#but yeah more or less I have not officially written anything in terms of one shots/fan fiction for the au

[pastelpaperplanes]

frogive me if I am but a fool, but dost Thorns and Thrones exist as a fanfic, or a series of art, or both

Fear not, dearest Anon, thou art naught a fool, for thine own question is unequivocally valid!

Thorns and thrones resides as a story mostly told through art and various asks I have answered on this blog. I do my best to show the story rather than proclaim it, for truly, I am but a great and lowly chicken when it comes to taking up the quill and ink mine self

BUT! people have made many a fan pieces of work for the AU

Make haste! for each and every one has made masses weep tears of joy and merrious laughter. I beg of thee!

Witness the works of many a talented creators!

[hard-core-super-star]

push me on the counter, call me princess [W.Maximoff; N.Romanoff]

pairing: dom!wanda maximoff x sub!reader x dom!natasha romanoff

summary: you and wanda develop a connection you definitely shouldn't have with someone in a relationship. unbeknowst to you, it's all part of their plan.

warnings: PURE SMUT, MINORS DO NO INTERACT -> mentions of cheating! [no actual cheating, though! wandanat have an agreement, R doesn't know about it until things get spicy]; mommy + daddy kink; nipple play; impact play; wanda using her powers to hold R down; fingering [R receiving]; oral [Nat receiving]; twinges of humiliation; degradation + praise; nat's a little mean but we love her for it; use of the term 'slut'; probably more but i forgot

wordcount: 3.3k

a/n: so...i'm technically not doing anything official for kinktober this year because school is kicking my butt already BUT i have a few ideas for some very filthy smut fics so i'll be posting them this month. i haven't written for wandanat in a minute so i hope i did them justice. please let me know your thoughts, i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

It was supposed to be a one time thing.

That's what you told Wanda when she pushed you against the farthest wall in some dingy, badly-lit, New York bar.

The two of you had come back from a long, draining, mission and, instead of staying at the Compound and actually resting, you decided to go out and get drunk to let off some steam. The mission had technically been a success, but it had also been a pain in the ass...and in the shoulder, thanks to the knife wound you'd received.

So, yeah, maybe going out wasn't the best idea in the first place.

In your defense, it was borderline impossible to say no to the witch. Mainly because she was very convincing when she wanted to be, but also because of your massive, and borderline ridiculous, crush on her.

To make matters worse, Wanda was pissed off at Natasha for...something and you ended up taking the place of a supportive partner.

It would have been fine had the drinks in your system not made your inhibitions lower significantly, which rendered you helpless against the green-eyed woman of your dreams. Then again, it's not like you were particularly against that idea in the first place.

Maybe that made you a horrible person.

Maybe that made Wanda a monster.

But how could she be one when she whispered the sweetest words in your ear while taking you over the edge and destroying you in the most pleasurable of ways? How could there be anything wrong about her soft caresses and gentle smiles?

A part of you knows the answer. It's wrong because the witch's heart isn't yours. Or worse, because someone else's heart belongs to the witch.

Because for all their problems and arguments, Wanda and Natasha love each other. At the very least, they tolerate each other enough to stay together.

And you don't fit into their relationship.

You shouldn't.

But Wanda isn't a person you can just ignore.

She makes that perfectly clear no less than a week after your little "mistake".

You're in the kitchen at the Compound, eating some leftovers and scrolling through your phone to keep yourself occupied, when Wanda walks in. You don't need to look at her to know she's pissed off. Her energy is way too heavy to mean anything else.

"Hey, Wands," you say, barely looking up from your phone out of fear of falling under her spell once more.

She walks over to you, leaning against the counter and silently watching you for a second. Her silence honestly scares you, but you don't question her yet. You know better than that.

"You've been avoiding me," she says, her voice soft yet not gentle. "Why is that?"

A shiver runs down your spine at the question. 

You know you can't lie to her, she's a freaking mind reader, but you can't exactly tell her the truth. You've both been trying to ignore it since the morning you woke up tangled together in her bed.

A bed she shares with someone who isn't you.

"I've been busy," you reply with a shrug. "Kate's been forcing me to train every day."

Clearly, that's the wrong answer, considering the tilt of her head.

Yup. You're fucked now.

"Is that so? I didn't realize you two were such good...friends."

Wanda pushes herself off the counter, taking slow, calculated, steps until she's standing behind you. If you weren't so focused on keeping your voice steady, you might have been able to guess what her plan in.

"Well, we both love annoying Clint and making Yelena mad."

She hums in response as her arms wrap themselves around you, pulling you back until you're firmly pressed against her. 

The action almost makes you fall off your stool. You somehow stay put, though, even as every fiber of your being tells you to leave. The harsh truth is that you don't want to leave.

You want her so badly that the consequences don't seem to matter.

Nothing matters but her.

Which is exactly what she wants.

"You should be careful with the little archer," she says, her hands not so subtly caressing your sides. "You know she's just going to use you then throw you away when she's bored."

The irony in her words isn't lost on you.

You open your mouth to let her know that when her hands move up and brush against your chest. It takes all your willpower to stop yourself from gasping.

"Wanda," you hiss. "We're in the middle of the kitchen."

"Relax, detka," she whispers into your ear, your body instantly obeying her words. "You know I won't let anyone see."

"Do I?" you reply. "Because it seems exactly like something you'd enjoy."

The witch chuckles despite herself. "That's true but you're not the only trying to keep things a secret."

You know her words should make you feel worse about this whole thing but right now, they only serve to turn you on. As messed up as it is, there's something exciting about the situation. 

About how much Wanda wants you.

So, even though you know you should push her away, you lean back against her, allowing her hands to explore your body however she wishes.

Your obedience (if you can even call it that) is instantly rewarded by the other woman. Her hands sneak their way under your shirt, her fingers drawing teasing shapes on your warm skin as she makes the journey upward.

"You're such a good girl for me, baby," she mumbles almost absent-mindedly. "Letting me use you like this. Letting me play with you whenever I want."

A part of you wants to put up a fight. To show her you have a bigger backbone than she realizes. That you're able to switch the tables on her whenever you want.

Unfortunately, that part of you goes quiet the second her fingers find your nipples. "Look at you, all ready for me, huh?"

"Shut up," you mumble as your cheeks heat up.

Your words of defiance earn you a sharp pinch to your already sensitive nipples. "Watch your mouth, sweetheart."

It's impossible to stop your back from arching as the leftover sting rushes through your system. You'd learned the hard way that Wanda could either be the sweetest or the most unforgivable lover. In a way, it made being with her all the more exciting...and unpredictable.

Then again, you can't pretend you don't like it. If you didn't, you would have never gotten mixed up with her in the first place.

"Sorry," you whisper, not sounding particularly sincere.

If Wanda notices, she doesn't point it out and instead goes right back to playing with your chest, squeezing and pinching your nipples as she pleases.

Her actions only serve to make you more and more desperate for her. It's almost embarrassing how good she is at reading you. At knowing exactly what buttons to push to turn you into a shaking, pleading mess.

A part of you knows it's thanks to her powers that she can read your desires so well, but you ignore the thought for now. You could beat yourself up over all this later, right now, you had a very important task ahead of you.

"You're eager today," she teases, her eyes zeroing in on the slight movement of your hips. "Did you miss me that much?"

You're not sure why you're in such a defiant mood today but your mouth moves way faster than your thoughts. "Yeah, Kate was too busy today."

You don't see the scarlet that begins to overtake her eyes since you have your back to her. You miss the warning signs until she uses her magic to bend you over the counter, keeping your hands behind your back.

"You're going to regret talking to me like that," she says, holding you down easily thanks to her magic.

It's obvious you should apologize and yet you remain as composed as you possibly can given the situation. As stupid as it is, you're still mad at her for putting you in this situation.

Out of the two of you, she was the one who was in the wrong. She was the one fucking up her relationship just because she was upset with her girlfriend. And she had the audacity to pull you down with her.

To make you like it.

You couldn't place all the blame on her and yet you did it anyway. As if that would somehow fix the entire situation.

Her hand comes down on your ass before you can make your predicament worse. The sudden sensation makes you jump, the leftover sting taking over your mind.

"Wanda." Your attempt to sound mad falls completely flat since your voice is far too breathless for it to be convincing.

She spanks you again. Once. Twice. Each time striking both harder and faster.

"Try again, detka," she tells you, her voice unforgiving. "And then maybe, I'll go easy on you."

She won't.

You know she won't. But the idea that she could is more than tantalizing enough.

Although, then again, it wasn't like you didn't enjoy calling her by her beloved title.

"Mommy," you whisper, your voice sounding way too loud in the empty kitchen.

You don't need to be looking at her to see the proud grin that takes over her features.

This is the real reason why she wants you. Why she likes being with you. Because she doesn't need to fight you to get you to submit to her every whim.

"Good girl." Wanda's hands toy with the waistband of your pants. "Tell me what you want."

You allow the silence to drag on for a second longer than necessary. You both know you won't deny her, you can't, but that doesn't mean you can't keep her guessing. 

Maybe then she'll grow tired of you and stop using you so carelessly.

"Want you to touch me...please, mommy."

You half expect her to drag the moment out until you can't hold yourself back from begging for more. For her.

She doesn't, though, because unbeknownst to you, she's playing a different kind of game with you today.

Wanda uses her powers to undress you, barely giving you a second to register just how vulnerable she's leaving you. You know no one will walk in on you two, she promised you that much, but that doesn't make it any less scary...and thrilling.

"Look at you," she coos, her fingers spreading your slick folds. "So wet and I've barely even touched you. Such a needy thing, aren't you, sweetheart?"

It's embarrassing how hard your walls clench around pure air from the mere tone of her voice. It's that intoxicating mix between degrading and sweet that you want everything she's willing to give you.

"Yes, mommy," you whimper.

"Oh, I know," she says, pushing the tip of her index finger into your tight cunt. "She's such a good girl, isn't she?"

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but her powers hold you down and stop you from turning to look at her. Your question is answered before you can even ask it, though, as a certain pair of black boots make their way into your field of vision.

"I'm not sure." The sound of Natasha's voice sends a shiver down her spine. "She looks like a desperate slut to me."

Wanda stops you from answering, thanks to her powers. "Oh, come on, Nat, don't be mean. Look how eager she is to be played with."

The redhead rolls her eyes. "That just proves my point."

The witch laughs, taking the moment to sink her finger deeper into your pussy, relishing the wet sounds that fill the kitchen. You're more than a little humiliated, but there's nothing you can do to stop it. Worse, there's nothing you can do to deny how wet the situation is making you.

How desperate you are for more.

Wanda knows. Of course, she knows. It's partly because of her powers and partly because she knows your body far too well. And because she knows you so well, she gives you a chance to call the whole thing off before it even truly starts.

"What's your color, y/n?"

It would be so easy to say "red" and stop everything. You know there would be zero judgement. That despite whatever agreement they've come to, they'd both take a step back and make sure you were okay.

And yet...you can't seem to form the word.

Because, as much as you don't want to admit it...you want this.

"Green..." you whisper.

Wanda leans in, taking your mind off of Natasha's eyes on you, and peppers soft kisses across your back. The softness of her lips is a stark contrast to her previous demeanor and it helps calm down your speeding nerves.

The Russian steps forward, her hand cupping your face and gently tilting it backward until your eyes meet. "You want this, don't you, darling?"

You don't want to admit it but you can't bring yourself to lie to her. "Yes...I want this."

The sharpness in her eyes fades away slightly. There's still an edge of annoyance in her features but she looks almost as turned on as you feel. "Good girl."

Your walls clench around Wanda's finger and she chuckles before starting to move in and out of your tight heat. "I think she likes you, Nat."

"Shut up."

Wanda adds another finger into the mix, expertly stretching you out and drawing out a long moan from your parted lips. "That's it, just give in, sweetheart. Doesn't it feel better when you stop thinking so much?"

It's startling how right she is.

She doesn't wait for an answer this time, though, she simply speeds up her movements, curling her fingers in the way that drives you crazy. The pleasure slowly overwhelms your mind, removing all other thoughts until all you can focus on is how good it all feels. How much you like submitting to them like this.

"Mommy..." You whine, watching the way Natasha's eyes darken in response to your sounds. "Please...need more."

"Aw, are two fingers not enough for you, baby?" The fake pity in her tone turns you on more than it should. "Does your greedy pussy need more?"

You nod desperately, ignoring the humiliation that lingers in your every move.

All that earns you is another laugh from Wanda and an eye roll from Natasha.

The redhead steps back from you, causing you to whimper, before her hands move to her belt. Her eyes remain on yours as she starts removing her garments, slowly revealing the red strap-on resting between her legs.

Your lips part almost instantly once you catch sight of the full size of it and just how incredibly dominant it makes Natasha look. You shouldn't be surprised considering what everyone, including Wanda, always say about her. Then again, seeing is believing.

"So fucking eager, aren't you?" You know the Russian is technically making fun of you, but you can't help feeling a bit proud of yourself for the grin on her face.

She steps forward, her hands coming up to tangle in your hair and guide you forward. There's something weirdly soft about her movements, about the way she takes her time with you. Maybe, just maybe, she likes you more than she's let on.

You wrap your lips around the head of the dildo, your eyes glued to Natasha's face. You can see the flecks of pleasure spreading across her features, the way she clenches her jaw to stop herself from vocalizing it. It's like you're stuck in a far too arousing competition with her. Each of you trying your damn harderst to break the other.

Unfortunately for you, you also have Wanda working behind you, her fingers restlessly pumping in and out of your soaked entrance. She knows exactly how to wind you up. 

Exactly how to keep you on your toes yet wanting more.

Natasha guides you further down her cock, working the length deeper into your mouth. "You look so much better like this, malyshka."

"I told you," Wanda pipes up, choosing that exact moment to work another finger into your tight heat. "You just wanted to be a party pooper."

"Keep talking like that and you'll be next, Maximoff."

"You're no fun."

You've never heard Wanda like this. So pouty and borderline bratty. It's a stark contrast to the dominant woman you've grown so attached to. To the one that turns your brain to putty with just a few words.

"Don't get any ideas, sweetheart. Mommy's still in charge here."

You moan in response, the sound muffled by the dildo currently stuffing your mouth.

"If you're Mommy," Natasha says, starting to thrust into your mouth. "Does that make me Daddy?"

You try to voice your approval for the title but neither of the women pay attention to you. They just keep talking like you're not even there, like all you are is a toy for them to play with.

"I thought you didn't like being called that."

The redhead shrugs in response. "I don't but now I'm curious."

"I think our good girl would like it."

You wait for Natasha to complain and say something about how you aren't theirs. Maybe make fun of you again for even thinking they'd ever entertain that idea.

She doesn't, though.

All she does is double her efforts as she keeps thrusting into your mouth. 

The kitchen fills with the sounds of your pleasure as they both play with your needy holes.

You feel yourself growing closer and closer to the edge, the coil in your stomach getting tighter with each one of their well-timed thrusts. You're completely at their mercy and you love every second of their never-ending show of dominance.

Of control over you.

Wanda's movements speed up and you do your best to ask for permission to cum, knowing all too well the consequences that would await you if you forgot. It's practically impossible to speak, though, considering the way Natasha is still thrusting into your mouth, her hips grinding against the base of the dildo each time she slips the length back inside.

"I know, baby," the witch reassures you. "You want to cum so bad, don't you?"

All she gets is a muffled whine in response, your body jerking forward when her thumb teases your swollen clit.

"Go ahead, darling," Natasha speaks up, her voice practically a low growl. "Cum all over Mommy's fingers for me."

You're not used to receiving such a command from the redhead and yet your body reacts immediatly to her tone. Your whole body seems to come alive as you fall over the edge, Wanda's fingers never ceasing in their movements. She expertly draws out your pleasure until you're left shaking and panting. 

The ringing in your ears doesn't allow you to hear the string of moans that leave Natasha's mouth as she watches the scene. The sight of you coming undone so violently causes her to fall apart, her fingers tightening in your hair until you're sputtering for air.

Thankfully, Wanda knows your limits well.

No words are exchanged as she uses her magic on you again. You're barely coherent, your mind still too muddled by pure pleasure and the cotton-filled haze of submission.

She gently sets you down on the couch, wiping down your soaked skin with a wet cloth, making sure to look you over in case their rough movements bruised you up.

"You okay, darling?" The witch asks as she settles down next to you.

You nod in response, shifting a little until your head rests in her lap. "Yeah...just tired."

"You should get some rest, detka. We have a lot to talk about."

Her words make you laugh. "That's an understament, Wands."

"Whatever." She moves her hand down to run her fingers through your hair, gently scratching your scalp as sleep overcomes you.

There's a lot you don't understand, a lot you really figure out, but you feel safe with the knowledge that you haven't ruined anything. That you're not an intruder in their relationship. If anything, you're a welcome addition.

[feeshies]

Okay time for me to be (more?) annoying

I saw multiple posts talking about how Moo Deng was being taken advantage of and I don't know anything about zoos (much less what zoos are supposed to do when an animal goes viral) so I'll let people more qualified talk about that. But one of the points brought up was the fact that the zoo was "patenting" the hippo.

Let me get my 1 "um, actually" point. The zoo isn't patenting her. Unless they created a serum that created this specific hippo and they want to protect their invention. The zoo is actually trademarking her.

If that was my only point, I wouldn't be making this post (people use these terms interchangeably all the time and it's just...something I have to deal with).

It's fine.

It's. Fine.

(SummerAutumn, they may not see you, but I see and appreciate you)

But maybe I'm just jaded from studying IP and trademark law, but I really don't see the issue?

The argument was always, "this shows that the zoo is trying to make money off of her!" Which...yeah? Would you expect them not to? Also, do you think they aren't already?

A trademark doesn't mean "you can now profit from this thing." It means "this thing is recognizable enough in commerce that you can register it as yours." There are still common law protections for non-registered marks, but having that official registration provides more protection. That's basically what a trademark does: it marks trade. The zoo is going to sell merch. It is what it is. The trademark registration just allows the zoo to say "yes this is official hippo merch straight from the source" as well as allowing them to raise action against other people claiming the same thing with their bootleg merch.

As my new best friend SummerAutumn said, priority filing plays a major role in this. We saw this recently with the "Demure" meme (we talked about that in class again a few days ago which is what helped spark this whole thing. Memes come up a lot in that class idk). If the zoo doesn't get the trademark, someone else will. And maybe we don't want someone who can't even locate Thailand on a map getting priority filing (the zoo could still challenge it of course but that's a different issue).

I can't speak to any of the animal treatment stuff, but from what I've seen just looking into the trademark stuff off tumblr and twitter, idk it seems fine. And of course there are instances of people registering marks for less-than-noble purposes. But idk "zoo registering to trademark their famous animal so they can turn in a profit" doesn't seem as evil as some people are making it out to be. Most of the complaints I've seen are written like the zoo is personally taking money from Moo Deng, like they're dipping into her college fund or something.

Anyway, I just needed to get my thoughts down. Again, my issue isn't that people aren't getting this specific legal term right (I certainly didn't know the exact nuances of trademark vs copyright vs patent law a year ago). My issue is people are taking this legal concept and coming to the bad faith conclusion that there is something morally dubious going on when it's clear no one is looking into how this area of law works. Moo Deng being trademarked is not an indication of how she's being treated or how her caretakers see her. If you want to say that it feels scummy to involve any animal in commerce like this, then you can have that opinion, but that's bigger than trademark law and it's certainly bigger than a single zoo in Thailand.

[fullbrave]

if i was going to make a direct sequel to bravely default 2 (and don't think i won't. move over team asano) here's how i would do it

friends and family alike will be shocked to learn that i'd borrow heavily from bravely second. not just in terms of style and gameplay qualities that i want to bring back, but also in the sense that i'd make a party comprised of two new guys and two returning guys. if you would guess that the two guys i'm choosing to return to the party are elvis and adelle, then you know me well, but you would be half wrong this time. i'm picking SETH and adelle. my reasons for this are twofold:

firstly, i just think that gloria and elvis have the most potential to be interesting as non-playable characters the way agnès and ringabel were. the newly crowned queen of a fallen kingdom? the laid-back scholar whose kindness transcends age-old conflicts? hell yeah, tell me more!

(in trying to boil post-bd2 elvis down to his bare essentials there i almost made myself CRY but seriously!! i can see him serving in some official capacity as ambassador to mag mell but at the same time being so unserious about it. have i ever told you guys i love him)

(by the way, in this game i would bring back the whole rebuilding-a-destroyed-thing minigame. we're rebuilding musa. it's right there. seth can be the guy in the party who's in charge of the rebuilding effort because you KNOW he would offer to do absolutely anything he can for gloria)

(bravely) secondly, and more importantly, seth and adelle both have personal character stuff the first game left unresolved that really bothers me. seth is obviously the more notable case of the two but i also wanted the game to dive deeper with adelle sooooo bad.

if one of the new guys was the Main Character™ then seth would have to be written differently to fit a supporting role (like tiz was!) and i think this could work wonders for him. a sequel would be a perfect opportunity to make him less of a vague plot device, more of a person.

and then with adelle, of course you can get into figuring out what the FUCK happened to edna to make her end up like that — something happens to make this relevant again in a way that adelle can no longer ignore, which i imagine has been her coping strategy up until now.

you know, i almost held back from saying more about adelle because i was like "this is too self-indulgent..." bitch, in my self-indulgent bravely default post? on my self-indulgent bravely default account? please. i'm going to say more: for reasons i actually won't expand on here because i feel like it's digressing i think adelle becomes the next fairy queen post-game, but i also don't think it's a smooth transition. i don't think she sees herself as a leader, and she's still carrying a lot of guilt over everything edna did, so she'd be pretty resistant to this idea. but i do think people would WANT her to lead. so i guess she's just going to have to go do some soul-searching and figure out what she wants to do! perhaps on some kind of journey, or adventure, accompanied by three other guys... (not unlike edea's bsel character arc, now that i think of it!)

this goes without saying, because i'm me, but i'd also want to flesh out the fairy lore a whole lot more. i need to know so much more information about bd2 fairies right now. yesterday. two years ago, even. who's with me? so that's another great reason to keep adelle in the party. maybe one of the new guys can also be a fairy. that'd be fun. just throwing out random ideas now.

edit: oh i knew i was gonna forget something. this didn't occur to me until i was posting my broken-ass twitter thread, but of course the original protags would all have new designs in this game, and adelle's could proudly include elements from her fairy form, because she doesn't have to hide anymore... this is important to me.

regarding crystals, seth and adelle keep their blessings, but the water and earth crystals choose new guys for whatever reason. if elvis and gloria are missing from parts of the story for reasons similar to agnès and ringabel that could be interesting, and would explain this — that doesn't necessarily have to be the case though. as we saw with sloan and aileen, the crystals can just kinda choose a new guy whenever, and i can also very much see gloria and elvis being retired from the hero of light business on purpose. i think i prefer that idea, in fact; it's a choice that makes sense for both of them in a way that it wouldn't for the other two, in my opinion.

a new party means a new fun little acronym, though! AGES had its day, now it's time for something new. on twitter i joked that the new acronym should be SWAG because i couldn't think of anything serious, but then i realized: if it's going to be a key part of the story that you're rebuilding gloria's kingdom, obviously it should be MUSA instead. so brb i will now be making up some bravely ocs whose names start with M and U.

"but puck, seth can't be a supporting character because the player gets to name him in the first one!" way ahead of you. another thing i'm doing is retconning that moment at the end of bd2 when it would have been perfect for seth to reveal what his real name is because that was SUCH A WASTE! i totally don't think about this every day of my life or anything, but i just think that making a big deal out of the fact that the party's initials spell out an important word despite the fact that the player has the power to mess this up for literally no reason is the height of nonsense, so this is not how i would do things. personally ❤️

so you can name my new protagonist guy but whatever name you choose has to fit the MUSA acronym. just kidding, you can't name them. sorry women

(incidentally, if i couldn't bring seth and adelle back, and i was in charge of making a brand new party, i would make their initials spell REVO. nothing but respect for my president.)

when i thought about the way bravely second brought back most of the asterisks from the first game, i wasn't sure at first of how best to pull that off in this game, but then it hit me. elvis has them. every time you want to get one of the jobs from the first game you have to go fight elvis. square enix you can USE these ideas just GIVE ME CREDIT.

but that doesn’t mean all the asterisk holders who are still alive aren't around! they are! in fact i think it’d be funny if they were all part of the sidequests for their respective asterisks but every sidequest still ends with you fighting elvis for some reason. i won't bring any dead asterisk holders back because as fun as it was, that too was the height of nonsense. “couldn’t you just use the stone portal things from bd2 to allow the player to fight asterisk holders, dead or alive?” sure but i like my idea better.

(in fact it kind of gives me plot ideas. maybe elvis has been entrusted with the asterisks but it comes to light that someone is making NEW ONES and the party is charged with finding out who it is and what their deal is. could be a fun way to explain why there's new jobs!)

anyway, i ensure that revo comes back to write the music by offering him a trillion dollars, which i have. seth's new special theme is called "the seafarer's skills tame the storm... 2!" and adelle's is called "please stop praying for the wandering flame she's risen too high she broke out of the hospital". the game itself will be known as bravely default². thank you, and GOOD NIGHT

[clairelsonao3]

Damn, almost missed this somehow lol (sorry, the numbers don't copy 😔)

OC you most struggled to make?

How many projects do you have going on right now? Are there any that you doubt you’ll ever finish?

What are all the “kinds” of writing/art you do? (short stories, poetry, screenplays, digital, painting, clay, etc.)

What are your favourite books?

Thanks for the asks, Anna! From this ask game.

OC you most struggled to make?

Probably one of the ones that appeared in one of the WIPs I've since scrapped (which explains why I scrapped them). My characters talk to me, and sadly, sometimes they say "Yeah, I don't wanna be in this book." 😂

Before I decided to continue with my current WIP, I had plans for a contemporary romance focused on royalty (and non-royalty) from a fictional country. I loved the male MC, but the female MC was just resisting me at every turn. I couldn't get a clear picture of her face, her background, her motivation, anything. So into the bin she went.

I also had another YA historical romance going for a while that I put on the back burner because the male MC wasn't working for some of the same reasons, although I'm still in love with the concept (it was Oliver Twist-inspired!).

How many projects do you have going on right now? Are there any that you doubt you’ll ever finish?

If you count "projects that exist in my brain," the number is probably infinite. I've had things I've wanted to write for 10 years or more( see above) but haven't for various reasons. In terms of official WIPs, I'd say 3, but only one is really active at the moment.

What are all the “kinds” of writing/art you do? (short stories, poetry, screenplays, digital, painting, clay, etc.)

At different points in my life, I've written short stories, poetry, flash fiction, screenplays, stage plays, and even songs. I thought learning as many forms of writing as I could would make me well-rounded (it really just made me exhausted). And that doesn't even take into account the nonfiction writing I do. At the moment, though, I'm more or less only working in long-form fiction (i.e. novels).

What are your favourite books?

Thank god the question was "books," plural! Here's a selection off the top of my head:

The Blind Assassin - Margaret Atwood

Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

The Magus - John Fowles

Dreamland - Kevin Baker

Ragtime - E.L. Doctorow (also Loon Lake by same)

Bel Canto - Ann Patchett

Labyrinths - Jorge Luis Borges

The Egyptologist - Arthur Phillips

The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle - Avi

The Westing Game - Ellen Raskin

Troubling a Star - Madeleine L'Engle

The Secret Garden and A Little Princess - F.H. Burnett

The Chronicles of Narnia (favorite being The Magician's Nephew) - C.S. Lewis

This list should not be considered exhaustive 😂

[nerdypanda3126]

The Making of a Luthier

This was written for the @lukacouffainezine. Leftover sales are open until Dec. 1, make sure to get your copy! The art for this piece was done by moge_ko_draws (originally posted on Instagram, posted to Tumblr with permission) (go check out her work, she’s a great artist!)  

Luka joins a club for making stringed instruments. Along the way he makes a new friend and learns about the people in his life and about himself.

Read on Ao3

Luka considered the flier in his hand as he walked down the hallway of his school until he came to the advertised door. Other than the bold heading of "Making Music Mean More," it was a nondescript piece of paper with a room number and a vague paragraph about joining a club—but Luka knew better than to judge anything by appearance alone. 

When he peeked in the doorway, though, it wasn't quite what he expected. Scraps of wood littered the small room and strange tools took command of most of the area. His eyes bounced from one work in progress to the next; even pulled apart he knew how to recognize a guitar. 

He knocked on the doorframe, but when no one answered, he took a tentative step in, then another, and before he knew it his hand was lying on an almost-finished piece. 

"You have a good eye," a voice said, jolting Luka out of his train of thought. 

A blonde girl his age was watching him, her soft blue eyes hiding a laugh behind plastic safety glasses as she paused in her work. Although he didn't quite understand what she was actually working on. Something with a machine that shaved bits of wood off the large piece she was pushing through. The heavy leather apron she wore was covered in sawdust, and when she flipped her braid over her shoulder he could see flecks of wood entangled in her hair, too. 

She flicked a switch and the machine powered down. "You here to join our little club?" A quick nod to the paper in his hands made him glance down at it, too.

"I… well… what is this place?" 

"Officially it's the school's wood shop." 

"And unofficially?" 

"It's where M. Carpentier lets me make stringed instruments in my spare time. But the headmaster found out and now I need to recruit enough people to make this an official club before she'll let me continue 'wasting school resources.'" She rolled her eyes and propped her glasses up on her head, pushing her bangs out of her face to level him with a look. "So, what do you say, are you in?" 

He blinked back at her, then looked down at the unfinished instrument under his fingers. It must've been hers. The labor it must've taken to create, the time she'd put into it already, and all alone in this workshop… she must really love it. He'd never thought about making instruments before, but now that he was… 

He needed music in his life. But he never wanted to perform—commanding attention on stage turned his stomach and he liked being home too much for a life of touring. Maybe this was something he could do behind the scenes that would still help others discover their own voices and talents. Maybe this could be something he could do for him. Making music mean more. 

When he looked back up, the girl was watching him with a pleased smile on her face like she already knew his answer but was still waiting to hear him say it. 

"Yeah," he finally obliged her. "I'm in. I'm Luka, by the way." 

Her smile grew. "Allegra. You know, like the musical term? But with an 'a' instead of an 'o.'" She flicked her glasses back down and offered him a spare pair. "Come on, I'll start you off over here on the belt sander. Less chance you'll cut anything off." 

***

It took three months of time stolen in between school and helping out on the Liberty, but finally he was familiar with every machine in the shop and he was ready to try his hand at making his first guitar. 

Before he could start, though, he still needed to choose a type of wood to use. It was surprisingly a more difficult decision than he thought it'd be. Was he looking for a warm sound or a deep resonance? Something light and springy or something more durable? The wood shop had plenty of scraps, but when he ran his hand over them none of them seemed… right. He couldn't explain it. But someday he hoped this instrument would be someone's voice. It felt important that he got it right.

Later that week, while he was still weighing Allegra's advice about prices versus sounds, his sister brought someone new on deck and shyly introduced her as "Rose." He couldn't help but smile as Rose flounced around the houseboat like she'd always belonged there, dragging Juleka along by the hand, her bright pink a sharp contrast to Juleka's preferred black, her effervescence practically contagious. 

Watching them, it was as plain as day in the way their melodies played against each other: his sister had a crush. Not mutual, but… Rose was fond of Juleka at least. It was more than that, though. They fit together.

Contrast. His eyes widened. That's what he needed. Warmth and mellowness contrasted against something bright and springy. Rosewood and maple. The rosewood he'd have to source, but there was plenty of maple around the shop. 

He gave Juleka a jumbled explanation and fumbled with his bike lock in his rush to get to the workshop. 

***

"So after we've soaked it, it goes on the jig," Allegra explained, pulling a dripping strip of wood out of the hot water bath it had stayed in for the past hour. "It needs to be wet, otherwise the second you try to put tension on it, it'll just snap." 

With an air of expertise, she guided his hands to settle the pliant wood into the shaping jig—one of her own design, she'd told him proudly on his first day. It seemed like a delicate process as Allegra did everything swiftly but in a precise order. Once all the clamps were on, she let out a breath she'd apparently been holding. 

"What now?" he asked, still dazed from watching a material he thought would be more stubborn than that bend to her will so easily. 

"Now we leave it alone. It'll air dry and harden all on its own." 

She smacked his hand away when he went to touch the curve she'd helped him make. Once it dried it would be the swell of the body of the guitar, perfectly curved to fit onto the player's thigh. 

Something that should've been too stubborn to bend. His mom's hard-won unyielding independence popped into his thoughts. At some point in her life, Anarka had been in love. Maybe she'd even thought about spending her life with someone. He didn't know anything about his father, but he knew his mother's heart had been broken beyond repair. 

She'd been hardened into her final shape, too.  

And now here he was, exploring a quiet career making instruments. If he hadn't had the upbringing he did… if his mother hadn't been so hurt when whoever his father was walked away from her and her unborn children… if she hadn't had to go it all alone… things could've been different. He could've been different. Maybe Anarka wouldn't have been as focused on raising him to be independent. Maybe she wouldn't have encouraged him to find his own happiness outside of what anyone else thought of him. What anyone expected of him. 

"Hello? Earth to Luka?" Allegra waved a hand in front of his face. He shook his head clear and managed to smile. Her eyebrows furrowed as she frowned back at him. "You can't zone out like that in front of a machine, you know." 

He paused, his fingers hovering over the still-damp wood, before he opened his mouth to ask a question, then closed it again, choosing his words more carefully than normal. 

"Do you ever feel like you're losing parts of yourself when you make these?" he finally asked. 

Allegra considered him, and he almost started to apologize for not making sense when she looked over at the guitar she'd just finished—the one he'd found his first day in the shop. 

"I think of it more like finding lost parts of myself," she answered him wistfully. "And letting them go." 

***

"This is Ivan," Rose announced proudly. Luka smiled at the gargantuan teen, trying to decide whether to trust his instinct or his intuition. When Ivan waved shyly, Luka's intuition won out and he decided then and there Ivan was a friend. 

"He plays drums and writes songs!" Rose was gushing, and Luka just barely caught the worried glance Juleka shot between the two of them. Unneeded, Luka knew, but he couldn't tell her that. Not yet, anyways. 

"Welcome to the band," Luka said, extending his hand. It disappeared in Ivan's grip. 

It took some cajoling on Rose's part, but Ivan eventually—bashfully—produced a wrinkled piece of paper with a poem written on it. Luka smoothed the crinkles out with the pads of his fingers. 

"She screamed and ran away when I tried to sing it," Ivan said, balling his fists in what Luka interpreted as a show of embarrassment rather than anger. "So maybe it's not very good." 

Luka's eyes flicked down the paper, then back up at Ivan. He would never bring it up, but he was pretty sure Juleka had told him about Ivan's akumatization. And what caused it. Ivan was in love. Luka smiled as he handed the paper back. 

"Did you ever try again?" 

By the shy smile that Ivan directed off to the side, Luka figured he had, and had been successful. It was a rare person that was as sensitive as Ivan but as willing to expose himself to rejection more than once. 

Later in the shop, Luka picked up the rosewood intended for the fretboard. Solid, sturdy, able to withstand the cut of steel strings over time, but still softer than it looked. Not unlike his new friend. 

"Are you using that or what?" Allegra asked from across the room. When he blinked back to where he was, she was watching him curiously.

"Yeah. I was just thinking." 

She rolled her eyes at him. "I swear if you start talking in musical metaphors again I'll ban you forever." 

"You can't ban me," he said, chuckling as he moved over to his workstation, rosewood still in hand. "I'm the only one who knows how to sweet talk the bandsaw." 

She muttered something under her breath about how he was lucky he was cute and he shook his head, smiling, as he started measuring. 

***

"What's up with you today?" Allegra asked, her tone bristling. "You're all… spaced out or something." 

He shook his head clear of the melody that was looping through his head before he managed to smile. "Nothing. A new song stuck in my head, that's all." 

She pursed her lips. "By 'song' you mean you met someone new, right?" When he only nodded, her eyebrows furrowed. "A girl?" 

He hummed in response. "One of Juleka's friends. Marinette." 

Clear as a musical note, sincere as a melody. Brave enough to find Ladybug on her own initiative and tell her to help his mom. And something more. He couldn't put his finger on it, but when he'd played those chords for her there was something else hiding beneath the surface. A mystery, or a secret. Something important to her—integral, even. 

When Allegra didn't answer him, he realized he'd continued humming, not quite as 'to himself' as he'd thought. 

"Marinette, huh?" she asked, her tone light but too careful. 

Her eyes darted away from his, and she busied herself by whittling a scrap piece of wood she couldn't possibly be thinking of using as color rose to her cheeks. He looked away, guilty of seeing too much again. 

He focused instead on setting another piece of mother of pearl in place for the inlay around the soundhole, admiring the unique sheen as the colors shifted in the light. He liked the way there was something more to look for in each piece. If he squinted, he could imagine he could see the whole rainbow the stones offered, but it was still barely beyond his grasp. 

"Yeah," he answered softly, smiling to himself as he ran his fingers over his work. "Ma-Ma-Marinette." 

***

"Run the booth?" Luka asked incredulously as Allegra pushed a paper into his hands and started pulling guitars off the wall to show at the fair. 

"Sure, why not? You know everything about this place, right?" 

He stopped her as she reached for the violin she'd made the past year. Seeing it in her hands, finished, he couldn't understand why she wouldn't want to share her passion with others.  

"It should be you," he said. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you." 

She paused, staring at his hand on hers. "Won't Marinette be there?" 

He let her implication roll off him. She'd seen him go through trying to date Marinette, breaking up with her, and then worrying about how she was avoiding him. But they were friends again, and Allegra knew that. He’d rather have Marinette in his life as a friend than nothing at all. And the same was true for Allegra. They’d spent two years in the shop together. She’d taught him everything he knew. 

The guitar he’d just finished was as much hers as it was his. She was in every piece of it. 

Instead of telling her any of that, he just shook his head. “I don’t think so.” 

She broke his grip gently and packed the violin and its bow away with everything else. He felt the tension in the air but didn’t know what to do about it. 

Finally, she sighed. “I won’t be here next year,” she said quietly. “We’re moving to London, and I’ll be at another school. So it’s up to you to keep this thing going.” She turned and pressed the violin case into his hands, giving him a brave smile. “So, what do you say? Are you in?” 

***

Marinette was talking to André the ice cream man when he spotted her. Smiling, he walked up as quietly as he could behind her, intending to surprise her. 

“Hello, Marinette,” he said, and his smile grew when she jumped. It was nice being friends with her, teasing her. No pressure on anyone. 

“Luka!” she yelped, then looked back at André helplessly. “Actually, Luka and I are just… uh—” 

“Buddies,” he supplied, sensing her distress. “We’re buddies.” 

“You don’t necessarily have to be in love to enjoy your own scoop of magic,” André said, apparently continuing his conversation with Marinette. He handed the ice cream to Luka, but Luka handed it over to Marinette instead. He’d never cared much for André’s ice cream, funnily enough, but Marinette seemed to like it. As they bid goodbye to André he did steal a bite from the scoop on top, though. 

"I'm surprised to see you here!” Marinette said. “I thought you already knew what career you're going to have."

"I do," he answered easily, "I'm in charge of my school's booth where I tell people about being a maker of stringed instruments." 

He’d led her there as if on instinct. His guitar was on display. Front and center. His hand gravitated to it the same way it always did and he picked it up, mostly to have something to do with his hands. 

"What about you, Marinette? Why are you here? Aren't you on your way to becoming a talented fashion designer?" 

"I don't know anymore. There's so many careers that interest me in the world of fashion, creation, decoration…" She sighed. "You're lucky you know exactly what you want to do." 

"I just listen to my inner voice." He played a few notes on his guitar, listening to the sound it made more than the notes themselves. "This is the first instrument I ever made." Marinette was watching him with wide eyes and he didn't even hesitate. The guitar was in her hands. 

"It took me two years," he admitted. 

Two years in the shop with Allegra. Two years of finding pieces of himself and putting those pieces and thoughts into the wood. Everyone he loved was there, some way or another. 

The inlay he’d created shone in the sun as Marinette admired the guitar, casting a rainbow between the strings for the briefest moment. 

The flier had simply read “Making Music Mean More.” He hadn’t known then that by walking into that room he’d find what he was meant to do—and what he was made of.

[ptergwen]

written in the stars

w/c: 2.7k

warnings: jus (lots of) making out

summary: using your newly acquired knowledge of astrology, you test your compatibility with tom

a/n: i was planning on making this a little blurb for y’all but then i got really into it and here we are lmfhfksjks i promise you don’t have to know anything about astrology or birth charts to enjoy cuz i broke it all down + it’s not the main focus of the fic anyways! this is mostly a day in the life with tommy boy and i hope you like it as much as i do :,) also some of this might be wrong.. i’m not an expert so yeah

•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

“right, so how does this work again?” tom watches your laptop screen with curious eyes.

you’ve been getting into astrology lately, and whatever you care about, so does he. that’s why you’re currently laid across your bed in sweats while you teach him everything you know. but first, you’ll need to do his birth chart. it’s the pinnacle of everything.

“you just have to tell me what time you were born, then it does the rest for me,” you grin, typing in the name of the website. you’d had to do some research to find a reliable one. “that’s it? you don’t need, like, my birthday or something?” tom quirks an eyebrow at the chart generator.

“i already know your birthday, babes.” you laugh softly and let your head fall onto his shoulder. “you crazy gemini.” “‘m not crazy.” he smiles despite himself, leaning his head on yours. “just got a big personality, innit? charming, clever, lots of energy,” he lists off the characteristics of his sign, which you just taught him. that lights up your whole face.

“definitely not cocky,” you deadpan, tom scrunching his nose in response. “look at you, remembering all that. you really are clever.” “well, it’s interesting.” he drapes an arm around you, fingers running up and down your side. “i quite like the idea of the universe knowing me so well.”

tapping your fingers on the keys, you hum. “you’ll love your birth chart, then. tell me when you were born.” tom grimaces and squeezes at your waist. “i don’t actually know.” “how do you not know?” you flick his back playfully, making him flinch. he pokes you so you’re even. “i’ve never thought to ask. guess i’m not that clever after all.”

those are teasing words, but you press a reassuring kiss to his cheek. he gladly accepts it and gives you one on the side of your neck.

“no, your head’s gigantic. there’s gotta be something up there.” you knock on his skull for emphasis, your hand tangling in his hair. tom lets out a breathy chuckle. “hot air,” he explains as your fingers run through the messy locks. “you’re so...” you don’t even have the words. tom does. “hilarious? witty? amusing?” he tries to finish, tilting his head back to look at you.

“yeah, all of the above,” you confer and bring your hand back down to the keyboard. your lips curve into a smirk when tom whines. he’s the biggest baby, and he makes no attempt to hide it. “why don’t you text your mom and ask for your time of birth?” you suggest, tom pursing his lips in agreement. “sure, i’ll give mum a ring. i bet she loves this stuff, too.”

you roll over to lay on your back, tom still on his stomach. he pulls his phone from his pocket and opens imessage. “ah, nikki’s an astrogirl?” you wonder. tom makes a funny face at the term. “is that what you call yourselves?” “not really. well, not officially.” giggling, you loop your fingers around his wrist. “you can be an astroboy, if you want. or girl.”

tom sighs and leans over so his face hovers above yours. “god, you’re adorable. how are you so cute?” he gently pecks your lips. you’re about to kiss back, then he moves off to your cheek. after that is your forehead, chin, and finally down the bridge of your nose. it leaves you out of breath from laughter and with warm skin.

“i can’t answer that if you’re gonna launch a kiss attack on me-“

tom’s lips capture yours in a proper kiss, which you now get the chance to reciprocate. you hold him in place with your hands on his cheeks. his eyes instantly flutter closed and lashes tickle your face. the feeling draws another giggle out of you, and right into his mouth.

“absolutely gorgeous,” tom mutters against your lips. “anyone ever tell you that?” “you do, tommy. all the time.” your voice comes out gravelly, breathless, a grin painting your face. it transfers to tom. “mm, that’s right. my pretty baby.” he’s beaming down at you. he moves on top of you swiftly, his weight held up by his elbows on your sides.

you pull apart so you can go back in harder, hands situating in his curls again. tom grabs at your hips while the kiss deepens. your legs wrap around his waist clad in joggers and allow your bodies to be even closer together. the less space between you two, the needier you both get. “love,” tom parts his lips for you. “can i get a little more?” “course you can, tommy.” your fingers tug at his curls, mouth opening slightly.

his tongue skims its way across your lower lip, asking for access. you give his hair another pull to grant it. tom lets his tongue slip into your mouth, searching for your own as his hands continue to roam your body. he’s gone from gently peppering you in kisses to fully eating your face. no complaints, though. a quiet whimper escapes you when your tongues clash.

tom starts to push up your t-shirt, eyes opening to meet yours for approval. they’re completely darkened. you nod because you can’t answer with words. your tongue is preoccupied, intertwined with his. he sets his hands on your bare stomach, your nails scratching at tom’s scalp in a way that elicits a low groan.

“feels good?” your words come out muffled, barely audible. tom still understands them. “so good,” he rasps, calloused fingers dragging along your skin. they start to move up your body as you brush your lips against his. the kiss is light, and tom’s lips feel swollen as they move. his hands are nearing your chest, your legs tightening around his waist.

it earns another sinful noise from him. you want to see just how much he’s enjoying himself, so you peek up at him. what a sight that is. his faced twisted up as he focuses on kissing you, strands of hair stuck to his forehead from your playing with it. he’s so beautiful, and deserves to know. before you can tell him, you see his phone light up from the corner of your eye.

“tom,” you mumble his name. he’s too distracted by searching for your bra hook to hear. “tommy?” you’re louder this time, his mouth moving off of yours. “what is it, love?” tom exhales, hot breath hitting your face. “i think your mom texted back.” you offer a smile and run your thumb over his plumped lips. he only squints at you.

“about your time of birth,” you clarify. “for your birth chart.” “oh, that.” he kisses your thumb, nodding to himself. “forgot we were doing that.” tom tends to get a bit carried away with anything you related. making out can go on for hours and down many different paths, but it’s not the only thing. he’s a man in love, and the woman he shares that with gets all his attention at any given time. you’re so lucky to receive it.

you nod back and feel his racing heart as it beats against yours. “if you still want to, yeah.” “i definitely do. wanna hear you say more nice things about me,” tom jokes, a smug grin pulling at his lips. your eyes narrow. “who says they’ll be nice?” you challenge and earn a snicker from him.

“alright, missy. can you hand me my phone please?” he drops his head onto your chest, big brown eyes gazing up at you. “yes, sir.” you pat his cheek and grab his phone from next to you. tom’s contact name for nikki is set as ‘Ma x’, which brings a toothy smile to your face. “here you go.” you dangle his phone above his head. tom takes it from you promptly. “thanks.”

after leaving a couple of kisses on your clothed chest, he rolls to lay next to you. “let’s see, let’s see,” he murmurs, reading his mom’s messages. you scoot closer so you can look. “ooh, lots of crying emojis,” tom remarks. “i think you made her kinda nostalgic.” you pout at the screen. copying your face, he clicks on a picture nikki attached.

“she even pulled out the birth certificate.” he shows you his phone, and you zoom in to see when he was born. “big stuff here,” you say while you read. tom takes the time to get comfortable, resting his chin on your shoulder. “looks like you popped out in the middle of the night,” you conclude, giving him his phone back. he clicks his tongue at you.

“don’t say popped out.” feigning innocence, you glance over at him. “too late.” tom types out a reply thanking his mom before tossing his phone aside. “middle of the night makes sense, though.” he bites the inside of his cheek. “i’ve always been a party animal, haven’t i?” you turn onto your side and put a hand on his chest.

“it’s in your gemini nature. or really, your tom nature.” tom does an over exaggerated wink. “i like the sound of that.” he chuckles when you hit at his chest. “bring the laptop. let’s get this thing going.” you huff as you reach over him to grab it. you’ve switched positions so you’re laying horizontally on your stomach and over his legs, your laptop in front of you.

“if we find out there’s any scorpio in you...” you shutter. “hm? what’s wrong with scorpios?” tom wonders, watching you plug his birth time into the generator. “they’re literally insane, tom. like, serial killer insane. there’s statistics.” your eyes go wide as you hit enter. he leans his head back on his arms with a wince. “never mind, then.”

a small gasp leaves your lips, you squeezing tom’s knee. “it’s done.” “what does it say? share with the audience,” tom requests so you do your thing. you’re eager to get to it, turning the laptop to show him his birth chart. “ok, so.” you point at a box a few places down. “this is your rising sign, which is basically how other people see you.”

tom reads the chart, moving his own finger along the screen. “it says i’m a... taurus. what are those like?” “in one word? boring,” you summarize, tom only frowning. “kidding, kidding.” his frown fades into a small smile at that. “they’re known for being super nice and chill... also stubborn,” you tell him and prop your head in your hand.

“so, that makes no sense. those are complete opposites,” tom comments, slipping out from under you. he settles by your side. “i don’t get how i can be a gemini and a taurus, either.” “weird, right?” you sigh in content as his hand comes to stay on the small of your back. “very strange. do you think it could be wrong?”

“are you questioning the universe’s plan?” you tease, tom drumming his fingers on you. “yes, i am.” “see, you’re stubborn! taurus things.” you scroll down to his moon sign before he can protest. tom sticks out his tongue and tries to lick your cheek, which you stop by putting your hand in his face. “next is your moon sign,” you laugh out, ignoring his boyish behavior.

“that controls your emotions and private thoughts,” you elaborate and look presently surprised when you see what tom’s is. “yours is sagittarius. that’s a cool one.” “is it? how come?” tom sneaks a few kisses down the shell of your ear. “you guys are really open-minded and into things that challenge you.” he nods, signaling for you to go on. you turn onto your back so you’re looking up at him.

“you’re all about your freedom, though. it’s hard to hold you down for too long.” grinning, tom brings his face into your line of vision. “that must mean you’re a real force because i’m not going anywhere.” he nudges your nose with his, lips ghosting over yours. you return the smile and meet him halfway for your lips to connect. “anytime soon,” tom adds on in a whisper, kissing back easily.

this one doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t need to. it’s just one of those kisses that makes you feel each other’s love, no matter how you go about it. they’re essentially your own made up love language.

you’re still smiling when your lips detach, fingers combing through tom’s tussled locks. “now that we’ve done the big three...” you preface. “androids, aliens, and wizards?” tom jokes, you breathing out a laugh. you’d thought he had a soft spot for sam and bucky. your suspicions were correct.

“cute, but no. your sun sign, moon sign, and rising sign,” you explain to him. “sure, sure. what about them?” tom toys with the hem of your shirt while you think. a mischievous glint in your eyes, you suddenly sit up. “since you know yours, and i know mine, how about we test our compatibility?”

tom is well aware of what that means, and he isn’t so sure he’d like to do it. he’s someone who believes in cliches like soulmates and fate, so he’ll take your results seriously. after the lessons on astrology you gave him, especially.

his heart will always hold a special place for you and you only. nothing will change that. but, what if the universe says you can’t be together? where do you go from there?

“um,” tom presses his lips into an uncertain line. you’re already getting your laptop. “i mean, do we want to know? what if we’re not...” you come back over to him with both eyebrows furrowed. “compatible?” “yeah” he hesitates before answering, which tells you he’s nervous.

“it’s just for fun, tommy,” you assure him and press a quick kiss to his lips. “besides, if anyone could defy the odds, it would be us.” tom perks up a bit, sitting up next to you. “you think we’re that strong, huh?” “absolutely. do you?” you’re already sure what he’s going to say. he pulls you into his lap, kissing at your hair and letting it linger. “one hundred percent. i’ll do it.”

you put your laptop in your own lap with a grin. tom’s arms hold you by your middle. “ok, here we go,” you mutter, searching for a good compatibility calculator. it doesn’t take long to find one. “remember, this all a bunch of theories. our love goes beyond what a stupid website tells us, okay?” you remind him, his arms tightening around you.

“okay. i love you,” tom speaks into your hair. “you’re so good at saying exactly what i need to hear. how do you do it?” “i love you too, and that’s a secret i’ll never tell.” you take one of his hands and bring it to your lips. tom’s leg bounces while you plug your three signs and his into the calculator. before hitting the calculate option, you look at him over your shoulder.

“ready?” your finger hovers over the cursor. you know how much these things mean to him, so you want to be positive that he is. “can we do it together?” tom asks shyly, which is highly uncharacteristic of him. “sure, baby. on the count of three.” you wait for him to place his hand over yours. he grips it tight, then you start to count. “one... two... three.”

the two of you click calculate at the same time, your results taking a few seconds to load. “love, i’m so nervous. i can’t look.” tom dips his head down so yours is blocking his view. you lightheartedly roll your eyes. “it’s fine, tom. i’m sure we’ll-“ the screen changes to display your compatibility rating, you cutting yourself off. he slowly creeps out from behind you.

“oh, god. are they in? what’s it say?” tom grabs onto your waist, feeling vibrations from you giggling. you shake your head at the website. “it’s really good... almost a perfect match. told you we’re meant to be.” he joins in your laughter, an endless amount of kisses going down the side of your head. “now, it’s written in the stars. we’re untouchable!”

he’s flipping you over so he lays above you, lips colliding messily with yours for the millionth time today. you don’t mind, though. you could do this a million more. “a power couple,” you continue for him between another peck of his lips. “always have been,” tom corrects and shuts you up again with his mouth on yours.

your hand reaches up for him, but doesn’t make it as the passionate kiss he’s giving you takes your breath away. he locks your fingers together instead, whispering one last thing.

“always will be.”

[sauntervaguelydown]

Hey I've been following ur tumblr for like a few years less than a decade at this point- you were one of the first blogs i followed when i was like 13/14 and i followed you specifically cus of hannapoc. It was really seminal for me and i really loved it. If you feel so inclined, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the series on the whole. Like, what you think of it at this time. If you have anything you're especially proud of or anything you regret. Any themes in it or parts of it you would want to talk about or just like general vibes. No pressure of course! I would also like to say thank you for that series- i haven't read it in a while but it really compelled me and it remains in my mental landscape as a very treasured apocalypse story as well as my personal canon end for hinabn, as no others were forthcoming and anyways i couldn't rlly picture a more compelling one than what you ended up creating. (i was especially delighted by the fey and the official and unofficial interactions between human and supernatural elements. Stuff like the moonlight accords- i think that was what those treaties hanna was helping with were called right??- and that sort of thing were rlly fascinating to me. I don't think many writers have integrated fey/folkloric races in an apoclypse genre context, i found that rlly innovative and cool.) But yeah! Please write back or if you do not, please know that the stuff you wrote made an impact to me and i still think of it.

first of all this is so sweet thank you a bunch GOD it's been a decade

second of all I LOVE talking about the stuff I've written and I'm happy to do it any time

since there's a lot here and I've never been asked about the fey thing before, I'm going to start there!

So two of my particular special interests at the time I started writing this (12th grade) were a book series about an apocalyptic event wherein all electricity & combustion stops working at the same time, and fairies. Fairies are actually more of a lifelong special interest. I got interested in a kid, and as I got older I went deeper and deeper into the lore and the fiction and the various sorts of taxonomy. I was really influenced by Charles Delint’s The Blue Girl, in terms of spooky uncomfortable modern fairy imagery.  I really liked the idea of there being… like taxonomical classification scheme that encompassed all of the supernatural world, like in Artemis Fowl but more amorphous and less biologically mundane. You can see in “Up in Smoke” how it’s really a lot of things I was interested in at the time—Fight Club, governmental collapse, supernatural taxonomy, magic theory—that form the bones of the plot.

I liked the idea of humans being the “sun” people and supernatural beings being the “moon” people, and that was probably from a desire to do the “mud people” thing from Artemis Fowl but, again, more amorphous and poetic. I’m on of those people who likes to make Grand Unified Theory of Blank, so having all the monsters in HINABN canon and all the monster in folklore fit into a coherent shared schema REALLY appealed to me. Moonlight Races are creatures inherently made of and touched by magic. Sunlight races, humans and our pets and livestock, are not.

Early in the process I remember asking myself why, if fey and monsters are real, we don’t see them in the modern day. And some other fiction writers I had been reading at that time suggested that the actual pollution in the air was steel and fire and fairies Hate That so right now the whole world is kind of poisonous to them. I remember sitting at my desk at my first job and drawing charts on notepads describing which creatures went into which family, genus, species. I remember I found the shadow people by going down a Wikipedia rabbit hole looking for things that COULD be fey but aren’t necessarily considered that by people talking about them.

Before I wrote Hannapocalypse, I wrote a different 30 chapter apocalypse au of JTHM based very strictly on the book series I was obsessed with. I’m glad I got that out of my system, because it was objectively not very good, but it gave me practice with writing OCs and it gave me practice with writing fight/battle scenes, and it allowed me to scratch the need to do that EXACT apocalypse scenario. It’s all kind of fuzzy now, but I think it was some art I saw on Deviantart that got me thinking about doing an apocalypse for HINABN, and I waffled for a bit because I had already “done that”. I think I was at the perfect age to have just enough technical skill to pull it off, but not so much worldly experience to think “smoking cigarettes cures the plague” was a ridiculous idea not worth writing.  It was a very free time in my life.

When I look back on it, the aspect of it that always looms largest for me is actually Conrad’s aversion to sex. I think it’s because that’s still so uncomfortably personal. Conrad is a lot of me—when I went excavating in the canon to find his Characterization, I found a lot of myself there, and that’s what I drew out. His social anxiety, his ineptitude, his fear of sex, his attraction to the person who gives him attention even when it’s not healthy—even, probably, the bright hot moments of unleashed rage that burn away all the rest of the neuroses for one sublime moment. I mean he’s not me, first of all I’m not that witty or that snappish, but. You know. It’s still pretty personal.

I’m sort of ambivalent about it. I’m both proud of it and kind of regret it at the same time—if I think about regretting it, I end up thinking about how interesting it was instead. It’s really interesting because at first I wasn’t doing it on purpose; in my own mind I was just drawing out the will-they-won’t-they in a way that was fun to write, but the deeper we got—certainly by the time "A Christmas Story" came out, I had realized there was something going on inside ME that was making Conrad act the way he did. And that all got hashed out in the narrative as a combination of internalized homophobia and emotional wariness, so I do like what happened, but even now it still feels so personal I cringe back from it a little on automatic. If Vaysh hadn't been writing with me and able to reflect my instinctual work and resituate it in narrative, I have no idea how that would have turned out.

I’ll tell you what I really DO regret was trying to do the whole segregation + Zillah subplot at the age I was. It’s so weird that it’s THE foundational episode of the series, setting the pattern and tone for all installations written after it, and yet it’s like. Wow. Could not recommend this to anyone without a whole barrage of warnings. I was in 12th grade, I knew racism was a problem, I knew racism would be a problem IN THE SOUTH if a major disaster ever struck—and I wanted to do a cult story because religion fascinates me and there’s a cult storyline (ultimately very different) in that book series I liked—and I love girlboss villains and I wanted a Shadow King reveal at the climax—and it all came out as this wild messy strange thing that hasn’t aged well. I was REALLY excited out Zillah at the time, too! I thought she was so cool! Unfortunately I didn’t know enough not to invoke the much reviled “tragic mulato” trope at the time. On the other hand, I don’t really see how I could fix it now. It’s all tangled up to such a degree that if I tried to do surgery on it, the whole thing would just wither away.

I think more than anything I’m proud of the SIZE of the series. I don’t know where I got the JUICE from. How did I DO that. I mean, part of the trick is that I got to just write the parts I liked writing and then have Hanna handle all the parts I didn’t care about off screen lmao

Oh! I'm proud of John too! The moment when I realized he thinks of Worth as a father figure was the most satisfying experience of puzzle pieces all coming together. I love that he sucks, I love that he's funny, I love that he adds the feeling of FAMILY to the structure at the very end.

Uhhh I think that’s enough? I’ll answer more questions any time though I don’t mind

[pebblysand]

Hi!!! Happy travels! (is that thing in French or English?) soooo, I see you're going to read Evelyn Hugo, and this is my official request that when you finish it you come back here and give your opinions on it! I have A LOT of feelings/opinions about it, but I'd like to hear from you! Have a nice day!

hey anon! thank you! i don't think "happy travels" is a saying per se, but the french is "good travels", so i get what you mean <3.

okay so i'd actually started evelyn hugo this summer, and finished the rest on the plane yesterday, so i'm happy to report back! spoilers below the cut.

i gave it a 4/5 in my own little book rating system, and overall, i really, really liked it.

what i loved:

i loved how queer it was (which i wasn't expecting), but also how realistic it was in terms of queer stigma - not only with its time, but also with the film industry in general. i loved the conversation where one of them is like "elton john's been out for years" and the other one is like "yeah, elton john isn't living off his straight sex appeal though." it's kind of true. say a male-gaze beauty icon like megan fox was to come out as gay, i'm not sure she'd be as marketable, etc. so, in sum, i loved that aspect of the book. i loved the struggle everyone experiences with the sexuality, and how hard being in the closet also is, lying to everyone all the time. i thought this was great.

i also loved the way the book deals with the passage of time, and the phenomenon of getting old, especially in the public eye. i love how it blurs over whole sections of evelyn's life, in a "life just happened" sort of way, because that's also the truth, isn't it? years just pass sometimes.

i also very much loved (i think this might actually be my favourite thing about the book) how much value it puts on friendship, and chosen families, rather than biological families. i thought this was very unusual and refreshing, in adult literature. children's literature often puts a lot of value on friendship, then it all becomes about romance, and what the fuck do these people do with their friends, you know? and i felt like the relationship between harry and evelyn in this book was every bit as important as her relationship with celia, and treated with the same level of care and respect, which i very much appreciated. the fact that the happiest time in evelyn's life seems to be when they were all living in manhattan together felt so very precious. i frankly started bawling (in public, on the plane lmao) when harry died, and didn't stop until connor died. that's also perhaps something i wasn't expecting about this book. it is sad.

what i loved... less:

the reason why this book is a 4 ⭐️ and not a 5 ⭐️ is two-fold.

first, whilst it was well-written (and, if i ever manage to write an original work of fiction to this level, i will be very happy), the style didn't make me go "wow". the prose was great, it was lively and definitely enjoyable, but it didn't have the jaw-dropping factor i sometimes find in novels like incendiary or normal people. those are my five-stars, and this just wasn't to that level.

second, and most importantly, i just didn't like the end. i felt like the final reveal fell... flat? at least, for me. if the story of monique's father was going to be the front and centre of her relationship with evelyn, i would have wanted more... context? on her life, on her parents? i feel like if that was going to be The Story, then why spent all that time on her failing marriage? when the reveal happened, i was like "wait, who is james grant?" 😆. i just wasn't as shocked as i feel i should have been. i feel like this part of the story was unnecessary, didn't really answer anything, and if the gayness of her own father was going to be the question, then this reveal should have occurred maybe mid-book, and given monique more time to react to it/sort it out? idk. i just felt like the evelyn story was so beautiful and intense, it could have stood on its own, without that final reveal.

additionally, i'm a bit annoyed that nothing was said about the way that monique seemed to think moving the body in the car was Perfectly Okay until she found out the dead guy was her father, at which point she freaked? i would have loved for her to have a conversation with evelyn (or at leats it be addressed somehow) about how morally reprehensible actions against people you don't know, often feel a lot more justifiable than morally reprehensible actions against people you do know. this was totally not addressed, and it frankly pissed me off.

so yeah, overall, i really liked the book, but it had its flaws. but i'm curious, what are your thoughts? ❤️

[kolachess]

DMBJ Names and Honorifics Explained - Don’t trust the subs!

I’ve no idea if someone has already made such a post, but I really like explaining Chinese as it’s also good practice for me, so here we go.

If you are a non-Chinese speaker, you might have noticed inconsistencies in subs when referring to all the different characters. And / or that the names don’t seem to match up to the sound of the name. 

So here’s a little cultural and character guide to understanding DMBJ names.

Why are there so many names, nicknames, and honorifics for one person in a Chinese drama? To chalk this all up to nicknames is... grossly over-simplifying things. The thing with names / honorifics is very rooted in Chinese culture itself. Chinese culture is one heavily indexed on relations and hierarchy, so depending on your place in the ‘hierarchy’, whether it’s society or family, you will refer to each other as different things. As an example to illustrate complexity, where in English, ‘uncle’ refers to all male siblings of either of your parents, in Chinese, your father’s younger brother is addressed differently from your father’s older brother and also different from your mother’s brother. 

Chinese names and translation to English - Space? No space? Hyphens? Last name first?

So Chinese is a pictographic language. Each ‘character’ is one word, and one syllable exactly. Hence, you don’t need spaces or hyphens or anything in Chinese. Spaces and hyphens when romanized are purely for English speakers’ convenience. 

For example, in Chinese, the names would be written as wuxie, wusanxing, wangpangzi, etc. (And no such thing as capitalization either.) As a general rule of thumb, because for documentation purposes, the surname is separated out, Chinese people generally end up writing the given name all smushed together even if they are 2 words.

And yes, the surname always goes first. Other way is just... weird. Never happens.

Can you space out two words of a given name? Sure I suppose. Probably less seen.

As for hyphens with honorifics... sure? I’m not sure if smush together or hyphen is more official actually... 

What are Chinese names? How do people pick a name?

Unlike English names, Chinese people compose their names. Which means... you can have anything from names that have literary eloquence and deeper meaning，like ‘Wu Xie’, where ‘Wu’ is homonymous with ‘Without’ and ‘Xie’ means ‘Evil’, so Wu Xie’s name carries the meaning of ‘no evil’...

...to names that have little to no deep meaning and sometimes downright stupid sounding, like ‘Wang Pangzi’ which does indeed translate to Wang Fatty lol.

That’s why if you ask Chinese people to provide common Chinese names, they’ll stare at you blankly. Of course, that’s not to say there aren’t some popular names, given people sometimes name themselves after famous people and there are plenty of generic ones as well.

But this is also why, when meeting for the first time, you might hear a lot of people explaining how their name is written (i.e. with which word), because there are a looooot of homonymous words and it’s impossible to tell how write someone’s name without them ‘spelling it out’.

How do Chinese people call each other by name?

Most Chinese names (surname + given name) will form 2-3 syllables (very rarely there will be 4). 

General rule of thumb:

- Using someone’s full name is always generally acceptable (not to be confused with addressing them... that’s a whole different game).

- You never refer to someone with one syllable. Which means if their given name is only one syllable, you pretty much always say both surname + given name together (Hence why Wu Xie is always Wu Xie and never ‘Xie’). If their given name is two syllables, you might call them by given name only if you’re familiar. 

Of course, there are tons of ways to give people nicknames (more explanation below), so you might end up only using one syllable of someone’s name, but in conjunction with another prefix / suffix of sorts.

So yes, the subs say ‘Zhang’ for Zhang Qiling but that’s BS no one has ever referred to him as simply ‘Zhang’. And for that matter, no one ever refers to him as simply Qiling either, though that’s more out of habit than any rules of names. And finally, they rarely refer to him as Zhang Qiling at all... more explanation below.

Basic ‘prefix’ / ‘suffix’ / ‘honorific’ introductions relevant for DMBJ

These aren’t really prefixes and suffixes and honorifics. They’re simply words. But for sake of simplicity, let’s just treat them as that.

-ye (sounds like ‘yeah’) = ‘Grandpa’ of the generic ‘old man’ sense, but also ‘master’ or ‘lord’ to indicate status / respect. 

Example usage: Wu Sanxing (Wu Xie’s third uncle) - People like Pan Zi call him Sanye, which means ‘Third Master’. 

It can also be casually used by someone to refer to themselves in third person and indicate their ‘prowess’. Again, due to Chinese cultural relations, there’s a lot of emphasis on hierarchy, so people often humorously refer to themselves in third person with a title of more seniority (’this ancestor’ or ‘this old miss’). 

Example usage: Pangzi always referring to himself as Pangye. ‘Make way, Pangye is coming in clutch with the bombs!’.

-shu (sounds more like ‘soo’) = ‘Uncle’. This can be an uncle related, or not. 

Example usage: Wu Sanxing (Wu Xie’s third uncle). Wu Xie and his peers will generally call him Sanshu, because they’re of the same generation and need to call Sanshu with some level of respect. Of course, Sanye is also respectful, so certainly Pangzi can call him Sanye. But Pangzi calling him Wu Sanxing would be disrespectful. (Zhang Qiling on the other hand, technically can call him whatever since he’s the oldest haha).

-ayi (sounds like ‘ah-yee’) = ‘Aunt’. Similar as uncle. 

Example usage: Chen Wenjing (in Ultimate Note, Sanshu’s former girlfriend). You’ll notice Wu Xie addressed her as Wenjing-ayi. Of course, since she was a bit less familiar with them, and wasn’t always around, he and others will refer to her as simply Chen Wenjing... it’s complicated. The nuances of when it’s ok to leave off the suffix is an art form lol.

-ge (sounds like ‘guh’) = ‘older brother’. Can also be related or not. Can be used alone, or doubled up (which tends to be cuter).

Example usage: Huo Xiuxiu refers to Wu Xie as ‘Wu Xie-gege’ and Xie Yuchen as ‘Xiao Hua-gege’. Pangzi told Yun Cai (the girl he crushed on) to call him ‘Pangge’. And yes! This is the ‘ge’ in Xiaoge. More explanation below.

Xiao (sounds like ‘shall’) = ‘Small’ or ‘Little’. This is often used in creating a nickname and used first before a name.

Example usage: Wu Xie’s second uncle will refer to him as ‘Xiao Xie’. Wu Xie refers to Xie Yuchen as ‘Xiao Hua’, which translates to ‘Little Flower’ and is a nickname based off his stage name, Jie Yuhua. And yes! This is the ‘xiao’ in Xiaoge. More explanation below (because translating it as ‘little older brother’ makes no sense I know).

Lao (sounds like ‘lao’ lol) = ‘Old’. Similar usage as ‘xiao’.

Example usage: I think I remember Granny Huo perhaps referring to Wu Laogou (Wu Xie’s grandfather) as ‘Lao Wu’?  But also, yes, his actual name has that word too.

Numbers - Numbers are very commonly used in nicknames.

Er (sounds like ‘are’) = Two / Second.

San (sounds like ‘san’ lol idk) = Three / Third.

Hence why Wu Xie refers to his uncles as ‘Sanshu’ and ‘Ershu’. (And yes, their names themselves also conveniently carry the numbers...)

You’ll never say ‘one’ though. Instead, ‘da’ or big / large is used.

Names of the characters

Wow so only after all that can we begin to explain the many names... Let’s begin.

Wu Xie - Wu Xie is actually the most straightforward thank god. Most people will call him this, Zhang Qiling included.

AKA Tianzhen or even Xiao Tianzhen - This is nickname provided Pangzi gave him meaning ‘naive’ or ‘innocent’, and what Pangzi calls him most if not all the time. There’s a phrase in Chinese too called ‘tianzhenwuxie’ to mean innocent, carefree, and pure. The ‘wu’ there is a different but homonymous word with Wu Xie’s ‘Wu’, but the meaning and reference is clear (Chinese has looooots of homonyms and puns). This is also why that phrase ‘My lifetime, in exchange for you a decade of innocence and purity.’ from Zhang Qiling to Wu Xie is so heart-wrenching, because those last four Chinese words are ‘tianzhenwuxie’, a poetic play on his two names. 😭 

AKA Xiao Xie - Called by his second uncle, Wu Erbai

AKA Da Zhizi - Called by his third uncle, meaning ‘big nephew’. ‘Da’ here just means the oldest really. Wu Xie is Wu Sanxing’s oldest (but also only) nephew. And ‘nephew’ here too specifically refers to the son of your brother.

AKA Xiao Sanye - Called by Pan Zi, Bai Haotian (from Lost Tomb Reboot). Sanye here is in reference to how he dogs his third uncle’s footsteps all the time. And he’s the younger version so... there.

AKA Laoban or Wu-laoban - Called by Wang Meng, business partners because laoban means ‘boss’.

Zhang Qiling - Whew OK honestly, I don’t think of him as ‘Zhang Qiling’ much at all, because very rarely do any of the other characters refer to him as Zhang Qiling. Most of the time it’s...

AKA Xiaoge - This is what Wu Xie and Pangzi refer to him a lot as. Xiaoge literally translates to ‘little big brother’, but that meaning is weird in English. So don’t think of it that way. Xiaoge is just a generic term for a young guy. Like... ‘lad’? Lol. But he’s all mysterious and stuff so the generic term just stuck. This is also why in Tomb of the Sea, someone referred to Li Cu as ‘xiaoge’, because he was indeed a xiaoge. But in Wu Xie’s heart, there’s only one Xiaoge. ❤️

AKA Menyouping - The name of this ship! Pingxie! This is what Wu Xie referred to him mostly as in his first POV novel. It means ‘stuffy oil bottle’ and communicates the sentiment of ‘poker face’ or just someone with no expressions.

Note on Zhang Qiling: This name is actually a title rather than a name. Qiling is the title given to the Zhang patriarch responsible for handling the spirits of their ancestors... eh it’s complicated and warrants its own post if you want to know more.

Note on ‘Kylin’: I know this is what the official translations had it, but like... wtf. What, no. Like, idk what happened here, but this is a terrible mistranslation. ‘Kylin’ or ‘Qilin’ is the name of the mystical beast of which Zhang Qiling has a tattoo of, but it is two entirely different words from the ‘Qiling’. Don’t let the similarity in English spelling fool you. Completely different words. Some translator thought Kylin might market better probably. But... no. It’s just wrong. I have to do a double-take when I see people writing ‘Kylin’. Come on translators, have more faith in your English speaking audience. Fans can adapt! Don’t butcher the name for sake of marketability!

Wang Pangzi - Yes, ‘Fatty’ is the accurate translation haha. Most people refer to him as Pangzi, including Wu Xie and Zhang Qiling.

AKA Pangye - Referred to by Pangzi himself, but also sometimes people who are trying to suck up to Pangzi.

AKA Pangge - Referred to by his love interests.

Wu Sanxing - Wu Xie’s third uncle. See, I don’t even know what to call him by default because I’m not sure what the subs tend to say. 

AKA Sanshu - Wu Xie and his friends will call him this.

AKA Sanye - Pan Zi and other people in the industry will call him this.

Hei Yanjing - Again, I’ve no idea which name to use as his primary. Translates literally to ‘sunglasses’. Not technically ‘black sunglasses because that’s redundant’. See, even the spacing between his name here is unnecessary because this isn’t his official name, only a nickname. I don’t think we have his real name. But this version is generally called by most others I think?

AKA Hei Xiazi - This means ‘black blind person’, and is what Xiaoge refers to him as... and some others.

AKA Heiye - Just a more respectful reference. Called by Xie Yuchen.

Xie Yuchen - Called by Xiaoge and others less familiar.

Jie Yuhua - His stage name.

Xiao Hua - Called by Wu Xie, as it’s a nickname built off of his stage name.

Huaye - Called by Hei Yanjing and Pangzi, but more so out of humorous flattery than anything. 

.

.

Whew that was a lot. Just be glad this isn’t MDZS where people had courtesy names on top of all these names... I think I’ll stop there, but feel free to shoot me any questions about other characters!

[skiyoosmi]

if fate permits

chapter twenty

a taste of his own medicine

previous < masterpost > next

“Hey… uhm… I’m sorry. I’m not sure where to start because I’ve been the worst friend to ya for the past weeks. But I want to start with an apology, I guess… yer probably tired of hearing it, right? … it’s something I’ll never gonna be proud of, my pettiness, I mean… but yeah… I’m sorry, YN. I hope ya believe me when I say yer impo–”

Beep! You sighed, ending yet another voicemail from Atsumu. It’s been almost a week since you and your brother moved out of the apartment and ever since the day after that, your soulmate has yet to cease dropping more than three voicemails every single day.

It wasn’t that you haven’t caught sight of him at school; in fact, you see him everywhere. It’s just so happens that you couldn’t help but avoid him like a plaque. You think he knows it though and you’re actually glad that he’s trying to respect your space (except for the endless ringing of your phone which only gets sent straight to voicemail every time, much like today). Which is why right now, you only stared at his contact, contemplating whether you will entertain his ‘apology.’ He sounds like he regrets it, after all and the fact that you only have less than 10 days before your flight wasn’t helping the situation.

“You know, if you keep having a soft heart like that, I’m betting a hundred bucks you won’t get too far once you become a famous writer. A lot of people will take advantage of you, you know. And don’t even get me started with those haters that disguise themselves as critiques,” Speaking of the devil, Kiyoomi suddenly spoke up, his figure leaning against the doorway of your room, much like the pose your father had when you were leaving your previous apartment.

Hundred bucks, you begin to think, where the hell would your jobless ass get a hundred bucks? You won’t tell him that verbally, of course; you value your life too much to even risk being strangled by your brother’s own hands.

“What do you mean soft heart? Where’d you even get the idea that I’m going to talk to him, doofus!? No way, he needs to learn his lesson,” You huffed, turning to him with an eyebrow raised, as if challenging him. He scoffed, entering your room, and sitting on your bed. You were kind of surprised he did given that your room was still messy as hell; but once again, you opted to keeping your mouth shut.

“It’s written all over your face, dear sister. Plus, you’ve said that a million times already I’m actually tired of hearing it now. After all these years, you think I don’t memorize every habit you have?” He replied, hands taking some of the clothes that were still stored in a brown carton and beginning to fold them neatly before standing up and putting it into your closet. He really does take after your father, from appearances to characteristics, “Your eyes, they speak to me the loudest, telling me every bit of your feelings. In fact, I’m kind of puzzled Atsumu never found out through them. But then again, it just supports the truth that he’s as dumb as he could get.”

This boy doesn’t really miss a chance to voice out his disfavor for your soulmate, huh? You wonder what is it that made him dislike… no, wait dislike was an underestimation… rather, loath Atsumu to the core. Bad first impression? No, your brother was not that petty. Did they have a fight you never knew about? If Atsumu and him ever fought, you were sure as hell you’d be the first one to know, seeing as your best friend practically whines and complains at you at every single thing in his life… so why?

“He hurt you and not just once. It’s not supposed to be my business but technically speaking, you are my sister before you were his soulmate and that’s all I needed to dislike him,” said Kiyoomi, continuing to fold your clothes as if what he said was practically nothing. Was he a mind-reader? You don’t know but perhaps, you could try to convince him to start up a fortune-telling business with you and earn millions.

“… You’re so creepy, ‘Yoomi,” You spoke up after a few moments of silence while he sneered, obviously not pleased with your comical reply, “Forget it! God, it’s so hard to have a serious talk with you.”

You only pursed your lips before bursting out into laughter, making him glare at you before his eyes softened. He hasn’t heard that pure laughter in a long time, after all. For some odd reason, he is proud that it was him that made you happy again like that, even for just a short while. After watching you work on something he doesn’t really know what, probably for the play, (it’s a relief you still have a smile on your face while you were on it though), he stands up, stopping by the doorway again when he heard you speak, “Thanks for being there, ‘Yoomi. Can’t imagine my life without my best brother.”

Kiyoomi knows he’s far from being the best brother in the world; he wasn’t expressive, sweet nor overprotective… but hearing those words from you means he’s at least good and somehow, he’s fine with that. He remains quiet before saying, “You know, your friend Hajime, I think he’s nice.”

He doesn’t say anything more, but he knows that his words reached you; he didn’t miss the way you blushed, after all. He takes note of making you flustered more often.

Osamu grumbles under his breath in annoyance, clenching then unclenching his hands as he watched Yui cling onto his brother’s arm like there was no tomorrow. Doesn’t this girl have any decency left in her blood? They were in the public cafeteria of the university, good heavens! And they haven’t even officially became soulmates AND a couple.

The last thing he wanted on his agenda today was to become a third wheel, much less to his brother; and the fact that it’s not even with you, the true soulmate, his favorite Sakusa (he won’t let Kiyoomi know that though), and best drinking buddy, makes it more unbearable for the gray-haired lad. He could only scowl so hard at his twin, who on the other hand, remained unmoved. At least that’s what Osamu sees but unbeknownst to him, Atsumu just wishes he could go and find you as soon as possible.

He has had enough of you averting your gaze each time you catch each other’s eyes at the theater room. According to his brother, your flight is in ten days which means he only had a few more days to make your friendship right; to make it up to you and prove that you are, indeed, an important figure in his life (cue Osamu’s mocking last night when they talked: “HAH!? You sure do have a peculiar way of showing her that she’s important. You’re making me want to laugh and choke you at the same time.”)

“Oh! Iwaizumi-kun, Tooru and… Sakusa YN?” Yui trails off, making the blonde perk up at the sound of your name, turning his body quickly only to find you already looking back at them with… disappointed eyes? As quickly as it came, it disappeared and soon, you were smiling and waving at Osamu, completely ignoring your “best” friend. Atsumu can only stare at you in disbelief; never, not even once, had you disregarded his existence like that before. Even when you had small arguments, you made sure to acknowledge him with a simple nod.

In addition to your indifference, Hajime only furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at Yui’s greeting, as if he doesn’t know Yui at all, not even as an acquaintance. Hence, the three of you only proceeded to the table Makki, Mattsun and your brother saved for you.

“Eh? Iwaizumi… ignored me?” Yui frowned, obviously not used to being disregarded by the boy who used to give her a greeting every time they come across each other. As far as she could remember, they ended their bond in good terms, without anyone having to feel angry at the other so why is it that he acted that way? Did he hold a grudge after all?

Meanwhile, Atsumu gazed into nothing, your sad eyes flashing into his mind and staying there. Have you given up on him already? Did his nightmare that day actually came true? His trail of thoughts was cut off with Osamu’s voice speaking with amusement plastered on his face, “ooh, a taste of his own medicine, huh YN?”

He smirks, finding his brother’s suffering oddly satisfying. He too, like Kiyoomi, has his limits as to Atsumu’s undesired talent of hurting you (he knows the blonde was also suffering but you know, it just really gets on his nerves how blind his twin could get). So right after saying that, he stands up, picking up his tray that holds his food and beginning to walk where your table was.

“Samu! Where are you going?” The said lad looks back at his blonde twin weirdly before shrugging, “YN and Kiyoomi’s table, where else? You can’t expect me to stay on the table with you two, it’s weird.”

“So… you really can’t remember anything about your soulmate? Like who it is or something?” Oikawa asked, staring at Hajime’s hands, as if he’d be able to see anything on his pinky. Unfortunately for him, the ex-captain was not given the ability to be a Moira so he wouldn’t be able to see any changes no matter how long or hard he looks. The spiky-haired lad merely groans, feeling a headache coming due to his dear friend’s pestering, “Yes. I told you that already. I just woke up, saw my thread black and now, I can’t remember anything about who it is.”

“But you can remember us? It’s just the soulmate stuff you forgot?”

“Well, I’m talking to you right now, am I not, you dumbass?” Hajime snarled; an inch close to punching his best friend in the face. Beside him, you look down, feeling the sadness and heartbreak for him because even those feelings were lost the moment he woke up. If you let go of Atsumu, will this also happen to you? You can only give a pathetic laugh at your silly question; of course, it will. You weren’t some kind of special Moira that will be exempted from that ‘curse.’ But you wonder, how would he react? Would he be sad? Or would he just forget about you too and just throw everything you had away? It seems so easy for him to do that, after all.

Now that you witness what’s gonna happen upon cutting the thread, a part of you somehow wishes you should’ve just told him when it was still early, when you were still young and problem-free. Maybe he would’ve given you a promise like those in the movies wherein he says he would marry you once you get older. Maybe he would’ve been able to love you if you could’ve just given him a chance to do so. But it’s your fault, isn’t it? Because you were a coward; you were so greedy for true love that you can no longer have it, you think to yourself.

In the midst of your rather negative thoughts, a warm hand pulls you away from mentally beating up yourself further. Looking up, you find Hajime looking at you with soft eyes, as if assuring your heart that: “You’ll be fine. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.”

Maybe… just maybe, the universe has given you another chance for true love.

marga's notes. I HAVE FOUND A NEW HUSBAND AND HIS NAME'S BENIMARU SHINMON

taglist is closed

[maxwell-grant]

May I please ask where you set the boundaries when constructing a crossover? (i.e. How far are you willing to bend characterisation of the setting a character's adventures take place in and of the individual characters themselves to make this crossover work? How many settings are you actually prepared to smush together before you feel you're losing more than you gain in this mix? and so forth).

I could be off the mark here, but this question sounds like you yourself got a very big idea planned but you are unsure of how far you can, or want to, push the concept. Two words of advice upfront: 1: Stop overthinking it, and 2: Run your ideas by people whose judgment you know and trust. I run some of my biggest and stupidest ideas by friends of mine and they help me make them less stupid or at least stupider but in a better way.

I mentioned in my post about potential Shadow crossovers that "boundaries" are not the priority to fret over so much as having a good working knowledge of the characters. And part of that is because a crossover, by design, already constitutes the breaking of boundaries. That's by default what a crossover does. You don't wanna test or break boundaries, then you picked the wrong kind of story.

A crossover is still a story like any other. Two characters meeting is not a story, it's a premise. You don't start a story by defining where it can't go, before you've even decided where you want to take it. Some boundaries are important, others aren't. Some boundaries are hard-coded and unbreakable, and others HAVE to be broken for the story to work, and the process of deciding which is which is easier when you have a clearer idea of what are the characters and what is the story you want to tell, and what you can and can't do with either. You gotta understand the properties you're working with, or at least, understand WHY you want to work with them and make this crossover happen in the first place.

For example, you could, very easily, write a crossover between The Shadow and The Spider, just by going through the motions. They are urban vigilantes with fairly similar designs who live in the same time period and fight crime with their supporting casts. I'm sure most writers offered the job wouldn't think twice of putting them together. But as someone who's read their stories quite extensively and who likes and obsesses over both characters, I would not cross over the two, because their stories and characters are fundamentally incompatible with each other in a more "serious" narrative, and you could not merge the two without seriously fraying one or the other.

It's a story that doesn't work, with characters that are not supposed to function together or in each other's narrative real estate, even with a character as malleable as The Shadow. This doesn't mean that it's impossible to write a good Shadow and Spider crossover, but to me, personally, these two are hard-line incompatible. That is, if it's a crossover based specifically on these two, because that changes if said crossover expands to more characters, as I'll get into.

Regarding the question:

How far are you willing to bend characterisation of the setting a character's adventures take place in and of the individual characters themselves to make this crossover work?

By default, any crossover is already going to have to create new settings from scratch based on relevant bits and pieces from the properties in question, so you do get more leeway for bending it.

But regarding characters, it's a question that cannot have a unified answer, because it's even more so dependant on a case-by-case basis. You could argue "only as much as necessary for the story to work", sure, but that's not really a good answer, because a story can do anything it's author wants to, and sometimes the story is not good to begin with, or the characters are just not made for being in the same narrative or even partaking in a crossover to begin with.

No amount of justifications for a story or characterization can excuse an unsatisfying result. Joe Yabuki and Guts are two of my favorite manga protagonists, but there would be no point to even attempting to put them together in the same story, because you'd have to twist either their narratives or their characters past the point of recognizability, which defeats the purpose of making a crossover to begin with.

Like, yeah, we've all heard the argument that Zack Snyder's Superman makes sense in the context of his movies, doing his own thing. Sure. But there's a reason any discussion of that character in the context of Superman in general comes prefaced with "Zack Snyder's" first, and why mainstream audiences who earnestly looked forward to Batman V Superman walked away feeling cheated, because, to borrow RLM terms here, they got "MurderMan vs Captain Hypocrite", and you can't even tell which is which in that description. You gotta give audiences at least a bit of what you promised them.

How many settings are you actually prepared to smush together before you feel you're losing more than you gain in this mix?

This one actually DOES depend on the story, because most stories that aren't just short narratives require multiple settings for it's scenes. Chances are your narrative will already be combining multiple settings, because setting is a word that can refer to "Korea during the Joseon dynasty", "spaceship traveling through lost nebulas" and "the McDonalds parking lot", as if they are the same thing. And in a way, when you look at a narrative's bones, they basically are.

To an extent, I think opening yourself up for a massive crossover of multiple properties of different characters and settings can, indeed, be a better choice than just going off purely by X meets Y. You start off by making it very clear to the audience that the boundaries are thin and you will be breaking them, and you use said framework to instead tell a myriad of stories, big and small. Stories that you couldn't really tell if you stuck to an existing framework or defined strongly the boundaries you can't cross. I'm gonna use Smash Bros as an example:

Smash Bros is arguably the biggest "official" crossover of all time, and it doesn't really have a "story" other than the basic framework that the series was built on, that these were representations of Nintendo icons dueling it out, and the few details that used to define this in the older days (like the characters being trophies and copies, and not the real deal) have been basically pushed aside. The most story you get in Smash nowadays is in the form of what the trailers showThe "point" of Smash was never really to tell a big, dramatic story with these characters. And maybe you really can't tell this kind of story, or a good story, with this many characters to juggle.

But they tried it once.

I'm sure most of you who do remember Brawl, as anything other than the blistering shame of the franchise that it's treated as these days, remember it mainly because of Subspace Emissary, which was this big, dramatic storyline where the end of the world was at stake and all the characters had to pull their weight to fight it. Subspace didn't have dialogue, it didn't have much story other than characters going from scene to scene while fighting, several of the characters either got nothing to do or were written poorly (mostly Wario), and none of this mattered at all, because Subspace, I'd argue, was the one and only time Smash Bros ever really recaptured that childhood feeling of smashing toys together that the franchise was built on.

Because if you remember being a kid smashing toys together, you remember not just doing it because you wanted Max Steel to kick Cobra Commander's butt. No, you did it because you wanted to tell a story where Max Steel got trapped in a rapidly filling water tank along with He-Man's Battle Cat while Cobra Commander kidnapped Max's girlfriend April O'Neil and bombed the city, and Max Steel had to talk Battle Cat into not eating him so they could together save the city and April from evil, and so they reconciled their differences and saved the day. Those things mattered to you. They were the stories you could tell with the resources you had in hand, sagas you did for the sheer fun of it, regardless of whether they were "good", you probably didn't even think of that. Why would you? You had bigger things to do.

And that's what Subspace did. It was big and dramatic and the world was at stake and all these heroes were coming together. Ness sacrificing himself to Wario so Lucas could have a chance to run away. Diddy Kong dragging along seasoned Star Fox pilots to rescue his buddy. Samus and Pikachu forming a bond. Peach stopping a deadly battle just by offering tea. ROB's story arc culminating in actual genocide, hell, ROB having a story arc to begin with. To a lot of people who played Brawl as one of their first games, this would have been their "introduction" to a lot of these characters in any sort of narrative, and to characters like ROB or Ice Climbers, this would have been the only chance they would ever get to be part of a great big dramatic narrative. Hell, Pit sure looked like he was on the same boat at the time, until Smash brought the Kid Icarus franchise back from death, and now Smash is where characters or properties get to stay relevant or at least on life support (Captain Falcon), or make glorious comebacks (King K.Rool). Brawl was what destroyed the idea of there being boundaries as to who could get in Smash or what kind of story could be told within it.

And people don't seem to recall this nowadays, but Brawl was when Smash exploded in fan content, specifically inspired by Subspace. This was the period of the Machinima craze and the fan mods galore and fan remixes and fan art and fan headcanons and fan films, and suddenly it hit people that, just because the games couldn't accomodate the stories they could tell with the premise, didn't mean that they couldn't start telling them on their own. We even got the formerly longest piece of English fiction off of it. The devotion Melee inspired in competitive players, Brawl did for artists and creators who got their start off in Smash fan content.

And because of it, suddenly a lot more people started writing stories with ROB and Ice Climbers and Pit and Captain Falcon and so on than there would have ever been if it wasn't for Brawl and Subspace. Smash gave ROB a story the character likely would have never gotten otherwise. And if you don't grasp what I'm getting at because you still think that fan content is a long way from being "official" or at least respectable, I don't know what you're doing following someone who rants about pulp fiction all day.

The point I want to get across is, boundaries in a crossover are important, yes, they exist for a good reason, but the boundaries should be defined by the story and characters and whatnot, not the other way around. Boundaries in fiction exist to be crossed or tested, they exist to tell you where you can't go so you can try to do so anyway and either fly high or crash.

Sometimes, bending or twisting characters and settings can be both a grave sin, as well as the thing that allows them to survive. Sometimes there are rules that seem unbreakable until someone breaks them without trying. And sometimes, going big and stupid and carefree over-the-top is either the worst, or the best outcome. It's fiction, taking risks and having fun is part of it.

So I'm afraid I thankfully cannot give your question a universal answer.

[wondernimbus]

a drop in the ocean — sirius black

pairing: sirius black x female!reader

summary: sirius teaches reader that love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

warnings: cheating, swearing

a/n: this was inspired by the song “a drop in the ocean” by ron pope! this is a little different from what i'm used to since the overall theme is a lot more ??? mature ?? i guess ?? i kind of stepped out of my comfort zone with this but i hope you guys like it :')

It's bizarre how much pain can change you.

You become this entirely different person. You look the same on the surface, but somewhere deep inside you, you're someone else. You're stronger. Everything that has happened to you—all the tears you've shed, the people who have hurt you, the pain you've endured—all of them shapes you into something more. Something better.

And one day, you will wake up, look back at everything that you have endured, and you will smile. And it will feel like the puzzle pieces of the world have fallen back into place again—and maybe it's been that way for a long time. Maybe you've come so far in terms of healing and you're only just now starting to notice.

[Y/N] [Y/L/N] wakes up one summer morning, when the sun is warm and promise of a new day looms above her head. She swings her legs over her bed, pads over to the window in the corner of the room where sunshine filters through, draws the curtains open. Here she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and just—

Remembers.

And this time, it doesn't hurt anymore.

—

Sirius Black was a charmer.

He wasn't just handsome; he was attractive. He knew exactly how to get people to swoon over him without laying it on too thick. He'd send a quick glance over anyone's way—one that made them feel as though they were the only person on earth he could see—and that person would fall.

They'd want him, fooling themselves into the belief that they were different. That they were special in a way that none of Sirius Black's previous flings were.

They'd end up with their hearts broken, of course. Shattered to bits and left at their feet for them to clean up on their own, because Sirius just couldn't bother.

It would happen within a month or two. Some much less.

But [Y/N] lasted the longest.

She was in Ravenclaw, and had caught Sirius's eye in her sixth year. She wishes she could say that she was different—that she hadn't fallen for him the moment he'd gone up to her in the Great Hall and steered her away from her friends, asking for her name—but she wasn't. She'd taken one look at Sirius's eyes, seen what seemed like genuine sincerity in them, and felt her sixteen-year-old heart doing odd little flips inside of her chest against her will.

Sirius Black liked her.

It took a month before he asked her out. Made it, as some would say, "official". A part of [Y/N] knew that it wouldn't last long, but she would enjoy this—enjoy him—while she still had him. She'd never felt this way for anyone before, and despite her brain telling her that Sirius Black was trouble, her heart said otherwise.

A month together turned into two. And three, and then four, five, and suddenly the rest of Hogwarts was wondering when Sirius planned to break things off with her.

[Y/N] wondered it, too. But Sirius still looked at her the same way he had done all those months ago when he'd asked for her name, like she was everything in the world he'd been hoping for—like she was different. Like he actually held real feelings for her and not just the kind you try out one second and then get bored of the next.

She wanted to believe that look in his eyes, but she'd heard the rumors. and on top of that there were her friends' warnings, telling her that Sirius was no good for her and that he would break her heart one way or the other.

One day, while they sat at the balcony of Ravenclaw tower during one of the many times she'd snuck Sirius into the common room, she glanced at him.

They were sitting on the floor facing each other, legs crossed underneath them. Sirius's hands were in her own; her fingers played with the rings decorating his, turning them over and over.

"I like this one," she murmured, her touch lingering on the silver one on his middle finger. It was elegant, contrasting beautifully with his pale skin, simple and with what looked like a crest emblazoned on the middle. She looked up at him and found him looking at her—gaze intense and yet somehow also gentle, like he was memorizing every last detail of her face and committing them to memory. Softly, she asked, "Does it mean anything?"

Sirius made a small sound of confirmation, eyes leaving hers to look down at the ring, watching as her fingers grazed over it. "Yeah," he said quietly, blinking, lashes dusting pale cheeks before he was looking up at her again. It took a while for the rest of his words to get out of his mouth; he looked as though he was in deep thought, watching her with something unreadable dancing just behind his eyes.

And then Sirius was clearing his throat, shifting on where he sat. When he spoke next, his voice was oddly soft. Sincere. (And again [Y/N] found herself wondering: are you pretending?)

Because it was during moments like these that made her think that what Sirius felt for her was real.

"It's from, uh," he cleared his throat again, and [Y/N] didn't fail to notice the sudden rigidness of his shoulders. His gaze was skittering away, looking instead at the scenery below them instead of at her. "It's from James's family. The Potters. I.. ran away from my family, see, about a year ago."

As [Y/N] listened to him speak, watched as his eyes grew hard and he swallowed with difficulty, she realized—this was something important to him. He wouldn't lie about this just to get closer to her; he was laying part of himself bare to her that very few people had ever seen.

"They took me in," Sirius said quietly, still not quite looking at her. "When I had nowhere else to go, they let me stay over at their place. And that same Christmas, they gave me this ring to.. welcome me to their family, I guess." Emotion tugged his lips upwards at the corners. "I'm grateful for them," he told her, nodding a little to himself, and then he was looking up at her, meeting her eyes.

He was relieved to see that there wasn't any sympathy in them. just—and Sirius found it suddenly very hard to breathe—love. Pure, unadulterated love.

"You deserve to be happy," she told him, tone just as soft as the gentle smile on her lips. She pressed her palm into his, fingers slipping into the spaces between his own and squeezing. He squeezed back, still staring at her, and wondered if his lungs had forgotten to stop breathing.

[Y/N] leaned in, lips feather-light in how they ghosted over his cheek, and then she was pulling away, and Sirius's heart was doing something weird inside his chest. "I'm happy you're in a better place now."

Sirius couldn't breathe.

He surged forward, capturing his lips in her own, and at that moment both of them knew this was different; it felt different, more than just a press of the lips, more than just a kiss. Sirius pried her lips apart with his own, taking his sweet, gentle time, and it shot sparks across his body like he'd never felt before. They kissed slow like melted honey, tender and thorough and just a little overwhelming, and Sirius was dizzy with it—he felt like he was drowning.

He was drowning, but he loved every second of it.

—

A few months turned into a year, then two, and before anyone knew it, they were graduating. And still, as they left the gates of Hogwarts to venture out into the world waiting for them, Sirius and [Y/N] were still together. It went against everyone's expectations—and truthfully, [Y/N]'s own—but it made her happy, being with him. and she could only hope that she made him just as happy as he did to her.

They moved into a flat of their own in the outskirts of London. It wasn't anything grand, but it was cozy and clean and it only took a few months for the building to become something of a home to both of them.

[Y/N] loved every moment she spent with Sirius. All their shared smiles, their little, subtle moments of intimacy, the fleeting kisses, waking up in the morning with him by her side—everything.

She loved him so much that it hurt.

Three years into their relationship, as she lay in bed with Sirius, their entire bedroom dark and quiet save for both of their rhythmic breathing, she told him.

"I love you," she whispered into the skin of his shoulder. His arm was draped lazily around her, and she was curled up at his side—and everything about it was painfully familiar. The way his chest rose and fell. The way he stroked at her hair. How he shifted down just the tiniest bit to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

She loved Sirius so much that she didn't even realize—or maybe didn't care—that he never said it back.

—

Maybe it was something that was just ingrained into him. There could have been a million other reasons that all pointed to it not being her fault, but still, for the longest time, she believed that it was.

Sirius was seeing someone else, and he wasn't doing a very good job at hiding it.

One of her friends had told her that they'd seen Sirius in Diagon Alley with another woman at his side. [Y/N] had been angry, but not at Sirius—no, she'd lashed out at her friend, calling her a liar, saying that Sirius would never do something like that.

It's bizarre, the things you do for love. how much you hurt yourself in the process.

Only a week later, she found a letter tucked into the pocket of one of Sirius's coats. It was addressed to a name she did not recognize, and written underneath it were sweet, sweet words that [Y/N] could remember Sirius telling her once or twice before.

you make it hard for me to breathe

everything about you drives me absolutely mad

meet me tomorrow night at the leaky cauldron and

[Y/N] stopped reading. Her hands were shaking too badly; the letter fell from her hands and onto the floor. There was bile rising in the back of her throat.

Her knees went weak underneath her. She leaned on the bed for support—the same bed they'd laid in just this morning, the same bed he'd murmured the very same things written in that blasted letter—

"Oh, God." She let out a ragged, broken sound, hands clutching at her own chest as though it would help ease the pain. She couldn't breathe. "Fuck. Fuck."

[Y/N]  didn't know why, but when Sirius came back home that night, claiming that he'd gone over to James and Lily to say hi, she didn't bring up the letter right away.

"How's Lily?" she asked, not looking up from where she sat on the couch, instead pretending that she was invested in a copy of the Witch Weekly magazine in her hands.

"She's doing fabulous," grinned Sirius, shrugging off his coat as he made his way over to her. "Her belly bump's getting a lot more noticeable. James is seconds away from absolutely losing it. He's always frantic—I swear he thinks the baby's going to pop out out of bloody nowhere."

[Y/N]'s senses weren't working properly. She hummed something inaudible in response. A single, painful thought was wafting around her head—a question that she now knew the answer to perfectly well.

Sirius strode over to her, draping his coat over the arm of the couch before moving around the coffee table to sit next to her. He was smiling. "But how was your day, love?" he said, and then he was leaning over, reaching out with one hand to tilt the side of her head towards him—

You're pretending. Always pretending. As soon as he made contact with her skin, she was flinching away, and Sirius knew that something was wrong.

"Is everything alright, doll?" he asked, brows furrowing into a frown of concern. His hand hovered somewhere next to her face, still, fingertips just barely ghosting her cheek.

Before Sirius knew it, [Y/N] was standing up and flinging the daily prophet onto the coffee table. There was something swimming in her eyes that he couldn't quite pinpoint, but he felt something stirring in his gut—something like realization.

Something like guilt.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding her in place. "Doll," he said softly, and to him, it sounded like damnation.

And then [Y/N] said something that made his intestines feel like they were twisting into knots—"I know," [Y/N] said, without looking at Sirius. "I know everything."

Sirius blinked.

His grip on her wrist faltered, hand falling into his lap. There was a moment of thick, heavy silence. The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped by several degrees; Sirius felt cold sweat trickle down the side of temple. The space around him suddenly didn't seem to have enough oxygen.

And yet he let out a choked laugh, if only to quell the storm within his heart. "I don't," he began. His voice was unstable. "I'm not sure what you mean."

She was making her way to the door, but her movements were hesitant, like she didn't quite want to go—or rather, she was unsure where to go. She paused halfway to it, hands curling into fists at her sides.

"Just stop," she said. Resignation etched her voice. She leaned a hand on the wall, back still turned to him as she muttered to herself, sounding as though she'd lived entire countless lifetimes and had had enough, "Stop with the lies, Sirius. I'm done."

Sirius's limbs were getting up of their own accord, approaching her where she stood. But even he knew that he wasn't allowed to have her anymore, not at this moment—not at any moment, not ever—so he halted a few feet away from her, hand reaching out as though he wanted to touch her, gather into his arms and pretend like none of this had ever happened.

That he hadn't done anything wrong. But he did, and now he was paying for it.

When she spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion and there was undeniable pain in her eyes; “I'm only going to say this once,” she said, the lump in her throat audible. She turned around, meeting his gaze, anyone could tell that she was trying to sound strong—trying to sound like all of this didn't hurt her as much as it really did—but all of her walls were crumbling down on her, and it didn't sound like she'd be able to pick herself back up.

She swallowed with difficulty, blinking rapidly as though to fend off tears. “This is the last time you will ever lie to me again."

She looked up at him. Sirius's breath hitched in his throat. “I’m done,” she spat. “I’m done pretending like I’m okay with all of your crap. I’m fucking done.”

Sirius opened his mouth. There were a hundred explanations resting on the tip of his tongue, but all of them sounded like excuses, and he knew that was the last thing she wanted to hear.

And Sirius was the last person she wants to see.

He watched, with gut-wrenching guilt swimming in the pit of his stomach, as she wiped aggressively at her tears with the back of her hand and sent him a look of the utmost loathing—but Sirius saw right through it. He saw her pain.

Pain he had caused. Pain he knows he still caused.

“I hope you’re fucking happy,” she choked out, meaning to sound angry, but all Sirius heard was pain.

As she slammed the door shut on her way out, Sirius wondered to himself, as his knees buckled and he leaned on the couch for support, if [Y/N] would ever be the same again.

He'd made a mistake; a terrible one. And there was no going back from it now.

—

She did.

That is—she healed. It took her time, of course. Quite a lot of it.

Years passed by in a hazy blur. There were people who grew close to her, people who promised her the same things that she believed in so long ago. That she would be loved by them unconditionally if she just let her walls down and gave herself a chance to try and trust someone again.

It was difficult. She'd loved Sirius as though he were everything in the world that mattered—she had offered him all of her despite knowing that every moment he spent with her was a lie. every kiss, every promise; lies. All of them.

And yet she'd loved him, and when you love someone, you don't care about anything else but them. You don't listen when all of your friends tell you that he isn't good for you, and you don't care when he climbs out of bed in the morning, not quite meeting your gaze when he tells you he's going to visit a friend.

If you love someone, you don't care about all of that.

Or at least you tell yourself that, until you realize that you do. You do care.

[Y/N] realized it far later.

It was that that gave her the strength to walk away from him, despite her heart telling him that it's okay—why should it matter if he doesn't love you back? As long as you love him, it's okay.

It wasn't.

God, it really, really wasn't.

So [Y/N] lived on, not because she wanted to, but because she had to. And it's funny, how pain changes you. At first you think you're never going to be the same again—that you will be heartbroken forever, wallowing in your own self-pity—but the more time passes, the stronger you get. You don't feel it right away.

But one day, many, many years later, when her heart has healed, and she wakes up and realizes that she is loved by people around her and by herself, the way Sirius Black had never done—she realizes:

She is strong. So much stronger than the person she was before.

For the first time in a very long time, when his name wafts back into her head again, she doesn't feel pain.

Instead, the corners of her lips tug up into a small smile.

Here, in front of the window, with the warm sunlight painted across her face, her lashes flutter open.

I'm done pretending.

And now, there is no more pain in her eyes. 

There hasn't been for a long time now.

general taglist:  @dancing-in-the-moonlight3 @kalimagik @alittletoomanyobsessions @hariosborn @obsessedwithrandomthings @emcchi @sxrensxngwrites @enjoying-fantasyland21 @masterofthedarkness @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @bforbroadway @hufflefluff-writer @summer-writes @chaotic-fae-queen @firewhisky-kisses @dracosvftie @heloisedaphnebrightmore @idont-knowrn @dreamer821 @peachesandpinks @slytherinprincess03​ @chocfrogaddict @nebulablakemurphy​ ​@kpopgirlbtssvt @lumielikesbooks​ @teheharrypotter​

[pansyslut]

hi:) can i request an imagine where draco cheats on the reader and he doesn’t regret it cuz maybe he thinks he’s falling in love with the other person (the girl he cheathed y/n with)??idk if this makes sense :(

wait wait wait I HAVE A REQUEST ?? omg- guys this is a moment for celebration. it’s your lucky day because i’ll make this a long one. and yes that make perfect sense!! i’m so excited to write this especially because i don’t usually write angst but i think you’ll like it.

p.s. a small portion of this oneshot will have quote from a scene from greys anatomy. (2x24) i love that scene and i think it fit in well with the story.

and once again... don’t feel shy to send requests because i get so excited to hear what you guys want !

liar, liar, pants on fire

draco x reader

it had been three months. three months since you broke up with draco. three months since you found that skank in your bed.

people always say, “it will get better with time” , “the pain fades eventually”. they were wrong. what kind of bullshit is that? if anything, it hurts more.

you and draco had been together for over a year. it had started off with secret kisses, him showering you with gifts, sneaking out past curfew. even after being together for over a year it still felt like the honeymoon stage. you never fought. you never got on each other’s nerves. everything was perfect. or so you thought.

you had slipped out your bedroom when your roommate fell asleep and were making your way to dracos room. usually, you and draco would plan what nights you would spend together but you were craving his touch. he had been so distant lately. when your friends had brought up that it seemed you were spending a significant amount of less time together you brushed it off and said it was because he was stressed for the O.W.L.S.

you crept slowly in the halls and found your way to dracos door. knocking silently you waited. after the second knock, draco opened the door. as soon as you saw his face you knew something was wrong. he looked like a deer in headlights. he was obviously caught in the act of something but you hadn’t known how bad it actually was.

“dray?” you heard a female voice from behind him. you immediately froze, locking eyes with your boyfriend. he reached out to you but you snatched your hand back as you frantically shook your head.

you both stood there silently staring. until astoria walked up behind him. you instantly noticed she was in one of his shirts. on of his shirts you had gotten him.

you were never an aggressive or violent person. but in that moment- merlin in that moment you could have hexed her to death. and you would’ve done it with a smile on your face. and you possibly would’ve if it wasn’t for draco slamming his door in your face, knocking you out of your trance.

all those study groups. all those times he cancelled or had some fishy excuse or couldn’t explain where he was- it was because of her. it all made sense. how stupid, you had thought. how could you not have known. it was so clear. blatantly staring you in the face.

that was the last time you spoke to him. that was months ago and still that moment replayed in your head endlessly. multiple times you had wondered to yourself why. why were you not good enough? why didn’t he just break up with you? how many times had he lied to you before? how long had their affair been going on?

you needed to stop making excuses for him. yes, you loved him. but did he love you? you thought back to the many times you had said it to him and he had never said it back. then, you hadn’t thought anything of it. you knew draco wasn’t one to open up easily. you knew it would take a considerable amount of time before he would say those three words and you were okay with that.

he probably loved her. all those times you lay in his arms he was probably thinking of her. all those times he had cancelled plans on you he was probably with her telling her how much he loved her.

you also thought back to what you would’ve done differently. in the moment you found out of him cheating and what you would’ve done differently in the relationship.

i made it to easy for him. i’m too easy.

i wasn’t satisfying him or his needs.

i shouldn’t have been too clingy.

if i were pure blood, he would’ve never left me.

this is all my fault.

the next school year...

it had been months since draco and you had broken up. you still stand by saying it hurting just as much. it hurts like hell. but you have come to terms with it. you’ve come to the realization that is wasn’t your fault. no mater what you did or didn’t do right in the relationship, it isn’t an excuse to cheat. he was the one who lied. he was the one who wasn’t loyal.

news broke out of you and dracos split like wild fire. everyone knew. you were officially up for grabs. many boys had made their way up to you in hopes to take you out. time after time you had rejected them politely. until cedric digory.

you and cedric had been friends for years. you were always fond of his company. walking through the train, looking through the windows, you stop once you see him. “may i join you?”

ever since then you and cedric started spending more and more time together. you didn’t love him but you think you could grow to. you could love him in a different way than draco.

i mean they were durastically different. although draco had always been sweet to you, he was incredibly rude to anyone else. cedric was kind to everyone. and he always seemed to have a smile on his face.

you scolded yourself for comparing the two boys. it wasn’t the first time you caught yourself doing it and most definitely not the last.

it now coming up on your one month with cedric, and your class had ended early. so you were making your way out the empty slytherin common room to meet him outside on his class.

that was the first time you and draco had made eye contact since all those months ago. he had grown quite well at avoiding you. you both stand there quietly like statues until he santurs over to you and stopping only a foot away. he had this aggressive look written all over his face.

“y/n. good to see you’re well. i’ve seen you around with digory lately.” he says formally. “yes. me and cedric have been seeing each other. i haven’t seen you around with astoria? have you hit a bump?” you say plainly with your hands on your hips.

he scoffs and starts walking away but you decide to follow him. “it’s good to know about cedric. you really get around, huh?” he says still walking. you grab his arm and twist him around so you are face to face. “what did you just say to me?”

“it’s unforgivable.” unforgivable? it he serious?

“i don’t remember asking for your forgiveness.”

“so is digory just a faze? who’s next? i heard blaze likes to sleep around.” he says laughing at his own joke, turning once again to walk away.

you run in front of him and grab him by one of his forearms. “you don’t get to call me a whore. when i met you, i thought i had found the person i was going to spend the rest of my life with.” you say with tears now building up in your eyes, “so all the boys. and all the bars. and all the obvious daddy issues. who cared? because i was done. you left me. you chose astoria. i’m all glued back together now. i make no apologies for how i chose to repair what you broke. you don’t get to call me a whore.”

you stares at you with his eyes wide and his mouth gaping. “draco!” you both hear in the distance. you turn to see astoria herself, only a few meters away. “you should go. your girlfriends calling.” you say and walk off.

after all the times you had imagined that moment, you never thought of how invigorating it would make you feel. you left him speechless and it felt damn good.

that night...

you lie awake staring at the ceiling. you felt like you could actually breath. for months, you were living on stored air but now you could actually breath.

you hear a soft knock on your door. you look to the clock reading 1:42, wondering who would be up at this hour. you open to see draco malfoy himself. he has bags under his eyes which you hadn’t noticed before. he pushes past you and let’s himself into your room.

“you were right earlier. and you deserve an explanation.” he says. you nod so he goes on. “when we were together i had been cheating on you for three months before you had found out.” three months? no that can’t be. you would’ve realized.

“and- and i was planning on telling you. but it never felt like the right time.” he said pulling at his hair in frustration.

“the right time? the right time would’ve been before you had even cheated on me. the right time would’ve been three months before i had found out.” you say crossing your arms.

“yeah, you’re right. you’re right.” he says and starts to pace your room. draco had never been the type to admit he’s wrong before so you can imagine how much damage this is actually doing to him.

“i love her, y/n. at first i thought it was just infatuation and i was going to fuck her once and take the secret to my grave but- but y/n, i love her.”

you turn as he’s talking so he doesn’t see the tears fighting to come out. he continues to talk as you cry silently, turned away from him.

“i’m sorry, y/n. i really did care for you.” and then you hear your door shut. you turn to realize you are once again standing in your bedroom alone.

i really did care for you

but he never loved you. he loved her.

[occasionalstorytelling]

A slightly-belated fic written for Jason’s death anniversary. I just really wanted to write a story with autistic Jason, so here it is!

Summary: Jason Todd shows up at the Manor and asks if Alfred can spare some time for a chat. They head down to a coffee shop and settle in to talk. Jason has been thinking, and he wants to tell Alfred that he thinks he might be autistic, actually.

Word Count: 2,888

Read it here:

Damian wandered into the kitchen, where Alfred was finishing up cutting some apple slices for him. Damian took one, and crouched on a kitchen stool, balanced on his feet like some kind of bird of prey. Alfred was used to this behavior—it tended to be typical of Robins.

“Todd’s coming,” Damian shrugged in between apple bites.

“Really?” Alfred turned to the window. Lo and behold, Jason Todd was walking down the path to the Manor’s front door. With lightning speed, Alfred grabbed a medical kit from below the sink, then ran to the front door. He threw it open before Jason even made it all the way up the walk.

“Jason! Are you all right? Are you hurt?” Alfred was too panicked for formalities. The boy didn’t seem to be limping, and there were no visible bruises or cuts on him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt. Alfred opened the kit, ready for whatever it was was.

“Yeah, Alf, I’m fine,” Jason winced. It didn’t take Alfred more than a few seconds to notice the wince was at Alfred, not out of any kind of pain or duress.

“You’re…that’s good to hear, then, Master Jason,” Alfred said, awkwardly closing the kit. He tucked it loosely under one arm.

“Guess I don’t, uh, visit that often,” Jason rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“It’s good you’re not hurt. Is there something you need, then? Anything,” Alfred said. “Would you like to come inside?”

Jason looked up at the house, then down at the ground as if he was staring through the dirt right into the Batcave. “Don’t need anything. Just wanted to talk. Not inside, though.”

Alfred nodded. “I’ll fetch my coat.” He went inside, set the medical kit on a counter, and grabbed a coat and a hat. Then he went back outside to the front lawn, where Jason fidgeted nervously, still staring at the ground like he expected Batman to pop out of it at any moment.

They left the Manor grounds and walked into town. Alfred suggested a diner for a quick bite. Jason shook his head and suggested a coffee instead. They went to the nearest Jitters.

Alfred ordered a tea. Jason ordered a hot chocolate. They smiled awkwardly at each other then. Alfred paid, then joined Jason near the pickup counter to wait for the drinks.

“I don’t know why I said coffee,” Jason smiled, still awkward. “Neither of us drink it.”

“I’d wondered if your tastes had changed,” Alfred said fondly. “As I recall, you don’t drink soda, either. You’re still the only one of the boys who refuses.”

“So?” Jason shifted slightly, uncomfortable. “The bubbles go up my nose.”

“It’s healthier for you, anyway,” Alfred said. “If only Master Tim could be convinced to lower his caffeine intake, I’m sure we’d all feel a lot better.”

“Yeah,” Jason snorted. “Replacement’s the one who’s not…I mean,” Jason froze, sentence only halfway out. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, like he was trying to figure out how to say whatever it was he’d meant to say, but he eventually just trailed off and went quiet. They were saved from the awkwardness of the moment when the barista called “Pennyworth” and Alfred had to go retrieve their drinks.

“Shall we sit down?” Alfred asked.

Jason nodded. They found an empty table outside. Alfred took the seat with his back towards the street—another behavior typical of Robins was that they liked to be able to see their exit strategies. Not that Jason was a Robin, of course, but he was still Jason. Jason sipped his hot chocolate, and generally failed to make eye contact with Alfred.

“You’re looking well,” Alfred said.

“I’ve…been doing the thing you told me about,” Jason said, with just a slight flush of embarrassment in his cheeks.

“Which thing?” Alfred asked. He’d given Jason a lot of advice over the years.

“When you said it’s hard to take care of a Robin,” Jason said.

“I never meant that as a slight on you or any of the others,” Alfred said. “My sincerest apologies if—”

“No, no, I mean…um,” Jason took another sip of his drink while he figured out how to say it. “The self care thing. I’ve been…the thing about being gentle?”

“I’m not…sure what you’re referring to?” Alfred said.

“I’m the Robin,” Jason said, twisting his fingers in his lap. “I don’t have to…punish myself? You said that when I’m struggling with something, to pretend the thought or the idea or the thing or whatever is coming from my own Robin sidekick and deal with it like that. So I’ve been doing it.”

“Is it helping?” Alfred asked.

“Yeah,” Jason let out a relieved breath in a whoosh, at finally being understood. “It’s been really helpful. The other day, I bought a bunch of frozen mini corn dogs for him. Me? Me, I mean. I just…you know. I’m trying to…take care of myself.”

“That’s good to hear,” Alfred said. He sipped his tea. It was a little over-sugared, but Jitters tended to make all their drinks like that.

“And I was, um, researching on the internet about stuff too,” Jason said. “Self care stuff.”

“I’m proud of you,” Alfred said. “God knows Bruce needs to take better care of himself. I’m glad to hear you’re not following his poor example in that regard.” Alfred knew Jason very well, so he called Master Bruce simply “Bruce” to put Jason at ease, and he gave Jason praise that amounted to “you’re doing all right without Batman.” Jason always insisted he didn’t need to hear that, but the way he glowed after the praise…like he was glowing now. Jason took a long sip of his hot chocolate and relaxed enough to put his hands on the table.

“There was something else,” Jason said. “On the internet. That I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Please,” Alfred waved a hand. “You can talk to me about anything.” Admittedly, it had been some time since Jason had taken him up on the offer, but what better time than now to start changing that?

“I think I’m autistic,” Jason said. He stared at his drink when he spoke, but it came out smoothly, calmly, practiced. He’d practiced this conversation, Alfred realized.

“All right,” Alfred said. “Thank you for trusting me enough to say so. How can I support you?”

Jason laughed. “That’s what you said to Dick when he told you he liked boys, Alf.”

“The sentiment is no less true in this scenario, Master Jason,” Alfred said. “I am happy that you’ve…confided in me? Is that an appropriate term?”

“I guess so,” Jason shrugged. “It’s not a secret, I’m just not…not telling Bruce, and stuff.”

“Have you seen a doctor or a therapist?” Alfred asked.

“No,” Jason tensed. “I, uh, self-diagnosed. But plenty of people in online communities say it’s totally valid, and a diagnosis could only make my life worse, so—”

“Worse?” Alfred didn’t mean to interrupt, it just slipped out.

“Yeah,” Jason grit his teeth. “I mean, even if I wasn’t legally dead, it’s apparently really hard to get diagnosed officially as an adult, and even if I got a diagnosis it’s not like…I mean, it wouldn’t help, you know? It would be yet another excuse to get passed over in Bruce’s inheritance, and fired from jobs, and…stuff.”

“I understand,” Alfred nodded. “And you’re right. You don’t need a diagnosis to be valid. But, if I may…why tell me?”

“It just…seemed like something you tell people,” Jason fidgeted, cracking his knuckles over and over again. “Dick told you he likes boys, so…I’m telling you, this, I guess.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Alfred repeated. “I am…honored that you trust me with this. It’s clearly very personal.”

“Yeah,” Jason sighed. “I don’t know…I don’t know that there’s much you can do to support me, I just wanted you to know.”

“Talking is supporting,” Alfred said.

“Talking is supporting,” Jason repeated it with a smile. He took another sip of his hot chocolate. Alfred finished off his own cup of tea. They both watched people walk by along the busy streets of Gotham.

“And, I can’t tell Bruce, because he’ll think it’s more…you know,” Jason said, picking up the conversation as if there hadn’t been a pause.

“He’ll think it’s related to your death,” Alfred nodded, finishing the sentence.

“See? You’ll at least talk about it. Bruce won’t even say it…” Jason sighed. “But yeah. That’s kind of what I worried, too? Do you remember if I was always like this,” he gestured at himself, “before I died?”

“What do you mean?” Alfred asked. “Your hairstyle has certainly changed.”

“Like, my costume,” Jason said. “Um. I was researching…I think I’ve got a sensory processing thing. And that’s why I don’t like soda bubbles, and why I need a helmet that blocks out more distractions than just a mask, and why I can’t wear leggings.”

“You wore leggings for a significant period of time,” Alfred pointed out.

“I know,” Jason frowned. “I remember doing it. And I tried it again the other day, someone lent me a pair of fishnets to try on…but the feeling on my legs doesn’t go away. I can’t wear leggings or skinny jeans for more than ten minutes without feeling like I’m gonna go crazy.”

“I see,” Alfred said.

“So…I remember wearing leggings before, but I don’t remember how it felt,” Jason said. “What if…I don’t know, what if all of my autistic symptoms, traits, whatever, what if if is all after-effects of being dead?”

“Would that make it any less real?” Alfred asked.

“I guess not,” Jason huffed and leaned back in his seat. “But…I want to know.”

“You hated the leggings, even back then,” Alfred said, remembering. “But you were too stubborn to wear anything else on patrol, which meant that when you got back, you threw them on the floor and went around in your underwear, and I was the one who had to pick them up and wash them.”

“Okay, that I think I remember,” Jason smiled. “I remember Bruce telling me to put on pants because Selina was coming over, at least.”

“Your new costume is more comfortable, I hope?” Alfred asked.

“It’s heavier. It’s nice,” Jason said. “I like the weight. It’s grounding. And it’s looser…no more leggings and spandex. It’s comfortable.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Alfred said. “You know…it occurs to me, you were also very particular about your bedsheets. You only liked the ones with the purple flowers, even though Master Dick’s favorite were the ones with the little rocket ships.”

“The flowers were the only ones with the right texture,” Jason said. “Yeah…that’s still how I buy sheets. It doesn’t matter what color it is, so long as it’s soft enough that it’s not gonna distract me from sleeping.”

“Would that also be related to…sensory processing?” Alfred asked, trying to remember the phrase Jason had used.

“Yeah,” Jason nodded. “Same with picky eating. I mean…yeah. I don’t have a better word for it, but—”

“There doesn’t need to be a word for it,” Alfred said. “Your food preferences are individual to you, just like anyone else’s.”

“Bruce still thinks I eat like a little kid,” Jason mumbled. “He thinks it’s stupid. I can tell he does, even when he doesn’t say it.”

“If that is the case, we will simply not discuss it with him,” Alfred said.

“Yeah,” Jason said, relaxing slightly. “That would be the one thing I’d change, though. If I could, I mean. I’d want to be less picky. I’m sorry I didn’t eat much of those dinners you used to make.”

“I’m only sorry it took so long for me to adapt to your tastes,” Alfred shook his head sadly. “I remember you claiming not to be hungry one too many times…”

“I didn’t want you to be mad at me, it’s just you worked so hard—”

“Nonsense,” Alfred said. “You should have been mad at me. I should have provided.”

“Your mac and cheese was always delicious,” Jason said. “I make it for myself, like, once a week.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” Alfred smiled.

“There’s other stuff too though,” Jason said. “Other than sensory processing. I mean, I’m not making it up—”

“I never accused you of doing so,” Alfred said.

“I mean, I was looking at traits online…the thing about making scripts to talk to people? I do that all the time,” Jason said. “And I always get told that I’m too blunt and unreadable, and you know how I like to stick to my schedule, and I’m not really great at emotional regulation, and I can’t always tell when people are being sarcastic or trying to tell me something…I’ve been trying to relearn how to stim. I’m still not sure what masking is, but I think I’m doing it. Have been doing it? It’s…I got a spiky ball to play with, see?” Jason pulled a small, spiky stress ball out of his pocket. “And I got a chewable necklace so I could try to stop biting my fingernails…”

“Jason, I trust you,” Alfred said. “I believe you’ve done your research. You don’t need to convince me. If you say you’re autistic, I believe you.”

“Okay,” Jason said. “I just…you know. It’s weird, saying it out loud? It doesn’t feel real. But I also know it’s real, it’s my own brain and I know how it works, but…and Bruce would never understand, and I don’t really have—” Jason hesitated. Alfred hoped he hadn’t been about to say “I don’t really have any friends.”

“I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this,” Jason finished. “Online isn’t the same. I don’t…I want to talk to someone about it.”

“Talk to me about it,” Alfred said. “I’m happy you came to me. What were you saying about learning to stim?”

“Oh,” Jason said. “Well, now that I live alone, I can play a song out loud on repeat as many times as I want, you know? And I’ve been letting myself move more…I’ve seen the replacement do the flappy hand thing, and I’ve read about it online, and I don’t know if it’s really a thing I do or if I’m trying to copy it so I’ll feel more autistic—”

“It’s okay,” Alfred soothed. “Take a deep breath.”

“Yeah,” Jason sighed. “Sorry. I know I talk fast.”

“You talk at the perfect speed,” Alfred said. “You just seemed…anxious.”

“I keep picturing how Bruce would take it,” Jason fidgeted awkwardly, digging the spikes on the stress ball into his palm.

“Are you sure he’d take it poorly?” Alfred asked.

“I’m sure,” Jason snorted. “Either he’d tell me he doesn’t believe me and I’m not autistic, which would be no more emotionally devastating than anything else he does, I guess, or he’d act weird about it and walk on eggshells around me and constantly misunderstand my whole life, which is already how things are with him! Ugh,” Jason put his head down on the table.

“You don’t have to tell anyone you don’t want to,” Alfred said.

“I know,” Jason said. “But, like I said. Wanted to talk about it. Don’t have anyone. So.”

“Thank you for talking to me about it,” Alfred said. “I do appreciate your faith in me. Trust me—Master Bruce won’t hear a word of this from me.”

“I trust you, Alf,” Jason picked his head back up. “Thanks.”

“Is there anything in particular I can do to support you?” Alfred asked.

“Just this,” Jason said. “Thanks.”

“Would you like a hug?” Alfred asked.

“Yes,” Jason said, sniffling slightly. They hugged, and they both pretended not to notice that Jason was almost in tears with happy relief.

“So, uh, yeah,” Jason sniffed and sat back in his chair. He continued to fiddle with the spiky ball. “I guess that’s it. Wanna start walking back?”

“I am at your service,” Alfred said. They walked back to the Manor, and hugged one more time on the front step.

“If Bruce asks, this conversation didn’t happen. I did come here because I was injured, or something,” Jason said.

“My lips are sealed,” Alfred smiled.

“See you later,” Jason waved, and walked back down the path, heading back to wherever he lived. Tim had mentioned Jason had some kind of safe house near Crime Alley. Maybe he’d invite Alfred to see it sometime.

“What did Todd want?” Damian asked.

“Nothing in particular,” Alfred said.

“I ate the apple slices,” Damian said. “And we’re out of granola bars. I ate all the ones in the cabinet.”

“You’re a growing boy,” Alfred ruffled his hair, and Damian grudgingly allowed it before smoothing it back into place.

“Bye,” Damian said, and slipped off into the house like the little ninja he was. There was a soft chiming sound. Alfred looked at his phone. He had a message from a number he didn’t recognize.

Thanks for talking. Could we meet there again, same time next week?

Of course, Alfred texted back with a smile.

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (4)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START  / PREV / NEXT

Doctor Wada makes an unscheduled appearance the same morning. Kakashi has the doctor’s schedule memorised and knows the man usually spends his first work hour in his office before checking in with various patients. The change is not unexpected.

“Ms Iori finished her rounds, marked everything as normal and handed the ward off without incident.” Wada and one of the floor’s morning shift nurses talk, voices lowered, too quiet for a regular person to pick up.

“It was called in around 4:15 am. We confirmed it as a burst blood vessel behind his quirked-eye, but we don’t know what triggered it. Without examining the eye itself it is hard to draw any definite conclusions. Since we don’t know what his quirk does, we didn’t want to risk staff safety without a specialist on hand.”

“Nothing else? No other symptoms?” Wada asks.

“No external bleeding. No signs of irritation around the eye socket. Clear, coherent verbal responses from the patient. Vitals are stable.  The dressings on the eye were changed yesterday, and nothing was flagged then either.”

“I see. Thank you.”

Depressed at the thought of what amounted to a forced long-term infiltration mission, Kakashi’s attention drifts away from the hushed conversation. Kakashi has never been assigned to any extended infiltrations. Long, tedious things that they were. Jōnin were usually too valuable to waste on them. Even before he had made jōnin, his skillset lent itself to tracking, assassination, ambush and one on one combat not undercover assignments. It was just his luck -or maybe it was karma-that he had been shunted into one. Three years of ‘mingling’ amongst these soft-acting civilians, waiting to build enough chakra for an attempt at a technique he wasn’t even sure would work. It was enough to make even the most battle-hardened shinobi depressed. 

Maybe he should run off and hide somewhere. He would skulk around for three years avoiding the locals. Less of a hassle that way. Kakashi lets out a weary breath.

“See if you can bump up that MRI. We need to make sure this isn’t anything serious,” Wada’s voice breaks through his musing as the doctor starts in the direction of Kakashi’s bed. The nurse he is talking with nods and leaves.

“Well, you have certainly had an eventful night,” Wada greats when he draws near, leaning in to visually scan Kakashi, “Let’s see what we have going on. Can you close your left eye for me so I can unwrap it?”

 He habitually pushes down his natural discomfort at having a stranger close to his sharingan as the doctor reaches to tilt Kakashi’s head to the side for better access. If he was going to be stuck here then he should maintain his complacent, harmless persona. At least, until he leaves the hospital. Besides, if they had wanted to hurt him, they would have done it while he was unconscious.

“No swelling around your quirked-eye and the bleeding has stopped, that’s a good sign. We’ll run a few tests and get to bottom of this, not to worry.”

“Yeah. About that,” Kakashi rubs the back of his head to look sheepish and apologetic, “I might have tested out my, eh, quirk. You know…I wanted to see what it would do…”

There is a beat of silence, the older man drawing away, too surprised to respond.

“I think it lets me memorise things it sees?” Kakashi continues. Even if he wasn’t 100% sure about what he would do next, he is not about to abandon his shaky amnesia cover story.

“Of all the reckless, irresponsible decisions!” the doctor snaps out of his surprise moving straight into anger, “I expressly told you to wait and not to mess with it. You had no idea what sort of quirk it was! What if you had injured someone or yourself.” The concern seems pretty genuine and Kakashi almost feels bad for manipulating him.

“Young people these days…honestly. No patience.”

Young? It had been a while since anyone has called him that. Kakashi is practically ancient by shinobi standards. The response prompts a semi mournful, almost amused sigh from him, “I know, I know. I just wanted some sort of clue as to how I got here.”

The doctor takes a frustrated breath, calming “Yes. I know it’s frustrating, being restless and hold up in this bed for three straight weeks, but there is a procedure to these things. You got lucky that the only side effect was a burst blood vessel. Next time you want to test your quirk we’ll make sure it is in a controlled environment with an expert on hand. I don’t care if you have some sort of passive regeneration, quirks can be dangerous. The hospital has offsite testing facilities for a reason.”

“Yes. I understand. I won’t do it again,” he says dutifully and gets a huff of disbelief and a head shake.

“You better not.”

A pause.

“So.”

“So?” Kakashi raises a brow.

“So what did you discover? Explain it to me again.” Wada motions, impatient, repositioning a nearby chair so he can sit comfortably beside the bed.  

“It lets me remember things…” Kakashi had given a lot of thought to what he wanted his fake ‘quirk’ to do without giving too much away, “I’m pretty sure I remember anything it looks at perfectly.”

A somewhat true explanation, in that recoding information and prefect recall was one facet of the sharingan; a side effect of its primary function which was to copy ninjustu and taijustu. The explanation also played into the diagnosis Wada had already written into his medical files, making it more believable.

“Then, lucky for you, something good came of your reckless behaviour.”

Kakashi just smiles which elicits the beginnings of another lecture. “Not that you should ever take quirk safety lightly. Quirk licenses exist for a reason. People can’t go about throwing their quirks around willynilly. A licence, I might add, that you don’t have.”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

After witnessing several televised reports on police arresting people for quirk misuse Kakashi knows the people here, for whatever reason, are leery when it comes to using their abilities. To the point where they actively outlaw it. He is banking on Wada being sympathetic enough not to push the matter.  

Wada sighs again, “I’ll write it up as accidental use this time. Now. If your quirk lets you remember everything perfectly then what about your past memories. Any change on that front?”

“No. Still gone.”

“I see. That might mean the part of the brain linked to its memorisation function was damaged, disrupting the memories stored by the quirk,” Wada rubs his chin thoughtfully, “We’ll have to run a few more tests…a lot easier now that we know what it does I suppose.” Good. That was the conclusion he wanted Wada to come to.

“Alright, before we get to testing, were there any other side effects. Aches, pains, fatigue?”

Even as the man asks, he is pulling out a familiar penlight to shine in Kakashi’s regular eye.

“No. Nothing.”

What follows is his standard check-up routine. His vitals are recorded, his head checked over, the area around his sharingan examined thoroughly. Again. Well, as thoroughly as it could be examined without uncovering it. Next is an inspection of the chest wound he now knows is from Obito alongside a glance over his shoulder, arm and leg. Wada nods to himself as he goes, signalling that all is well.

“Your blood pressure is a little high for my liking. I’m guessing you didn’t sleep much last night what with how you were messing around with your quirk. Make sure you get a good night’s sleep tonight,” Wada instructs as he fits Kakashi with a padded eyepatch instead of the usual wrap of bandages. He pauses to wait for a nod of confirmation.

“I will,” he blatantly lies. Kakashi hasn’t had a proper night sleep since waking up the first time, dozing for shortened intervals only. With so many squishy doctors around he doesn’t want to accidently hurt one of them should he be woken from a nightmare. It did put additional strain on his body.

Doctor Wada peers at him, “We’ll give you another week of monitoring then get some authorised quirk testing done. A brain scan as well. Depending on what we find, we’ll see what we can do about getting you a diagnosis and then discharged.”

“Hmm,” he answers, noncommittally. Not like he has anywhere else to go until then. If this were Konoha, he would have taken off long before now and seen to his remaining injuries alone. This would be the first time in a long while that he is waiting for an official discharge. 

Guess he would be finding out how the hospital dealt with amnesiac patients after they healed. In Konoha, a displaced citizen would be given a menial labour job as part of the village’s many reconstruction projects and sent on their way. But this wasn’t Konoha and he should really stop with the comparisons.  

He needs to decide what he wants to do: Take off, find somewhere secluded and wait the years out. Or hang around to try and salvage the situation. This world did have a lot of interesting technology so there might be value in getting a better feel for the society here. Maybe he would find something useful to take back as an apology for abandoning everyone…

What a mess this all was.

...

...

...

The following week has Kakashi splitting his time between gathering supplies for a chakra storage seal and reading through Wada’s patient files to get a sense for his upcoming quirk tests and ‘brain-scan.’

He also takes the time to read through everything else Wada has in his office - mainly medical journals - to better understand the biological differences inherent in a place without chakra. Primarily, the people were physically weaker. However, there were a lot of mutations or ‘secondary quirk factors’ which reinforced the body to better deal with the stress of the primary quirk. All interesting and potentially relevant information to remember when he got into fights. Once he knew a person’s quirk he would be able to guess how their body was reinforced and act accordingly. A fire quirk would make someone naturally heat resistant but not impact resistant, is what Kakashi concludes as he re-reads the profile of current number two hero ‘Endeavour.’ The magazines gifted to him by Iori all contain a statistical breakdown of the top 10 heroes, their strengths, weaknesses, and their criminal apprehension and crime prevention rates. It is a list that rarely changes between issues. He commits it all to memory, idly planning out combat strategies that didn’t involve obvious ninjutsu or chakra use. It helps pass the time when he is not trying to make sense of what he sees on television or stalking various people around the hospital. 

At the end of the week, he steals Wada’s fountain pen, adding it to his growing pen hoard which he stashes in a vent on the roof. The storage seal he wants to make is complex and would need ink to complete.  A mix between a chakra-draining-seal-trap and a storage scroll, it is well on its way to completion. 

The seal would drain his chakra at a consistent and manageable rate, store it efficiently,  and give him a way to turn the chakra drain off and on at will. Also, as a precaution, he includes an emergency stop in case his chakra levels became dangerously low, so it didn’t accidentally kill him if he fell unconscious.

The seal would need to be positioned somewhere on his body in a spot where the doctors wouldn’t immediately notice. He doesn’t what to explain why he suddenly has a tattoo.  If he had had access to properly made fūinjutsu ink, the seal would be invisible. Alas, he would have to make do with chakra-infused pen ink.

Kakashi manages to keep himself busy enough that he expertly avoids making any concrete decision on what he wants to do with the next three years.

.

Note: this is slowly turning into a medical drama

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