#i feel like i have been so absent from here and the fanfic scene

[blueside-hobi]

first and last lines

Rules: go through your last 5 fics and share the first and last line. No context.

Thank you @schnaf <3

I never thought I would share any bit of my fanfics here but I guess I'm feeling like oversharing tonight. I'm going to be omitting titles and names because I'm still kind of self-conscious about my fics and I don't know if I want people to find them (also only two have names so most would be untitled anyway lol)

Untitled 1 (WIP)

[Redacted] watched as [Redacted] washed his hands off in the stream.

He could sit here all night wondering what he did wrong and it would eat away at him, but he finally grew exhausted enough to fall asleep, promising himself that he would apologize to [Redacted] in the morning.

Untitled 2

It was [Redacted]’s birthday tomorrow and [Redacted] figured what better way to celebrate than by surprising his boyfriend and coming home early from his business trip the night before.

It has to.

Untitled 3

When [Redacted] told her that he was going to be watching his parents’ house for a week through Christmas, [Redacted] felt her heart drop.

“God no,” he told her, laughing.

Untitled 4 (unfinished, most likely abandoned)

"Dammit, [Redacted]! I hope you're late!"

[Redacted] smiled back and headed out the door to his car.

Untitled 5 (unfinished, most likely abandoned, also this and Untitled 4 are the same fic but from a different perspective which is why they share the same last line)

It was [Redacted]'s first day of work as an actual teacher.

[Redacted] smiled back and headed out the door to his car.

I feel bad, but I honestly don't know who of my mutuals write fanfic, so if anyone wants to do this, go for it!

[ladyjang09]

Lovely Runner Fanfic | The Very First Night

Synopsis: Reimagining on what happens after the sofa scene. ‘Coz my smutty filled mind convinced me that they can’t get off their hands from each other. Im Sol is the first one to initiate “things”, ‘coz why not, she’s been suffering and longing for Sun Jae for 15 years. Expect a fluff on the first chapter then smut on the succeeding ones.

CHAPTER 1

Sun Jae and Sol lay intertwined on Sun Jae's luxurious leather sofa, the muted light of the setting sun casting a warm, golden glow over their faces. The apartment, a penthouse suite with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city, held an air of opulence and sophistication. Their breaths synchronized as they reminisced about the many lifetimes they had shared, both together and apart.

"It's funny, isn't it?" Sol's voice broke the comfortable silence. "How many times we've met and parted, only to find each other again."

Sun Jae chuckled softly, his fingers absently tracing patterns the necklace that’s now lay on Sol's graceful neck, now on its rightful owner. "Fate has a strange way of bringing us together, no matter the circumstances."

Their memories flowed like a seamless river, transcending time and space. There were lifetimes where they were lovers, others where they were merely friends, and some where they were strangers who crossed paths briefly. Each memory was vivid, etched into their souls like an intricate tapestry.

Sol's phone buzzed, disrupting their reverie. She glanced at the screen and sighed. "It's my mother. I should probably let her know I won't be coming home tonight."

Sun Jae watched as Sol typed a quick message, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the screen. Despite his wealth and fame, moments like this grounded him, reminding him of the simpler, more meaningful aspects of life. Yet, he felt a pang of anxiety in his chest. What now? What did he do with Sol in his apartment? He had longed for this moment for so long, yet now that it was here, he felt a strange, paralyzing fear.

He thought back to all the silly, embarrassing things he had done just to be with Sol, not having the courage to talk to her in person. Patiently waiting for her on their gate, silently following her to go to school, her, not aware of his presence. And acting cold when she showered her with her unexpected attention.

Still, the nagging feeling of not knowing how to act in her presence gnawed at him. He didn't want to make any more embarrassing mistakes, not now that they were finally here together. Desperate for advice, he discreetly pulled out his phone and texted his bandmate and best friend, Baek In-hyuk.

Yah, what do you do to impress a woman you like? he typed hurriedly.

In-hyuk's response was almost immediate: Finally getting over your Sol-itude, huh? I told you, don’t be a lovesick puppy on Producer Im, you’re just embarrassing yourself. How many times that she declined you, man!

Sun Jae winced at the irony. If only In-hyuk knew. He glanced at Sol, who was now scrolling through her own phone, blissfully unaware of his internal turmoil.

Yeah, something like that. Any tips? Sun Jae texted back, hoping his friend wouldn't pry too much.

Be yourself. Make her laugh. Show her you care in small ways. And whatever you do, don't try too hard. Women can sense desperation a mile away, In-hyuk replied.

 Sun Jae stared at the text, frustration gnawing at him. Be himself? Make her laugh? Don’t try too hard? He already did those things— embarrassing himself in the convenience store, following her around just to get her approval on him being part of her movie, riding the Ferris wheel with her, invading her space, taking her to his apartment when she got sick, hiding her shoes the day after just to have a breakfast together, driving in the middle of the night to her neighborhood just to give her, her medicine, an excuse just to see her beautiful face and just bask on her presence.

Sun Jae sighed, his friend's advice both comforting and unsettling. He slowly went to Sol and hug her from behind, his head automatically sniffing her citrusy scent. He fought the primal urge to bite down on the delicate skin exposed at the nape of her neck. It was a place he’d dreamt of exploring, a secret haven he yearned to uncover since the day he got a flashback on their intimate kiss on the foyer of her apartment.

He loosened his hold slightly, his voice a husky whisper against her ear, “You smelled like a rain shower and a sunshine at the same time.”

Sol giggled, a soft, melodic sound that sent shivers down his spine.

As they lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace, Sun Jae made a silent vow to confront his insecurities. He has lot of practice in his numerous movies. Surely, he would apply a thing or two. This is their first night as a couple, he only wanted to feel her embrace and kiss her senseless. Nothing more. Knowing she isn’t ready for the next step of their relationship.

He nearly got a heart attack when Sol moved her head and kissed his open palm. The gentle gesture shook him. His heart pounding, he watched as she kissed her way up his arm to his lips.

Sun Jae froze, caught between surprise and a surge of unfamiliar desire. He felt a blush creep up his neck as he hesitantly met her kiss, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

The unexpected intimacy left Sun Jae breathless. His carefully constructed plans for the night, filled with practices charm and gentle flirtation, were thrown out the window. In their place, a delicious confusion bloomed in his chest.

He wasn’t complaining. Far from it. As her soft lips grazed his palm, a warmth spread through him, chasing away the lingering chill of his self- control. He watched, mesmerizing, as she ascended his arm, leaving a trail of tingling kisses in her wake. By the time her lips met his, a million questions danced on the tip of his tongue, but all he could manage was soft, surprised sound.

Im Sol stopped on her ministrations. She hastily got up from the sofa, blushing and stuttering on her embarrassment. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t know what comes over me to do that.”

What had I just done? Panic clawed at her throat. We’d just confessed our feelings for each other, and here I was throwing myself at him like a lovesick teenager.

“Sol”, Sun Jae said, his voice low and careful, breaking the silence that stretched between them. His eyes were dark, searching for hers, and she saw a flicker of understanding there. A flicker that made the heat in her cheeks travel down to her center.

“I—I’m sorry,” she fumbled for words, tripping over her tangled emotions. Im Sol desperately wishing the sofa would swallow her whole. “I just…got carried away,’ she stammered.

Sun Jae reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he brushed a strand of hair away from Sol’s face. “Don’t be sorry, love,” Sun Jae whispered. “I want this…love this more than you do.”

[callmedarlingsstuff]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖓 𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓𝖘

A/n this is my first ever fanfic. Pls be gentle with me...hope u like it!! Also constructive criticism is appreciated

Warnings:- mentions of death, childbirth and absent father

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 1 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬

“The second wife of King Viserys I Targaryen had been swelling quite massively during her third pregnancy. Many predicted her to be carrying multiples. Whilst the young Queen was trying to mend her broken friendship with the Princess Rhaenyra, in her womb grew the ones who were destined to change the course of the Targaryen history.”

             ~ Archmaester Gyldayn on ‘The women of house Targaryen’  

110 AC

Alicent had tried whatever means she could partake in order to make Rhaenyra understand but Rhaenyra was adamant on ignoring her. How could she make her understand that she had no intentions on marrying the King? It was the king himself that chose her. Now here she was in her room crying her heart out for her broken friendship while she was heavy with her third child. She hated herself for being so obedient, for being dutiful. All the more she hated herself for loving Rhaenyra. No matter what the princess said, her heart would still beat for the white haired  Valyrian woman. Stupid traitorous heart!!

How would she ever confess to Rhaenyra. It was a sin in the eyes of the seven! A woman having romantic feelings for another woman, but how could she stop her heart from falling for the purple eyed beauty. Now Rhaenyra won’t even look at her. She gave out an agonised scream and her knees gave out. She sat there on the carpeted floors of her chambers sobbing for her lost love, cursing her fate. 

Her sadness slowly turned into anger. Anger towards her father for putting her in this situation, anger towards the King for choosing her, anger towards this damned babe inside her, who would not stop kicking. In a fit of rage she balled her fists and started hitting her swollen belly. This damned babe and all the other babes she bore to the King were at fault. She could’ve been barren, without child but those seeds of the King had to take shelter in her womb. She knew what her actions would lead to, she knew this could lead to her loosing the babe, but she didn’t care. Maybe loosing the babe would make the King leave her alone. She had already birthed a son and a daughter.

She went on hitting her stomach, screaming in pain yet she didn’t stop. It wasn’t until Ser Criston Cole came inside the chambers and held her hands did she notice the pool of blood that stained the floor. 

“My Queen please stop hurting yourself!” Ser Criston said while holding the Queen’s hands in order to stop her from continuing the assault.”Unhand me Ser Criston!”, Alicent scremed, “ Unhand me at once!”

The Queen’s chambers were flooded with people witnessing the Queen having an emotional breakdown. Rhaenyra was standing at the doorway, having been alerted by the ruckus. The King came marching down the corridor followed by the Hand. He saw his firstborn standing at the door of his wife’s chambers, while she was distraught. He came forward and asked,” What’s the matter Rhaenyra?"

“She’s just throwing a fit. A ploy of hers to get attention” Rhaenyra exclaimed with a blank face. She then turned and left the scene. The Hand of the King witnessed the entire conversation stone faced.

The King entered the chambers to the sight of his wife sitting on the floors, a pool of blood at her feet, in the arms of her sworn shield screaming in pain while clutching her belly. Viserys gazed at the scene bewildered. “Get the Maesters you fools!” barked out the Hand of the king, "And get her Grace off the floors". The maids rushed to pick up the queen who was now moaning in pain. "No! No! Stay away from me! Let me die!", cried the queen refusing any maid to hold her.

"Stop this madness Alicent! What has gotten into you?" Exclaimed Otto while thinking of ways to calm his daughter. Clearly she was going through a lot. "Your Grace in order to let the masters examine, you should lay down on the bed", Ser Criston said trying to coax the young girl. He might not know what pains she was going through but as her sworn shield he couldn't let her be in pain any longer. "No! Pls no!" Alicent went on muttering as Ser Criston lifted her gently from the floors and laid her on her bed. The white sheets quickly staining crimson red.

The King witnessed the entire situation silently without any word of comfort towards his despaired wife. The maesters rushed into the chambers along with the midwives. The grandmaester started to examine Alicent at once. "Her Grace has started her labors!", exclaimed the grandmaester.

All of the Red Keep could hear the agonising screams of Alicent. It was a difficult birth, the maesters had informed Viserys that it might come down to the death of either the mother or the child. The King sat outside of his wife's chambers listening to her calls. He couldn't fathom loosing his second wife in childbirth. He had already lost his love not his second wife. Alicent's screams reminded him of that unfategul day when he lost Aemma.

While the King sat mourning his already dead wife, the Hand was found in the Sept, praying to the mother. Otto Hightower might not show it but he loved his daughter, the one who looked exactly like his deceased wife. His children were the last remaining sign of his lady wife and we would not loose them to these incestuous Targaryens. He couldn't aid in these matters, so he prayed, the only thing he could do at that moment.

Princess Rhaenyra was back in her solar reading, while a bard played. The pained screams of her now stepmother could be heard clearly. She huffed and shuffled in her seat beside the window,"Play louder!", she ordered the bard and went back to reading.

The Queen was in labour for sixteen hours. And gave birth to not one but two Targaryen babes, with silver hair and violet orbs. It was rumoured that the girl babe was an exact replica of the then Queen, which later proved to be true as the princess grew

A son and a daughter. Two pieces of the same soul. The two infants were much smaller than their siblings. Alicent was pale faced and had lost a lot of blood, she was ready to collapse anytime soon. But the faces of her children kept her going. Her son looked quite similar to the King, with his lilac eyes. Her daughter was a different case. Looking down at her daughter was like looking in a mirror. She had inherited all of her facial features except her hair and eyes. The infant had half opened one of her eyes and she could see that her daughter had amethyst eyes, a little darker than her brother's.

Queen Alicent would raise them to be pious and teach them how to serve the people of the kingdom. She would teach her daughter to be diplomatic and how to take her place in court and the council without letting any man bring her down. Her son would be taught how to respect women and treat them correctly. She would raise these children the way she couldn't raise her other two. She would do it right this time.

Thus the Dragon Twins were born who would later come to be known as Aemond 'One Eye' Targaryen and Visenya Targaryen 'the people's princess'.

[delicateartisantrash]

Excerpt from "Scoped Out"

I will likely never post the full fic in its entirety, as it is very much not a properly organized story like most my other writings. I just write whatever comes to mind to de-stress, so the scenes jump around a bit.

Anyhow, this is a cute scene with Crosshair for a mildly force-sensitive, female Reader character who ends up joining the Bad Batch as a janitor to take care of the barracks on Kamino, after helping them escape a newly occupied Separatist city that they were living in. The Reader (aka 'Butterfly' as she's been nicknamed) was injured during the escape from her home planet, so she's been healing on the Havoc Marauder on the way back to Kamino. Also, fight me, I tweaked canon with my magical keyboard powers and made Crosshair's bunk the one most easily accessible from ground-level, rather than Hunter's. It's fanfic, roll with it.

I have all kinds of ideas about toothpicks.

---

“How long will we be in hyperspace for?” you wonder from where you lay on your back, scooted as far over in Crosshair’s bunk as you can get to make room for Omega, who lounges on her back next to you, legs bent, a datapad in her hand. She’s been chatting your ears off for the last hour or two, which you’ve welcomed sincerely. Hunter keeps looking over at you both like he’s worried his kid is pestering you -- because despite the men all referring to Omega as their little sister, you have a feeling Hunter has a more paternal stake in his feelings. In any case, wherever she is, he’s not far behind you’ve noticed. Echo is a short second, at least in terms of supervising, but you’ve noticed Wrecker spends a lot of time with her as well.

“About three days is what Tech said, but Echo thinks it will be more like four,” she answers absently, still focused on the datapad before she brightens, and turns it to show you a photo of the entire squadron on some forested planet, posed together for a picture. “Here! This is it, this is when Wrecker had the art done on his armor.”

Though she’s showing off the photo to embellish a detail in her storytelling, the first thing you notice in the picture is Crosshair’s expression.

Unlike most the photos Omega has shown you, in this one, the tall sniper is smiling. Not a smirk, a taunting gloat, or his resting frown, but an easy, good-natured smile that softens the entire features of his face.

You’re not aware you’re staring, transfixed, until Omega suddenly turns the datapad around to look at the screen herself, an eyebrow raised.

“What are you looking at…?” she wonders, her eyes flicking rapidly back and forth as she no doubts studies the photo

“Nothing,” you say without meaning to; your ears feel warm.

Omega gasps, and beams at the photo she’s looking at.

“I was just looking at--”

“Hi, Crosshair!” Omega blurts suddenly, lifting her head up off the pillow.

You jerk your head to look up at him, not having heard him approach, fighting to keep your expression neutral. His eyes linger on you for a moment before flicking down to the datapad Omega is holding, and he pulls the toothpick out of his mouth to address her.

“Hey, kid. What are you doing?” he wonders, holding out his hand. Omega beams up at him as she easily passes the holopad over, and the man studies the group photo on the screen for several moments, before a smile tugs at the corner of his lips, softening his features.

You know you’re staring, and if anyone calls you on it, you will absolutely blame it on the medicines’ lingering after-effects.

Crosshair hands the device back to Omega, the smile gone but his features still softer than before, the hard line of his brows relaxed into an amiable expression.

“That was an interesting mission. Ask Hunter to tell you what the inside of a Kobbo-bo looks like,” he suggests with a smirk.

From the cockpit, Hunter’s muffled voice shouts something along the lines of “Kriff off, Cross!”

Omega’s eyes go wide and round, her mouth dropping open.

“Whaaaaaaat?” she gasps, and before either of you can say anything, the girl flips herself off the bunk and bolts down the ship for the cockpit as Crosshair watches her go, amused. You’re blinking after her, rather glad she managed not to jostle you on her hasty way out, because--

You just about jump out of your skin when the mattress dips a bit beside you, and Crosshair settles himself down onto the vacated spot, leaning against the wall with his upper shoulders and neck. The pillow Omega had been using, stolen from Echo’s bunk, fills the small gap and braces his back. He’s skinny enough that he fits in Omega’s place just fine, though his much broader shoulders fill the space completely as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You gape at him, but the sniper’s eyes are already closed as he lets his head fall back, resting against the wall with a tired sigh.

After a few moments, heart fluttering, you slowly relax, knowing your cheeks are probably as pink as Echo’s had been during The Refresher Incident.

“I’m not Hunter,” Crosshair abruptly speaks, breaking the silence, “but even I can tell your heart accelerates every time I come near you. Why is that?” he wonders.

“How can you tell?” you ask as exactly that starts happening again, your heart pounding in your ears. You don’t even bother to deny it, wondering what his intentions are in asking in the first place.

Eyes you can mistake as golden when the light hits them just right, as it does now, open to slant sideways down at you.

“Every detail in my scope of vision is observed and processed at precisely the same time,” he explains quietly, and suddenly, you feel a shiver creeping over your skin for every time you’ve thought he wasn’t paying attention to you in his peripheral vision. “Many lifeform’s pulses are strong enough that I can see the movement of the fabric, if not the veins themselves,” he explains, his gaze never leaving yours. “Hold still long enough, and even your eyes should be able to focus on it. Mine see details like that without having to try,” he explains, then smirks. “Echo thinks I called you a butterfly because of your hairpiece.”

Your heart stutters. Crosshair is the one who coined the source of your nickname?

“Why did you call me Butterfly?” you ask curiously, aware your face is warm as you hold perfectly still, trying not to betray yourself as easily as you apparently had been. You don't think it's working.

His lips tug further up on one side, and Crosshair’s gaze flicks down briefly before he straightens his head forward again, eyes drifting shut. His lips still curve in a little, easy smirk that is doing dangerous things to your insides, hanging out on a face like that.

“Your heart flutters like a winged insect,” he drawls, almost poetic.

“Ah…” is your articulate reply.

His smirk turns into a smile.

“Your pupils dilate,” he continues, conversationally. “Your gaze drifts around like you can’t focus. Shift your weight, flare your nostrils, turn pink as a burra fruit,” he lists off. “You’re watching me when you think I’m looking elsewhere.”

Kriff, had you been staring at him that much?

This close to him, you can practically sense his easy mood and amusement. You want to say he looks smug, but there’s more to it than that.

A single honey-brown eye opens to peek at you, neatly framed by his severe tattoo.

“Um,” you manage. It’s a start. Stars, you’re trying to form words to speak, but all you can manage is staring up at him, unable to look away.

“Hm,” he answers.

Hesitantly, you shift your shoulders and reach over with your right arm. Crosshair’s gaze immediately shifts to watch the progress of your hand directly, his head leaning back a bit on reflex as you near his face.

Your fingers still shake a little bit, especially with lifting your arm this high up from your chest, but you manage to neatly pluck the toothpick from his mouth, then tuck it between your own lips, rolling it over your teeth with your tongue until you settle it comfortably in the corner, watching him.

The possessive gleam in his eyes sends heat pooling in your belly.

You thought you were being very clever, showing him you’re interested in intimacy without having to say it out loud with your tongue being tied up in knots. It’s probably better you don’t say it out loud anyhow, with how many ears are on the ship. You’re pretty sure Hunter has already figured out your little crush, but he’s not made any mention of it.

Your mouth nearly drops open when Crosshair abruptly turns at the hips at the same time he pushes off from the wall and leans down. His face fills your vision as he hovers over you without coming into contact, the scent of campfire smoke, that perpetual metal-and-oil scent that weaponry has, and his own personal scent clouding your nose.

Crosshair bites the other end of the toothpick and easily plucks it from your mouth, holding your gaze.

Breathless, your fingers twitch, wanting to grab him, but you hold yourself back, acutely aware of how not alone you both are on the ship.

As if to punctuate the thought, you hear footsteps approaching as someone leaves the front of the ship.

By the time Echo appears in view, you’ve thrown an arm over your eyes to feign sleep, and Crosshair has returned to a relaxed state leaning against the wall with crossed-arms, rolling the toothpick idly in his teeth.

[ikeromantic]

My Favorite Place

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic, Approx. 2600 words. This scene takes place after the romantic epilogue and completely inside my head. Fluff!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Lunches with Friends

The letter from Sasuke arrived on the same day Mitsuhide planned to speak with Nobunaga - to request permission to take his little one on a journey.

The timing of the ninja’s reply could not be better. His letter said the passage 'home' would be open in less than a month’s time, ‘assuming calculations are correct.’

He also went on to say he was uncertain how regular these passages would be. And that he didn’t recommend travel unless all parties were committed to the destination.

An interesting wrinkle in Mitsuhide’s plans. He did not want to be caught, 500 years from all his plans, his allies, his work. It struck him then that this was what his little mouse had done. Perhaps not purposely, not when she left. But she’d chosen - for him - to abandon all she knew and held dear. How could he shrink at the possibility of doing the same for her?

These thoughts swirled through him as he mounted the steps of the tenshu. He did his best to bottle them up when he reached the door. In dealing with Nobunaga, he must have a clear mind.

Mitsuhide knocked lightly. The door opened.

His little mouse stood there, looking quite surprised to see him.

He smiled at her, hiding his own surprise. She’d gone out shopping today, or so Kyubei told him. Either his vassal was slipping or the chatelaine was improving her skill at misdirection. “Little one. I see you arrived ahead of me.”

Mitsuhide studied her expression. She looked pleased. Her cheeks were pink, eyes bright. His gaze passed her into the room beyond. Nobunaga sat, his newest tea set in use on the table. Ranmaru stood nearby, head down. The kitsune warlord wondered what transpired, but he knew he would get it from his little one later, if nothing else. She couldn’t dissemble well enough to avoid his direct questions.

“I . . . didn’t realize you were dropping by too! We could have had tea together.” She fiddled with the tie on her obi.

“Yes. We could have. I was under the impression you were in town. How silly of me.” Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow.

His little one had the grace to blush. “Ah, well, I am going to town. Now. To shop.” She looked down.

Mitsuhide chuckled. She was still so very innocent, even when she tried to be tricky. He cupped her cheek and gently raised her head to look at him. “Then allow me to kiss you goodbye.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Slowly, savoring the moment he felt her relax into his touch, responding with her mouth, her body.

She took a step closer to him, and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Mmm,” Mitsuhide smiled as he pulled back from her. “I will see you at home later. You will be back before dinner?”

“Yes.” Her voice was a tad breathless.

“Good. I am sure we will have many things to discuss.” His golden eyes shone with curiosity that would not be denied.

His little mouse nodded. “See you later, then.” She scurried past and down the stairs.

“Was that for my benefit,” Nobunaga asked dryly.

“It was for mine.” Mitsuhide entered and bowed.

Nobunaga gestured him forward. “Sit. I expected to see you today.”

“I thought you might.” Mitsuhide sat and waited quietly while Ranmaru poured tea.

“Do you have something to report?”

Mitsuhide sipped at the hot tea, considering what he did have to say, beyond requesting time absent from Azuchi. His gaze drifted to Ranmaru and then back to Nobunaga.

His lord’s eyes narrowed. “Ranmaru, you are needed in the kitchen.”

“My lord?” The page looked up, surprised.

“The kitchen,” Nobunaga repeated.

Ranmaru gave a quick bow and hurried out. He cast one look at Mitsuhide over his shoulder, a nervous glance, and then he was gone.

“Thank you my lord. I do prefer privacy for our discussions.”

Nobunaga frowned slightly. He said nothing, only waited for his warlord to continue.

Mitsuhide picked out a few gems to share. “The Aki province is not as peaceful as Hideyoshi has been led to believe. The coalition he is working on a treaty with will fall apart. They are not honest in their dealings.”

Nobunaga’s brow furrowed. “How do you know this?”

“A bit of information here, some there. I put it together. The Mouri clan will continue to defy you, I am sure. And there is more. The Ikko Ikki still have much influence among the common folk. They continue to recruit and train. It is only a matter of time before they make another attempt on your life.”

“That isn’t news so much as a certainty.” Nobunaga gestured imperiously. “They will yield or fall. I do not fear Kennyo.”

“It isn’t the demon abbot I worry about either. It is the forces that seek to use him. He was once friends with The Tiger of the Kai, and some of his followers have been seen in Sakai, speaking with foreign merchants.” Mitushide shrugged. “I cannot say what it will mean.”

Nobunaga nodded. He hadn’t forgotten their enemies in Echigo.

“I have placed some people in each camp, watching. If an opportunity arises -”

“I trust my left hand to deal with the knives at my back.” He smiled for the first time since Mitsuhide’s arrival. “But I think you came to do more than report?”

Mitsuhide bowed his head. “Perceptive as always, my lord.” He cleared his throat. “I need to be absent for a time. With my fiancee. I wish to show her Sakamoto, and to take her to the Mino province. Perhaps . . . further.”

Nobunaga was quiet for a moment. “How long do you intend to be gone?”

“A month? Likely more.”

“You would take my good luck charm and leave me one-handed, knowing my enemies surround us?” Nobunaga didn’t sound angry, only curious. He knew Mitsuhide always had some sort of plan in mind.

“Think more than your left hand will be out of sight, rather than gone.” Mitsuhide looked up.

Nobunaga regarded him with those impenetrable carnelian eyes. He was one man the kitsune warlord could never fully read. “And my good luck charm?”

“Will be in good hands.”

“And if I say no?” One brow rose in question.

Mitsuhide smiled, sharp and thin. “Have I ever betrayed you?”

Nobunaga laughed, a full throated, head thrown back guffaw. It faded to a chuckle and then just a smile. “You may go. I expect you to bring my luck charm back unharmed and in good spirits.”

He bowed again. “I will endeavor not to disappoint you.”

“You will not.” Nobunaga’s eyes were hard, though he still smiled.

Mitsuhide spent the rest of his day wondering what his lord and his lover had talked about. He could think of a dozen things. A sewing commission? Her work as chatelaine? Funds? Was there something she needed - and had she gone to Nobunaga for it? Not knowing bothered him more than he expected.

Worse, Kyubei was nowhere to be found. A fact that made him certain his vassal knew what she was up to. Of all the things Mitsuhide had expected to share with his lover, his vassal’s loyalty had not been his first thought. Not that he minded . . . much. But Kyubei’s first oath was to him.

He nearly went to Azuchi to look for the two of them. But patience was always the wiser course. Instead, he busied himself at the manor, sending missives to his castles and telling them to expect his arrival. Then, preparing his manor servants for an extended absence. They knew what to do and needed very little instruction.

Despite his attempts at distraction, he was on pins until he heard Kyubei and his little mouse return. They were laughing as they walked into the hall, his vassal’s low voice an indistinct rumble under her high, sweet chatter.

“We were lucky we -” She stopped speaking as Kyubei interrupted.

“We were! I did tell you, my lady. I expect we will need to -” His vassal stopped himself, then continued on a whole different topic. “Ready yourself for dinner with my lord. I will check on the menu. Do you need a maid?”

“No, Kyubei. I think I can handle it. Thank you, again.”

“It is the least I owe you.”

Her laugh, sweet and gentle. “You owe me nothing. But I’d like to think we’re friends now.”

“We are, my lady.”

Mitsuhide looked out in time to see Kyubei bow and leave for the kitchens. Clearly he suspected they were being listened to. What lucky thing had happened? And what did he expect they would need to do? His little one was turning into quite the conspirator. She would need to deliver herself of these secrets. Her lover had some ideas on how best to get them out of her.

He waited until she was in her rooms to approach, sliding her door open silently. She was dressed in just her underclothes, a cool, wet cloth pressed to her face. She didn’t hear him as he came in, and shut the door behind him.

Mitsuhide took advantage of the moment to see if she’d brought any packages, but there was nothing new in her room. He came up behind her and settled his arms around her waist.

His little one shrieked and leapt up. She put her foot back and tried to pull him forward, but that move only worked if he was moving that direction when she did it. Like this, it was ineffective, but he was proud of her for trying. She turned, ready to place an elbow in his ribs, and then she saw who had her.

“Mitsuhide! You - you bastard!” Her cheeks were bright pink, all the way to the tips of her ears.

“Are you angry with me, little mouse?”

“No. Yes! You scared me!”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “And are you still afraid?”

She shook her head. “Just mad at you.”

“Oh? Then I will have to make it up to you.” He bent down to kiss the nape of her neck. “I cannot bear for you to be angry with me.” He kissed along her neck, enjoying the little sigh of pleasure that escaped her lips.

“It’s going to t-take more than a few kisses. Tease.”

“I have much more than that in mind.” Mitsuhide sat and pulled her into his lap. He hadn’t realized how much he missed holding her until she was in his arms. His unsettled feelings faded as she nestled against his chest.

“I missed you today.”

“And I, you.” He kissed her and it made the one they’d shared at the tenshu seem a pale shadow for the warmth and passion in it. Mitsuhide stroked her back and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

They parted, reluctant and breathless. Neither said anything for awhile. And then they both spoke at once.

“What were you -”

“Why were you -”

She laughed. “You first.”

“Alright.” He shifted her to face away from him and began unpinning her hair. Mitsuhide told himself it was because she was less guarded when enjoying herself, but the truth was, he just liked the feel of it. He waited until he’d released her hair from it’s bun, and began gently combing his fingers through it, before he spoke again. “I wondered what you went to Nobunaga for. Did he summon you?”

“Mmmm, no . . . I just had to talk to him.” She sighed happily at his gentle ministrations.

“Oh? Is your lover allowed to know what you talked about?”

She gave a breathy laugh. “Are you jealous, Mitsuhide?”

“No.” He scowled. “A little.” It was more than jealousy, and less. A layered emotion. He didn’t fear that she loved someone else. No one could take her from him. It wasn’t that. It was . . . Nobunaga’s claim on her as his charm. His casual ownership of her as an Oda princess. Coming from his lord, he could accept it but if she saw herself that way . . .

“I needed to talk to him about us. I didn’t want bad feelings. He was my boss after all. Still is, I guess.” She laughed again.

“About us, little one?” His heart thudded suddenly in his chest.

She bent her head forward and took a breath. “I hope you don’t think it’s silly. I just wanted him to know I love you. And that I needed to be here with you.”

Mitsuhide froze. Of all the things he thought they might have discussed, he hadn’t thought she went to Nobunaga to have a heart-to-heart.

“Of course, I let him know I still care about him, and the others. I mean, I haven’t abandoned them - I’m still around.” She realized he wasn’t moving. “Is that alright? Mitsuhide? Did I say something I shouldn’t have?” She looked at him, worried.

He pulled her into a hug, burying his face against her shoulder. “You have no idea . . .”

She kissed him on the side of his head. “I don’t understand you sometimes. Most times, actually. I thought you might be angry.”

“I am never angry with you.” He sat up and resumed finger-combing her hair. Mitsuhide was intensely glad no one could see how easily she disarmed him. Took apart his plans and defenses and left him bare by just being so adorable.

“Is that all you wanted to know?”

“About Nobunaga, yes. How did your shopping go? Was Kyubei a help?” Mitushide was relaxed now, confident her answer would be as innocent as the first.

“Shopping went fine. Kyubei was great. He is really very resourceful.”

“Oh?” Mitsuhide began to braid her hair. His dextrous fingers were good at three and five strand plaits. It was a little like tying a bond, or ropework. But infinitely more pleasant.

“Yes. We - we found what we needed to.”

“And what was that?”

She shrugged. “Just, stuff. Nothing to be interested in.”

Mitsuhide knew deflection when he heard it. “But I am, little mouse. Did you find some new fabric? A tool for your sewing kit?”

“No . . . don’t worry about it.”

“Is it a secret?” Mitsuhide’s eyes shone. “You know how much I like teasing secrets from you.”

She wriggled in his lap, as if considering escape.

He tied off the braid with a ribbon and leaned down to nip her neck. With his lips against her ear, he whispered, “Is that what you want me to do?”

“N-no! This is - Mitsuhide - that’s not fair!” She nestled back against him as if defeated. “I’ll tell you if you really want to know. But I’d rather keep it a surprise.”

Ah, what a conundrum. He wanted to know everything about her, especially the things she wanted to hide. But he knew how hard she tried to surprise him. His gorgeous haori was the latest example, though he’d figured it out only a week into its construction.

Mitsuhide stroked his hands down her arms, soothing. “I will be patient then. Until your surprise is ready. But . . . we’ll be traveling soon. Will that be a problem?”

She made a happy squeal. “Are we going to visit your home? On a vacation?”

“Yes, love. I spoke with Nobunaga about it and he has granted us both leave.”

“I can’t wait. I want to see all your favorite places. Hear all the stories about you as a boy! Will you introduce me to your family?” She sounded so excited. It pleased Mitsuhide to no end to hear joy in her voice.

“My family has passed, but I will be glad to introduce you to those that remain. I will show you everything you might find beautiful, but you should know little one, my favorite place is wherever you are.”

Next: My Home Is Your Home

[wildflower-daydreamer]

Gloomy - november drabbles - day 12

Day 12 of @creativepromptsforwriting November drabbles

The weather matched his gloomy mood – dark, gray, morose. The low clouds were heavy with rain just waiting to fall over Los Angeles. It all suited Jon right now as he stood by the huge sliding glass wall, wishing it would rain so he could step onto the balcony and let the sullenness wash over him.

He knew he was being overly dramatic. Sansa didn’t deserve this. She invited him over to work on a few scenes they had coming up. The next season would start filming soon and they wanted to get things just right. But, on his way to her place, Jon had just been told he wouldn’t be getting the movie role he really wanted. So, when he showed up at her door, her cheerful and excited smile was met with a half-hearted, nearly nonexistent one. To her credit, she said all the right things to try to make him feel better as soon as she got the news out of him. A caring hand gently placed on his arm, earnest eyes shining bright as she swore he’d find a better role. Honestly, he did feel somewhat better, but he hadn’t yet shaken completely free from the discouragement that engulfed him.

“We don’t have to do this today, Jon. I’d understand,” she offered sweetly, handing him a hot mug of coffee.

“No. It’s definitely better that I’m here and not holed up alone in my hotel room to just overthink everything.”

“You can chill here without us having to go over lines, dork. Here,” she said, sitting on the couch with her laptop and typing something. “Arya showed me something that I sometimes use when I need some cheering up. It’s equal parts surreal, funny, and actually good.” She patted the spot next to her for him to sit.

“What is this?” he asked, looking at the screen, Sansa scrolling through a very long list of links with descriptions. She got comfortable once he sat, throwing her long leg over his lap and nestling into his side, his hand resting on her ankle. It was a common occurrence that Jon absolutely loved.

“Fan fiction. About our characters.”

“All of that?” The list seemed never ending.

“Yup. People really ‘ship’ us, as they say.” Their characters weren’t together in the show. But their chemistry on screen was definitely talked about and asked about in interviews. It wasn’t hard for Jon to act like he was secretly in love with her. He had a crush on her for a while. But once their characters met up on the show and he and Sansa spent more time together than before, he was done for.

“You read them to cheer up?”

“Yeah. At first, I thought it was silly but Arya insisted it works. And it did. These people are so creative. I dunno. It kinda feels like we’re doing something right if this many fanfics exist about our characters and our portrayals of them,” she shrugged. “Or is this completely self-centered?” she laughed.

“It’s worth a shot. Do you have a favorite?”

Sansa clicked a link and began reading. It was a continuation of a scene they did in a previous season. It was different and innovative, but still stayed true to their characters’ qualities. It veered into a romantic type of plot, something that is only subtly hinted at on the show. It was sweet and gentle, the characters caring for one another after their rough storylines merged. But the sexual tension was simmering just under the surface, and it kept growing. Soon, that steadily rising heat turned to pure eroticism. Sansa was saying things he never thought he’d hear come out of her mouth. He was suddenly very aware of her leg that stretched across him, smooth and bare in her lounge shorts, fuzzy pink slippers on her feet. As she read on, Jon could vividly imagine their characters acting out the scene. His hand absently travelled slowly up to her shin. If this continued to get hotter, he’d have to figure out a way to hide the growing stiffness in his jeans. He listened to the words, racy details spilled from her lips and Jon thought he could hear her breath getting a little ragged. His hand cupped her calf, grasping gently, and there was a slight hitch to her voice. His hand reached her knee and her legs seemed to automatically spread apart just a bit more. Her breathing was becoming more labored, and Jon decided it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

“’His fingertips whispered across the delicate skin along her inner thigh,’” Sansa read, almost a hoarse whisper now. Jon moved his fingers, an imperceptible touch from her knee and up a little along the inside of her thigh. “Jon,” she sighed.

He looked to her breathless face. It was a familiar one, filled with passion and tension, that her character often gave his. But this one was real, and it was just for him. Her imploring eyes reeled him in, her soft lips in a gentle smile melted him. She held his gaze as she set the laptop aside. Her hand grasped his and slowly moved it up her thigh, his fingers sliding under the leg of her shorts until he brushed at the wet fabric that covered her. Jon groaned with desire at the feel of it, realizing she was just as turned on as he was. She whimpered beneath his touch, unabashedly wanting more.

“Yes,” she breathed. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she brought him into her kiss. Her lips were even softer than they looked. He pressed his fingers harder against her, finding her sensitive nub, and she bucked against him, her moan escaping their interlocked lips.

Outside, the dark clouds opened and the rain finally started to fall, but Jon’s mood no longer matched the weather.

[thewhitefluffyhat]

Day Two

[This is the third part of a collected liveblog/analysis of Nona the Ninth! See here for the other parts.]

In this section, I fixate on character names and other weird worldbuilding details!

Chapter 7

-Yup, so Nona is also the one dreaming. And it appears that John is seeing Nona-in-Harrowbod, hence the conflation!

Guessing we’ll get one of these whenever Nona sleeps, so in between each day.

[Later me: Wow, past me sure was confidently wrong here!]

-The weird thing is that the dreams Nona described to Cam are nothing like the chapters we just read…

-Oh? Red eyes in the darkness - those are from Harrow’s skeletons guarding the pool. So yes, this is very likely the pool scene.

-p80 And here is the infamous cheeseburger t-shirt!

-p82 - We Suffer doesn’t like Pyrrha because she makes them think of God being a man? That’s a confusing one. Was We Suffer a House defector? Why would she care about John-as-God? Surely the BOE doesn’t think of him in those terms.

-I really need to start taking notes on who calls who what.  Pal and Pyrrha are mostly on last name basis. Pal uses Cam for Camilla. That kind of thing.

[Later me: as a side note - for Japanese media fandoms, which I’m most familiar with, I’ve often made extensive tables and lists to keep track of which honorifics different characters use for each other when writing fanfic. And writing TLT actually feels surprisingly similar - the characters usually have at least 4+ different ways of referring to each other. First name, last name, House affiliation, House-specific title, and potentially multiple nicknames which they are only called by certain characters in certain circumstances. Like, does Harrow use “Griddle” for Gideon while in public? Is it generally accepted to refer to Coronabeth as “Corona” to her face? These are the kinds of nuances that keep me up at night!

If I ever undertake a full series re-read project, I am legitimately considering making an extensive spreadsheet to keep track of all the combinatorics…]

-p84 - Ah, so here we’re again getting into the question of brain meat. Seems like Cam and Pal can’t last like what they’re doing.

Interesting to hear more about the Transference trial from Pyrrha’s side! Sounds like that could also have been something that killed Gideon by accident, like the Avulsion trial. Whoopsie.

-p86 Huh! According to Pyrrha, the Ninth was settled (and grim) even before Anastasia arrived. Another note to add to the timeline!

-p93 People with white/no eyes in a cargo trawler, that all look up at the same time, hm? I’m not even sure what that could be. Possibly necromancy of a sort? Perhaps they were constructs?

-p94 One of the big mysteries of the book appears to be “what is the Convoy.” Pyrrha knows what a normal convoy is, but this seems to be something else, something bigger that the kids don’t have the right word for.

[Later me: That being said, apart from “who/what is Nona?” - something that can be guessed even before reading the story - this book is surprisingly absent of (murder) mysteries and intrigue. It’s yet another aspect that sets it apart from GtN and HtN. I personally love mysteries, so I did miss it, but I’m sure lots of people feel the opposite!]

Chapter 8

-Noodle is a Good Dog (even when wriggling out of his shoes) and Nona’s fake conversation is... exactly what I would expect from her, so I really don’t have anything to say about this chapter? It is a very short chapter!

I am still very curious what Crown’s deal is, but it feels like something the narrative will eventually answer more clearly.

John 15:23

-Perhaps the numbers are the time on a military clock when the chapter takes place? But the chapters often skim over quite a bit of time…

-p98 - I’d been wondering about that! Gideon/John’s gold eyes are just barely possible in real life, if we’re assuming the descriptions are a bit of poetic license. But apparently the gold description is not an exaggeration - they’re outright supernatural.

-Oh my god. I was not expecting an outright Twilight reference in THESE books. Wow.

-p101 So John’s dead bodies were Ulysses and his cav. T-? Unlike Nigella, I can’t remember her name. It was also a literature reference I believe?

”Their old names” - Oho. Incontrovertible confirmation that characters’ names were different back in the old world, and John changed them to be what they were post-Resurrection!

Like, it often feels slightly dissonant to me whenever I read Modern AU fanfics and the character names are the exact same as in the books. Mercymorns and Augustines and Harrowharks all passing without comment. On the other hand, “translating” the book names into “modern English conventions” would probably come across even weirder - I imagine it would end up sounding like old, bad anime dubs, super awkward and shoehorned. And no two authors would ever use the same names, haha.

Still, while I wouldn’t ever use them in anything, they sure seem fun to speculate about. What were the OG Lyctor’s original names back in the modern world?

-Lots of details of John’s life in the old world! His Nan and his dog. 

Weird to think about how half of Gideon’s closest relatives have been dead for 10,000 years...

-Huhh. So early John can move bodies remotely. That sounds more like normal necromancy than his unique God powers.

Chapter 9

-p106 So Nona can swim? I assume CamPal taught her. (I’ve been meaning to look up whether Gideon knew how, I’m sure it must have come up but I can’t remember... so this might be a clue to Nona’s identity and I’m missing it.)

-106 Of course, BOE would destroy corpse bones and graveyards, can’t leave ammo for necros!

-108 Does Nona’s love of saltwater derive from the Pool Scene? Here, it reads as if that might be what’s going on. Though given the way saltwater tends to come up in a lot of significant places,  I suspect Nona is conflating the Pool Scene with something else (perhaps even her tomb as Alecto?).

-p110 So the Empire’s language is just called “House.” As in, “speak House.” Fair enough. It’s not like the word “English” has meaning anymore. Though given John’s origins, I assume it really is supposed to be modern English that everyone speaks - there’s no implicit translation convention going on.

-p111 Ooooh. So CamPal can be in the same body at the same time. And Lyctor heterochromia! Fanficers and fanartists must be happy~

-p112 Huhhh. Nona calls the CamPal hybrid a “new person.” A new person like herself? Maybe there is some of Gideon-and-Harrow in her after all…

-113 Hm. So when the CamPal hybrid uses necromancy, it results in blood sweat. Odd. Would have thought a Lyctor wouldn’t bleed anymore.

Oh? Or are they *not* Lyctors, and this was them going slightly down the Eightfold path?

Yeah, Pyrrha’s reaction makes me really think the latter.

Chapter 10

-It occurs to me that Nona’s vanity might be Gideon’s vanity without the baggage of Gideon and Harrow’s weird relationship influencing her opinions of Harrow’s appearance.

-p118 Heh, now that’s a thought! What would Gideon and Harrow think of Nona’s gang of kids? I agree with Cam’s read, I think. Gideon would love them. Harrow… hmm, maybe. 

More specifically, I imagine Harrow wouldn’t like them at all, but she’d still feel compelled to protect them to some degree due to her sense of guilt.

-p118 …space elevator… *continues scribbling notes on TLT tech*

-p120 Pal has worked on a Lyctor body before? Is he referring to Cyth?

-p121 And here we get a bit more worldbuilding on reproduction in the Nine Houses. Apparently the Sixth doesn’t even do pregnancy except for research! Can I move there, please? America sucks.

Meanwhile, from backstory details I think it’s implied that the Second (Judith was born interstellar, and why would anyone take a vat interstellar?) and Ninth (Harrow’s parents’ difficulties) still do births the old fashioned way. The Third is ambiguous - I guess there’s nothing preventing Ianthe from almost dying in a vat womb same as a normal one. The Fourth definitely uses vats (which we knew from Isaac). And there’s no data on the Fifth, Seventh, or Eighth that I know of. Though the level of genetic engineering present in Silas and Colum’s backstory makes me think the Eighth might use them too.

-p122 Oooh. Confirmation. CamPal aren’t a full Lyctor, not at all. They’ve just done part of the theorem. Enough to change their eye colors and share a body, but it seems little more.

-p122 Okay, yeah, so it was as I thought with the cages. They burn necros - or people they think are necros - alive. Yeesh, even the fanfics don’t go that hard, but it checks out quite well with what the materials at the end of HtN suggest about BOE’s hatred of necromancy.

Also - given the burning, and the way the mob probably doesn’t even have real necros, I imagine the similarities with suspected witches or heretics being burned at stake is quite intentional.

Like, “necromancy is witchcraft” has always been an undercurrent - Harrow is a bone witch, after all - but this is the most on the nose the connection has been to historical witchcraft, rather than fantasy mages and wizards and whatnot.

-Oooh, so Pal is so worried because he thinks the victims might be Sixth House people. Yikes, what a quandary.

Aw. And for Pal, it isn’t even about that, or about them being Sixth House at all. Three people being burnt to death is horrible regardless of who they are.

In a series full of terrible people, Cam and Pal are often acting as the moral compass, aren’t they?

-p123 Oh hey, Cam has a half-sister ten years older named Kiki! She can join Abigail’s brother in canon relations everyone always forgets about, heh.

-p125 Well, even if I was wrong about the Angel, I was right about Nona having a special connection to the RB! (And it is called “Varun.”)

-p125 “I don’t let go,” said Camilla. “It’s my one thing.” (yesss, we stan a determinator queen <3)

John 5:18

-p128 Oh good, other religions at least still existed in the old world. Interesting that Mercy was atheist but friends with a nun. Maybe Cristabel was the nun? And resurrected Mercy went on to found the Eighth… she’s a woman of many contradictions.

-p129 Two scientists (A- and M-?) an engineer (G-?) and a detective (P-) and a lawyer (C-) and an artist (N-). Or at least I think that’s the right name-to-job matching.

-p129 pffhahaha so they just streamed it? Wow.

Also lol the dig at the internet. Also confirmation that the Nine Houses don’t have it!

They do seem to have some electronic communication, given Judith’s signal for help. But I’ve always wondered about things like Cam, Pal, and Dulcie’s letters. Do they just enjoy writing letters? Or is there truly nothing comparable to personal computers and email?

Quick Thoughts

-It was at this point that following an afternoon of reading, I had to go eat dinner. As good a time as any to pause for some general thoughts!

-I’m surprised at how little we’re getting of everything else going on! Presumably Judith and Corona are off doing things, but we don’t even know what happened to them! -We also don’t have any of John and Ianthe’s side of things. Do I miss Ianthe? Maybe a little, ha.

-Opinion so far: As usual, Muir’s writing is a delight to read despite the incredibly bleak subject matter. My general thoughts on the series are unchanged - I haven’t found anything to dislike, but I also have yet to find anything that immediately grabs me the way the other books did. Nothing new that makes me want to jump up and recommend this series to everyone I know.

But it’s still very early in the story!

Day Three >>

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: The Anime (pt. 1)

I could go on and on about these two and I think I will, just because I don’t often see people talk about the analysis behind them. The meta I have seen about them has included a perspective that equaled the anime and the manga and I don’t think that’s an accurate way of viewing their relationship.

The anime is a different species than the manga, something that frequently happens during the adaptation from page to screen. Since they’re so different, I’ll analyze them separately.

There's going to be many parts to this so I'll keep a table of contents right here so people can more easily navigate (though you can also read through the "let's talk about natsumikan: the anime" tag on my blog):

Anime Analysis

Part 1: Exposition & Episode 7

Part 2: Episodes 8, 9, 10, & 11

Part 3: Episodes 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, & 17

Part 4: Episodes 18 & 19

Part 5: Episodes 20, 21, & 22

Part 6: Episodes 23, 24, 25, & 26 & Conclusion

The anime makes changes, as anime adaptations often do. The most outstanding changes are appearance related, as Natsume now has brown eyes instead of red, in addition to other characters who have hue-shifted eyes and hair. But there are also story changes, and I’ll be focusing on the changes that occur, specifically in regards to Natsume and Mikan and their relationship.

For one, their relationship starts evolving much earlier in the anime. I think it’s pretty undeniable that in the anime, Natsume started liking Mikan at the end of the dodgeball game. That scene never happened in the manga, but in the anime, it’s a crucial step in making sure nothing seems too sudden or forced.

The anime is 26 episodes long. If Natsume only starts liking Mikan after she saves him during the Reo Arc, then we’re already halfway through the show when positive feelings between the two appear. On the other hand, the feelings develop more slowly in the manga because there’s more time to properly develop the relationship in a more drawn out way.

My analysis will start with the anime, because it’s shorter and easier to discuss.

Exposition

It’s impossible to say that the anime was completely loyal to the manga. It very frequently couldn’t be, because it needed to fill in time in episodes or give closure early before the manga even addressed it (Natsume’s backstory in the anime, for instance, is vaguely referred to and implies deviation from the manga).

The most obvious difference between the manga and the anime from the get-go is visual. Not only do they have differing art styles (I don’t dislike the anime style but Higuchi Tachibana’s art style is so distinct and unmistakable while the anime’s isn’t so unique), but the setting is also different.

While the manga started in the depth of winter, the anime starts off in summer/fall. It always struck me as odd that while the first page of the manga has Mikan running after Hotaru in full winter-wear, the anime starts off warm and idyllic. You could almost think of that as a general warning for the difference between the anime and the manga. After all, while the anime has a reputation for being a cutesy and upbeat story about friendship and magical powers, the manga is much darker and discusses many morbid and depressing themes that can and WILL fuck you up. Warm vs. cold seems like an accurate difference, though I don’t think that was intentional.

We see way more of the village life in the anime, including Mikan’s efforts to keep the school from closing. This is a welcome change because Mikan’s passion to keep the school open is nothing compared to her friendship with Hotaru, and even after the school is saved, she runs away to see her friend, even if it means she goes to another school. The manga doesn’t imply that Mikan knew already about the school’s fate, and since she is always so preoccupied with Hotaru anyway, we don’t really get the impression that she cares very much. To Anime!Mikan, Hotaru is more important than saving the school, something she was so passionate about she rallied to get signatures. It’s an extra scene to prove just how much Hotaru matters to Mikan, and to show even more how selfless Hotaru was to go to Alice Academy, since she knew how much the school mattered to Mikan.

“Sign my petition to get a Gakuen Alice anime reboot!!!”

My boy Natsume is only introduced properly in the second episode, when we actually see his face and he speaks. His appearance is different from the manga’s too. I’m not sure if this was to appeal to a younger audience or what, but Natsume’s eyes are changed to brown instead of their iconic red, something that was always my biggest peeve about the anime adaptation. His hair is also somewhat purplish instead of entirely grey/black and, although this does bother me a lot less than the eyes, I wonder why they made this change when other characters have black hair. It might have been to differentiate him from Hotaru, another main character with black hair, though I’ve never had issue in the manga telling them apart.

His first interaction with Mikan is a lot more pleasant in the anime than in the manga, although that’s not really saying anything. Mikan’s skirt simply falls off and Natsume draws attention to it, rather than the unpleasant events that took place in the manga. This different event makes it a lot easier to support a relationship between the two of them right off the bat. They are still antagonistic but it’s not as terrible as it is in the manga. This makes it easier to establish romantic feelings earlier on, and might have been changed in order to achieve just that, or possibly also to appeal to a younger audience. Maybe both? Who knows.

“You can’t sit with us!”

With Natsume presented the way he is in the anime, it’s easier to make the claim that he’s simply a good guy who acts the way he does to protect people. And it’s true! He is! But he is also so much more. In the manga, he’s a more complicated character. Although he is a good person, he still requires character development, which is something he does go through, and something I’ll talk about more in his meta analysis later.

Most of the events at the beginning of the anime parallel the events of the manga. Mikan goes to Alice Academy at the same time of year, Natsume shows up with an explosion, Mikan has to go through the Northern Woods, she discovers her powers in her fight with Natsume, etc. Some of the continuation from episode to episode is different than the transitions between chapter to chapter, there’s extra scenes inserted to fill up time, and some of the exposition seems strangely presented (in the anime, Mikan finds out more about the school when she finds Narumi and Iinchou waiting for her at a tea party, which is…. Super weird…), but all in all the information and events are mainly the same. The big differences start with the dodgeball episode.

“Look how happy she is. Makes me wanna barf.”

Episode 7 vs. Chapter 9

I love the dodgeball episode. I feel like for the most part, the anime does deviation from the manga pretty well. With the last arc as an exception, I generally enjoy their changes and additions to the plot. The anime has to be different, has to progress at a different pace, has to introduce topics at different times. They have an episode to fill, and less time to build relationships. Natsume and Mikan are both different characters in the anime but it’s very subtle and has to happen due to the fact that the anime is shorter and seems more designed for younger audiences, in addition to wrapping up before the manga could explore more of the story.

Anyway, let’s talk about the dodgeball episode. AGAIN THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN IN THE MANGA THE SAME WAY so when discussing NatsuMikan as a concept, the anime events cannot be treated the same as the manga events. A lot of people maybe forget that the manga is very different than the anime when it comes to this episode. I see the two media conflated in plenty of fanfics, where seventeen year old NatsuMikan reflect on the dodgeball game from their youth that changed everything, and I get it because the anime version of the dodgeball game is cute! It's shippy! It's fun! But it doesn't happen in the manga the same way.

There's a similar trope with the sakura tree, which I can only remember from the anime, and yet it's such a fundamental aspect of NM fanfic it might as well have played a vital role in both anime and manga. Nothing wrong with any of this, of course. I'm just making it clear that my analysis will cover the two media as separate for the sake of a cohesive essay. Separating them in fanfic is far less important.

This look could probably kill someone. I’m surprised Mikan is still alive, TBH.

The chapter’s focus is Mikan starting to feel more at home in Class B, making friends with her once-hostile classmates, but the episode is more preoccupied with Natsume and Mikan’s perspectives on each other. While in the manga, the game ends with a tie and Mikan accidentally hits Hotaru in the face with the ball, the anime draws out the game to fill an episode and to introduce an evolution in the way Natsume sees Mikan. The first part of the anime episode is Mikan introducing her friends to her new senpai, Tsubasa. After she invites her friends, we see Natsume glowering at her and promptly ditching the next class, saying to Ruka that he can’t stand being in the same class as her. This addition to the plot already foreshadows that their relationship will change in some way by the end of the episode.

Tsubasa tells a frustrated Mikan that if she wants Natsume to be less unpleasant, he’d need to release some of his toxic energy. Thus, the sporty Mikan introduces the concept of dodgeball to the unwelcoming class. When they finally agree, Natsume gives one condition: that they play with the notorious Alice Ball, which is powered by the thrower’s alice (a detail absent from the manga). This Alice Ball is particularly terrifying with the threat of Natsume’s dangerous fire alice. Mikan also needs to get more people on her team, another aspect absent from the manga. While in the manga, Mikan only had her few friends on her team (including a wandering Ruka) and this ended up playing to her advantage, the anime has a humorous plot of Mikan tracking players down for her team, including a fake mustache she makes with her pigtails (she’s so cute, I love her), paying Hotaru to be on her team, and blackmailing Ruka to participate. This was mainly to fill time, but it makes the dodgeball game more important as well.

In the manga, we don’t see how the game ends, just that the teams tied and that everyone in class is having fun and bonding. In the anime, more emphasis is put on the “Mikan vs. Natsume” aspect, so a tie like the manga’s would be anticlimactic. Thus, the anime concludes the dodgeball game with Mikan and Natsume being the only kids left on the court, and Natsume not using his alice when he throws the Alice Ball. Even Hotaru leaving the game is something she does out of boredom instead of injury, further separating the other characters from the plot. It’s about Natsume and Mikan, and everyone else is mostly a side character. (Though Ruka also plays a vital role to this episode AND chapter, and it’s at this point that I think he started developing real feelings for Mikan as well. So when it comes to the anime, he and Natsume fall for Mikan around the same time, but in the manga, Ruka likes her first and the “he liked her first” argument for Natsume vanishes, though he never had that “advantage” to begin with.)

“Thank you!”

Natsume wins (something that shocked me at twelve years old) and is ready to walk away with his handy “tch” and all but Mikan thanks him for not using his alice and he goes off on her, demanding to know why she’s still smiling despite her loss. She says she’s happy that he had fun and was involved with the rest of class for once, and that in a way that means she wins. For Anime!Natsumikan, this is it. This is the turning point. “I just wanted you to be happy and have fun,” is what Mikan might as well be saying. “Really, this was all for you!” It’s sweet and it’s thoughtful and I don’t think Natsume ever imagined he’d be on the receiving end of her kindness, especially after all their beef. Manga!Mikan would probably not say these things to him, even if she meant them, for the sole reason that Mikan is stubborn and holds onto her pride, especially when it comes to her early relationship with Natsume, but Anime!Mikan is much more forgiving and much more willing to extend an olive branch, like in the dance episode. In any case, Natsume starts falling right then, and it’s obvious too, because he is pissed, and even more angry because he’s not even mad at her. He’s angry with himself for his change of opinion. This is the girl he was fully content to hate forever and yet here he was, starting to like her. Not ideal.

This scene, something so crucial to the development of Anime!Natsumikan, is completely absent from the manga. In the manga, Natsume still dislikes her by the end of the game although he does have fun.

He's not angry, just disappointed. In himself.

I’m not going to say one is better when it comes to starting up NatsuMikan because they’re very different creatures and I actually thoroughly enjoy both.

Anyway, the NatsuMikan after episode 7 is almost the same as in the manga, but the events carry a different weight since we know Natsume likes Mikan now (even if he would never admit it).

Summary

I hope this first part was interesting, and that it introduced the idea of Anime!NatsuMikan as being a little different from the manga's version. Yes, it is more or less the same story, but with so many thematic and plot changes, they take a different form as well, in a perhaps more subtle way, kind of like a slightly canon divergent fanfic. Fanfic where Natsume starts liking Mikan a bit earlier on in the story.

Next Part ->

[vialeza]

The Struggle of a Long-distance Marriage [a short story ] sasusaku fanfic

It was past midnight and Sakura was still up since she seems to had a lot of paperwork plus she had to check the records of her patients, this day had been a nightmare for her, since part of her time she was busy in the hospital, then she had to check on the new apprentices that enlisted to be a medic ninja and to add more she was several times summoned by the Hokage office, basically this whole day was one of those where they don't seem to have an end, and you could tell since she still hadn't finished with her work.

Suddenly the sound of a door being unlocked flood Sakura's ears, she knew who it was this about, it was him, he did this all the time, it was usually when he finished a mission and came back home, from what she could see, he probably passed for the Hokage office to turn in his report about his mission, just like Sasuke, Naruto was working hard too, from what Hinata told Sakura, Naruto spends most of the time on his office and he barely makes it home, Sakura was worried for Sasuke and Naruto, both have strived their best to keep the village safe yet they barely make time to spend with their family

"You're still up" Sasuke pronounced with his raspy voice making echoing all around in the silent house.

Sakura slowly glared at him and nodded at his statement; in the corner of her eye, she could see Sasuke silhouette leaving his black cloak over the chair right next to her at the dinner table.

Sakura was spacing out, this night she seemed to be more thoughtful than ever and the cause was because, since today's day she was busy going back and forth in the village, she couldn't help but hear people talking about her when she was around, and that wasn't a problem for her, if not the rumors about her and her relationship with her husband, back when she got with Sasuke many people didn't stop talking about them and their strange relationship, at the time she didn't really mind since they were only simple rumors that she tried to avoid but recently while she was working she would hear things like:

"Wow Sakura Uchiha hasn't aged at all, she still keeps being a beauty like she was in her youth"

"Did you know about Sakura's daughter, Sarada, being only a genin her accomplishments as a ninja are one of the most remarkable of the village"

"There are rumors about Sasuke might be betraying the village since he's always out"

"Did you know that Sasuke only married Sakura to restore his clan"

"Oh lord, really that must be terrible I feel so bad for Sakura"

"Rumors say that Sasuke and Sakura are divorced and that's why he only comes once in a while to visit her daughter"

"How can Sakura have a husband so absent of home for so long time, if I were her I couldn't stand for someone like that"

And rumors like that had spread all around Sakura's presence in events and even in her hospital, she couldn't help but be affected by them because the rumors were the same most of the time, and she somehow started to feel uncertain about the rumors.

And what if maybe they're true and I just have lie to myself all this time she questioned herself.

She rapidly shuddered to think that.

"Sasuke-kun " she pronounced with a lump on her throat.

"What is it?" he abruptly stops and turns around to Sakura.

She could see that he was probably very tired since seem to be walking to his room.

"You know what, never mind, go to sleep you must be tired" she smiled at him and shook her head at what she was going to ask him.

I must be really stupid to be affected by those lame rumors. she thought to herself trying to appease the lump on her heart that has been formed.

"What is it?" Sasuke repeated himself this time walking towards Sakura and leaning his hand on the table.

Sakura knew that Sasuke was staring at her looking for an answer from her.

"Oh don't worry, I'll tell you tomorrow" she glared back at him with a fake smile on her lips, trying to make Sasuke go away.

"Tomorrow I'll be leaving out for another mission, so say it now"

She suddenly lowered her head and stared at her feet, a sudden rage followed by a bit of sadness despaired her, she clenched her fists around her and furiously stood up.

"Why? why do you have to go?" she said crestfallen.

"You know exactly why" Sasuke bluntly retorted.

"It's not fair for me, I only get to have you for a couple of minutes, and then you're suddenly gone" she frowned at him.

He didn't say anything and was only staring at her jade green eyes.

"I know I'm sounding very lame and selfish, but believe me, I know it, but why can't I be selfish for once? why can't I have the opportunity to spend time with you and Sarada as a family? why can't you be with us for more time? it's killing me knowing that Sarada is missing a lot of memories of his dad and not only her but me too" she burst out raising her voice.

Sasuke only gave her a last glanced and started to walk out of the room without saying anything about the outburst that she just had.

"So then the rumors are true" Sakura's voice started to crack "You only are with me to restore your clan? "

In a span of seconds, Sasuke was already in front of her, staring face to face Sakura nervously gulped

"Do you really believe that?" Sasuke's husky yet velvety voice made Sakura's ears tingle at his closeness.

She didn't, she knows that her bonds to Sasuke were deeper than anything else, that even though he wasn't that expressive when it comes to affection, she knew that he loves her in his own way, but the uncertainty and insecurities have always been chasing Sakura since was little.

Sakura didn't reply to his question instead she only stayed silent and glared at her feet.

"Look at me, Sakura" he slowly pronounced close to her ear "don't make me repeat myself" he added.

Sakura slowly move her face towards him, and there he was, eyes darker than the night sky, a sharp nose followed by some plump lips, and an unexpressive face, that you couldn't tell if he was happy, sad, or mad, he was a whole enigma yet only his wife could sometimes read through him, even for Sakura, sometimes it was hard to tell what Sasuke was thinking.

"It's not about if I believe or not, it's what everyone else believes" she mouthed.

"I asked you if you believed it, not them, so...do you?"

"N-no " she stammered "But I can't help but get so insecure when you're not here, I feel lonely, I feel like I can't talk to someone before going to bed because you're not here, I'm sorry that I get carried away with people opinions, but being here without you for so long it pains me, the uncertainty of not knowing if you are going to come back home sound and alive is slowly torturing me... but I have to be strong for Sarada and you since you two are everything to me..." she added with tears streaming down her eyes.

Sasuke's expression soften and gently started to cupped her face in his hand, sakura shivered at his unexpected touch, but deep down she enjoyed being touch by him, since that was the only way that she could only feel like he was home, by feeling him in her skin.

"I'm sorry that I make you cry" he softly pronounce whilst wiping her tears away

Sakura in response only buried her face against his broad chest, allowing herself this moment to fully lean on him and feel his presence.

"You don't know how much I love you, Sasuke-kun" she muffled, and in response, Sasuke tilted his head and planted a kiss on her forehead.

Not too long from that touching moment Sakura's body faints in Sasuke's arms, he rapidly holds her tight and takes a moment to appreciate the delicate face of his wife, he smiled the scene of having Sakura fainted on his arms, she was probably so tired from too much work and to add more, all the burst of emotions that she had set free this night must have left her exhausted and overwhelmed.

Sasuke carefully poses her over his shoulder to carry her to their bedroom, gently he places her in the bed but before he could leave her side, Sakura's hand grabs his arm "please don't go" she pouted and pulled him towards her.

And there they were, the two of them laying on the bed in the darkroom, Sakura couldn't help but snuggle on him, the familiar cologne of Sasuke invaded Sakura's senses unconsciously making her sniff Sasuke's neck.

"Shannaro, I missed you so much," she said.

"I did too" Sasuke retorted while tenderly running his fingers through her hair.

By the time, both of them fell asleep together, after all, it was a long night and both of them have been exhausted by it, Sakura for a moment was happy to be in Sasuke's arms, and Sasuke was relieved to get to see his wife once in a while since he got to be away from home for long periods he misses the presence of his partner, couldn't see her when he wanted, couldn't talk her when he wanted, couldn't touch her when he wanted to it, missing all those things was torturing him, he was repressing himself from all of those things, only to protect the village and his family, which in the end it had paid off.

The next morning, Sasuke woke up very early to go off on his mission, but before that, he took a glance at the woman that was laying in his bed, his wife, he knew that he was going to miss her a lot, so before leaving the room, he leaned over Sakura's side to take a close look to her face and say:

"Until next time" he poked her forehead.

Before continuing with his way off the house, he stopped on the threshold of Sarada's room and quietly opened the door, by far he could see that his daughter was peacefully sleeping, he smiled at the cute image of her asleep and resume his going.

Hours later, Sakura woke up and realize that Sasuke wasn't there anymore, instead of being depressed about it, a slight smile form on her lips, even though she probably wouldn't see Sasuke for a long time, she could only pray for him to come back home safe and sound.

"Mamaaa!!! breakfast is ready! " Sarada shouted from the kitchen.

Oh, this girl woke up so energetic this morning she thought while giggling.

"Okay I'm coming"

With this, the Uchiha family started a new day, Sarada going on a mission with her team, Sakura going to the hospital, and Sasuke...well that's a new mystery.

**********************************************************************************

Story written by Via Leza

Twitter: leza_via

Tumblr: vialeza

06/02nd/2021 

i hope you like the fanfic, follow me for more

[uponrightful]

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

✨Fanfic Ask Game✨

(sorry this is long, but I know you won't mind too much)

Excerpt From: "Welcome Company" Part 2

The girl poured a fresh cup of caf, smiling at the buzzed, blonde sitting sleepily across the bar from her. Rex had made a surprise visit, more than a week ahead of schedule with more than enough stories to keep her busy and listening for a full weekend. It was one of her favorite things, to sit and sip caf while hearing about the -less gruesome- details of her trooper’s missions.

“-It was hell back there, but at least Anakin didn’t need reinforcements like last time.” Rex shook his head in slight frustration.

A this point she knew about all of the Generals, and almost knew all the clones by name. Of course many had come to see her, but putting names to faces wasn’t always easy. She found that putting names to tattoos and personalities was easiest.

As long as they show their personality.

“I’m glad you survived the Generals antics. Otherwise I wouldn’t get my updates so willingly.” She couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of asking Cody to talk about things so willingly. Of course Fives would be willing, but the quality of information was a whole other battle to fight.

“I’ll always come back, as long as you’ve got hot caf on drip.” Rex chuckled, taking a hearty drink from his mug. “I heard through the barracks that you played host to a new guest?”

She smiled almost absentmindedly, looking towards the rocking chair that had sat absent since Commander Wolffe’s overnight stay two weeks ago. “Yes, I did.”

“Angry bastard, isn’t he?” He commented with a light jeer, readjusting himself on the barstool he sat on.

I need to get bigger ones… they’re all too small for the boys.

“I don’t know what to think of him just yet.” She mused, tracing her finger around the lips of her mug, letting the steam coat her fingertips in a dewy sheen. “We didn’t particularly meet.” The look on Rex’s face changed with the drop of a hat, causing her to almost stutter in the attempt to rephrase herself. Whatever he’d heard, apparently didn’t meet up with her divulged information.

“I- I mean we didn’t speak.” She tried her best not to let her anxiety show, but that dreadful stutter had reared its ugly head. “I us-used signs to help him through the house.”

“You wrote out signs?” Rex parroted her with an incredulous expression, seemingly trying to piece together an image of what her nights must’ve looked like hiding from Wolffe and creeping down hallways without him catching sight of her. “Let me see them.”

She nodded timidly, still trying to gain back her confidence after realizing that Rex wasn’t actually mad. In one of the least-squeaky cabinets under the sink, she retrieved one of the black signs, and the chalk that she used to write the signs. Sliding them across the island, her gaze focused on Rex’s softening expression. Her remaining anxiety was slowly dissipating.

“You’re a special kind of patient, you know that?” Rex ran his finger over the white chalk, looking up at her under thick, dark eyelashes.

“He just seemed like the type who would want a different kind of love.” She shrugged her shoulders, feeling her face heat with embarrassment. It was easy to watch from behind the corners of her house, and enjoy to unguarded expressions of her warriors. But hearing any praise directly to her face was almost pure torture.

“All I’ve heard is when the Commander stepped back on base he looked like a brand new man. Even Cody was talking about how Wolffe’s armor looked better than the day he got it re-painted.” Rex paused to take another slug of his caf. “I haven’t seen the Commander… but I’m sure you gave him a kriffing good polish didn’t you?” He chuckled again, taking another hard look at the sign sitting in front of him. “I imagine the poor sap was standing up straighter than a rod with all the attention he got from you.”

“His were particularly rough… but nothing a little elbow grease couldn’t fix.” She retrieved the signs and put it back it it’s place under the sink. “I did use a little epoxy to fill In some particularly deep scratches.”

Rex gave her a wide smile and motioned for her to come over with an arm stretched out. She obliged, and placed herself within arm’s reach so he could pull her into a tight hug. He settled his chin on top of her head, giving a few quick squeezes just to explain all the things she knew Rex couldn’t say. For all the things the Captain could say, the girl knew that many of her boys were unable to speak though many of the things they felt. Instead, they liked touch.

At first, she’d been quite unwilling to oblige them. Feeling much too insignificant to be anyone that deserved any real attention from such important men. But after almost two years, hugs and the occasional request for head scratches or a haircut had become almost essential to her services. Even Rex hadn’t been keen on physical attention towards anyone but his brothers, however that changed after a few terrible nights spent way too late at 79’s. A particularly bloody battle left him beaten and bruised in more ways than one. And instead of coming straight to her, he’d found the door to 79’s and the bottom of a bottle of fire whiskey first. Two days of close attention and a true moment of vulnerability later, Rex became more than a regular. He practically cornered his own room at her house, where she was almost always on call for late-night or early-morning planet-side landings.

“You want him to come back don’t you?” Rex’s voice sounded muffled in her hair.

“I don’t want anything. You know that Rex.” He hugged her tighter with both arms this time, letting out a rough sigh.

“You’re more than deserving of whatever your little heart desires. Maker knows that… and if they don’t, well. I’d be more than happy to let them know.” They both chuckled, and split apart to take another drink of caf.

Only now that question still hung in the air. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the Commander to come back. But honestly, she couldn’t seem to distinguish what exactly she wanted to give him. Or whether or not Rex was talking about the Commander when he’d been oh-so willing to remind them of her own importance. Either option was enough to make her stomach knot. The girl always wanted to give, but had -according to Rex- a bad habit of never taking anything in return. But doing what she did for the troopers, allowed her the opportunity to do just that. The men hardly had anything to give, except a heartfelt thanks upon leaving. And she didn’t have to do anything but help. No transaction if the troopers didn’t desire it, and even then it was always guided by the understanding that they didn’t owe her anything.

“I want to be good.” She smiled, sounding like a broken record to Rex.

“I don’t know how I can make it any more obvious.” He sighed. “I’ve told you hundreds of times that you’re the Guardian Angel of me, and my vod.”

The girl felt another rise of heat in her face.

“Wolffe will come back. I’m sure of it.” Rex continued, “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll never want to leave this place.”

This right here is probably some of my favorite dialogue I've written. Honestly, I don't think I write it well but the feelings I got while writing this made the whole scene that much more special overall. I loved writing for Rex in the 'big brother' sense. Rex is such a sweetheart, and the entire conversation was so very easy to write. Organic conversation is challenging for me normally, and for whatever reason -I think it's these two characters really- that made everything jive really well. Like I said, It's really nothing groundbreaking. But I'm proud of little-ole-me for doing it anyways.☺️

Thank you for asking me doll, you never fail to make me smile. 🥰

Much Love, Rightful 🤍

[ishipallthings]

Cap-Ironman Rec Week 2020 (Thursday)

Tell-All Thursday, June 18th: Tell us about your highlights of 2012 or your favourite moments of canon, and share why you love Steve/Tony! for @cap-ironman​‘s Rec Week.

My favorite MCU Steve/Tony moments: If I went through all of my favorite moments, this list would probably be novel-length - here are a few to start with for MCU Steve/Tony, in chronological order.

1. Steve and Tony’s conversation about Coulson in The Avengers

This is the first time we get to see Steve and Tony open up to each other a little bit, and we get to see more of their give and take, how they make a good team in terms of strategy and discussion. I love it when they communicate - it’s an understated scene, but a great one.

2. Steve’s smile at the end of The Avengers

AKA the first moment I was lost to Steve/Tony, forevermore. Seriously, this smile changed my life. I saw this and my brain went HE’S IN LOVE (I was right.)

3. Steve’s smile at Tony’s antics in AOU

Can you tell I have a thing for Steve smiling at Tony? He looks so damn fond in this scene, I’ll never be over it. 

4. Steve and Tony (and Thor) discussing Mjolnir at the end of AOU

I get really emotional whenever I see gifsets of this scene around tumblr because it captured the banter-y “finish each other’s sentences” side of Steve/Tony that I love AND WE DESERVED A WHOLE MOVIE OF IT (hell, a whole MCU).

5. Steve and Tony’s conference room conversation in CA:CW

So many things get to me about this scene: Tony knowing Steve well enough to say “no, you don’t” about turning away from a problem, Steve’s agreement (and that smile, god), Tony saying he doesn’t want to see Steve gone right after saying that sometimes he wants to punch him in his perfect teeth... they all show a kind of intimacy that isn’t exactly easy, but it’s definitely there.

6. Tony reading Steve’s letter at the end of CA:CW

While I have my issues with the content of Steve’s letter at the end of CA:CW, the sight of the envelope with Tony’s name written on it in Steve’s handwriting just does something to me, I can’t help the feelings. (Tony reading the letter in Steve’s study at the Compound deserves extra bonus points for the angst.)

7. Tony struggling over calling Steve with the flip-phone at the start of IW

I love that when Bruce urges Tony to call Steve, his first reaction is to say “it’s not that easy.” And why isn’t it easy? Because there’s just so much between them, good, bad and downright ugly, all those feelings and history. And yet Tony carries the flip-phone on his person even while out jogging. 👀

8. Steve’s mention of “home” in IW

I will never be convinced that he isn’t thinking of Tony in this scene (especially since at this point he has no idea if Tony’s alive or gone). 

9. Steve running to help Tony off the spaceship in Endgame, the first time they’ve seen each other in two years

The first time I saw Endgame in theatres, I seriously thought this scene was straight of a fanfic-like dream: the running, Steve reaching out to steady Tony, their first conversation after two years apart... amazing.

10. Their conversation at the lakehouse (and the elbow touch!!) in Endgame

I’ve ranted about this so many times on Twitter but this scene never fails to get me - Steve reaching out and grasping Tony’s elbow, probably half-expecting Tony to flinch away from his touch but Tony doesn’t, and there’s a gentleness in their interactions with each other that was very much absent the last time we see them onscreen together (Tony yelling at Steve at the Compound).

11. “You trust me?” “I do.”

I know most people argued that Steve should have been the one to ask “do you trust me?” but I remain convinced that Tony was a perfect choice - the mere fact of him reaching out to ask after everything that’s happened between them shows that he does trust Steve again, and Steve’s steady and immediate “I do” gets me every single damn time.

12. Captain Stevens and Dr. Potts on their solo mission to get the stones in 1970.

Steve and Tony working together on a solo mission, sharing (1) braincell and completely failing at being subtle, I love it so, so much. (Plus it’s inspired so much amazing fic and fanart, I couldn’t not include them on the list).

Bonus moments:

Steve and Tony working together to fix the Engines in The Avengers

Tony reaching for Steve in his vision of doom in AOU

“You're gonna turn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us. NOW! Because it's us!”

“Earth just lost her best defender.”

Tony slamming his arc reactor into Steve’s hand during the screaming match

“Turns out, resentment is corrosive, and I hate it.” “Me too.” and the return of Steve’s shield

“Uh, Mr. Rogers. I almost forgot that that suit did nothing for your ass.” “No one asked you to look, Tony.”

... and so many more 💕

To sum up, MCU Steve/Tony are two sides of the same coin, and they always be my #1 otp of all time.

Check out my tag for previous years’ rec lists, and the recs from this week so far.

[writing-prompts-for-friends]

Notes from Stephen King’s “On Writing” 07: The Revision Process

Next, King walks us through his revision process. He makes it clear that this method is not the only method. It is merely a method. 

How Many Drafts?

“For me, the answer has always been two drafts and a polish (with the advent of word-processing technology, my polishes have become closer to a third draft).”

King admits that this number of drafts is not the golden rule. Kurt Vonnegut rewrote each page of his novels until he got them exactly the way he wanted them. This meant that when the manuscript was finished, the book was finished. (I certainly am not that big of a perfectionist, nor am I that patient lol.)

For beginner writers in particular, King offers the following advice:

“Let me urge that you take your story through at least two drafts; the one you do with the study door closed and the one you do with it open.

“This first draft--the All-Story Draft--should be written with no help (or interference) from anyone else. There may come a point when you want to show what you’re doing to a close friend because you’re proud of what you’re doing or because you’re doubtful about it. My best advice is to resist this impulse. Keep the pressure on; don’t lower it by exposing what you’ve written to the doubt, the praise, or even the well-meaning questions of someone from the Outside World. Let your hope of success (and your fear of failure) carry you on, difficult as that can be. There’ll be time to show off what you’ve done when you finish...but even after finishing I think you must be cautious and give yourself a chance to think while the story is still like a field of freshly fallen snow, absent of any tracks save your own.”

Basically, King just wants you to get it all out onto the paper, with no external forces influencing you (for better or for worse). Just get that first draft out, and then open it up for closer examination both to yourself and others.

Let It Breathe and Then Dig In!

Okay, so you finished writing the first draft! Celebrate! Rejoice! Maybe cry!

...And then throw that manuscript into a drawer, lock it up tight, and don’t look at it for a minimum of six weeks. And in the meantime, do something totally unrelated to what you wrote. Get into knitting. Write a short story that is nothing like what you just finished. It’s consumed you for months now--so give your mind and imagination some time to reset and chill. 

King recommends a minimum of six weeks, but even longer is okay. Resist all temptation to peek at it. And once the six weeks have passed, do the following:

“Take your manuscript out of the drawer. If it looks like an alien relic bought at a junk-shop or a yard sale where you can hardly remember stopping, you’re ready. Sit down with your door shut, a pencil in your hand, and a legal pad by your side. Then read your manuscript over.

“Do it all in one sitting, if possible. Make all the notes you want, but concentrate on the mundane housekeeping jobs, like fixing misspellings and picking up inconsistencies. There’ll be plenty; only God gets it right the first time and only a slob says, ‘oh well, let it go, that’s what copyeditors are for.’

“If you’ve never done it before, you’ll find reading your book over after a six-week layover to be a strange, often exhilarating experience. It’s yours, you’ll recognize it as yours, even be able to remember what tune was on the stereo when you wrote certain lines, and yet it will also be like reading the work of someone else, a soul-twin, perhaps. This is the way it should be, the reason you waited. It’s always easier to kill someone else’s darlings than it is to kill your own.”

You’ll also be on the lookout for any glaring holes in the plot or character development. And if you spot any of these big holes, you are forbidden from feeling depressed about them. Don’t be hard on yourself. Everybody makes mistakes, and they can all be fixed. 

Generally King goes through the first reading fixing all the superficial issues, like typos and unclear antecedents. But as he’s doing that, he’s also asking himself the Big Questions:

Is this story coherent? 

If it is, what will turn coherence into a song?

What are the recurring elements?

Do they entwine and make a theme?

What’s it all about?

“Most of all, I’m looking for what I meant, because in the second draft I’ll want to add scenes and incidents that reinforce that meaning. I’ll also want to delete stuff that goes in other directions. There’s apt to be a lot of that stuff, especially near the beginning of a story, when I have a tendency to flail.”

I can understand what King is saying here about the flailing at the beginning. Because I do not plot when I write, I have ideas that crop up halfway through that would require being introduced earlier, for example. Or perhaps as my understanding of the characters evolved as I wrote more, I realize that they behaved out-of-character earlier on. This is certainly one downside to not plotting. But isn’t is also kinda liberating to be able to take detours and wind up at a different but equally interesting destination?

Okay. So go ahead and fix all of the issues you found, and your first revision is complete.

Second Opinions and the Second Revision

“Do all opinions weigh the same? Not for me.”

Now you’re done with the first draft. You’ve patched over any plot holes and smoothed out those typos and grammar mistakes. You’ve polished the symbols and themes until they shine.

Once this is done, King gives a copy of work to his wife and several close friends (4-8) to receive detailed feedback. In other words, he has several close friends beta for him. 

“Many writing texts caution against asking friends to read your stuff, suggesting you’re not apt to get a very unbiased opinion from folks who’ve eaten dinner at your house and sent their kids over to play with your kids in your backyard. 

“The idea has some validity, but I don’t think an unbiased opinion is exactly what I’m looking for. And I believe that most people smart enough to read a novel are also tactful enough to find a gentler mode of expression than ‘This sucks.’ Besides, if you really did write a stinker, wouldn’t you rather hear the news from a friend while the entire edition consists of a half-dozen Xerox copies?”

What he gets back is 4-8 very detailed and different analyses of what he wrote. What’s very important to remember is that every reader looks at a work through a different lens. If half of them say a character’s portrayal is far-fetched but the other half say the opposite, than their feedback regarding that point has balanced out. However, if the majority of them say that something doesn’t work, then King goes back and sees if he can improve it. 

Also, different readers pick up on different details. This is the age of internet and now we are able to check facts whenever we like, but it is still nice to have something of a subject matter expert on hand, because they are liable to pick up on details that the writer may not. 

For example, I often beta fanfiction for anime. I am fluent in Japanese, live in Japan, and have studied Japanese culture and history. While I would never claim to be a “subject matter expert” on Japan, I am able to make certain corrections regarding, say, the type of kimono a character should be wearing, that the writer would not have considered. 

It’s very easy to accept feedback that deals with facts (i.e. a beta corrects you on the standard procedures for CPR). However, it’s much harder to handle subjective feedback (i.e. “The ending felt inconclusive.”). Having put as much work as you have into creating this, it can feel like a personal attack because this story is a very dear part of you. What do you do if your beta tells you something like this?

“Subjective evaluations are, as I say, a little harder to deal with, but listen: if everyone who reads your book says you have a problem, you’ve got a problem and you better do something about it.

“Plenty of writers resist this idea. They feel that revising a story according to the likes and dislikes of an audience is somehow akin to prostitution. ... But come on, we’re talking about half a dozen people you know and respect. If you ask the right ones, they can tell you a lot.

“Do all opinions weigh the same? Not for me. In the end I listen most closely to [my wife], because she’s the one I write for, the one i want to wow. If you’re writing primarily for one person besides yourself, I advise you pay very close attention to that person’s opinion. And if what you hear makes sense, then make the changes. You can’t let the whole world into your story, but you can let in the ones that matter the most. And you should.”

I think, especially in the age of prolific fanfiction in which the author usually updates as they write the story, the author feels a lot of pressure from their readers. Readers chomping at the bit for the main characters to have a naughty scene, or demanding to know about that one secret thing that you keep alluding to. A lot of fanfic writers struggle to tow the line of “writing a good story based on reader feedback” and “pandering.” 

My advice to fanfic writers out there is to tell those thirsty readers to read a one-shot if they’re looking for a quick fix of smut, and to have some goddamn patience. You’re trying to tell a story, one that builds and progresses, and that takes time. Don’t give in to those “OMG MAKE THEM KISS ALREADY” reviews. But if a lot of readers say something like, “I feel like this character wouldn’t do that,” then perhaps you should re-evaluate that. 

On Pace and Reducing Glut

“Formula: 2nd Draft = 1st Draft - 10%.”

So now you have your first draft done. You have your feedback from your trusted betas. And now you need to go and make the final changes. 

King states that you should rely on your most trusted betas to gauge whether or not your story is paced correctly and if you’ve handled the back story in satisfactory fashion. “Pace” is the speed at which your narrative unfolds. 

”There is a kind of unspoken (hence undefended and unexamined) belief in publishing circles that the most commercially successful stories are novels are fast-paced. I guess the underlying thought is that people have so many things to do today, and are so easily distracted from the printed word, that you’ll lose them unless you become a kind of short-order cook, serving up sizzling burgers, fries, and eggs over easy just as fast as you can. 

“But you can overdo the speed thing. Move too fast and you risk leaving the reader behind, either by confusing or by wearing him/her out. ... I believe each story should be allowed to unfold at its own pace, and that pace is not always double time. Nevertheless, you need to beware--if you slow the pace down too much, even the most patient reader is apt to grow restive.”

So how can you strike a happy medium? Rely on your most trusted betas and their input. King says, “Every story and novel is collapsible to some degree. If you can’t get out ten percent of it while retaining the basic story and flavor, you’re not trying very hard. The effect of judicious cutting is immediate and often amazing. You’ll feel it and your betas will too.”

On backstory, King issues some opinions and advice:

It’s important to get the backstory in as quickly as possible, but it’s also important to do it with some grace.

A reader is more interested in what’s going to happen instead of what already did.

Even when you tell your story in a straightforward manner, you’ll discover you can’t escape at least some backstory. 

“The most important things to remember about backstory are that (a) everyone has a history and (b) most of it isn’t very interesting. Stick to the parts that are, and don’t get carried away with the rest.”

Source: King, Stephen. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. Hodder, 2012.

[deathlikesdeep-dish]

Heat (Zoro x Reader)

Hiiii!

I’m new on the One Piece fanfic scene but I had a ton of fun writing this first little story for the One Piece of Summer Writing Challenge! (also please forgive me if there’s multiple submissions i’m returning to tumblr after like an 8 year hiatus lol) (also also i’m sorry i’m verbose i hope this isn’t too long)

Warnings: some language

Word Count: 3628

Word Prompt: Heat

You can hardly believe that it’d been two whole years since the crew had been together. Two years. Holy shit. You feel a lump in your throat as you approach Shakky’s place. You have no idea who, if anyone, had already arrived. Your heart races excitedly at the thought and a small smile creeps over your features. You make yourself sit on a nearby bench and breathe before you hike the last flight of stairs to the bar. It’s a hot day, impossibly hot and you sit and take a sip of water from your hip flask. The cool liquid pours down your throat and you sigh happily as you wonder what the very near future would hold.

Would it be Franky? You imagine the blue-haired madman, and laugh. Maybe he’d found another way to fuel his cyborg frame other than cola. You laugh again.

Who am I kidding? You think to yourself. The reason he runs on cola is because he wants to run on cola.

Or maybe it would be Usopp or Chopper? The last time you saw Chopper, it had been so frightening. He was vast and out of control from using those rumble balls. A shudder runs up your spine at the thought, but you push the thought away shaking your head. Your h/c hair ruffles at the motion, and you push a strand out of your face as you stare at the ground beneath your boots. Usopp, you are sure, will be one of the early ones, not wanting to be one-upped. You roll your eyes, your mind’s ear imagining him shouting, “Well, of course I’m here first! I’m the great captain Usopp!”

You already know what Brook--you mean “Soul King” had been up to. You laugh. You had to admit that his stuff was pretty catchy, and you wonder if he’d even want to come back to the pirate life after all that fame and fortune. It had been nice over the last two years to follow him in the papers whenever you could; a small link to your old life had been comforting and familiar.

Nami and Robin were almost certainly already here--Nami, probably off conning some shop owner into giving their store away half-price, and Robin wandering around looking at architecture, reading a book, or saying weirdly cryptic lines to passersby. You sigh fondly, reminiscing about the times the three ladies of the Strawhats spent together. Not having had many female friends to speak of before the Strawhats, it had been nice to have some badass women to bond with over the months before your separation. In your two years alone, you’d missed the companionship.

Maybe Sanji is at Shakky’s already, cooking up some delicious concoction for you to devour. Your stomach grumbles on cue, and your mouth waters thinking about it. If Luffy was already here, then any food would be gone twice over. Of all the changes that are sure to have occurred, your captain’s appetite is the least likely to change. You can only imagine what power he has achieved in the last two years. Your stomach sinks a bit thinking about when you learned of Ace’s death in the Paramount War. The pain Luffy must have endured. Alone. But, he was not one to dwell, and wouldn’t want you to either.

So you don’t. You’re strong--much stronger than you were the last time the crew saw you. You’re not the same girl that you were two years ago. No, not even close. You’re taller, with broader shoulders and hips. While you were once slender due to malnutrition, you are now toned and muscled after two years of hard training. You felt vitality that you once never thought you’d feel coursing through your muscles. Your top, frayed at the hem, falls to just above your naval and drapes over one shoulder, leaving the other uncovered. Your s/c flesh is exposed to the waistband of your khaki shorts. The leather of your boots is soft and worn, the same pair you’d been wearing when you were launched away from your crew by Kuma. The holster dangling from your waist carried some of your throwing knives, which you twiddle absently at your side in nervousness. You had become adept at hand to hand combat since the crew saw you last. You are nimble, fast and lethal. You smirk and let the confidence roll over your body. You can’t wait to see how skilled everyone else had become.

You flex and stretch, standing up from the bench and begin your ascent up the stairs. They groan under your weight and you shift the bag on your shoulder, securing it more tightly against your body. You feel your heart beginning to race again at the thought of the final crew member. You can only imagine how strong he’d become.

Zoro.

You think of his green hair, and his white shirt, the top buttons always haphazardly undone. His slim black pants and boots, the sound of his earrings jangling in the sea breeze. You see his tight, intense gaze and that smirk that always weakened your knees. The knot in your stomach tangles more at the thought as you crest the top of the stairs. You recall the days that you sat in the Crow’s Nest together as he worked out. He never paid you much attention, but simply tolerating your presence in his sacred space made you feel important.

You feel the heat rise to your face and you can’t tell if it’s because of the sweltering sun of the Archipelago or the indecent thoughts that have begun to flood your mind. You take a deep breath as you nearly reach the doorway of Shakky’s place, when you stop in your tracks at the silhouette in the doorway. The sun is bright, so you can’t make out who it is right away, but as the figure takes a step, there’s no mistaking that green head of hair.

“Well,” You hear Shakky’s voice from inside the bar.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d be the first,” You hear Rayleigh’s voice chime in.

The greenette stays silent for a moment and then replies, “Oh yeah? Nobody else has shown up.” He pauses. “Well damn, guess they got lost.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice. It’s unmistakable.

Before you can stop yourself, you call out to him. “Zoro!” You immediately flush, but you know this time it’s not from the heat.

You see Zoro stiffen at your voice, but he quickly turns around and meets your gaze with his own.

Christ…

You immediately notice that your eyes only meet one of his, a scar running from forehead to cheekbone on the left side of his face, his eye tightly shut. It makes him look even more ruggedly attractive, if at all possible, and you allow yourself to stare for a moment.  His jaw, still angular and chiseled, is formed into a lazy half-smirk. Your e/c eyes trail down from his jaw to his throat and his collarbone, a body part you became intimately familiar with when you’d spent long moments staring at it over the top of his unbuttoned shirt, wondering what it would be like to nuzzle your face into its contours.

A part you are not used to seeing so casually, was the rest of his broad chest, which is exposed under the deep green coat he was wearing, the trademark Mihawk scar that ran from shoulder to hip still proudly displayed. You are glad to see that his haramaki remained unchanged over the last two years along with the three swords he carries at his side. He shifts his weight to his left side and leans his forearm on the hilt of his swords.

“Y/n!” He replies with a broad grin of recognition. He jogs toward you, and you find yourself moving towards him too.

Zoro is stunned to see you. In all honesty, he is stunned to know that he’s the first to arrive in the first place. Although, he did leave several weeks prior. Just in case.

You are...so different. His eyes move across your body, and he coughs, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks. He grits his teeth frustratedly.

Shit...get it together. He thinks to himself.

“I can’t believe we’re the first ones here!” You say, before pausing. “Actually...how the hell are you the first one here??”

You laugh and he manages to chuckle too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He jokes.

“Shakky and Raleigh inside?” You ask, jabbing your thumb towards the open door to the bar.

Zoro nods, rubbing a calloused hand at the nape of his neck. “Yep, they’re in there. Waiting like the old gossips they are.” He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

You can’t help but watch his arm move behind his head. His worn bandana is tied around his bicep over the top of his coat, and you can’t help but imagine how his tanned skin stretches over the muscle there. You realize, too late, that you had been silent for a beat too long.

“Y/n? You good?” He asks, raising a brow.

Your attention snaps back like a rubber band and you laugh nervously. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry. Just can’t believe how long it’s been.” You say lamely.

You walk into the bar, Zoro trailing behind you and you greet Shakky and Rayleigh with a wide grin. Shakky compliments your new look, making you spin around as if to show off your outfit. You can’t help but feel confident and a surge of pride wells within you. She pours you a drink, having already poured one for Zoro, and invites you to sit down at a far booth. You sit next to Rayleigh, playfully bumping him and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. He gives you an affectionate squeeze as he tells you how pleased he is to see you guys again. Zoro takes a seat at the far corner of a booth. He props his feet up and takes a long drag of sake straight from the bottle. He’d already finished the drink that was poured, naturally, and stopped Shakky before she could pour him another. He asked for the bottle, shrugging and said that we should just “cut out the middleman.”

You regale the three others in your tales of the last two years. You speak about your Master, your training, the island you’d resided on, everything. Shakky gives updates too, about some of the rumors that had been floating around in the Strawhats’ absence, particularly about Luffy and Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. Shakky, never one to be subtle, asks Zoro pointblank about what he’d been up to.

“Eh, not too much excitement,” He says vaguely. “The usual. Swords, drinking, naps.” Shakky rolls her eyes, unsatisfied, but you just laugh, knowing that he was not one to talk too much about himself.

After a long while, the four of you notice that the sun has begun to set. You are beginning to feel the drinks you’d consumed, your laughter a bit louder, your tongue a bit looser, your hair a bit wilder. The bar is illuminated in deep orange and red hues and you glance over at Zoro. Half of his face is cast in shadow, while the other half colored the same tint as the room. It looks almost as if he is on fire and you are mesmerized by him. He’s staring at you intently. You see beads of sweat along his hairline, and you notice that he has removed his outer coat.

“Damn Shakky,” He breathes, not breaking eye contact with you. “I don’t remember it being this hot two years ago.”

Shakky laughs. “Well, we’re going through a bit of a heatwave right now. It’s unusual for this time of year, but occasionally the weather currents bring a front in. It’s supposed to be like this for the next few days.”

His knees are propped up and he rests his forearms on top of them as he breaks your gaze and looks out the window. HIs profile is immaculate, and your eyes trace each feature--his straight nose, his angled jaw, and his full lips. Your lips subconsciously part, and it isn’t until you feel your tongue on them that you notice how you’re staring. Shakky, however, has noticed how the two of you have been trading stares at each other the entire evening. She smirks and stands with a yawn.

“Well Rayleigh,” She starts. “It seems likes it’s about time to close up shop for the evening. You good?”

Rayleigh looks confused at first, however, when Shakky gestures quickly to you and Roronoa, Rayleigh nods knowingly. He looks down at his nearly full drink and smiles. He tips his head back and swigs down the rest, placing the empty glass resolutely on the hard wood. “You know what, Shakky? You’re absolutely right. These old bones can’t drink like they used to. I’m headed down to my place at the docks. It’s cooler there anyway.” He stands up and bids the room farewell. The doorbell jingles behind him as he exits the bar.

You get the feeling that they’d been watching you and Zoro, and you feel embarrassed. But you don’t want to complain. You just hope that Zoro wouldn’t be ready to turn in yet either.

Shakky approaches Zoro and gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Night, Roronoa. If you get lonely, my room is always open.” She winks at him, entertained by how he squirms at the unexpected contact.

“Uh, yeah, sure…” He mutters, flustered. Shakky laughs.

“Shit Roronoa, just relax. I’m only kidding.” She walks over to a door behind the bar, presumably that led to her sleeping quarters, and opens it. “Or am I?” She grins slyly.

This time, Zoro knows better. The greenette shakes his head with a chuckle. “Goodnight, Shakky.”

She, too, disappears. The door closes behind her with a soft click, and the two of you are left alone. The sun has finally set beneath the mangroves and the sound of crickets fills the room. Despite the sun having set, the room is humid and very warm.

You reach a slender hand up and wipe beads of condensation off the back of your neck with a nervous sigh. “You’re right, Zoro,” You say after a moment. “It is absolutely stifling in here.”

He hums in agreement and holds up the bottle of sake questioningly. You nod and he tosses the closed bottle to you. However, his toss is a little short and to the left. But you’re fast and you catch it without a problem, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Aim much?” You joke as you pour yourself another drink before tossing it back to him.

He catches it easily and smirks. “Well, just checking to see if all that training you were going on about actually paid off.” He takes a swig. “Seems like it did.”

You were unbelievable. Zoro marvels at your agility. He had been enthralled as you told your story of the last two years. He watched the way your eyes lit up in excitement at certain parts or when your tone shifted to something more sinister. This was the y/n he’d always known--vibrant, curious and powerful. Zoro has always admired your tenacity. It was something of himself that he saw in you. He admired your intelligence as well, and your quick wit. It had always been a little intimidating, but now you were a force. It overwhelmed the swordsman. And thrilled him in the same way a new enemy excited him, got his adrenaline pumping and his heart racing.

He watches as you take a sip of your drink. His gaze follows the long line of your neck down to your collarbone, which he finds himself lingering on for longer than what was appropriate between nakama. You had always been objectively attractive, but Zoro never really paid attention to things like that. But now, you made that impossible to ignore. He is very attracted to you, entranced by your confident aura that pours off of you like cool sake.

The alcohol warms your blood and before you know what you’re doing, you prop your elbow on the table and say, “Seems like your training paid off too. I mean, look at you. All extra-muscley and shit.”

Zoro’s eyes widen slightly before he laughs out loud. “Thank you? I think.”

The liquid courage you’ve consumed does little for your filter (or your shame) so you continue. “I remember when I used to hang out in the Crow’s nest while you worked out. You were strong then, obviously. But it’s different now. You seem...invincible.” You breathe.

Zoro takes a moment to consider. “Invincible, huh?” He chuckles. “Hardly.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but don’t reply.

Zoro stands up, his coat remaining in his seat. Your eyes follow the contour of his chest and he notices you watching him. He loves knowing that you look at him the same way that he looks at you.

“Come on,” He says after a moment, holding out his free hand, the other still holding the bottle of sake.

You take it without thinking. “Where are we going?�� His hand is rough and cool to the touch, despite the heat in the room. He’s never held your hand before now. His good eye lands on you with a smirk that turns the knot low in your stomach.

“Up,” He replies in a whisper.

You nod wordlessly and stand up, trailing behind him as he walks towards the back door of the bar. When you exit, you sigh happily when a cool breeze flows along your damp skin. He echoes the sentiment with a contented hum, and continues towards the side of the building where he finds a ladder.

“Ladies first,” He grins, gesturing for you to climb the ladder up to the roof of the bar.

You raise an eyebrow, but comply nonetheless. As you climb, you make sure to move your hips more exaggeratedly, knowing the view you were providing him.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, of course, and admires your ass as you climb the ladder. You really are something. He wants to do more than just hold your hand. He wants to trail his hands along your curves, feel your strong body against the planes of his chest. He wants to know what your lips taste like, what your h/c hair feels like entangled in his fingers. But he knows that he needs to take it slow for both of your sake. It’s been two years. A lot has changed, and you are still his nakama first and foremost. There’s nothing that he would sacrifice to keep that.

The ladder is taller than you think it is by looking at it and when you arrive at the top of the bar, you are surprised to find an expansive platform.

“Wow,” You look open-mouthed. “How’d you know this was up here?” You look to Zoro who hops up onto the platform.

He shrugs. “I didn’t. I just saw the ladder earlier and figured it would be worth exploring.”

He walks up behind you in all of his shirtless beauty and sits, his legs apart as he leans back on his forearms. You’re still standing, looking up at the vast mangroves all around you, the stars peeking through the tree-tops. He lets you admire the scenery because it gives him a few moments to admire you. He clears his throat to get your attention and pulls you down to him.

With a light gasp, you find yourself sitting between his legs, your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around you. You are blushing furiously now. He hums contentedly, moving to nuzzle your hair and inhale your clean scent.

“What are you doing?” You manage to croak out.

“Enjoying the company,” He murmurs into the side of your neck.

You feel his heart beating swiftly against your back as you lean into him with a deep sigh. Your brain wants to overcomplicate this.

What does this mean? What does he want? Does he feel the same way about me that I feel about him? Does he...you gulp. Does he...want me, the way that I want him?

He feels you stiffen. “Y/n, hey,” He says. “It’s okay. This doesn’t have to mean anything that we don’t want it to mean.”

It seems like mind-reading is on the roster of new super powers he’s acquired. You grumble internally.

He laughs, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before he moves away. You whimper softly at the loss of contact, and turn to face him with a confused look. Though he did shift backwards, he didn’t move all that far away from you, so you’re surprised that you’re nearly face to face when you turn around.

He gently touches his thumb to your parted lips. “We’ve got time, y/n. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. So let’s just take the time and figure it out.” He smiles.

You feel your heart swell in your chest as you meet his intense stare. “Y-yeah, o-okay.” You stutter, still not quite believing that Roronoa Zoro has anything he wants to figure out with you. Your reverie is interrupted by Zoro’s gentle kiss. It’s a kiss that foreshadows what else could come of it, one that’s slow and burning and brimming with possibilities. He pulls away with a shudder.

“We’ve got time.” He says again, seeming to convince himself with the second iteration. “Besides,” He pulls back fully this time, taking in your lovely face before he smirks. “It’s too damn hot to be this close right now anyway.”

[nemobookaholic]

FrostIron Part 1

So I volunteered to write a FrostIron fanfic for @belligerentmistletoe , please let me know what you think. I’m always open to honest critique.

I hope it is going to be as much fun to read as I had writing it. Please excuse any typos or weird phrases, I’m not a native speaker.

Had to split it, cause I’m unable to write less than 6k it seems 🙈 I have to remind everyone, that I don’t own any rights to the characters. You read that on your own responsibility. Its a ship, so I don’t have to tell you what can and probably will happen. No violence to it tough. Enough talki-talki, enjoy.

LokixTony

We are at an alternative Timeline, in which Loki joined the Avengers, after he came to earth together with Thor. Thanos never interfered, so we find Loki wandering the Avengers Tower.

All the halls looked the same to him. He lost orientation some time ago, yet he would never admit that. Not to the people who crossed his path, with their ghastly looks and the mistrust they didn’t bother to hide. And when Romanoff and Barton turned the corner, he slipped into the next door hastily.

Loki found himself in a big room with large windows and a bar in it. The light was dimmed and in front of the counter he noticed a figure leaning onto it. Loki stepped closer to see who that was, it turned out to be Stark. And because the god had no other plans he decided to join him.

“I’m still waiting for that drink,” Loki said, sitting down on a barstool next to Stark.

The mechanic was staring at an empty glass, playing with it, as if he would think about what decision to make.

“Your bad, I stopped drinking a long time ago,” Tony answered after a while, as if he would just realise the presence of the god.

“Then why do you look like you would yearn for one?”

“That’s none of your business,” Tony said, turning away gazing out the window.

“Hard day, hmmm? May I help myself to a drink?” Loki asked politely and Tony nodded absent minded. The god made his way round the counter to get himself a glass, which he filled with whiskey. He sat back to his former place and sipped from his drink now and then. The two men sat in silence for some time.

“You know that nearly the whole crew was against having you in the team?” Tony interrupted the quietness.

“I didn’t expect anything else,” Loki shrugged his shoulders, “what is your opinion on the matter?”

“Hmmm,” Tony started playing with the glass again, “to be honest, I’m not happy either. But as I have experienced it myself, I know that people have the capacity to change.” He scratched his head, “I think you deserve a second chance. Anyway, that doesn’t mean I would trust you,” he admitted.

“Fair enough,” the god emptied his glass. “So what made you hide in here? Did Rogers ask for a private conversation?” Loki chuckled.

Tony groaned, “it’s my fathers birthday.”

“And you have no ambitions to get to see him?”

“He’s dead. Steve’s friend ensured that and like you, he’s part of the team now.” Tony dropped his head into both his hands, “seems like everyone deserves forgiveness, even mass murderers. No offence.”

“I’m sorry for your loss Anthony,” said Loki. If Tony would have looked up, he would have seen that the god wasn’t.

“No need to be sorry. Howard was an asshole,” Tony slammed his fist onto the table.

“Then why do you even bother?” Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Would you not, if someone killed your parents?” Tony mumbled the words to his glass.

“I would give everything to get my mother back and to bring revenge for her death. For the Allfather? I would send a letter of appreciation,” Loki smirked. “Unfortunately I have to send it to myself.” The god wasn’t in full control of his facial expressions and for once more they proved him a liar. Tony gave no reaction to it, so Loki felt encouraged to go on. “He was a miserable father most of the time. You know, kidnappet me from my realm. Promised me a throne that he never intended to give to me,” the longer he talked, the more agitated he got. “I never understood why he took me away from my home in the first place. To make me feel like a freak, once I discovered my true nature?” Slowly the illusion slipped away. His skin turned blue, the eyes red. When he realised he had unmasked himself, he turned back to his human appearance in an instance.

“In the end he was just an old man full of regrets,” Loki ended his monologue.

Tony let out a loud snore.

“Anthony?”, Loki asked in surprise.

“He’s asleep Sir,” a bodiless female voice informed him.

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious,” Loki rolled his eyes, “well, I’m sorry my story seemed to bore him that much.” The god jut his chin forward.

“If that’s a comfort Sir, he was tired the whole day. The fight with Miss Potts made it even worse,” Friday explained.

Loki slid down the barstool and stepped towards Tony.

“Can you explain to me how to find his bedroom?” he asked.

Friday gave him directions, while Loki lifted Tony into his arms. He just hoped that nobody would see him. Not because he would be ashamed of carrying another man, but because of the general distrust that was brought to his person.

The AI woman followed him, to assure that her boss would make it back to his room safely. Not even a humanoid person trusted him, if that wasn’t good news!

Carefully the god placed the fragile human into the sheets. Loki kneeled down to untie Tony’s shoes and placed them on the ground.

He even ensured to pull the blanket over the mechanic's body.

Loki hesitated a second, somehow he liked Stark. With a soft touch to his fingertips he brushed some stray hair out of the other man's face.

Loki turned away and made his way back to the bar. He felt the urgent need for a bottle of wine, or better two.

***

Tony opened his eyes, because the sun was beaming directly into his face.

How did he even get to bed? He couldn’t remember.

“Friday, please tell me I didn’t do anything stupid yesterday night?” he asked into the void.

“No sir. But I’m afraid your company has,” she answered.

“My comp—oh fuck! I was with Loki, wasn’t I?” he didn’t bother to wait for an answer, “where is he now?”

“Shop floor,” was the hesitant answer.

“You let him in?!” Tony flared.

“Mr. Laufeyson has been very charming,” came the snippy answer.

“How could he charm you, you’re not even a real person,” Tony grumbled.

“But he treated me like one.”

“Remind me to look over your coding,” he said.

“Yes Sir.”

Tony made his way through the maze of floors on the Avengers Tower until he reached his sanctuary. When he stepped inside his feet shoved a bottle on the ground. It slid away, crashing into more empty glass.

“What the fuck?” he raised his arms in disbelief.

The scene was like a bad comic. Loki lay in the middle of the room, surrounded by wine bottles. The gods head popped up when he heard Tony enter.

“Aaaanthony,” he beamed at the new arrival.

“Are you drunk? I didn’t think it was possible, according to how much Thor can drink,” Tony slapped his hands onto his cheeks and let them slide down his face.

“He had about twenty bottles Sir,” Friday informed him.

“Twenty?!” Tony looked onto the mess on the floor, “and why did he drink them in here?”

“I couldn’t find the corkscrew,” Loki babbled.

“And so what? You decided to use a hammer instead?”, Tony shouted, which made Loki twist his mouth in pain.

“It was a screwdriver to be accurate,” Loki corrected him.

“How did that even work?” Tony was shaking his head, “anyway, don’t you have a place to go back to?”

“Of course, it seems like I’m the guest who stayed too long. My apologies, I’ll leave immediately,” Loki pushed himself back onto his feet. Not without some effort to keep his balance.

“If you give me the address, I can call you an Uber,” Tony offered, without hiding the annoyance in his voice.

“No need for that,” Loki assured, pointing at his boots.

Tony looked at him, as if the god had lost his wit.

“Darling, would you mind opening a window for me?” Loki asked the ceiling.

“Not at all Sir,” Friday answered. Instantly one of the big windows slid open. Meanwhile Tony had crossed his arms, watching the scene in disbelief.

Loki clicked his heels together like little Dorothy and started walking on thin air. His seven league boots had proved great benefit to him over the years.

“Those god’s and their magic stuff,” Tony mumbled to himself jealously, looking at the god’s back. “Uh-oh,” he gasped, the second Loki reached the window. The god had stepped way too close to the ceiling, but as he had turned his head to give a superior smile towards Tony, he didn’t see the mural. His head collided with the wall and he fell over backwards. With a nasty sound, Loki smashed onto the ground.

“Oh for heaven's sake, Thor is going to kill me!” The mechanic ran to the god’s side, checking if he was fine.

“Vital signs stable Sir,” Friday informed him, “I scanned his body, it’s nothing but a cut on the forehead.”

“Fucking drunkard,” Tony had troubles not to slap Loki while he was already on the floor.

“Ouch—where did that mural come from?” Loki said with a raspy voice.

“It was there all the time you jerk,” Tony was rolling his eyes.

“Maybe I better take that Uber?” Loki rubbed his forehead, smearing blood all over it.

“First of all, we need to look after this cut,” Tony commanded.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to bother you any longer Anthony,” Loki said, getting up again.

“You stubborn…” Tony began.

“It will heal,” Loki interrupted him.

“Yes, after you spilled blood all over the floor,” Tony grabbed him by the shoulder. With one fast move he had sprayed something onto the cut. It cooled the throbbing wound in an instant which took Loki by surprise.

“What was that?” Loki asked.

“Something to close the cut. Now tell me where your brother is?”

Loki was shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know.”

“Didn’t he tell you where he wanted to go?”

“No—by chance I would think he’s stalking Miss Foster again,” a smirk appeared on the god’s face.

Tony hid his face in his hand, he had no clue Thor expected him to play babysitter. “You can stay if you want to,” he sighted.

“I’d prefer to sleep in my own bed.” Loki was brushing his bloody hands on his pants.

“Fine, I’ll drive you!” Tony snapped at him.

“Please, I don’t want to be a burden for you. I’ll find my way back home on my own,” Loki bitched back.

Tony ignored him, “Friday, make sure the Audi is waiting for us.”

“Yes Sir.”

***

Loki’s flat was surprisingly ordinary. Tony would have expected it to be an opulent palace with shiny gold statues showing the god’s counterfeit. One could almost call it minimalist. There wasn’t even much furnishings but a sofa opposite a TV and a big bookshelf covering the wall next to the door. That’s all Tony could see when stepping in. There was a corridor to his right but he felt uncomfortable exploring it without permission.

The polite god had had a feeling that there wasn’t any chance to get rid of his Nanny, so he asked Tony in.

Loki offered him a place on the sofa, but the mechanic disliked sitting down, he preferred to browse the bookshelf.

“Make yourself at home, please. The kitchen you’ll find next door, if you want something to drink. If you could excuse me for a while, I need to have a shower now,” Loki said, disappearing down the corridor.

Tony was fascinated by the books, some of them were written in languages he had never seen before. But also there were many classics he did know, like Shakespeare (at least it must be familiar to Asgardians, as they used this sort of language), Dante, Goethe and many more. Tony randomly grabbed one of the books and pulled out an old, leather bound copy of the Norse Myths.

‘Why would Loki want to read his own tales?’ Tony wondered. He made his way to the sofa and sat down, flipping through the pages. He found notes, scribbled in a child like writing to the side of the text.

One said: ‘After studying Shakespeare, I wonder if he used Valstagg as a role model for his Falstaff? Utter fun.’

Tony was frowning his brows. He had read the Myths before, yet he was interested in seeing them through the god’s eyes, so he started from the beginning. At some point Loki came back in, bringing with him two freezing cans of Coke. He handed one to Tony, when he sank into the pillows next to him.

The mechanic didn’t even bother to look at him, missing the fact that Loki was wearing nothing but boxer shorts. Loki sipped his drink, watching Tony with some interest. After a while he placed the can onto the small table in front of him and let his body sink deeper into the sofa. Loki’s head tipped over to the back, leaning against the wall. He had dark spaces underneath his eyes, the twenty bottles had taken their toll him. Loki fell asleep.

Tony wouldn’t have realised that either, if Loki didn’t sink onto the mechanics shoulder.

“Hey,” Tony tried to push Loki away with one hand. With the effect that Loki’s head landed in Tony’s lap, what made him look down at the god.

“Sweet Jesus, couldn’t you find a T-Shirt?” Tony shifted uncomfortably. Never had he imagined the guy would be so heavy. There was no chance to free himself. Tony sighted, finally he made himself as comfortable as possible and read on.

He was absorbed by the story, when, without his doing, Tony’s hand found its way into Loki’s hair, running his finger through it. The mechanic did that quite a while, until Loki turned around facing the opposite side. Tony got aware of what he was doing. Shocked, he stared at his hand.

Did he just pet another man?! And why did it feel so natural?

He shook the thought off. That was all because of the fight with Pepper, he told himself. He should phone her and apologise. But at this very moment he had no intention to do so. His attention was focused on the god in his lap. Observing Loki’s face this close for the first time, he realised how young he looked. That there was some sadness to it, but also an innocent peace in his sleep.

Tony felt the urge to trace Loki’s cheekbones with his index finger.

Trying to resist, he couldn’t tell how much time had passed. The light was fading slowly, when Loki opened his eyes again. He looked surprised about the delicate situation he found himself in.

Tony was bowing over him, with his face so close that Loki could feel the other man's breath on his cheek.

“Uuuhm, Anthony?” he whispered.

That woke Tony from his rigidity, he shied back.

“You wouldn’t wake up…,” he tried to explain, yet he couldn’t help but stare at Loki’s lips.

What the fuck was wrong with him?!

“I need to pee,” Tony stuttered just to get away from Loki.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the god sat back up.

In an instant Tony was on his feet, heading towards the bathroom. It wasn’t a lie that he had to pee. The Coke wanted to leave his system.

Fiddling for his zipper he froze.

That couldn’t be true! Did he build a tent in his trousers for a guy who once tried to kill him?

Even worse, did Loki realise he had?

Tony felt panic creeping up his chest. Taking some huge effort, he fought the panic down, forcing himself to empty his full bladder.

The mechanic flushed the toilet, turning around to wash his hands. He splashed cold water to his face, tearing out his hair with wet hands.

Tony was desperate about his unusual behaviour. How had Loki managed to charm him? It must have been a spell, there was no other explanation to this awkward situation.

‘I am a straight man, I am a straight man, I am a…’ Tony kept repeating his Mantra.

Well of course there had been some experiments in College, but nothing that ended up to be serious.

When he found he had cooled down, he went back to the living room.

“I just got a call, I need to leave,” he told Loki, staying away as far as possible. He turned towards the door, his fingers already on the door handle, as he felt the god’s hand closing on his wrist, holding him back.

“Uhm, you’ve been my first guest…and, I…thank you for visiting my place,” Loki said, looking at the floor.

Tony opened his mouth in surprise. This day couldn’t get any weirder.

“Thanks for having me,” Tony replied with a little smile, “I really have to go now,” he insisted and Loki let go of his arm.

***

Stark had been in such a hurry to leave, that Loki wondered if he had done something wrong. He was laying on the sofa again, breathing in Tony’s scent that was still lingering there. It reminded the god of machine oil and iron with something fruity to it, but Loki couldn’t figure out what it was.

Did Stark intend to kiss him?

Loki couldn’t tell. The only thing he knew was that he would have allowed him to, this very moment. He wanted it as he saw Tony’s eyes resting on his lips. That’s what worried him most. What would Thor say, if he’d know?

Probably something like: “I knew Stark first,” that made Loki laugh deep down in his throat.

At times he missed his brother, yet he knew why Thor left him here. The god of thunder wanted Loki to get along with everyone on his own. And Thor had to care for New Asgard of course. But they had agreed not to give away too much about it right now.

Loki was the one to stay in New York and keep an eye on the doings of the Avengers.

Yet he wanted to be with Tony for very different reasons.

The mechanic dominated his thoughts and made a new desire grow within him. One he wasn’t sure he ever felt before.

[subtext-bycalvinklein]

Soooo... I have realised no one mentioned this tibdit of information and I feel it's Very Important for the sake of fanfic, so I'm here to bring y'all what a few hours of very focused research after ep 9 of the gifted graduation dropped brought me.

And there's no better place to post this than my tinhatting corner, isn't there?

So. I know we've all read about That Song. We've all read the translation and it's been life changing to see the way the whole scene is shot like a romcom, and how well the song fits the theme of the scene, but my tinhatting brain couldn't stop there. I had to notice that both Pang and Wave sing some parts of the song. Wave does it in the beginning, before Pang comes in, and Pang does so once he's sitting with the earbud on. And, right there and then, the urge to know which part of the song they were singing about came to me. I was especially interested in knowing what Pang was singing, because he's just singing it under his breath, and he does this weird thingy where he's singing the last word, looks at Wave, and then smiles this small smile as he looks away. Which is already... Como se dice,,, pretty romcom-y of them, and I have questions to Nanon about his soft heart eyes and to the screenwriters about their stage directions, but like... It's chill. It's cool.

It gets progressively less cool as one goes to read the parts they were singing.

Let's start with explaining the instruments I used (and, while we're here, let's thank Vale who helped me find all this stuff, she's an angel), bc as a firm believer of science I need to explain my method in case anyone wants to repeat my mistakes: first of all, this is the lyrics sheet I've used for translation. I've put it in this app, which is super useful in that it gives you the translation for every single word and their transliteration, which is extremely important for those of us (me) who don't understand Thai alphabet. To make sure I was using the right lyrics, I've used this version of the song to follow along to, and then, once I was confident I put on the right lyrics, I started to follow along with the episode. And it was... An interesting experience, to say the least.

So. What were they singing, and why do I feel like it's so relevant I had to make a post about it?

Let's start with Wave.

First, he sings this line:

The translation of the sentence is a bit messy, but it corresponds to "there may be times where we meet someone new". That's... Honestly kinda irrelevant to the whole Pangwave business because, well. There's no new people involved? But after that, it kinda gets interesting.

Then, he sings:

The translation for this one according to Google translate should be "but we still have our hearts not afraid" which... Doesn't make much sense to me unless we translate it as "but we still have (keep) each others' heart, don't be afraid" (or maybe "but our hearts are still not afraid", but that seems like too much of a stretch to me), but I'm not sure if I'm just misconstruing stuff, so please feel free to correct me. Now THIS sounds like a sentiment Wave, the guy who's listening to a love song after a fight with his "friend" while drinking his absent friend tea, could relate to.

The final part we hear Wave sing along to is this one:

(Note: I've crossed out the part that Wave doesn't sing because it was part of that same verse)

This one is the trickiest to translate, as Wave gets interrupted mid-phrase, but it's basically the bridge of the song. According to Google translate, we should translate it as: "What I want is keep us always watching / if we accidentally forget-". I guess it could be "what I want is for us to keep being careful [with our hearts] / if we accidentally forget to [...]"

So, all in all it's pretty clear it's a song about two lovers who are momentarily separated, but despite that, still enamoured with each other. Pretty fitting for Pangwave's situation, right? But what really, truly, absolutely made me lose sleep it's not the fact that Wave chose this song, or which parts he chose to sing of it, but what Pang sings. Did I have an inkling before researching the exact line he sings, that it would devastate me? Yes. But did I know how much? Absolutely not.

Here, this is the line Pang sings under his breath:

Once again, Google translate tells us this means "always take care and keep your heart", which is more of less something romcom-y but not romcom-y enough to make me go as feral as I actually went. You want to know what made me actually want to ask a few questions to anyone involved with the scene? It's the fact that the one word Pang murmurs under his breath while looking at Wave, the one word he sings, and then SMILES AND LOOKS AWAY FROM WAVE? it's. This one.

I urge you to look for it yourselves if you don't believe me, but I can assure you I've watched it enough times to be very sure, and I'm still asking myself how is it possible that Pang sings a word which means "heart", "sweetheart" and "beloved one" while looking at Wave and then. He looks away. Like. I just wanna know what was the idea behind this whole scene, because to me it just looks like Pang accidentally on purpose called Wave sweetheart and then realised and got nervous about it.

So, yeah. That's all, and if y'all needed an excuse to make Pang use pet names for Wave in fics, here it is: it's basically canon.

[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Part 17

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 17 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 16 / Part 18

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: swearing, sentiments of sadness

Historical Inaccuracies:

SO. This is more of a disclaimer than an inaccuracy. But it’s very important...

I have written Mary’s character on basis of Lucy Boynton’s portrayal of her in Bohemian Rhapsody. I make no assumptions concerning the relationship between Freddie and Mary, and nor do I condone the things Mary has done in the wake of Freddie’s passing. 

Please remember that this is but a fictionalisation. But anyway. I’m not here to talk about that; I’m here to write fanfic. Let’s go! 

Word Count: 2.6k (can i get three cheers for the shortest chapter ever)

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You found her soon enough. She hadn’t even made it fully up the stairs.

A pitiful sight, she was, sitting with her knees pulled up as she wept quietly into the velvet of her trousers.

“Mary,” you began gently, and she lifted her head.

Her eyes were puffy, and tears had drawn angry red lines down her round cheeks. Her hair, which had previously been up, fell about her face in blonde wisps as her lower lip trembled and her eyes filled anew with tears.

You made your way over to the corner where she sat and she watched you raptly, like a frightened animal. You knelt beside her.

“Hey, what was that all about?”

Mary only shook her head, blinking rapidly in an attempt to stem her tears.

You offered her a hand up, and after a few moments of contemplation, she took it and stood.

She stared at you a moment before rivulets came running down her face again.

“Come on,” you said. “Let’s get some air.”

You led her up the final stairs and pulled open the door at the landing, guiding her outside onto the rooftop terrace.

The night air was cool, and from the heated rush of emotions that still seemed to cloud your mind to the giddiness that still occupied your stomach, the breeze on the roof was one you welcomed.

Mary seemed to relish the sudden cold as well, going as far as to lean out over the railing and close her eyes in the onslaught of the wind.

Thinking that you should probably not allow her to do any leaning given the mental state she was presently in, you came to stand by her side.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Anger flashed across her face, and she wiped her eyes with a frustrated air, only more infuriated by the fact that she was crying.

You were about to assure her that she needn’t say anything at all when she blurted,

“I found Freddie with another man.”

“Oh,” you said. You pressed your lips together, trying to gauge how it was you were to handle this.

“I just can’t believe that he’d lie to me.”

You were reminded of Deacy’s comment about Freddie being ‘nearly pathological’ with respect to lying, but that was hardly helpful right now, and you could only imagine the crushing betrayal Mary must have felt.

“I can believe that he would lie,” she elaborated, fingers curling around the railing, “but not to me. I just— oh, I suppose I thought I was different.” She gave a shudder. “I’d had the feeling that something wasn’t quite right, and I tried to talk to him, tried to tell him that he could tell me anything, and that even if I was mad about whatever it was when he told me, I wouldn’t stay that way.”

Mary turned to you, and the wind tossed her hair wildly, and with the way her eyes still ran with saltwater, she seemed a maiden from some sort of Greek tragedy.

“I love him,” she went on. “But I’ve always felt that I loved him more than he loved me. Now I understand why.”

She slumped to the ground again, her expression dark. “I’m not even angry that he didn’t come out to me. I understand that, because how the hell do you begin to tell your fiance that you want to break of the wedding because you’re gay?

“Freddie’s got this kindness, and sometimes, it’s like he’d lie to a court if it meant that he spared the feelings of those he loves. So I guess, in a way, he does love me. I only wish he’d have tried to break it off with me, instead of waiting until I walked in on him.”

She sighed, and you sat down across from her, folding your legs beneath you.

“So, what now?” you asked, because it seemed that Mary had thought a lot about this already.

But she dropped her head to her hands. “That’s the one thing I can’t work out. Where do I go from here?”

“Have you talked to Freddie, properly?”

She shook her head. “It’s going to take me a long time to forgive him. I just hope he knows why I’m angry, and that it’s not because he’s gay.”

There. That was it. That was where she had to go. “Maybe you should tell him that.”

Mary looked at you, her face wrought in scars of mascara and eyeliner. She lifted her chin and nodded. “You’re right.” She chewed her lip a moment. “But not tonight. I don’t think I can do that.”

You nodded in understanding, because with the way sobs had wracked her body, there would be no energy left for her to have a conversation with Freddie without it dissolving into a bitter argument, even with good intentions at heart.

“Y/N, would it be okay if I stayed in your room for the night?”

“So long as you promise me you’ll talk to Freddie tomorrow,” you said. “Don’t leave him wondering.”

“Yeah.”

You stood. “Let’s just go, then. It’s past midnight anyway.”

Later, when Mary was sound asleep on one of the beds, bundled in the various extra blankets you’d scavenged from cupboards, you lay with your eyes wide open. You’d been kept awake by the sounds of the dwindling party upstairs, which had carried on for long after the scene had been abandoned by its host.

You wondered where Freddie had got to.

And where Brian had.

You’d considered going to find him many times, and had even gone so far as to stick your feet out of bed and set them on the cold hardwood floor, but in the end, you’d made up your mind to do what you always did: nothing.

He’d left you standing in the dance hall, without so much as recognition in his eyes for evidence of having kissed you. And now he was going to tell you that he’d meant nothing of it, a rush of emotions in an exhilarated situation, and you couldn’t bear to hear that.

You’d rather be left wondering than have such a finality imposed upon your mind.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

It had been days, now. They’d been tiptoeing around each other for days.

It was ridiculous to the point where I began to feel the need to take matters into my own hands.

The situation was now ultimately worse than it had been before, because very obviously, something had changed. And I’d wager that something had happened on the first night of tour. They were different now, almost shyer, more fragile in their vulnerability to each other’s charms.

He had pined for her since the late sixties, she had been oblivious since day one, and I doubted that, despite their respectively vast vocabularies, either of them knew the meaning of the verb ‘to converse’. It was all longing looks and unuttered promises, a brush of a hand and staring pensively when the other was unawares.

I was almost offended that they couldn’t pull themselves together, when they were fortunate enough to have each other.

Veronica and Robert would get farther and farther from me as each day of tour escorted us more remotely from London. It hadn’t been an option to bring my wife and our tiny child with us on tour, so I could do nothing now but miss them.

But our two resident idiots, Y/N and Brian, did have each other. And they took it completely for granted.

The open road was quiet and dark, and seemed half-asleep, the trees that blurred past the window swaying to some secret song. A flock of birds streamlined the puffy clouds overhead as the moon greeted the sun in its eternal celestial shift, light yielding light to comfort the earthly beings who feared the darkness. Though I did not fear the dark as such, it was easy to imagine lurking figures between the lone houses by the roads, creeping souls amongst the woods by the road; there was something consuming about this early-morning quiet.

On a stop between Bristol and Cardiff, I left the loos to find Freddie smoking by a payphone, notably absent from the rest of our entourage.

The morning air was chilly, and I wound the scarf around my neck in its second loop, buttoning up my jacket with a shiver. No one was out here other than out of necessity, so I made my way over to Freddie and leaned against the wall beside him.

I turned to face him. “How are you?”

Freddie pursed his lips, tapping ash from his cigarette. “Not at my most fabulous, dear.”

I nodded understandingly, burying my face further into the scarf. “It’s okay, you know. You can’t always be.”

“But that’s why I became Freddie Mercury,” he said quietly, his words nearly carried away by the wind. “I became a legend so I wouldn’t feel like this.”

“Freddie,” I began, “I’m pretty sure being legendary means you have a lot more to feel than you would otherwise.”

He smiled a thin-lipped smile, tossing his spent cigarette into the ashtray mounted atop the rubbish bin. “You are of course right, darling, but right now I’d give anything to feel nothing at all.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Freddie sighed. “I don’t know what I want.”

It was despair in his voice; I recognised it. And I understood it. Because where do you start if you don’t know what you’re working toward?

I placed a hand on his shoulder and he turned his sad brown eyes on me.

“You’re a legend, Freddie,” I reminded him. “You’ve got forever to figure it out, okay?”

He nodded.

“And you can talk to me if you need to.”

“Thank you, Deacy,” he patted my hand. “I think I’ll keep a bit to myself for a while, though, at least until we reach the city.”

“Okay.”

“Now, let’s get out of this cold. I’m freezing my tits off!”

I laughed. “Okay, Freddie.”

And though the open road was quiet and dark and I missed my wife and son, I had my friends. The second half of my family.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You ached to kiss Brian again. To wind your fingers through his hair. To hold him close, because with the worry that wove itself through his brow on behalf of Freddie, he looked so lost, so far away, as though he needed someone to bring his floating self to the ground where his thoughts could wander amongst the living, and not dwell up in the sky with that which he had lost.

Perhaps that was why he looked to the stars so often; he’d lost so much, and they were a constant.

He deserved to have something brought back to him. And if you could return to him some of the light in his eyes instead of stealing it away, then nothing in the world would make you happier.

The mornings on the bus were tense, to say the least.

Without discussion, it seemed that you and Brian had established an agreement to keep Mary and Freddie apart until they had the time and privacy in which to talk. But it was a difficult arrangement, given that the tour bus was not exactly spacious. And given that it meant you had to keep your distance from Brian.

Presently, though, you came second to the efforts of protecting Freddie and Mary from themselves, which meant that Brian did as well. So for now, all you could give to him were silent glances and small smiles.

But Brian seemed to have other ideas.

On the leg from Cardiff to Taunton, just as you were getting back on the bus, someone grabbed your hand and pulled you around the corner.

You tensed, whirling around with your other fist raised, your heart hammering.

But your defenses were instantly disarmed, because there was Brian with his mass of curls in disarray from the wind, his lips parted as though he had been about to say something.

“Are you trying to kill me?!” you cried, your heartbeat still in your throat.

“No,” Brian said, “I’m trying to kiss you.”

“You’re—”

He pulled you to him, melding himself against you, and kissed you soundly on the mouth, his arms winding around you. Your response was immediate, and you leaned so far into him that he stumbled. His laughter tickled your lips, a rush of breath over your skin as he clutched you to stop you from falling with him.

But you pushed him against the wall instead, and his hands rose to your cheeks to kiss you more deeply, devouring— senseless. Precisely as you had once wished for him to kiss you.

There were so many things you wanted to say, but it seemed the most of them were covered in how you moved with him, vulnerable and uninhibited, purely driven by the desire to hold him close, to make him understand with your proximity how much it was you cared for him. How much you would never be able to explain the gravity of your affections for him.

Brian reversed your positions and only the existence of the wall and his arms kept you on your feet; you were dizzy with the surge of excitement that withered you where he touched you.

And his touch was everywhere.

His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, from your jaw to your cheek, to the shell of your ear, and then in a tender trail down your neck. His fingertips fluttered at your sides, warm on your skin, but you shivered, because no one had ever touched you with such a gentleness as this, such desire, such love.

Then abruptly, he pulled back, short of breath and flushed from head to toe, with swollen lips and loose curls sticking up where your fingers had interfered with their natural fall.

The world spun as his eyes flickered between yours.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he hummed.

“You did a bit,” you replied. “We’re on the open road. It is sort of scary out here.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I just missed you. I miss you. I feel like we’re apart, you know?”

You nodded mutely.

He asked softly, “We’re not keeping this a secret, are we?”

You couldn’t believe that he was asking, after everything. But you supposed that was how he was, considerate to the point where he doubted himself if the circumstances favoured you.

“Brian,” you said, “I don’t think I could hide the way I look at you if I wanted to.”

A smile flickered across his face.

Then the rain began to pour.

“Come on, back inside,” you said, taking him by the hand.

“Hang on,” he pulled you back. He lingered a moment, gazing at you aimlessly, and he looked at you the way he looked at the stars.

“What?”

Brian cradled your face in his hands. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to your nose, brushed the pad of his thumb over your skin. “I just wanted to look at you.”

You couldn’t help but smile.

“My evening star,” he murmured.

You shook your head, finding it very hard to believe that this man, who spoke so beautifully, was yours. “You’re a poet, Brian.”

His response would have been enough to flood the coldest land with a wealth of warmth, as absolutely as that which blossomed in your chest.

“And you’re my muse.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: two more parts and an epilogue m’dears :)

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Masterpost / Part 16 / Part 18