#anyways society if i actually somehow managed to write this fic<3

[warriorbarnes]

book emoji!!! 📚📖

Hey, here’s a fun new game. Put “📓” or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I’ll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven’t written but daydream about.

hmm okay!! one fic that i desperately need and want to write, but can't for the life of me figure out how to write, is a spn tabula rasa (the buffy ep) au

for those of you not familiar with the buffy ep, the basic plot of it is that the main characters all fall victim to a memory spell gone wrong, and everyone forgets who they are. they all wake up in the same room, and draw conclusions about who they are based on where they're sitting, who they're sitting next to, ids in their pockets, etc etc etc.

so i have a lot of ideas for this fic, lots of things that could be a lot of fun and pairings that would be funny. here is a not-so-brief-list of things that i think would be funny:

it's a party in the bunker. they're celebrating that the world hasn't (almost) ended in almost a year! claire thought it would be hilarious to get a cake with "happy one year anniversary!" on it. dean also thinks it's very funny.

there's also some banners and balloons.

basically they all wake up and they think they're at an anniversary party

cas was sitting next to sam when they spell hit them, and so when they wake up he's got his head on his shoulder. this leads every one to conclude that it is cas' and sam's anniversary.

dean finds an fbi badge in his pocket, so he decides that he should obviously be in charge here.

sam thinks this is stupid, besides that badge is obviously fake

"how the hell would you know?"

"oh, come on! agent [insert obviously fake agent name]? no way that's real."

they bicker back and forth. this leads to the "hey, do you thing we're brothers?" moment, taken directly from the buffy ep. dont judge me.

this is a HUGE bummer for dean, bc it turns out he definitely has the hots for his brothers husband. this is the main plot of the episode, as well as figuring out where the hell they are and what the hell happened to them

(it was rowena. rowena happened to them)

the other people who are there are: claire, jody, jack & kaia. maybe some others idk.

cas finds jimmy's id in his pocket, and when claire finds an id with a matching surname in her pocket, they conclude that she is his daughter. she and jody have a similar moment to jack and dean, and conclude that they must be mother and daughter.

this obviously means that cas and jody used to be married. sam feels weird and awkward around jody bc of this.

claire hates sam. he clearly broke her parents up. she keeps sending him death glares and he gets even MORE awkward.

so they know who everyone is in relation to sam and cas (the guests of honor). everyone except jack.

they somehow come to the conclusion that he must be claire's boyfriend (they're the same age, and they were sitting next to each other when they woke up. makes sense.)

this lasts for about five minutes until jack tries taking claire's hand and she freaks and says "actually, i think i'm gay." (yes this is also. heavily inspired by the original episode)

other than that the only specific thing i know i want is cas and dean searching through a room in the bunker and getting real close, and the both of them feeling like jerks bc cas is married to sam, dammit. they end up kissing anyway, and it's so good that dean concludes that they have to be having an affair. lots of guilt ensues. and some more making out.

eventually they all get their memories back. actually maybe this happens exactly when cas and dean are making out (once again yes this is just. me ripping off buffy. whatever, it would be good.)

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Hmm. Idk how many you allow, but, if it’s limited, I’m okay if you delete some of mine to make room for others! If it’s okay, I’d like to request something else! You’ll start to see I have some favorites 😂 anyway! Can I get headcanons for the circus troupe characters of your choice falling for someone playful and kind, someone they considered “normal” but realize that they’re treated like an outcast because they don’t follow the current society’s expectations/social norms? It doesn’t matter how many of them you do or don’t do! It’s your time and your work! It’ll be wonderful either way! Thank you very much! And no pressure or anger if you decide not to do it!

hey, you guys are NEVER limited on how many requests you want to send! as long as the askbox is open, SEND TO YOUR LIL HEARTS’ CONTENT!!

soooo I decided to do reactions instead of headcanons! headcanon sets are usually longer than reactions and I’ve decided to implement a character limit for different types of content; 3 characters for fics/scenarios, 5 characters for headcanon sets, and 10 characters for reactions.

mainly just an effort to keep my sanity and keep things from getting waaaay too long for single requests~

HOWEVER, I hope you enjoy regardless!! I started out not writing much for each one and they got progressively longer and I feel like that happens a lot with me XD

also I somehow never made a header for poor Dagger and Wendy?? SO THAT WAS FUN TRYING TO REMEMBER HOW I’D SET IT UP............. not me crying because I had to redo Dagger’s simply because the text outline wasn’t thick enough so it didn’t match the rest of them

BEAST

Lord, but they’re just so… so perfect?? It takes her a very long time for her to even think of them in any other light. The fact that they’re so sweet and kind just leads her to put them on this ‘unattainable’ pedestal. They’re normal. They’re not too big or too small or missing pieces or have extra pieces or… anything like her or her family. It starts to click when she sees them trying to mingle after watching one of the troupe’s shows. Nobody else is paying them much mind, all either ignoring them or actively saying rude things about them. That’s when she begins interacting with them more like… two people. Just people. By the time she realizes that her feelings have turned romantic, suddenly (Name) is very, very much attainable.

DAGGER

Look at them! No, seriously, everyone look at them. And then look… at him. There’s no way in hell he could have a chance with someone like that, right? Well, luckily he’s had practice with hiding his feelings and treating people totally normally, so he can manage just fine. He’s glad to be (Name)’s friend, at any rate; they really are a great person, far as he’s concerned. When they’re hanging around the troupe, it’s too easy for him to forget that… well… they’re quite lonely. That they tell him they don’t want to leave because nobody else really likes them strikes a chord with him. That’s around the time he resolves to spend as much time with them as he can. He’s always thought of them as ‘normal’, so he… wants to make them feel normal.

DOLL/FRECKLES

(Name) is just like… they’re so… so whoa. They’ve got this smile that lights up the room, hell, it could light up the whole world and they always have a sweet word for everyone and they never seem to get tired! Freckles wishes they could be like that sometimes… er, even though one side of them is certainly like that. (Name) is really what they aspire to be like; this kind person who’s bubbly and charming and normal. What Freckles doesn’t realize is that (Name) thinks of them the same way. The biggest thing is that Freckles doesn’t really treat (Name) any differently. Sure, they’re normal, but they’re also still just a person, aren’t they? Things actually progress quite easily from there, because the two of them aren’t thinking of each other as ‘out of my league’ or anything like that.

JOKER

They’re really something else, aren’t they? Well, there’s never enough sunshine in the circus, so as far as he’s concerned, they’re always welcome if they really want to hang around here! On the surface he acts carefree as ever. Deeper, however… it’s just so damn complicated. Even though he very much enjoys their company and thinks they’re a positive influence in everyone’s lives, he feels like he himself is unworthy of their light. Every time they get close, he second guesses what to do. Then he catches a glimpse of how the rest of the world treats (Name). They seem to feel just as alone in the world as he and his family. They might be ‘normal’ by the troupe’s standards, but they don’t… fit in. After that, he quietly reminds them that no matter what, they’ll always belong here among the circus, if they want to. That’s the first step to something a little… more.

JUMBO

Strange enough that someone who doesn’t have anything ‘wrong’ with them wants to hang around the circus in the first place. Stranger still that they’re getting cozy with the rest of the troupe. Shouldn’t they be with… you know… other normal people? It’s not that he doesn’t want them here, but he simply doesn’t quite understand it. He wonders what they’re seeing in everyone that makes them want to be here. Much as they all know that the inside matters, the rest of the world seems not to agree. That said, though, he’s got a soft spot for kind people like (Name), so it’s only a matter of time before he starts to admit to himself that he’s falling for them. Despite that he treats them with a lot of care, he… struggles to say anything to them about it. In his mind, it’s one thing to be with people like the troupe as friends; something romantic? That’s so different. If he confesses, it’s going to be a very shy, self-conscious confession indeed.

PETER

Oi, why are they hanging around so much, anyway? Just having a gawk at all the sideshow acts, right?! He’s got so many walls up, it makes China jealous, so… he’s very, very bitter to the idea of (Name) trying to make friends with all of them. He thinks they have some great life to return to, so he doesn’t get why they’re out here playing at being some kind of… some kind of what, anyway? A one-person charity pitying the poor circus freaks? On some level he does realize that their kindness is genuine. It’s just not something he comes across often outside his family, so he tries to think up any other explanation. And when he realizes he’s got feelings for them? … Fuck. He doesn’t even really know what to do, so he probably ends up not doing anything until his feelings suddenly explode and he’s yelling at them about how great they are and how they’ve ruined everything by getting him and the others “used to” being treated nicely and what happens when they decide they don’t care anymore?! It’s… a bit of a mess.

SNAKE

(Hold on! Did they just… they just petted me.) It would seem so, Wilde. (… Well, are they going to get ME next??) Hold on, Goethe, wait your turn. Particularly if they’re not the least bit afraid of the snakes, this is the kind of person who Snake gets incredibly nervous around. Not because he thinks they’re going to hurt him, but because kindness has been so rare in his life before the other circus members, he’s just… not quite accustomed to it yet. Even though it’s much better than being abused, someone so bright and sweet still stuns him a little. He’s in awe of them and their gentle smile, their caring words, the way they flit from one person to another spreading joy. And he knows what romantic feelings are like, of course, but he’s so thoroughly shy that he doesn’t think he’s anywhere near good enough for (Name). Still… he’s glad to be in their company, for as long as they think they can tolerate him. He enjoys being around them and their happy attitude, even if the rest of the world doesn’t seem grateful for it. (They don’t know wot they’re missing, bunch’a bloody gits.) Rudely worded, Wilde, but not inaccurate.

WENDY

Sure, look at them, being all kind… they’re a good person, until they’re not. This sort of personality is usually some kind of act, trying to make people feel secure only to stab them in the back. Although she’s not as openly contemptuous as her brother, she’s forever waiting for the shoe to drop. She thinks that (Name)’s sweetness and cheerful disposition can’t last forever, because aside from their little family, nobody has ever accepted them like this. Still, unlike Peter, she’s a bit quieter about everything; fake kindness is better than cruelty until it stops, so she’s not giving them a reason for it to stop. Somewhere in all this, she starts to… believe it’s not an act. Their kindness is extended to her quite often, and she begins to realize how much she enjoys that. They might be normal, but they seem to still be just a lonely person, and she understands what that feels like. Her confession is rather quiet, frank, in admitting that she knows they may not want to be with her. Even so, she still had to tell them, and… well, what happens from there is… up to the two of them.

[bvccy]

Can you write something with Mafia!Bucky or Avenger!Bucky where his enemies hurt the reader and Bucky's hell bent on revenge ? P.s love your blog <3

Nonny, you sent this prompt months ago (in July, I think), and I just now got to it. I almost didn't write it, actually, because it isn't something from my prompt list and I'm not sure I want to just take open prompts like this 😂 But I like protective!Bucky, so I wrote you a thing 💜

It turned out pretty long. Be aware it has some explicitly violent bits, and also some pining/angst. I wrote Avenger!Bucky, because mafia AUs seem OOC for him, but anyway I hope you like it!

By the way, what happens to the reader in this story might seem unlikely, but I did some research before I started writing and was basically inspired by this story (the link is spoilery, so I suggest you open it only after reading the fic lol).

Thank you for the prompt, and for your kind words! 🌺🌺🌺

— PAIRING: Avenger!Bucky x F!Reader — SYNOPSIS: Bucky falls in love with a girl working for Tony in Avengers Tower. He's trying to fit back in to society, fit in with the other Avengers, and maybe even get the courage to ask her out… But he almost loses her right before he has the chance to do it, and once Bucky makes sure she's safe, he goes to get revenge. — CONTENTS: Angst, hints of male masturbation, some explicit violence against bad guys, and a happy ending. — WORDCOUNT: 7.1k

It took a long time, but with the team's help Bucky managed to ease back into society, and into a form of service that suited him. Something he could do to reach a sort of peace with himself, to come back to the society he'd left for so long and no longer even recognised… And, more privately, to have something to do to keep his mind occupied. The therapy wasn't helping much, not that he could admit to that in so many words.

"It's going to take time," said Steve with brotherly sympathy. His hand rested heavily on Bucky's shoulder as they huddled around a table at the diner near Avengers tower, but his friend found it hard to look up at him.

"Yeah, I know."

"The doc knows what she's doing."

"Sure."

"Just trust the process. Trust yourself."

"Thanks a lot, Stevie."

He didn't like being blue like that. Caught between wanting to accept Steve's help and wanting to be honest, there wasn't much left for Bucky to say. He didn't believe a word his friend told him, didn't think Steve had any idea what it was like, but he had to trust him. There was no open avenue other than going rogue — and that wasn't a viable option.

"Sometimes, I think…" he started, and stopped, and laughed a bit sombrely, "I think the missions help a whole lot more than the shrink."

"Well, that's good," grinned Steve. "New assignment's coming up."

They raided an old base up in the Alps, a WWII relic that was too far up for the authorities to reach and make into a museum, and, thinking themselves forgotten by the world, some paramilitary bent on settling old scores had taken over. They had their scientists working on explosives, which made it easy to blow the whole thing up in one night. It was almost like old times.

"You got all of them?" asked Tony through their earpiece.

"Looks like it," sighed Steve, squinting at the ruin burning bright.

"Alright then, come back home. Unless you wanna do some sightseeing first."

"Nope. Seen enough the first time 'round."

Bucky stood by his side, gripping the rifle slung around his shoulder, unmoving against the chilling winds and the inferno in front of him. Something bothered him about that mission, it bothered him all the way back home, at the tower, at his mandated therapist, and into his lonely home.

Sleeping on the cold hard floor made it easier somehow, but it didn't help to remember why he was brought so low in the first place. Why he couldn't be like normal people anymore. Why he felt like a mangy dog every time he laid down, tired and restless, and curled up beneath threadbare sheets.

Wrapping up after the mission proved more challenging than actually doing it. He and Steve were stuck writing up reports about it for days afterwards, going through the files they salvaged, the recordings they recovered, keeping an account of all men killed… His mind wasn't up for it, and Bucky ended up taking walks around the tower every now and then, thinking and not thinking, letting his mind rest. The city pulsed around him, busier and noisier and uglier than he remembered, gripped by some sports event that week and filled with drunken youngsters with silly hats and long balloons, bonking each other in the head as they walked past. Against the shapeless sounds, Bucky let himself become lost as he walked circles around the building while the autumn sunset grew chiller all around him.

When he finally decided to head back up, it must have been around 8 in the evening. Even the receptionist at Stark Tower had gone home, but there were a few people outside, smoking, and there was light in the lobby. He stepped through, head down and hands in his pockets as he usually did, wary of being spotted, as if instinctively ashamed. An odd scent of rubber and alcohol hit him almost as soon as he went through the revolving doors. Looking up, Bucky saw one of the workers waiting by the elevator, and next to her one of those kids with a huge rubber hat in some team colours, balloon in one hand and red cup in the other — 'kid' he thought; the guy must've been in his 30s. He was trying to talk to her, but the office girl was focused on the metal doors in front.

She was dressed in the same sort of uniform all of Stark's people wore, muted colours and straight lines crinkled as the hours passed, with an access badge around her neck, clinging to a paper bag that must've held a croissant or cold pastry from the shop nearby that had just closed. Her feet, trapped in delicate shoes that were made for carpets more than streets, tapped on the ground as in her head she counted the floors until the elevator came back down and rescued her.

The boy swung back and forth as he faced the side of her and, with some difficulty, slurred:

"You haf a greight face…"

Bucky smirked as he saw her jaw tighten, but now that he was paying attention, he couldn't disagree. She had a perfect proportion of soft and sharp, a sweet set of features even while marred by tiredness and fright, thoughtful eyes coloured all the more cutely by her frown, and a mouth made for kisses. Hearing him as he got closer, the girl turned her head and breathed a sigh. He gave her a quick smile as he went around and gripped the drunkard.

"Alright, kiddo, off you go."

"Buh —"

"This isn't the place for you. Go find your friends."

Step by stumbling step, Bucky walked him to the exit and nearly shoved him out, but as soon as he found himself outside the kid saw something else of interest and lurched away by himself. When he went back in, Bucky saw the office girl was holding the elevator doors for him, a timid, grateful smile lighting up her face.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Don't mention it."

They spent the ride up trying not to look at one another, spending the ride up in silence. Bucky took his hands out of his pockets and made an effort to stand up straight while the girl clung to the railing — not afraid of him, was she? Surely he'd been pretty publicly exonerated; and he'd just helped her…

But as he filled up the next few days by working late into the night with Steve, he kept seeing her around — sometimes earlier, sometimes later, but she tended to go out for fresh air too, or a modest bite to eat, and she was always friendly. So maybe it was something else…

"Maybe she's just shy."

"Who?"

"Don't think I haven't seen you, Buck."

He turned to meet the stupid grinning face of his blond friend.

"I can talk to Stark's employees if I want to."

"I hope so!"

"Since when do you play matchmaker?" asked Bucky, suddenly feeling flustered — more at being caught than anything else. Although, what was he caught with?

He hadn't exchanged more than a few words with her, caught her name, remembered her floor, noticed the things she liked to eat and how she liked her coffee, and offered to trade complaints about their work if she was willing.

"It's just nice," shrugged Steve with an innocence he didn't merit, "seeing you more like your old self."

"Uh-huh."

She knew who he was, he'd figured that out quickly enough, and her calmness soothed Bucky more than he expected. She didn't ask questions he didn't want to answer, although he could see behind her eyes a sometimes burning curiosity. Perhaps she could read him too, because as soon as he started fidgeting, looking down at his shoes like a boy chastised, she offered up some awkward little detail from her life, or gossip about her colleagues, complaining about her boss, or talking about what she'd done over the weekend.

"We had a 'teambuilding' thing on Saturday."

"Oh yeah, what's what?"

"It's when the boss has some extra funding for social activities and makes us go places to waste our free time."

"Sounds fun," he grinned, knowing it would make her roll her eyes. "Where did you go?"

"Cinema. There was this movie about superheroes and clowns and there were some explosions."

"Was it horrible?"

"Yes, very. Could you hold my coffee, please?" she asked as she took out her wallet to pay the cashier.

"You shouldn't work such long hours, you know," he smiled down at her.

"It's only for this month," she shrugged. "Big project, boss needs us all here…"

It knocked the cheer right out of him to know he might not see her around so often after that. What if there was another mission? What if there was nothing? What excuse could he come up with to keep coming by?

Would she even miss their talks? Did she even care? Did she chat with him out of pity or a misplaced sense of charity? The girl spoke pretty calmly about those coming weeks of quiet work, as if these late-night talks didn't make any difference… Perhaps they didn't.

Perhaps they shouldn't.

Back in his apartment, cold and quiet like a burrow, Bucky was confronted once again by what he was. A sad and lonely man, an awkward cripple with a toy arm, too scared of his own dreams to sleep without the television on, too weak to even sleep on a bed. Between the mismatched dishes put together from a charity shop and the cracked mirror in the bathroom, he couldn't find a single thing that he could offer her, that would make him worthy of her, that would make him a man.

In his thoughts as he settled down to sleep, struggling with his animalistic body, he allowed himself to think of her in the hope that it would make him dream of sweeter things — though it never did. And all his touches were in vain, the light caresses up his thigh with those strange unfeeling metal fingers, like somebody else's hand, and the grips tempered by self-restraint that teased him to the point of madness, fingers threaded through his hair from the other side, all so that he could pretend it's her — all of it was much more than he should have done, yet every night was not enough.

The month passed, and then he only saw her sparingly, catching her as she left and he arrived for some late briefing, saying polite hello's in passing as if he wasn't already in love. His therapist noticed, pestering him about how he felt about women, what he thought about dating, if anyone had caught his eyes.

"It's none of your business, doc."

"You can't go through life all alone, James."

"Why not? I have, so far."

"Yeah, and how's that been working out for you?"

"Just fine," he smiled with deliberate malice.

"Still have trouble sleeping?"

"No," he lied.

"Having someone there could help you."

"That's great to know."

"Alright. I can see you're not in the mood for it today. How about you —"

She didn't finish saying it before he was out of his seat. Bucky didn't want her knowing that he thought the same, or that he'd started to ease into sleeping in a bed again all on his own.

Face first, fully awake, using it as a lewd prop as he imagined a certain girl beneath him, with sheets for a body and the pillow for a face. He held himself suspended just above as he eased his naked body forward, his back chilling in the dark room as sweat pooled, and with slow, nearly mechanical moves, Bucky thrust into the body he pretended was there. But no voice cried out, there was no one to speak to or call his name, there were no other sighs but his.

Another mission was announced, and he was jumping at the chance to go. The killing didn't feel good, but the hard jitters of the flight, the cold nights on stakeout, the distraction of the click of metal weapons in his own metallic hand all served as an escape, before he had to go back home to the cage that waited there. His apartment had never seemed so lifeless without another soul to share it, but whenever he thought to step on his pride and admit to his doctor she was right and just start "dating" someone, anyone, a frowning face looked up at him from within his memory, and lightened up when their eyes met, and her tired mouth pulled up in a smile and it was all for him and he knew he wouldn't have anyone else.

Like a present, he saw her again around Christmas. Tony threw a company party, and all the staff had to come. It was embarrassingly lavish, loud, and a little lurid, but Bucky didn't mind. Steve was enjoying himself, Clint was causing trouble, and Tony had arranged some fun little gadgets to keep people entertained. Everyone enjoyed the food, and the music with some carols, and the alcohol (more for the flavour), but try as he might he couldn't help but search — all night — and find — at long last — at a further table with the ordinary staff, his new friend among the masses. If his buddies noticed him pining, they said nothing.

Bucky watched her getting up to make for the table with the drinks, sauntering in a red dress with black lace trimming, poured on her like drying blood, hair clasped back and showing off her neck. He knew he spent too much time sucking in the sight of her before he came up with some excuse and got up too.

It was a strange mix for him to feel shy and hungry all at once. Approaching like a predator, he captured the far corner of the table, pretending to look for something else, and then slowly by degrees he noticed her — and saw her notice him as well, though she was worse at hiding it. A quick breath filled her chest, her shoulders squared, fingers lingering on the edge of crystal cups as she became aware of being seen.

"Hi," he dared say, looking up. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too," she smiled, suddenly relaxed. "How've you been?"

A thing about her made him burn — maybe it was her dress, the music, the low coloured lights shining off her hair, or his own shame as he suddenly remembered all the positions he'd placed her in, in his bed, in his head, all those ways she'd made him melt before and drip like lazy milk. As he stopped right by her side, Bucky felt his whole posture coming down, poise broken by her presence into something less than a weary old weapon, but more than a mere animal.

"Been doing alright," he nodded, fingers fiddling around his glass as he slowly got a little closer. "And you?"

She shrugged a bit wearily. "Things are fine… Work's more quiet. I've missed our talks, though," she grinned, but briefly, seeming to regret that little confession as soon as she said it, but she didn't catch his eyes light up.

"Oh yeah?" Bucky husked. "I've missed them too, you know." Missed you, he thought, as a nervous rumbling started building up at the back of his head. The girl look up as if she heard his thoughts, and maybe even shared them, and as he held her hopeful gaze in his he started saying: "Maybe we can —" but didn't finish, because that rumbling got closer, and it wasn't in his head.

They both looked up to see a strange shape hovering — a little drone with a branch of mistletoe hanging from it — and when Bucky turned to the tables, he could see Tony with a stupid little remote.

"You know the rules," he called out, cheered on by Nat and Pepper, with Steve trying to look disapprovingly but failing, a smirk betraying him. "Kiss! Kiss!"

Bucky sighed and threw them a scathing look, tearing his eyes away only to look down to the girl frozen in front, who seemed as angry as he was — at their moment being interrupted, at being made a spectacle of, at being so embarrassed — but she knew she couldn't show it. Her nails dug into the glass, clinging to the one solid thing she could as heavy breaths moved her chest, but she kept her focus somewhere lower than his face, and wouldn't look up anymore.

For a moment he hoped that she'd go through with it, but he knew better… This wasn't her way, it was too soon, too public, and though she'd just told him that she missed him maybe that didn't mean anything more. He barely opened his mouth to apologise for Tony, when she gathered enough courage to move and walked right past him.

"Damn it, Stark!" growled Bucky as he threw a death glare, then went out after her.

The girl half-jogged toward the elevators and he rushed after, mumbling apologies as he caught up. The doors opened right away and she stepped in, and Bucky reached it just in time to join her.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that, I didn't… Stark's an idiot. Please don't…" he breathed as he watched her hug herself. "Please don't be upset."

"Sorry for making a fuss," she muttered as she pressed for the ground floor. "I just don't… like this sort of stuff. I hate these parties."

"I know." Did he? He could guess, from the little he'd gotten to know her.

"They're just so… My boss made me come to this thing," she sighed, finally looking up at him and frowning, but smiling somewhat apologetically. "He says I need to be in more 'team-building activities'. But I hate it, there's nothing about Christmas at this party. It's so fake."

"I know," he nodded, suddenly truly understanding. He didn't talk about it much, but he could compare it to the Christmas parties from his day. Even in the middle of the war, with all the rations and the ruins, it still seemed like… more. "The soul's all gone out of it."

"Yes… I guess everyone feels the same, I'm just not good at putting up with it."

"You can relax now though, I won't… I'm not…" like them.

The girl looked down at her hands clutching the rails, and her tense face relaxed into something a bit more embarrassed. Her fingers were still holding tightly to the metal bar, nails digging into her flesh as if she could weld herself to it.

"It's not that. I've just always been nervous in elevators…"

"Really? Why?"

"I got stuck in one when I was little," the girl shrugged. "I was stuck right between the floors and the lights went off. And I was afraid that if I screamed or banged on the doors, the cables would snap and it would fall, I had no idea how these things worked," she laughed. "Had to wait a few hours for someone to find me."

"Poor kid," laughed Bucky, looking fondly at her now that she'd relaxed a bit, and opened up, and seemed to be forgetting all about the party.

She had gone down to escape and take a walk, so he joined her. That winter was dry and snowless, but even so it was quite cold at night. He wrapped his jacket around her shoulders as they paced a wide circle round the building, chatting just like before. The night breeze, or maybe the excitement, or the warmth of him surrounding her made the girl's face heat up and her shy smile didn't escape his notice. He didn't dare ask for more from her after what just happened, but they arranged to start meeting each other again — Bucky with the excuse that he needed to get away from Steve more often, and she that she had no one to have lunch with that she liked. It was good enough for him, and maybe next time he would ask…

He went home with her perfume still clinging to the collar.

They kept their promise to each other after the New Year, and met for lunch in the first week. He didn't ask for more then either, even though he spent the whole half hour that they had together thinking all the ways to say it, looking for a chance or a break in conversation.

Back at home he cursed himself, and tried to ask it in the mirror.

Everything out of his mouth sounded pathetic to his ears and he was even more cowardly the second time, though she seemed lovelier than ever.

"Same time next week?" he asked as they got up together.

"I can't Wednesday, long meeting in the afternoon. How's Thursday?"

"I, ah, have some training to do with Steve." He hadn't told her yet that they were planning another mission.

"Oh, alright then. Friday?"

"Sure thing, doll." It was a good day to finally ask her out: right before the weekend, less work to do, she'd be in a good mood… She might even say 'yes'.

Friday came around, a little cold and cloudy but with a milky sort of diffuse light that seemed to spread across the city. Bucky even made the effort to dress slightly better, hoping that she wouldn't notice — or would. Surely it wouldn't surprise her too much if he asked to spend time together… in the evening. To go out together, somewhere else, maybe even go dancing.

Standing ready on the 45th floor, he sent her a quick text. "Ready when you are."

"On my way <3" she texted back.

Bucky smiled fondly at her message as he sat down in a chair by the elevators.

But he didn't get to wait for more than a few minutes when an alarm suddenly went off. Fire drill? They had those sometimes in the office buildings… Then, a shattering sound rumbled through the walls as the tower shook with an explosion.

People's screams could be heard from all directions, frightened and confused. Looking outside, he could already see smoke covering the skyline. Before him, the elevator shafts screeched and groaned as metal scratched against metal, and more explosions came up from below.

He already had his hand on the phone to call her when Steve called him instead.

"Explosions, 85th floor," his friend said with a pant as he ran up the stairs. "Looks like a ten-man team, they're still here. We need you right now, Buck."

"On it," he said as he started running as well, trying not to think about what had happened to the girl.

Every nerve in his body told him to look for her, but until the villains were dealt with she would be in danger. He tried calling her anyway as he ran up two steps at a time — no answer. Maybe she was busy getting out with everybody else… Bucky put his phone away to take out a gun instead.

A grenade rushed by down the staircase shaft as he kept running, the boom echoing all the way back up to him in a shower of screams from other people at the bottom.

Tony got in touch as well, he was in the suit. Natasha had already caught up with Steve, and he reached them just in time to deflect a bullet aimed for her head with his metal arm.

"Thanks," she gasped. "There's four of them holed up in the corner office."

"Do we know who's behind this?" growled Bucky.

Steve threw a guilty look back, sitting crouched beneath his shield. "Seems we missed a spot back in Italy."

That mission in the Alps, the WWII bunker… So this was payback.

It took them two hours to clear all of them out from all the offices and hidden places, but a few managed to get away. Steve and Tony captured a few alive and planned to interrogate them, while Bucky wasn't feeling all that generous.

"I didn't kill anyone," he shrugged the metal shoulder while Natasha tried to apply pressure to the other one, bleeding from a gunshot.

"You shoved two guys off the 70th story, Buck," frowned Steve.

"I kicked them. Not my fault they couldn't survive the fall."

"And that guy with his gut full of lead?" smirked Natasha as she finished wrapping him up.

"My trigger finger slipped."

"Right."

"Metal hand, gets slippery with blood…"

"We could've gotten some intel from them," she sighed.

"Don't act all high and mighty, Nat," he frowned at her. She'd killed a couple too, and had to look down guiltily. Then, with a change of voice, he started asking: "Wh-where's… Er, do you know wh—… I, ah, was supposed to meet someone for lunch."

"We haven't checked for survivors yet," she said.

Bucky got to his feet and pulled his shirt back on as he started jogging toward the hallway.

"The lifts are down, take the stairs," the woman called back after him.

He paused, and a thought chilled him to the bone. Bucky reached the nearest elevator and tried calling it. Sure enough, it was out of order. With some difficulty, he pulled the doors open and peered through, but the whole shaft looked empty: the wires had snapped.

Too shocked to even curse, he just pulled his phone from the back pocket — crushed, it must've gotten broken in the fight. Bucky ran to the nearest office and tried to call her from there, but the call wouldn't go through. He called Tony instead and learned they were still rounding up the people outside.

"We've had a few deaths," the man sombrely said as police sirens blared in the background. "Security guards, and the people working near the explosion sites."

"What about elevator accidents?"

"We haven't checked for that ye—"

Bucky hanged up and started running. All the lifts seemed stuck somewhere between floors, except for the one that had snapped — the one closest to the blasts. It was also the one closest to her office, the one she usually took when she came to him… A bloodcurdling fear taking over his whole being, he made for the basement before he could think another thought.

There were still people inside that had hidden away in offices or supply closets and were just now running away while a bomb squad was going up, with some firemen trailing behind and a SWAT team trying to secure the area. His shoulder wound was closing up, not that bumping into all those people helped — it kept opening back up and he trailed blood behind, but in the mess of broken glass and bullet casings, it all got lost.

The bottom of the building was a mess. Another two bombs have gone off there, probably at the same time as above, and the dust had barely had time to settle. A few of the pillars seemed to be barely holding on, but the building was too secure to be brought down that easily. Huffing through the black smoke, the smell of burnt wires and heated concrete, still dripping a bit of blood and filthy with it on his face and hands, Bucky stepped through the debris until he found the collapsed elevator. The doors were bent outward from the impact, and he hoped with everything he had that this… hadn't been her fate; that she was outside and safe, being counted among the survivors, or hidden away somewhere like a frightened mouse.

He called her name, but heard nothing. He wasn't sure if he should be glad or even more worried, and with a trembling voice, he called again. Nothing…

And then, a hollow knock resounded.

"Doll? Are you in there?!"

"B-Bucky?" her frightened voice called out, scratchy with pain and a wet sounding cough he didn't like.

"Hold on!"

It was more difficult to pull the doors off, twisted as the metal was, and once he did that he was met by a mess of wires coiled at the bottom. It was then that he realised what saved her: the blast had caused the wires to snap and they coiled at the bottom, softening the fall. Bucky ended up having to go one floor higher and reach her from above, but he reached her eventually.

The poor thing was terrified, but could still smile when she finally saw him. She'd fallen nearly 50 floors, her face was cut and bruised, she had three broken ribs and probably a broken arm as well, and though tears had painted paths through the dust on her cheeks she wasn't crying anymore. Happy and alive, she struggled to get up the little bit she could, yearning for him as much as he did for her.

"I've got you," Bucky whispered as he gingerly got in beside her, trying not to let the shaking in his voice come through. "You're alright, we'll get you out of here…"

"What happened?" she asked in a small voice.

"A… certain group attacked the building. We took care of them, don't you worry."

"They're all dead now?"

He didn't want to say it, but couldn't lie when he looked up and caught her eyes as he kneeled beside her. "Not all. Not yet."

Bucky didn't know how he was going to get to those in Tony's custody — well, the police's custody now — but as soon as he saw her safe and tended to in the hospital, he called Steve and arranged for a flight back to that bunker.

"They won't be there again, Buck, they know we're onto them."

"So find out where they are," he growled. "I told you we should've done a sweep of the place before we blew it up, Steve."

"Don't start with that again," he sighed, sounding contrite and angry but underneath it somewhat afraid of his friend right now. "We messed up, I messed up… We'll fix it."

"You're damn right. Find them and have the jet ready in 20 minutes."

It felt a little like back in the day when Steve did something thoughtless and Bucky had to bring him back in line. It felt serious then too, a scrape in a back alley could be life-and-death, but it was never as serious as this. She's safe though, he thought to himself, she's alive. But then, another voice answered in his head, That's not good enough.

He flew with Steve, Nat, and Clint in tow, but could only think of that frightened little girl stuck in a death trap, crashing 50 stories down, living her greatest fear and nearly dying if not for a slip of luck, waiting hours in the dark until somebody found her, breathing in with broken ribs, unable to get up or cry for help — and even if she did, nobody could hear her.

And still, she found the strength to smile, if only for his sake. She looked at him from that hospital bed like he'd hung the moon, and Bucky told himself it was just because he was the first to find her.

Tony tracked the group in a little island off the northern Russian coast called Severny: a sparsely populated place that still held some military bases, a weather station, and what was left of a few villages after the Soviets tested atom bombs there.

What they were looking for was another disused bunker on the western side. They landed undetected, then marched across the snow and ice until they reached the place. Looking like something between a fort and a rough-hewn piece of mountain set adrift, it seemed lifeless from outside, but they knew better.

"There's a vent shaft on the south side," said Natasha as she scanned the area with binoculars.

She barely finished saying it before Bucky went ahead.

"Wait a sec," whispered Steve, "we've gotta —"

"Oh, you suddenly have a plan now?" he threw back over his shoulder. "We'll split up."

Clint chuckled as he readied his bow, and even Nat had to hold back a smirk.

"Barnes has a point," she smiled. "They won't be ready for us, not so soon after their hit."

From the vents, he'd landed in a supply room where five of them were gathering materials to fix their plane. He killed one by landing on his neck, shot another three inside, and shot the last one in the back just as he was out the door. The lightbulb creaked as it swung overhead, painting half of his stern face yellow, the other half darkened with drying blood.

He walked calmly down their halls, one rifle at the ready, another slung across his back, stepping lightly as he listened for any nearby sound. The walls were thick concrete that muffled noises well, and the doors were metal slabs spread few and far between.

With the tip of his weapon, Bucky inched open the first door he found parted, but saw no one inside. He barely stepped through as he tried to look around, when he heard the echo of far off shouts and gunshots: the rest of the team had made it in. From the room next to his, two soldiers came out to investigate. As they whispered to each other and readied their guns, he exited the room and stood behind them, steading his rifle as he aimed right for one's head. The bastard barely hit the ground before his pal knew what had happened, and as he turned he caught Bucky's second bullet right in the face.

Stepping over their convulsing corpses, he went toward the racket Clint and Nat were making, then turned around the corner and waited for the reinforcements to come through. In a spray of bullets, he littered the floor with a first batch before the ones behind them caught up and doubled back around the corner. Bucky dropped the bulkier rifle for a pair of handguns and walked toward them, and the first one to look around the corner got shot through the eye. By the time the second one tried to point a rifle at him, Bucky was there to yank it from his hands and pull him close enough to shoot him through the mouth as he tried to call for backup.

"East wing's clear," came Clint's voice through his earpiece.

"I'm holed up somewhere west," said Steve as bullets bounced off of his shield. "Buck, what's your status?"

"South's clear. On my way to you."

He arrived at a larger room filled with old jeeps and a few rocket launchers following the sound of Steve's shield bouncing off the walls and knocking into people. Splatters of blood trailed down to the floor where a few corpses fell, and in the middle, Steve was trying to fight one black-clad bear of a man while dodging two more shooters from above. One of them spotted Bucky as soon as he was in the room, and almost grazed him but the shot hit the wall instead. Gritting his teeth, Bucky stepped back behind the door as he tried to take aim upwards, but the other man ran away.

It was easy for Steve to do away with the other guy and neutralise the shooter that was left. As his shield returned to him, he stood up to greet his friend.

"Nat took the north wing."

"We better go join her, then," said Bucky, reloading his gun as he turned right back around.

"Hey," Steve muttered as he jogged up to him. "Are you ok?"

"I'm not angry with you, Stevie," he sighed. "If that's what you were worried about."

"It's not…"

"There's a first."

"Alright, maybe I was a little —"

He didn't have time to finish before Clint called in to say they needed backup.

The final assault was against an annexe where all the remaining troops retreated, sealed off with a mess of metal and debris while they tried to break through to the outside. Clint's explosive arrows did away with some of it, but then as the dust cleared they started shooting back. Steve was just in time to shield them off while Nat and Bucky returned fire.

As soon as there was a brief pause while they reloaded, Bucky got out from behind the shield and kept shooting at the opening until he got close enough to launch a small grenade through it. The blast sounded through the walls together with a patter of cries and curses. More dust fell around their ears as, up in front and just out of the line of fire, Bucky punched with his left fist at the metal weakened by the blast, then leaned back and hit it once again, growling with a growing mix of pain and anger. He braced his right hand up against it, then hit the barrier again, denting it more and more each time, enough to loosen one metal sheet and pull it out.

"They've got their commander with them," said Clint as he took aim. "They'll do anything to get him out."

"So will we," frowned Steve, and for once Natasha doubted he meant to merely arrest someone.

She took position on one side, ready to shoot whoever showed up, and Clint stood opposite, while Steve deflected the stray shots that made it through until he could reach Bucky and begin to help. Between the two supersoldiers, it didn't take long to tear it down.

Bucky made it through first and had his hand on the knife strapped around his thigh just in time to jam it through the ear of the nearest guard, grabbing him by the head with his other hand to make sure the knife struck deep. He watched as life left the man's eyes before pulling it out and throwing it at another one who was trying to shoot Steve. From behind, one of Clint's shots took down another before he could throw a grenade, leaving it to explode right underneath him and take out two more of his buddies.

Heaving with an exhaustion that burnt, animated with a pain still hidden underneath a veil of anger, Bucky took the rifle from around his back and started shooting at the last contingent. Steve's shield got stuck in the wheels of the machine they were trying to use to cut through the rock, and Nat took out its operators.

By now, Bucky only hoped Steve wouldn't let his honour get in the way this time, so before his friend got a chance to change his mind, he took them out in a spray of bullets: shooting at the ones hiding in a car, firing until the bulletproof windows were shattered, and he heard them scream in pain. Another time, he might have seen the benefit of taking a few of them in, squeezing them for info. But as he killed them one by one, all he could think about was his wounded girl back home — how scared she was when he first found her, like a bird fallen from high with a broken little wing, how weak her cries had sounded, and hopeless, and because of these sick bastards, she had almost died in the way she feared the most

Guiltily, he couldn't hold back the self-pitying thought of how close he'd been to telling her how he really felt, how close he'd been to losing her.

Without any hurry, Bucky reached the last car they had hidden in and opened the door with a kick. A clutter of corpses fell through, fallen all over each other, dripping one thick cord of blood down to the floor like a noose set upside down. His hand tightened around the rifle, ready to shoot at them one last time for good measure, but then his thoughts turned to his girl and he knew she'd disapprove… With a weary sigh, he turned around and left them. He just wanted to go back home.

Bucky was beside her when she woke up the next day. He'd taken the time to wash himself a bit, scrub the blood off and get a change of clothes, and was just about to fall asleep himself when she opened her eyes. Breathlessly he leaned down to hold her hand, smiling back at her incredulous but happy face.

"Hey there," he whispered. "How do you feel?"

"Fine… Better now."

He smirked and tilted his head in disbelief. Every breath caused a little wince to twitch on her tired face.

"Oh don't look at me, I bet my face is all swollen…"

"You've got some scratches and bruises, nothing to worry about. Doctors say the ribs are the worst thing. You'll have to take it easy for the next few months…"

The girl gave an indistinct grumble, shifting gingerly on the bed as the sleep left her and she became more aware of the pain.

"I'll get you some water, then I'll call the nurse."

He stayed with her while she had her breakfast, tasting it a bit at her insistence so that they could suffer together. He got up to leave before they came around to clean her up a bit.

"I'll come back later, doll."

"You don't have to…"

Bucky regarded her with his hands shoved in his pockets, knuckles still a little scraped, the metal hand just slightly dented from where it had punched through a wall — this wouldn't be the time to tell her, so he plainly shrugged.

"I want to."

"You probably have better things to do," she smiled guiltily.

He could wait until she got a little better…

"But I don't," he shook his head, trying not to smile too brightly at the thoughts that came unbidden: them, together, going out at night and holding hands only a few months from now. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

The girl look up at him with a fresh colour in her cheeks, as if she understood.

"At least get some rest first," she slowly grinned. "You look the way I feel."

"Cracking jokes," Bucky huffed, pretending to be offended. "You'll be back up in no time."

With one last squeeze of her hand, he turned around to leave, his head bowed and grounded as his heart fluttered in his chest. Then, at the scratchy little sound of her voice, he turned back to hear her say:

"There's nowhere else I'd rather you be, either…"

The way her smile lit up her eyes filled the room brighter than the sunrise could, and he knew then he'd never leave her side again if he could help it.

[gwendeeagain]

How I wrote the Demon fic

Don't draw devil's traps in janitors' closets is one of my longest fic series I’ve ever written, the most notable of which would be my Demon Gakushuu fic, if you’ve seen it. 

In partial response to an ask post (link here), I’ve decided to revisit my writing of this fic series! It was quite a long journey for me and I think it might be fun (?) sharing it with everyone. It’s rather long, so I’ll tag it under “keep reading”. 

FYI this thread contains major spoilers for the fic (and would honestly make no sense if you do not have prior knowledge of it).

I'll just refer to the first fic in the series as Books because it has an insanely long title. Subsequent fics are in order Burgundy, Potential, Illuminate, Illuminate rewrite, and Addendum. The main series is linked here.

Addendum is not linked in the main series for reasons I'll explain below. (link here)

Books

I think one of my biggest mistakes writing Books is my lack of plot planning, and subsequently how thematically inconsistent it became. I start off most my fics with a rough idea of how I want the story to end, and a few good themes to carry me through the plot as I write, but for Books I started off with the first chapter and nothing else. If you followed the notes of my fic you'd probably have witnessed my gradual descent into uncertainty and despair as the fic spiralled out of my control due to how wrong I felt it was becoming.

The fic took a surprisingly hard toll on me. I absolutely hated it. I refused to mark it as complete because I was dissatisfied with how it ended. I thought that everyone was out of character, that I lost the original ending and goal in my head, that it was thematically messy such that I couldn't justify any ending I tried to come up with, and I was just grasping at straws trying to make it work. 

The three things that bothered me were Gakushuu’s wings, Koro-Sensei and the introduction of Aina. When I started this fic I had plans to kill off Koro-Sensei at the end, however as the fic went on it became a celebration of life and learning how to live, and I knew I couldn’t bring myself to have any death in this fic... but at the same time I had Gakushuu find a lot of meaning in Koro-Sensei’s (to-be) death and I didn’t want to undo that. The wings were on a similar note, because Gakushuu spend 50k words finding out who he is and accepting that he was different. Turning that message around and making him go back to being “the same” ate me up inside, but at the same time I set-up the Demon Society in such a way that they would kill Gakushuu if he didn’t have his wings, and it’s supposed to be a happy ending, dammit! Aina was a particularly egregious case because I threw her (and Ikeda) in without any prior warning at the very last minute. I already had a whole world and setting planned for them which I never got to expand on in the previous chapters because I was so anxious about the other two points, and when it came down to the last chapter I realized I had no set-up for these two, who were supposed to be major players in the finale. Basically I was bad at writing.

Even now I cannot fully articulate why it was terrible for me, but compounded with my real-life stressors, I suppose it just became a bit too much to deal with. (This is a piece of fiction that I am creating from scratch. If I can't even get this under control, what hope do I have for everything else?)

((For come disclosure I was never formally diagnosed with any mental illness, but my parents are the sort of people who don’t believe mental illness exists anyways. I would say that I’ve had depressive episodes when I was younger and sometimes even now, but I’ve learnt my ways of dealing with them!))

Burgundy

Four days later I published Burgundy, a short sequel to Books, very shortly after only because I had already finished writing by that time. I actually do still have several half-finished follow ups at that point, but I couldn't bring myself to complete any sequels because I couldn't even come to terms with the ending of the main story. (Those wips are lost to me now.) I think I was hoping that forcing myself to publish the sequel would show me that it was "no big deal" that the main fic didn't end the way I hoped it would, but it succeeded in making me feel worse.

Potential

About one month after that I wrote Potential. It was a three parter, somehow a fifth of the length of the main fic, that followed Gakuhou's perspective prior to the events of Books. It was a prequel which imo made it easier to write, because I still couldn't move on from Books yet. I think writing Potential was me trying to remind myself why I wrote Books in the first place, to perhaps reignite my original passion for the series. It's kind of funny to think about in hindsight, and a little meta, because Potential was a lead up to the events in Books. It worked... a little bit, I think. I still couldn't reconcile my feelings for the whole thing, but through it I got to revisit the original premise that I fell in love with and expand more on worldbuilding it. I could reprise Aina and Ikeda and finally write about the world I planned to introduce them in in the first fic and give more context and insights to how the demon society was supposed to work.

Illuminate

Six months after Potential, I ran into a comment that said, "what would Gakuhou have done if Gakushuu had died?" And for some reason it struck an epiphany in me. After that I wrote Illuminate in one night, cried myself to sleep, waited one more night to proofread it, and then published it. Illuminate was an AU to the first three fics in the series, and it was a fic about grief and mourning. Spoiler alert: I straight up killed Gakushuu in that fic. And somehow that was what I needed.

I quite literally killed my first fic - I upended the terrible ending I hated from Books - everything I had been uncertain about at first? I killed it. Plot points didn't fit my original plans? Killed it. (When I reread the death scene, I... honestly think I was unnecessarily cruel. I must have really been out of my mind when I wrote it, hah!)

And then I wrote myself a love story about missing it, grieving it, and finally letting go of it. It was heart wrenching for me - I made Gakuhou cry about what he lost, what could have been, what he realized he loved, and at the end of it all he could say "I love you and I can move on from you." And I did!

Illuminate (Rewrite)

Illuminate Rewrite, one year later, was me revisiting Illuminate to reflect on myself where I've come with this series. I actually just swapped the places of two paragraphs to change the mood at the end for something more contemplative. I elaborated a bit more on this in my notes for Rewrite, so I won't repeat them here.

Honestly, I still have a hard time coming back to reread Illuminate even after the whole debacle has happened. I attached a lot of emotions through my journey with this, and revisiting it each time takes quite a bit out of me.

Addendum

Addendum was just me having fun! After Illuminate, I managed to reconcile my feelings with the fic series. I was finally able to mark Books as complete and move on from it, and afterwards I wrote a fun little au sequel to Illuminate so that Gakushuu can live again. I could creatively expand on ideas and just do... whatever! It's more of a loose connection of plot points than a real fic, honestly.

Addendum follows Gakushuu in a future hundreds of years later, after every human who he's once known in Books has died. And... he moves on! Gets a job, makes friends, lives his life, and most importantly move on.

I chose to publish in a separate collection, however, because it was an incomplete story and I didn’t want to have a half-complete fic tacked on to what I have settled in my heart as a complete fic collection.

And that’s about it! <3

[recurring-polynya]

I hoped you would reblog that! :3 A fic after Aizen arc, where Ichigo DOES NOT lose his powers, and seireitei is in full party mode. Someone asks where Rukia is. Renji's like "she went to get snacks". and Orihime, tipsy as hell, just blurts out "Of course you know where she is! You're so cute together!!" and everyone is either like "yeah true" or "WAIT SINCE WHEN?". aka the dorks get peer pressured into realizing they should date already By Everyone. Feat. Women's Society paparazzi.

Hey, so you know how always spend a ton of time on my really long fics and don’t post them until I’m all the way done so that I can make everything internally consistent, etc, etc? What would it look like, as your therapist would say, if I just wrote some nonsense and posted it? And if I feel like writing more chapters later, maybe I will? To post something with a 1/? Also, what if was Canon, Never Heard of Her? and also full of things that do absolutely do not belong in Soul Society (like potato salad?) What would that look like?

Anyway, here you go @unohanadaydreams. I’m sorry it took me so long to do this and also I also messed up your prompt a bunch (I figure that everyone knows how bad Renji has it for Rukia and wouldn’t rag him about it, so I switched ‘em), but I think I captured the spirit of it, along with the spirit of that filler episode where everyone makes movies.

Enough! Enough intro! Here it is!

Heroes of the Hueco Mundo Invasion – In Love!!

“HELLLLLLOOOOOOOOO, SQUAD 10!” Inoue Orihime yodeled, flinging herself into the courtyard, where a barbeque of epic proportions was gearing up.

“Orihime!” Matsumoto screamed.

“YO!” Kurosaki Ichigo announced, stumbling in behind her, arms raised victoriously. “What has two thumbs and just saved Soul Society?”

“This guy!” Orihime squealed, trying to point her thumbs at Ichigo as he also tried to point his thumbs at himself.

Ichigo squinted at the hands waving around his general vicinity. “How many thumbs do I have? Hey, hey, Ishida?! Did I grow any extra arms while I was fighting Aizen?”

Sado Yasutora suddenly plunged through the gate behind them panting and out of breath.

“Are you two drunk?” Captain Hitsugaya demanded.

“My new best friend Captain Doctor Unohana Retsu gave me the good stuff, because I am the Hero of Three Worlds, possibly Four,” Ichigo explained. 

“Painkillers,” Chad gasped. “He’s on a very high dose of painkillers. It’s…okay… I'm… keeping an eye on him. He’s still really fast, though.”

“What about Orihime?” Rukia demanded, from where she was trying to sculpt a bowl of potato salad into a diorama of herself defeating Rudabone. Or possibly Chappy. “She wasn’t even hurt.”

“She was very nervous about Kurosaki,” Uryuu explained, sauntering up next to Chad. “So Lieutenant Kotetsu gave her some of Captain Unohana’s home-brewed ginger beer, which was… allegedly non-alcoholic?”

“I feel so powerful right now!” Orihime chimed in. “Like my body is filled with thousands of dubstepping bees!”

“I literally cannot feel any part of my body, right now,” Ichigo chipped in, “but at least I didn’t lose my Soul Reaper powers while performing the Final Getsuga, like some sort of contrived plot hook.”

“Why is it called the Final Getsuga, then?” Orihime asked.

“Beats me!” Ichigo hooted.

“It’s because Europe had just released ‘The Final Countdown’ when I invented it, and that song slaps!” Isshin shouted from somewhere near the kegs.

“DAD!” Ichigo shouted. “Dad, I have something to tell you! Also, Rukia, you are like my other dad, if I had two dads!”

“I am not,” Rukia protested.

“Maybe Byakuya is like my other dad, then, which would make you my sister.”

“I am definitely not,” Byakuya protested. (Did you, gentle reader, think that Byakuya would not attend one of Squad 10’s infamous keggers on the occasion of Aizen’s defeat? You were incorrect. Byakuya is a great fan of Matsumoto’s guac.)

“Listen, Dads,” Ichigo insisted. “I defeated Aizen and I think that definitely means I should get to borrow the car on Saturday, but also, Orihime proposed to me and I said yes , we are now engaged to go to the movies the next weekend that we are back home. Which is why I need the car, you see.”

Orihime dabbed.

“My precious son, I am so proud of you!” Isshin announced, throwing his arms wide. “But you can take the bus to the movies like a normal teenager.”

“Way to go, Orihime!” Rukia congratulated, abandoning her potato salad to perform an elaborate handshake/high-five routine with Orihime.

“This is so exciiiiitiiiiiing!” Matsumoto wailed. 

Ise Nanao sidled up to Kusajishi Yachiru. “Madam President,” the Vice-President of the Shinigami Women’s Association intoned gravely. “Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

Hisagi Shuuhei sidled up to the other side of Kusajishi Yachiru. “Are you thinking about a special Seireitei Bulletin feature, presented in cooperation with the Shinigami Women’s Association–”

“–'Heroes of the Hueco Mundo Invasion – In Love!!’” Nanao and Hisagi chorused in unison.

Yachiru blinked. To be honest, she had mostly been thinking about the red bean dumplings she knew Captain Hitsugaya had hidden somewhere earlier, and had not been paying much attention to any of the goings-on up until this point. This may seem to stretch belief, but you have to understand, gentle reader, that this amount of shouting represented a pretty typical day at Squad 11.

Yachiru bounded up to the former ryouka. “Hey, Pencil!” she demanded. “Are you and Muscles dating?”

“Chad!” Ichigo yelped, grabbing at his own hair. “You sneaky person!”

“Uryuu!” Orihime gawped, clapping her hands over her cheeks. “You sly dog!”

“No,” Uryuu corrected stiffly.

“You are mistaken,” Chad added.

“He’s way out of my league,” they said at the same time.

There was a long silence.

Uryuu looked up at Chad out of the corner of his eye.

Chad looked down at Uryuu out of the corner of his eye.

Ichigo was making tiny, excited claps.

Orihime was bouncing.

“Doooooo iiiiiiiiittttttt,” Captain Kyouraku said out of the side of his mouth, pretending like nobody could tell it was him. Everybody could tell it was him.

Rukia straightened up to her full height. “Do it, you dorkuses. The Women’s Association will pay for it. If these two dummies can get their act together, you haven’t got any excuse.” She glanced over at Ichigo and Orihime, who were gazing longingly at one another, and promptly did a horrified double take. 

“Errr…” Uryuu waffled.

“I understand if you’re uncomfortable participating in a Soul Society-related activity,” Chad offered an easy way out.

Uryuu opened his mouth, looked at Chad, and closed it again slowly. “I’ll take their money and waste it frivolously. That is within my moral code.”

“YAYYYYY!” Orihime squealed. “Triple date! Can I be an honorary member of the Shinigami Women’s Association?”

“What do you mean, 'triple date’?” Rukia tried to interrupt.

“Yes,” Nanao proclaimed. “But it will be three separate dates, covered as a three-part series.”

“In the World of the Living,” Shuuhei broke in. “The readers are crazy-go-nuts for the World of the Living.”

“Who is the third couple?” Rukia pressed.

“Genius,” Nanao threw a finger gun at Shuuhei. “Matsumoto, you’ll do host segments? Pre- and post-date interviews and such?”

“Give me a clothing budget and you’ve got a deal” Matsumoto agreed.

“WHO! IS! THE! THIRD! COUPLE?!” Rukia demanded.

“You and Renji, obviously,” Orihime replied. “You two are sooooo cute together! I bet your readers would love that, wouldn’t they, Lieutenant Hisagi? If Rukia and Renji went on a date in the World of the Living? Rukia’s like a princess or something here, right?”

“They will go apeshit , Hisagi replied breathlessly. "You have to understand that Abarai is actual very well-known among the Bulletin readership for his incredibly popular column, 'Let’s Do Shikai!!’ This is essentially the Soul Society equivalent of David Beckham marrying Posh Spice.”

“I…. don’t know who that is,” Rukia stammered.

“How do you know who those people are?” Uryuu asked, perplexed.

“I read Living World newspapers,” Hisagi excused with a shrug.

“Rukia, do you have something to tell me?” Byakuya frowned.

“No!” Rukia yelped. “I’m not dating Renji! I have no interest in going on a date with Renji, even though he consistently moves Heaven and Earth for me and we have really similar taste in craft beers and he’s objectively, like, smoking hot. I refuse to go on a date with Renji. Don’t ask me any more questions.”

“Where is Renji, anyway?” Ichigo frowned. “I don’t hear him shouting, so he must not be here.”

“He went to go pick up a bunch of snacks for Matsumoto because he’s a sucker and I’m sure he stopped off to trade out his sunglasses for polarized ones because he says they’re better for late afternoon glare,” Rukia excused very quickly.

“Rukia,” Ichigo noted, suddenly sounding a lot more sober. “Listen to yourself.”

“Soooooooo cuuuuuuuuuuuute!” Orihime repeated, exaggerating her lip movements.

“She’s not wrong,” Uryuu pointed out.

Chad did Big Shrug Arms and nodded in agreement.

At this moment, the man in question strode into the courtyard, carrying several grocery bags and wearing a pair of polarized sunnies. “Hey, party people!” Renji greeted cheerfully, somehow managing to hold four overstuffed grocery bags in one arm while he fished something out of one of them. “Why’s everyone so quiet?”

“Hey, Abarai, will you do me a big favor?” Hisagi asked innocently.

“Yeah, sure,” Renji agreed. He found whatever he was looking for. “Oi, Ruki-Ruki,” he called, tossing a small paper packet to Rukia. “They had those melon-flavored gummy salamanders you like when you get hammered.”

Rukia caught them easily, her cheeks flaming red.

“'Ruki-Ruki’?” Ichigo mouthed to her, making the most judgemental face he could manage under the influence of Unohana’s Special Sauce.

“So, what’s can I do you for, Shuuhei?” Renji asked, trying to find an empty spot to deposit his bags.

Shuuhei told him.

“Oh,” said Renji. He looked over at Rukia, who managed an awkward, sheepish half-smile as she clutched her candies. “Well, shit.”

[loxxxlay]

100 word meme

hiii, so I’ve been wanting to try this for a while since it seems to work out really well for @veliseraptor and i feel like it’d work out well for me too? so gonna give it a shot

rules are you vote for a fic and i write 100 words in it. so basically if u want a fic posted faster, vote for it, because a vote means i’ll actually work on it (hopefully XD). it’s mostly just a helpful way for me to have tangible goals that i can work toward without having to make decisions about what those goals are myself XD

[edit: oh yeah you can vote for up to 3]

so without further ado, here’s the list (as is traditional, with bonus excerpts as a reward for helping me with executive brain functions lmfao):

1. (Figment of Choice) [tw grandthorki shenanigans]

“Oh, but dear, if I had known it’d be like this, I would have had you change ages ago. You’re simply beautiful!” He smiled and ran the ends of his fingers down Loki’s jaw.  

Loki resisted the urge to bite them. Monster, he thought. Tears gathered in his eyes. “Please,” he begged. “Please don’t do this to me—”

“Loki, we’ve talked about this.” The Grandmaster made a disapproving clicking noise with his tongue. “Yesterday even. Didn’t I specifically tell your brother how I prefer those who are willing. Those who enjoy what Sakaar has to offer. What I have to offer. Are you telling me you’re not one of those people?”

“Yes,” Loki said by habit; then, “I mean, no—no, I am, I just—I don’t think—I can’t—”

“Shhh,” the Grandmaster said. “You know how much I hate hearing don’t and can’t. Come along, sweetheart, get up. As lovely as you are, I’m not only here for you. Time’s a’ticking.”

2. (The troy and lola story of my soul) [tw implied noncon/dubcon and csa]

Troy watched his friend disappear into his carriage, and then he watched a butterfly trail from flower to flower, and then he watched the sun approach the white mountains in the distance. His legs ached with the strain of standing as he watched, but he didn’t move. Moving would mean admitting the fact that his twin had been suffering for years. Suffering the same torment he himself had escaped. Moving would mean having to face the fact that his brother (sister?) might resent him. 

As he stood, he tried—he focused his entire mind upon an imagined woman lying nude in the lounge of a brothel. He tried to feel what she felt. He tried to feel the weight of a body on top of his or the repetitive aching of his insides. He tried to feel the unbearable numbness infecting his limbs with cold. But there was nothing, no sense of life from his twin. Nothing except the ghosts of his own memories.

“My Lord,” Margaret called from the patio, “won’t you come inside?”

Troy sighed but didn’t turn. “You know to call me Theodore.”

“It’s cold out here,” Margaret said as if she hadn’t heard. “At least let me fetch your cloak.”

Troy didn’t answer, and a moment later, he heard the door bang shut. He waited a bit longer. For what? He didn’t know. But then the crickets started chirping, and the chill of nighttime wind raised goosebumps on his arms, and he managed to stomach his fear and turn to face the house.

3. (Forget Me Not, Remember Still) [tw domestic abuse, grandthorki shenanigans]

“You look so sad,” Thor said, and Loki hated that his voice sounded at all like the Grandmaster’s. “What’s bothering you?”

Unsure whether it was safe to answer, Loki pressed his lips together.

“Tell me,” Thor said, just as gently, but—Loki could sense the difference in his patience.

He took a breath. “It’s nothing,” he said.

“It’s something,” Thor argued. “Now tell me—or do I have to remind you what happens when you try to think for yourself.”

Loki steeled himself against a flinch. Almost subconsciously, his hand came up and his fingers pressed against the bruises at his neck. The shirt he’d wanted to wear would have covered them, but this—it exposed him. It made him look weak, like a victim—and truly, was he not a victim now? Was he not being abused?

Wincing, he looked away from the mirror before the sight of himself could make him cry.

“Oh, Loki,” Thor said. “You’ve made some mistakes. All those marks show is that you’ve learned better. They’re nothing to be ashamed of.”

To you, Loki thought, and then shut the thought off. 

4. (On Our Terms) [tw grandthorki shenanigans]

The Grandmaster sighed loudly. “I don’t mean to offend you, but your society sounds quite borish.”

“It is,” the Valkyrie said, “but it’s the one we got, and I doubt you have room for three thousand potentially borish people here, so . . .”

“Yes, yes, your point has been made,” the Grandmaster said. “But you see—I’ve grown quite fond of these two, and I’m not quite sure if I want to let them go. Especially since they seem so eager to stay.”

“Yeah, I get it. So what’s your price?” she asked in a casual tone.

“My price? Goodness, gracious! I’m not the type to just sell these poor boys to the highest bidder. My dear dear 142, you should know better than to suggest such a thing! Absolutely unbelievable.”

There was a silence. Loki held his breath, closed his eyes, and tried not to think. Whatever happened, it wouldn’t matter what he did. It wouldn’t matter what he said. In fact, it might make things worse if he spoke, and things were already bad enough. The best he could do was keep silent and be good and just . . . wait. Wait to be dragged back into their nightmare.

Under the table, Thor’s free hand slipped around his and squeezed. Loki was numb, too numb, to care. He didn’t squeeze back.

At last, the Grandmaster gave a long put-upon sigh. “I suppose, I might be more . . . favorable to your wishes if you were to, hmm. Play a game with me.”

The Valkyrie shifted in her seat. “What kind of game?”

5. (thor ficlet whumptober chapter 4) [tw past noncon]

With a deep breath, Thor slipped on a robe over his nightshirt and pants (he no longer slept without a shirt), and headed toward the door. There was one person, in all of Asgard, besides her, who knew. His brother had every right to be angry. Even now, Thor remembered the things he had said the night before—before—and those had been his own words, not hers.

As he came to the door, feeling small and afraid, he remembered the morning after. How Loki had begged him for an apology and had not received one. How Thor had stood on the other side, unable to be anything but callous and cold. Their positions were reversed now. Thor prayed his brother would be more kind.

Trembling, he knocked.

Loki answered the door, not a minute later, robed in black and green, hair curly and disheveled. “Yes?” he said as he rubbed his eyes—and then, before Thor could answer, his face smoothed and his eyebrows furrowed low and angry on his face. “Did she try something again?”

“No,” Thor rushed to say, but Loki’s expression didn’t soften. Cheeks aflame, Thor fixed his gaze on the golden stone archway of the door and studied its numerous ridges and cracks. “I can’t—sleep,” he managed. “That—bed—” His throat felt hoarse. He returned his gaze to his brother and tried not to let the desperation seep into his voice. “I’m afraid to sleep alone.”

6. (IW AU thor whump) [tw violence]

“Let me make this clear,” Thor said. He ripped a strip of cloth free from his cape and toyed with it between his hands. “I follow the doctrine of my master because it’s what I believe. But even if I didn’t? Even if you somehow managed to convince me otherwise?” Thor lifted the red cloth and pressed it between the bones of her jaw. “I would follow him anyway. There is not one single thing you could say to dissuade me from his offer, universe be damned.” He tied the cloth in a knot on the back of her head. “Do you understand?”

Eyes blazing, Gamora kneed him in the thigh.

Thor stumbled. His heart sped, as he realized she’d been aiming for his crotch, and in a burst of rage, his hand clenched into a fist and raised in the air—trembling and white-knuckled and desperate to hit her back. 

He didn’t do it.

There was something in her face that sparked a memory in him—one of Loki, handcuffed and bright-eyed and braced for a blow on the Asgardian skiff. The time they’d gone to avenge a mother who had left them alone too soon. The time Loki (seemed to have) died. For a shocking moment, the woman in front of Thor looked just like his brother. From the the tension in her shoulders, to the set in her lips, and to the glassiness of her wide eyes.

He lowered his fist. Grief cascaded over him, and it weighed like bricks on his chest and needles in his heart. In a count to ten, Thor reminded himself of the doctrine and of Thanos’s offer—the gauntlet, with all five Infinity Stones, would resurrect his brother. This woman—this traitor—couldn’t. The choice was easy.

 “Get some rest,” he said, numb and cold. “Xandar is several hours away.”

7. (Zombie Post Apoc Novel) [tw grosss vagina shit, implied noncon]

At night, Helen catches her in the bathroom. The door is cracked open, and Cassandra is standing, one foot planted on the tub’s ledge and the other foot on the floor. Her hand is between her thighs and she’s holding the lighter under her clit, until the air sizzles with the smell of burnt flesh. She comes like that. Helen knows because tears leak from Cassandra’s face whenever her orgasm is real.

“I’m sorry,” Cassandra whispers when she notices Helen watching. “I have to.”

And Helen doesn’t bother arguing. Larry may dead, but there are countless Larry’s, and even if there aren’t, Andrew hovers in their room sleeping on their bed. Something has to burn. So Helen just closes the door behind her, turns on the vent to clear the smell, and grabs Neosporin from a drawer under the sink.

Cassandra sits on the bathtub ledge. “Maybe we should stay,” she whispers. “Maybe it really is better here.”

Helen kneels on the bathroom tile. “You’re gonna kill yourself if we stay here, babe.” Then she rubs the Neosporin over the folds of her sister’s vagina, and when the burns are good and treated, tears of ecstasy leak down Cassandra’s face.

In the silence that follows, Cassandra bites her lip. “If it comes to it… I don’t know that I could pull the trigger.”

“You can,” Helen says. “Just pretend you’re holding a lighter.”

8. (Moment of Peace)

[imaginaryfriendcomic]

a long, meta PSA

Hello, my good readers! Firstly, I’m very glad to see we’re almost reaching 1k followers, and I’m still very determined to finish the next page - I’m nearly done with the whole layout!

Though what I want to talk about today is something I’ve been thinking for a while. As many of you may know, Imaginary Friend was technically going to be a comic adaptation of the original fanfiction I posted a long time ago. Now, I’m not saying I’m going to change the entire plot, yet there’s something in there that’s actually been bothering me, now that I think of it: and that’s about Gaster being a dad before the Void. Please read the whole post before commenting or sending asks!

*SPOILERS FOR THE ORIGINAL STORY

TRIGGER WARNINGS - MENTIONS OF ABUSE AND NEGLECT

Even from the first 23 pages, you know that Gaster is drowning in his sorrows and regrets. He keeps saying how he failed at being the Royal Scientist, for not being able to free everyone, and at being a father to Sans and Papyrus. If anyone has gotten to the fanfiction already, it’s claimed that Gaster used to overwork himself and did not spend a lot of time with his sons, and that “he pushed them away.” I’ll be including some chapter pieces here to prove my points:

LIKE I SAID, I WAS THE ROYAL SCIENTIST. I MARRIED A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN AND HAD TWO CHILDREN. MY WIFE, UNFORTUNATELY, PASSED AWAY... THE ONLY GOOD THINGS I HAD IN MY LIFE THEN WERE SANS AND PAPYRUS. I HAVE DONE EVERYTHING TO GIVE THEM A GOOD LIFE, WHICH MADE ME WORK EVEN HARDER AFTER MY WIFE WAS GONE. BUT THEN  I STARTED BEING SO FOCUSED ON WORK THAT I DIDN'T REALLY GIVE THEM MUCH ATTENTION. I BARELY SPENT TIME WITH THEM. WHEN I WAS IN A BAD MOOD, I USUALLY TOLD THEM TO LEAVE ME ALONE... I WASN'T A GOOD FATHER.

(chapter 2)

He let his wife die; nothing he had done to cure her from her disease worked. He neglected Sans and Papyrus, barely spent time with them and... treated them like they were just a burden in his life, when they really weren't. He had failed at freeing monsters, he had broken everyone's trust. He had disappointed everyone. He had had one job, and he failed.

(chapter 7)

It’s even implied that Sans looked after Papyrus on his own, too, which is further confirmed in the sequel I made, You’re Home Now (which contains Grillby x Gaster, just warning you guys).

He was very proud of them, despite Sans being lazy... His elder child did a great job taking care of Papyrus when he was younger (...).

(chapter 1)

The little Sans was home (in their very, very old house, the one located in New Home), watching television with young Papyrus. It was already late, the babysitter hadn't been able to come over, leaving Sans the responsibility of taking care of himself and his little brother, which wasn't that bad. Despite being a kid, Sans was actually responsible enough for his father to trust him at this task, though Papyrus could give some hard work sometimes.

(You’re Home Now, chapter 2)

Maybe this hasn’t crossed in anyone’s minds - if they’ve already read the fic - and well, I’m unsure if I’m overthinking this since I didn’t get that much depth to the original story, but this is my work, after all. I wrote this more than 3 years ago, so I’m looking back at it with a more critical perspective. Thus, this aspect about Gaster’s parenting has been bothering me recently.

I’m aware that many children have gone through this; being forced to look after themselves, their siblings or even their own parents (the latter isn’t quite the case here but anyway), as the adults fail to do what they’re supposed to - of taking care of their family and providing them love, attention and everything else. The lack of any of these things has been normalized in many households, and most of the time kids don’t realize how harmful it might be to them, because their own feelings aren’t validated. Since they’re forced to take in the role of the responsible parent, the adult, they excuse and justify their parents’ misdeeds.

Surely, in the original Imaginary Friend, Gaster acknowledges he wasn’t the best dad, yet now that I come to read it again, it never feels like he’s truly called out for that. Alright, he’s already being punished by the loneliness and helplessness for decades inside the Void, and he does show genuine remorse for his actions. Regardless, I feel like I’ve made excuses for his failures at being a parent. I feel like I used the “but he didn’t mean to!” excuse that so many people adopt when we’re talking about abusive and neglectful parents. I used Frisk, a character who I headcanon to have been abused by their biological parents, to justify that Gaster wasn’t all that bad:

"Don't say that! I think they would be glad to see you again." Frisk assured him. "I mean, you deeply cared about them and did everything to offer them proper conditions and-"

YES, BUT... I HAVE NOT GIVEN THEM ENOUGH LOVE AND AFFECTION. He sighed sadly.

Frisk sighed too. They had a feeling that Sans and Papyrus didn't hate him. They just knew it, but Gaster didn't believe.

"But... they never gave up on you, right?" They asked.

(...)

"I would've really liked to have a father who would do everything to give me a good life."

Gaster, curious, looked at the child. WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

"Toriel is my mom now, and she's the best, but... I've never had a father that cared about me." Frisk admitted. "You know... before I fell into the Underground. My real parents weren't... great. They were very mean to me, specially my father."

(...)

I AM SORRY ABOUT YOUR PARENTS.

"It's okay. At least I found great friends and a fantastic mom." Frisk said, smiling, despite remembering their mean parents. "You are a way better father than my real one. You shouldn't say you're the worst."

Gaster didn't answer.

"You may have not spent much time with them, but I don't think Sans and Papyrus wouldn't be happy to see you." Frisk said.

BUT I MADE THEM FEEL LIKE THEY WERE ANNOYING ME... I SHOULD HAVE NEVER DONE THAT.

"I understand, but, just so you know... I think you already made it clear to them that you cared about them, which is why they were always there for you even if you distanced yourself."

(chapter 2)

Sans and Papyrus don’t hold grudges against their father, either, and yet, now that I realize it, the former presents the same “pushing away” behavior Gaster presumably adopted. In the very least, Sans is called out for it, but I never explicitly connected that to how his father treated them:

"SANS, DID YOU SLEEP WELL?" Papyrus asked.

"i'm okay, pap."

"BUT YOU LOOK AWFUL-"

"papyrus, i'm okay!" Sans interrupted, sounding annoyed.

Papyrus shrunk out of fear. He had never seen Sans in that state before. He knew something was up with him, but for some reason, he was afraid of asking Sans what was wrong. His brother sounded so grumpy, he felt like he would piss him off if he asked that at the time.

(chapter 6)

"DON'T YOU JUST LEAVE THE HOUSE LIKE THAT!" Papyrus said, somehow pissed, but concerned at the same time.

"l-leave me alone." Sans managed to escape, but Papyrus wouldn't let him go.

"I JUST WANT TO TALK TO YOU! PLEASE-"

Sans teleported himself, escaping Papyrus's grip. He groaned loudly.

"SANS, OH MY GOD! STOP RUNNING AWAY FROM ME!" Papyrus yelled.

Turned out that Sans didn't teleport far away. He arrived in the same street, a few meters ahead.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!" Papyrus yelled.

"i don't want to talk, papyrus."

"BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN JUST... TREAT ME LIKE GARBAGE!"

(chapter 9)

That’s NOT to say Gaster is evil. You could say that Gaster believes he was terrible because of his trauma from the Void. The dark dimension causes him to hallucinate things, alter his physical form and twist reality, and so that may be why Sans and Papyrus don’t hold anything against him. But the point is, I don’t feel like I’ve made that clear. And with Sans technically mirroring his past role model, I feel like the narrative swept Gaster’s bad parenting under the carpet.

This topic is very difficult to discuss, I’m very aware of that. I get that some abusers can make it different, they can change. However, that’s not what usually happens. What does happen is society underestimating and devaluating the effects of abuse on people, especially children and teenagers. Nobody tends to focus on the victims, and thus finds ways to justify the abuse. Like that, I feel like I contributed to that, too. That’s why I’m writing this post.

PLEASE NOTE: I’m very proud of having written Imaginary Friend, and I want to continue with the comic. However, I want to truly emphasize that there will be changes in the comic adaptation, and with this theme in mind, I’ll make sure I don’t unintentionally excuse bad parenting again. At the time I wrote the fic, I had no idea it might come off that way (which doesn’t mean I’m condemning myself for not noticing). I think a lot of other people haven’t had the same impression, either; yet now that I do, I want to change what this fic might have defended.

I’m very sorry for everyone who went through this situation in their childhoods, or might still be. It’s not your fault. Your parent(s)/guardian(s) should have been better, and that’ll never be on you. Maybe they “didn’t mean to”, but that doesn’t mean it’s not harmful. I wish you all the happiness and safety in the world. <3

Stay determined!

[jewishvitya]

It's been so long and at this point I'm not sure I'll draw this, but there was a Natsume Yuujinchou week and I wanted to make this story in comics or fic. Each title is the prompt for the day, and they combine into a full story. I’m posting my notes as they are:

1: Natsume's birthday

Touko tells Natsume happy birthday as soon as he comes down the stairs. She has a sweet smile, and he returns one too. Nyanko sniffs at the bento with interest, ignoring Natsume. Shigeru tells Natsume "happy birthday" too. In school Taki notices the special bento and Nyanko tells her it's Natsume's birthday. Natsume says it's nothing special and Taki still says something about a present. Natsume replies he doesn't normally celebrate anyway. Tiny yokai heard the whole thing. On the way home he gets a bowl from the tiny yokai "as a gift to honor your birthday." Nishimura and Kitamoto ask him what it is, and he says it's a birthday gift. They both go "It's your birthday!? Why didn't you say so!?" and walk him home singing birthday songs ridiculously loud. At home, he wants to go up to his room and look at the bowl, but the doorbell rings. Touko seems happy about it and tells him to open the door. He sighs and puts the bowl in his little bag. Taki and Tanuma are at the door, holding cake. Apparently Taki asked the Fujiwaras about a small birthday celebration after school, and invited Tanuma. At night he's tired but his yokai friends appear and demand a celebration for his birthday. He says he's tired and he celebrated already, but they act like they can't hear him. He smiles, a bit resigned.

2: Found family

Spending some time with the Fujiwaras and his friends, something is weird that he doesn't feel yet but somehow they notice. His presence feels less solid. They might touch him to feel more clearly that he's there, not knowing that that's what they're doing. And he might feel awkward about it. Touko straightening his shirt. Shigeru with a hand on his head. Nishimura and Kitamoto shove him or tap him on the back way more than they normally would and he doesn’t understand why everyone is so tactile. It doesn't suit them all and Natsume is confused. Other than that - lots of good experiences. [Maybe stick my OT3 scene here? Have them reading and talking in his room, sort of cuddly because Tanuma and Taki feel like they need something tangible? Natsume finds it odd too but he doesn't mind as much?]

3: Memories/Dreams

Natsume has weird dreams. Dreams of his own memories, but another person in his place. He wakes up and thinks about his own memories that he just relived. Some hurt. Some don't. The feeling of being replaced was strange. Nyanko makes a mock-flippant comment because he's Nyanko and he can't show he actually cares. Natsume brushes it off.

4: Rain/sunshine

Natsume is out with his weird gift, to show it to Natori. Natori isn't there. Surprised by the rain, Natsume tries to go home. He's calling out to his friends who pass by, but they don't notice him. He runs home to get out of the rain. The gift is in the rain with him, getting wet, but in a really strange way. Maybe it's a bowl that never gets filled with water. When the rain stops or when he gets out of the rain, the object is dry instantly. Natsume sees his friends again later, and he talks to them. "What were you concentrating on then?" "Hmm? Nothing. Were you really there? I couldn't see you." Nyanko looks at him oddly.

5: Yokai/humans species swap

There was a yokai tied to the gift Natsume received and they wanted freedom. That meant they had to swap with someone, and Nyanko would have felt it too early so they resigned themselves to being human but free. That means Natsume is now sort of stuck. Invisible to nearly everyone. Nyanko takes the object - that Natsume is now bound to - to Tanuma, and goes to look for the newly human creature. Some angst about the inability to communicate and "Am I always going to be like this?" Natsume can touch and affect objects enough to write notes. Tanuma reads Natsume's notes and jokes about how he can hear it in his mind as if it's said in Natsume's voice and he’s not used to this because they don’t text a lot or anything like that. Natsume is sad. He wonders how long it will take until Tanuma and the rest will forget his voice if he stays like this.

6: Bonus: exorcists

Tanuma is getting Natori involved after Natsume mentions him, just in case Nyanko can’t get the yokai back. Natori says there should be a way to release him, but he’s not sure how. Nyanko gets the swapped yokai. The yokai was struggling in human society. Not understanding other humans, not knowing how to read, having no one in a world they don't know. They feel fragile, vulnerable, and the human world scares them, but they don't want to be bound again and they don’t know anyone who both has the power and would want to release them. Natsume manages to convince Natori to promise to release them rather than exorcise them if they swap back, so they swap back after they teach Natsume and Natori how to release them. Natori keeps his promise. Everyone is safe and happy.

[chenziee]

Black and Ocean Blue

A super late re-entry for @ererievents Ereri fluff weekend 2018. Day 1: Playful. Also kind of fits with @ereri-writing-prompts prompt 6: Incalescent, so I'm going with that, too.

A huge shout out to @datwriterwannabe for being an amazing beta and for dealing with all my shit. I seriously don't deserve you <3 <3

And another huge, huge shout out to @sulkingmoon for making this incredibly sweet and absolutely perfect art to go with this fic!

Love you both, I'm stll crying over all you two did for me ;_; <3 <3

Rating: Teen and Up Pairing: Levi/Eren Additional tags: Fluff, Beach fic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ereri fluff weekend 2018, Ereri Writing Prompt 6, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, pastel metalhead eren, though that's not really important, Summer, Beach Trip, Set in Europe, by the Mediterranean sea, because that's the only sea i know Words: 2602

[read on AO3 // on ff.net]

or below

It’s been five years since he first met Eren and Levi still couldn’t quite believe how lucky he was to be standing next to him on a beach half-way across Europe, just the two of them and no one else. There was no Armin to ask awkward questions that left both of them flustered, and no Erwin to make subtle jabs at Levi’s hopeless crush. No Mikasa o glare daggers at Levi and no Hanji to talk both their ears off, unintentionally covering up for Levi’s fumbling,. Back then, Levi would never have imagined himself not fumbling around Eren. When they first met all those years ago, the boy seemed unreachable; a pretty face, cute laugh, determination and self confidence making his eyes shine. Flower crowns ever present, clad in pastel head to toe, and with heavy metal blasting through his earphones. He was an enigma back then; mysterious and captivating and so out of Levi’s league.

Looking at him now, Levi thought he still was kind of an enigma; a walking contradiction, drawing attention and disbelieving looks everywhere he went. He didn’t even have to wear one of those fancy flower crowns he loved so much to turn heads – it was enough only standing there in his black, metal band shirt and mint green swim trunks with nail polish to match. His long hair, save for a few strands that were left framing his face, was pulled into a messy bun which was held together by a giant, frilly hair tie the same shade of green as his trunks and nails. Levi wondered if the choice of colour was deliberate, as he often told Eren green suited him. It brought out his eyes beautifully and Levi could never get enough of it.

Speaking of Eren’s eyes, Levi studied Eren’s expression for a moment and the wide grin he saw on his face as he stared out at the wide expanse of the ocean – or well, sea, technically – for the first time, his eyes sparkling with wonder and amazement, and Levi... Levi couldn’t say he regretted the unholy amounts of money he was spending on this trip. It was obvious how much Eren longed for this, longed to finally see the never ending body of salt water and a warm, happy feeling settled in the deepest parts of Levi’s chest at the sight of him. He was the one who made that look on his face possible after all, and that alone made him feel so damn lucky.

Levi had known since before he even started dating Eren how badly the boy wanted to make a trip like this. The young man had never gotten to see the ocean before, not even when he was a kid plastering cheesy, obviously photoshopped pictures of it all over the walls of his room. No matter how much they wished they could, it was just not possible for his parents to take him. It was not for a lack of funds, the Jaeger family was more than well off, however, his father, being one of the best surgeons in Germany, had always been far too busy and tired to go on a vacation as far as the Mediterranean. And so, all the Jaeger family vacations were spent at their vacation house by a lake not far from their city, but still far enough for them to be cut off from society and reach of telecommunications.

Despite everything, Eren did love it there. He did love spending time with his whole family – even though his half-brother pissed him off beyond belief sometimes – and he was always happy to go back there. But it still wasn’t enough for him. Every year, Eren complained how the lake wasn’t big enough, how it was surrounded by stones and conifers instead of sand and palm trees.

And that was why Levi was more than happy to pay for this trip, a dream vacation to celebrate their third anniversary together since he was finally being able to afford it. He had graduated successfully a year ago – thank fuck – and managed to find a decent paying work soon after. He had been saving up ever since and Levi could say it was definitely worth it just to see Eren’s reaction when he presented him with the plane tickets.

Returning back to the present, Levi smirked slightly, shoving Eren gently away and towards the water. “Go on, stop eyeing it like that. It’s not going to evaporate as soon as you fucking touch it.”

Eren yelped slightly at Levi’s not-so-gentle urging, blinking over his shoulder at his boyfriend in confusion, a cute pout forming on his lips. “You’re not coming?”

“In a bit,” Levi said, gesturing behind them, at the still-vacant spot on the beach they had managed to snag for themselves, to show he was going to set up their little camp first. “I’ll try to make sure the sand doesn’t get everywhere first,” he added with a slightly disgusted frown. Levi hated sand, the shitty thing had the uncanny ability to get exactly where you didn’t want it to get and the zip-lock bags Levi insisted on using for their things for this very reason weren’t nearly enough of a reassurance. Just the idea of having to shake sand out of his book annoyed him. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if it got into his clothes.

Eren nodded in understanding then, before he quickly pulled of his shirt and threw it carelessly aside, leaning in to give Levi a small kiss. Then he was gone, off towards the water, and Levi could only watch as he jumped in, laughing at the way the waves splashed and sprayed him. He looked so damn happy and a sort of calm and content feeling settled in Levi’s stomach, warming him from the inside. Eren’s joy was so pure, so innocent, so contagious that Levi couldn’t help but feel giddy as well.

He could only shake his head with amusement when Eren took a sip of the water, only to spit it back out a split second later with the most disgusted expression that he was probably capable of. Then Levi turned away from the sight of his boyfriend playing like a kid so he could finally focus on his task of arranging their little spot. It took him a few minutes, the sand working hard against his need to have the towels perfectly aligned. Satisfied at last, Levi took a step back, causing the sand – and the towels right along with it – to move again, making him give up with a frustrated sigh. Shooting one last glare at their towels, he reminded himself that Eren was going to just flop on his towel and mess up all his efforts anyway, before he threw the rest of their things on top of his own towel without any more fucks to give.

With finality, he turned back around to face the water and join Eren, who was apparently having the time of his life in the water. He wasn’t even swimming, just jumping around with the waves, giggling like a little kid when the salt water splashed his face. It was obvious to anyone who saw him how delighted he was. How much joy he found in letting the water wash over him and ruin his hair style, as sloppy as his bun may have been to begin with.

Levi was immensely glad in that moment that he had succeeded in talking Eren out of keeping his beloved flower crown on before going to the beach. Even if he had somehow managed to have it stay on his head, there was no way it would survive this abuse.

Speaking of which, Levi kind of doubted even his ridiculous hair tie would survive.

A fond chuckle escaped Levi as he walked across the sand, navigating between the many towels spread out everywhere. He had to admit he hated it; hated the amount of people vacationing out there, hated the sand, and he was pretty sure he would hate the sea as well once he was actually touching it. But looking at Eren, seeing how delighted he was... he didn’t even care how the sand would get inside his swim trunks or how many people there were, watching them, or how dirty the water was. Eren was happy, beyond happy, and that was all that that really mattered to him in the end.

Or that was what Levi thought at least, until his feet came into contact with the water. It was cold as shit and Levi cursed Eren’s naturally high body temperature for not caring and giving him a warning. Watching the brat, it was as if the water was a comfortable, almost-boiling temperature, which was just how Levi liked it. It definitely didn’t seem like it was in fact fucking freezing. Levi shuddered and retreated, opting to stay on the hot sand, under the scorching heat of the sun.

“Are you planning on just standing there?” came a familiar voice a second later, Levi’s sudden backtracking probably catching Eren’s eyes.

Looking at Eren paddling in the water a little bit away and staring at him with the biggest puppy eyes, Levi couldn’t help but sigh. “Give me a moment, I’m coming.”

Levi snickered to himself at the pout Eren gave him, obviously dissatisfied with Levi’s slowness at adjusting to the water temperature. But then he took a step closer, letting the incoming waves wash over his feet, and an involuntarily shudder ran up his spine.

Now it was Eren’s turn to snicker and Levi tried to shoot his boyfriend a glare, only to see he was now way closer than he was a moment ago. The brat was kneeling in the shallows now, probably to get a better view of the show that was Levi’s progress – or lack there off. Levi wanted to tell him to go eat shit but even he knew he was being ridiculous, the water wasn’t that cold by normal standards, however, it was not like he could help it. Unless you were able to cook an egg in it, it just wasn’t warm enough for Levi. Eying the water that now reached as high as his knees, and that was sending shivers all the way through his body, he wished he could just jump in like Eren did. But the water was just so cold-

A shout escaped Levi’s lips, shock overcoming him as something cold and wet covered him from the waist down.

At the same moment, Eren burst into laughter and Levi could do nothing but glare down at his so-called boyfriend, who obviously thought it was a brilliant idea to splash Levi while he was struggling to even make a single step forward. “What the actual fuck, Eren,” Levi growled lowly but Eren only continued to chortle. Seriously, Eren could be so ridiculous sometimes and despite his better judgement, Levi had to fight down his own laughter to keep up his appearances.

“You need to simply jump in, it’s easier if you don’t stop to think about it,” Eren managed to get out in between gasps for air. “So I thought I’d help you with that.” He blinked up at Levi prettily from his still kneeling position as he offered him a brilliant smile, one that he knew would always make Levi feel weak. Only he was completely ruining it with the bursts of laughter he couldn’t contain. Not to mention Eren’s messy bun was completely falling apart by that point, a few strands falling out of it here and there, and his frilly hair tie barely holding on. It was still stuck in his hair for the time being, but to Levi it seemed it’s only purpose now was to make Eren’s long hair stick out every which way, creating an absolutely ridiculous halo around his head.

With the effect of his smile completely ruined, Levi narrowed his eyes dangerously at Eren’s continued giggling. Taking advantage of him not paying attention, Levi leaned down to scoop up a handful of water in retaliation.

Eren shrieked loudly, jumping up and away from the water Levi threw at his face. However, kneeling in the sand as he was until then, he easily lost balance and fell backwards, promptly submerging into the sea, hands flailing around in a fruitless search of something to hold onto, but merely smacking at the waves with loud splashing. Levi didn’t have it in him to feel sorry for his actions. Not when Eren emerged back up a few seconds later, standing up fully just a bit away from Levi, spitting water and rubbing at his face to get the water out of his eyes without much result, a disgruntled, twisted expression adorning his face. And not even when a wave larger than the ones before came just as Eren was getting his bearings back, throwing him off balance again, and nearly sending him back underwater, face first this time.

Obviously, Eren didn’t appreciate Levi’s amusement. He lunged forward to grab his hand, successfully taking Levi off guard and pulling him towards himself. Before Levi could brace himself, he was falling into the water right next to the vindictive brat. At that point, the only thing he could do was to tightly close his eyes and mouth, holding his breath and await his untimely death in the cold, unforgiving arms of the Mediterranean sea.

Above the water, his view obscured by the foam created by Levi’s fall and sand that rose up after, Eren frowned when Levi still didn’t come up moments later, the brunet getting slightly worried. But then another shriek escaped him as something latched onto his middle, forcing him to fall backwards once more. In his surprise, he expected to gulp down some of the disgustingly salty water, but before that could happen, something else firmly pressed down on his mouth. Smiling wide into the kiss, his arms automatically going around Levi’s neck, pulling him closer.

The two of them emerged gasping for breath only seconds later, Eren’s hands clutching at Levi’s shoulders while Levi’s were wrapped tightly around Eren’s waist.

As soon as they were breathing normally again, they both burst out laughing. It was ridiculous. They were ridiculous and Levi loved every second of it. At some point, Eren slowly moved closer, resting his forehead against Levi’s gently, the two of them staring into each other’s eyes intently and both smiling like the love-sick idiots they were.

“Thank you,” Eren mumbled after a while, his voice barely audible against the sounds of the sea and the other people talking and laughing all around them. He didn’t have to say anything more, didn’t have to explain for Levi to understand.

The other man only huffed out a small chuckle, smiling softly up at his lover. “You’re welcome, brat.”

Eren smiled back at the pet name, his expression melting into something so grateful, so loving, and Levi couldn’t resist any longer. He leaned in, making their lips connect once again just as the next wave crashed over them. Not that either of them noticed, sharing a kiss that was chaste and slow, and yet somehow so much more meaningful than the most passionate ones they have shared.

At that moment, as they both shivered from being drenched in cold, salty water, Eren’s hair sticking to both their faces and as his frilly, pastel green hair tie was already irrevocably lost, somewhere on it’s way to become one with the sea garbage... neither of them could be happier.

[margridarnauds]

i know you reblogged the Thing a while ago but aaaa i really love reading your answers so - 002 for lazare, if you wanna?

Thanks! (And seriously, if I’d reblogged it a month ago, I would still be down for answering it; I love talking 1789, especially if it involves my boy.) I feel like I did this some time ago, but also I’ve never stopped screaming about Lazare and I’m not going to stop now. 

Be warned: The following is based off of various and assorted headcanons and theories, ergo the canon compliance is, as always, questionable. Since it isn’t like Lazare gets all that much in canon, bless his heart. 

How I feel about this character: My baby. My son. My murderous son. It’s funny because, when I first watched 1789, it must have been about 3-4 years ago, because I somehow managed to fall into the fandom just before the Takarazuka version dropped (I seem to recall some of the initial questioning over how Marie Antoinette’s role would be dealt with and expanded), I REALLY didn’t like Lazare. I remember seeing all the fanfic on him (in French, which I read via Google Translate on my college’s computer while I was taking a creative writing class over the summer) and being like “This guy? WHY? HE KILLS PEOPLE.” Ah yes. My 17 year old self was so painfully naive. On so many points. Then, about a year and a half ago, I fell back into Hell after a stream of the Takarazuka version and managed to latch onto him. I really resisted for the longest time, but after about a month, I ended up bonding with him, and the rest is history. 

I think that, of all the cast, he has some of the greatest potential, and I really think that Matthieu Carnot in particular did a great job with giving us a variety of interpretations on him. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character: For the most part, I’m pretty monogamous to Peyronan. I do ship Artois/Lazare as a purely one-sided thing, purely so that Artois can do a flip when he finds out about Ronan. Olympe/Lazare and Olympe/Lazare/Ronan is right there; it’s pretty much the only way I can actually stomach Ronan/Olympe as a ship, and at one point I had. Words. Written out on that one, though who knows if I’ll ever complete those Words. I’ve also batted around Louis XVI/Lazare as an alternative to Artois.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I STRONGLY Brotp Solène/Lazare and Olympe/Lazare, as well as Lt. du Puget/Lazare (with du Puget filling in as the father that Lazare SHOULD have had, had things gone better) and Ramard/Lazare. (Toho/Takarazuka Ramard, with the two of them both having to deal with Artois and Ramard still being new enough to the job that he’s not been totally corrupted yet.) 

Olympe and Lazare, in my own headcanon, parallel each other well, with Lazare’s longstanding crush on Artois and Olympe’s on Antoinette. Both of them are fiercely loyal to their respective members of the royal family, both of them distrust the mob and what it’s capable of, but while Artois exploits Lazare for his own benefit, making him into his personal attack dog (you know, In the one scene they have together in canon), Antoinette...doesn’t MEAN to with Olympe, she doesn’t even know that she HAS a crush on her. Antoinette is pretty oblivious to the world around her, bless her heart, but she means well. But still, we see in canon that Olympe sticks her neck out on the line time after time for her sake, before MA FINALLY lets her go. And even then, I go back and forth as to whether she realizes Olympe has a crush on her (and is trying to spare her the pain + the damage to her reputation) or whether she genuinely believes that Olympe has a lover (and genuinely thinks she’s helping Olympe by letting her be with someone she loves, not realizing that the person she loves is...), given that both are pretty devastating in their own ways. Artois, though, would never let Lazare go. Even if he doesn’t personally have any LIKING for Lazare, he’s not going to let him leave him, because he wants that control and his pride can’t stand the thought that Lazare could (1) Move on from HIM and (2) Move on from him WITH A PEASANT. Like, Ronan’s existence is basically the single biggest middle finger that Lazare could deliver to Artois. 

Solène and Lazare also have a hell of a lot in common, aside from just...the shit-talking Ronan opportunities. Both of them are the more pragmatic, cynical partner in their respective pairings, both of them pretend to feel a lot less than they actually do, and both of them have reputations of being People You Do Not Fuck With but also MELT for their respective love interests. 

My unpopular opinion about this character: This is something I’ve noticed primarily from the French and Russian fandoms (with a LITTLE bit in the Chinese, though I’ve also read fluff in Chinese), but Creepy Crawly Lazare. No. Absolutely no. I once literally started an Angsty Childhood Friends AU fic out of sheer SPITE over Creepy Crawly Lazare. (Not Le Cri, another one that I will unleash when the time is right.) I understand it with the Japanese productions a little bit more, because they tend to deal with a much darker look at him than the French, but I still don’t see Laz...like that. And, for the most part, I tend to favor the interpretations of Laz where he genuinely BELIEVES in the Ancien Régime and has managed to convince himself that he’s doing the right thing. I love the Takarazuka Laz; I love the Toho Laz (I’ve FINALLY warmed up to him. I mean, he replied to my mom on Instagram. How can you not like him if he replies to your mom on Instagram?), but they’re...not MY take on Lazare. I tend to see him as borderline asexual/demisexual as it is.  

Relating to that, any interpretation of Laz where he’s a smooth talker. My boy can play the political game as needed, primarily by keeping his mouth shut, but casually giving out pick up lines...no. The only way I could accept this is if he ran to Ramard for help, desperate, and he jotted down all of his favorite pick-up lines (hint: They’re all awful), only for Lazare to blank the second he saw Ronan. I genuinely have a hard time believing he’s had any kind of relationship pre-canon. Like, RONAN’S probably had more experience kissing than he has, and we’ve all seen how Ronan kisses. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Obviously, I would love canon, mutually consensual Peyronan. I think that all three productions have hinted at it; I don’t think ANY of the Lazares have really played him as Straight™, especially when it comes to Ronan (THE HUG IN THE FRENCH PRODUCTION), but I would actually like to see it 100% canon. Not that that would EVER happen in a mainstream musical, especially in the Japanese productions (not saying there’s NO progress there, because there have been some stupendously gay things I’ve seen via Zuka and Toho, but most of the time it’s either [1] villains, [2] comic relief, or [3] queerbait, with the lead still ending up with the lead female character) but a girl can dream. 

Shipping aside, I would genuinely love to see Lazare and Ronan develop side by side as an antagonist/hero pairing. I would love to see Lazare grow increasingly desperate and brutal as the musical goes on (IF and only IF we’re going to have him as the villain and not the antagonist), just as Ronan slides deeper and deeper into the Revolution. I would love to see them parallel each other in various and assorted ways, not the least in their devotion to their respective sides, as both of them suffer from the society they were born in, just in differing ways and extents. On one hand, Lazare never starved like Ronan did, but on the other...he was made into a machine for the sake of preserving the Ancien Régime (and...it does seem like there’s a small amount of canon backing to that one, given some of his lines in Nous ne Sommes.) If you’re going to kick off the musical with the Lazare/Ronan rivalry and Ronan swearing vengeance, then you’ve got to make SURE you carry that one through to the end, even if it’s Ronan ultimately realizing that he doesn’t WANT Lazare dead. I just...need that development between the two of them, since it’s such a missed opportunity in the original. I do give Toho some props for showing SOME of that, as far as explaining why Lazare wants Necker out of a job + having Ronan there during Nous ne Sommes, but still...I need more Lazare development, dammit. 

my OTP: Lazare/Ronan. Was there any doubt? 

my cross over ship: Lazare/Chauvelin from The Scarlet Pimpernel is, like...my trash crossover ship. Not the least because Ryuu Masaki played both Ronan and Chauvelin in the Zuka productions. So it’s not TECHNICALLY cheating on Peyronan. 

Also, guilty pleasure ship I’ve been tossing around: Der Tod from Elisabeth/Lazare. I mean, given how often Lazare’s around dead people, I think it could go swimmingly. 

@janetcarter and I also have a longstanding 1789/Terra Nova crossover where the 1789 crew ends up in the colony of Terra Nova and meet some dinosaurs, and in that one Lieutenant Washington and Lazare are a big BROTP, given that they are both staunchly loyal soldiers with ponytails who fall in love with someone on the other side of the conflict and who were massively underwritten in canon. 

a headcanon fact: 99% of what I do with him is extensive headcanoning anyway and there are times I almost feel like I run out of headcanons, but Lazare wasn’t given an extensive education, ESPECIALLY not by aristocratic standards. Robespierre, Desmoulins, and Danton all outpace him there. He never learned Latin or Greek, his only two languages are German and French, because his grandfather went for the Prussian influence with him and he thought that Latin was unnecessary and would lead him to libertinage. His education was strictly kept to what would be immediately useful for his military career. When Lazare is talking about the “high class education” of the revolutionaries in the Takarazuka + Toho versions, he’s not just trying to convince Ronan to join him, he’s also projecting his own deeply buried, unacknowledged envy towards them. It also means that he often finds himself uncomfortable in the intellectually driven salons and court discussions, and his lack of formal court training puts him at a disadvantage, especially since the Comte d’Artois (who isn’t one to TALK there, historically), regularly uses him as the target for his mockery. A solid background at court was necessary to be a good officer and advance, connections were EVERYTHING, and a socially stunted officer was never going to make it as far as someone like, say, Fersen, who could navigate the best of both worlds. 

Also Autistic Lazare is very, very important to me as a concept. Whenever I write him, it’s with the idea that he falls somewhere on the spectrum.

Also, bluntly speaking, I have my. Ideas. For what happens to Lazare post-canon, and most of them don’t end well for him, though I truly don’t believe he makes it to the guillotine. I think Toho!Lazare in particular sings his lines in Pour la Peine with a certain resignation. 

In a happier timeline, as Lazare gets older, he needs reading glasses and grays quicker than Ronan. Ronan relentlessly teases him about being an old man; Lazare retorts that the reason he has so many gray hairs is because of Ronan.