#fic re-edit

[youwouldntlietopapa]

The Words That Were Never Spoken - OC Re-Edit

If anyone is interested, this fic is getting a re-edit as an OC fic.

The first chapter is up on AO3 and I will be slowly re-editing the rest over the next little while.

[meracyn]

heyyy could u write a one shot of kwon x reader where they weren't able to see each other for months (reader travelled to a different country and he had to go to the tournament) but reader finally had the chance to go to the sekai taikai and surprises him? maybe suggestive ;) But fluff is ok too, thank youn!

UNSPOKEN DESIRES || kwon jae-sung

a/n: LMAOOO SNEAKY ANON but yk what ill do it (hes too fine). crazy how i wrote the bf hcs of him yesterday and now i got 3 reqs lmao, not complaining tho. also i want to find good icons to put on my kwon reqs but I CANT CHOOSE,,

warnings; SUGGESTIVE, cursing (only like..once), uhh thats all i think

Kwon stood up along with the rest of the Cobra Kai members, barely paying attention to the announcements being said at the moment— too deep in thought— thoughts of you.

The past few months were hard. Not just for him, for you too. You had to travel to another country for a while due to a family emergency regarding a very ill relative. Although you both facetimed and texted everyday, the distance was still there. It wasn’t the same.

The Sekai Taikai was able to get Kwon to focus on the tournament, but even so it wasn’t enough. His mind kept drifting off to you. He never thought your absence would affect him that much, but ever since you told him you had to stay there longer, he felt the ache in his chest deepen with each passing day. He probably wouldn’t say it out loud, but he missed you. A lot.

As everyone was allowed to leave, Kwon let out a sigh, head tilted a bit low as he walked with the rest of his dojo. What was up with him? He won every match he had, why did it not fuel him up with satisfaction anymore? Even messing around with other dojos wasn’t becoming as fun. It frustrated him.

“Hey, wanna go with us to a bar nearby later?” Yoon went up to him, slightly nudging his shoulder with his elbow.

Kwon snapped out of his thoughts, and stopped walking. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea, he could forget about the emptiness in his heart. “..Sure, why not. I could use some distraction.” He replied. Without saying anything else, he walked away.

· · ·

You let out a sigh of relief after managing to get inside the building where the tournament was being held. You may or may not have lied your way in by saying you were one of Cobra Kai’s backups and Sensei Kim requested you come here as an emergency.

Those at the desk were a bit skeptical, but thankfully didn’t question any further and let you pass.

You walked past the big hallways, trying to think where the rooms were, thinking he was probably resting. You couldn’t wait to see him again— his eyes, his hair, that stupid yet charming smirk he had on his face.

Suddenly, you passed by a teenage guy scrolling through his phone. Maybe he knew Kwon, it was worth asking.

“Uh..excuse me,” You started, a bit nervous as you walked up to him. “Do you know the room number Kwon Jae-Sung is staying in?”

Demetri looked up, an eyebrow raised at the..random question. Out of all the questions you could have asked, this one didn’t cross his mind. He glanced around the room, noticing how it was only you and him. “I don’t think..I can give out that information.” He replied.

“Oh, no. It’s not like that—” You said quickly. “I’m his partner. I wanted to see if he’s okay.”

“Partner?” Demetri repeated. “As in, sparring partner? Then you should kn—”

“No!” You exclaimed, interrupting him. You cleared your throat before continuing, “I meant..I’m his partner..romantically.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Demetri said, before nodding slightly. He leaned in to whisper the room number, then sat back down. “I’m sure he’s doing very fine.. but that’s the number.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Relief washed over you, as you quickly left, going to the elevators.

Demetri watched as you left, before his eyes widened. “Wait. What if they’re not his partner?”

· · ·

Kwon got out of the elevator, laughing along with his team members who were all drunk and held onto each other for support.

Being at the bar did help him be distracted for a while, drinking along while the rest were doing bets on who could drink the most without getting drunk at all.

“Hey, why don’t we go out again for some more fun? It isn’t too late,” One of them suggested.

“Not a bad idea. Let’s go,— Kwon, you comin’?”

“Nah, I’m good. You guys go ahead.” He said. The others left, leaving him alone.

He opened the door to his room, shutting it behind him and turned on the lock. Walking over to his bed, he began to take off his shirt and draped a towel around his waist. Just as he was going to enter the shower, a finger tapped on his shoulder.

As he turned around, he was taken by surprise.

You were standing there, with a mischievous smile.

How did you get in his room? Was he dreaming? Was he too tired after training? Did he drink too much? Did he—

“I got you~!” You said with a chuckle.

He couldn’t feel his heartbeat— he couldn’t believe it. You were here, in front of him. After months of longing, of only talking through a screen, you were standing right there, your bodies’ mere inches away from the other. Without thinking, he closed the distance between you two, pulling you into his arms.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he mumbled into your hair, his fingers tracing the curve of your back, feeling the warmth of your body against his.

You laughed softly, pulling away slightly to meet his gaze, “I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Yeah..and you did,” He replied. “but now that you’re here..” His eyes trailed over your body up and down, voice low. The tension built between you both was obvious, the look in his eyes said it.

His lips twitched into a smirk, pulling you close to him again, “Tell me my love, did you miss me a lot?” He asked, in a teasing yet flirtatious tone.

“Maybe, who knows?” you mumbled, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Want to find out?”

Kwon didn’t reply, his lips crashing on yours as his hands instinctively held onto your waist. The kiss deepened, hinting at the need that every inch of his body begged for. It was obvious to you—he wanted more.

Your fingers went up his chest, your other hand pulling him even closer to you–if that was possible.

He pulled away for a second, as your eyes met. His dark eyes were full of lust, but also shone with a hint of mischief. Before you knew it, Kwon leaned in again, kissing your jaw and trailing down to your collarbone. Removing a hand that was on your hip, he held onto your leg, lifting it up as you curled it around his waist.

Kwon kept kissing your body, the sounds that left your lips only fueling his desire. He had your back pressed against the wall, and began to take off your shirt.

“Fuck..” He silently cursed to himself as he looked up to see your expression— cheeks red as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Looking like a mess, how cute. And just for me, right?”

You nodded frantically, wanting him to stop teasing and continue.

Knowing you were desperate, Kwon chuckled. “Don’t worry love, after so many months apart, I’m not done with you just yet.”

HELP I FEEL SO EMBARRASSED I FEEL LIKE I DID SO BAD ON THIS 💀 well it was definitely interesting to do lol..time to work on those other requests now

[mamawasatesttube]

ok i know its pointless to try to debate people who refuse to actually read comics but the guy in the replies of that last post (about tim cloning kon) vaguing me for being an "uwu soft boi wet cat tim drake stan" because i said tim isn't a supervillain is so Fucking FUNNY. you can either think tim is on the cusp of becoming evil or youre a fanon meow meow stan. theres no other options. new two genders just dropped: uwu softboi wet cat and unhinged supervillain

[alicentsaegon]

Lucien Vanserra and Elain Archeron

[muffinlance]

Wait, what’s going on with Embers???? That fic has been on my read later list since 2021, what’s happened with it???

Brief overview, then I'm likely never touching this topic again, because this is not a Drama Blog:

Context: Embers is a super old AtLA fic that was written during the early fandom days, read widely at the time, and was the origin of the widely-used fanon name of "Wani" for Zuko's ship (kind of by default that it was one of the first popular fics to give his ship a name, I think?), even though most fic writers don't seem to realize it's from there anymore.

"What's Going On": I used to include a link in all my stories to it, because I believe in crediting other writers for borrowed elements, and I was using "Wani" in all my fics. But BOY did I not want to be sending readers that way anymore, so I've adopted a new name for Zuko's ship, and removed all Embers links.

None of the criticisms about Embers itself are new; I'm assuming they date back to when the fic was being written, because this isn't an "it aged badly" thing, this is an "actually yeah this gets worse the longer you think about it and I shouldn't have ignored my bad feelings just because some of the worldbuilding was interesting" thing.

An Incomplete List of Why I Made the Change:

I don't actually like the story that much anymore, and don't want to rec it

I tried to re-read it recently to see if some things were as bad as I remembered and it turns out they were So Much Worse Oh Yikes. More specifically, the treatment of Katara and Aang and their respective cultures has... rather a lot going on. One example: The Fire Nation and Air Nomads are both given multiple backstory elements in an attempt to make the average Fire Nation soldier's participation in the genocide/war in large part the fault of the Avatar and the Air Nomads themselves, and also fully justified from the Fire Nation perspective. And I do mean fully. One of its core tenants is "People from the Fire Nation (and only people from the Fire Nation) who don't follow orders Literally Die, therefore murdering pacifists and babies and continuing the war (and their regularly scheduled war crimes) is the only thing it is physically possible for them to do". I cannot emphasize enough how literal that is.

Also the name "Wani" means "Alligator" and is... objectively a pretty lame name for Zuko's ship? Where's the personality, where's the deeper meaning, where's the resonance with Zuko's themes? @tuktukpodfics initially thought I was calling the ship "Wanyi", and that's what I've switched to, because it is Objectively So Much Better. In their words: “Wànyī (萬一): Literally ‘one in ten thousand,’ ‘perchance.’ Used grammatically in Chinese to mean ‘what if’ or ‘just in case.’ I think a ship called ‘The Perchance’ is perfect for a boy clinging to false hope.”

TL:DR; I don't rec Embers anymore, because I don't actually like the story anymore, and there are things about it that get worse the more I think on them. I've removed links to it and renamed Zuko's ship to "Wanyi" ("The Perchance") because our boy deserves a ship name that reflects his character arc.

[sluttyten]

I was working on a new fic that I was really looking forward to, but in light of recent revelations, I'm gonna be taking a step back I think

also i removed him from the member masterlist and all of his fics, excluding things like YIMA and the poly series which I'm considering re-editing to get rid of him

[theokusgallery]

Hello! Have some "With an Enemy Like You (Who Needs a Lover?)" by @greenninjagal-blog X various text posts, one AO3 collection title, and one screenshot of despair. Because I can't stop thinking about them

dsjghskjhgq LISTEN;

[nicbutnasty]

I was so enamoured by the mental image of Pinterest wintercore Lando in his sweater and lacy lingerie from the Winter Warmers day 1 fic (coffee/lingerie) by @vroombeams that I just had to do a quick sketch of him!

A bit of artistic licence taken because I don't think this eternally-cold Lando would sit around with bare legs, but let's pretend he's warmed up after the events of the fic, and is back to enjoying his coffee :')

Posca and Uni-ball eye pen on paper, approx. A5 size

[kaiscumsock]

god i love tate langdon season 🖤

[wwasted]

fin's fic recs: meet me at the chapel & jump the gun by @swifty-fox

(part of the eudaimonia series)

“My name’s Gale,” He says, right before the door shuts on their encounter. And his outlaw laughs, wild and delighted, and not for a second does Gale think he’s being laughed at. “Your name,” His outlaw says warmly, “is Buck.” -- Modern day Outlaw John Egan just won't stop robbing Gale's convenience store.

[thatbluebox]

WASHING MACHINE HEART | sauron & galadriel 

It’s always the same: the worm; the raft; the storm. Halbrand.

based off the time-looping one-shot "Ouroboros" by @amuria on ao3.

[electric-plants]

still stuck here btw

[seepingfrommyskin]

“I don’t belong with you, I never did.”

hi yes my first time posting my art here and I come bearing fanart for @hella1975 ‘s amazing atla fic The Art of Burning, you can find this specific scene in chapter 28! if you haven't read it yet I highly recommend.

(click for better quality)

[grayskies2525]

Inevitable (male sneezing, contagion) | Part 3/4

Here we continue to follow Evan through the worst cold of his life. There will be one more part after this!

Part one Part two

Another obvious CW for mess!

Word count: 2,200

*** 

Part 3

Bed.

A single monosyllabic word that currently means everything to Evan. The mere thought of having a bed to come home to after his shift is the only thing keeping him going. 

He stands now with his gaze unfocused off in the distance as he tries to even out his breaths. He’s been at the front registers for an hour and he’d estimate he’s sneezed twenty times at least. He’s had the good sense to keep tissues on his person at all times. There’s one tissue that’s been living out its life in Evan’s left hand for a good while now. Evan has deemed this his “wiping” tissue, using it for a quick swipe, or sometimes to clasp it desperately against his nose in efforts not to send a deluge of fluid onto the items he scans. He refuses to blow into this tissue. No, that’s a job for the fresh tissues — the tissues he allows himself to pluck from the box he keeps next to him. These are the tissues he quickly disposes into the  — now close to overflowing — wastebasket.  

Then there’s the tissues he sneezes into. He keeps these in the pocket on the right side of the jacket he’d slipped on earlier when he’d started feeling chilly. He figures it’d be a waste to throw these tissues away if they’re only coated in a light mist. There’s, of course, been many tissues that haven’t survived some of Evans more… forceful sneezes. The tissues with holes or an abundance of thick stickiness were fated for the wastebasket that has now, effectively, become a tissue cemetery. 

God, he just wants to go to bed. And maybe have a bowl of hot soup — tomato soup with Goldfish crackers, and possibly a grilled cheese sandwich to go along with it. But, then, he’d have to make the soup and sandwich and in his current state, he’d rather die of starvation than put in that effort. Maybe Marcus will take pity on him and make it. It doesn’t even need to be homemade. Surely they have a can of Campbell’s somewhere in the cabinet. 

“EDT’shuuuuHHH!”

Evan feels proud the sneeze, while coming on too quickly for him to cover, is only a fine spray. Sure, it does absolutely drench the store’s phone, but in comparison to what was happening to Evan earlier, this is practically nothing. His constant tissue use has kept away the more viscous type of mucus from shooting out of him. He spares a moment to contemplate how he’s reached the point where he considers sneezing all over a phone to be a success just because it wasn’t accompanied by strings of snot.

Kate, one of the associates working the registers today, sighs as she sees him trying to wipe off the phone with a tissue. “I’d tell you to go home, but I know you can’t. But, listen, you’re going to start a literal outbreak at this rate. Like, I’d be surprised if everyone in town doesn’t come down with this thing in a few days time. So, would you consider wearing a mask? There’s a box in the break room.”

Evan stares at her. Yes, wearing a mask would prevent spreading the virus, but that would only work if he could keep the thing on.

“Uh, I don’t really know if that’s feasible, Kate,” he says, wiping his nose with the tissue he has on hand, as if to illustrate his point.

Kate stares at him, her mouth in a thin line. “Well, you should try. It’ll at least give the impression that you’re attempting not to spread your cold to all our customers.”

Evan sighs heavily before turning and heading off to the break room.

* * *

The problem with masks is that their main purpose is to prevent droplets dispersing when people speak, cough, or — of course — breathe. Evan imagines they could be good at preventing sneeze spray from entering the air, providing the sneezes are the light and misty type. Otherwise, after a few sneezes, a person is going to have to dispose of the mask and get a new one— which would be fine if the person only sneezed here and there.

Evan is not sneezing here and there.

“AHD’tshhhUUUHHHH! ADT’SHHHHH! HEhhh HH HEH EH-TSsSHHHH!”

He notices the warmth first, then the wetness. 

It clings to his face, which forces him into having to smell the strong scent of his own saliva and mucus, both of which are teeming with viruses. He needs the mask off now.

But there’s a customer literally speaking to him. A fact he nearly forgot.

“... And I’m just saying if you don’t want customers to think something is on sale, then you shouldn’t have an ‘on sale’ sign so close to the item.”

Evan snorts thickly and holds up a finger in the universal sign for “wait a minute” as he turns around to pull off his mask. It stubbornly clings to his face, as if glued to it, but he manages to pull it off, though he does have to hold back a gag at the sight he’s met with. He pulls a bunch of tissues out of his pocket — the ones previously reserved for sneezing — and wipes up the mess before turning back around.

He plasters on a smile for the customer. “Yes, I agree that sometimes our signs can create confusion if they’re not properly switched out, or if they are too close to another product. So, refresh my memory — you’re saying you thought this 10 quart air fryer was on sale for… for 15 dollars?” he asks, frowning, trying to actually process the words the woman’s been saying.

“Yes. But that lady over there —” she says pointing to Kate who’s working one of the other POS stations. “Told me the sale was actually for mixing bowls. But if the sale’s for mixing bowls, then the sign should have been closer to the mixing bowls and not the airfryers.”

Evan stares. Something about the woman — perhaps her tone of voice, or her pursed lips and self-righteous looking expression — gives Evan the idea that she knows exactly what she’s doing. There’s no way she thought a three hundred dollar airfryer would be on sale for fifteen dollars. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the one who moved the sign next to the airfryers. People like this annoy more than someone who outright steals.

“Right. I understand what you’re saying, but — EDT’SHHuuuuHHHH!” 

He managed to aim the sneeze downward at the counter. He watches the droplets settle on a notepad in spots — some large, some small —  all over the top page. He frowns, then looks up.

The woman’s face is contorted into a scowl. “If you’re sick, you should stay home.”

“I — ADt’SHhhhhhhhh! AD’TSHHHHHH!”

Evan can’t even feel ashamed this time of sneezing on someone. She shouldn’t have been so close, and more importantly, so damn annoying. Though, as he stares at her face covered in the glistening evidence of his cold, he does begin to feel a miniscule amount of shame.

“Uhmb, liste’d, I amb so sorry.” He snorts, trying to lessen the congestion he hears in his voice. “Hodestly, I’ve got a killer cold righdt dow ad I —”

“You realize this is unacceptable, right?” the woman says, her tone drenched with bitterness. “You have no business being here getting customers sick. I will be complaining. Give me the name of your manager,” she demands.

He blinks. “Uhb, so the madadger today is actually mbe, so ubm… cobplaidt doted I guess?” he says, giving a heavy snort, exhaustion tugging at every inch of his body.

The lady glares. “I can’t even understand what you’re saying. I’ll be filling out a survey later. I’ve been a regular customer here for years and I hate to say it, but I don’t think I can ever come back.”

Alarm bells flash through his mind as he remembers his training videos. But then the tickle from hell takes sudden residence in his sinuses and he snaps forward. 

“AHHgt’shuuuuuhhhh! AHHHHGG’tSHHUUUHHHhhhh!”

This time there are strings. And they hang down in thick, unbreaking strands. Instinctively, he brings up his bare hand to collect the mess. He stares at the woman, helpless to do anything but stand there with a hand covering his face. The woman’s mouth is curled in disgust, and she gives a quick shake of her head before turning to exit the store. 

Well, that’s the third customer he’s scared away today with his sneezing. Although, the second could hardly count as a “customer” he supposes.

* * *

“Trevor, please," Evan begs as he sits at the break room table, feeling thankful to be alone in the room. "I will take your closidg shifts dext week if you just cobe id today. I hodestly dod’t thidk I cad make it through four bore hours of — of this ihh’shhHHOOO! SHOOO! SHOOO! SHOOO! SHOO!” He takes a deep breath before immediately resuming the pattern. “ACK’SHOOOO! SHHOOO! SHOOOOO!”

Eight sneezes. 

Eight.

He’s dying. 

Each sneeze scraped against his throat and made his head throb. They also tore through the one tissue he’d brought up just in time. There’s a large hole in the middle and a slimy mess coating his hand. At this point, all he can do is sigh.

“Please, Trevor. I’ve dever beed this sigck befo — Eck’SHooOOOOO!”

More spray. More strings. More sighs.

“Jesus,” Trevor says, from the other end of the phone. “Fine, I get it. You’re sick. But, it’s just that, you know…I had plans… and, well, can’t you just call Bethany or something?”

“Already did. Bethady’s at the ebergedcy vet with her dog. You’re literally by odly hope. Please. I’b sdeezi’g all over custobers ad everythi’g, Trevor. Like, you have do idea. I just wadt to get sombe rest so I cad shake this thi’g ad — I — HEH!”

Evan sets the phone down on the table and pulls several tissues from the box on his lap, quickly burying his face into them.

“ECK’shhUUUUUuuuhhhhh! ECK’Shhhhhhhhhh! Heh hh hhh HHHH MPfff’tshhhuuuhhh! MPT’SHUUUHHHH!”

“Goddamn,” he hears Trevor say from his phone, but Evan’s too focused on trying to keep himself from literally drowning. He blows and blows his nose, the sound gurgling. He feels slimy dampness run all down the side of his hand. Clearly he needed more tissues than he grabbed.

“Fine,” he hears Trevor say with a groan. “But we’re definitely trading shifts next week so I don’t have to close.”

Evan’s throat feels scratched all to hell from the sneezing. He clears his throat to alleviate the scratchiness only to find himself lost in a coughing fit. Like, the sneezing wasn’t enough.

“Evan? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, thagk you, Trevor. Ad I promidse I’ll take your evedi’g shifts dext week.”

* * *

“Dude, wake up. I drove forty minutes on my day off to come save your ass just so you can go home to sleep off your sniffles. So, go home.”

The voice is one Evan knows. In fact, he thinks he heard it not too long ago. But, going back to sleep sounds immensely more appealing than trying to figure out the owner of the mystery voice.

Someone’s shaking his shoulder. 

“Dude,” the voice says again, sounding irritated.

Evan’s the one who should feel irritated. He’s just trying to get some sleep and now someone’s shaking him and also he has to — 

“Hmmph’SHHHhhhhh! HEH’tshooooo!”

Evan, instinctively, sniffles. It turns out there’s a lot more than he’d realized to sniffle back up, so he finally raises his head a little from the table he'd apparently fallen asleep on.. He sees large globs of mucus across his arm.

Then he remembers. 

He slowly sits up and finds Trevor’s gaze on him. 

“Jesus, Evan. Clean yourself up.”

Evan wipes his nose with his arm, leaving another trail along his skin. 

God, he needs a shower. 

Trevor’s eyebrows go up and his eyes widen before he shakes his head as if in disbelief. Evan watches, mind still half-asleep, as Trevor dampens a paper towel at the sink in the tiny kitchen section of the break room.

Trevor jogs over to Evan and holds out the paper towel. “For your arm. Man, you are a wreck.”

“I dod’t feel very good,” Evan says, sniffling and looking at the paper towel, feeling dazed.

“No shit,” Trevor says before his expression softens. “Listen, clean yourself up and get home and rest. And don’t come back tomorrow. I’ll cover for you. Just take one of my shifts when you’re feeling better.” He looks back down at the paper towel in his hand. “And for the love of christ, please wipe off your nose. It's pouring like a faucet. I don't even know how that's possible with how stuffed up you sound.”

Trevor reaches the paper towel out again to Evan. Evan goes to take the towel, but since he seemingly no longer has any control whatsoever of his respiratory reflexes, he sneezes.

All over Trevor’s outstretched arm and into the air. Because of course he does. 

Evan takes the paper towel and for reasons he doesn’t understand, begins awkwardly wiping Trevor’s arm with it.

It’s hard not to when there’s little globs of mucus on Trevor’s skin. After this cold is over, Evan hopes to never have to see another “glob of mucus” again.

Trevor just stares down as if in horror, until he finally snaps. “Okay, that’s enough, Evan. I’ve got it. Get yourself cleaned up and for the sake of everyone, go home.”

“Sorry,” Evan mutters before going to do just that.

Part three

[read-write-thrive]

Charles Rowland Week Day Five — Earring/AU

Yes this is late but shhhh this ficlet was not working with me!! Still not happy with it but here we are. TW: slurs for South Asian and queer people mentioned (aka paki and fag) as Charles recounts what some of the awful other guys were saying to him. Take care of yourself as always :) hope you enjoy!!

Charles knew it wasn’t fair of him to slam the door open. He came back practically right after class, for once, and he knew that Edwin would be doing homework at his desk. Sudden sounds were worse for Charles than Edwin, for the most part, but it was still a dick move on his part to just bang the door open, storm in, dump his stuff, and then immediately set about taking a shower. In his defence it had been a truly awful day and he figured it was better to take his anger out on inanimate objects than snap (or worse) at Edwin himself.

But, again, this was completely unknown to Edwin, who jumped and twisted in his seat to see what the noise was. He calmed a bit at seeing it was Charles, but still tore his headphones from his ears to start up, “Charles! What the devil has gotten into you?” When Charles dropped his stuff off without responding, Edwin continued, “Is everything alright? Are you alright?”

Charles whipped off his top, threw it in the vague direction of his hamper, and started pacing and taking his socks off at the same time (which doesn’t work very well, but he was too angry to think that through), “It’s those dicks in my woodwork class again! I swear to fuck I am going to drive one of those hammers through their fucking heads, nail their empty skulls together so they might have some fucking use!”

Edwin somehow audibly blinked, “Well. That’s a picture. What have they done this time?”

Charles managed to still himself to unbutton his jeans, “More homophobic, racist shit. ‘Charlie! Charlie! Is the earring because you’re a gross fag or a fucking paki?’ Absolute arseholes. Like it’s any of their fucking business—they wouldn’t know culture if it shagged their mums.”

Another blink, “They really got to you today, it seems. You should take solace in the fact that they’re uneducated as you can be and still stay at this school. Not only are they on the tutoring list—none of which I will ever touch, of course—but anyone with any knowledge of South Asian or gay cultures would know that you would need to have the right, not the left ear pierced.”

Somehow, this logic broke through Charles’s temper (which had to be a special skill of Edwin’s—most people manage to rile him up more). Charles paused in this process of emptying his jeans pockets and stared at his roommate/best friend, “Wait, what? Did you research that?”

Edwin didn’t blush often, but when he did it was always paired with the sternest of expressions and fiddling of his hands. Charles thought it was cute, not that he’d ever say that to another boy. But Edwin assumed that face and Charles thought about it anyway, slightly distracted as Edwin explained, “It was a long time ago, if you must know. Right when you came back with your left ear pierced, in fact. I was… concerned, that I may say something wrong or misinterpret any of it. I had no wish to offend you, which included not asking you outright. … So yes, I ‘researched’ it.”

Charles felt warm to his core in a good way for once, not how anger had been burning through him minutes before. Edwin had really taken the time to look it up, just for Charles? And—, “Wait, researched it how? The Indian ear piercing thing—which isn’t what this is, ‘n case that wasn’t clear—is usually for babies and they get both ears done. The gay thing— that’s not exactly in the library, innit?”

Edwin continued fidgeting, eventually pulling out his little personal notebook for reference of some sort, “In my research I found that which ear was pierced first was a gendered tradition—right ear first for boys, left ear first for girls. Following that was an awfully confusing description of some sort of thread used in place of an earring, which didn’t apply to your piercing so I chose not to pursue it further. As for the— the other, well. Do you remember the boy I tutor for mathematics?”

Charles wasn’t exactly following yet but couldn’t resist in of their usual jokes, “Monty or something, yeah? The one who’s gaga over you.”

As expected, Edwin rolled his eyes (and remained pink in the cheeks) and continued, “Monty, yes. One of his friends was in the area when our session wrapped up and came by to chat. Thomas, I think his name was. He had only one ear pierced as well, though his was on the right. I was pondering if I could naturally bring it up in conversation without being rude—“

“Aw, but you love being rude.”

Edwin’s flat stare caused giggles to flurry through Charles, who tried to quell them to better listen to the story, “—I had no interest in coming across as rude to a new acquaintance. He noticed me staring at the earring, unfortunately. He had already made some … interesting comments—“

Charles bristled, “Oi, what kind of interesting?”

Edwin somehow got redder and redder in the face by the second, “It’s unimportant to the story, Charles, now let me finish!” He waisted for Charles to nod before continuing, “Quite right. Now, Thomas had already complimented me and must have seen me as… I believe he thought that he and I were cut from similar cloth. He was all too glad to point out my staring at his jewellery, in front of Monty and all!, and tell me about its meaning. I was— mortified, to say the least. The proximity—“

“He made you uncomfortable? That wanker. What did you say his name was?” Charles couldn’t help himself—if someone was freaking Edwin out it was Charles who was going to bat, literally.

Edwin huffed, “He leaned in closer than I anticipated and whispered it to me. It caught me off guard. And considering he is a near stranger—yes, I was uncomfortable, but it is perfectly fine without any need for violence, Charles.”

Charles relaxed his grip on the cricket bat he kept at his nightstand, taking a deep breath to try and return to semi-peaceful. It was just him and Edwin, there was no present danger. If Edwin said it’s okay, he should trust him. Charles took another breath before responding, “Right. Well. If he ever does it again and you want to do something about it.”

Edwin’s soft smile returned, “Thank you, Charles. Though I do not believe it will come to that. But yes, that was my research at the time. I believe it was sometime during the infection that you admitted it was all for aesthetic purposes.”

Charles would usually get playfully riled up at that, but he was still keeping that anger bolted down in the basement of his mind so he decided against it. Naturally, he decided to return to jokes instead, “I can’t believe you were researching earrings just in case I was, what, a very late to the party traditional Indian baby? Or decided to pierce my eat instead of telling you I liked blokes? C’mon mate, have more faith in me than that!”

Charles must have said something wrong—Edwin’s fidgeting was back. The soft smile was all but gone, too, “Of course I do, I just— this was a while ago, and I—“ He sighed, running his hands through his usually perfectly gelled hair, looking directly at Charles for only a second, “Charles, I refuse to continue this conversation while you stand there in your boxers.”

Although tempted to poke fun at Edwin for being prudish, that was one of the issues he’d learned not to push—between his fucked up family and his general Edwin-ness, Charles had learned nudity, sex, and the like weren’t well-received. Maybe one of these days they could discuss all of that, but not today. They’d both had quite a lot of Feelings for today.

Charles resumed his usual grin, grabbing what he needed for a shower, “Well I’m showering before we continue, then. Am I all set to use the bathroom?”

Edwin waved him on, replacing his headphones and returning to his homework. Charles took the dismissal without issue and went to take his shower as intended—only stopping to stare at (the earring) himself in the mirror for a tad longer than normal. He’d never regret it based on how cool it looked, obviously, but still. Being kicked around for so long sometimes makes you wonder if it’s be easier to join the team.

Nah, fuck that. Those poor sods can’t even spell aesthetic, let alone understand it. The earring was part of him, and he still cuddled the warm feeling of Edwin’s care to his chest. Going through all that effort—well, not really effort to get flirted with by some bloke called Thomas—to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt Charles’s feelings? For not the first and definitely not the last time, Charles took a second to appreciate it—he really was lucky to have Edwin around.

[might-be-tiny-gt]

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Read The Story Index | First Chapter

Welcome to Chapter 1 of the TAoLaW "dramatic" reading. What can I say, the theatre kid in me needed to record this in audio format. Have I mentioned how much I love this fic? Yes? Well I'm saying it again, I LOVE THE ART OF LOVE AND WAR!!! If you haven't read it please go read it.

The Art of Love and War Is written by @fireflywritesgt and the audio reading is recorded and posted with permision.