipation. She winced at the steel tone of warning to crept into her voice.

Penny wasn’t sure what had gotten into Mr. Stark today. He was being especially obtuse or just didn’t see the annoyance in Penny’s eyes as he stepped closer again bringing his hand up.

The pen snapped in her hand, coating her fingers in gel. Penny dropped her head down to the table with a groan.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. Can we get back to work?”  

The week had been rough. She was going on extra patrols because she wasn’t sleeping well and she wasn’t sleeping well because she kept thinking about the extra patrols. Ned was mad at her because Penny bailed on one of their movie nights and even MJ was upset because she skipped a decathlon practice and might as well skipped the rest of them she was so distracted.

Now Mr. Stark was staring at her like he’d grown another head.

“Penny Parker giving out some sass? Now there is something I never would have guessed.”

Penny refused to look. She stared at the broken pen parts, willing them to go back to normal - to before.

Nothing happened.

“It’s okay, Penny. I’m just kidding.”

His hand landed on Penny’s shoulder and warmth ignited under it. Penny startled back, not realizing how close Mr. Stark had got, but the hand stayed firm.

She couldn’t remember the last time someone comforted her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed it.

Penny sighed and her body betrayed her. Her shoulder relaxed under the touch, the warmth spreading like the venom had, although this time it didn’t burn. This foreign sensation was full of comfort and all Penny wanted to do was turn around and throw her arms around her mentor. For a moment she let herself bask in the comfort.

Then her eyes snapped open, unaware they had been closed.

Her spine straightened and Penny all but fell out of the seat. She scrambled back until she was safe. All the blood and venom pounded inside her blood looking for an escape.

The ground became infinitely more interesting as she felt Mr. Stark’s eyes on her. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there but her breath wouldn’t slow from short, staccato bursts.

“I’m... I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.” She finally spoke having to stop and gasp for breath. “I think I should go.”

“Kid… What’s the matter? You can tell me.”

Penny shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself trying to stop any of herself, her infection, from seeping out somehow.

“I, please, can I go home?”

She heard Mr. Stark sigh and self-hatred coated the back of her throat.  

“Sure, kid. Happy will take you home.”

Penny nodded releasing her breath and went to get her coat. She couldn’t look Mr. Stark in the eyes and was through the door when she was called back.  Penny stared at her hands not wanting to see whatever emotion was in the man’s eyes.

“Call me if you need anything at all. Will you promise me that? It could even be for chemistry homework. Not that you need help with that but you know what I mean. I’m here for you.”

“Sure, Mr. Stark. Thank you.”

She spun around and marched out the doors running to the nearest alley so she could get to the top of a building. Her throat was hoarse by the time she was done releasing everything. The dry tracks running down her face told of her despair but they were gone by the time anyone saw her.

That night Penny avoided May, eating nothing and locking herself in her room. After she heard May’s light snoring she snuck into the bathroom to take a shower. The water rushed over her body, working hard to warm her limbs into life. Penny found herself turning the handle until it wouldn’t move any farther. Steam rose inside the shower curtain. Penny stared at the white tiles, memorizing their pattern until the water ran cool again. She was still shivering.

-

Pepper looked at him with pursued lips.

“What was I supposed to do? Force her to stay and share our secrets with each other? She’s a teenager and I don’t think I ever was one.”

She wasn’t deterred. Her hand reached out to grasp his and he turned his hand to lace their fingers together.

“She’s hurting Tony. You’re like a father to her and you should find out what’s wrong even if it’s hard.”


He froze. Their eyes met and he knew she was thinking about his own father. How difficult that advice was for him to hear.

“Of course, I want to know what’s wrong, Pep. I just don’t want her to feel like she has to tell me. I would never want to force the kid into anything.”

Her eyes softened as she looked at him, taking in the dark circles and patches stubble on his neck.

Weeks had passed since Penny stormed out of their work room and Tony was at his wits’ end.

In all his years solving problems, nothing and nobody had taking so long to figure out. He called May, feeling like a snitch the whole time. She didn’t know what happened only saying Penny was in more of a mood than usual. Tony was surprised to find out this ‘mood’ began around the time Penny would have acquired her powers. Ned’s phone was easily hacked into and so far, their communication was entirely one sided.

It seemed no one knew what was wrong with Penny Parker.

The girl was getting worse. Tony had caught a glimpse of her on some kid named Flash’s snapchat the other day. There were bags under her eyes and her movements which always were so careful and confident, now jerked in what looked like spasms. Like she was battling something unseen.

Penny was skipping out on their afterschool workdays which meant she was avoiding Tony. But what really threw him into a mood is when he found out Penny wasn’t coming for help after she’d been hurt on one of her patrols. The only evidence was an absence from the school the next day. That was the only way Tony knew something had happened and it made him sick to his stomach.

His days were filled with worry, which turned into planning and then implementing. His calls were being ignored so he talked through May. They found a therapist for Penny, making sure she knew it was optional. Both of them felt a flicker of hope when she went to the first meeting, even stayed through the whole appointment, but she never went back. May said she wouldn’t talk to her for a week after that. The tickets to a spa day had resulted in silence for two weeks.

His girl was pulling away from everyone, from him, and he was helpless to stop it.

-

Her hand snapped up to cover her mouth as a cough wracked through her chest. The webbing shot out of her other hand, swinging her around the side of the building. The cough died down and she gripped the rope of web with both hands, noticing a tinge of maroon tainting the material where her gloved held on.

Penny had to get home to her room so she could assess the damage. She could feel a piercing sting in her side with every rush of the wind against her body. At least the pain was distracting her for what a total shit show patrol was.

Trickles of liquid seeped out of her side and soaked into her suit. She looked down to see how far the patch stained the material. It was larger and misshapen, with tendrils going down to her thigh. Every burst of air, every movement in the sky on her escape through the city had her suit stuck to patches of her skin, pulling off in an obscene squelch. Back and forth. Stuck to skin and torn off again.

Her head snapped up as the back of her neck tingled. Not soon enough. A building wall rose up before her. Her body spasmed in response, arms flaying in the air trying to take purchase of the brick but they missed their target. Her side was bathed in pain at the unexpected movement and down she was falling. The air whipped up around her trapping her screams inside her throat.

She fell onto something with a thud. Metal dug into her side and she rolled over to find she was on the edge of a fire escape. Using slow movement, she tried to roll back over to the middle of the platform. The metal dug into her side allowing more blood to run down the side of her body. She fell back with a cry and lost balanced. Her hand grabbed the edge and Penny dangled there.

The metal was slick under her fingers. If she was in normal condition she could hang there all day. If it was a regular day she would pull himself up and be on her way. Unfortunately for Penny, the sweat and grim covering her face, the stabbing pain in his side, and the weariness ingrained into her body all pointed to a resolutely abnormal day.

Her fingers curled tightly over the metal grate, unwound and she was falling again. This time she uttered nothing besides a grunt on impact. She didn’t even have the strength to brace her landing. Her arm landed painfully underneath the brunt of her chest, trapped between cement and flesh.

Another groan slipped into the night, echoing up the bricks in the alley. Tears filled the creases in the corner of her eyes and tracked down her cheeks, mixing with the dirt and sweat already there.

She didn’t bother to wipe them away, not even when they blurred her vision. No one could see them under the mask anyway. No one could ever see them.

Her hand gripped the wound in a last effort to stanch the bleeding. It was odd, she thought. She couldn’t feel the bullet lodged inside her body, but all the same knew it was there.

Her thoughts turned toward the infection as they often did of late. It was much the same thing. She couldn’t see the infection. She still looked like Penny, still talked like her but underneath it all was deep and gaping wound. A bullet in the form of the spider bite, slowly eating away at her like lead poisoning.

“I’ve called Mr. Stark. Your heart rate is too fast.”


“No! Karen. I thought we agreed you wouldn’t call Mr. Stark unless it was an emergency.”



“You have severe blood loss.” She said and added when she went to protest. “You just ran into a wall and fell down the side of a building.”


“It wasn’t a straight fall. Karen, he shouldn’t be here. I – I don’t want him here.”

Karen stayed silent and she knew she wouldn’t get any more help from her. She couldn’t stay there any longer. Gritting her teeth, she tried to sit up.

The bones in her arm and ankle ground together and she collapsed back down. Water sloshed around onto her clothes and the puddle settled to ripples around her limbs.

“He’s on his way.”

She bit back a scream of annoyance. She didn’t need help. She was fine. Everything was fine.

Penny sighed and closed her eyes, tired of watching the water turn murkier and red. Her head spun and she could feel her heartbeat thumping through her body.

All she wanted to do was lay there forever, but that wasn’t right, was it? She had to leave. She was supposed to be leaving, going somewhere, but where?

Lights flashed from above blinding her as they got closer. A humming sounded and she wasn’t sure if it was coming from inside of her head or out.

“Penny?” Mr. Stark rushed over to her side, his hands hovering over her body to assess the damage. There was metal in the air on her tongue. “Kid? Oh my god. What happened?”

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” Penny snorted, grimacing as it reverberated through her torso. She cracked her eye opened to see Mr. Stark reach out again.

She couldn’t think straight. Everything was slowing up and then speeding by too fast.  She saw Mr. Stark’s hand descending down to her side. Cold ran through her body. It didn’t matter she was in her suit or Mr. Stark was in his. All she could think about was the blood covering her. The infection that would taint Mr. Stark. Someone who was good to her. Who cared about her.

Mr. Stark was going to…. Penny moved. She found her back against the wall, fingers sticking up the wall so her head was higher than Mr. Stark’s.

“Don’t,” she said.

“Penny, get down from there. You’re hurt. Do you hear me?”


“Don’t touch me.”

Mr. Stark put his iron hands up.

“I would never do that without your permission, Penny, but I have to make sure you’re okay.”

Her stomach strained under her weight. Another drizzle of liquid ran down her side.

“Penny come down, your tearing the wound open more.”

“I can’t, I can’t”

“Yes, you can. Trust me.”

She stared down at the man with large eyes. It wasn’t a question really. She trusted Mr. Stark with everything. She trusted him with her life, but it was herself she didn’t trust. She couldn’t trust. How did she explain that?

Fortunately, or not as it was, Penny’s fingers slipped against the wall in her lack of concentration. She fell forward as her eyes rolled back, covering her world in darkness.

Mr. Stark rushed forward. Penny felt her heart lurch and she was lost to the darkness.

Thank you. Hope you all enjoyed.

Taglist: @verdonafrost @whatisthou

[words-writ-in-starlight]

I'm a little late to the party but for the ask meme: Danny Phantom 5, 13, 14, 18, 20 + Trans!Danny headcanons. I know that wasn't on the list but I have a feeling you'll do it for me anyway ;)

MY NEWEST BOY.  For this ask meme!  Also thisgot long so I made a separate post about trans Danny because I care about it alot byeeeeee.

5)  Guilty pleasures

Barring times where he’s being, A, imprisoned, or, B, hunted forfun and profit, Danny actually—really likes the Ghost Zone.  It’s soothing in a way that he’s pretty sureis not quite right, in a way that Sam and Tucker and Jazz do not seem toagree with, but he likes it there.  Theslow, billowing curls of green drift through the air like nebulae, currents of energyrather than wind that he could drift on like thick water if he wanted, dottedwith doors and islands that orbit whatever passes for gravity wells in a skyscapeof ectoplasm.  Almost every touchstone inthe Ghost Zone moves, although most have a predictable pattern—about once everyten months, Danny tries not to use the Fenton portal if he can avoid it, onaccount of how it comes out practically on top of Walker’s prison—and learningthe rhythms of it is sort of like a hobby, at this point.  Danny doesn’t have a ton of time to kill, buthe’s figured out that, as long as he’s in ghost form, he can go for a longtime without feeling hungry or thirsty or tired, in the Ghost Zone, so onetime he told Jazz he was going to try his hand at cartography and spent theentirety of his parents’ five day out-of-state conference coasting on ectoplasmand trying to plot the place.  It cameout looking kind of like a star map, full of arrows trying to indicate movementdirection and a lot of scribbled notes like Pretty sure Clockwork moved thisand AVOID and Possibly Vlad’s portal, maybe close this.  

Danny doesn’t talk about it much, because the Ghost Zone makes hisfriends, his family, jittery.  He’s prettysure they’re worried he’ll decide not to come back some day.

13) What gets them flustered

One time a reporter manages to get a camera intoDanny’s face before he can book it after a fight, and she’s smart enough toalready be asking her first question before he realizes what was happening.

She’s also smart enough to start her first questionwith “Excuse me, Inviso-bill–”

“It’s Phantom,” he snaps,looking around in annoyance, and the reporter smothers a triumphant smirk.

“Yes, Phantom.  What made you become a hero,Phantom?”

Phantom just hangs there in the air for a moment, gapingat her, and then squeaks, “Excuse me?”

“You’re a ghost,” the reporter says, keeping aprofessionally straight face and a neutral, friendly tone.  “Whatmade you decide to be a hero?”

“I–didn’t?”  Phantom scratches a hand backthrough his hair, and the reporter silently thanks whatever quirk of ghostlyfunction is bringing a green glow like a blush to his cheeks and throat andears.  She’s going to lock down a raise with this interview, even if heflies off right this second–the first person to interview Amity Park’s ownsuperhero.  And he’s blushing.  “I’mjust keeping things under control, you know?”

The reporter grins.  “Well,” she says withfalse nonchalance, “would you mind answering a few questions?”

“Uh,” Phantom says.  “I have to–go.”

He turns invisible and makes a break for it,and the reporter’s fifty-second clip of a conversation runs on the local newsfive times in the next seven hours.  She gets a reputation for being ableto snag the neighborhood super for a few seconds, sometimes even multipleminutes.  She discovers real quick thathe’ll blush pretty reliably the second she drops the H word.

14) Ingrained habits/forces of habit

Danny works hard to seem helpless at school.  It kind of makes him crawl the walls, but he workshard, okay?  He lets himself getpushed around, he occasionally gets punched in the face, he does his best toconceal it when a year or two of ghost hunting as a full time job starts toshow in his human form, he spends a lot of time and energy projecting a façade oflocal hopeless wallflower.  He can’thelp seeming like a delinquent, given that he’s been living the C-average lifestyleby the skin of his teeth and misses about three class periods on a good week,but at least he can seem like a delinquent who would never, ever be a candidatefor competence.  He’s protecting a secretidentity out here.  Official Team PhantomPolicy, much as everyone might hate it, is that no one intervenes with Danny’scharade.  It gives Tucker hives and Samhas a hit list of bullies, but Danny’s always quick to smile off their concernand get on with his life.  He has ahealing factor and it’s been years since Dash was actually concerning tohim except as a potential stalker, Danny can stand to bite his tongue and take it.

Aaaaaaand then when he’s sixteen, Dash punchesTucker, instead.  Over some pettynothing, something that Tucker doesn’t even remember afterward—refusing to makea fake ID for him?  Laughing at Dash forfumbling a catch at the game on Saturday? Joking about how Dash’s grades were even worse than Danny’s?  It could’ve been anything.  It didn’t really even register with Tucker assomething worth getting punched over, whatever it was, but he guesses thatbullies can have bad days too.

So Tucker says whatever he says, and Dash whipsaround and sucker punches him, a swift hidden jab that only someone alreadywatching would see.  And then–

And then Danny dislocates Dash’s shoulder.  It’s not on purpose and it’s not subtle.  Tucker doesn’t really remember what happened—hewas a little busy gasping for air. Mostly he just remembers the crash of someone being slammed into a locker,and Danny’s voice, deep and un-Danny-like, snarling You don’t touch them,and a shout, a howl of pain and shock. By the time Tucker can stand upright, wheezing and clinging to Sam,every kid in the silent hallway is staring wide-eyed at Danny, skinny weakDanny Fenton who isn’t really so skinny and weak anymore.  Danny’s stepping back from Dash, who’sclutching at a shoulder that looks wrong under his letterman jacket, andDanny looks mildly horrified with himself, but he’s still standing betweenTucker and Dash.  

When the teachers show up, Danny goes quietly to theprincipal’s office, and gives a plain-spoken explanation of what happened—Dash punchedhis best friend, Danny slammed him into the wall, and somewhere in there hepopped Dash’s shoulder out of place.  He getssuspended for two weeks and detention for the next month, which he cooperateswith, and non-negotiable anger management counselling, which he mostly just…doesn’tattend.  Danny has decided that he doesn’tdo school counselling anymore, thanks.

After he comes back, Danny slips back into therhythm of things without any change in his behavior, but—it’s hard for everyoneto forget that they watched Dash’s favorite punching bag nearly put the king ofthe school through a wall.

Sam and Tucker enjoy a very peaceful remainder oftheir high school career.

18) Things they’ll never admit

Danny has not and will not talk to anyone about the accident withthe portal.  The actual events, yeah.  But he’s thought about it, and—they just don’tneed to know.  Sam already frettedherself blue over the Lichtenberg figure lacing up Phantom’s left arm to hisheart.  They don’t need to know how clearhis memory of being electrocuted is.

(Jazz watches Danny skirt around the Specter Deflector with abouta five foot radius of nervous respect, and she makes some educated guessesabout why, exactly, her brother doesn’t like being shocked.  But if he doesn’t want to talk about it, for once,she’s not going to wring it out of him.)

20) What Ifs/Alternate Timelines

I’m sure everyone and their cousin has done this but…I love Jazz and Danny’s relationship.  

So.

Jazz has been keeping an eye on herbrother for…ever.  This is partly becauseshe’s a worrier by nature and partly because their parents are both brilliantand affectionate and completely hopelessly scatterbrained.  Jack and Maddie are fine and all, but alsoJazz is frequently awestruck that she and Danny lived long enough to be able totake care of themselves.  Holy shitis she ever going to write a memoir.  TheChristmas I Re-killed the Turkey or something.  So when their parents are out for the day andshe wanders through the living room into the kitchen to see if the Nilla Wafershave been contaminated yet, and she realizes that she hasn’t seen Danny in fourhours, she starts looking around.  

Sam and Tucker’s bags are in hisbedroom, and all three of them have left their jackets by the door.  It’s a cool autumn, and Tucker complainsconstantly that he’s not built for the cold, he’s built for indoor rooms fullof computers, so they wouldn’t have gone out. The TV is off.  Danny’s room isempty.  It’s not dark enough yet forDanny to have dragged them up to the roof for stargazing.  

It’s about this point where Jazzstarts to feel like something is about to go horribly wrong.

She passes the door to the lab andhears Sam’s voice echo up the stairs, and then—

“Fine, fine,” Danny says from thebasement.  “It doesn’t even work.”

Jazz opens the door, already composinga lecture about not poking around in the lab (for Danny) and a lecture aboutremembering to lock the lab when they’re going to be out all day (for herparents), and starts down the stairs.

The crack-boom of the portalkicking on hits like a thunderclap, and then there’s a scream, someonewailing like they’re being killed.

Jazz never does remember how she gotdown the rest of the stairs, but she makes it just in time to see her brotherstumble out of the glowing green portal and fall straight through Sam’s armsand collapse into a pile of black-clad limbs and shocking white hair.

[briarrosescurse]

to introduce roza a bit more, here is her night raven college student card ! [source]

with this, i'd like to go into detail about roza, her abilities as well as her background! you can find everything under the cut, as i'd prefer to not clog up everyone's dashboard but i'd appreciate it if you'd take a look ! ♡

i was inspired by both @/prometheanglory & @/not-so-averageheight-feline to work on roza’s nrc card !! 

Name: Her first name is based off the word rose while her last name loosely stems off from the french verb 'dormir' - it means simply to sleep! Roza's full name is alluding to her inspiration, Princess Aurora a.k.a. Sleeping Beauty!

Dorm: Diasomnia! Truthfully, Roza doesn't fit the typical bill of a Diasomnia student if you were to compare her with Malleus or Silver for example, however, her magical potential was one of the main factors that led her to this dorm.

Year: A 2nd Year student! However, sometimes it's rather a surprise as, judging by her behavior, you could think she is a first year...

Message from student: Heavily stemming off a quote by Aurora in the movie! I purposefully left the second sentence to be vague - you could interpret this as her talking to the MC for example or perhaps even the four Diasomnia students. “We’ve met before, once upon a dream.”

Notes:

Crest: That crest she bears is not known to the public (unless you're someone born into a high position or just occupying a high position, such as fellow nobles or talented mages with a wide range of knowledge...), as the Dorimé family worked hard to keep that crest, simply called the Dorimé Crest, a secret. It not only indicates you're a Dorimé descendant, but that you also bear its curse. The curse is a rather vague concept, therefore there is not much to be said about it other than it had been cast upon the family many generations ago. It manifests itself in different ways, but usually shows a certain pattern: as much as it brings you fortune (whether it is in the form of power, luck, etc.), it'll be your misfortune.

For Roza, it brought her great magical potential - yet her powers are too much for a single person to bear and as a result, she is not fully in control of it. That causes explosive accidents for example. Only stronger, more experienced mages would notice that, at all times almost, Roza is emitting some kind of form of magic. Her powers are heavily influenced by her emotions, so to jumpscare her might be the wrong idea. (She is easy to scare; so you either might get hit by a lighting by accident or she'll scream and then pass out on you. Good luck catching her.)

Further than that, it amplifies her natural charm but also is the reason for her irregular sleeping pattern. She genuinely can't help it if she falls asleep during the bright afternoon for a few hours.

Family: Roza is the only child of her family and therefore the sole heiress! She would have had younger siblings if it weren't for her parents fearing for the worst. During Roza's childhood, especially during her earliest years, the family and its servants were observant in order to figure out how the Dorimé curse would manifest itself with Roza. When it turned out that she received powers that could not only bring herself but the people around her in danger, they decided it'd be for the best for her to grow up secluded and protected from the world. Her parents care deeply for their daughter but grew too protective of her. And so, Roza grew up sheltered, knowing now little to nothing about the world - other than having read (and sometimes listened) of others' experiences through books.

Her family is of nobility and very high in the rankings at that, too. They're more politically involved and thus, it wasn't uncommon for arranged marriages within the family. It may or may not apply for Roza as well, although that would speak against her own deepest wishes - her wish to find love.

Personality and hobbies:

Personality: Roza is a very loving and cheerful young lady! She aims to behave as lady-like, composed and demure as possible (as not only had she been taught to behave that way, but she felt inspired by the heroines of some novels as well), but often, she lets her child-like curiosity get the best of her. It's an, unbeknownst to her, urge to defy her guardians and follow her own path! She is very excitable and often very willing to explore and go on adventures, whether it's just something insignificant and silly or actually insightful and life changing even. Due to her sheltered upbringing, she doesn't know much about the world, having only a vague grasp on how it works and people interact and live together. Most of her knowledge comes from the plenty of novels she had read as she grew up - having only fueled her desire to meet the world and embrace it as it is - basically, she is rather naive but with good intentions.

Having grown up with strict homeschooling, she is also an earnest student and works hard to improve herself as well as prove herself to be worthy of Night Raven College. Pretty much a goody two shoes, but it's easy to drag her into trouble with you, if you were to cause some.

Roza is also a very emotional person which, as mentioned before, also influence her control of her powers. As she grew older, it became easier for her to keep it under control, yet hasn't fully mastered it yet. She was rather a destructive young child.

If I may so say - Roza is a bit of a heartthrob as well. Unintentionally so, however! Or rather, in other words, it's easier for her to draw attention to herself because or her curse. She finds it very difficult sometimes to deal with as she isn't used to it like this. Often she finds it hard to decipher whether it's positive or negative attention.

Lastly, Roza is a very devoted person, but I'll go into detail when I talk about the loyalty aspect in the grades part!

Hobbies: She doesn't have many hobbies because, as you can probably guess, there isn't much to do in a secured castle. However, Roza, while most likely not seeming so, enjoys to read quite a lot! Or rather, she had no other choice but to enjoy it. Reading all sorts of novels was one of her only ways to pass time when there were no lessons scheduled for the day. She read through basically almost all books of her family's personal library - except a few books she was prohibited to even touch or dictionaries. I won't deny that she did try to read a dictionary once... She fell asleep.

Other than that, she tried out a lot of things - baking (she burned herself) and sewing (she pricked herself, ironically enough) for example! She actually continues to sew from time to time but refuses to show the things she sews...?

Voice: I picked Satomi Satou as her VA! I was specifically thinking of Sheba from Fate/Grand Order, however perhaps a bit less excited? Alternatively, a good example of her tone would be Roon from Azur Lane (although... a little less crazy.)

Alternatively, her VA could be Sayaka Kanda! She voiced Anna from the Japanese Frozen dub. 'For The First Time In Forever' is a song that I find suits Roza quite well, even!

Expression: Roza speaks definitely more politely yet still has a very warm, friendly and inviting tone! (By feminine, I was specifically thinking of her using more typically feminine expressions if we were talking about how her speech pattern would be in Japanese.) And occasionally, she uses rather formal phrases out of habit. Makes her kind of sound like your typical clueless noble at times.

Physique: For someone her height, Roza is quite voluptuous. Very hug-able! However, if you think she is physically strong, you're off by a long shot. She is hardly athletic but for that, more softer!

Ability and skill: Most of that I've already mentioned before here! But basically, she has no focus in a certain field of magic but like her dormmates, succeeds in general magic the most! Her magical prowess is definitely very high tier, if we are talking about the strength and the variety of different attacks. However, for her they are still difficult to control properly. Physically, she is rather weak and wouldn't last very long if it came down to a fist fight.

Other than that, Roza is also (if we were to compare social, academic, emotional and practical intelligence) academically and emotionally intelligent! I'm not sure if you could put this into the skills category even, but I thought it might give a better idea of her abilities as a whole...?

Grades:

Concentration: 2.5

When it comes down to it, Roza is very hardworking and can put her mind into things! In class, she pays attention... as much as she can for someone who accidentally falls asleep and then wakes up again in the middle of lessons. Not only that, but she occasionally does get too excited and so, gets distracted. Well, at least she tries...?

Magic: 4.5

A very strong 4.5, for the reasons mentioned before already! Unfortunately, her lack of control knocked the score down by a bit. Surely, with a bit of hard work and time, it'll work out.

Intelligence: 4

So, as much as Roza can appear to be an absolute airhead (which she... kind of is?), she isn't an absolute idiot and can understand concepts foreign to her, primarily motivated by her curiosity, once properly taught to her that is. A lot of her time, specifically back home, is spent studying in order to achieve great scores. Further than that, Roza easily catches on if the mood in a room changes or someone appears to be e.g. displeased. She understands what emotion it is but has trouble to handle it properly due to inexperience. (For that though, she is more so eager to at least try to help.)

Loyalty: 5

A very solid 5! As I mentioned before, Roza is a very devoted person that it almost is borderline blind trust. She grows defensive quickly over loved ones. In general, she is someone who deems almost everyone as "good", amazing people! In the sense of "The world can't be that awful after all, right?"

If it were to come down to it, Roza would be actually willing to risk herself if it meant to please her loved ones. She is very trusting and very devoted, loyal! However, loyal to only a few certain people. Perhaps her loyalty may come off as quite strong sometimes, so it's a bit unsettling how casually she treats that.

Socializing: 3.5

She's always very eager to spend time with other people! It's fun for her to meet new people or just see her friends and be with them! However, her inexperience with socializing cause her to be rather socially awkward at the start, so that knocked her score down a few pegs. She tries! But sometimes a little too hard! Her first few weeks at Night Raven College were difficult times.

Physical: 1

A very measly 1, unfortunately. Like aforementioned, Roza is physically pretty weak and unfit. Roza isn't a very… sports loving person. Blame Vargas' lessons + the fact that, as she grew up homeschooled, sports had never been prioritized. Flying on a broom is quite the challenge for her!

Dexterity: 3.5

Pretty average score! Undeniably, Roza is a bit clumsy and sometimes, a wrong move and oops, she ruined that paper... Her fingers aren't the most nimble but with the help of continuously sewing as a hobby (she is awfully persistent about it), it had improved!

Vitality: 2

(I understood vitality in the sense of general energy.) Roza's score could have been a very solid 3.5, maybe even 4, as she is very energetic and lively person if excited! Almost endless energy like a child would have, a very outreaching spirit. However because of her curse, she sleeps a lot and often finds herself unable to stay awake due to sudden lack of energy. It's not always that intense, but it isn't rare for her either. It's truthfully really unfortunate as Roza herself is someone full of life.

Aaaand, that'd be about it! If you'd like to, feel free to check out this reblog here, as I went into detail there about Roza's relationships with a few others!

Thank you for reading! <3

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: the thing with feathers, ch. 8

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn & Yú Zǐyuān, Jiāng Fēngmián & Yú Zǐyuān, Jiāng Yànlí & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Fēngmián & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Qǐrén & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Yú Zǐyuān, Yínzhū, Jīnzhū, Lán Jǐngyí, Jiāng Fēngmián, Jiāng Yànlí, Lán Qǐrén, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén

Additional Tags: Transmigration, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Crying, Music, Nosebleed, Fear, Recovery, Nightmares, sharing a bed

Summary: A routine is established as Wei Ying recovers.

Notes: See end.

AO3 link

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

-------------------

Wei Ying was as flabbergasted as WangJi upon learning his sword was named Suibian, but then he laughed.

“I guess I couldn’t come up with a name,” he said with a shrug. 

This was later confirmed by Jiang FengMian, who told them Wei Ying had agonized over a name, creating lists for weeks, and when it came time he was so frustrated he had said, ‘Just name it whatever.’

“And so, I did. You laughed and laughed when you saw that, a-Ying.”

Apparently, Sect Leader Jiang had an odd sense of humor, one Wei Ying seemed to share.

“Just think,” Wei Ying said to WangJi later. “Cultivators will ask my sword’s name and when I say Suibian it’ll be fun to see their faces.”

WangJi thought it disrespectful toward a spiritual weapon to name it thus, but Wei Ying treated his sword with courtesy, taking care to tend and polish it regularly, even though he couldn’t train with it until he recovered further. 

He showed Wei Ying Bichen, and was pleased when his sword was complimented as being beautiful.

“Your sheath has silver patterns, like mine,” Wei Ying pointed out, seemingly tickled by the similarity. “Maybe we can spar when I’m better.”

The suggestion pleased WangJi, who had found as the Second Jade of Lan few people wished to partner with him to spar at Cloud Recesses.

The days settled into a sort of routine. In the mornings, shufu gave WangJi and XiChen lessons while healing music was played for Wei Ying. Often, he was asleep for much of it, still healing from his ordeal. The Jiang sect seemed to rise later than mao shi anyway. The healers always brought all of them a meal of congee when Wei Ying woke.

Wei Ying’s clothing had been brought from his room, and he was encouraged to dress after he’d eaten. Rather than wearing the blues and purples of the Jiang sect, many of his outfits had red and black as the primary hues.

“They were the colors your mother favored, and your father wore them when they became rogue cultivators together,” Jiang FengMian said when Wei Ying asked. “Your mother liked to wear a red ribbon in her hair. I thought you might prefer to dress in their colors.”

WangJi wondered if Wei Ying had retained any memories of his parents, but he didn’t ask. His face had gone thoughtful and sad at the sect leader’s words, his fingers touching the red ribbon that tied off his braid.

Once Wei Ying was awake and alert, he listened to the lessons enough to ask questions. At times, it seemed he had lost the memories associated with the information shufu was covering, assuming he had learned it to begin with, and asked the sorts of questions a complete novice might ask. At other times, his questions were pertinent, revealing a sharp mind and someone who had begun to learn the six arts and was excelling. 

WangJi was relieved when shufu patiently answered Wei Ying’s questions; during the argument with Sect Leader Jiang, it had seemed like he might decide to judge the boy harshly. He was glad that wasn’t happening. Shufu even treated him like a student, insisting Wei Ying take notes, which he did with a shaky hand that grew stronger, his calligraphy less messy as the days passed. An altered writing desk was brought for him to use without the need to get out of bed while he recovered. Eventually, he was able to start joining them at the table for lessons, his stamina recovering enough to allow him to sit without support for longer periods of time.

During the time between lessons and lunch, WangJi often practiced sword forms empty-handed in the empty space between their beds. The space was sparse, but that merely added obstacles for him to work with. Wei Ying watched or painted. He once tried to write a list of what he had remembered since waking, but became frustrated early in.

“It’s hard to remember what I already remembered and what I remembered later,” he said with a dramatic sigh, flopping back on his pillow.

“What matters is that you are starting to remember, Wei Ying,” WangJi told him, and was rewarded with a smile and a sunnier mood.

After lunch, which WangJi usually enjoyed in the infirmary with Wei Ying and sometimes Jiang YanLi, Jiang Cheng, and xiongzhang, the healers had a routine for Wei Ying to regain his strength. Much of it involved swimming, which the Jiang Sect healer insisted would help him rebuild his muscles more quickly. 

WangJi had listened with interest as the healer explained this to Jiang YanLi, discussing the added resistance of the water, as well as the ambient pressure compared to air. He learned from this that one should not swim too soon after eating. 

Sect Leader Jiang petitioned shufu, arguing the importance of proficiency in swimming for night hunts, and so WangJi and XiChen often joined Wei Ying in a pond devoid of lotus for the purpose of improving their skills. 

He was not particularly fond of the requirement that they strip to trousers, but they were told their heavy robes would only hinder their ability to improve, so he endured it.

Wei Ying seemed to have more energy in water, not requiring the help he sometimes needed on land. He was graceful and swift in the water, having remembered the skill very quickly. And although he tired quickly, he was adept at floating with minimal energy output, something WangJi had difficulty picking up. 

“Jiang Cheng says it’s because I’m full of hot air,” he chirped when WangJi mentioned it, then cheered at having remembered something new.

When Jiang Cheng occasionally joined them—a rare occurrence as he was often practicing sword forms or archery—he and Wei Ying occasionally devolved into splash fights. WangJi didn’t see the appeal, but they made Wei Ying smile and laugh.

By the time swim lessons and Wei Ying’s water therapy were over, the boy was often so exhausted he required a nap.

WangJi played the guqin for him as he fell asleep, and then practiced various pieces until Wei Ying woke, usually half a shichen to a full shichen later. 

Wei Ying often woke hungry, and WangJi found he usually was as well, likely from the exercise of swimming. They quickly worked through what remained of the gifts from the townspeople, but Jiang YanLi anticipated their need for a small afternoon repast, and brought various treats each day for them to enjoy. Some she modified for WangJi’s Gusu palate, as they discovered he could only handle a fraction of the spice used in Yunmeng, and far less than Wei Ying enjoyed. 

Jiang YanLi also brought music books from the Lotus Cove library at their request, ones for both the guqin and the dizi. WangJi discovered then that Wei Ying couldn’t read music—whether he had forgotten how as a result of the attack and his illness or had learned by hearing and experimentation, he didn’t know. 

So WangJi took it upon himself to teach him. Shufu walked in on his lessons once, and simply nodded approvingly, watching them work together for a while before leaving them to it. At the start, these lessons occurred on Wei Ying’s bed, but they were eventually able to shift to the table.

Wei Ying was a quick learner, and before long they discovered music they could play together. WangJi found that he enjoyed playing with Wei Ying as much as he did XiChen. A few times XiChen joined them, adding the more sedate tones of the xiao to the mix, but more often he left them to play together. Sometimes they played at the table. Other times, if he was particularly tired, Wei Ying was propped against pillows on his bed, and WangJi sat on the foot of the bed with his guqin. There was ample room, as the bed was meant for an adult.

XiChen, he learned, was helping shufu teach Jiang YanLi how to read music for the konghou so she could learn musical cultivation. Sect Leader Jiang had commissioned an instrument from a renowned local luthier, one that would befit young maiden Jiang’s station, and had in the meantime procured one more suited for a beginner for her to start learning. Once she had the commissioned instrument, she would name it and begin imbuing it with spiritual energy as he did WangJi and xiongzhang did LieBing.

WangJi wondered if perhaps he should ask Sect Leader Jiang or shufu if Wei Ying should also get a dizi that could become a spiritual instrument, as opposed to the child’s dizi he played now. Wei Ying played well, and musical cultivation would also suit him.

But WangJi hesitated to ask; while Madam Yu was clearly making an effort to be kind to Wei Ying, she had a tendency to compare him and Jiang Cheng, even with Wei Ying in the infirmary. 

They were little comments, but he could see the way they made Wei Ying cringe, how Jiang Cheng was surly afterward.

One day, she entered while Jiang Cheng was listening to them play during a break in training, and chided him for not learning to play an instrument.

Wei Ying took it upon himself to comfort the younger boy—he insisted on calling him Cheng-ge, claiming he was now younger because he’d lost his memories, a logic WangJi didn’t understand. 

“I bet you’d be great at the paixiao or the hulusi. Or if you want to try a stringed instrument, the ehru might be fun? Just not the sheng. Those sound weird.”

Jiang Cheng sighed. “Is it so bad if I don’t want to learn an instrument? I like listening, but I’m not interested in playing. A-Niang eventually plans to give me zidian, so I’ll need to learn to use a whip, anyway. Why an instrument, too? I’ve only got two hands!”

His disinterest in learning an instrument was a bit shocking to WangJi, for whom it had never been a choice, but Wei Ying took it in stride.

“You don’t have to learn just because shijie and I are, Cheng-ge. Just tell shenshen you’d rather start training with whips, then. I bet she’ll be happy about that and forget about the music. You’ll just have to train with her instead of listening to us or shijie play.”

The idea immediately cheered Jiang Cheng, and Madam Yu was pleased when he told her that night at dinner that instead of an instrument, he would like her to train him to wield a whip. She agreed readily, clearly happy he had taken an interest in her fighting style.

Every evening, one of the healers or assistant healers would help Wei Ying to the pavilion to eat with the Jiangs. As honored guests, shufu, WangJi, XiChen, and the other visiting Lans ate with them as well. 

Meals were different at Lotus Pier, with conversation taking place as they ate. Discussion of the events of the day: Jiang YanLi’s studies, Jiang Cheng’s training, Wei Ying’s recovery—often including recovered bits of memory. 

Dinner at Lotus Pier was a family time, and sometimes featured play arguments between Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying, mediated by Jiang YanLi as Jiang FengMian smiled indulgently and Madam Yu rolled her eyes and scoffed in mock-irritation. 

Shufu, WangJi knew, wanted them to adhere to the principles, and so the Lans never joined the conversation. 

In the beginning, Wei Ying was visibly wilting by the end of the meal, but as time went on his stamina improved, and he slowly was able to walk back to the infirmary with minimal assistance. 

Wei Ying was, by that point, able to bathe without aid from the healers, and WangJi usually took a bath at the same time behind a different privacy screen on the opposite side of the room.

Every night Jiang YanLi visited to comb and braid Wei Ying’s hair. Often, he played with the rattle drum and chattered while she did, and they made an effort to include WangJi in their conversations, something that left him feeling a blossoming warmth in his chest.

WangJi liked this routine; in the beginning he had expected being at Lotus Pier would be something of a hardship. But while he missed his home, he was comfortable here, something he hadn’t anticipated.

Always, by hai shi, Wei Ying was already tucked in bed and falling asleep, his day so full he was exhausted. Often Jiang Cheng or Jiang FengMian, or sometimes even Madam Yu checked in to wish him a goodnight with varying degrees of affection.

“Let us know if anything you remember upsets you, a-Xian,” Madam Yu said one night, a week and a half after Wei Ying first woke.

For a moment, WangJi wondered what upsetting things he might remember, but then remembered Wei Ying had lost his parents and had lived on the streets for several years. It was oddly easy to forget what he had suffered with Wei Ying’s good cheer.

“I will, shenshen,” Wei Ying promised. “I know you said bad things happened after my parents died.”

Madam Yu nodded, and for a moment hesitated as though she wanted to say more, but instead she patted his arm, wished him a good night, and left.

That night, WangJi woke suddenly around chou shi, confused at the interruption to his sleep. Then he heard soft sobs from across the room.

“Wei Ying?”

The room went silent. WangJi sat up and lit the candle beside his bed, rising to check on Wei Ying. He could see the tears on his face reflecting the light of the flame before he saw him. The boy stared at him, his breathing erratic.

“Wei Ying?”

“Lan Zhan,” was almost a relieved breath.

WangJi had little time to brace himself before Wei Ying launched himself from the bed and hugged him tightly. He was lucky not to drop the candle, and he almost chided the boy for the dangerous act before he realized Wei Ying was shaking.

“I’m sorry I woke you, I’m sorry,” the boy babbled.

He put the candle down on the bedside table next to the rattle drum and awkwardly patted Wei Ying’s back, trying to console him.

“It is no trouble,” WangJi assured him. “What happened?”

“Nightmare.”

From the way he was still trembling, it must have been a terrible one. WangJi occasionally had nightmares, but he’d never reacted this strongly to them. Wei Ying is clinging to him, his breathing ragged and terrified.

“I was falling,” Wei Ying croaked. “And I hit the ground and then there was darkness all around, but the darkness was alive, and it was swirling and there were voices calling my name. And then I woke up and it was all dark, and you called my name and I didn’t know if I was still dreaming.”

“You’re awake, Wei Ying,” WangJi told him.

“The darkness hurt. It felt real, Lan Zhan.”

WangJi remembered the conversations he’s overheard in the month, particularly the ones while Wei Ying was in a coma, about the dark resentful energy that had engulfed him while he was training and left him bleeding from the mouth and nose, convulsing and delirious with fever. He had never seen resentful energy personally; there wasn’t any in Cloud Recesses. But from the descriptions, this could be a nightmare that wasn’t a nightmare at all. 

Wei Ying could be remembering the attack, something the healers and Sect Leader Jiang and shufu will want to know.

But that was an issue to deal with later. Right now, Wei Ying was panicked and terrified, and that was WangJi’s main concern.

“It was a dream,” he told him anyway, not sure if he told a lie and not sure if he cared if it calmed Wei Ying. “You’re safe. We’ll keep the candle lit.”

When he tried to pull Wei Ying back to his bed, the boy resisted.

“I don’t want to go back,” he sobbed, clinging to him and burying his face against WangJi’s shoulder. “What if I have another nightmare?”

WangJi tried to remember how his brother would calm him after a nightmare. Sometimes it involved chamomile tea, but he didn’t know where to go for that, and he couldn’t remember ever being quite this distraught. But the other thing xiongzhang had done was stay with him, at least until he fell asleep, although sometimes he would wake at mao shi and he would still be there. He had always appreciated that.

“I will stay with you,” he finally said. “If you have a nightmare, I will be there.”

Wei Ying was quiet for a bit, as though considering whether WangJi’s presence would help. Finally, he nodded.

“I’m sorry for troubling you,” he murmured, sniffling.

“You are not troubling me,” WangJi told him, and realized it was true; he was more concerned for Wei Ying’s well-being than troubled by his behavior. “We will still leave the candle lit. That way if you have a nightmare, you won’t wake in the dark. You will see I am there.”

“Thank you.”

The way he said it was as though WangJi had saved his life, as though he was unworthy of his help, and it bothered him.

“There is no need to thank me,” he said, gently pulling him toward the bed again. “You are my friend.”

WangJi was relieved when Wei Ying let himself be tugged to the bed, when he smiled tremulously at being called a friend. The boy wouldn’t let go of him, even getting into bed, which made things difficult, but WangJi stayed patient.

Despite his clinginess, Wei Ying didn’t try to snuggle close as WangJi thought he might, but instead kept hold of his hand, curled on his side to keep him in eyesight. He realized it was not necessarily contact he needed, but the simple visual reassurance WangJi was there. He listened as his breathing calmed and was surprised when the boy fell asleep within minutes despite his earlier protestations—but the panic and fear had probably worn him out.

It took longer for him to fall asleep, but listening to Wei Ying’s soft, even breathing allowed him to slip toward it soon enough.

--------------------

Yeah, the dream totally was not the attack. Guess what it was!

Sheng are like a really bad version of the bagpipes, at least in my opinion. I do love the way paixiao and hulusi sound—they have a deeper sort of sound that would suit Jiang Cheng, in my opinion.

I have a few free weeks, so it seems I might be writing more during this time. This was largely written in 2 hours between 3-5am, just flowing out.

[alittlecstaticxilophone]

The Lucky Ones

Happy Holidays! This is a small fic I made for @lycorogue as part of the @mlsecretsanta, it has mostly Marichat with a bit of fantasy. I hope you like this and that you are having a wonderful time during the season!

Sumary: Marinette has been a peculiar child since she could remember, being unable to sleep since she was a child made her parents worried and her nights lonely. That is, until an unlikely visitor begins to keep her company revealing a truth that was kept from her.

Marinette could feel the air around her, it was easy to tell summer was already over making its way to autumn. The young teenager was on her bedroom’s balcony relying against a chair, sketchbook over her legs working a new dress she would probably sew later, if she ever did at all. It wasn’t entirely hard to see in the middle of the night, with a lamp with the shape of a flower lit on her side and the moonlight shining bright above her. It was a regular sleepless night for Marinette Dupain-Cheng; but they had been like that ever since she could remember.

That night in particular was sealed into her mind as the permanent memory of the first time she saw him.

He was a young man who almost made her scream the first time she saw him. He couldn’t be much older than her, or younger for that matter and jumped into her balcony, all dressed in black leather, with cat ears and a small bell in the collar of his suit.

Marinette’s first instinct had been to hit him over and over with her sketchbook her voice muttering a thousand different questions while he spoke playful apologies over and over again.

Once she stopped, he finally raised his tilted head and she looked into his eyes, too similar to those of a cat, but as green and eager and happy as they looked, they also seemed to belong to someone older, someone who had seen more than what they could tell.

“Sorry, princess” He had said, playful smile adorning his face “I was jumping from roof to roof, and when I saw you here under the moonlight I thought I found you, and I told myself I had to come, you get what I’m saying?”

It had been Marinette the one who had tilted her head next, as she lowered her sketchbook seeing as the stranger was virtually harmless. Goofy ecstatic smile on his features as his eyes scanned searching for a reaction from her

“You don’t remember me?” The previously cheerful tone of his voice dropped, and Marinette found herself feeling sorry for the blonde boy in a black-leather cat suit “I should have guessed it… People call me Chat Noir nowadays, what is your name, princess?”

“Ma..marinette” She hesitated to say it to him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Marinette. I hope we can become friends again” He extended his gloved hand to her, and Marinette took it, a smile slowly forming in her lips, blue eyes staring into the boy’s.

Months later a new boy appeared in her class, blonde hair and green hopeful eyes that scanned over the unfamiliar room. For a second, his eyes seemed to stop and focus on Marinette who shy, put one hair behind her ear and used her fingers to try and detangle her short pigtail. The boy, although briefly seemed to smile in her direction before continuing to scan the rest of the class.

Adrien, was his name, she overheard it when he introduced himself to Nino, this was later confirmed by Chloe who wouldn’t stop bragging about him and how he was a model and they were childhood best friends. Alya had hit her on the ribcage with her elbow as Marinette felt any previous good opinion she’d had on the boy vanish quickly, no good person could have tolerated Chloe for that long and still remain her friend.

“… I’ve never had friends, it’s all new to me”

Maybe, just maybe she had been too quick to judge.

.-.-.-.-.-

Seeing Chat almost every night, whether it was as Ladybug without him knowing it was the same person to who he was alternating between calling Princess and My lady or as Marinette. In both instances she rolled her eyes and laughed it off, not once daring to tell the boy that when she talked with him during the night and when he encountered him during the day, it almost felt like if it was talking to two slightly different people, during the day he didn’t have the same old look in his eyes.

“Maybe I can introduce Ladybug to you one day” he had commented one night while telling her the story about an akumatized baker, angry that Tom Dupain had won him in a contest. Marinette always listened to him attentive, despite knowing the story all too well. “I think you two would get along wonderfully. She’s pretty awesome, not as awesome as you Princess, of course, but she’s cool”

“Yeah, right” Marinette couldn’t help the blush that rose up to her cheeks as she playfully pushed him, he let out a heartfelt laugh.

“I mean it” He said standing on the balcony and walking on it like if it was a tightrope balancing his arms. Marinette rolled her eyes when he jumped down to her side, slightly leaning on her. “Sure, Ladybug is awesome, kind and heroic. But you, princess are all of that too and without super powers, not to mention super pretty”

“Stop it, you” Marinette pushed him staring at the full moon, there was no laugh coming out of him this time, and she didn’t realize that instead of looking at the moon above them he was looking at her, tender eyes and unfading smile.

“As you wish” He muttered.

The winter air was already beginning to feel above her pajamas, Marinette was wearing a sweater Alya had given her the Christmas of the year before.

“Any plans for Christmas, Chat?” She questioned, his eyes immediately turned to the ground.

“I don’t know” He finally admitted after a few seconds of silence “Maybe my father will have something planned, but I think the most likely scenario is that he’ll have something to attend and I’ll have to eat the dinner alone” He mumbled, Marinette scanned him looking for any clue that he might be playing a very unusual and unfunny prank with her. “Such a shame, I’ve wanted to celebrate Christmas for a long time and I’ve come to live with unreformed Ebenezer Scrooge”

“You could come spend Christmas with me and my family” Marinette didn’t think before the words came out of her mouth, but unlike most of her thoughtless rambling she didn’t regret this for one second, especially after his eyes lit up when he looked at her.

“Are you sure that would be alright?” Chat questioned. “Won’t your parents think I’m intruding in such a familiar event?”

“No one should feel alone on Christmas” Marinette said with certainty “You are my friend Chat, and I’m sure my parents won’t mind having more people over for Christmas, even if my friends include a leather-wearing superhero. They’ll be delighted to have you and meet you, I’m sure”

“You can’t take it back now, princess” Chat stood closer to her, his face nearly connecting with hers “How impressed do you think my future in-laws will be if I show up in my best Christmas sweater?”

“Yeah, right” Marinette laughed “Future in-laws, sure”

He took a step back and began discussing the details of the Christmas sweater he was going to wear and emphasized the importance of their sweaters matching. Marinette found herself laughing at his enthusiasm when he talked about a pattern of small black cats using the moon as a toy. For a second, when looking at him Marinette thought she was seeing someone different, same blonde hair, wearing a suit that made her think of fairy tale princes. She shook her head vanishing the thought that left as soon as it had arrived.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Marinette was taking a platter of cookies out of her house’s oven when the doorbell rang. Sabine was the one to walk to it, while Tom decorated a cake small green pine trees on the side of the round cake while he finished the details of the poinsettia at the top, a bûche de noël was adorning the table alongside the rest of the already made food.

“Oh!” Sabine’s voice resonated in the house, both Tom and Marinette turned to look at the open door where Chat stood wearing a Christmas sweater with the picture of a reindeer with a red nose and lights hanging off of it, he was wearing a Santa Claus hat and held three boxes of varying sizes on his hands, a somewhat excited smile on his features while his eyes scanned the room in an obvious array of nervousness.

Marinette left the cookies on the counter and rushed to her mother and her guest. In between saving Paris, making sure all the schoolwork was properly done and organizing her class’ Christmas party she had forgotten to inform her parents about the possibility of having a guest for the Holiday.

“Chat, you came!” Marinette said, taking the cooking gloves off her hands, she tried to ignore the curious eyes her parents were directing her “Please come in, let me help you with those”

“Good Evening Mrs and Mr. Dupain-Cheng” The blonde greeted. Both Tom and Sabine made sure to give an effusive greeting to the young hero, all while lifting an eyebrow at Marinette.

“He said he might be alone for the Holiday” Marinette admitted to them in a hushed tone while Chat sat on a corner of the table, swinging his feet and staring at the freshly made batch of cookies. “I thought it would be better to invite him… because he does so much for Paris, you know? We all should be thankful to him and Ladybug” She rambled

“Well, an extra guest has never hurt anyone, right Tom?” Sabine resolved, smiling at her husband

“Any friend of Marinette is always welcome in this house” Tom nodded, kind smile on his features.

Marinette made sure to give both of her parents a tight hug before approaching her guest.

“Sorry. We still aren’t fully done with the dinner, you can sit anywhere you want while we finish, I promise it won’t take long” Marinette waved her hands as she spoke. Chat tilted his head.

“You surely don’t expect me to sit while all of you do the work.” Chat said grabbing one cookie “You were too kind inviting me to your home, princess. Let me help you with anything I can”

“Have you ever cooked, Chat?” Marinette raised a teasing eyebrow.

“No” He sheepishly admitted taking a bite of the cookie, opening his mouth immediately trying to blow air into the piece that was burning his tongue “But this could be a good learning experience” He said with enthusiasm before swallowing.

“Alright” Marinette laughed. “You could help me decorate the cookies. First lesson, don’t eat them while they are still warm”

“You are so smart, princess” Chat leaned his elbows over the counter, resting his face over his hands.

Marinette observed how her father raised an eyebrow, this time amused while Chat placed both of his elbows on the table while Marinette instructed him how to apply the icing on the gingerbread cookies and watched with amusement how messy his results ended up being. They were well intended nonetheless, she was more careful and practical, providing the small gingerbread people with carefully tailored suits made of multicolored icing. Chat was doing his best, using the small people to create tiny scenes of theater to Marinette’s amusement.

Sabine and Tom began preparing the table, putting the meals across it, Chat’s eyes shone upon setting on the food he would have the privilege to taste. Marinette smiled softly taking off her apron once their work was over and watched her hands before adjusting the forming creases on her pink dress. Chat stared at her for a second, mouth slightly open.

“Did I stain the dress?” Marinette questioned, upon noticing his gaze looking down to the skirt she had embroidered with small red details.

“Not at all princess” He said, shaking his head, pink in his cheeks, a silly smile in his face “It’s just that since you were wearing the apron I hadn’t noticed you were wearing a dress. You look beautiful”

“Oh” Marinette said, her cheeks now in a similar tonality to Chat’s “Thank you Chat. Please, take a seat. Mom and Dad are done with the table, wait until you taste it, my mom makes the best Christmas turkey in all of Paris”

“I can’t wait” Chat murmured excited, taking a seat next to Marinette.

Sabine and Tom began taking food from the different plates across the table, Chat looked at the Turkey.

“Don’t hesitate” Tom invited “Serve yourself anything you want”

Chat’s eyes lit up immediately as he began to take the food that went as far as his arms would reach, Marinette laughed when, like a child,  he stared a little too long at something that was entirely out of his grasp and she took it upon herself to hand it to him.

“Thank you for having me over” Chat said taking a bite of the Turkey

“Any friend of Marinette will always be welcome here”

“My dad wasn’t around for the holidays” Chat began, observing their shocked faces “it’s okay anyways, the chef made me a good dinner. This is great though, your food is very delicious Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng, Marinette was great, this is the best turkey”

“I’m glad you came then” Tom said this time “How unfair it would be that a person who gives his time to save Paris had to spend Christmas on his own.”

Marinette gave a tight squeeze to Chat’s hand under the table, letting it go as quickly as she had grasped it. He stared at it in awe.

“Thank you so much. You three are very kind, I promise I won’t overstay my welcome”

“You are always welcome here Chat” Marinette was the next one to speak “No matter how annoying you can be”

“I’ll have you know, there are people out there who see me as someone very charming, princess” Chat put a hand over his chest feigning offence at Marinette’s words who just rolled her eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Of course you can accept them” Chat claimed, legs crossed over the couch, clasping his hands together “It’s the least I can do to properly thank you for welcoming me into your home”

“Kid, don’t you think this is a little too much?” Tom questioned

“I’m afraid Tom is right, Chat”

“It’s not too much. Please accept the presents, I insist”

The argument had been going on for a few minutes, since the moments Sabine, Tom and Marinette had opened the presents Chat had brought for them, A bottle of an expensive perfume for Sabine, a bottle of wine for Tom and a small box with a pair of earrings and a necklace for Marinette that Chat had initially joked it was a wedding ring. Tom wasn’t very pleased by the prank, but Sabine had quickly calmed her husband down.

With the sigh that came out of her parents’ lips Marinette knew they had surrendered. Chat seemed to know it too, because his ears perked up and a smile adorned his lips.

“I suppose I should leave right now” Chat began standing up from the couch. “You probably want some alone time in family and I don’t want anyone at home to worry if they find out I’m not there. It was… wonderful to get to spend the holidays with you, thank you, again”

Marinette stood up with him, walking him to the door of her house. They nodded at each other, smiling softly. She was the first one to take a step further, hugging the blonde tightly.

“Be safe, Chat” she murmured. It didn’t take him long to return the hug and he sank into it.

“Anything for you princess”

.-.-.-.-.-.-

Adrien threw himself onto the bed, de-transforming, Plagg flew by his side before rushing to where the cheese was kept. The young teen now devoid of the mask stretched in the bed, as if he was to sleep until the next morning, but instead he laid in bed, eyes wide open staring at the ceiling above him. The black kwami flew to him floating by his side.

“You took quite the leap of faith with that letter kiddo”

“I know Plagg” The teen said turning over and sinking his head into the pillow. It came out muffled. “She won’t believe me”

“And you won’t remember during the day. You got yourself into quite the mess kid, you humans are such fun” Plagg, this time Adrien let out an amused smile before throwing the pillow at the Kwami who avoided it.

“Do I have to remind you I’m not human?”

“As long as I have to remind you I’m older than you anyways” Plagg shrugged, taking a bite of the cheese he held between his hands while Adrien stood up from the bed holding the pillow between his fingers dragging it back to bed. “Have you ever thought about what would happen if she actually finds the letter and reads it?”

“Nope” Adrien shrugged “I guess we’ll have an answer to that when it happens”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Marinette tinkered with the necklace Chat had given her between her fingers, she was already wearing her pajamas as she laid in bed. A small part of her had hoped the young hero would be at her balcony, ready to stretch the Christmas fun a little longer.

Tikki flew over her head, looking at the necklace attentive, Marinette had been impressed by it when she first saw it. It had the shape of a moon and sun necklace, the moon was made out of silver and covered in small blue jewels that made it look like broken crystal, the sun was bright and golden.

“It’s a nice present” The small kwami checked it from up close “Chat must have struggled a lot to find it”

“Chat is too sweet Tikki” Marinette said playing around with the necklace until the sun opened in half. “Tikki I broke it! This can’t be… there must be a way…”

Marinette’s eyes followed the kwami who reached over to pick a carefully folded piece of paper that had fallen out of the necklace.

“I don’t think you broke it Marinette” the kwami laughed, handing the piece of paper to Marinette who held it between her fingers. “It was supposed to open”

The teen unfolded the letter and began to scan its content, eyes widening.

-.-.-.-.-.-

An Akuma began creating havoc in Paris the following morning, a small child, furious he hadn’t been given exactly what he wanted on the Christmas morning. Ladybug wished Hawkmoth had been kind enough to let the festivities go free of akumas, but since he had previously tried to akumatize Santa Claus, she should have known the unlikeness of the event.

“Good Morning, my Lady. Has your Christmas been good?” Chat greeted standing at her side for a quick conversation between the two heroes.

“Good Morning Chat” Ladybug greeted back trying not to look to the boy, the contents of the letter fresh in her mind. No matter how much she wanted to talk to Chat about it, they had more important issues to attend at the moment. “It’s been great, and yours?”

“Certainly better than his” He said pointing at the kid who had taken the shape of an angry elf and was now turning whatever he touched with a wand into a toy he would then throw around Paris.

Ladybug rolled her eyes rushing to the kid, trying to contain his anger or at least prevent him from continuing to throw cars to the helpless people who were fleeing the scene as fast as their feet would allow.

“Be a good kid, will you?” Ladybug pleaded, catching a car with her Yo-yo

“Miraculous!” The kid said rushing to where the heroine was, holding an object with the shape of a magician’s wand in his hand.

“I guess it’s my turn to try” Chat smiled when Ladybug reached his side. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, holding his staff in his hands. “Hey! Kid! How about you give us wherever the akuma is and in exchange, we won’t tell your parents and give you candy, how’s that sound?”

“Kitty! Miraculous!” The kid repeated.

“Aren’t you a wonder with kids” Ladybug mocked

“I’m usually better than this, why Milady, would you like to start a family?” Ladybug’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink.

“Stop joking around” She sentenced as soon as their feet touched the ground avoiding his gaze “We need to… watch out!”

Ladybug pushed Chat out of the way, in perfect timing so none of them would be touched by the kid’s wand.

Or so she thought.

As Chat opened his mouth to speak, he felt his limbs going rigid. His suit beginning to be filled with golden details, the mask remaining over his face as every part of his body froze until he was no longer able to move.

Ladybug felt as if time had frozen in front of her. Amongst all the times Chat had jumped in front of an akuma, he had always remained at least a fraction of himself, seeing him so stiff felt unnatural.

“Who are you?”

“A young man, I’ve come to meet the princess”

“What business could you possibly have with her?”

“I want to get to know her”

“Why is that?”

“I’ve heard about her beauty, but when I saw her she seemed a little lonely, I came here to be her friend”

“Why would I need a friend like you?”

“Why wouldn’t you, Princess? I can warranty hours of fun, if you can take it. I’ve been told my sense of humor is unparalleled. Some might say it even reaches the stars”

“Lucky Charm!” Ladybug screamed, regaining her senses. Now she feared the letter had affected her, when it mustn’t had been more than a tale. She stared at the wand and the Christmas lights that fell in her hand and began to stare at her surroundings, piecing everything together.

“How did you even get here?”

“I told you milady, my prowess knows no limits”

“You can’t even stand. You need to go back, it’s no safe. You could… No, please. Return to your castle”

“I needed to see you, princess”

“I want to see you too. Not if it costs your life. The price shouldn’t be your life”

“Miraculous Ladybug!” She threw everything in the air, and the whirlwind returned things to normal.

Chat quickly regained his usual appearance, standing on his two feet rushing to where Ladybug was.

“Like usual, you did it!” He congratulated, holding his fist for her to hit. She stared at him, eyes filled with tears, and instead went for a hug.

“I’m glad you’re back kitten” She mumbled.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Dear Mari Princess:

I don’t know how long it took you to find this letter, but I think it’s time I speak to you with the absolute truth, no that I ever lied to you, of course.

And before you throw this letter, no, I won’t tell you my real identity.

Kinda

I’ll tell you my story first, before I tell you what I recall of your own. You should remember on your own, and you might not believe me, but I hope you do Marinette, I really hope you do.

I’m sure you noticed, that, like you, a good night’s sleep and I have never been particularly friendly. When the position as Chat Noir, the handsomest he was offered to me, it was freeing in a way you can’t imagine. I no longer had to stay until late hours at night staring at a high ceiling waiting for the morning to come, tormented by the memories.

Memories that only come to me during the night time.

This is where you enter princess, because these memories belong to both of us and I want to share them with you, because you deserve to know too.

It was a long time ago, you were a princess, I still don’t understand why you didn’t have a more fitting title like queen since there wasn’t any higher authority than you, I was a king, we were both fairly young for the titles we held, we were given the duties of the moon to you, and the sun for me. My duties were mostly to make sure the sun kept shining constantly, ensuring that my people were fine.

The thing I remember the clearest, was the first time I saw you.

It was one eclipse, the moon moved in front of me, it was my first eclipse as the king and I was nervous. I only saw you casually, you were also peeking through the window, I could tell but when my eyes crossed yours, I truly thought you were the prettiest girl I had ever seen. I still do.

Someone later told me who you were, the moon princess. One night I snuck out of the palace and arrived at your own, I still remember how instead of kicking me out or telling me that I should be loyal to my duties you invited me inside because you thought I was a lost traveler and it had been a long time since you’ve met someone new. You didn’t believe me when I told you who I was.

I can’t point out the exact moment it happened, or what caused it. I just know that before I knew it, I tapped my feet every moment I spent waiting for the moment I would get to see you. We were happy, we truly were. It took me a while to muster the courage to confess and you told me you felt the same but could didn’t want to give up your duties and kingdom for love. I would have never asked you that.

We were happy for a while, until others found out, I don’t know who could have told them. Their voices were loud, disapproving and hateful. They acted as if we had committed a crime.

They gave us guards under their command, but we still managed, we still figured out ways to meet, eclipses became more constant than what nature permitted, all for five seconds where you could be in my arms. They decided if we wouldn’t step apart on our own, they would make us. Then, we each were cursed to never leave palace doors, and even inside a guard was always with either of us, there was no solution in sigh.

You made a solution, the shooting stars were entirely your invention. Small golden boxes in which you stored letters for me, and I sent them back to you the same way. It wasn’t nowhere as good as seeing you, but it was something.

Until you sent what you swore would be the final letter asking me to not return the star with another one because it would be intercepted. I decided enough was enough so I decided to leave the castle inside the star, unaware of the consequences it could bring.

I don’t want to sugarcoat it, but I nearly died. I fell tumbling into your bedroom princess, leaving my castle left me weak, you cried, saying there had to be a way, claiming how unfair it was when we had done no wrong. I tried to assure you I was going to be fine, now that I had seen you for a few seconds I could return. But you had this determined look on your face, such a unique and beautiful sight and said that if they didn’t want to understand you would make them understand.

The next moment I woke up there was a full moon on the sky and I no longer was with you, nor in your bedroom.

These memories aren’t with me during the day. When the sun is high, I live my normal dairy life.

How ironic, isn’t it? The prince of the sun only remembers during the night.

I don’t expect you to believe me, but please Marinette try, I’m telling you the truth.

I hope you don’t hate me after this

Chat Noir

Marinette had been reading over the letter’s content multiple times, even reading it out loud to Tikki to see if the kwami could make any sense out of the content, but beyond confirming the existence of a moon princess the kwami had refused to say anything else to the teenager.

Now, as nighttime approached, Marinette found herself pacing on her bedroom. Confronting Chloe at the beginning of the school year had felt easier than she was about to do. She still had the hope it was a very elaborate prank in which case, she would throw him off her balcony he would land on his feet anyways.

“You need to calm down Marinette” Tikki suggested “Why don’t you continue working on that dress you’ve been making? I’m sure it’ll look great once you are done”

Marinette smiled.

“Thank you for trying Tikki, but I don’t think…”

There was a soft knock, Marinette stopped the path she had created in her bedroom to look above her.

She took a deep breath, Tikki hugged her cheek for a second before flying back to her usual spot. Chat was on the balcony, tiptoeing on the railing. Marinette questioned if it was a good idea to question him on the letter, after all, it could be nothing but an elaborate prank on his part. Then, she would throw him out of her balcony, cats always landed on their feet after all.

The issue was, the things it made her feel were far too real for her. and the voices had nearly been an inconvenience during the fight early on the day. She wouldn’t have considered the veracity of it if it hadn’t had the ghostly feeling of a memory with it.

The letter was crumpled on her hand when she opened the trap door to meet him. The sound of the opening door made him lose his balance for a second, before he regained his posture jumping off the railing to the inside of the balcony, a confident smile on his face.

He opened his mouth for a second, ready to talk, yet, noticing the expression on the girl’s face he took a step back, a small ghost of a smile in his face.

“You read the letter, princess” It wasn’t a question.

“How much of this is truth?” Marinette was quick to ask, Chat leaned against the railing.

“Every word” He assured “I swear on all the lives I have left”

“Why tell me now?”

The question left Chat speechless, and he meditated his answer for a second.

“If I had a secret past life and knowing it would explain something about me, I would like to know about it”

“What about your civilian self, wouldn’t he like to know?”

“I told him already.” Chat smiled “I left my kwami instructions and I left him a letter today. Hopefully, when he wakes up I will no longer feel disconnected from him” There was something hopeful about his voice. “Have you remembered anything?”

“Voices, mostly” She admitted, after meditating her answer for a few seconds “I heard them for the first time today. They were… inconvenient”

“What did the voices say?” His voice was filled with curiosity.

“A lot” Marinette didn’t say anything else, and Chat couldn’t entirely gather up the courage to ask. “Let’s assume this is true, and I believe you…”

“Don’t you?” Chat pouted, and Marinette rolled her eyes pushing him softly.

“What will happen afterwards?” She mumbled “They won’t be very happy to receive the two people who defied every single rule know to them”

“Something tells me they already got over it” Chat shrugged, confident smile on his.

“How can you be so sure?” Marinette pried

“It’s my feline instinct. Plus, I remembered when I was here and you are in that path, I think. I’ve seen them give many punishments, this is not one of them, I’m sure”

“Very well” Marinette muttered, unsure of what else she could say.

There was a moment of silence between them, filled with glances to each other, never catching each other’s eyes

“I must say” Chat began, catching Marinette by surprise “I do have a question princess”

“What is it?”

“Do you have any feelings for me?”

“Chat…” Marinette’s face was bright red after the question

“No, I don’t mean it like that” He quickly moved his hands and took a step back, smiling “Truth is princess, I do have feelings for you and I’ve been hoping you’ll fall for my wonderful sense of humor, but I don’t want you to think just because we have some history together you have to have feelings for me now”

“I don’t know” Marinette sighed, defeated “I used to like this guy in my class, but now…”

“Now?” Chat urged.

“Now I’m not entirely sure I just see you as my friend”

Chat’s smile grew wide as he ran to Marinette lifting her off the ground.

“Wait!” She said, but couldn’t contain the laughter that escaped her lips as he spun her around.

“What about your civilian identity?” She questioned the second she was able to place her feet on the ground holding onto the railing.

“Do you want to know it? Plagg cl…”

“Wait!” Marinette stopped, earning a chuckle from the boy “Not right now”

“I’ll take that as an open invitation, I’ll let you know who I am princess. When the time is right, that is.”

Marinette kept the promise in her mind, thankful the hero hadn’t told her his identity, while she still pondered on the possibility of telling him her own. The truth was, she wasn’t entirely ready for that, but she was sure someday she would be.

Chat began talking about all the things they would someday get to do and the things they had already done. Marinette listened to his tale until the boy decided it was time to go, he then placed a kiss on the girl’s cheek before leaving. She stared at him until his shape got lost amongst the Parisian night.

.,-.-.-.-.-.-.

The first day after Christmas break, Marinette walked into the classroom, taking off her scarf when the warmth of the inside of the classroom reached her cheeks. She saw Alya greeting her from their seat out of the corner of her eye. Taking a step towards her usual spot, she then found herself stumbling forward.

Bracing herself for the fall, she looked up to see Adrien smiling at her.

“You need to be careful, princess” He whispered.

A smile reached Marinette’s lips as she stood up straight holding Adrien close.

[handmadecp]

‘Leaf’ Pouch, full Build along.

Hi guys, This week I’ve been busy with lots of little projects, all of which I will show on here all in good time. Also busy right now trying to go Self Employed with this which takes forever to sort out here in the uk because there ‘is’ help...but not much and what there is takes a long time to get, anyhoooo, moving on to the fun stuff. Some of you may have seen a few W.i.P’s added to keep you all up to date on whats actually going on, I hope you are enjoying the short snap shots through out the week, I thought it might grab your interest and also just to give you a quick taster of the coming blog.  So here it is, the ‘Leaf’ pouch build. This build is ok to try if you are a beginner...but probably more suits people wo have had some experience with stitching, dying, cutting with a swivel knife and tooling. I am now four years into my Journey into this amazing craft but still learning new stuff all the time, so although there will be projects that may seem a bit advanced for Beginners, I will still be alternating between the ‘Beginner’ projects, intermediate and advanced ( As I learn more I will share.) So , lets get on. I First Purchased for about £3.50 (Uk) from a great Lady goes by the name of ‘Downtoearthcreations’ you can find her on Youtube she is a prolific maker and sells some great patterns and has build along tutorials I’d advise you to go have a look, I then down loaded the Pattern.

First go to Downtoearthcreations on youtube, find the Leaf bag tutorial video and the purchase this pattern, it’s not expensive and is very easy to follow.

I then cut all the pieces out as shown here and stuck them together where needed with decorators paper tape....why?...coz that’s what I had, no other reason. then Transfer the pattern shapes to the leather of your choice, I used a 2-3 mm veg tan, it takes tooling well, but just be careful, it’s not very thick, don’t press the swivell knife too hard or else it will go right through, how do I know this...guess. Well that’s not hard to guess, Yes I cut through my first one, I’ve always said I will mention successes and failures on here, it’s the only way to learn I think.

For any really ‘New’ people who maybe don’t know yet what ‘Casing’ means I’ll quickly explain, it just means ‘wetting’ the leather to a ‘certain’ point of saturation..NOT..completely saturated as you might do for wet molding, but that’s a whole other thing. so for now just wet it evenly, whenever I wet leather I usually wet it all over , even the areas that I won’t be tooling, I have learned from other more experienced folk that if you only wet the area you need, you can end up with a ‘tide’ line and the water actually does darken the leather so when you come to dye it the will be a difference in shade between the area that was wetted and the one that wasn’t. some people don’t mind it...but personally, I wet it all over, your choice. Then you have to leave it until it almost looks dry again, then it’s ready for cutting and tooling. First you need to draw your veins on the leaf, you can free hand this part if you are confident enough or trace the given pattern with a ball point stylus tool or similar to get the pattern on the leather, then, use the swivell knife to cut in your design, adding any extra veins or cuts you might like. Take a Pear shader tool as shown above and using the bigger edge..’smash’...in a controlled way...the edges of the leaf as shown above..

Here you can see how I’ve gone all around the edges and basically flattened them, also here the ‘veins’ have been cut into the leather it’s now ready to tool it. You can leave it exactly like this as it will still look great but for a little extra ‘depth’ to the design I’m tooling mine.

Here I’ve decided after several ‘Coats of Looking at’..that I wanted the veins to really stand out so made a second cut as seen here,

Once the veins are all tooled with the beveler (Number B802) I dampened it a bit more..not a lot as before because it still retains some moisture and I just want to mould it a bit not soak it. (This molding is completely different to ‘Wet Molding’ as such, as with wet moulding you are shaping pouches and bags etc...this is just a thin leaf. If you do think you have over watered it, just leave it to dry off for a while at room temprature, don’t try putting it in the oven or under the grill or using a heat gun..as you will make it solid and brittle...again..yes..I know because I’ve done just that in the past, luckily..I do learn from my mistakes. I then manipulates the leaf into a more acceptable shape, I did this several times before getting a shape that pleased me.

Look closely you will notice I added some small ‘cuts’, just my own preference, you decide what you want if making one of these yourself.

I Layed down lots of paper, got myself gloved up, had some paper towels and old cloths handy, a small tub of water and a sponge, then I got out the Gel Antique dye, made by Eco-Flo. I decided on a Dark Brown. Couple of things here if you’ve never used Gel Antique dyes...firstly get some gloves on because this stuff will dye you and take weeks of hard scrubbing to get off. secondly, this is expensive stuff..for a reason, it actually works. I love it, but you have to get a whole bunch of it on your sponge to then spread it on your piece in circular motion as fast as you can..because then you need to get off the eccess with your towels, the reason is because the antique dyes go darker the longer its on, so get it on...get it off, if not dark enough for you then repeat until it is. this stuff also buffs up really nice. A good video on YT to watch is by a guy called Chuck Dorset at Weaver Leather Craft , go watch him first if you’ve never done this before. If it all looks a bit dark when you’ve finished don’t worry, antique gel dyes can be toned down by wiping with a ‘Damp’ cloth or sponge until it is a shade you like. You also don’t want this stuff on your clothes or furniture...you have been warned ( hahahaha ). Good luck...the  results are worth it.

See how it’s getting lighter as it dries out.

I Like to use a piece of Canvas cloth to buff up my projects, it almost Burnishes them as seen here. note how I’ve twisted some of the ends of the leaf points, the Lady at Backtoearthcreations taught me that neat little trick on her YT video...once again..I advise you go have a look you’ll enjoy it.

So now we need to think about the stitch holes, I’ve used quite a wide gapped stitch iron as you can see on the following pic’, this is so that when it’s stitched we get the ‘style’ that I want. keep going you’ll see at the end. First I put stitch holes in the front piece, then laid that in position and made the first four holes just to give me the opposite position. I did use a Divider to draw a line to keep my stitch holes straight if you zoom in on the next pic you can see the line, this will be hidden by the thread when finished.

I have also made a strap loop which comes with the pattern, my advice...make it slightly longer so that a 2″ belt will fit through it. it’s ok as is...if you just rivit it ‘flat’ but if you want the extra ‘look’ you get from bending the strap over as shown here it can get a bit tight...your choice. I used a couple antique brass rivits top and bottom to hold it in place. Oh..nearly forgot, by this stage I had already coated with resolene to ‘fix’ the dye, but I guess you can do it at the end too. I dyed the flap side of the pouch on the inside dark because if you twist the leaf points you can see the ‘flesh’ color, didn’t want that, but I left the inside of the front peace ‘flesh’ colored and untouched so that when searching in the pouch in bad light it helps to light the inside of the pouch a little, just another little tip I got from someone far more experienced which I’m happy to pass on to you. I would have left it all flesh colored if not for the leaf points.

I decided to use an antique brass snap stud as a fastener for this pouch, so punch the hole BEFORE you start putting it all together...it’s just easier. ( guess how I know ???...hahahaha...yup you guessed it..what can I say..I didn’t have people pointing this stuff out to me, but hopefully by sharing my mistakes it will save you from doing the same thing..)

Not everyone has a snap stud fitting machine but the hand tools are easy to learn.

Starting to look like a pouch a bit more now.

So, all the pieces are almost ready, just the Gusset to make now, I chose a soft leather in Maroon color as seen here, again I drew a line about a quarter inch in as a stitch hole guide. The gusset section is deliberately cut a bit longer than needed and will be trimmed once done.

Finally it’s time to stitch it all together, I chose a veg tan flesh colored Lace and I had to stitch it all by hand with nothing more than a scratch awl to widen the holes. ( As I didn’t have the necessary Flat Lacing needle at the time ) but I personally enjoy stitching without a needle. so, I lined up the gusset, at this point you may do well to have the ‘Down to earth’ Leaf Bag Tutorial on as she demonstrates quite well how to begin the stitch which is a little difficult for me to explain on here. Ok, so once you’ve watched how she starts the stitch off you are basically ‘away’ and just keep going to the end and tie off as shown on the YT instructional video.

Here you can see the scratch awl in my hand whilst I’m ‘gently’ pulling the Lacing tight. Use good quality lace as there’s nothing more annoying than it keep snapping when you tighten it.

Really starting to come together now, the contrast between the Maroon and the antique colors is amazing...well, to me at least. Here now you can see why I used a wide gap stitching iron for the holes, it leaves a nice gap between each stitch which adds to the over all look of the project.

Here I’m trying to show how I finished off the stitching on this side of the gusset. as I came through with the last four stitches I pulled extra thread through so I could widen them on the inside allowing me to back thread the lace as shown here, I then pulled it through and snipped it off.

Then I went back and pulled all of the four stitched tight to hold the cut off end tightly. there are more than four widened here but as you saw I threaded it through four, you can do two if you like but I felt that four would hold better.

I then just snipped the end .

I slotted it in place and ‘snapped it closed just to get an idea how it was looking and have to say I was very happy at this point.

Then it was on to side two.

Annnnd..’Voila’ one really nice Leaf Bag / Pouch suitable for every day wear if you are into that sort of thing, or Renaissance / Larping / fancy Dress / medievel / basically any kind of costume event even Steam Punk if you just added some Steam punky bits to it. Well guys there you have it another little project from our new workshop, many more still to come, I’ll keep showing little snap shots through out the week to give a taste of whats going on in the w/shop just to show what I’m getting up to. Hope you have enjoyed this build along set, also hope you have a go yourself and as always I’m free to answer any questions and always happy to receive constructive advice. I’m still not professional, still learning and still sharing it all after nearly four years...yes my little Blog will be four years old next month. Till next time then, Stay crafty and watch this space.

[klarosims]

Remembering Hope Mikaelson

Part 1 > Part 2

Summary: What happened when Caroline forgot about Hope? And Josie’s spell never reached her.

Note: this was supposed to be just a random drabble because I cried so hard during the latest episode but now it’s too long and not even finished. I will definitely update this one soon. Before the next episode because damn we need Caroline back in Legacies.

     Caroline Forbes Salvatore was crying when she woke up in her hotel room in St. Petersburg. She stared at the still dark night through her window and let the scenes of her dreams flash through her mind. Though she knew they weren’t just dreams, but memories.

     Klaus Mikaelson standing in the Salvatore School library asking her to help kill himself and the Hollow. Klaus Mikaelson standing beside her in the town square of Mystical Falls, watching a towny dance. Finally, Klaus Mikaelson kissing her in a pub in New Orleans, the same pub she brought her daughters to look for him.

     The last place she saw Klaus. 

    Caroline stifled a sob as tears emerged and clouded her vision. She furiously rubbed them away with one hand while cursing Klaus Mikaelson.

     “Stupid immortal being... dying for the greater good.” She pulled her knees up and held them tight against her chest. She watched the full moon linger at its apex, imagining it as the everlasting ego of Klaus. “What about the people you left behind... Your family. Rebekkah, Freya, maybe even Kol! What about...”

     A word hung on her lips and she doesn’t know how to say it. Caroline bit her bottom lip and hid her faces beneath her crossed arms. “Me?” she whispered, unsure.

    It was another week or two before she finally got the courage to do what she should have in St. Petersburg. “Maybe that’s why he’s haunting me,” she whispered to herself as she stopped right in front of the gates of the Main Palace Square of the Hermitage Museum. “I’ve been in Russia for almost a month and I still haven’t gone to see his stupid painting.”

    Caroline stretches her fingers and glances to her left side, suddenly remembering the feeling of a hand alternating between holding her arm and gripping it, bracing himself for what’s to come. She lightly touched her arm where the ghost of his touch has lingered. She whispered his name and wondered if he’s there. If he’s asking her to do this.

    She couldn’t help it. If he was there right beside her, she couldn’t help ask him again for the hundredth time. “Why did you do it? We could have found another way.” Caroline turned away and clenched her left fist. “You didn’t have to die, you big-- ugh.”

    Caroline stalked over to the ticket offices where a group of tourists had gathered. She took pictures of the courtyard while she listened in on the tour guide. She did not want to stay in the museum longer than she had to. Everything about the building just reminded of her Klaus, and his history, his grand gestures, his empty promises.

    She wanted to find his stupid painting and be out of there quick. She didn’t want to be haunted by another love that died a martyr. She rubs the band on her finger and stared at it. The Hermitage is definitely not the place to think of Stefan either.

     Suddenly her ears perked up as the guide mentioned the different complex of the museum: the Winter Palace, the Small Hermitage, the New Hermitage, the Great Old Hermitage-- “That’s it,” she sneaked back into the shadows before speeding off to the annex of the Great Old Hermitage.

    “It sounds like the kind of place Klaus would hide something of his. Fit for a very ancient Original.”

    What she found there suddenly underwhelmed her. From the marble, granite, and gold interior of the main complex, Caroline found herself in a hallway with darker, more rustic intricate patterns. It was lit by warm lights from the chandeliers that hung in the shorter ceiling and its walls were plain white with minimal design. It was so much simpler than the main complex but it was haunting.

     It made Caroline walk slower along the empty halls. The museum had just opened and from her understanding, not a lot of tourists race to explore this part of the Hermitage. If it was anyone but Caroline, they would turn back and think Klaus would rather the world see his paintings among the famous collection of artworks. 

    But this is exactly where Caroline would expect him to hang his work. Klaus loved to paint but he never did it for fame, attention, or recognition. He did it to release the emotions and creative passion that he kept locked inside, the things he was raised to believe to be weaknesses.

    As Caroline made her way down the hallway, she thought about his invitation to his exhibit. After so many years of painting and with his influence as an Original vampire, why did it take him until the 21st century to finally showcase his work? Why would he be shy about showing his paintings to the people in his kingdom of New Orleans but proud enough to boast to her about his painting in the Hermitage, among the Tzar’s collection of fine artistry? What painting could be he so proud of-

    Caroline stopped abruptly in front of a medium-sized painting at the end of a hall. She almost missed it because it’s next to a doorway towards the next annex. She stood perplexed at the oil painting in front of her. 

     It was a painting of the Original family at what seems to be Freya and Keelin’s wedding. Although Klaus wasn’t in it, it was almost complete with Esther and Mikael with a little boy between them. Caroline couldn’t just guess who it was because she knew it was Henrik. Then there was also Finn and Sage. Marcel holding Rebekkah and Kol hugging Davina. There was also Hayley next to Elijah and... a young girl “Who... is that?”

     She felt pressure on her arm again and Caroline whipped her head and baring her fangs but there was no one else in the hallway. She relaxed and rubbed her arm. That felt stronger than the last. Almost like Klaus was telling her to focus.

     “Alright, Klaus. I found your family portrait. Now what?”

     She listened in and honed her senses, waiting for another touch, a pressure, a whisper-- her ears burned with the sudden ringing of her phone. She forgot to put it on silent in her rush to find Klaus’ painting. Caroline took a quick look at the random number and answered, wondering if it was a sign Klaus had sent her.

    “Mom.” it was Josie.

[lazybirdxd]

Kaylor: The hidden true timeline

Sometimes reality exceeds our expectations, and oftentimes we are not aware that such reality exists. Until we take a deeper look.

I recently finished reading a (controversial) fanfic by a certain writer (If you’re an old Kaylor you know which fanfic, if you’re new, it’s called “Kaylor: The timeline”) and what stood out for me the most about that fanfic is that it is incredibly accurate in the way it tells the story, a story that is well thought of, it has a chronological coherence and character construction that is very difficult to surpass. The amazing thing about it is not the story in itself, but rather the level of insight it gives about the characters, behavior analysis, recognition of complex emotions and its roots in the characters, as well as a constant foreshadowing of the aesthetics of the coming era (reputation era). I think that because of this complexity and the level of details included, both Karlie and Taylor wrote it. How did I arrive to that conclusion (that many of you older Kaylors also suspect to be true)? -I'll be focusing only on the authorship of the fanfic, if you want me to analyze the story, leave a comment!-

Taylor discussing Karlie’s inability to communicate any uncomfortable situation to Taylor in the 12th chapter of part two.

Well, let’s see. The fanfic has an element of entertainment to it (no, that’s not my strongest argument, but hold on), it’s as if the writer knew which parts of the story to highlight in order for the readers to be engaged with the story from the beginning. But it doesn’t JUST take a good story for a book to be read (or in this case, a Wattpad book), you need to have the right characters in your story for people to feel identified with and represented by them. In essence, the story needs to make sense, needs to remain just a story (that means having the right amount of fantasy and the right amount of truth so that it still feels real), it needs to have complex yet relatable characters that appeal to the essential parts of human nature, and a relatively simple vocabulary (unless your expected audience is very educated) along with descriptive (visual) language, because the public has to imagine the situations the characters are going through, as well as their very environment. Also, your use of your chosen lexicon has to convey all the meaning of your story in its simplicity. I don’t know about you, but these requirements feel like the abilities of a very advanced writer, and not one that just posts random stories that they created in their head after reading a tabloid in the line of the supermarket.

The writer of the fanfic saying he/she had never written anything personal before the fanfic (I cut the screenshot on this one, but I will put the full picture later on)

Anyway, as seen above, our “fanfic” writer claims to have never had any experience at personal writing before this fanfic, which is very suspicious, given the amount of reads that this fanfic has (1.7 Million at the moment of writing this post) as well as the good reviews and people commenting on Wattpad how that is their 4th or 5th time reading the entire fanfic all over again, meaning that for the reads to be this high, the writing has to be at least really good.

I cut the screenshot here, but if you go to the first chapter of the fanfic you’ll see more people commenting similar things.

Now, with regards to the foreshadowing I talked about earlier, the fanfic was written in early 2016, and the reputation era began in late 2017, plus we know Taylor plans her tours and eras one year ahead, therefore she needed to plan the reputation era and tour one year ahead (see section Event promoters), despite her saying in a GMA interview from Lover era that she only plans 6 months in advance (which is just impossible due to recording dates, negotiations, hiring booking agents for the countries she will perform in, meetings to discuss marketing strategies, aesthetics of every era, etc…), therefore by 2016 she had at least some idea of how the 6th era was going to look like. This fanfic weirdly coincides with the aesthetics of reputation long before reputation was released. Hmmm…

This fanfic AU was last updated on February 2016.

“Interesting… Tell me more about this writer”.

Alright. Also, It’s a she and she has a Tumblr account that I took time to carefully read.

Our writer turns out to be a she.

But before I go into really heavy stalking further detail, read this disclaimer: I am no behavioral analysis expert, I do not possess any type of psychology major or minor, I’m not even doing an undergraduate course of psychology, this is me applying all the books I’ve read about human psychology as it is my hobby. I’m a Computer Science student. Having said that, let’s dive right in!

Now, this is what I observed when looking through KaylorFanfiction’s profile:

1. The writer doesn’t share, reblog, post pictures frequently or makes her personal opinion known in topics outside the fanfic(s) or writing in general. (I observed this after spending a significant amount of time scrolling down her blog and just noticing her behavioral patterns).

2. Assertive (short answers to asks on Tumblr).

3. Usually writes in caps to highlight important things (just like Taylor), words or phrases might be uppercase.

If you’re wondering about the numbers, they are questions.

Okay, let’s see Taylor now:

4. The writer is 6 feet tall (like our favorite supermodel).

The link to the questions.

5. The writer is enthusiastic about feedback (like Taylor).

6. Has one female dog named Phoebe Buffay (A pet named after a well-known tv show character.)

Interesting to note that in the second ask, the writer tells that she has only had one puppy, which reminds me of a certain someone who also has only one puppy:

7. Is in college. Or was.

I say was because, although we have pictures of Karlie on her first day of school at NYU, it isn’t completely believable due to a lack of attendance later on if you google “Karlie Kloss attending NYU”, therefore my conclusion is that her proximity to a college environment comes actually from her brother, who truly attended Notre Dame University. An interesting observation that may back my induction is that if you go to KaylorFanfiction’s profile you’ll find that when she talks about college she never specifies which one she’s attending, for that same reason, if it was true that Karlie attended, then she would have no other choice than to be proud of her wife girlfriend through her secret alternative account for her achievements (I mean, it’s NYU, who wouldn’t be proud?). Taylor The writer might have wanted to tell the narrative of a broke college student (the exact opposite of what Taylor is) to go unnoticed on social media, but the quality of the story and the richness of it made it unbelievable that the story came from an inexperienced writer (more on that later on).

In other words, this account was Taylor’s escape bubble where she could talk freely and give her opinions without dealing with the consequences. I was afraid I could be breaking that bubble with this post, but considering that she said she no longer uses the account, I figure that It was safe for me to post this.

8. Has been making connections with literary agents and small publishing presses (as detailed above).

Guess who also makes connections with certain agents and publishing agencies… (See the manager and booking agents)

9. Has a passion for music and wanted to learn how to play guitar on her own as a teenager but stopped.

The full screenshot above, as promised.

Also, doesn’t she being obsessed with music and learning from a young age reminds you of someone else?

Link to the interview.

Link to a compilation of homemade videos of Taylor singing as well as an interview where she says she learned to play the guitar at a young age (minute 1:29).

10. Reads books about music (detailed above) and learns about music in general, from a very young age.

11. Writes original content outside fanfic.

Interesting, given that she never had written something personal before (personal as in of her own making, not as in the fanfic is her life), that makes me question what did she write about before this fanfic? Journalism? But she is obsessed with music, she told us that herself. Could that original content possibly be… songs?

So far we know she is obsessed with music, she discovered she liked to write novels (I’d rather say books) through writing this fanfic, even though she doesn’t read fanfic at all, wonder where she got the inspiration and experience to make it the most read fanfic of that topic on Wattpad if she also never did anything personal, which makes me now believe that by personal she meant her life, because there is no way you can never have done anything of your own creation while having original work. Therefore, the original work she refers to, are songs (as detailed above when saying she wanted to do something with songs). She could have meant anything by saying she wanted to do something with songs, but so far, these are many many coincidences pointing to Taylor the authorship of a particular individual, and as BBC’s Sherlock said: “The universe is rarely so lazy”.

12. The author never reads fanfic stories.

The picture speaks for itself

13. The writer doesn’t like speculation. Compare to Taylor’s 25th birthday tweet.

Interesting…the author is not into speculating, yet she wrote an entire fanfic on a relationship she claims is not real to her. Basically, she ignored the definition of “speculation”.

Thus, if we wanted to make sense of the reasons for her particular fanfic creation writing taking into account that she doesn’t like speculating and that this is just a creative outlet, we would have to assume that what she writes in her story is based on an objective truth, her speech again (not liking speculation) is contradicted by the mere fact that Wattpad is for aspiring writers looking to share their work with the world (usually a fictitious work). So, if our writer doesn’t like speculation, yet creates a “fictional” story on a site dedicated to that purpose, she’s either lying about not liking speculation or she’s hiding the truth in a platform dominated by fiction in the hopes no one will see (through) it. Okay, maybe she’s lying about not liking speculation (after all, people lie all the time), but given the continuous similarities of our writer’s personality with Taylor’s, and the fact that in the universe everything is interconnected, this can’t be a coincidence. But why would Taylor go to such lengths to tell mostly the truth? Well, given Taylor’s character and the way she rose to fame (through what she called “Opening up her diaries for the world to see”) there is an inherent need in her for self-expression, but she can’t express herself freely all the time (remember the behind-the-scenes interview where she’s filming Lover video and she says her life is like a fishbowl) because her career is image-based, and one picture will outspeak any word or explanation she might have. Thus, she might have to go to these or more lengths to truly express herself and her beliefs in order to keep her mental health and creativity flowing.

14. The writer loves to add drama to her writing.

Do I have to remind you of Taylor’s lyrics to Endgame?

“I swear I don’t love the drama, it loves me “

15. The writer has an inclination toward social justice (similar to that of Taylor).

And comparing to Taylor…

Also, the fanfic is very very detail-oriented, and the writer said in a note on one of her chapters:

Finally, to top the icing…

Our writer got knee surgery. The very word surgery sounds to me as a lot of stitches being made. Where have I heard about stitches before? Maybe Out Of The Woods can be a good beginning…

“Twenty stitches in a hospital room”

My dissertation is now over. I hope you enjoyed it without thinking I’m going insane, because that’s what I’m thinking right now. Have a good night/day.

[codylabs]

Shifting Sands Chapter 3: Natives of Evil

Chapters: One Two Three

“Frankly, I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” A new creature stood in the lab, staring into her tube. A tall, important-looking, proud specimen that fiddled its right tentacle like a nervous tick. “It isn’t even very big.”

“She can get bigger, Captain.” One of the scientists replied. “We’re not quite sure how, but she was in the form of a full-grown scientist when the drones recaptured it…”

“Oh really?” The Captain blinked. “One of you?”

“Me, sir. She took my from.” Dr. Zlfo]n raised his tentacle.

“Huh… So what else can it shapeshift into?” The Captain bent closer to her tube, and looked right into her eyes. “Anything it sees?”

“We’re not sure, sir. She’s been… Uncooperative. The recent breach was the only time we’ve ever directly seen her display the ability, although… Although others of her species displayed remarkable capability during the attack…”

“Hmm… Hey! Hey you! Creature!” The Captain tapped on the glass. “Mimic something! …How about this? Can you mimic this?” He made a face, rolled his eyes outward and stuck out his tongues. He glanced back at the men after an uneventful moment of silence. “…Can it understand me?”

“No sir. The translator circuit isn’t even on.”

“Heh heh…” The Captain chuckled. “So how did it breach containment anyway?”

“The, uh… The late Dr. &R/\BJ lowered security measures in order to show her around the ship. Her container must have been mishandled, and allowed to shatter…”

“Hmph! And what could have possibly possessed that old fool to allow something so hairbrained?”

“We believe he… Struck up a friendship of some type with her, sir. He sent everyone out of the room to make her feel more at ease, so we never got the particulars.”

“Well, that was certainly preventable, now isn’t it?” The Captain scoffed, putting his tentacles on his hips. “I’m running a science vessel here, men. Not a nursery. From now on, I expect no such mistakes. No unmonitored communication with intelligent specimens, no unnccessary transfer of specimens between containers, no undue consideration for specimen desires. And that’s all they are; specimens. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” They all chorused.

“And as for this one…” He turned back to her tube. “Hmm… How well did it mimic Dr. Zlfo]n?”

“As far as we could tell, it was an exact physical match…” Dr. Zlfo]n admitted. “Save for some alternative chemistry, and of course the microscopic details.”

“…You know, we could sell these.” The Captain mused. “Spies, agents, soldiers, circus performers, the like… A lot of people would pay top money for this kind of thing. Pity we only have one… Can we clone it?”

“Unlikely, sir. It constantly shifts its DNA patterns, even in its base form. If we tried to clone a sample, we’d just as likely end up with an incomplete portion of one of its mimicry forms. We believe that microscopic adaptation on the protein level is a foundational function of its—”

“Oh, Lord, spare me.” The Captain motioned the scientist to silence. “So you’re saying we can’t clone it, and it’s too dangerous to contain. It’s of no use to us, then. Jettison it.”

“SIR!” The youngest scientist, Dr. cl;**4, spoke up. “Sir, I don’t know if killing her is the best idea…”

“Oh?” The Captain spun on him. “And what might you suggest?”

“Well…” The young man’s voice faltered. “Well, we could… We could lock her in a passenger dorm to keep her happy; those are airtight, so she couldn’t get out, and… Or… Or we could send her back to her homeworld…”

“Ohhhh, okay. Okay I see.” The Captain scoffed. “You suggest we waste an automated prison droid sending it aaaall the way back across the galaxy… Or we waste space and money by giving it a whole plethora of commodities reserved for paying passengers…”

“Well…” Dr. cl;**4’s eyes fell, and he stuttered. “O-o-or… Or keep her here and keep a better eye on her, I-I-I mean, it just seems like a bad idea to… Kill her… You… I mean, you… Uh… Never mind.”

“I what?” The Captain moved closer to him. “What were you about to say?”

“Nothing sir. Never mind.”

“Were you going to give me a warning of some type?” The Captain prodded. “Remind me of something? Yeah, that’s it, isn’t it. You were going to remind me of a warning. What was it?”

“Nothing. Sir.”

“Come now, son.” The Captain’s voice got low and cold, even slightly threatening, as he put a tentacle around cl;**4’s torso. “Come now. Don’t be afraid to speak your mind. We are men of science, aren’t we? And science isn’t afraid of a few inconvenient or uncomfortable claims, no matter how groundless they may be. Come now, scientist. State your hypothesis.”

“The… The…” cl;**4’s voice was very quiet. “The… The oracle. Sir.”

“The oracle.” The Captain nodded. “The oracle who threatened great harm to my ship and my person… Threatened divine judgement, so to speak. If I continued to ‘treat innocent lifeforms as commodities and property in the manner of soulless beasts’ then something like a… ‘great calamity of unforeseeable consequence and perfect unity with the almighty purposes’ would befall something-or-another… I believe that was something like the wording she used, wasn’t it?”

“I believe so, sir.”

“Yeah, well, anyway. You…” The Captain let his gaze wander across the faces of the assembled science team (none of whom, surprisingly, had laughed or so much as scoffed at the younger man’s worries.) “You...” He repeated. “Are men of science. You have a job to do, tests to run, papers to cite, knowledge to obtain, and time not to waste. The oracle can talk all she likes, and you can listen all you like, but I’m afraid I can’t have you making decisions based on primitive hogwash. Any more than I could use a dowsing rod to steer my ship. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” The science team nodded as one.

“And as for this…” He finally turned his attention back to ███████’s tube. “I suppose you can keep it if you want; that is, if you reason your superstitions are worth the danger. Because hey, it’s not my lab, is it? Oh wait, that’s right: it is. Any damage comes out of all of your pay. You have fun now.”

And with a pompous flair, the Captain turned and strode out of the lab.

The scientists turned back to their work. “The oracle’s made prophecies before.” One of them muttered, after a few minutes of silence.

“Shut up.” Another one mumbled back.

“And she’s always been right… Why do you think we keep her around?”

“Shut up.”

“If she isn’t a prophet of the Creator God, then I don’t know wha—”

“I said shut up!”

“Fine. Geez…”

From the edge of the room, from within her tube, ███████ listened to all these things. She understood every word that was said, and she found it all quite fascinating, and adjusted her plans.

She looked forward to her next escape from the tube.

She looked forward to talking with the ‘oracle’.

She looked forward to killing the Captain.

And it would all happen, just as she planned.

She would survive.

   “Hello, subject 148, this is Dr. cl;**4…” The young man with the rebellious heart rubbed sleep from his eyes as he spoke into the translator. “So… You understand me, right?”

A nod.

“Good… Uh… Why did you kill those men?”

She shied away from him.

“How about Dr. &R/\BJ? Why’d you kill him? You two seemed friendly…”

She covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry…” She responded.

“’Sorry’…? Really? Yeah sure, you’re ‘sorry’. But there’s a lot that ‘sorry’ can’t make right…”

“You saved my life.” She told him.

“Huh?”

“I… I can understand a little of your language.” She admitted. “Just a little… And I heard that your leader wanted to kill me, but you saved me… You… Even after what I did, you stood up for me…”

“Oh…” Dr. cl;**4 frowned at her. “Yeah… I guess I did. Just seemed like the right thing to do I suppose… I mean, you might not have known what you were doing… Or maybe you did… Did you?”

“I knew I was killing them…” She whispered. “I… I thought you were all my enemies.” Her tone and body language were carefully bashful, remorseful. “I saw you invade, I saw you kill my friends… I thought if I killed a few then I could escape, I… I thought you were all liars and murderers…”

Dr. cl;**4 scoffed. “Yeah… Honestly, yeah… We’re… Well, it’s no secret that we’re all about sick of the Captain… A lot of the things we’re doing… I tell you what, you couldn’t have been abducted by a worse ship. But… But that was it? You just thought it was self defense?”

“I thought it was…”

“We’re not all bad. Dr. &R/\BJ wasn’t bad; I’m not bad, I don’t think. Most of us are pretty decent. It’s just… It’s just this work.”

“Back on my world…” ███████ ventured. “I had to go out every morning and milk the 7$#ML4da**… And I never wanted to milk them, and they never wanted to be milked, but it was my job and we needed to eat… I guess it’s the same way for you, isn’t it?”

“Yep… That’s… That’s just how it is.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay… And… We really do want a happy ending here. We don’t want you stuck in this tube forever. Things are going to change, so… Yeah. Just don’t kill any more people, okay?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I won’t.”

“Okay…”

“Also…” She spoke up. “May I speak to the priest you mentioned…?”

“The oracle…? Uh…” cl;**4 blinked. “I don’t see why not…”

These scientists really weren’t all bad.

Not nearly. There were some bad ones, but many more were decent. And their decency would be their downfall, for they would allow her to live, and they would trust her, confide in her, maybe even befriend her.

She would feed their distrust of their captain and of each other.

And she would survive.

   “Hello ███████”

███████ arose from her sleep to behold a new creature standing in the room, which she paused to regard for a moment or two.

This one was unique. It didn’t have the mannerisms of a soldier or a scientist or an officer. Indeed, it seemed to share nothing in common with the rough, cold, metallic world around it. Its thin, grey face and fingered hands set it apart from the tentacled others, and its long, plain cloak with its careful stitching and earthy colors seemed almost to have been plucked from an older, humbler chapter of history. And its seven eyes sparkled with a quiet, warm sorrow, as if it had witnessed the end of all that it knew, and did not mourn the loss.

This was an alien among aliens. A creature out of time and place.

The oracle.

“You understand me even without the translator.” The oracle said. “Don’t you.”

███████ blinked.

“Thus we may speak candidly.” The oracle smiled. “They are not listening.”

“…Oracle.” ███████ smiled. “It is truly a pleasure to meet someone of your-“

“Don’t give me that. You see me as nothing but a tool.” The oracle put her hands on her hips. “You seek not my doctrine nor my wisdom or my warnings; I am a crystal ball to you. You wish only to know the future.”

“…I would like to hear any words you have to say.” ███████ answered carefully.

“Of course you would.” She shrugged. “So long as they are preaching doom and damnation upon your enemies, destruction and fire upon this ship… A woman who speaks mysteries is a novelty, but at the end of the day, people only listen to what they want to hear… Although the answer is yes. This ship will crash. It will be brought down, to a place of such gravity that no man will be able to raise it back up.”

“…Why doesn’t the captain believe you?”

The oracle sighed, and spread her robes to show her wrists. They were bound in metal shackles. “I am but a prisoner as well.” She admitted. “A novelty. Just as you interest them by changing forms, I interest them by speaking prophecies they do not believe, from a God they do not worship… They may listen, but it seems they will never truly believe before the end…”

“…When exactly will that be? Time and date?”

“No. It is not an eventuality to prepare for.” The oracle corrected her. “It is a punishment to avoid… The time, in particular, is not for us to know, for it is proper that we should live all our days in humility and repentance, not only our last.”

“…What exactly will be the cause of the ship’s crash?”

“Things well beyond you or I.”

There was a strange silence in the lab for a few moments, while ███████ thought about how utterly useless the prophet’s words were. “So…” She assessed. “You are either unable or unwilling to furnish any specific details…  When or how is still a mystery, so what’s the point in even speaking of it? Why did you come to meet me in the first place if you’re so set on being useless?”

“Because I was given a prophecy for you, ███████.”

She tilted her head curiously.

“About your oath.” The prophet said.

She froze, and looked hard into the seven eyes. That oath? She wondered.

“Yes, that oath.” The prophet spoke slowly and carefully. “The oath to kill every last man, woman and child on this ship… That oath.”

That oath had never been said aloud. The oracle had absolutely no way of knowing it. As an understatement, the oracle now had her full attention.

“You MUST forget all about it.” The woman commanded her. “Repent of it. Move past it. Turn from it… It’s… Wrong. Don’t harbor such thoughts. Their deaths should be on you…” Something broke in the prophet’s voice, and ███████ wasn’t sure if it was due to fear or sadness. “This ship will crash and burn.” She continued. “And everybody onboard will die in their own time, in their own way, just as all mortals must… You don’t need to concern yourself with them. You don’t need to bother. They have their reward. All you can do is look to yourself, and to your own heart and soul…”

“…You lecture me?”

“I lecture all who will listen.” The prophet pleaded. “Just as the Captain walks a selfish, violent path, and his dogmatic pride holds him to it, so you walk a path of deceit and murder to uphold your evil oath. You and the Captain are the same! So stubborn, so irreverent, beholden to nobody but yourself, and you will stick to it for no reason but that you conceive you must… And I fear that great and just harm will befall both of you before journey’s end, for neither of you would ever dare admit even the tiniest error in your ways…”

“There IS no error.” ███████ stood and hissed savagely. The prophet stood her ground. “There has never BEEN an error. Don’t insult me by pretending to know me, or by pushing vague, misguided notions of morality on me. This ship and the people aboard have fallen afoul of me, and I will do as I please about it, and who is your ‘god’ to judge me?”

“My ‘God’…” The prophet stated. “Is the foundation and the author of every moral law you scoff at. My God is the creator of totality itself, and he is not mocked by one of its denizens… But he is a just and loving God. He would heal you, in the moment that you turn to him.”

The silence hung in the room for what felt like minutes, while ███████ locked eyes with the oracle. Finally she smiled. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Ha. Well.” The oracle smiled, even laughed just a little. “If you like… But before I go, the prophecy I was given for you…” She hesitated. “Is that you will survive the crash. And if you do not repent before then, a life of lonely pain awaits you.”

“Bye-bye now.”

“…Goodbye.”

God was a fallacy and a deception. The powers that be were nothing more than powers.

And she was a power herself.

She had the power to survive.

[lacylu42]

11/11 tag game

I was tagged by @contes-de-rheio​. Thank you!

1. The plot of the first original story you wrote

Oh, lordy... I’ll have to think back on that. The first original story I can remember writing was in junior high (which would be *cough* like 20+ years ago???). It was a science fiction about a team of people who invented individual spaceship/suits to fight an alien invasion (think mechs, but I’m pretty sure I had never been exposed to those when I wrote it). I didn’t finish it because it really didn’t have a plot beyond what I just told you. ;) 

2. What do you think about advising a story solely over the character‘s sexuality, ethnicity or religion?

Not sure I totally understand the question, but I personally would never write a story where the main plot turns on someone’s sexuality, ethnicity or religion — mostly because I’m a cis het white female who grew up protestant, so I wouldn’t feel comfortable writing a book ENTIRELY about the life or struggles of someone who had a very different experience. At least, I don’t feel up to the task at this stage of my writing life.

I am, however, big on including a diverse cast in my books, and their struggles do play into the plot sometimes. I prefer to make those characteristics secondary, though to the person themselves; I try to treat those characters as I would a cis het white male. If his skin color/religion/sexuality isn’t a big deal, then the other variations in other characters shouldn’t be either (though it’s a fine line between treating those things as normal and unremarkable and tokenism, and I’m aware of that as well...)

My last epic WIP (that has become something of a bottom drawer novel for the time being) had an allegorical theme of religious intolerance (and intolerance in general) and one of the main characters was a Muslim teenage girl who experienced some serious crap because of her gender and religion. BUT were that novel ever to see the light of day, I would want to hire a Muslim woman to help me read and edit it to make certain I’m portraying my character in a truthful and appropriate light.

WHEW that was a lot. 

3.  How many alternatives of your WIPs plot do you have in mind?

None. I built my current WIP using the plot of The Thin Man as sort of a template (because I suck at plot and was using this NaNo as an experiment and practice to improve). Of course, the details and even some of the plot deviated as the WIP grew, but I didn’t have multiple variations.

As I’m outlining the sequel, I do have a couple of places in the outline where I say “either this happens OR that happens” because I haven’t decided yet, but they’re not big plot points. 

4.  Your favorite character ever

My own OC or character in general?

Right now, David MacInish, the half-fae detective in my WIP is my favorite. As for characters in other people’s works, I love the Doctor, from Doctor Who, and Remus Lupin.

(I guess I like a man with a tragic backstory...)

5.  what do you like about world building?

I love describing settings, and I love imagining fantastic, impossible places. There’s a magical, possibly sentient library that’s popped up in two of my WIPs and I keep wanting to find the right place for it. Maybe she needs her own book. ;) 

Question you didn’t ask: What do you HATE about world building? Working out the rules of my magic system. I sometimes paint myself into a corner and then don’t know how to get out. 

6. The longest time your worked on a WIP to finish the first draft?

OK, don’t judge: 10+ years. My bottom-of-the-drawer WIP took me more than 10 years to finish. I finally hired a book coach and finished the first full draft in 2017. In my defense, I was doing that thing where you write five chapters, then go back and rewrite five chapters, then rewrite those five chapters over and over and over again. But it took me 10 years to write the whole damn thing start to finish. And now I pretty much never want to look at it again. ;)

7. Movie or tv show adaption?

Oh man. I’m torn! What I really want is a thousand episodes of a TV show but with movie-quality production values. Is that really too much to ask? ;) 

Actually, I just recently watched the BBC miniseries of A Discovery of Witches and I thought they did a great job with the sweeping, epic feel, in 10 episodes or whatever it was. But I’m always like MOAR PLS. 

8. Your favorite part of being a writer?

I love the giddy explosion of creativity when I’m in flow, when I’m inhabiting my world, when I’m imagining new things. My daughter calls playing pretend “making movies,” and that’s really what it feels like to me. Directing and inhabiting these movies in my head. 

I think that’s why I struggle with editing, because it’s not the heady creation phase. It feels a lot more like WORK. 

9. Planer, Pantser or something in between?

Well, pantsing is the reason it took me 10 years to finish a WIP (that and I moved states, changed jobs, had a baby, and started a business in that time...). 

I found in writing this NaNo that it was SO much easier having a template to work from. Every time I got stuck, I just looked at the book to see what happened next and I could get moving again. So I’m working on a detailed outline for the next book. (Although, I am allowing myself to capture snippets of scenes and dialogue as they occur to me.)  

10. Writing by hand or via PC?

On the computer. When I was in junior high (see above) and just starting to write my own stories, I taught myself to type better, because I couldn’t hand-write fast enough to get the ideas out of my head. Now I type over 100 words a minute, so my fingers move almost as fast as my brain... ;) 

11. Your go to snacks while writing?

If I’m going to eat while writing, it’s the hand to mouth action I crave more than the actual food, so I try to pick something relatively healthy that requires a lot of that — like grapes, blueberries, or plain popcorn (love the buttered stuff, but it makes fingers greasy for typing). Mostly I just drink copious amounts of coffee, tea, or carbonated water. 

Thank you again for tagging me!

The rules are 11 questions answered, 11 questions given, and 11 people tagged! I’ll tag my new writeblr friends (but I tagged some of you in the last one, so just do the ones you like!): @iloveyouappleiloveyouorange​, @foreshadowingss, @starlitesymphony, @virginiawritesforlovers, @caberetofwords, and @kipoints. 

1. Have you had to “kill any darlings” from your current WIP, ie: quotes, characters, scenes, etc. that you LOVE but don’t fit and have to be cut? Please share.

2. What is your favorite genre to write in and why? Is it different from the genres you like to consume?

3. Do you consciously study existing works by other authors to improve your own writing? If so, what types of things do you look at?

4. Have you noticed any patterns in your own writing, ie: you always have a certain type of character, like to explore a certain type of story, etc.?

5. Do you do most of your world building before you write, while writing the first draft, or during revisions? 

6. If when your WIP hits the bestseller list, where would you like to go or what would you like to do on a book tour? Is there somebody you’d like to be interviewed by? 

7. How do you approach setting the scene in your work? Are you into lush descriptions or giving the bare minimum and allowing the reader to fill in the blanks?

8. Do you follow a set structure (ie: hero’s journey, 3-act structure) when plotting out your works, or fly by the seat of your pants?

9. What does your revision process look like?

10. Please share a bit of dialogue from your WIP that shows us something important about the character’s personality.

11. Please share any jokes or funny bits from your WIP of which you are ridiculously proud. ;) 

[chasholidays]

Bellarke Soulmates au where all your life, you see black & white, and then when you touch your soulmate, you see colors. Please and thanks!

To Bellamy, not having a soulmate sometimes feels like knowing the setup for a joke and never hearing the punchline.

Not, admittedly, that he knows he doesn’t have a soulmate. He’s only thirty, and plenty of people find their soulmates at that age or later. It’s just that it seems easier, at this point in his life, to assume that no one is coming along, that he’s going to be one of those people who never gets that.

In some ways, it’s not hard to fake it. He knows that leaves are supposed to be green, and the sky is supposed to be blue. The rug in his apartment is brown, which is the same color as dirt and tree bark and his eyes. Apples are red or sometimes green, and traffic light colors are always in the same order: red at the top, then yellow, then green.

But he’s getting to the age where a lot of people he knows have soulmates, where a world without color is becoming the exception, rather than the norm. He has to fake it now, because if strangers find out he can’t see colors, it changes things. People will feel sorry for him, and that’s even worse than not having a soulmate.

It’s not as if he isn’t happy, honestly. It’s not as if not having a soulmate is this great blight on his life. But he’ll be out with his coworkers, and someone will ask which color was most surprising, when they first saw it, or they’ll try to describe what fall leaves look like, and he just has to nod and smile and hope no one asks him too many specific questions.

His favorite color is blue, and if he never sees it, he still thinks it’s a pretty good favorite color. From what he’s heard.

It’s three weeks after his birthday when Miller finds his soulmate, a cute, geeky kid named Monty, and Bellamy tries not to be too bitter.

“Is it as awesome as everyone says?” he asks.

Miller takes a sip of beer. “Which part, love or color?”

“Color. I’ve been in love before.”

Miller doesn’t call him out on that one; soulmate love is supposed to be unlike anything else, but Miller is still new to it. He and Monty haven’t really had time to do much more than meet each other.

“It’s kind of like looking up the answers at the end of the book,” he decides, his tone thoughtful. “Except you never did any work for the class and the whole thing is basically a mindfuck. Like, you didn’t know enough to have any idea what the answers would even look like.”

That actually does make some sense to him, even if he doesn’t entirely get it. But, like Miller said, he doesn’t really have the full picture. He doesn’t feel as if he has the capacity to know what he’s missing.

“So, it’s cool?” he asks.

“Yeah. But if I never got it—“ He shrugs. “You’re still good.”

“I am,” he agrees, and can’t help a teasing smirk. “So, what, you think it’s never going to happen for me? Already giving up?”

Miller rolls his eyes. “Who the fuck wants to put up with you their whole life?”

It’s a joke, and he knows it, but it still feels a little like it’s not. Which isn’t Miller’s fault; this is his insecurity.

“That’s the question,” he says, making sure it sounds like a joke too. “Guess we’ll find out.”

*

Two weeks later, his sister’s soulmate has a show that seems custom-designed to make him feel shittier.

Of course he knows that’s not actually what happened; the world does not revolve around him. The decision had nothing to do with him at all. And it’s honestly a cool idea: Lincoln collaborated with a friend of his who doesn’t have her soulmate yet, and they both produced paintings with the same colors and themes, something like a before-and-after game. Even without being able to see the “real” colors, Bellamy will be able to appreciate the differences in shade and design. It won’t be entirely lost on him.

It’s still tempting to just skip out, but he likes Lincoln, and Octavia will definitely notice if he isn’t there, and will guess why and have opinions about it.

So he’d better just go.

“This is actually going to be cool,” Octavia says, way too brightly. Lincoln is busy with setup, so she’s having dinner with him, Miller, and Monty before they go to the opening event at the gallery.

“As opposed to all Lincoln’s other, shitty art?” Bellamy teases.

She rolls her eyes. “Not that. But it’ll be cool to see what it’s like for you. Everyone else can see the colors, but you have the other perspective.”

“Lucky me.”

“You’re going to find them,” O says, like this is a certainty. “But for now, it’s cool. We’ll get the full experience.”

And Bellamy has to admit, it is cool. The paintings are side-by-side, with detailed breakdowns of what the instructions were and what colors were used next to them, and it’s interesting to see how much better the shades of gray on Clarke Griffin’s paintings look to him than the ones on Lincoln’s do. He’s seen art done by people without soulmates before, but they tend to work in actual grayscale, avoiding colors which they can’t actually distinguish for just this reason.

“Does it work?” he asks his sister. “Clarke Griffin’s stuff.”

“Kind of. It’s not–it feels like what you’d do if you didn’t have enough colors to pick from, I guess? Like, the sky is blue, but it doesn’t really look like the right blue.”

“It looks like the right blue to me,” he says. “I like it.”

“Thanks,” says a voice, and Bellamy turns and bumps his shoulder against this unfamiliar girl who’s standing too close, and all at once the world is bursting into what he knows must be color.

It’s as hard to explain as everyone’s always said it was, because he’s trying to put together references he didn’t even entirely know he was missing. The woman’s hair is light, probably blonde, and her skin is pale too, but he has no idea what color her eyes are, or what color her scarf is. Her shirt is gray, which is familiar, but even that shade has these nuances he didn’t know about, these other colors he can’t identify yet.

He looks down, remembering that his shirt is blue, and he does like the shade. That’s a relief.

Then he looks back at the woman, who’s not looking at him anymore either.

“Oh my god, it looks so different.”

He follows her gaze to the paintings on the wall, and she’s right, of course; the pleasing patterns of gray have been replaced by other, unknown colors that are, for reasons he can’t even begin to articulate, less appealing together than the colors he saw before were.

“You’re the artist?” he asks, although he already knows.

“And you’re my soulmate,” she says.

“She’s your what?” asks Octavia. “Bell, you can–”

“You’re losing your alternate perspective on the show, yeah,” he says. “This is my soulmate.”

*

Meeting Clarke is almost more surreal than being able to see colors, but the colors make for a much easier topic of conversation. And it’s a good way to get to know her, too, since they’re walking around her art show, looking at her paintings, and she’s regretting everything about her choices.

It’s kind of adorable, honestly.

“Seriously, that’s what green looks like?” she laments, signing at her painting of a flower next to Lincoln’s. “That’s not what I pictured.”

“Could you actually picture them?” he asks, curious. “Like–did you know how to imagine it?”

“Not like this. I guess I kind of–” She laughs, this soft, almost shy sound that makes his heart twist. “I thought a lot about it, I guess? And people try to tell me, other artists, but–I had no idea there would be so many.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I know what you mean. At least we’re in the right place for it.”

“Right place?”

He takes the excuse to move a little closer to her, leaning in so he can point to the card by the pieces. “They’re all labeled so we know what colors they are.”

That makes her laugh again. “Yeah, we’ve got a cheat sheet. And it does help. I can see how this green Lincoln used is in the same color family as mine, but his has more yellow in it.” She shakes her head. “God, it’s so weird. Finally seeing–I’ve studied color theory, I know exactly how it’s supposed to work, that you can mix blue and red to make purple, and I know how it works with black and white and shades of gray, but–this is so much more.”

“So, you want to leave the gallery and go play around with paint mixing, right?” he teases.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, but you do.”

“Can you tell that because you’re my soulmate?” she asks.

“Or it’s really obvious.” He wets his lips. “I don’t mind, if you want to go. I assume we’re going to see more of each other.”

“Yeah.” It’s her turn to pause, deliberate, lip caught in her teeth. He’s looking forward to learning all of her little quirks. “Or you could come with me.”

“If I leave with you, my little sister is definitely going to think I’m going to get laid,” he says.

“She’s Lincoln’s soulmate, right? He said she was–” She tries to find the right word. “Opinionated.”

“She’s a pain in my ass,” he grumbles, but he knows how fond it sounds.

“Is it bad?” she asks. “If she thinks you’re getting laid. I wasn’t ruling that out.”

His mouth tugs up. “No, neither was I. Let me get my coat.”

Clarke’s studio isn’t far, and she slides her hand into his as they walk, small and warm, and he squeezes her fingers. “Demographic stuff?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

“Where are you from?”

“California. I came up here for school and never left. You?”

“Here. I just never left. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven. You?”

“I turned thirty last month. I had a kind of minor I’m never going to find my soulmate crisis going on.”

“Yeah?”

“Miller and Monty just met, and O and Lincoln haven’t been together that long either, just about six months. It was starting to feel like I was the last one left who didn’t have mine.”

“But now you do.”

He still can’t quite believe it. He’s walking down the street with a beautiful woman who was meant to be his, and even in the dark, at night, the world is full of so many colors. He can’t believe there are this many. It doesn’t seem possible.

“Now I do.”

She unlocks the door to the studio, gives him a quick tour, but the main event is the rows of paints, all bright colors in a row. They pull them down and examine them, getting the feeling of pink and turquoise, these things he understood as theory, as words, but not as reality.

“Can you believe every single shade has a name?” she asks, running her fingers over the labels with awe. “And you can mix them all, and they’ll all be different?”

He laughs. “It’s pretty unbelievable, yeah.” And then, he can’t help adding, “You really must be my soulmate.”

“That’s how it works, yeah.”

“No, I meant–don’t get me wrong, you’re awesome, so far. But I always kind of wondered about the colors more. Even if I never found my soulmate, I figured I could fall in love. But I’d never know what this stuff was like, not really. So I’m glad that’s the big draw for you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she says. “You seem pretty great too. But I’m glad you wanted to bail and come play with paint with me.”

Tentatively, he puts his arm around her, and when she leans back into him, he tugs her closer, kisses her hair. She smells light and fresh and a little like the chill of the air, and she’s his, somehow.

The world is new and bright and beautiful, in a way he didn’t even know how to imagine.

“Yeah,” he says. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

[potahun]

Reasons why Best Wishes is GREAT.

The main trio

Just the greatness of the main trio deserves its own post tbh

SATOSHI, IRIS, AND DENT…. KINGS AND QUEEN OF CHILL

BUT ALSO KINGS AND QUEEN OF DORKINESS

The most beautiful team dynamics. But aha what makes it work is that the teamwork permeates the action. Their closeness rarely gets spelt out – and it pretty much never gets spelt out in touching terms. Most of the times, we only know they like each other because (a) well they stuck together for a whole region i guess (b) the jokes (e.g. dent and his mentions of marriage here and there) (c) the natural synchronicity they grew to have (synchronized excitement and glee, synchronized panic etc). They dont stop to tell each other ‘im glad youre here’ and they dont have touching episodes about friendships growing deeper and speeches about learning from each other — even iris and satoshi’s episode about fighting and making up was done in a light-hearted way with jokes throughout (all the zooms out with dent’s narration), and whenever dent talks about what he learned from the two others he has to add a bit of his sommelier air (which makes things naturally light)…..

but thats the whole charm of it! The beauty of Best Wishes is that the relationships speak for themselves, they speak through the fact that the jokes are thrown and hit back like ping pong in the dialogues, and they speak through the fact that despite all the natural clashes in their personalities, they wanted to and managed to stay together. which kind of leads to the next point:

They are three independent and self-reliant souls - meaning, the only reason they stay together is because they each looked at the other two and thought : ‘hey. im having a good time right now. i want to continue some more’. I think BW is a bit peculiar in the sense that this is the only time since OS that Satoshi travels with two companions that are experienced (e.g. Haruka, Hikari, and Serena started out as their respective series did) Iris is actually more experienced than Satoshi, considering how young she was when she started battling with Doryuzu. Dent is also a Gym Leader. From this perspective, Satoshi doesn’t have to mentor anyone in the BWOT3; at the same time, he’s seen his own fair share (and defo has the most experience in terms of travels) so he’s not getting mentored by anyone either (in OS, he was the newbie). This directly affects their dynamics as a team. Basically, No one puts anyone on a pedestal in this trio.

Sure, dent was a bit fascinated by satoshi in the beginning, but he’s definitely not getting mentored hahaha oh boy and there is no idolatry there. In fact, each of the 3 is painfully aware of the others’ quirks and shortcomings from the get-go. and moreover, they ALL HAVE AN EGO THAT HAS THINGS TO SAY.

It’s painfully clear from the very beginning that they each have very strongly anchored personalities and that these personalities are not a natural match. Dent and Iris are like a big bang of their own concerning this, with all their Truth vs Ideal symbolism and contrast galore…but that applies to all 3. All 3 have a strong sense of self, and this leads to a refreshing trio because in the end, none depends on the other 2 to define themselves. They are more than willing to learn from each other, but they do so by observing things and internalizing them, while having fun on the outside. At the end of the day, Iris and Dent weren’t truly following Satoshi or enabling him. They were independent spirits on their own journey, and that became super clear in the way they separated at the end – relaxed, without drama, and without tears. In that sense, the trio never seemed to revolve around Satoshi, but was instead 3 free spirits sharing the same path for a while – which actually makes for a real trio, rather than two companions for Satoshi, with Satoshi as the centre piece.

The Mon teams

EACH POKEMON HAS A PERSONALITY THAT HOLDS ITS OWN

My exposure to pokeani is limited tbh, but Best Wishes seems to have paid less attention to creating a storyline between mon and trainer (e.g Gekkouga in XY, Lizardon in OS, Hikozaru in DP)? There was a bit of stuff with Pokabu, a bit with Iris’ Doryuzu + Kairyu, but overall, not much is explored. In fact, Satoshi doesn’t really have a regional ace in BW (arguably Waruvile? although there’s not much storyline). NEVERTHELESS, there is a charm to this absence of special mon in the storyline.

Firstly, all the mons got a chance to let their personality shine. And they did! They each had a personality, just like human characters. Secondly, in Best Wishes, the angst level in general is reduced to a minimal level….and so, this got heavily reflected in the dynamics between all the mons.

The mons in BW all have very well-defined dynamics, but these are all on the light-hearted side: Emonga and Tsutarja have contrasting personalities, Mijumaru and Pokabu clash too for different reasons, Zuruggu my God Zuruggu is a wonder of his own…. Just like the main trio, the trio’s mons are a recipe for smiles/laughter, rather than being emotionally touching in the traditional sense. This whole thing makes the mon teams in Best Wishes especially charming, and fit perfectly into the general mood of the series! which leads to the next point.   

The MOOD

Best Wishes is incredibly chill.

It’s dorky overall — not just in the sense of having dorky characters; the show as a whole is written and built in a dorky way so that it can at anytime walk into crackland and no one can ask any questions about it.

AND IT DOES walk into crackland. The fillers in BW are either full-on crack, or actually have a plot with an intrigue/mystery (still with, often, a touch of crack). One of the episodes was basically Inception in Pokeani. Even when the plot itself is not crack, the show makes it a point to keep humor high on the list of priorities…and boy it is high

Dent, on its own, invites crack. But there is something in the way the series is crafted that allows all the characters to hit you hard with the jokes and the punch lines. The jokes in BW don’t go stale, because they take unexpected turns at unexpected moments, and are delivered in refreshing ways. Characters like Dent (with his 300 hobbies and out-of-this-world speech pattern) are not stuck with the same kind of lines / jokes / reactions all the time. Even Iris’ “You’re such a child” line changes completely depending on her tone. She’s also very dynamic so she can easily alternate between making you laugh and making you cry.

Also, her facial expressions. Everyone’s facial expressions

Sometimes, there are running gags, like Bel crashing into Satoshi, or Kenyan’s name, but most of the time, there are more dynamic characters like Dent, Iris, Cabernet, or even one-time characters like Gothimu and her trainer, to keep things moving. The jokes are sometimes inappropriate, sometimes unexpected, sometimes both – so overall, BW rly let go of all inhibitions when it came down to humor (and made one question whether it was still a kid’s show sometimes), and that was one of the most refreshing parts of it.

The so-called “downside” to this is of course, since the whole series looks like a sitcom of sorts, the battles/league really arent the main point. But that’s it. They’re not the main point. The main point is to have a good time.

The script writing

This is rather related to the technical side of it, but Best Wishes is great because it’s written in a way that flows smoothly.

The reason why the main trio’s dynamic speaks for itself, or why the jokes actually work for more than just kids, is that the dialogues flow naturally and are interesting. They worked well with characterization and have a great rhythm! My experience with Pokeani is that it sometimes serves lines that are supposed to send a great message, or are meant to act as the punch line, but they are not delivered in a way that fits the rhythm of the conversation/scene. As a result, a scene ends up seeming like it’s plain, cheesy, or a little boring, even. BW nailed the dialogues throughout. It’s part of why the series could manage such a huge cast of characters without getting lost.  The script was just well written.

The other great thing related about the writing + the humor is just…the storyboard and the directing, i mean…

There are just…comedic choices that were made and were golden in this series

BW!Satoshi

This deserves its own point

He’s suuuuuuuuuper chill

Satoshi in Best Wishes is just the ultimately level of laid-back, forward-looking and sweet, because he combines the reasonableness and level-headedness of a trainer who’s already seen 4 regions before, with the liveliness and goofiness of the child that he is. He’s basically more laid-back/less competitive about battles than in DP, more lively and dynamic than XY, and more mature about misshaps and losses than in OS.  

He was comfortable, relaxed, and having fun. And that made him adorable and endearing.

Basically

Best Wishes is amazing. If you need to destress and have a good time, watch it