#but I still love this snippet on its own it should get its proper tag

[regallibellbright]

WIP Sunday! In the hopes that posting something about it forces me to get back to this one sooner rather than later.

—

“I suppose not,” Joshua says, back to his normal smirk. “And if I said ‘oh, that’s the only reason’ and left, what would you do then? You already knew about my ‘evil plan’ when you called me here.”

“I wanted to know what you wanted,” Shiki says. “That doesn’t mean I’d take any offer you made. Some things aren’t worth selling your soul for.”

“But apparently, some might be?” Joshua fiddles with his hair again. “We don’t actually do that, you know. It’d be a waste of a perfectly good soul.” Like Shiki cares? But Joshua just laughs and continues. “I admit, you have me curious. What kind of deal would you sell your soul for?”

She should tell him to knock it off. She should run. She should forget this whole stupid plan and tell Rhyme she was dumb for even considering it. (But Yamasaki’s Partner thought he should put the jacket back on. But even if it was cheating, it might be worth it, for Neku. But a favor for the evil plan just doesn’t feel right, after this many months.)

[redroomroaving]

Writer Interview Tag

Ok, it took me 8 days to get here, but I’m finally responding to this lovely tag from @lemonsrosesandlavender I adored reading yours, it was so interesting!

I've tagged a few people in this post later on and would love any of them to join in and have a go at this if they'd like to share their own answers :).

Answers under the cut, because this got long - I touch on some personal stuff a bit here, so CW for chronic pain discussion.

When did you start writing?

I’ve been writing nonsense since I was a kid, largely - I have old notebooks from when I was very young I still keep full of little characters and story snippets I used to write mostly to entertain myself on long car journeys  - I had one particularly ridiculous sci-fi story written as a series of diary entries across 4 notebooks I started when I was like … I wanna say 10? Boy.

I attempted my first actual novel at about 16. Tried it again at 21. Tried it again at 26. I’m sat, still, on my first draft of something I actually could do something with that I started 10 years ago. Me and writing have had a bit of a journey, largely due to some workplace related trauma - but coming back to it after all this time has been a lot like coming home, really. I think I’ve always been, as my mother would put it; ‘away with the fairies’.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

The honest answer is ‘probably not’. I rather enjoy non-fiction, but in terms of genres of fiction and themes within, I’d say I’m a very broad reader and outside of fic I’ve tried my hand at quite a lot of genres; I’ve dabbled in sci-fi and horror particularly, because that’s my happy zone.

Before joining the BG fandom my answer to this question would have been ‘Romance’, actually, because it was something I liked to read but didn’t necessarily feel brave enough to write; but truly, writing fic has pushed me right through my reticence to write romance of my own, and now it’s sort of all I write, I think!

Outside of that, I’m afraid I’m shamelessly drawn to the sorts of things I’d want to write.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I’ve not really been compared to anyone specifically; I’ve had a very flattering comparison of my themes in one particular story with Neil Gaiman - which is of course the kind of comparison anyone would be very happy to hear, but overall I’m not sure I’m prolific enough for that sort of thing ;).

I’m not sure who I’m trying to write like - if I’m trying to write like anyone - I like to think my prose style is reasonably my own but is almost inevitably really an amalgamation of all the people I’ve grown up reading and loving. 

Mostly, I’m a fan of the sort of magic realism/fantasy zone that doesn’t take itself too seriously, and a narrative voice that reflects that, and peppers it in around the characters own thoughts  - my bigger influences are probably in the Mervyn Peake, Warren Ellis, Pratchett, George Elliot, Peter S. Beagle sort of zone. 

To an extent, my interest in cinema and television is also a massive influence on how I write; I’ve spent most of my academic career working on breaking down scenes, the construction of frames - the threading of narratives on screen - and I don’t like to discount my favourite filmmakers and screenwriters as part of what I’m trying to achieve, too. 

Nothing should be in a scene without purpose - even if its superfluous presence is the purpose - and I keep that locked right to my heart. 

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I don’t have a dedicated space particularly - my phone at 3am, by the coffee machine between meetings, the dining room table at times, my desk at other times - scribbled in the back of a notebook on the bus.

I’m a deeply disorganised person, and my creative process is much like my life; full of piles of laundry done in fits of productivity, half stacked and waiting to be put in their proper places; invariably, waiting forever.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I have no good answer for this either - writing, for me, is rather like possession. When it has seized me I’ll readily throw down thousands of words in a flurry, and when it’s gone, it is gone. There’s little in between.

If I can’t find it - it’s usually time to steep myself, and let things sit and soak into the bones for a while. Throw on a bit of music and let it turn around in my head without trying to force it out - a tactic that for me, at least, never works - imagine some scenarios or conversations, until something or other takes root. 

Half the time it’s just about sitting in my character’s heads for a bit until I feel like I really know them, and could respond as them to questions and queries readily - this is something I’ve carried over from being a long time Dungeon Master - whose prep for sessions was about 15% maps and monster stats and 85% ‘stewing in my NPCs until there’s no question the players can ask I can’t answer in character’. 

There’s nothing quite like the mania and rush of when the muse takes control, and it’s always a bit of a sorry experience when you find yourself on the other side of it, wondering once again where it went. 

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

A few big ones - two that don’t surprise me, and one that does.

The first – coming to terms with what you were supposed to be, and what you are - the trajectory of my life hasn’t been particularly straightforward - I made a lot of decisions based on what I felt I owed to other people in my youth, my obligations to others, particularly family, steered my path towards disaster and the breakdown of my health, career, and life. I started over and found a new path. It’s not been easy. 

Over and over again I’m drawn to characters that have trajectories like this; who are coming to terms with what they thought they were supposed to be, the role they were supposed to have, and how they failed to meet those expectations - or in the case of some - how those expectations failed them. 

The second - pain, and finding the purpose within it. I have chronic pain of an unhelpful sort, acquired during the stuff I just mentioned - that can truly only be described as purposeless. In fact, I’ve had a clinician quite literally describe it as such (although the word they used was ‘pointless and unhelpful’).

I won’t pretend that’s been easy to live with, or that when I say ‘it is what it is’ whilst my body screams at me literally all seconds of all days and won't ever stop doing so forever, I’m just saying that because I can’t say anything else.

It’s not particularly surprising I ended up exploring this theme, inevitably. It’s probably why ‘Sufferer, I shall’, my Donnick x Abdirak fic, and that pairing that was so unexpected and clotheslined me out of nowhere, is the one that matters most to me. 

Finally, the theme that surprised me - is finding purpose and growth in love; for me, the heart of all the romances I write, big or small, is based on this foundation. If there’s no trajectory for individual growth, enhanced and augmented by a relationship with another - usually through the ways in which we can connect and more importantly gently contrast to push one another forward - I am not interested in the romance.

I’m painfully, painfully demisexual, so my romances need to be so dripping with Feelings it’s embarrassing. I didn’t know this about myself until I started writing it, but now I see it everywhere, and all of these three come together into a rather depressing sort of whole. I’ll sum up.

I’m constantly trying to build a happier tale than my own.

That one got sad, but it’s also the answer to this next question. 

What is your reason for writing?

See above. Writing gives me joy, but it also helps me to create a kinder, warmer world than the one I live in - even when I’m exploring its darker parts. 

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I love any comments, I truly do - they all fill me with joy - just to know someone has read something I’ve written.

I’d like to take a moment, though, to shout out to a few people in particular - because I think commenting is an art in and of itself, and instead of talking about what motivates me, I’d like to thank some people for motivating me.

When @benicemurphy found my Rolan x Geraldus fic ‘the Harper in the Tower’ I started getting some of the most insightful, most moving comments I’d ever received. The way in which you so perceptively saw every tiny hint, every theme and thread just absolutely floored me. Anyone who gets a comment from you should be honoured to do so.

This goes too for @cedar-phoenix, who I don’t think I have on tumblr (Cedar! found you!) - but who might be one of the most perceptive people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. You have an absolute gift.

@graysparrowao3 left me some of the most punch in the face comments I’ve ever had on ‘Sufferer, I shall’. Watching your trajectory of reading the story and being greeted with ‘WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL’ truly, truly made my year. 

I love it when a commenter pulls out specific lines or moments that they enjoyed - especially because it’s never the ones I expect! @tavyliasin and @n1ghtmeri left me some of the most emotional comments on ‘Sufferer’ I’ve ever had the pleasure of receiving, and @darkurgetrash picking out specific lines of my Klaus x Kar’niss fic always gets me chomping at the bit to write more. It takes time and effort to leave the sorts of comments you do, and I want you all to know how deeply I appreciate it.

And of course, my dear @lizziemajestic - the only commenter who has left me a sobbing voice note. You have no idea how much that meant, and how much it has continued to mean, to me. 

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Honestly - I’m not really sure how to answer this. I hope it’s a warm cup of coffee; a bit of nourishment. I hope they can see how deeply I feel what I write, and that some of that comes through in the words they read - too.

I really care about all these silly little guys - and if reading it makes them smile, or cry, or really anything at all, that’s what I wanted, I think.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I’m terrible at talking about my own strengths so expect this to be a rubbish answer.

I like to think I’m good at character voices; I spend a lot of time thinking about and puzzling out how a character would speak and think - and as I predominantly, if not exclusively, write canon characters and NPCs, I hope I am able to capture their voices in a way that feels natural and organic. 

I never force a character to do anything - it doesn’t work, for starters - but I really do try to let them guide what’s happening and follow them where they lead. I hope that comes across in what I write and helps create something that feels in character and plausible, no matter what’s happening; I struggle at times with worrying this might mean things seem boring, or fail to meet expectations people might have of how things are going to go - but it’s a principle I stick to. If I’m changing something fundamentally about a character it feels wrong - and that’s a guiding principle I hold.

This extends to romances and relationships; I hope, at least, I build connections between characters that feel organic and earned, even when sometimes they are characters who literally have never interacted at all before. Finding the organic spark of connection is what I most enjoy writing. 

I hope I’m pretty good at environmental storytelling, too. It’s important to show character in the same way we show ourselves - in our environments, our habits and the spaces we occupy. Everything you do, the things you surround yourself with; that’s just as much you as the you in your skull. 

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

“Why write if not to fill the world with the kinds of things I want to read?”

I try to write mostly for myself. I’ve written a few things based on prompts and ideas for others, and do enjoy that - but first and foremost, I’m writing for my own sake.

How do you feel about your own writing?

Mostly good. Mostly. I’m not the best, nor do I want to be - I try not to engage too much with thinking about the wider space and how I’m comparing to others - I know I’m plundering down in some obscure mines at times, and that’s ok - that’s where I chose to be.

I’m not good at complimenting myself, but, I have managed to write some things I’m genuinely proud of as part of finding my way back to writing full stop. 

Overall though, I think I’m just happy to -be- writing. After so long being unable to do so because of the pain and being unable to use my arms, and feeling like writing was the thing that ruined me, finding a way back to some creative joy and reclaiming my pain as purposeful has been, genuinely, a lifeline.

I apologise that this got all deep and sad. I hope if you’ve read this, you know how grateful I am to you all; I’ve been so lucky to find this space, and all of you, and myself again too.

[chaos-monkeyy]

State of Chaos

Another update! *sips maple tea this time* 

So I know I’ve been pretty absent on here lately. A large part of that is avoiding spoilers for the new Thrawn book - but my copy is IN THE TRUCK and on its way right now and I am so fucking excited! I will of course tag any spoilers or mentions of content in future posts (though I’m not sure what to tag it with? Probably just #Thrawn Ascendancy and #spoilers? Using anything with ‘Chaos Rising’ feels like I’m just telling you all I’m getting up in the morning or something 😂… any suggestions?). The other part is I’ve just been busy with IRL stuff, including - but not limited to - wading through red tape and bureaucracy for a very promising job prospect 👀, and training my sweet little idiot cat to use her fancy new feeder in an attempt to stop Unauthorized Greedy Pet (not my term, it was in the manual and I’m still laughing about it) from stealing her breakfast the moment it’s left unattended for more than about 4.7 seconds 😼

But enough about that. To the wips!!

Assassin’s Creed

Diletto (working title) 

aka the Ezio gets pegged fic - Been poking at Chapter 2 bit by bit! And getting more used to writing little chunks and snippets of fic non-linearly as they come to me, instead of just sitting at the beginning completely stuck, so that’s been an incredibly useful new skill (thank you Rev, O wise one). 

The skills of Assassins

I have made progress on Chapter 4! 🎉 Mario is really getting a slightly bemused “what have I gotten myself into” vibe that I’m quite enjoying playing with. It’s nowhere near finished yet, but it will come and so will they. 

Other

Crossover/fusion where Ezio just ~exists~ in the Witcher universe; details down in the Witcher section 😉

Ezio/Desmond under the haycart is still on the list for when I have the guts to attempt it! And I also now want to write some Desmond/Shaun smut set in AC3, where they have not-entirely-quiet sex in the echoey cavern somewhere and hopefully possibly annoy Desmond’s asshole father in doing so, just because. Seriously that game should be called Assassin’s Creed 3: Daddy Issues omfg

The Expanse

Posted

Ill-advised encounters - Havelock/Miller smut, first chapter of probably 2 or 3 total has been posted after unexpected inspiration struck! (Explicit)

Star Wars

Posted

Sleepless - a little fluffy ficlet in honour of reaching the 500 fics milestone in the Thranto tag on AO3 🥳 Eli wakes up a little unsettled from a strange dream, but Thrawn is there to comfort him (Teen and up). Extra special thank yous to @confuzing and @star-wars-rebels-5 for encouraging me to do it 😊💙

The Witcher

Flagrant Indecency 

I still plan to have the final chapter up by the Finish your Fic deadline 😁 Though I should… probably check what that deadline is… 🤔

Assassin’s Creed x Witcher crossover

So that ridiculous idea I had about Ezio just being part of the Witcher universe, with past Ezalt (Gerezio?), as-yet unrequited Geraskier (idiots in love again), and leading up to some Ezskier and tasty Gerezkier threesome action? 😏 Wellp, I have started working on it. Verrry very slowly because I’m terrified of Doing It Wrong, but I’m pushing forward anyway! *whispers* also someone else may or may not be writing their own crossover fic with these three as well, and another someone else may or may not be planning to make my version an ILLUSTRATED FIC with me!! I am extremely excited about both these things 🤩

Catskier Ficlets

@revakah went and gave me another Cat!Jaskier idea the other day, which inspired me to revisit that tumblr notfic I did awhile back, and stay up way too late last night turning it into a proper little ficlet. And I want to write the second idea as well now. Maybe I’ll actually make a Catskier series if I get enough ideas 😆 (prompts welcome… if you ever wanted to read about Geralt dealing with Jaskier as a cat, let me know and I’ll see what I can do…)

Posted

Open up - 100 words of Jaskier’s fingers in Geralt’s mouth (Mature).

Friends in low places - Kitty snuggles, Geralt gets to pet a cat for the first time, and all is not what it seems (General audiences). I still have that bloody song stuck in my head though, this is why you shouldn’t come up with fic titles at midnight

[shireness-says]

Another Page

Summary: Belle doesn’t go looking for love, but that doesn’t stop love from finding her. A 5B Divergence ‘verse snippet. Rated G. ~3.7K. Also on AO3. 

~~~~~

A/N: I’m back! Remember when I threatened to pair Belle up with someone plucked from literature? This is that fic. I just really want her to get a happy ending, okay? 

Super thanks to @snidgetsafan for helping me come up with this and plot it, and then beta-ing last minute. Seriously, she’s the best. 

Tagging the interested parties/those I’ve been whining to: @thejollyroger-writer, @spartanguard, @phiralovesloki, @profdanglaisstuff, @optomisticgirl, @ohmightydevviepuu, @thisonesatellite, @let-it-raines, @scientificapricot, @aerica13, @welllpthisishappening, @kmomof4, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes, @teamhook, @winterbaby89, @katie-dub. I’ve probably missed folks, but I don’t even remember my own tag list anymore. 

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

The unfortunate truth is that it was probably always going to come to this - Rumple waging war on Storybrooke. Today, Belle and her unborn son are just an excuse.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel guilty that other people have been dragged into it.

She barely even knows the man who has been asked to guard her inside the library as David and Robin hold down the proverbial fort outside and Killian, Emma, and Regina face Rumple elsewhere. Well, at least she barely knows him personally; his literary reputation, small as it is, has preceded him. 

Colonel James Fitzwilliam, commonly called Fitz. Young, courteous, and handsome (or so she’d say if she were looking, and didn’t have a million other concerns on her mind). She knows he arrived with the rest of the inhabitants of the Land of Untold Stories almost 2 months ago now, doing his best to keep all his compatriots organized and calm amongst the chaos of their arrival (Rumple’s doing, of course, and Belle should have seen it earlier as the distraction tactic it had been). All he’d offered as his reason for stranding himself in the Land of Untold Stories was a desire to escape all the expectations his family had placed upon him; Belle supposes she can understand that. Whatever the case, he seems… honorable. Level-headed. Capable of endearing himself even to Emma and David, enough for them to recruit him into their fledgling sheriff’s department and assign him to watch over Belle as her ex-husband does his best to tear the world apart outside to try and seize her back into his grasp and control. 

“I really am sorry,” Belle says softly, and not for the first time. 

“I can’t imagine why,” Fitz says mildly as he peers out the front windows. Things are blessedly quiet here for now, but that will undoubtedly change at any moment. 

“This is all my fault.”

Fitz turns back to face Belle. “Perhaps I’m mistaken - I was under the impression that the Dark One was responsible for this current…  tension, shall we say.” It’s kind of him not to say attack, even if that’s a more accurate word; she could do without that particular reminder. “Are you actually the rampaging maniac I’ve been warned about? Because if so - I must say, madam, that your rampaging needs work.”

He says it lightly, as a joke, but Belle has trouble finding the humor in it. “The maniac wouldn’t be, as you say, rampaging if it weren’t for me. He’s doing this because he thinks he can steal me back.”

“That may be so,” Fitz shrugs, “but from everything I’ve heard, he would have found another reason to strike. The only difference would have been your compromised safety, and I can’t believe that you believe you deserve that. Let alone your child.”

“But maybe if I hadn’t been so willfully blind - if I hadn’t been so quick to trust that he’d changed — ”

“There’s no use fixating on such things,” he tells her firmly. “Maybe things would have been different; maybe they wouldn’t have. But you wouldn’t have your child if things didn’t happen the way they did, and I have to believe that your son or daughter will be a bright spot to come from all of this.”

“Son.” Fitz’s brow wrinkles in confusion at Belle’s declaration, and she abruptly remembers that he’s still so new to the Land Without Magic that he doesn’t know yet of all its new technological capabilities. “There are machines now that can tell before the baby is even born. It’s a boy.”

“That’s wonderful,” he smiles. “This realm will never cease to amaze me, I’m sure of it.”

“It is wonderful.” Inside her belly, the baby moves and kicks, as if he knows they’re discussing him. 

Fitz gentles his tone for a moment. “You deserve that, Ms. French. Every bit of happiness that little boy will bring to your life. I know this is all a mess, but he came from it too, and no one blames you for a moment. You shouldn’t blame yourself either.”

Belle blinks back tears at his kindness, choosing to focus on the easiest bit of it. “You know, after all this, I think you should call me Belle.”

“Belle, then,” he smiles. “Well, Belle, I think this will all be over soon, and you’ll have so many good things ahead of you.”

“I hope you’re right.”

——— 

All things considered, it’s a very good day. 

Sure, bits of her body she didn’t know were capable of pain are sore, and no one has ever claimed that hospital beds are comfortable, but Belle has a son now. And he’s perfect. 

Her greatest fear in all of this has been the prospect of having to do it all alone, but if the last hours are any indication, that’s not something she has to worry about. The people of Storybrooke had seemed determined to collect her and her son into the fold, starting with Emma and Ruby holding her hands throughout and a parade of friends (who just might be family now) coming to check on Belle and meet little Gideon. 

(It’s a little fanciful, she knows, to name the baby after one of her favorite books, but Belle has room for a little fanciful in her life. Besides, she’s determined that her son be all the “handsome hero” that she needs.)

Of all the people she expected to drop by, however, James Fitzwilliam isn’t one of them. He looks very out of place in the hospital - this tall, solid man, who shuffles his feet as if he’s not sure how to act in this setting. 

“I’m sorry to intrude,” he hazards, but Belle waves him off with a cautious smile.

“You’re not intruding at all,” she assures him. “There’s been several visitors today. It’s rather nice, actually.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he smiles back, before thrusting a bouquet towards her. “These are for you.”

Belle thumbs at the soft yellow petals, delicately. “Daisies,” she murmurs.

“Sheriff Swan’s son seemed determined that roses would be a bad idea. These looked… cheerful.”

“They are, thank you.” Bless Henry for his advice; roses are still tainted for her, at least for the moment.

“I take it this is the little one?” Fitz asks, nodding towards the cradle at the side of her bed. Her son lies inside, happily asleep, lips making little sucking motions in slumber.

“Yeah, that’s him. Gideon.” Belle can hear the soft awe in her own voice, but finds no reason to temper it. 

Fitz bends over the cradle for a closer look. “He’s a handsome lad,” he decrees with a wide smile. “I see a lot of you in his features. You must be very proud.”

“I am. Thank you.” Truthfully, she sees a lot more of Rumple in her son, but they’re comforting words to hear all the same. Gideon will grow to look like his own person in time, anyways. 

“I know you must be tired,” Fitz says, “but I wanted to drop by, just for a brief moment, to congratulate you. Especially after our little adventure holed up in the library,” he winks. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?” 

Belle nods, and Fitz nods back, almost like a nervous tic.

“Good. Well then, I’ll be…” he jerks his head towards the door. 

“Thank you for stopping by,” Belle offers. This has been a bit of an odd visit, but cheering, somehow. 

“Of course.” Fitz is nearly out the door before he turns back around to say one last thing. “I’m happy for you, Belle. No one deserves this more than you do.”

And then he’s gone.

(The flowers don’t last forever, of course, but Belle takes care to press one between the pages of a book to preserve it just a little bit longer.)

———

Belle has never been much for "going out", whether by circumstance, inclination, or lack of invitation. It seems like she's been rushing, rushing, rushing, ever since she first stepped out of the asylum beneath Storybrooke Hospital and into the town proper. There's been monsters and demons and death and criss-crossing the realms and a baby, of all things, but little to no going out. Belle could probably count the instances on one hand.

But there's high reason to celebrate this time. Emma is finally getting married, after all, and Ruby has arranged a bachelorette party. Belle is a little wary about any Ruby-planned event, but at the same time, she's excited. It'll be nice to have a little break, to experience the concept of a "girl's night" for herself.

It's less clear how she ends up asking Fitz to babysit. Truthfully, it would have made more sense to leave Gideon with Killian and Charlie, or David and the rest of the Charming brood, or even with Granny. Gideon is so very fond of the colonel-turned-deputy sheriff, however, which is probably why Belle finds herself asking the favor without any prior thought.

(She's rather fond of him herself, she must admit. In the past few years, their acquaintance has strengthened into a strong friendship, built upon morning breakfasts at Granny's and his easy willingness to assist at the library whenever she needs and quiet movie nights in her apartment below the clock tower when she just needs some low-key adult company. Fitz is always there, with his easy going smile and his gentle sense of humor, happy to help and never asking more of her than she can give.)

(More and more lately, she's found a new kind of excitement and nerves brewing whenever Fitz is around, but Belle is doing her best to ignore those feelings.)

"I'm sure you must be busy on a Saturday night, and I know it's a lot to ask - it's perfectly fine if you say no -" she'd rambled, but Fitz had cut her off with a gentle hand on her arm and a warm smile.

"It's really not a problem," he'd assured her. "I'd be happy to watch the boy."

Sure enough, Gideon had squealed with glee and rushed across the room with all the boundless energy a boy just shy of two years old can possess as Fitz had appeared in the doorway. His giggles had filled the room and warmed Belle's heart as Fitz had swept her son up into the air and upside down. 

"Go have fun," he'd said. "We'll be fine here."

And she does have fun. There's dancing, and drinking - so much drinking - and plenty of laughter. Belle just might like this going out business; she's certainly not opposed to a repeat sometime, if they can arrange it with all of their wild schedules. There'd been passing concerns throughout the night about how Gideon is doing, but she trusts Fitz with her son. She's sure they're having a lovely time, and Gideon is long since sound asleep. 

She expects a quiet home after climbing the stairs to the little flat above the library - which is more treacherous than usual with her balance compromised by the combination of a variety of brightly colored drinks with ridiculous names and high heels - and she's not surprised to find it. What's more surprising is to see both Fitz and Gideon curled up on the couch with the tv playing softly in the background, her son plastered to the older man's side. 

It's such a simple, domestic little thing, to see how comfortable Gideon is with Fitz; it shouldn't affect her the way it does. Gideon is a trusting child, anyways, by some miracle of fate, immediately everyone's best friend. What really melts her heart is to see the protective arm Fitz has slung around his waist and the soft smile he wears, even in sleep. He's happy to be here, just existing with her son in the heart of their domain. It's jarring in the best way, near revolutionary. 

She loves him, she realizes in that moment - loves the way he's always there in his unobtrusive matter, that he fits into the little family unit that she and Gideon comprise. The problem is that a friend can do those things too, and even if Belle knows her own feelings, she can't speak for his, and her heart is still too fragile to try.

She tries to pry Gideon out of Fitz's arms as gently as she can to properly put him to bed, but Fitz wakes up anyways as his arm falls away.

"Sorry, darling, we got a little caught up in a movie," he whispers with a sheepish smile. Belle tries to ignore the way her pulse picks up at the little endearment, though she can’t help but sway - a combination of her drunkenness and a sudden surge of emotion. Fitz’s hand quickly flies out to brace and steady her, pulling himself to a sitting position as he does so. "Do you need any help?"

"That's alright, I've got him." By some miracle, her whisper doesn't shake as it trickles out. "Thanks for doing this."

"It was my pleasure, truly," he assures her, prying himself off the couch. 

They stand for a quiet moment, just staring at each other. Can he feel this same tension, these same feelings? She's not nearly bold enough to ask; maybe he can just see it in her eyes.

But no such luck. "I'll let you get to bed then," he says to break the silence. "I'll see you tomorrow? A late breakfast, perhaps?"

"Tomorrow," she agrees. "Goodnight, Fitz."

"Goodnight, Belle."

Even if he doesn't live here, the apartment feels emptier without him in it. 

——— 

Fitz comes by every morning to help Belle with the outdoor book drop, rain or shine, 8:30 AM, unless he’s ill or caught up with some kind of inescapable deputy business. He’d started after Gideon was born, when it seemed like half the town had taken a turn helping her out at the library when she was exhausted with her newborn and still couldn’t lift any weight. Nearly four years later now, it’s their routine, and if pressed, Belle will admit that she treasures these minutes they share each morning, retrieving books, checking them back in, and sorting them back out at the circulation desk. If he has time, Fitz often even stays to help shelve them.

(There’s something especially touching about the way he so carefully handles each volume every step of the way, especially knowing that he’s not much of a reader.)

Belle needs his help more when the weather is accommodating, but she loves watching him on sunny days like this, where the early sun shines in his hair like burnished gold. He’d cut his hair a couple of years back, and as fitting as the short ponytail at the nape of his neck had seemed, he’s impossibly handsome with his hair cropped short at the sides and just long enough to bounce and swoop at the top. 

(She’s got it bad, truly, and none of the bravery required to act on it.)

Maybe the sun on his hair hypnotized her. Or she finally just burst with feelings in a display of foolishness. Whatever the case, even as Belle feels like she’s watching a car crash in slow motion, she can’t stop her mouth from blurting out words like some terrible word vomit.

“Ruby thinks I should start dating,” she declares suddenly. Like that was even remotely a thing she planned on saying.

(It is the truth, at least; Ruby does think she should start dating. The fact that Ruby thinks she should start dating Fitz is the real crux of the issue at hand.)

Maybe anyone else would miss the way that Fitz stutters for a moment, his entire body freezing up before he continues unloading books. Then again, Belle isn’t most people, and she’s almost painfully aware of his every breath and movement after nearly five years spent dancing around one another.  It gives her a bit of hope, that maybe she isn’t quite so alone in this pining. “And what do you want, Belle?”

She shrugs casually before reaching in beside him, their arms brushing along the way. “I’m not really sure, truthfully. Gideon and I have always been fine by ourselves.”

“But?” 

“It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To have someone to care for me like that,” she replies wistfully. “It’s easy to feel a little lonely, when everyone else around here seems to have found their true love, their person.” Are you my person? Would you ever want to be?

“You’re not alone, you know.” Fitz’s voice is almost too casual, like he’s trying to conceal something else. 

“I know.” She lines the books up neatly on the cart as an excuse not to meet Fitz’s eyes, spines facing upwards. “I’ve never really done it before, though. Dating. Or even really proper courting like we might have done in the other realms. There was nothing really ordinary about what happened between Rumplestiltskin and I. There was a little in between when Rumple was banished beyond the borders, and I tried to move on, but… Will was never properly much for dating. A quick drink and kissing behind the bar? Yes. Courtship? No. Maybe it’s foolish, but I’d like to at least try. Be taken to dinner and pampered a little. I think I deserve that.”

“You do,” Fitz tells her gently, prying her hands away from where they’ve been nervously alphabetizing. “And it’s not foolish.”

“I don’t know that anything will come of it,” she says, blushing in the face of his compliments. “I’m a bookish single mother with enough baggage for a world tour. That may be too much for many men.”

“But you do want this? Dating? That’s a step you’re ready to take?”

Belle inhales, gathering her courage in a great breath before nodding. “I do.”

Fitz visibly swallows, as if he’s got his own nerves. Still, he squeezes her hands where they’re still clasped in his. “Then I’d like to be the first to take you to dinner. If you like.”

Belle can feel a smile start to spread across her face, her eyes crinkling as her mouth catches up. “You’d want that? Truly? Not just to be kind?”

“Truly,” he nods. “And very much. I’ve been terribly smitten with you for a long time, Belle, but I never wanted to overstep my bounds. I didn’t want to be some pushy bastard so soon after everything he did.”

He doesn’t need speaking. It’s terribly considerate of Fitz, and maybe even necessary. After all, it brought them here.

“Would it be horribly forward of me to kiss you?” Belle murmurs, stepping further into his space as happy, anticipatory butterflies take flight in her stomach. 

“Maybe,” he smiles back. “But I say we make our own rules.” 

“Then I’d very much like to kiss you.”

(And reader - she does.)

———

“Darling, could you spare a minute?” Fitz calls from the bedroom. “This tie is giving me trouble.”

It’s such a simple domestic request, but it still sends little flutters of happiness through Belle��s veins. Even after three years together, and four years before that as friends, Fitz is still ever inch the gentleman in every way. Loving him is warm, and gentle, and comforting. Loving him is home, in a way she hadn’t realized was possible.

Home these days, at least in the physical sense, is no longer the little apartment above the library, but a cheery yellow bungalow on a quiet street lined with lush trees. It’s a good place for Gideon to grow up, with a peaceful backyard and kids just next door right around his age, but it’s a perfect space for the three of them to grow, too - her, Gideon and Fitz. There’s space for a small study lined with bookshelves, and a spacious bedroom for a young boy to make his own, and a bright kitchen for family meals - not to mention, a master bedroom far enough removed from young ears at the top of the house in a converted attic space.

Climbing those stairs now, she finds Fitz fiddling with his necktie in the full length mirror they keep along one wall. It doesn’t look like he’s struggling that much with the garment, but it is lovely to see the way he practically lights up when she walks to him. 

“Now I know you’ve had to deal with much more complicated neckties than this,” she scolds lightly, reaching for the silk ends. “You just wanted to see me.” 

“Guilty as charged,” he admits with a smile. “But can you blame a man for wanting to see his wife, especially when she looks so beautiful?”

(That’s a welcome change, too - a ring and a white dress and so many other promises that she’s confident, finally, will be honored as a personal gospel.)

“Kiss-up.” Still, she blushes. 

“Just honest.” He leans in to softly kiss her forehead, perfectly in reach with Belle lifted up on high heels. 

“Nervous?” she asks, pulling the last loop of fabric through and down.

Fitz shrugs. “Not particularly. It’s just a formality, really. Why, do you think I should be?”

“Not at all,” she smiles back, tweaking his lapels for good measure.

And he shouldn’t be. Because this really is a formality; just a piece of paper. Fitz has been Gideon’s dad for years, happily, and both her boys had been ecstatic when she suggested they make it official. Today is just the day that a judge makes it official, with a small party with their friends to follow. 

“I love you,” Belle murmurs. It’s still wonderful even to say the words - a warmth and a peace that suffuses her entire soul.

“And I love you,” Fitz echoes back, leaning down for a brief kiss. It’s not anything particularly involved, but that’s nice in it’s own way - comforting, a promise that there will always be time for more and later and anything they want. 

It has to be short, too, because Belle can already hear feet pounding up the stairs. “Are you ready yet?” Gideon demands. His soft brown hair has somehow been tamed into submission, and she’d wrestled him into a nice shirt just before Fitz had called her upstairs. 

“We’ll be down in just a moment, bud,” Fitz tells their son. “Go ahead and wait by the door, we’re right behind you.”

As the footsteps rush back down the stairs, he offers her a chivalrous arm. “Shall we, darling?” 

“We shall.”

The rest of their life is waiting, after all. 

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

HGPC 17 - 21 | Koi to Producer 2 - 6 | Appare 5 - 8 | Fugou Keiji 4 - 6

...only just realised I was missing some tags. They should be there now or soon.

HGPC 17

Why do I get the feeling the Sawaizumi family will be held hostage one day…? (Maybe I’m just being negative?)

The episode title mentions Chiyu by name, so I wonder why the translation didn’t…

Customer service! You can’t get away from it, even in COVID times…! (Impressive!)

Hmm…you can actually read part of the booking for the Smiths in the book if you know the kanji.

I thought the Smiths would speak in English, but they actually speak in fluent Japanese if the word “susume” was any indication.

Ah, Sukoyaka sweet buns! (from the other episode about the festival)

HGPC 18

Don’t burn down your house with scented candles, kids!

Also remember to use your knees when lifting heavy boxes! (<- says a charity store volunteer, who does this stuff on the regular)

These days the mascots usually have a human form. I wonder if this is implying that particular direction…? (I woke up today and was craving a certain oneshot I’d read during my scanlation days…if it is, it would fill that niche nicely.)

I wonder if the kids will recognise this Ashita no Joe parody…?

HGPC 19

“…since you were young?”

Oh! Element of Wind again!

Koi to Producer 2

This almost feels like Victor is assigning a school project to Protag-chan…it’s a bit sad, really.

It’s nice they let Protag-chan have a personality.

It’s fine if you can’t read the katakana, but Gavin’s name is Haku in Japanese, so it throws out the immersion somewhat…also, I know I shouldn’t be complaining – I’m the target audience here – but do these guys look kinda similar or what…? (partially kidding)

High school sweethearts, huh? “Childhood friends” is my favourite angle of a romantic relationship, but it gets so overused by harems it comes around to being boring…!

I-Is this Stand My Heroes…?! (LOL…?)

Can we not with 1st person cam…?

As cute and dorky as this stuff gets…how does Gavin never get found?! Does nobody ever look up in this city?!? (I thought Evolvers were meant to be a secret…?)

GPS tracker? That’s no better than large corporations using your location data…Isn’t that creepy…?

Hold on, when did she get his phone number? You would assume it was before this entire chase after the boy happened, but still…?

LOL, the English on the board.

This anime is gonna cause me some frustration, but it gives the good stuff in roughly equal measure. It seems to omit the fact you interact via phone with your bois for intimacy (in the game).

Koi to Producer 3

LOL, that’s so clearly Gavin…

By googling, you find out Uptown and Queens are in New York.

Ohmygosh! Did the creators know I love the trope where only people with superpowers can move in certain circumstances?!

Uh…his name is Kira in Japanese? Did someone read the katakana wrong?

Pictured: Depressed bishonen eating bad pudding. (…That joke sounds better in my head. I forgot what meme I was meant to be parodying there, but I had a meme in mind.)

Lemme guess…this man (I dunno if it’s one of the previous bishies with an identical face or a new one) is looking for MC-chan. *sigh* Update: Yep, just Victor again. To be honest, I don’t like anyone who calls harsh words “their sign of love” – love should be honest and upfront. That’s how it becomes heartmelting.

Koi to Producer 4

Okay, in order, it seems to be hexadecimals, Javascript (you can tell from the “const”), some kind of profiles which are apparently for human lab rats (which seem to have some kind of nonsense filler text), a DNA model and DNA bases (ACGT).

The text on the screen says something along the lines of this being an official broadcast of this man’s arrest and this man was a genetic researcher. Obviously, if I wanted to put more attention into what it meant, I would, but I won’t sweat the details this time (because it doesn’t seem to impact the plot).

The guy’s name is Minor because minor key (geddit?)…that’s my guess.

I started playing the game due to this anime, if you didn’t know, and I unlocked an expert in ch. 2. I thought he was Minor, but turns out his name is Spine (an older man).

The diary, true to form, contains details about either one case or several cases, two involving children. The bottom of the 1st page says “if it’s fake, I’ll laugh”.

Hey, I once told Crunchyroll I wanted an anime about hacking (so is this a dream come true? I reveal all in the next sentence!). Hackers don’t congregate like this…they’d be too conspicuous, even with the secret hideout!

The code in the top left appears to be…C? I think? (Note they declare “unsigned int”.)

Kiro sometimes reminds me of Masayoshi (SamFlam)…it puts a derpy smile on my face.

*blah blah blah I’m Key* - Wuh…? F*** you, Kiro!!! (There is such a thing as piling too much cool stuff on to a character, y’know – I’m guilty of it in my own writing.)

3684 isn’t a very safe password (says someone who once aspired to be in cybersecurity).

What bugs me is that Simon is a perfectly fine name…it’s just a bit boring. Kiro/Kira I get (a bit), but Lucien/Simon…? *shrugs*

Ohh! Based MAPPA! Thank you for making this adaption look great!

Koi to Producer 5

Oh, I got an SR in the game recently and it has a line like, “Only a fool stays up all night to do others’ work. Victor talks like that a lot…

The sign so obviously says “Renka”, meaning “love flower”. “Loveland” really is a step down from that…

Where’s Gavin’s guest badge…?

“Happiness Noodle Store”…?

“…the end of our first year…”

If this weren’t a Chinese work by origin (or Japanese work by translation), I’m sure Protag-chan would have gone after Gavin, despite being told the contrary.

Kanya = Minor. I’ll take a note of that.

One of the books behind Minor says “Gale Start”…hmm…

That GPS tracker is still unintentionally creepy, IMHO.

Koi to Producer 6

…oh. (dejected) Probably a beach episode or something.

What the actual heck was going on with Lucien…? It’s like he was having a tiny stroke there…

Lucien’s power is listed as “???” in the game. I thought he was an aura-reader when he said “show me your colour”, but that shield thing he did means he might just have various psychic powers…? *shrugs* We’ll find out eventually.

Running in heels is hard…

LOL, that’s so clearly recreating a CG from one of the cards.

This is the 2nd time this has gone pseudo-isekai. As much as I like to joke about it…I fully expect someone to be sent to another world at this point.

I couldn’t possibly see Victor on any kind of game show, come to think of it.

Appare 5

This guy’s middle name is “Rich”! That’s silly!

A boombox from the 19th century…makes sense, somehow.

I only just (?) realised Al has a tiny tie on his usual outfit.

Back to the beginning already…just start!

Appare 6

…I just realised Appare mouths “I got it!” in the OP.

Al Lion (sic…?)

Isn’t Sofia in that train…? Update: She might have been, she might not. Hard to tell when they don’t confirm.

This series seriously could’ve done with a dub…Even with weird hokey Hetalia accents, it would be good stuff.

These bunches of people at designated points…reminds me of the book I was reading while in Japan. The Long Walk by Stephen King (part of a compilation). It still gives me shivers down my spine when I remember it.

This “leave in the middle of the night” thing reminds me of the Amazing Race.

“Valley of Despair” is made-up, but Death Valley exists. It’s one of the hottest places on earth, hence the name.

LOL, Kosame scores himself one (1) prarie dog and two (2) Hototos.

I thought Appare was being inconsiderate at first…but he’s being considerate, in his own way.

Oh! I didn’t realise, but Saito Soma is Al.

Appare 7

“It’s not one plus one, but one times one!” – LOL.

Hybrid engine? In the 1900s? Hmm…

LOL, I think Al just did a hadouken.

This stuff’s like an animated Galaxy Brain meme! It’s amazing!

I managed to successfully predict – without watching ahead – Appare would catch himself with his traps.

Kosame with his hair down…is rare. Not exactly attractive because we have to care about the racers rather than lust after them (and the artstyle actually prevents me from doing so, because it’s deliberately quite cartoony), but it’s rare.

Appare is surprisingly childish…that’s what makes him more than a Sheldon Cooper, I think.

The spelling of the place is actually “Ely”, if Google-sensei is any indication. C’mon, subbers! You’re American (most likely)! Can’t you put in the legwork (or the Google-fu) to discover what place in Nevada this is?!

Subbers make characters say “shit” a lot in this show, hmm? (contemplative)

Now this evil guy here *points to screen*…that’s hair I like.

Appare 8

I just love this OP…don’t you?

I like how the steam/gas boat/car has Chinese numerals on its dial.

Kosame means “small rain”, so “heavy rain” is obviously to contrast that.

The Hototo joke never gets old.

I thought I just saw someone leave the saloon…

Nice hair + terrible face = bad equation.

I can almost imagine the wee-oo-wee-oo-ooooooo…wah-wah-wahhh…(You know the one sound snippet, right? The one theme from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly - or whatever movie it is – that maybe involves a tumbleweed rolling across the screen, and then a huge shootout? If you don’t know it, play a sample on this Wikipedia page!) playing in the background.

It’s convenient the prarie dog didn’t appear when Hototo (old) had his revenge spree.

I noticed there’s a bit of a mark under Kosame’s left eye…it suggests that he’s been crying (or maybe it shows tiredness from the race…?), but it’s not that noticeable.

So that’s the real Gil…and tose were his henchmen that threatened to hang everyone bar Kosame. Got it.

(notes to self) So, for charting a course with Appare Ranman!, it’s Los Angeles -> Death Valley -> Ely -> Denver -> ??? -> New York. Got it.

Fugou Keiji 4

“Daisuke-sama” isn’t “Lord Daisuke”, it would be “Sir Daisuke”, I think…but “lord” has a proper translation in Japanese.

The truck has a Shinagawa licence plate. Anime really does like Shinagawa, huh? (Based on ID: INVADED and this.)

I think it’ll be interesting to see Kambe handle this without HEUSC.

The board for Sanchome (which is equivalent to a suburb…or a county, I guess?) has posters saying stuff like “take your dog poop home” and “let’s protect the environment!” (technically, it says “let’s protect the region/area!”, but that doesn’t translate right. There’s even a flea market. Still, those posters don’t have any big hints…not that I know of so far.

I kind of forgot that dude was the gardener for Kambe’s house…er, mansion.

I noticed a poster in the kouban says haru (spring) on it. That’s probably the same one that Haru’s name is signified by, assuming that’s not in combo with another character or few.

Oh great…the sister is an overbearing one.

Ahh…he doesn’t like natto. So that’s the problem. Daisuke is childish (like Appare)…Note I don’t like natto either, but I wouldn’t run away from home (or similar) because I was fed natto.

I noticed Kambe uses shinseki (which doesn’t refer to close family). “Relative” is a correct translation of that word, I just wanted to check that word was the right one for the context.

There’s a green tea bottle by the sink…I don’t think I’d mistake that shade of green for anything else.

LOL, I didn’t think we’d actually get to see Kambe with his hair “down”, so to speak. It’s…an interesting look, for sure.

Oh my gosh! It cost him (Haru) $15!!! (LOL, cheapskate…says the cheapskate…*suddenly droops and stops laughing*) Update: Sorry about the sudden downer there. I was having what the kids these days call a “woke moment”…at least, I think that’s how they use that term.

…I’d watch that crime drama. It’s funny.

Just realised Kato has an older model of phone than Kambe does.

This episode was kinda like a Tokyo Sonata kind of thing, huh? The sensational in the middle of the not-so-sensational…”sensational” for this show, anyway.

Those kids look like the ones from Erased.

*lightbulb goes off in brain* What if the dog went to Kambe’s…?

Can Suzue actually hear HEUSC while Kambe is using it…? $2.46 though…that is cheap, in comparison to the ham.

This was the cheapest episode so far (about $550)…probably because it was an insight into Kato’s life, more than Kambe’s.

Fugou Keiji 5

The flag seems to be based on Cameroon’s (which is in Africa, not America) and the “Arita Kinen” seems to refer to Arima Kinen, meaning this episode is set around Christmas-ish. Credit goes to Kambe Zaibatsu on this show.

I-It’s a Humvee!

Polyadoll (sic)…?

The Poliador guy speaks perfect Japanese…(?)

The star! It’s a key thingy!

I thought Kamei was the 1st Division dude with the reddish hair. Turns out it was the blonde…? Update: Redhead is Hoshino.

Ummmmmm…he was reading porn…? Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh…okayyyyyyyyyyyyy…

…oh, the costs for Kambe’s tuxedo are on there. So’s the cost for repairing the bike Suzue rode.

Fugou Keiji 6

I never knew there were so many money proverbs to be used as episode titles…

What is Kambe doing with his hands…? He’s not even using the computer.

Imura seems to use a Windows 10 with Cortana on the taskbar.

HGPC 20

What’s with all the Naruto running this episode…?

HGPC 21

(no notes, sorry!)

[burntcopper]

(text below as it’s a premium article, more pictures and such at the link)

Mark Monahan, dance critic

7 MAY 2019 • 7:00AM

It is one of those volatile spring days where the weather can’t make up its mind, and I am in the studios at Three Mills Island, deep in the East End of London, watching rehearsals for Matthew Bourne’s brand-new production of Romeo and Juliet. To judge by the section of Prokofiev’s ever-astonishing score firing from the speakers, we are in the midst of the final, calamitous scene of Act II.

Tybalt staggers on, paralytically drunk. So far, so familiar to anyone who’s seen certain Tybalts in the Royal Ballet’s production – except that he is also clutching a revolver, which he brandishes at the terrified crowd of young onlookers. He then takes Mercutio and Balthasar hostage, forcing them, at gunpoint, to snog each other. As Bourne slyly tells me a little later, “I should say, it doesn’t follow the plot exactly – it is a Romeo and Juliet-type story We have got a couple of surprises up our sleeve…”

How could Bourne possibly not? After all, he is the dance-theatre supremo who, with his company Adventures in Motion Pictures (recast as New Adventures in 2002), has repeatedly put bold new spins on old works, often opening them up to entirely new audiences.

He is most famous for having redefined ballet at a stroke in 1995 by making all the waterfowl in his Swan Lake brazenly bare-chested men. But he also spiced up Carmen with a dash of The Postman Always Rings Twice and set the result in a steamy garage (The Car Man, 2000); transformed an obscure Sixties film, The Servant, into perhaps the other sexiest dance show so far this millennium (Play Without Words, 2002); and risked taking two adored, emphatically cinematic films – Edward Scissorhands and The Red Shoes – and putting them on stage (in 2005 and 2016). It was also Bourne who set Cinderella in Blitz-ravaged London (1997), thoroughly re-cracked The Nutcracker (1992) and sharpened up The Sleeping Beauty with vampires (2012). The fact that this master choreographer-producer and storyteller – already riding high with his superb current revival of Swan Lake – is now tackling the most stirring balletic tale of all makes this the single most eagerly awaited dance show of 2019.  

“I think the key to the success of this company,” he tells me, “is that it brings in people who feel this is not something they’d normally understand, something they’re a bit scared of.”

So, besides the snippet of Act II that I catch, what sort of Romeo and Juliet can we expect when it launches in Leicester next week? The various New Adventures members I chat to prior to Bourne himself maintain an omertà-like silence about it, saying only that it’s set in an unspecified time in the near future, and reminding me that the show’s tag-line is “Imagine a time when love is forbidden …”.

Thankfully, the New Adventures grand vizier himself – remarkably affable and unstuffy in person – is a little more forthcoming. Designed (as usual with this company) by the terrific Lez Brotherston, the show, Bourne says, will be roughly two hours long, in three acts, but with just one interval, with the score rearranged (by Terry Davies) for a 15-strong live band. He also says that his scenario was “very vaguely” inspired by Anna Hope’s 2016 novel The Ballroom. Beyond that, however, Bourne is careful to tantalise rather than reveal, and this spirit of mystery extends to the show itself.

“We haven’t absolutely hit on a definite ‘this is it’ thing,” he says, “We think all these young people are in this institute. I want the audience to ask, ‘Why are they there? Is this to do with mental health? Is this a borstal? Is this a prison, a school? What is it? What’s going on? They’re obviously receiving some sort of medication. What it comes down to is that any excess of feeling is frowned upon and has to be, um…”

Quelled?

“Yes, quelled – good word! So, emotions are kept to a minimum, and they’re all young people who’ve been dumped there, because they’re trouble.”

Tybalt, Bourne explains, is now a corrupt guard. And, although there appears to be no Capulet family in this version, “we still get one set of parents, the Montagues, who bring Romeo there. We see him arrive, and they’re a bit like Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright in House of Cards, a political couple probably, and Romeo’s a bit of an embarrassment. He’s a bit like [the US President’s youngest child] Barron Trump, but a little bit older. He seems to have been locked away somewhere, bless him, poor boy.”

Bourne also hints that he, true to form, will not be holding back on the sensual side of things.

“I felt I could capture something that’s not in the ballet if we set it in a different time, something that was a bit more raw, a bit more like young people really are. I mean, when they get together, they go for it. They’re not thrilled by a kiss on the cheek – if they’re kissing, they’re kissing for hours.”

The regularity with which the word “young” comes up as we talk nods to another remarkable aspect of this new production. It marks the largest confluence to date of the two main strands of Bourne’s company: its fully professional performing side, and the charitable arm that aims to inspire young people to try their hand at dance. In practice, this means that a huge and heartening number of young people are involved in every aspect of the production which features two separate casts, each with their own set of star-crossed lovers.

It’s remarkable enough that two of the Juliets – Bryony Wood and Bryony Harrison – are just 19 and 21 respectively, and that one of the Romeos (Harrison Dowzell) is also 19. But many of the performers will be younger still.

A year or so ago, the company did a nationwide call-out for what they call the “local casts”. It whittled the 1,000-odd trainee dancers who applied down to 97, all aged 16-19, who will now be performing with the company. Throughout the 13-venue tour, New Adventures will be divided in half, with each half leapfrogging the other across the country. So, as one (dubbed the Capulets) starts performing in one town, the other (the Montagues) will begin a week’s pre-show rehearsal in the next. And waiting to join the company in every city, with the adrenalin doubtless pumping ferociously, will be six of those already-prepped youngsters. (The exception is the Leicester sextet, already involved in the London rehearsals.)

This, I suggest to the young-cast rehearsal director Paul Smethurst, looks like a project that could benefit British dance full-stop. “We have definitely found the next generation of star dancers,” he says. “And, we’ve found so many of them.”

What’s more, this youth drive extends to every aspect of the production. For example, young associate choreographer Arielle Smith is just 22. When she insists to me that Bourne often tells her, “Do what you want to do!”, and Smethurst, that “Arielle has a real voice and a real vision that she’s bringing to the piece”, I do privately wonder just how much trust the 59-year-old, Tony- and Olivier-garlanded Sir Matthew Bourne, OBE can really be putting in one so young. Then, minutes later – with Bourne coaching the principals across the corridor – there she is, working with dozens of corps members, and “holding” the room with complete command.

Now, these are, of course, gender-fluid times, especially in the eyes of the young. Besides which, Hackney-born Bourne (who these days lives in Islington with his partner, fellow choreographer Arthur Pita) has often toyed around with sexuality in his productions. Was he, I wonder, tempted to make his Romeo and Juliet a gay romance?

“Well,” he says, “I suppose years ago I may have gone with that. But, following on from Lord of the Flies [revived in 2014 with a largely teenage cast], which was all men, I didn’t feel this was the right time to go all male. So I thought, no, this is a chance to work with young people of both sexes.”

That said, Tybalt’s viciously enforced embrace does suggest that Bourne is up to plenty of gender-related mischief here.

“Oh, definitely, yes,” he confirms. “We wanted to have all life is here a little bit, especially with all the young people involved. I give them a bit of freedom with whatever sexuality they choose to be – how their character identified was important. For example, Mercutio’s got a boyfriend in this – that’s Balthasar. And there are a couple of girl characters who identify as gay, with one, Frenchy, who’s in love with Juliet.”

If anyone can get away with all this sort of thing, it is Bourne. His theatrical instincts have seldom let him down over the years (2008’s Dorian Gray the exception that proves the rule), and the brief section I see rehearsed – despite the absence of proper set, lighting, costumes and live music – is genuinely thrilling. What, I ask him, is the secret of his success? How has someone who didn’t even start dance training until he was 22 (at the Laban, in south-east London) made such a colossal mark on the dance world?

He credits his famous obsession with character – with giving every single person on stage a backstory and a purpose – with having collaborated on various non-New Adventures shows with “great directors” such as Trevor Nunn, John Caird, Sam Mendes and Richard Eyre. He also adds, “I think the key to the success is that I’m also quite reverential. I love the ballets, I love the scores, and I don’t want to mess with them too much. I want to honour the composers in a way that I feel is OK. And I want to tell a story to people.”

And want to get the audience involved?

“Yes,” he confirms. “And it just comes completely naturally to me. It’s not something I work at. I’ve never thought, ‘How do you get an audience on-side?’ It’s just completely the way I think about things, and I don’t see the point of it otherwise.”

Matthew Bourne’s Romeo + Juliet opens on May 13 at the Curve, Leicester, and tours the UK until October. Details and tickets: new-adventures.net

[winterysomnium]

What’s left (is you)[3/3]; Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku;BNHA; word count: 5,700+ words; rated: PG-15; warnings: slight gore, violence,full tags on AO3; 

notes: I've finally managed to edit the last chapter of this, I guess I've been having a bit of doubts as usual but! Thank you so much for everyone who commented so far, you've all made my day and it warms my heart so much and I love talking to you!! ♥ Thank you so much for the kudos and bookmarks as well! Hope the last chapter won't disappoint! I am pondering about adding a one shot from Izuku's pov to this story, maybe some little snippets here and there, not 100% sure yet. Thank you so much again!

summary: After the pro hero Deku loses his memory as a result of an assassination attempt, Shouto is struggling to cope with everything his boyfriend’s recovery entails: from the threat of another attack to the possibility of Izuku’s memories never coming back. 

(Oh, and did Shouto forget to mention that he’s 90% sure Izuku was trying to break up with him before the attack, on top of everything?) 

read the story on AO3

In the listless deep of the night, Izuku’s soft knock resembles a gunshot, Shouto’s name muffled through the door but heard nonetheless, as the cocoon of sleep breaks apart around him rapidly.

For a dizzying second Shouto can’t recall where he is.

The thick covers slide off and pool in his lap silently as he sits up and recognizes the room: he’s home, he’s been asleep for a while and Izuku -- Izuku’s at his bedroom door.

The door itself is slightly ajar and Shouto can see Izuku’s bare thighs and restless feet, the worn shirt that dips low on his shoulder where the collar has been widened by Izuku’s growth, his hair is a wild crown of curls.

(Shouto wills away the sleepy embers of arousal, the heavy, rich want that sweep over him at the sight.)

There’s a reason why Izuku’s here.

“What’s wrong?” Shouto asks, the worry pushing at the dryness of his throat as he gets up off the floor and walks over to Izuku, checks him over one more time, properly, from up close.

He seems unharmed but he wouldn’t wake up Shouto if there was nothing to say: something must be going on.

“Sorry for waking you up, Shouto-kun,” Izuku apologizes softly and Shouto flushes over the sound of his name.

He clears his throat.

“It’s fine. What happened?”

“It’s … going to sound strange. And you can say no if you hate the idea! You can say no even if you don’t hate the idea and just don’t want to do it! Any answer is fine, really -- I just thought -- maybe I shouldn’t have -- but I --”

“Midoriya.”

Izuku’s ears turn red.

“Would you sleep in our bed with me tonight?” he blurts out, hands moving as he speaks, as if he’s waving the words away. “And I don’t mean like sleep sleep, I mean sleep sleep like real sleep, proper sleep with clothes on and covers on and everything on and everything!” He’s breathless, like he’s barely catching up to his own words, like he’s only got the one mouthful of air left, using up all of his reserves, rushing everything he needs to out of his mouth, before he finally, finally slows down.

“I … I’ve been having nightmares about the attack again and tonight’s been especially bad for some reason -- maybe because it’s a new moon and the room gets really dark and … it’s easier for me. To fall sleep when I’m not alone.”

There’s an unsure openness to his request, like it would truly be okay for Shouto to say no, to leave Izuku stranded in consciousness, to leave him awake and anxious, vulnerable to the creativity of the dark.

Like Shouto’d ever do that.

“Yeah, sure,” he answers easily, with more bravado on his shoulders than he truly possesses but he’s not going to turn back. He’s already pushing the door wide open and stepping across the threshold of his room; their short, shared journey to the other bedroom, the other bed, surprisingly smooth.

Izuku only hesitates at the foot of the bed, picking up the blanket whose half has fallen off onto the floor, indecisive on where to lie down.

“Which side do you usually sleep on, Shouto-kun?”

“Left.”

“Oh.” Izuku nods and as if it truly strikes him that Shouto’s going to be here, with him, in bed Izuku rushes back onto the spot he’s been sleeping on earlier with stiff determination, pulling the blanket up over himself, exposing just the top of his ears.

Shouto settles himself down with less of a rush, accepting the blanket Izuku offers him; their fingers touch.

Izuku curls into himself like a tired cat, hiding in the coil of his spine, the thickness of the night. “It’s strange,” he murmurs, before he rolls over, facing Shouto’s side of the bed. “I lie down on the right side every night but I always wake up on the left, in the morning.” Like I’m following you, he doesn’t say.

“Oh. You do?”

The blankets shift, a nod. “Yeah.”

Shouto hums into the dark.

“I see.”

The quiet spills, soaks into the borders of their skin.

Izuku creates a sound, again.  

“Shouto-kun?”

“Hmm?”

“Is it unfair of me to ask if you miss me?”

Shouto’s heart stills.

(It really, really is.)

“A little bit, yeah,” answer, admit his lungs, for his heart.

“Can I ask anyway?”

Shouto’s blood stills too: then it runs.

It runs.

“I do. I do miss you, Izuku. But --” he moves closer, pulls at the cotton that hides Izuku’s face, pulls it down. Pulls at it until he uncovers him, like a secret, a fossil of an ancient sea. “But: it’s okay. Because you’re here, either way. Because somehow you still look at me the same way. You still look at me with the same kindness. You treat me with the same kindness. And that’s enough.”

Shouto hesitates as he tucks a wayward strand of Izuku’s hair behind his ear, gently, like he’s afraid to touch him, afraid to get any closer than he has.

Izuku allows the touch to linger, instead.

“Shouto-kun, can I hug you?” he asks, his own palm hovering over Shouto’s careful, wispy fingers.

“Of course.”

And Izuku’s there, in a second, in a mere moment, he’s slamming his weight against Shouto’s, close enough for Shouto to feel every inch of his skin, his height, his heart.

Izuku presses his cheek to Shouto’s chest, breathing him in.

When Shouto’s senses calm down, minutes later, he does the same.

(“Goodnight, Shouto-kun.”

“Goodnight.”)

---

After a series of check up’s and two more weeks of healing, Izuku’s officially cleared for stand-by duty.

It’s a bittersweet victory, in Shouto’s eyes.

No one will actually call upon the hero Deku for a fight or a mission offer -- while he’s able to activate his quirk and control it enough not to injure himself, he’s unable to utilize it properly yet -- but he’s also not on sick leave, anymore.

Izuku’s fought for it to be that way and Shouto can’t fault him: he asks for his leave status to be changed to a stand-by duty as well.

(They’re still afraid Izuku’s going to be targeted again, after all.)

It’s a first in the series of defeated victories, bitter with guilt only Shouto experiences: he’s angry at himself for thinking any of it is a bad thing at all.

Izuku will get his memories back.

The confirmation came from the investigation team of Point Blank’s quirk; it turned out to be a hypnosis based power requiring undisturbed, mutual eye contact -- resembling Eraserhead’s in that regard -- locking away memories one concept at a time, reaching deeper and further the longer it’s used on the victim.

It takes about a day to recover whatever’s gone, for every second it’s used.

They estimate Izuku’s exposure to have been under a minute, perhaps 70 seconds at most -- no one’s seen how long Point Blank has been able to withhold his gaze -- which means: Izuku should be getting his memories back, any day now.

Shouto longs for him terribly.

Shouto dreads it happening more.

(What if his fears have been correct, from the start?

What if they’re over and Izuku’s being mislead?

What if they’re never going to be what they were again?

What if they’re over?

It won’t leave his head.)

The next blow is the group of fourth graders that barrel them over on a walk to a convenience store -- the two of them have been sparring at an agency gym and it’s too late to start on a homemade lunch when they’re starving and sore, now -- and the five kids crowd Izuku with overwhelming intensity, chattering one over the other, asking if he’s all better? Deku, you’re gonna be back soon right? Can we take a picture? Will you sign my bag? and Shouto has no problem with the kids -- it’s the press he’s worried about.

He knows they’ve been hounding them for days and he’s worried their questions might get too personal, might cause Izuku to fall into a headache like he still often does and really: Shouto’s in no mood to even be polite to someone who he’s seen going through his trash.

He leans down next to Izuku to sign a bag and answers a few questions softly, musters up a smile because this innocent, open affection warms his heart to the core, it does and despite there being a million things to worry about, he won’t become someone like Endeavor, someone who’s been known to be unapproachable and rude.    

He senses it before it happens.

They’re pulling themselves up to their full height after a round of posing for photos, Izuku’s arm slung around his shoulder and the kids still huddled close, comparing their pictures excitedly when Shouto’s body tenses, a foreboding running through his bones.

He shoves Izuku away.

Shouto’s ice erupts from around them in a wide arc just as a slew of bullets whizzes across the street and clusters its heaviest where Izuku stands, taken aback.

“Get back!” Shouto commands as he runs up an icy road and the group of fans is already being shielded by Izuku’s body, rushed into the doors of the store.

(Shouto silently begs for Izuku to stay inside too.)

There’s another round of shots, curving up along the arch of his ice and chipping away at its borders, embedding in the dry asphalt of the street underneath when Shouto drops down onto the ground and hounds the backward trajectories of the shots, he’s already recognized the annoyingly familiar threat.

Not this guy again.

Shouto dodges an attack that would’ve sliced him apart if it struck and forms another wall as the onslaught continues, he needs to unblock his path of vision (no more ice in front), he needs to decide which way to hide.

If he goes right, he’ll give Bulletproof an opportunity to attack Izuku and the kids freely; if he goes left, he’ll bring the fight to them himself.

There’s no good option.    

But if he’s close he can protect them better.

(Shouto leaps left.)

He can’t rely on his icy barriers if he wants to stop Bulletproof quickly: his quirk is too annoyingly long range and precise for a long, drawn out fight and Shouto has to multitask to boot; he has to avoid the bullets and catch them with his ice at the same time, so that they won’t harm anyone else behind.

Bulletproof’s not the best match for Shouto.

But there’s a delay and a downside to the guy’s power too.

He has to aim the bullets he creates before he constructs them and it’s up to Shouto not to give him time for them to hit.

It’s up to Shouto to pin down where he’s shooting from.

Getting close is risky, as is playing both offense and defense like this -- the street’s not a busy one but the convenience store is way too close for comfort -- so there’s not much else Shouto can think to do:

He runs straight for the source.

(His fire burns.)

His fire consumes the shaky mist he breathes out, warming up his core, heating up his speed as he catches up, as he braces for the impact of the collision, the detonation that will follow.

It’s just another disadvantage Shouto has to face.

Bulletproof’s body produces its own gunpowder and none of it is accessible on his skin: it’s only exposed at the moment when a bullet’s born, when it’s about to be shot.    

Shouto’s flame flares, melts the air, meets up with the explosive whisper under Bulletproof’s skin and stings, scorches as he flings himself upward -- he braces against Bulletproof’s shoulder as leverage, at the very second the explosion knocks them apart.

Shouto softens his own fall easily, landing on the comforting slide of his ice and quickly locating the fallen villain, just in case -- he needn’t worry.

Bulletproof was knocked down the asphalt road, out cold and Shouto quickly surrounds him by a thin sheet of ice, a temporary imprisonment.

He hears cheers and wonder and -- it’s the kids, unscathed and jumping around inside the second floor of the store and Shouto would scold them for climbing up there to watch when they could’ve gotten hit and hurt but he spots Izuku, fast approaching Shouto’s smoldering silhoulette, avoiding the softened asphalt.

Shouto’s charred clothes expose a strip of his skin from hip to shoulder.

(Shouto pretends it doesn’t make him feel shy.)

“Shouto-kun, are you okay?! I’ve called the reinforcements a while ago, they should be on their way right now!” Izuku informs him rapidly and there’s a conflicted expression on his face as he glances between the villain at their feet, the kids in the window and Shouto catching his breath: Shouto smears some ash on his cheek when he rubs at it, still somewhat shy.

“I’m fine,” Shouto says, following Izuku’s gaze, the questions on Izuku’s mind. “I can’t believe he actually attacked you when we’re off duty.” Bulletproof’s always boasted that that would be too easy in the past, bent on defeating -- destroying -- Deku in an honest, full on fight. “Guess that last time really pissed him of,” Shouto adds thoughtfully, more to himself: the fight ended abruptly and crushingly easily that day -- it took Izuku one move to knock Bulletproof out, all while being publicly recorder by a big news channel.

The humiliation must have risen above his morals then.

“You think he’s connected to the previous attack?” Izuku asks distractedly, like it’s not really the thing that’s at the forefront of his mind.

Shouto shakes his head. “Don’t think so. This is Bulletproof, he’s targeted you before in the past. He’s been in prison since last spring, but he must’ve escaped. He might have had help there, but I doubt he’s in touch with the group. Is everyone okay? No one got hit, right? You’re unharmed too?”

“Oh. Ah -- yeah, yeah everyone’s fine. I’m fine. You were incredible, Shouto-kun.” Izuku jolts, almost, at being addressed directly and his face flushes; he seems a little unsteady on the uneven, slippery feel of the melting ice, the sticky road.

Shouto will have to clean this up in a bit, once Bulletproof’s apprehended.

Or maybe there’ll be someone on duty with a good clean up quirk since he’s not really on duty properly anyway --

Izuku pulls at Shouto’s wrist, strong enough to make him stagger, shorten the spaces in between their heads.

“You were incredible, Shouto,” Izuku repeats and leans up, meets Shouto’s surprised sound.

And then he kisses him.

The contact’s short, both of them taste after smoke and adrenaline but Izuku’s lips are soft against Shouto’s and he’s being kissed, kissed hard, kissed like it’s the last kiss they’ll ever share -- until Izuku pulls away, lips red, face flushed pink.

“S…Sorry. I just really, really wanted to do that.” Izuku swallows, a nervous smile lifting his freckles up, up the curve of his cheek.

Shouto’s helplessly dazed.

“I know my life was being threatened and there were other people involved who could’ve gotten hurt and you could have gotten hurt but before I knew it you were using your quirk and I’ve probably seen it a thousand times before but I don’t remember and it was so amazing how fast you were and then you caught on fire and -- holy shit, that was so hot, Todoroki-kun,” Izuku rambles on and rubs his cheeks just to have an excuse for why they’re so bright red and hot and Shouto wonders if he somehow managed to swallow gunpowder during the fight, when he was blown back from Bulletproof’s body.

He must have.

He must have because --

his insides are positively on fire.

He’s left speechless, Izuku’s lips locking his mouth into stunned silence and it’s a good thing the reinforcements arrive at that moment: Shouto might have done something embarrassing.

Shouto might have kissed Izuku again, just as hard.

He might have kissed him, just like that.

It’s a good thing; not a regret.

(It’s not a regret.)

---

The kiss positively haunts Shouto.

It lingers on his lips for the rest of the day and when he wakes up the next morning, there’s infuriatingly palpable desire buzzing under his skin, thick and heavy: he’s almost feverish with want.  

He wants to find Midoriya’s shoulders and kiss him stupid, he wants to push him into the covers and make a mess of him, he wants to press Midoriya up against a wall and just touch him, have him for a little while, take everything Midoriya would be willing to give.

But he can’t. He couldn’t.

He lies still until the heady fantasies fizzle out of his skull, cooling himself enough for Izuku to shiver next to him, despite the several inches and the blankets between them.

(Thankfully, Izuku’s still asleep.)

The kiss is why Shouto keeps staring at Izuku’s lips throughout the days that follow, always a moment away from being caught.

It takes a lot of Shouto’s self control not to stare openly, not to imagine Izuku stripping off his shirt, not to ask if he could steal touches that he knows won’t be rejected but -- when Izuku remembers ,he could hate you for it.

The thought sobers him, every time.

Izuku must notice something’s -- different, something’s shifted, because he looks up from his dinner curiously, the only time Shouto allows himself to be this close to him nowadays -- it’s just torture, otherwise -- and there’s concern written into his mouth.

“Is everything okay, Shouto-kun?”

Shouto quickly shoves a mouthful of rice between his lips. “Yeah. Everything’s fine,” he mumbles through his full mouth, adding more rice to avoid speaking any more.

“Say…” Izuku hesitates, before the determined set of his teeth shuts it off; he wriggles on his chair, shyly. “How did we get together? I’ve been meaning to ask for a while.”

Shouto swallows heavily as the question sears its way through his mind, almost makes him choke on his food.

(Is the kiss on Izuku’s mind, as well?)

Shouto thumps on his chest a few times, just to unblock the clump of feeling at the bottom of his throat.

Izuku watches him, patiently.

“We started dating in our second year, a few weeks after my birthday,” Shouto finally says.

“How did it happen?” Izuku prompts him and Shouto can already feel the flush hiding under his own skin unfurl, again.

“Well. We were studying together in your room, sitting next to each other. You were rubbing your cheek with the eraser on the end of your pencil and I looked over at you and I … I realized that I really wanted to kiss you. I didn’t realize I was leaning close to you until you looked at me and it was obvious what I was about to do because our faces were so close. So I apologized and ran out. You sought me out after school the next day and confessed to me.”

“That’s … kind of really cute.” Izuku smiles up at him: there’s a bit of wonder stuck in his eyelashes. “Now I’m wondering when I realized that I wanted to kiss you …”

“You shouldn’t try to remember. Your head will hurt,” Shouto chastises him and Izuku laughs.

“Still wish I could remember.”

A soft breeze presses between them; the opened window carries in a flicker of sound.

“Will you… will you tell me if you remember? You never did before,” Shouto asks, pretending to be busy dipping his piece of chicken into a sauce, coating it thoroughly, pretending the question was a whim.

Izuku grins.

“Deal.”

---

Izuku’s tired.

He’s tired of the standstill that’s been his life since the first attack, the restlessness always nipping at his heels and he can’t keep his energy in, he can’t keep himself busy enough.

He’s cleaned most of the apartment throughout yesterday and this morning, helped with lunch and then made tea and scrubbed the oven clean and he’s about to take apart that one squeaky cupboard door that doesn’t seem to close properly when Shouto steers him into their bedroom and shows Izuku a heap of heavy boxes hiding in one of the unused wardrobes with a resolute look on his face.

They’re stacked full of old hero magazines and hero sticker sets, carefully sorted and displayed in various notebooks and Izuku’s elbows  deep in the second box already minutes later, the old, frayed pages filling him with a sense of comfort and nostalgia he doesn’t quite understand but appreciates nonetheless.

It’s then that he knocks over a little jewelry box, hiding underneath an especially thick volume dedicated solely to All Might’s career.

It’s fairly small, definitely not big enough for a necklace or a watch, that much Izuku can tell, and it’s probably something Izuku’s bought, if it’s in here because Shouto admitted they bought that wardrobe pretty much just for Izuku’s hero stuff collection entirely.

He thumbs the smooth, shiny surface and then rubs his fingerprint away with a soft sound: he’s almost ashamed of wanting to open it.

It’s something that’s his, yes, but it’s something he got before he lost half of his mind and it feels like he’s prying, like he’s going to see something intimate and private that he won’t necessarily understand -- but that’s just silly.

It was him who bought it in the first place.

(And Izuku’s way too damn curious not to look: he can admit this, at least to himself.)

He pushes at the top of the box, opens it with his heartbeat stuck in his fingertips, loud and fast.

It’s a ring.

It’s a ring, he realizes, with an oh that barely forms in his mouth and seems louder in his skull, everything Shouto’s said earlier makes sense and the thought is sudden, fierce.

There’s no other warning.

There’s no sense of a buildup or of a release, there’s no bracing for the burst of pain or the scattered pieces sewing themselves back in, rewinding their decay until they’re whole and alive and so so painful, so overwhelming: it just happens and Izuku’s not sure if he’s still a being, if he’s under water, if he can breathe, where he is, if he’s alive, anything at all.

His head hurts impossibly, splittingly, a sharp, pressing pain that holds his skull and expands against it and if it doesn’t stop, if it doesn’t go away, if it won’t deflate his skull will give, it’ll give in, give way, it’ll crack, crack open, it’ll pop and he’s going to be gone gone gone --

it stops, just like that.

The headache recedes, shrinks away into a gasp, a sense of worn out synapses, leaving a vague sense of nausea as the world spins where he kneels upon it, just a little too fast.

He doesn’t move, waits for the sway to settle and slowly, sluggishly, the vertigo ebbs away, subsides, dies down like the embers of a fire until it disappears, ashes blown into the sky.

Izuku remembers who he is.

(And Shouto -- you absolute idiot. You utter, amazingly dumb moron, god.)

Izuku’s never stopped loving him, after all.

---

After making sure Izuku won’t take apart their whole apartment because he’s bored and there’s too much of him not exhausting himself with nothing to do, Shouto’s stuck going through some of the reports his agency publishes onto their private network regularly: there’s one in particular his Father wants Shouto to take a closer look at and he’s thinking so hard whether to open the file or not -- the thought of his Father a knot in his mind he can’t untangle yet, despite everything -- that he first hears the footsteps when they hit the tatami floors.

They’re not quiet, they’re not slow and with the little time to process what’s happening, Izuku’s already sunken down onto his knees behind him when Shouto even thinks to turn around.

He doesn’t get to it: warm, scarred arms wrap around him and he’s being held, held tightly, held so tightly he thinks they might melt into each other, into one mess of a being, his shoulder blades copying the outline of Izuku’s lungs and if Izuku squeezes any more their imprints will be stuck on his clothes, underneath them, wherever they touch.

Izuku’s voice is fond, it’s exasperated and so so familiarly pitched Shouto’s heartbeat skyrockets, slams into his blood.

“Shouto,” Izuku presses into the crook of Shouto’s shoulder, like Shouto’s forgotten he knows how to say his name; repeats it some more.

“Shouto. Shouto, you idiot. Shouto, you absolute moron.” and Izuku winds his arms around Shouto tighter still and Shouto’s breath hitches, stops inside of his chest.

“Midoriya?”

“Izuku. It’s Izuku. It’s been Izuku since our third year,” Izuku answers and the feeling of relief and shame and anxiety all tangle up inside of Shouto, wringing inside of his gut, something alive and heavy.

(They seep down, down into his throat, soak up his teeth.)

“You remember?” he asks: it must be. Izuku must have remembered.

Izuku must know.

“I remember.”

Izuku won’t let go.

Shouto wants to see him, needs to see him, so he touches Izuku’s fingers, presses at the mountain range of his knuckles, tries to pry them apart.

“Izuku. Izuku, let me see you?” he asks, pleads, but Izuku shakes his head, presses his forehead against Shouto’s back.  

The irony of it passes both their minds: now that Shouto is the one who chases him, chases after, Izuku is the one who avoids it, avoids meeting him head on.

The memory of everything sinks in, thick and like glue.

“You were the first one at the attack site, weren’t you? I remember now. They had a TNT quirk user blow down a building on me and Point Blank so she would have time to erase everything I knew and then kill me. He’s probably how they got to blow up so many agencies in one go -- he said something about having siblings.” Izuku breathes in, there’s something churning inside of him, violently loud, violently shaken.

It could be fear.

I could be how easily he’s forgotten how to fight.

It could be just how close they’ve gotten.

(It could be none of that or all of the above.)

Shouto listens, silent, just as afraid.

“They made me forget. They made me forget and nothing made sense anymore and they were going to kill me but then --then you were there.”

Izuku bites at his mouth, for once unsure what to say next.

(Is thank you ever going to be good enough?)

Shouto manages to intertwine their fingers where they meet at his chest, his own mouth bitten dry; there’s comfort in feeling Izuku breathe. “I … I wasn’t alone and I wasn’t the first one there. But I …I was the first to find you, yes. I tried so hard to get to you. When we found out you were their target I -- I know you’re strong, Izuku, I know you’re capable, I trust you but I still -- I --“ Shouto cuts himself off, unable to express what he had felt, fully, entirely. He settles for an apology, too, instead. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you. I’m sorry.”

Izuku rubs his forehead against Shouto’s back in a silent plea, a soundless no.

“You had blood on you. Were you injured too?”he asks, softly.

(Shouto struggles to remember anything else but Izuku, on that day.)

“I cut myself on a piece of wiring. It was only a scratch. Most of the blood was yours.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I worried you so much, Shouto. I’m sorry I let it happen.”

“Izuku, there isn’t anything --”

“Shouto,” Izuku cuts him off and he’s still rubbing his forehead against Shouto’s back, in small, short shifts, little warm presses.

It spreads warmth throughout Shouto’s spine, like he’s submerged into a hot spring.

Like he’s encountered summer, on a wintery day.

“Yes?”

“I know why I’ve been avoiding you before. Well, avoiding talking to you, directly. I know now. I know what I was trying to do.”

Finally, Izuku allows Shouto to face him, an awkward moment spent to rearrange their limbs and trying not to let go and when Shouto sees him, at last, it takes the very last piece of his heart away, burns it right into Izuku’s palm but there’s nothing hollow about it: he’s getting just as much back, Izuku’s face loving, loved.

Shouto has been wrong all along, hasn’t he?

“Shouto, I was never going to break up with you. It never even crossed my mind. God, just thinking about it, just thinking that you thought that makes me want to cry,” Izuku continues and he wants to shake Shouto, find that sense he’s apparently lost somewhere under the furnishing of doubt and wrong assumptions and just shake him, he wants to shake it out of him all.

“What were you doing, then?” Shouto asks, with hope on his lashes and worry on his teeth and Izuku lets go of his hand, reaches into the back pocket of his jeans.

He opens his palm up around the jewelry box and Shouto freezes, like he’s afraid to ask what’s inside, afraid to touch the very air around it.

“I’ve never stopped loving you, Shouto. On the contrary.” Izuku grabs Shouto’s hesitant hand and puts it on the top of the box in an attempt to get Shouto to open it, to move. To figure it out.

(To do more than stare.)

Izuku rubs at the back of his neck, nervously. “I was mainly meeting up with Ochako and Yaomomo trying to do this without the press finding out, since, you know, it would’ve been a disaster if they knew before you and published a story on it and you found out that way and Yaomomo knows a lot of discreet jewelry stores that were being really helpful and she also helped me find this private onsen place by the sea I was going to take you to but I’ve never really met up with her before that much and you’d probably figure it out or be suspicious why I was suddenly meeting her so much and I really wanted to surprise you so…” Izuku rambles on until Shouto moves, one hand holding the box on Izuku’s palm steady as the other pries the top open gently: Shouto stills, quiet again and Izuku waits impatiently, the worry gnawing at his lips now too, insistent and loud.

Shouto gapes.

“Izuku. Are you --is this --?” Shouto asks, reverent, touches the ring with his fingertips softly, like he’s afraid he’s going to crush it with his touch, break it within his palms.

“I was trying to ask you to marry me all this time, idiot,” Izuku confirms, with a fond, fond smile and Shouto takes the ring off of the cushion it rests upon, closes his fingers around its shape.

He’s unable of looking away.

“… You can take me there for the honeymoon,” he finally says, his bright, happy smile wobbly and Izuku’s chest, his whole being expands, just at the sight, the thought of Shouto finally, finally free of his doubts.

“Take you?” he asks though, confused, the words catching up just as Shouto presses into him and kisses him breathless, kisses him free.

“To the onsen,” Shouto answers against Izuku’s lips: his smile doesn’t waver, doesn’t hesitate anymore. “You can take me there for our honeymoon, instead.”

And Shouto smile’s is simple now, simply warm, simply affectionate, entirely, solely made for Izuku.

(Izuku’s never loved him more.)  

“Does that mean …?”

“Yes.” Shouto nods as he holds Izuku’s face, tenderly. “Yes.”

Shouto can’t believe he’s been this stupid.

He can’t believe he’s misread Izuku, so so badly.

He can’t believe it’s been this obviously good, when he thought it was so obviously bad.

(He almost, almost doesn’t kiss Izuku stupid.)

But then Izuku copies his tender smile, holds Shouto’s fingers against his face and kisses him once, just a touch.

Just a reminder.

“I’m back,” Izuku says.

(Shouto knows what to do.)

“Welcome home,” he says back.

---

Shouto’s phone rings three days later, after the rush of Izuku’s recovery has settled and quieted down to a hush and a way too smug Ochako, and Shouto’s wholly unprepared for the shout that’s shrill and high right in his ear the moment he picks up.

“WHAT THE FUCK FUCKING HALF ‘N HALF?!! You fucking let DEKU beat you to asking him to marry you??? Are you fucking serious?? I lost thirty bucks because of your dumb halfassed ass!!! DON’T FUCKING TALK TO ME AGAIN!”

Shouto hears Ochako cackling in the background and Iida telling Bakugou to “please, accept your defeat honourably and pay up already,” and he doesn’t get to point out that it was Bakugou who called him before Bakugou hangs up and leaves Shouto a little bewildered and questioning, his ear ringing as he holds his phone a good foot away from his head.

Izuku shrugs from the couch, smiling up at him when he catches Shouto’s puzzled look, but there’s a smirk at the corners of his smile, a knowing curve.

The metal of the ring on Shouto’s finger pulls sunlight into its shape as he puts his phone down, warming it up, reflecting little glimmers of light, of warmth, of Izuku’s affection.

They’re already discussing the date of the wedding.

(Shouto’s already looking for a ring to give Izuku back.)

There’s still plenty to worry about: the attack on Izuku, his stilted relationship with his Father, every little thing that Shouto hasn’t quite unlearned yet, every piece of him that’s still a bit too loose, too crooked to fit properly for him to feel fully settled, content, happy.

But.

But --

Shouto feels loved.

(And right now, that’s all that he needs.)

[powerovernothing]

Of your three boys, Lucian, Martian and Korbin, who is the best at monopoly? (if they played monopoly) Who tries to cheat? Who gets upset when they loose?

Hehehe, oh my goodness. Leave it to my dearest Mistress Sis to not only send me the absolute best types of messages with the very best questions based around my incredibly silly Assassin like, and Priestly children, but to turn around and send me one that is just so adorable and made me giggle like the utter fool I am when I first read it in my askbox? Well now, how could I not do everything with my power to put together the best and perfectly fitting answer to all your precious wondering?

I’m just a bit ashamed that it took so long to get around to answering this properly, though! Mostly because, early on when I was putting together what I wanted to reply with, I knew I wanted to include several things, and one of those things was a piece of a story of mine that actually wasn’t edited at that moment! So, I had to set a few things aside, put the answer on hold, and do what I could to make sure the story turned out well, and good enough for you to look oover when I finally got around to posting this on my blog!Well, now it has, and not only that, but I have several more amusing things to speak of in regards to three foolish boys! And what would happen when, not if, they played Monopoly, and what becomes of their little games when they get too involved in brotherly antics! Check out everything below, and thank you so much for sending me lovely questions about Korbin and his brothers! You know I always have and will forever dearly appreciate it!

Let’s dive in!

(*~*Tons of lengthy discussions, snippets, and screenshots based around the boys in the Modern Verse behind the cut!*~*)

Honestly, it should go without saying that anything that the boys end up doing together, no matter if it’s a simple board game, or a round of snowball fights in the late of night, it is most certainly going to turn from being innocent and simple, to over the top, dramatic, and super childish. Korbin and his siblings are incredibly competitive, and they always are trying to find ways to outdo the other in some way.

Without a doubt, Korbin and Lucien are the very worst offenders for this happening, but you would be surprised to find out Martin is just honestly as bad!

Perhaps that is what happens when you live with Assassins for so long, or perhaps its just because Lucien brings out that side of you. Whatever the case may be, anything can go from a fun little game, to a full on war without hardly much effort. Case in point? When the boys were trying to pass the time during a storm and were playing Uno together:

Korbin: [pleading] “Brother please, you cannot do this to me!”

Lucien: “Forgive me, my Silencer, but I must. It is as fate has foretold.”

Martin: [aghast] “How could you, Lachance, and to Korbin of all people?! I would never have thought you to be capable of such heartless betrayal!”

Lucien: “You should know by now, Septim, just what it is I am capable of. But even so, understand I surely have no other choice.”

Lucien:

Lucien: [places a Draw 4 card down upon the table] “Uno.”

(This is an unposted Incorrect Quote, but if you like it, I can totally upload it as a proper post!)

See what I mean? Or perhaps you would rather see what happens when they spend an afternoon playing laser tag together, after Korbin chose to drag both of his older brothers there to help them vent and let off some steam, after they spent far too much time together, and it wound up turning into a screaming match for Divines and Sithis only know what reason!

“Lu-Lucien? …Brother, Iwill… I will have you know if this is your attempt at a joke, it isn’t funny inthe slightest…” He mumbles unsteadily; continuing to shake Lucien’s still andunmoving shoulders with both hands. Lightly at first, but then more desperatelyas he attempts to rouse him in vain. “…You stupid bastard, I know you can feelme shaking you, so wake up! Wake up and say something! Anything! I don’t care what… don’t just lay there!”

As the growing silence engulfshis senses and clouds every thought, Korbin ceases his futile shaking and laysLucien flat upon the ground. Bowing his head – and knowing he would never againfind comfort within the once shared sanguine tinted twilight – he grasps onto partof Lucien’s dress shirt as broken tears slip down his cheeks and feels himselfslowly succumbing under the weight of his grief.

“…Don’t leave me, Lucien… please…” He whispers, wishing for someform of a miracle, for one moment more, for a chance to say all that hadremained unspoken… and yet just as soon as such feelings of frailty comes, theyare quickly replaced with a newfound anger – and an uncontrollable rage.

“Damn you, Septim, you havegone too far!” He cries out to the emptiness, once sorrowful prayers nowconsumed with a need for vengeance, as he dearly hopes his target will somehow hearhim and know what was coming. “No matter our bond, no matter what love weshared, it is over! I will hunt you down for what you have done, for whom you havetaken from me, and I will end your life by my own hand! You will beg for deathbefore the end, but no mercy shall come to you! I will make absolute certain ofthat!”

And in the aftermath of Korbin’sincredibly dramatic threat, Martin responds by carefully stepping out of the darkenedcorner he was listening in from. Standing across from where his chosen siblingsremained close together over the carpet in an extended moment of uncomfortable silence,Martin exchanges a dark glare with Korbin…and then finally loses himself to thecackling laughter he struggled, but ultimately failed, to suppress despite hisbest attempts to stay in character throughout the course of the over the top performance.

“For the love of Akatosh, onlyyou two –” Martin gasps for breath in-between giddy giggling and reachesup to wipe at the amused tears with the back of his hand. “—only you twowould take something as innocent as a simple game of laser tag – which isabsolutely meant for children, no less! – and somehow find the means totransform it into a brutal war reenactment!”

This is apart of one of my newer fan fictions I uploaded to my blog entitled “Bitter Are The War Between Brothers”, which you can find the rest of right behind this little link here if you’d enjoy reading the over the top antics, and incredibly hammy performances!

Outside of those examples there, however, I’m pretty certain even a simple game of Monopoly would end turning into some sort of death battle with these idiots at the wheel. I mean, two of them can’t even get through a simple game of chess without Lucien trying to break the rules at some point, because he absolutely despises how talented Martin is at the game!

Do you think he’s above trying to distract his brother and change the pieces when he isn’t looking? Not hardly! In fact, that’s just the kind of petty thing he would do, because he’s tired of losing, tired of looking like a fool, and just wants to win some game between himself and Septim at some point, dammit! He doesn’t care what he has to do to make it happen!

So, Lucien would absolutely cheat while playing, because Martin is simply too good at money management, and hotel strategies, and would end up in jail more often than the others. Korbin and Martin would absolutely make some sort of jest about him being behind bars – and how it suits him, and reminds them of the many times they had to bail him out in real life – and Lucien would most likely just grumble and then flick one of the die or one of his little houses at their heads.

To which Martin would not approve of, and then give him a longer sentence.

So, Lucien would be the cheater, and Martin would be the one who plays the very best, and has the most money and properties – I mean, after all, he is a Emperor in another non modern life, hehe – and Korbin… he would do his best to try and play fair.

In the beginning.

But then at some point he would get frustrated with Martin as well, and would ‘bail’ his brother out of jail, and then stage a revolt against Martin and try and destroy, or at the very least, blow up all of the hotels he has. Which would include over the top sound effects from Korbin, lots of giggling from all three of them, but sadly would not actually do anything to overthrow Martin and simply cause both Korbin and Lucien to wind up in jail together.

…In short? Martin is the smug victor with tons of money, Lucien is incredibly annoyed and close to flipping the table, and Korbin just really wants to play Go-Fish next. What exactly would that round of Go-Fish – which would ultimately turn into a serious round of Poker – entail, you may ask? Well, if you’ve been paying attention to all my rambling, you should know by now…

When Assassin’s want their revenge upon those who wronged them, it can only end… bloody.

But honestly, I do believe I am simply being just a tad bit silly! All in all, when it comes to the boys and the idea of them interacting and playing games like a normal family… well, I don’t honestly think they know the meaning of the word ‘normal’. I think that got lost somewhere around the time two Hitmen adopted a Sunday School Teacher – at least in the Modern Verse – and brought him into their shadowy little world. Basically, at the end of the day, everything between them will end up being turned into a competition.

Everything.

Even in the Revised Timeline, Lucien and Korbin always try to one up each other when it comes to their Assassination contracts and which has the best murdering tactics to fell their targets, and Martin and Lucien try to show up the other with various forms of magic, potions, or other rule breaking means when they spar to catch the other off guard and land the ‘killing’ blow.

No matter the world, no matter the verse, some things never change, hehe~!

In any case, my dear lovely and darling Mistress Sis, I hope that provided you with a few answers, and maybe a few giggles just as well! I honestly adored seeing you send me this message, and I honestly loved taking the time out to answer it – and answer it properly! I know it took a while, and I know you had been waiting for a bit, but I hope it was worth it in the end! Even despite the length, whoops!

Thank you so very much for sending this my way, as well as the rest of the questions that I will be doing my best to answer over the next little while.

You always pick at my brain in the best ways, and always ask the best things about the boys, and I always appreciate it. Just as I always have, and always will, super appreciate you. Thanks so much again, darling! Tons of hugs and kisses, and lots of love coming your way~! ♥

[lululawrence]

Annual Writing Self-Evaluation 2018

Hiiiiiii! So I was tagged by @sadaveniren, @hereforlou, and @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed who are SO VERY LOVELY! Thank you, darlings! I was wanting to do this anyway, and now I have double the excuse to do it. The two versions they had were slightly different, so I merged them. Hope no one minds. haha

Okay, so that said, as I’m sure most of you know I write more than I probably should, and because of that, this post got long very very very quickly. Ahem. So you’ll find the questions below the cut, thank you for even thinking of reading this!!

ALL FICS MUST HAVE POSTED ON AO3 IN 2018

1. Number of stories (including drabbles) posted to AO3: 25. oh! only 25! that’s great hahaha

2. Word count posted for the year: 313910. that’s 2k MORE than last year and my whole goal for this year was to write more quality rather than quantity fic. hmmmm. lollll

3. List of works published this year (in order of posting):

I warned you. I’m sorry in advance. 

A Dream is a Soft Place to Land

We Made a Start

Tell Me That You've Got Me

I Don't Mean to Frustrate

How Much My Heart Depends

I Will Care For You

Hold Me Tight and Don't Let Go

Can We Talk for a Moment?

I Like Digging Holes

Back to How it Was

Not the Desperate Type

Just Enough (to Feel My Body Come Alive)

What Needs to be Done

I Knew From the First Time

Something Classic

The World Will Open Its Arms

How I Feel Inside

We've Come Too Far

I Just Wanna Give You Love

(That's Just) The Way I Am

This is a Rainbow War

Can I Have Your Attention, Please?

Great Minds (They Think Just the Same)

You're Here, Where You Should Be

Nowhere to Land (as of today! hurray!)

4. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction, BBC Radio 1

5. Pairings:  Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Louis Tomlinson/Nick Grimshaw

6. Story with the most:

Kudos: I Just Wanna Give You Love (757...holy shit when did that happen?)

Bookmarks: I Just Wanna Give You Love (283)

Comments: I Just Wanna Give You Love (8783)

That was kinda boring. I was expecting more diversity, tbh hahaha I also had no idea that was like by far my most popular fic this year? Who knew.

9. Work I’m most proud of (and why):

Back to How it Was. It is my fic baby. Well, my second born fic baby. I spent two years brainstorming and starting the fic and restarting it and reworking it before I finally wrote it from scratch for NaNoWriMo last year and posted it with Big Bang this year. I didn’t think I could win NaNo or that I had the guts to do Big Bang even though I’d always wanted to do it, and I finally did it for this baby, because I knew it was worth it and it so was. It’s my longest fic, what I feel is my best written fic, and the fic I THOUGHT was going to be by far my most popular one, but obvs famous/non famous soulmates won hahaha It even was enough to give me the motivation to actually write a sequel (Nowhere to Land) and just. I love this fic so so so much. Defo what I’m most proud of this year.

10. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

You know, my biggest focus this year was not so much writing less, but writing with more purpose. Making my writing more quality (I wrote over 40 fics last year and it felt like TOO MUCH even if I learned a lot), and I think that even though I still posted a LOT of fics this year and my word count was actually more than last year, I think it was better quality. I think my writing overall was better and because of that, I’m proud of all of my fics. It’s the first year I’ve really been able to say that, but I don’t think I could choose a least proud fic. I love all of them too much.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

Oh shit. Uhhhh...here! @sadaveniren reminded me I was damn proud of banter I wrote this year, and since I can’t share a Tomlinshaw snippet yet, enjoy this tidbit from I Like Digging Holes.

“Lads,” Liam called. “We’re back in five.”

Zayn turned back to the computer and finished what he was doing as Harry took his mic off mute.

“That was the new tune by our good friend, Niall Horan. Isn’t On the Loose a jam, Zayn?”

“It is. It is. But I think you’re just trying to distract me from what we were discussing during that song, Harry.”

Harry smirked and Zayn’s brows raised higher. His eyes were sparkling and Harry knew this next part was going to be fun. “Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t. Would you like to share with the listeners what we were discussing?”

“Yes, well, our very own Harry Styles was sitting here, proper chair dancing and singing along to Niall’s latest single, all while peeling an orange.”

“It is a delicious orange, in case you were wondering,” Harry said, making sure everyone could tell by the way he was speaking that he had a segment in his mouth as he spoke.

“You’re disgusting,” Zayn said. He couldn’t keep the corner of his mouth from raising a little, though, so Harry knew he was mostly joking. “I swear I’m going to take your phone and start posting how you eat to your precious Insta story myself. Anyway, would you like to tell everyone where exactly you came upon this orange?”

“Of course, Zaynie. I came upon this lovely orange in the lift.”

Zayn was hardly containing his laughter now, but he did his best to remain serious. Harry knew the comments on their video this morning would be amusing to say the least. They always loved it when Harry and Zayn bickered a bit.

“Harryyyyy,” Zayn drew out, finally succumbing to his giggles. “Who finds an orange in the lift and thinks, ‘Wow, that looks delicious. I think I’ll take it?’”

“Well, obviously I do,” Harry said, also giggling. “It’s not like it was just rolling around! It was in a box!”

“A box almost makes it worse,” Zayn said, getting more and more animated as their conversation continued. “Someone may be looking for their missing orange now!”

“I don’t think so,” Harry said. “Besides. If they’re smart they’re listening to our show now and have found where their orange has gone.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Harry hummed as he sent a cheeky wink Zayn’s way and continued eating his orange.

12. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

Oh gosh. There have been several that made me cry this year, they were so lovely. Some I save in my emails for when I have a bad day. I don’t know that I have any one single favorite, but I did have one the other day that told me they appreciated how I end my fics with them being resolved but still somewhat open ended therefore allowing the reader to choose the future of the characters. That meant a lot to me because there’s a lot of fics I write where the only comments are people begging for more (which is totally fine! I know I write short fics that often are just a snippet in time for those characters and leaves people wanting more hehe), but often the point of those fics is to leave so much in the air. I like the possibilities swirling and people wondering and coming up with their own ideas, and this particular commenter said they appreciated that. that meant the world to me! I was glad they liked that since it’s something I feel strong about but that often frustrates people hehe

13. A time when writing was really, really hard:

oh gosh okay listen. writing this year was my safe haven and most of the fics flowed from me in a most magical way. i think it was because i was writing fics i wanted to write? if that makes sense? but there were three fics that were REALLY hard for me. i learned a lot from all three, but the hardest i think was my mirrors fic, Just Enough (to Feel My Body Come Alive). I had an incredibly specific vision and feel for this fic and I felt like I fell so so so short from what I was trying to do. Every word was a struggle because I wanted to be sure it was right, and in the end I just didn’t have the time to really wrangle with the words how I wanted to. I got the fic done by the deadline and I was proud of what I wrote, but I just. I really truly wrestled with those words. I hope the emotion present in the fic, the settings created, and the growth of the characters as well as the narrative style I presented in the mixed POVs were effective for the readers! I put a lot of myself into that fic emotionally.

14. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

I think the Grimmy in Can I Have Your Attention, Please? surprised me. I wanted him to be very very true to the Grimmy we get on the radio and his personality shown there, and I think I got it, but it came much easier than I really thought it would. He was so endearing to me and silly and honestly a bit of a disaster and every time I finished writing him, I would go and yell in one of my chats because I just was amazed and how alive he came to be on the page. I hope others felt that way if they read it too. I really loved writing him because of how much he surprised me every time I got to write him.

15. How did you grow as a writer this year:

 Well. If you’d asked me this a week ago I would have told you in confidence. I became incredibly confident in my ability to write a fairly decent fic on pretty much anything. I feel like I can twist pretty much any prompt (within a few minor constraints) and do it well. But then this past week happened and I’m not sure confidence is where I grew. hahahaha I still am incredibly unsure of myself and scared when I post things. 

One way I do definitely think I grew though is I tried different writing styles and structures. Last year I explored with tropes a lot, and I still did that this year, but I found ways to kind of make them different from what I’d done before. I really liked that.

16. How do you hope to grow next year:

Well. Last year I wanted to write more in general. This year I wanted to write more quality fics. Next year I think I want to just focus more on writing when I’m inspired. I want to try to cut down on deadlines a bit and focus more on fics that I want to write when I want to write them. I got a taste for that a little bit this year and I have to say I’m kind of addicted and would like to see that trend continue. So maybe just...ease up on writing a little bit, allow myself to read more again, and write what inspires me.

17. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Oh gosh uhmmmmm. Well honestly Grimmy influenced me a lot this year. Grimmy and Greg and Scott and Chris all from Radio 1 found their ways into a lot of my fics this year as characters themselves or finding bits of themselves represented in our boys within the fics. Listening to them all more this year helped me really up my banter game so I was able to write awesome bits like the snippet I shared above I think. But I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the fic community here. I don’t even know that I can name everyone, but I was defo supported by some incredible people including @wait4ever, @londonfoginacup, @becomeawendybird, @briannamarguerite, @catfishau, @suddenclarityharry, and so so so many more. I’m so sorry I’m not naming all of you, because seriously without any of the people who have been so kind to me I just. Writing is hard and scary and the next question is gonna be where I show part of why it’s so hard and scary, but it’s because of the kindness I have found in this fandom that I feel like I can keep going.

18. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

*nervous laughter* yeah. I mean, there’s always parts of real life in fic, isn’t there? I find myself infusing bits of myself into my characters every time I write, but the fic that scared me the most and had me most worried it was total trash before posting it was actually Nowhere to Land. I couldn’t figure out why until today when I realized it was because so so so many of Harry’s worries and feelings about writing the article and his growth in the fic is very much everything I struggle with personally. I didn’t remember putting so much of myself into him, so I felt like posting him was like putting myself as a person out there for people to devour and either love or hate. Be kind or cruel about. And that’s fucking scary. So...yeah. Yeah real life always shows up, but Harry in that fic was kinda really me and that’s. A lot.

19. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Keep going. You can do so much more than you think you can. Build a support crew. It doesn’t matter if they’re other writers or cheerleaders or betas or whatever, but build a community specifically for your fic. They’ll help keep you going when you’re feeling stuck and unsure and they’ll save you. Find your people. And always use a beta, no matter how scary that seems. They’ll save you. haha

20. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

Oh gosh yes. I mean, I’m posting my first hybrid fic and a hannah montana au and a sweet home alabama au and my very first futuristic fantasy epic adventure type au and all sorts of really fun things next year so i’m super crazy excited for the fic projects i’ve got going on just in the first several months of 2019. It’s gonna be an amazing year!

21. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

i love so many of you and i have no idea who has done this SO i’m just gonna go and tag some people, including those mentioned above!, and hope for the best! @greenfeelings, @mediawhorefics, @2tiedships2, @suddenclarityharry, @suspendrs, @shyshyserious, @marastarfar, @indiaalphawhiskey and any writer reading this who wants to do it!!!

[sordess]

7 WIPs Meme

I was tagged by @aliatori to share some WIP snippets. Much to my surprise, I have far more WIPs than I thought, but not quite 7.

1. Suddenly, Ardyn/Ravus content out of left field

Ardyn sighed as he set his glass down, Ravus still frowning at him. He really should hold him at a greater length, especially given the inevitable steps in the empire’s (and his) plans, but the wine had already began to work its magic—a benefit of subsisting on a constantly empty stomach. “Did you miss my company that much?”

Ravus held his gaze for a beat, defiant, then dropped his eyes to the bottle. “It’s you or a cadre of MTs for company,” he said flatly as he poured himself a small amount, just a sip, really.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ then.”

2. Can’t think of a better way to meet your SO than pulling an arrow out of his chest

Before he can ease the arrow out, the stranger grabs Ardyn’s bicep with his right hand, somehow having regained a shred of lucidity. Ardyn freezes at the strength and intensity of the stranger’s hot grasp on his arm and looks to find his amber, yet slightly unfocused, gaze on him. It’s not as if Ardyn has been deprived of another human’s touch entirely—his attendants and his brother being the sole sources of such stimulation—but he’s never been touched in such a way, with such a palpable need behind it. Ardyn finds his throat dry and tight but he forces himself to swallow.

“I need to pull it out,” he says, fighting with every bit of strength he has to keep his voice level. “Can you bear with me just a bit longer?” Ardyn has no idea if the stranger can understand him, let alone process what is happening to him, but he holds the stranger’s unfocused gaze. Ardyn does his best to radiate warmth and confidence, to gain his understandably cagey patient’s trust.

The stranger releases Ardyn’s arm as suddenly as he grabbed it. He squeezes his eyes shut and lays his head back against the rock. Ardyn can feel him try to relax his body underneath his touch, though there is an undeniably taut line of unease running through him.

“The others won’t be so bad,” Ardyn finds himself saying.

“Have you ever been hit by an arrow?” the stranger asks through gritted teeth, speech thickly accented but perfectly comprehensible.

Ardyn gapes slightly at the stranger’s words, warmth creeping over his face as he thinks of the inane things he was babbling just minutes ago to try and soothe the injured man. He wants to ask him so many questions—was he involved in the battle (yes)? Did he see anyone fitting Somnus’ description (likely)? Were he and his fellow fighters trying to kill him (most certainly)? But instead, Ardyn just stares wide-eyed at the behemoth beneath him and manages a simple “no.”

The stranger snorts in laughter. It’s one of the most undignified yet unbridled sounds Ardyn thinks he’s ever heard in his life. “They’re all bad.”

3. I still write Gladnis content... sometimes...

Ignis hopped/hobbled around the bend to the top of the rock with as much dignity as he could muster, which was really quite a lot. His vision seemed to blur and spin as he finally reached the top, and his balance faltered momentarily. Ignis was greeted by the sight of Noctis and Prompto in their fold-up camping chairs, already fiddling with their phones, as Gladio pounded the tent spikes into the sheer rock. Spitefully, Ignis would note. He was pounding the spikes in rather spitefully.

"Took ya long enough, Specs. What's for dinner?" Noctis didn't even bother to look up.

Ignis managed his nicest smile, his glasses catching the light from the campfire rendering his expression unreadable. He took another hop into the campsite, raised his chin as haughtily as he could, the light from the fire now catching the beads of sweat on his skin, giving him a manic look. He parted his lips to respond with “a lovely carpaccio using some of that trout you caught this morning,” but found the stars that appeared in his line of sight quite pretty and distracting instead.

"I'm afraid dinner is canceled tonight."

Noctis, Prompto, and even Gladio the gorilla managed to look up just as Ignis collapsed face first in a heap, dignity and his glasses snapping cruelly on the cold, unforgiving rock.

4. Just kidding, Ardyn/Big G is my true love

Though Ardyn had watched Gilgamesh loose countless arrows in the past, he demonstrated the proper form for Ardyn once more. Gilgamesh racked an arrow and, with seemingly little effort, drew it completely back and held it steady, explaining the finer points of his posture. Though Ardyn nodded at the explanation, Gilgamesh’s words fell on deaf ears, Ardyn’s eyes trailing over Gilgamesh’s taut biceps and down his back, wishing he could see the defined muscles of his back and shoulders, hidden by his tunic.

“Are you—are you even listening?” Gilgamesh asked, annoyed, eyeing Ardyn over his shoulder.

“I’m hanging on every word, I promise,” Ardyn replied, lips quirked into a smile.

5. After the first Scourge-sucking

“Stay,” he said with an urgency he didn’t know he had. “Don’t go. Please.” It made his insides churn at how pathetic he sounded, but he pleaded with Gilgamesh nonetheless.

Gilgamesh looked down at him, his expression a mix of pity and concern. All at once it felt like Gilgamesh was his last line to humanity, to goodness—if he walked away, the line would snap and Ardyn would be left to the demons crawling inside.

“Please.” Ardyn pushed himself up and out of the water, bracing himself on the sides of the tub, in his flurry his own nakedness forgotten. Every inch of him dripping and exposed, Ardyn felt that he really would cry if Gilgamesh rejected him now. He took a step toward Gilgamesh, the water lapping around knees, suddenly overcome with the need to touch him, to be held by him.

His head was swimming with doubt and shame, but nothing could stop Ardyn from taking another step closer. And then, everything shattered. Fat, hot tears bubbled over and dripped down Ardyn’s cheeks, his jaw quivered and he knew he’d lost it. A second later the flow of tears was unstoppable. Ardyn covered his face with his hands, he just wanted to sink back down into the water and disappear.

But Gilgamesh grabbed him before he could turn in on himself and held Ardyn upright, pulling him into a crushing embrace. It didn’t matter that Ardyn was sopping wet, that he was a crumbling, emotional mess, Gilgamesh held him tightly and resolutely, as the sobs wracked Ardyn’s body. In time Ardyn wrapped his arms around Gilgamesh’s back and buried his face into his neck.

6. Domestic shenanigans aka oops my hand slipped

Gilgamesh rode back around and slowed his gelding as he came back to Ardyn’s side, his grin infectious at that point.

“I don’t imagine you all sleep amongst the sheep?” Ardyn asked, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

“Oh, well some of the men have been known to lie with a sheep now and then,” Gilgamesh chuckled, “but most of us keep to the yurts.”

Ardyn stood up in the saddle, craning his neck to try and get sight of what could possibly be called a village or yurt, but saw nothing.

“Ah, you can’t see them from here,” Gilgamesh explained with a smile.

“Oh,” Ardyn said, lowering himself back into the saddle. “I thought you said this was home.”

“Wherever my people are is home,” Gilgamesh replied simply. “Come, there’s much to be done.”

Gilgamesh urged his horse on and Ardyn followed suit.

“Much to be done? Gilgamesh, what do you mean? Why did we come here?”

Gilgamesh turned back, his expression mocking innocence, like a child caught in the act of something naughty and trying to avoid punishment. “It’s shearing season.”

“I—What? We came here to shear sheep? All of these sheep?”

Gilgamesh blinked. “Yes. You’ll like it, trust me.”

Tagging @porcelainlovebug if you want to share!

[kuraiamore]

WIP List Game

tagged by @shiranuigenma​ ; in truth, I haven’t actively been working on any of my wips for over a month now, though I have been thinking that it’s about high time to get back into them, so this has come at a great time! All my love and thanks for the tag<3

(wip list + commentary + small snippets under the cut. sorted by fandom.)

(for the game, tagging: @first-quarter-of-the-moon @bombushuntii @mouseymightymarvellous @purple-possibilities and anyone with some wips they’d like to share :D )

GINTAMA WIPS

fly the hurricane a TakaZura fic, originally started for week 3 of the gintama fic fest. i can’t quite figure out its ending scene though, and since i can’t figure out its ending scene, i dont reeeeally know where it’s going, so it’s just kinda been.... sitting there...

“You should leave Edo.”

Well. He had expected something more along the lines of atonement or meditation—some sentimental journey of self-discovery following the likes of the old philosophical masters whose words Katsura always kept close to heart. There’s an odd curl of satisfaction in knowing his old comrade and once enemy could still be as pragmatically cruel as ever.

“And what will you do?” he asks. “Your head still has the same price on it as mine.”

of possessions and perversions, ch.3 not abandoned, don’t worry! working out the action + dialogue to get everyone where i want them to be is just taking a little longer than expected, sigh.

Zura. Gold eyes. Kiss. The tenma, body, quest—

He jerks upright, ripping the blanket off his body and throwing his head to the side hard enough for his neck to make a small crick.

Rumpled sheets. Tossed pillow. Empty futon.

He’s out the door and staring at Shinpachi and Kagura’s surprised faces before he even registers moving.

“Oi! Where’s Zura?!”

a little something to warm the heart something i started writing to work through my feelings surrounding Gintoki, Katsura and Ikumatsu during the Homeless arc. ironically made my feelings even more muddled, lol.

When Katsura says nothing, Gintoki begins to ramble.

“Think about it. Even your shitty tastes won't ruin Ikumatsu’s business. You could settle. Hell, get hitched, have kids, I'll be the crazy uncle. We'll have shitty dinners once a month plus New Years, Christmas, birthdays, Valentine's day, and special occasions. You can never have too much ramen, it's like a national treasure, eat it every season.”

It's Katsura’s turn to snort.

“You just want free food don't you?”

hearts don’t have to be broken to hurt (and sometimes healing hurts more than the break) a HijiZura fic that I work on in between other smaller wips and possessions whenever the urge strikes. will i ever finish the first chapter? i am going to damn well try.

There’s not a flutter of wind in the air; it’s a perfect, still night.

In the stillness, he hears the soft pad of footsteps heading in his direction long before the shadows meld into the shape of a man, walking across the bamboo porch with sure, even steps.

A pair of surprised faces meet, before a soft smile crinkles the corner of hazel brown eyes.

NARUTO WIPS

chatoyance an InoSaku modern AU that was inspired by a story my friend told of meeting a French heiress to a jewellery company whilst on her travels. couldn’t help myself - Ino just demanded to be a Franco-Japanese heiress who goes on exchange to Tokyo and finds and falls in love with the most beautiful cherry blossom ever.

They talk mostly in Japanese, scatterings of French and English when some things just don’t translate. Ino switches between languages the same way she switches outfits: furiously, carelessly, and with the kind of unapologetic confidence Sakura thought only ladies in Hollywood movies possessed.

that MadaKaka one I never came up with a title for, part 3 you know that MadaKaka fic I wrote waaayyy back when where Madara freaks out over Kakashi’s forearms? yeah, that one. i’ve been trying to write the next part of that for... like 8 months now? 

“It's an Uchiha thing, right?”

A second of stupified silence.

“What?” he asks, eloquently, when he realises that Kakashi is waiting for a response.

“The touching thing. You Uchihas like to touch.”

two more MadaKaka smut oneshots (hopefully <1k) that I started and would like to finish just so I can move them into the ‘completed’ folder

Madara is tight, so tight Kakashi amuses himself with the thought of being the Uchiha’s first, though that could hardly be the case with the way Madara sinks down without pause or hesitation, hair thrown back and throat bared.

&

It’s ironic, really, that only when Kakashi is silenced is he willing to make noise.

Fingers trail down a cotton-covered jaw, sweeping down neck and over collarbone to rest on shoulders. Kakashi tilts his head back at the touch, humming slightly.

“Are you sure?”

THE HOBBIT//LOTR

just another post-BOTFA barduil fic okay, so I haven’t actually started writing this yet, but it’s been on my mind ever since falling back into the lotr fandom (if you’re wondering why i’ve been neglecting my own fics for the past month, that is why) and turning into thranduil trash. i just want a proper slow burn romance where Thranduil feels in-character to me, cause as much as I enjoy fandom!Thranduil’s fabulousness and sexy dom attitude, I think there’s a midway point between book!Thranduil and movie!Thranduil where the complexities of his character and history would really shine, and I really want to find and explore it. also woodelf culture and generally exploring inter-elf culture and elf-man-dwarf politics! i currently have 1.5k of scene outlines and notes and much excite :D

aaand that’s probably the wip list for the year, knowing my slow writing pace! hopefully i’ll manage to get some, if not most of them complete, cause i have a backlog of other scattered wips and fic ideas i would love to see come to life. *prays fervently to the writing gods and goddesses*

[nomanaliseo]

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[sage-nebula]

If you don't mind I would love to hear about the dark idea you had for Lillie and Alan.

Oh man, okay. Well, buckle up, because this will take some explaining.

So, as I said in those tags, this is in reference to my fic To Devour the Sun, which is an Alola AU that was started before the games released and the anime premiered. As a result, I had to come up with my own characterization for the Alola characters, based on what we had seen of them from official art and little tidbits about their personalities and backgrounds. This is most apparent with both Lusamine and Gladion (especially Gladion; not only did I assume he’d get along fine with Team Skull, but I made him a little spitfire to boot), but it would have become apparent with Lillie, who in her official art appears very closed off and is frowning. For the purposes of this fic, Lillie is characterized much as she is in my write-up of how I would have written the Gen VII games, which is to say that she is quite closed off, quite cold, very intelligent and resourceful (and can be a bit impatient with others who aren’t on her level), and is faithfully helping Lusamine along with her plans, albeit with a lot of despair over it. She’s doing what she’s doing because she feels she has no other choice. She doesn’t have hope that things could be different, and she and Gladion are currently in the midst of a two year long fight because he ran away from home in order to try and make a difference, when she didn’t believe that was possible and felt the right thing to do was to stay.

So with all of this being said, the Lillie in this fic is quite different from the Lillie we see in canon, and though she hasn’t been introduced in the fic proper yet (she’d be getting her introduction in the next chapter, when Manon, Clemont, and Bonnie to go the school), the plot necessitates that she keep the characterization I originally conceived for her. Like, it could be argued that since she hasn’t been introduced yet I could still go with her canon characterization (whereas it is too late for Lusamine, and especially too late for Gladion given his numerous appearances), but the plot really would not work if she had her canon characterization. I can tweak it some, but not enough to make her canon compliant. It sucks, but it is what it is. It’s my punishment for starting a fic before the canon released.

As a final note, also because this fic was started before the games released (and because the plot hinges on it, et cetera), the Aether family are Ultra Beasts in this fic. Lusamine is UB-02 Beauty, Lillie is UB-01, and Gladion is UB-04 Blade (i.e. kartana). And it’s important to note that, because it comes into play with this idea.

The idea is:

Lillie and Alan encounter each other once before the actual idea takes place. I don’t want to spoil too much about it, but essentially, at the end of chapter five Alan and Lizardon both had a very, very bad time battling a giant chimera deep within the basement of Aether Paradise (in an arena). It’s enough so that the cliffhanger I left that fic off on makes it look like Alan died (he certainly thinks he’s going to, given what happened to him, but he managed to save Lizardon, so he’s okay with it). In honesty, he would and should have died, but Lusamine saw the bond between him and Lizardon, and realized that they could be suitable candidates for sacrifice as per her plan. So she has Aether Foundation employees use medicinal alchemy (far more advanced than what this dimension should have as far as medical science goes) to save his life so that she can run him and Lizardon through tests to see if they are indeed the sacrifices she needs (or at least one pair of sacrifices—she needs three pairs).

Well, this being a story, they are, so she keeps them for a while. At some point during their unwilling stay, Lillie goes to Aether Paradise for her own reasons. While she’s going through, she comes across Alan. She remembers Manon telling her about Alan (she recognizes him from the description she was given), and she decides to help him escape. However, due to a series of circumstances that I won’t go into right now (because it would be #spoilers and I still want to write this fic someday), it doesn’t end up working. Lillie gets out of there, but Alan is trapped behind, wherein the bad times continue. (It’s a series of bad times. The little snippets I’ve written are very tame in comparison to what’s in store for him and Lizardon both, but you can still see that Lusamine is not at all nice to him. And trust me, Wicke and Faba aren’t either.)

Some time long after that, when things are revealed and other things happen, there’s some big climactic battle. I haven’t figured out the entirety of how it happens yet, but I do know that obviously Alan and Lizardon are involved, and Lillie is there as well. For the first time in years she has come to have at least a sliver of hope that things could, perhaps, be different—that maybe her mother’s plan to reduce this dimension to an empty husk for the sake of Ultra Space can be stopped. And she feels, due to all the circumstances and things that have happened, that Alan and Lizardon are perhaps the best bet to making that happen, that if anyone can defeat her mother (and more importantly, her mother’s creations), they can. But the thing is, well …

Here’s the thing:

It’s my belief that pokémon do not use 100% of their power in battle—that pokémon naturally restrain themselves to a degree in battles so that their attacks aren’t lethal. It’s the only explanation, isn’t it? We know that a charizard’s flames are hot enough to melt boulders, and that ‘Zard X has blue flames, which are the hottest flames in existence, and can potentially rival the sun in heat. Yet you can have a charizard battle a caterpie, and while the caterpie will faint in short order, it won’t die. Even if it’s hit by flames, it won’t die. And I have to believe this is because pokémon, like the dragons in the Dreamworks Dragons franchise, can control the strength of their attacks. Just like how Toothless didn’t kill that terrible terror when he shot fire into its mouth in the first movie (but then later killed the Red Death by doing the same, meaning he was intentionally holding back when he shot fire into the mouth of the terrible terror), pokémon can make it so that their attacks aren’t lethal. It does’t mean they’re not trying their best when they battle, because of course they are, but it does mean there’s a certain degree of restraint involved. They can regulate their attacks, and they do so, at least in battles against other trained pokémon (so in the wild, it may very well be that there are no holds barred; anything goes in fights between wild pokémon).

When it comes to mega evolution, part of this restraint is given to the trainer. Not just anyone can mega evolve their pokémon; outside of legendary pokémon, who can mega evolve without a trainer nearby (hi, Rayquaza), regular pokémon need an incredibly strong, nigh telepathic bond with a trainer in order to be able to mega evolve. The link that is established between human and pokémon when mega evolution occurs ties their souls and strength together; the restraint that the pokémon normally places on themselves when battling is shared with the trainer, so that the trainer’s feelings can influence the pokémon, and vice versa. It’s a shared spirit, in other words. The pokémon mega evolves because of the bond they have with their trainer, and in turn the trainer fights with their pokémon in a sense, their emotions melding with their pokémon partner’s in order to create a whole new experience.

I bring all of this up because by the time the final battle occurs, Alan and Lizardon have been through … a lot. Even setting aside all the testing, due to the events at the end of chapter five, Alan firmly believes that he should have died, that it’s unnatural and wrong that he didn’t, and that … that alone has messed him up. Everything else Lusamine did to him (and honestly, this is a woman who sees humans as the lowest life form, and who commissioned Faba to create the chimeras and has allowed him to do whatever with them, so the tests she ran Alan and Lizardon through are … pretty inhumane) just made it worse. Nonetheless, he’s still Alan, he still has limits …

… but that’s where Lillie comes in.

As I mentioned before, Lillie has spent the last few years feeling despaired over everything, because she doesn’t want this dimension to be destroyed (it’s the only home she has ever known), but she hasn’t had hope that anyone could stop her mother. Now she feels like maybe there’s a chance, but it’s a slim one. That giant chimera is still in existence and still on the field, and there are all the other chimeras as well. In addition, Lusamine has Ultra Beast auras protecting them, and as if all of that wasn’t enough … well, remember that Lusamine is actually UB-02 Beauty, and according to the official SM website:

So even if others try to battle her, good fucking luck; their pokémon lose the will to fight her, once she employs her own ability. (Which, yes, was sadly not put into the game itself, just—Game Freak, why do you live to disappoint? Oh well, if they won’t take advantage of this, I will. Just see if I don’t.) There is still a chance she can be stopped, but it’s extremely slim. The situation doesn’t look good, and Lillie feels that the longer the battle draws out, the slimmer their chance at victory (a chance which is perhaps granted by Lusamine trying to employ that effect on Lizardon, and it seems as if it’s almost working … only for it to ultimately fail, because Lizardon’s bond with Alan—platonic soulmates that they are—is just that strong) becomes.

But while Lusamine may have a special ability … she’s not the only one.

Lillie is, in actuality, UB-01. UB-01, as we know, has the ability to lower people’s inhibitions through physical contact. Lillie doesn’t usually employ this; she doesn’t want to control others, and in truth has doubts about how much she can given that she has felt, for years now, like she is in a minecart going along a predetermined track with no power over how far or fast it goes. But the situation is desperate right now, and Alan has been through a lot. She knows this, even if she doesn’t know all the exact details. She knows what her mother is like. She knows what the tests are like. She doesn’t need the specifics to know how much torment both Alan and Lizardon underwent as her mother’s test subjects.

But that makes her think that … maybe there’s a chance.

So in this idea—that, again, I likely won’t use, for a few reasons—Lillie … takes advantage of that, and her own ability. She has an idea of how strong Lizardon is, and knows that a pokémon’s power is amplified post-mega evolution. She knows about the restraint that trainers and pokémon employ when battling. She knows that if Alan and Lizardon are strong when employing that legal restraint (and they are), that if that restraint wasn’t there—if they didn’t adhere to any limitations …

In the midst of everything, she takes him by the hand. She focuses on the neurological altering ability she was born with as she holds his hand in both her own, and looks him in the eye, and talks to him. He has been through so much. Even before coming to Alola—Lillie doesn’t know these details, but this Alolan “vacation” (it was supposed to be a vacation) occurred only six months after the Flare crisis. Six months ago was the Flare crisis, and two years before that he was in Lysandre’s service, at the lowest point in his life. All of that, plus everything Lusamine did, plus a little urging and, honestly, toxic influence from Lillie to take those metaphorical gloves off and fight with everything they have, no restraint … 

It’s just … a little push. A little push on someone who, after having been through so much, was honestly already on the edge, but was holding himself back through simple virtue of his own honor.

(“But haven’t you always wondered what would happen if neither of you did hold back? What you could accomplish? She isn’t holding anything back. She never has. Even now, everyone here—they could die, because she isn’t sparing them any mercy. That giant chimera can and will kill them. Everyone—your family, my brother, Ash and the rest of our classmates, they’ll all die because there isn’t enough strength here to prevent it, except … if unrestrained, and fully tapped into … what you and Lizardon are able to do … the strength you have …”

“… The strength to protect …”

“Yes, exactly.”)

If Alan, in that mindset—that unstable, unrestrained mindset—used mega evolution just then … if he said, respond to my heart while activating his Key Stone … if Lizardon’s mega evolution had so much fury backing it, fury that came from both of them … the results would be devastating, probably, and that’s where Gladion’s horror would come in (and not just his, I’m sure, but still), because, “Lillie, the bastard is strong enough without you pushing him to this point, what the hell have you done?!” 

All of that said, no one would die and I’m sure it would all work out in the end, but … I feel like releasing restraint like that would be cause enough for someone to lose their Trainer’s License, although in this case it could probably be argued that it was some form of psychological break (not to mention Lillie would admit to what she did), therefore he could probably keep his if he went through something like six months dedicated therapy (which after all this, he could probably use). All the same, I doubt I’m going to use this idea because I have other ideas in mind for the climax, but it’s interesting to think about nonetheless, because … well, employing restraint, Alan and Lizardon are strong enough as it is. But can you imagine … what would happen … if they stopped holding back? 

I can, and I usually imagine it to this music. 

[forever-dreaming-cullen]

First Lines

Again, sorry for taking so long to do these. I was tagged by the lovely and just wedded @princessvicky01 — congratulations! — to copy the opening lines of my last ten fics, look for patterns, and then tag 10 of my favorite authors. Thank you so much for thinking of me!

Ok, counting back from the latest: Some are NSFW, so be aware of that. :)

White Noise - Dark!Cullen smut where he uses sex to cope with his issues.

Finally, it’s night time, and he can shed his armor and the façade of the controlled and ever-proper Commander.  He undresses with economical movements and slips a short silk robe over his naked body. The fabric sighs across his skin, making him purr. It’s  a welcome change from the rough fabrics and leathers he usually wears.  He belts it loosely around his slim waist and crosses to his nightstand.

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme - Multi-chaptered Cullen romance featuring an original non-inquisitor character

The Commander’s tent was slightly larger than the other tents in the army’s camp and set off a little from the rows of those housing the troops. Healer Eala Arnal brushed her clammy hands along the sides of her skirts as she walked up to the tent’s entrance.

In the Heat of Summer - Second person narrative written for Cullen Appreciation Week 2017 featuring a sparring shirtless Cullen and an ambiguous female inquisitor

The summer sun high in the sky greets you as you exit the Great Hall, trying to escape the endless prattle and demands of the simpering nobles your position forces you to deal with. As the cool breeze fluttering through the tree branches ghosts over your hot skin, you sigh in relief, happy to be free of the stifling air inside the keep.

One Night in Skyhold - Cullen smut written for DA Kink Meme wherein our Commander has enough of waiting for his Inquisitor and takes what he wants from her.

It’s late. He should be sleeping; that’s what he keeps telling himself, but his legs won’t carry him back to his tower and his lonely bed.   Instead, he stands in front of the door to the Inquisitor’s private chambers, debating with himself about whether he should go up.

The Girl Can’t Help It - Written in response to a comment to an earlier story, this one-shot features the protagonist of Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme, and is the genesis for it.

Eala hurried along the battlements, the chill evening wind lifting her hair from her shoulders. If she didn’t hurry, she would be late, and even though he wouldn’t scold her for it, she would feel bad about making him wait for her. She remembered the first time she had attended him as if it were yesterday. She had been so intimidated by his very presence that she could do little but respond to him in squeaked “yes, Sers” and no, Sers.”

One Good Turn Deserves Another (Or Cullen Repays the Inquisitor) - Written based on a couple of comments on another fic, this is just Cullen smut wherein Cullen does what he’s apparently really good at, based on the fact that it’s its own tag on AO3!

He looked at Evelyn standing before him, that soft smile on her face that made him want to kiss her until they both passed out from lack of air.

Oakmoss and Elderflower - A fic based on a headcanon related to a snippet of multi-player dialog about how Cullen smells.

Perrine watched her Commander as he shifted in his seat for the tenth time in as many minutes.  He was still paying attention to the discussion around the War Table, but she could tell he was struggling. The lines on his forehead and between his eyebrows were scored more deeply than usual, and purple shadows bloomed like bruises beneath his honey-colored eyes.

Oil and Fantasy - Cullen smut featuring the Commander and his hand

Cullen sighed as he stretched out naked on his bed. His day was done, he’d had his bath, and his doors were locked. Perhaps he should just go to sleep; his limbs were heavy as were his eyelids. He ran a hand over his face, his stubble rasping against his palm. It had been a long day, full of meetings, reports, and training recruits that seemed to get younger and more clueless every day. He rolled his shoulders, listening to them pop and crackle in the silence of his loft. Maker, he was exhausted.

Learning to Please Him - Oh, Maker, more Cullen smut! The Inquisitor pleasures her Commander with her mouth,

Evelyn sits on her bed, sketchbook in hand, doodling while she waits for Cullen to arrive. She has already bathed and washed her hair, which she has gathered at her nape in a loose queue, her curls tumbling down her back, except for the few ringlets that have escaped capture and are dangling around her face.

Treading the Path of Nightmares - Features angsty Knight-Captain Cullen exercising out his demons. Look, it’s not smut!

He’s curled up in a ball of misery in one corner of a glowing blue cage, alone now. How many days has it been since the last of his friends were taken? Two? Five? Ten? He can’t count them anymore.

Notes: Apparently I write a lot of Cullen smut, first of all. And I tend to start in the characters’ heads and describing the setting.

As for tagging, I tag @ekoorb03,  @x-elfled-x, @kaoruyogi, @kauriart, @kagetsukai, @fereldenpeach, @alleiradayne @melaena @slothquisitor and @novamm66

As always , no pressure, and if you don’t have time or don’t want to, you don’t need to do this.

[netleafinfosoft]

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Magic: The Gathering Story - Where to Go from Here

As has been spoken of widely by the community, Magic story is at an interesting crossroads. There have been highs with Children of the Nameless and lows with War of the Spark: Forsaken and a wide breadth in between, with the lowest point being the lack of any published story for Theros Beyond Death other than the brief snippet found on the main MTG website. This all comes as Magic: The Gathering is seeing a surge in popularity, due in large part to the success of Arena, which is all evident in each quarterly report Hasbro has released over the last year.

Magic’s story is a huge draw, and here are some thoughts on what could be done to launch a reinvigorated wave into Magic. In brief, there should be two aspects: free web-fiction in the form of short stories that would be published on the Magic: The Gathering website and novels / novellas published through 3rd-party publishers such as Penguin Random House or Tor Books.

Short Stories on the main MTG website

Some of the most memorable Magic story has happened in this digital form and was the go-to method for informing the public for several years. There was an outcry when it appeared that the majority of the War of the Spark story would be told as a novel, and again when none of the story for Throne of Eldraine would be available in this short story format. However, this move made some financial sense as Wizards contracted these stories out to various authors, a trend that had started back up with the story of the Dominaria set in 2018.

Prior to Dominaria, members of the story team were tasked with writing these short stories. The issue that started to be known with this method is that the story team also had other responsibilities making the game we love, so this caused somewhat of a work burden for those who picked up the writing. On the other hand, many of the stories are favorites; Jace and Vraska’s story arc in Ixalan, the dynamics between team members in Kaladesh, and one of the first positive transgender representations in Magic story (The Truth of Names, starring Alesha).

To bring Magic story up to a level that will enhance the game as a whole, we need the return of published story to the main MTG website. Not only would it get people involved in the vast interesting worlds that Magic inhabits, but there is much more information and content on the website that would benefit from the increased traffic there. To do this, Wizards should hire a select team, I would say 3 members, whose sole responsibility is writing these short stories for the website. And there wouldn’t need to be a story published every week, just 15 - 18 throughout the year. Here is how I think it could be broken down:

For each expansion set, a series of 4 - 5 stories telling the story of the set

For each core set, 1 - 2 stories about the featured planeswalker

For each commander set, 2 stories about at least 2 of the legends

This would give 4 – 5 stories for each quarter of the year. Each writer could be in charge of the story for one expansion, with the stories for the core set and commander set being spread out amongst the team. As an example of how this could work for one set, here is how the Theros Beyond Death could have been told as short stories, with the sections pulled out of the snippet published on the main site.

“Elspeth’s Nightmare” – Elspeth being plagued by her nightmares, brought about by Ashiok. In it, Ashiok learns about Phyrexia and Elspeth brings the Shadowspear into reality.

Rise of Demigods – Heliod becoming paranoid and elevating Daxos to be a demigod and gives him his task. This enrages the other gods who call their own demigods, with war breaking out.

Rifts in Mortality – Because of Erebos’s preoccupation with the War, denizens of the Underworld begin to escape. Elspeth begins to rally support and faces against Calix.

Klothys, God of Destiny – A retelling of the binding of the titans and Klothys making herself their guardian. In the present, she creates Calix and gives him his charge.

"Elspeth Conquers Death" – Elspeth defeats Calix once more, implying multiple fights have occurred. Defeating him, she is confronted by Heliod. His spear shatters, based on what she has said about Shadowspear being his actual weapon, and he is locked away by Erebos. Erebos grants Elspeth her mortality, and she planeswalks, soon followed by Calix.

Novelization of Magic Story

Magic: The Gathering novels have been hit-or-miss throughout its history. There have been several successes, as seen by the recent novellas Throne of Eldraine: The Wilderd Quest and Children of the Nameless. I myself was introduced to the game of MTG by one of the novels from the ‘90s, The Prodigal Sorcerer. There have also been a few stinkers; I see you hiding over there Test of Metal. One of the main complaints in the recent story direction (with them being novels) is that it creates a paywall to Magic story. I, for one, am one of those willing to pay $5.00 for an e-book telling the story. However, there are others who feel they can’t. My proposal is to continue to tell Magic story through this medium, but not as the main story that is being told through the card sets. However, these stories can still have an impact on the story as a whole.

There are several recent examples that fit into this mode; two of which are the Chandra Nalaar comics and the Vivien Reid short stories on the website. While there were some issues with the publication of the Chandra Nalaar comics, the story being told was not one of them. And now, all 4 comics are being released together, making a pseudo-graphic novel - I wonder if the reception would have been different if it had been released as a straight up graphic novel, waiting, of course, for the proper time as to not spoil other parts of the story being told. With Vivien Reid short stories, these excellent stories could have been combined as one e-book. As these stories didn’t have an impact on the main story, but served as a method to flesh out a character that will be seen more in the future, I would bet that people would have been more okay with paying for it rather than having to pay for some of the other novels released that told the story of their respective set.

As with short stories, we need the continued publication of these novels / novellas to continue to push Magic story forward. This could stand as an additional revenue avenue for the company, as there are many in the Vorthos community who want as much Magic story as possible. To do this, I would propose that there be 2 novels / novellas / graphic novels published each year through 3rd-party publishers using contracted authors to write them, authors like Kate Elliot, Cassandra Khaw and Nicky Drayden. Good times for the release of these would probably be in June (right before the Core Set is released) and in December (for holiday gift giving).

Conclusion

While it probably won’t satisfy everyone, this model of Magic Story, being published through the website and 3rd-party publishers, would have a great effect on its reception. The pubic would get access to the main story through the short stories, which would also drive more traffic to the Magic: The Gathering website, and additional story content could be purchased through novels / novellas / graphic novels written by contracted authors.

But mostly, feel free to share your thoughts. Do you think this is a direction the Magic Story could go? Are you also bummed out that we didn’t get an actual written story for Theros Beyond Death?

Tagging a few blogs that might have some interest: @flavoracle - I always appreciate your thoughts @askkrenko - Every good discussion needs a goblin’s point of view @thevorthoscast - For those of you who can comment on this @markrosewater - As a way attempt to send constructive feedback to the company who makes the game we all love