#i have without a doubt spent more time researching for this fic than i have writing it

[megamindsupremacy]

Stewjon is Space Scotland: Names and Naming Conventions

For context, I designed an entire naming system for my Stewjon is Space Scotland AU. I'm still trying to work out the cultural logistics of it, but the actual practical logistics I have down.

To break everything down:

Stewjon is a clan-centric society, with clans and clan names having a hugely important role in the culture. I therefore had clan names feature in both the first and last name of Stewjonis.

-The last name (Kenobi) is the family/clan name, and is passed down the family paternally. This is both because I'm from a western culture with a paternal naming tradition, and also because I liked how his parents names sounded when the last names transferred paternally but not maternally. "Ken" would translate to "Clan" (I don't know if this is accurate to Scots English or Scots Gaelic, but I'm working from canon Star Wars names and trying to worldbuild from nothing so work with me here), and then the clan name "Obi" is attached, so "Kenobi" translates to "Clan Obi" or "of Clan Obi"

-The given name (-Wan, but we'll get to "Wan" in a second) is one to two syllables. All of these names are (according to Wikipedia) actual Scottish names, which I picked from the list mostly based on how well they'd sound next to the clan name.

-The prefix clan name (Obi-) is the interesting part. All children are given the father's clan name as both their first and last clan name. Therefore, Obi-Wan Kenobi, son of Ito-Benneit Kenobi, has "Obi" in both his first and last name. However, upon marriage, the couple swaps their prefix clan names to signify the tie between their clans. Therefore his mother Ito-Ceit Kenito and his father Obi-Benneit Kenobi became Obi-Ceit Kenito and Ito-Benneit Kenobi upon their marriage.

-Originally I was going to do something with the fact that "Obi" means belt in Japanese, such as making the clan names signify professions in the same way "Miller" or "Smith" would in English surnames, but I gave up because Japanese is so different of a language from what I understand that I would have just made myself very confused and everyone who understands Japanese language and culture very mad. So I just went with a vowel-consonant-vowel pattern for all the clan names and called it a day.

-Remember how I said we would come back to "Wan"? Obi-Wan wasn't born Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was born Obi-Owen (Owen is a whole 'nother thing and I decided to just give myself a freebie on it), and his name was anglicized (basic-icized?) upon being brought to the Jedi temple. Not on purpose, but it did happen. So technically the chart above should have him listed as Obi-Owen Kenobi, but I already took the screenshot so this is what we're working with.

-Culturally, it's respectful to refer to someone by their full name (Obi-Owen Kenobi). The full name stands until two people are fairly close to each other, platonically or romantically. The informal, friendly version would be their full first name (Obi-Owen). So you wouldn't call your new friend "Obi-Owen" until you're quite close, even if you're social equals. Technically you could refer to someone by their given name only (Owen), but it's awkward and Stewjonis don't really see a reason for it. All of this highlights the cultural emphasis placed on clans and clan ties in Stewjoni society.

The Family Tree

THE KIDS

Starting from the bottom, we have the four Kenobi siblings. Obi-Conn is the oldest, and he marries Yana-Eóin Kenyana, becoming Yana-Conn Kenobi. None of this happens in the story but I wrote it in the chart anyways. Obi-Eóin is nonbinary, which is why their square is white instead of blue or pink.

Obi-Mór and Obi-Pál are twins and approximately four years younger than Yana-Conn. Obi-Mór is ambiguously disabled (she has some form of muscular disability, but the specifics weren't relevant to the story). Obi-Pál is just some guy and I love him for that.

Obi-Owen is the baby of the family. He's twelve years younger than the twins (16 years younger than Yana-Conn) and was definitely an oopsie-baby. I don't need to say anything else because he is also one of the major characters of the Star Wars franchise. You know him.

THE PARENTS

Obi-Ceit Kenito and Ito-Benneit Kenobi are the Kenobi siblings' parents. I don't have much to say here other than that Ito-Benneit shortens his name to Ito-Ben, to avoid the repeated "eet" sound in his full first name. I'm sure that doesn't affect Obi-Owen's future nicknames in any way!

It is Ito-Benneit fault, by the way, that I made clan prefixes instead of surnames to be switched upon marriage. Culturally, it would have made more sense for the more commonly used first name to hold your birth clan and your less commonly used surname to indicate your linked-by-marriage clan, but I needed Obi-Benneit to marry into the name Ito-Benneit so that I could shorten it to Ben. Goddammit.

THE GRANDPARENTS

Ito-Ben's parents are entirely irrelevant so they don't exist. Sad!

Technically I didn't have to name Ito-Lili Kenuna, but I felt bad having her up there as an unnamed person. Una-Owen Kenito, as you may suspect, is where Obi-Wan's name comes from. I really wanted to highlight his Stewjoni heritage in this fic, so giving him family ties through his whole name was important to me. Obi-Ceit names Obi-Owen for her father because Una-Owen was a strong fighter, and she wants to pass that resilience to her son. Which, uh. Well he sure is resilient to things trying to kill him!

Feel free to come yell at me in the askbox about Stewjon's worldbuilding!

[iratempestatis]

Hello! Just dropping in here to say that you're really out there doing God's work with your Xiao fics omg♡.

I'm so happy to have found a fellow xiao lover, this boy deserves all the love and your characterization of him is just so perfect omg. Absolutely loved all the interactions you added with him and other characters in your last fic, especially with Yelan, I think it added so much depth and realism to his character and how he might be in a more mundane setting.

Also also, if that's alright I wanted to share some brainrot ideas with xiao, (this is not a request, I mean, you can absolutely write something about it if you'd like, I'd be honoured, but don't feel obligated in any way, I just really wanted to share this with someone sksksks).

Alright, so Xiao gifting us stuff/making gifts for us himself is such a beautiful concept, and it is so him (literally in game he makes us amulets and charms,...) BUT consider,,, trying to make him something, maybe a gift for lantern rite. Maybe something handmade like a sweater/jumper; adepti might "not be bothered by the cold" but it never hurts to be warm and cozy, and xiao seems to have a fascination for winter (snow particularly). So then you learn how to knit, you research traditional liyuen designs: chuihu sleeves that are pretty and flowy, but with a tighter cuff for practicality (sure, maybe you could have chosen arrow sleeves, but those are usual of military uniforms, and for once you don't want him to see himself only as a warrior), shape reminiscent of a ru jacket, with a loose fit but informal yet dignified structure (something festive enough for a special occasion like the lantern rite, but casual enough so that he can see himself standing alongside humans to celebrate without feeling out of place); a standing collar, and then pankou knots to add secure fasteners but also some aesthetic elements (xiao has told you about his brothers and sisters, you remember him talking about Menogias, and his expertise in fashion, you want to honor that). You look into what are the best materials, lose yourself in so many books in the library to look up liyuen knitting techniques and decorative stitches, you want this to be something that truly represents the land that xiao has spent so much time loving and protecting, his home and heart. And then, as a final touch, you want it to have a purpose (maybe because of the crawling doubt in your heart that Xiao wouldn't indulge something pretty but useless. You know it's not like that, xiao is kind, he'd never do it, but you can't help yourself), you want to add a couple of tassels with amulets and sigils of protection and cleansing (he always fusses about keeping you safe, but you feel the same way about him) so you go to the one person that xiao keeps in such high regard: you go to Zhongli. You go to him, ask if he can still do something like that (he might have stepped down from his role as Archon, but he still has that aura that defines the prime adeptus), you could have asked any other of the adepti he tells you, but you're stubborn, you want this to be meaningful, more than a gift from you to xiao, you want this to be an opportunity for xiao to see how much he's loved, how he belongs right here, in the Liyue of today that he himself helped build through the centuries. So it can be only him, it can only be Zhongli that helps you to make xiao believe in this message. And Zhongli watches, helplessly amused as you ramble about this, he can clearly see the affection, the hours of hard work, he admires your craft, wonder how much time you really have spent on this, making and unmaking it until it looked as finely crafted as it does right now, he can see your efforts, your fears and purpose, and he can't bring himself to say no.

And theen,,, I don't know what Xiao's reaction would be, haven't thought that far, but yeah, basically this is it (and it's already so long holy shitskskdkdk sorry).

But yeah, this has been floating around my brain for so long, and I really wanted to share lol sksksksks.

Feel free to ignore this, it is so extremely long and rambly lol.

Anyways, I hope you're having am amazing day/night, and again thank you so much for your fics^^.

-Hecate

HECATE QGDWHJSDOWHKDDHRKWHDJRKWB THE WAY I GASPED AND PUT MY PHONE DOWN WHEN I SAW IT WAS AN ASK FROM YOU

I have a sneaking suspicion it was you who sent the first ask ngl (it was sent when the post had what, two likes and one was yours, plus the shimmery magic circle agkshekdj) IM SO HAPPY TO HEAR FROM YOU BECAUSE I'VE BEEN POWERED BY THE HIGH OF YOUR COMPLIMENTS ALL DAY!! THANK YOU THANK YOU <3333

And yes he deserves so much love!! I'm so sad to see the fandom migrate to Kinich instead ngl, I love him too but Xiao is special yknow </3

Thank you so much! I was actually so worried I made him too soft but I couldn't see it any other way. And I'm so glad you loved the Yelan bits! The idea of Xiao becoming friends with the chasm gang brings me sm joy, I love to think of his dynamics with Shinobu and Yelan especially! I love his dynamic with them all tbh. I wanted to add Itto in there too, since he's so earnest and has such a heart of gold. He's a himbo but he's so intelligent emotionally- remember his and Takuya's scenes? I wish he and Xiao talked after the chasm quest, I wish he comforted Xiao in his hopeful, determined way

AND YELAN MY LOVEE. I was able to hold myself together for the whole quest for the most part, but seeing her face when Xiao teleported them out was what made me crack and bawl. She looked so heartbroken, she thought yet another person died saving her. Killed me a bit </3

Shinobu and Xiao have little to no interactions but it's fun to extrapolate their dynamic by analysing her's and Itto's. She's frustrated with Itto for his himbo tendencies, but she loves him dearly and knows he's got a heart of gold. He paid for her tuition and by doing so quite literally set her free from the shackles and expectations for her family for which she's clearly very grateful. She's a bit quieter and reserved but she's got so much empathy similar to Itto, so I'd love to see her and Xiao slowly open up to one another. I imagine he'd accidentally maybe say something self deprecating and she'd rebut it in a very matter of fact way, tell him he matters. It's so sweet to think about gqjdhejwkej

Just look at her more about Shinobu: V voiceline

"It's my own decision to stay in the Arataki Gang. It can be pretty annoying having to clean up their mess all the time, but in return, they treat me with a sincerity that is irreplaceable... They always save the best things for me and never leave me feeling down. When I announced my decision to stay in the gang, they all cheered for me. I know outsiders don't think very highly of the Arataki Gang, and the members themselves don't really care what others think. But, I still want to strive to change the impression we leave. I might complain about them from time to time as my family, but I'll never let anyone badmouth them." <33333

YOU SHARING YOUR BRAINROT IDEAS W ME IS SUCH AN HONOUR IM SO HAPPY, absolutely feel free to yap at me about him in asks or dms! I love talking about him

AND YOUR MIND??? THAT'S THE CUTEST IDEA. I love the thought of reader appreciating Xiao and making him such a heartfelt, thought out present omg. It would take so long to make too, and the details of it- your mind, mwah. I'm imagining the jacket and fabric as I read your text and it's so beautiful to think of, the sleeves really bring it together. I wish I could do art so I could draw him in it </3. Maybe I'll beg a friend SJJSJS

Imagine Zhongli snitching to Xiao and telling him of Reader's rambles about him,,, he'd get so flustered it's making me feel all warm

I think he'd thank reader sincerely upon receiving it but it'd be a very short thank you because he'd be fighting back his emotions agdkehsjejdj. I would too tbh, someone taking the time to make him a thoughtful, useful present that took so many hours and so much effort... He deserves it all

NO NO DON'T APOLOGISE TO ME!! THE LONGER IT IS THE BETTER AHEKEJEJN IM SO HAPPY

I definitely want to write it but I feel I'm not smart enough for it lmfaoo,,, id describe the coat in a rlly vague way bc I wouldn't know what all the bits and pieces and details are called and how you actually stitch it all together. But maybe if I have more time on my hands and a free day I'll research and write because it is SO CUTE to imagine I'm gonna qhjdwhske

THANK YOUUU and I'm definitely having a great weekend thanks to you! Thank you thank youu <333

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Hihi~

Congrats on 450 followers! You deserve it~

May I please get Jango Fett with a f!reader with the prompts "Working together again, it's just like old times." And "Can't sleep?"

Please and thank you~

❤️ - @vodika-vibes

Thank you so much for the congratulations and for being my first request @vodika-vibes

I've never written Jango before, but I hope I did him justice after a quick research.

Love oo,

His Princess

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Jango watched as you took a sip of your drink. It’s been a long time since you two have worked together. In fact, the last time you did, things progressed more than he would’ve liked … who was he kidding, he wished he could have more with you. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not in this life anyway, not when everything in his life was up in the air after he lost as Mand’alor. If he had kept his title, maybe things would’ve been different, maybe he would’ve found you sooner, maybe instead of seeing you in this cantina, he would’ve seen you waking up beside him in his arms. With the sound of tiny feet running around in the early mornings. Maybe … 

He stood from his seat, and promptly took the seat in front of you, “Princess, been a while.”

“That it has…” Your eyes narrowed on his visor, you wanted to be angry, you wanted to tell him to get up and walk away, but you knew you couldn’t. Not when he already possessed so much of your heart. “What brings you here?”

“A job” Jango wanted to keep it simple, straightforward. No unnecessary promises or expectations. At least he would try to keep it simple. 

“And you need me for that?”

“I trust you”

That was the pinnacle of it, wasn’t it. Just those three words and you were ready to jump up and walk on to his Firespray, who cared about your heart, your feelings, or how devastated you’d be once he walked away again or dropped you off somewhere without so much as an ‘I’ll call you.’

“Well that’s the real crux of it, isn’t it?” You let out a sigh, you both knew you’d say yes. That was never going to be a doubt, but you weren’t going to give in to him that easily.

“How much?”

“10,000… but since we’re friends, you can pay me half now, half when we’re done.”

Jango rubbed his thumb and forefingers together, “Fine.”

“Now, look at that” you smiled, trying hard not to let the joy in your heart beam all the way to your lips, “working together again, it’s just like old times.”

“I’m at docking bay D-342, I’ll be leaving in two hours. I’ll have your money ready, then.”

“Docking bay D-342.” Was all you repeated, as he stood and walked out of the cantina. You sat there letting out a shuddering sigh, as you tried to keep your nerves intact. You couldn’t let yourself fall for him again, you couldn’t afford to spend two weeks in bed crying that he wouldn’t come back. You couldn’t. 

You swallowed your nervousness and anxiety with a final swig of your drink. 

You glanced down at the bag that held all your belongings, you don’t know why he gave you two hours, but you didn’t really need them. The irony was, you were always ready to go in case he did show up in front of you once again, now that he had … you just couldn’t move your feet to actually go after him. 

You slowly walked up the ramp of his Firespray, you dropped your bag in the spot that had been ‘yours’ from way back when; at least until he felt you had gotten too close … or maybe it was that he got too close, or maybe you weren’t close enough… frankly, you didn’t want to think about that anymore. You had spent months worrying about, trying to figure out what you did wrong, finally you decided you were done thinking about it, but low and behold you’re back on the ship not even five minutes and you were already spinning. 

You closed your eyes, steadying yourself, as you climbed the ladder into the cockpit, sitting beside him. 

“Here” Jango passed a pouch full of credits, “your first half.”

“Thanks,” you took it without further discussion, and tucked it into your pocket. You didn’t need to count it. You trusted him just as much as he trusted you. 

“You can sleep if you want” he finally stated after almost three hours of silence in the cockpit, nothing being said by either of you as you looked out the transparisteel screen at the hyperspace lane before you. 

“No, thanks”

“Still, can’t sleep?”

“I can … sometimes … rarely.”

“Try now, I’m here. You’re safe.”

You turned your head to look at him, and there it was - the reason you had fallen in love with him. He was your shield, your rock, no matter what, you knew he’d be there to watch over you.

“Why …” you caught yourself before you finished your sentence, there was no point in asking, why, he left? Why, he never called? Why did he bother walking back into your life now? 

“Why…” he repeated, hoping you’d finish your sentence. Hoping his Princess would ask him to stay, to never leave her again. God, how he wanted you to say it. He needed you to say it. 

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” You changed the question, there was no point in pulling a thread you knew wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“Making sure I have all the details I need for the job, double checking a few things. Seeing if we need to stop somewhere before we get to our destination.”

You nodded, letting out a sigh. You weren’t sure what you were expecting as an answer, but you should’ve known it would’ve been a pragmatic one. “Alright, well … I’ll try and close my eyes for an hour or two.”

“We have some time before we get there, so just sleep as much as you can.” Jango focused on the screens in front of him, he couldn’t look at you right now, because if he did, you would’ve seen the longing in his eyes, wanting you to ask him to join you. Wanting … no, needing to wrap his arms around you, to smell your hair, to feel your body pressed against his … he couldn’t look at you until he got his own feelings and desires under control. Your actions were clear, you’d be here to help him with the job, nothing more. 

You stood, hesitating for a second before you climbed down, wanting to tell him you needed him to join you. But your mouth wouldn’t open, it refused to let your heart speak no matter how much you begged. You looked at the back of his head one last time, praying he’d turn around and look at you, praying he could see how much you needed him. But he never did, so you climbed down and headed to his quarters. Even if he didn’t join you, at least his bed smelled like him, and for a brief few hours you could delude yourself into thinking you belonged here.

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Tag list:

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[bookscandlesnbts]

Quick facts about me that no one asked for:

Figured since I’ve posted more here and answered some asks, I would share some facts about me on my blog both BTS/Jikook related and non related.

1.) I became ARMY during quarantine era. A friend got me into them. After I watched their MMA 2019 performance I was blown away. She was a Yoongi bias so that is whose content I initially watched and gravitated towards. When I ventured out on my own and watched more performance stages and Run BTS I knew immediately that I was drawn to Jimin. Everything from his stage presence, gorgeous vocals and dance lines, funny and sassy personality, but also super empathetic and caring. He was it for me and still is. But I do love all seven of them. I could probably rank them in order of my “favorites” but Jimin would be number 1 without a doubt.

***super fun fact is that I actually first was exposed to BTS in 2017 :( that’s right, I could have stanned back then. I frequently kind of kidding but not really refer to this as my biggest regret. An undergrad in my research group was obsessed with them. She showed me a clip of them dancing and probably because I didn’t like her that much (she was friends with someone toxic) I chalked it up as so they sing and dance? Who cares. I ended up reconnecting with her later when I stanned and found out that she was a low-key TKK shipper and loved reading their fanfics. By that point, I was already sus of Jikook so we clashed and I don’t talk to her. 🤣

2.) That brings me to point number two. The most important: Jikook. I wish I could remember the first time I was like yep this is a thing but I don’t. I do remember the first Jikook moment that I was exposed to was their Black Swan pas de deux. I remember finding their chemistry palpable and bold of them to perform a romantic dance together but that was it. The more I watched Run BTS and being a Jimin bias I couldn’t help but notice JK too and their closeness. What was the nail in the coffin so to speak? The cliches. GCF Tokyo and Rosebowl did it for me and I’ve been endeared by them ever since.

3.) I’m a sort of Jikook fanfic writer on A03 who I guess is on a hiatus and has been for awhile now. I love fanfiction and have been reading it and writing it a little since I was like 12. I was never a RPF girlie until BTS but I view them as characters in a story because that is what they are when I’m reading or writing fics. Not the actual people.

4.) I’m asexual and probably aromatic to some extent too. Asexuality is so misunderstood, I could go on about it for days, but I’m not the authority on it by any means. I like the idea of sex in the abstract. Fanfics, great. M/M where I don’t feel inserted in the act, even better. I’m not a prude, I just don’t experience sexual attraction. The idea of looking at someone even the tannies and wanting to fuck them makes me uncomfortable and it’s something I can’t relate to and have never felt. I’ve had sex of course, but it’s never lived up to the hype for me. I can definitely live without it. As far as being aromantic that I’m not sure. I love the idea of romance or I wouldn’t be so smitten with Jikook and other cute couples. I don’t actively seek romance in my life. I don’t date or want to date. I haven’t had a crush on someone in like 10 years. I’m not opposed to it. Their gender wouldn’t matter to me but it’s not something I feel like I need in my life. If you are anywhere on the ace spectrum or are LGBTQIA+, hi you are more than welcome here.

5.) I’m educated! I have a PhD in chemistry. I am on the Professor track and I teach organic chemistry. I spent 7 years in grad school combined for my masters and PhD.

So yeah! This way you know a little about me when you send in asks. I am terrible at formatting and use my phone only for Tumblr, so my blog probably won’t ever be pretty. I’m just here for connections and content that is more in depth than Twitter. Yes, I’m still calling it twitter. Sorry not sorry Elon.

[tasavvur-e-jaana]

A Gondi Christmas

yet another old fic. @ronaldofandom aap bohot mehnat karvaate ho. hope you remember what you commented :))

//

Everything seemed to be in order. Just like he had discussed with Ram. But the gond warrior was thrumming with nervous energy. What if she doesn’t like it? What if it is not up to the mark? What if she finds it offensive? She must have had grand and opulent and intricate events before this. What if this seems childish and dull and bland in comparison? I should have spent more. If not monetarily, then in efforts. Ughh! This is not where it is supposed to be! Bheem walks around and adjusts the ornaments for a thousandth time. 

“Annayaa! Leave it be!” came an irked voice from behind him. Lacchu dragged him by his arm outside. “You’ll spoil it now if you fuss about it more! Trust me. She will love it.” The younger man assured him with a gentler tone. Bheem looked at his friend. The one who had helped him with the decor. The one who had actually listened to Ram’s instructions for the first time and followed them to a T without making any fuss just because he knew how much this meant to Bheem. 

Bheem smiled at him, a beaming smile that Lacchu reflected without missing a beat. He wrapped his arm around Lacchu’s shoulders, his closest friend, his little brother. He had heard about this strange winter solstice festival that the British celebrated for the first time from Jenny, not catching much but the word Christmas had been etched in his mind. As she was rambling about how it was, what people normally did, what they ate, cogs had been turning in Bheem’s mind. It had been almost nine months that she had been staying with them. 

A self-imposed exile she had chosen for herself after the whole debacle, no longer wanting to ally with her own people in any form. Wanting to be a part of the revolution- she had cited her reasons, and her usefulness if she were to join them. She could give them insight into the workings of the Empire, teach the revolutionaries their language so that they could fit in better and how she would be an asset to them and not a liability. Deep down, they both knew it was more than that though, and Bheem would have been ecstatic about her living with him anyway. However, he also knew Jenny was remorseful and a girl with self-respect. She would hate for herself to impose on the tribe, needing a purpose like everyone else who had joined the cause in one way or another. There was a deep-seated need in her to be accepted in the tribe, to be useful in every way possible. 

Who was Bheem to deny her that? Who was Bheem to her anyway? Yes, they were friends, and yes he wanted more. But did she? Lacchu had called him a fool and threatened to throw a stone at his thick skull when he confessed his doubts about it to him. His exact words being, “How can a person as smart as you be so dumb? How can you, someone who can spot a tiger hiding yards away can not see her love for you? TELL HER! Do something nice for her in this Christmas festival she celebrates and TELL HER!!! Or I’ll hit you with the same tree over your head.”

Thus, had begun thorough research on Bheem’s part about what the festival was with help of local library resources from the city and a long series of multiple letters exchanged with Ram followed by a week of intense preparation in the time when he was visiting a few days before December 25th. Through all this, Lacchu had been a dedicated assistant, pitching in the most amazing ideas. Who knew the guy was a genius in arts and craft? 

“Thank you, Lacchu!” the curly haired man turned, holding Lacchu’s shoulders in a firm grip and squeezing once. “Really! This wouldn’t have been possible without your help. You’re the best chinna anyone can ask for!” His eyes grew misty as Bheem showered him with compliments. 

The whole process of preparation had helped Lacchu grow closer to his anna. His best friend. Since a while, it had been as if there was a chasm of formality between them that had been growing wider, especially after the entry of new people in Bheem’s life. Like Jenny. And Ram. Although Lacchu garnered nothing but love and respect for Jenny unlike his unscathed loathing towards the latter, he had still been aloof. More and more with each passing day. Of course he never let any of his emotions surface, he didn’t want Bheem to feel guilty or even sad, but it did hurt that the one person he considered his best friend, the one who had been his ideal, the one who had always been with him almost 24x7 from childhood: he now had to share with others. People who mattered to Bheem more than Lacchu now, the younger man was cast aside. 

Lacchu blinked away the tears on the verge of forming beneath his lids and shook the melancholic thoughts away. Christmas was supposed to be about joy, and today was not about him. He shooed Bheem away, “Now go! Bring her in before she suspects anything. I don’t know how much longer Malli can keep the suspense and stall her class seeing as she herself is throbbing with excitement more than any of us.” A smile gracing his lips at the retreating back of anxious Bheem. 

…

“Bheem! Please remove the blind-fold now.” Jenny urged as she was led in via a soft grip on her arm by the gond man. “What is it that you wanted to show me anyway? I was in the middle of my last evening class!” She chastised him for rushing her so. 

“Just a few more steps please. And stop being so dramatic! It was the end of your session and you know it.” Bheem retorted. 

A couple more steps and Jenny felt the warmth of the hut. It was not cold in these parts in the winters, especially not to her tastes, but there was a nip in the air tonight. The feel of grass beneath her slippers was gone, replaced with hardened ground. She felt Bheem let go of her, the black fabric sliding away from her eyes in a swift motion. She blinked a couple of times, her eyes adjusting to the light. 

Her imagination had been running amok as to what it would be that Bheem wanted to surprise her with. And the whole blind-fold thing was as juvenile as it was unnecessary in her mind but enchantingly endearing because it was Bheem. She could not refuse his doe-eyes and that puppy face when he had requested her to comply and that it was important to create a dramatic effect. Even Malli was hopping up and down, gushing about how she would love it. However, in the wildest of her imaginations, she had not been prepared for the sight that greeted her. 

It was her hut, alright. The room had been lit with diyas, and a five feet tree laden with all sorts of trinkets and ornaments stood in the middle of it. It was a Christmas tree alright, but it wasn’t pine or fir, it was created from bamboo. An almost exact replica of a Doulgas fir. The branches, the intricately woven bamboo straws that were made into branches and cut in tiny sharp formation of leaves. It had been painted dark green and soft, white cotton spores scattered on it resembling the snowflakes. The tree was ordained from little trinkets all around, some resembling the ornaments she was familiar with but made from painting wooden balls in various hues of reds and indigo. Strings of beads and tiny knitted red socks were hanging from branches, gifting life and even more colour to it. It was the most beautiful thing she’d seen.

In her admiration, she almost did not notice the painting on the side wall. It was unmistakably Santa but instead of riding in the snow, he was riding in the forests surrounded by teaks and bamboo and blooming cassia. The sledge was driven by sambars and nilgais- the animals native to the forest that had gradually started to become her home. She put her hand covering her mouth as she chuckled wetly, unaware of the tears that had begun to form in her eyes. 

“Happy Christmas!” The familiar, deep baritone startled her. She turned around and crashed into Bheem with a force that sent him reeling a couple of steps back, her hands falling around his neck, her face buried in his chest. Bheem regained his balance in a second, his hands reflexively going around her waist to encompass her in his arms. The warmth of her, the scent of her enveloping him in a heavenly bubble. 

It was a long time before they separated, Jenny reluctantly let him go, but not fully, still clasping his hands in hers. “Bheem!” she began, only to be interrupted by a sob, words lodged in her throat, her heart so full with love and admiration and happiness; she thought she would burst. 

“What happened Jenny?” Bheem asked, worry lacing his eyes, his smile fading as he witnessed tears in her those light brown, gold speckled orbs. “I know this is not as grandiose or perfect or ornate as it should be. And perhaps not accurate at all. I just-” 

He was cut off by a delicate palm against his lips. Jenny shook her head, composing herself, compelling her brain to sort out words for the normally the bravest idiot standing in front of her who was always unsure and apprehensive about himself when it came to them. “Bheem,” she took a deep breath, “This is the most beautiful Christmas tree I’ve seen in my life. I don’t care about opulence anymore, you should know that by now! This-” she pointed all around, “this gesture from you means more than all the comfort, all the parties to me.”

“Well, it was not all me. Lacchu and Ram and Malli and Loki were a huge help!” Bheem sheepishly added. “I couldn’t have done it without them!”

Jenny laughed, a pearly little sound that resonated deep within Bheem’s heart tugging at the strings in the most touching was possible. “Ok then! All of them. I love everything about this! The creativity, the innovation, the touch of your culture, your home.” She lowered her eyes, her hands playing with Bheem’s fingers as she demurely added. “Which has become a home to me too. And it is all because of you.” Her breath quivered as she uttered the final words that Bheem was gathering courage to voice for some weeks now. “I love you, Bheem.” Her hands slipped away from his, she took a step back as if giving him space, bracing herself for rejection. 

She had not at all anticipated to confound him like this. Nonetheless, the words were always on the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill out. This was the last thing she expected from him. She had told him all about home and London in one of their late night talks, the conversation inadvertently taking turn to festivals. She had gone on and on about Christmas, her favourite time of the year- the joyous spirit of it, the decorative rituals and the tales of her childhood. She could not believe that he remembered a random babble from months ago. 

Memories rushed back on seeing all of this. She had come to live here, yes, but she also missed home, the festival, the food. Especially around this season. Not that she had disclosed it to anyone but one cannot just uproot their origins that easily. She had been feeling bouts of homesickness, sketching more and more paintings depicting snowy landscapes, scenes from nativity in her free time. It was a coping mechanism that helped. More than that, she kept herself insanely busy, encircled by the people she’d come to know and who had accepted her into their folds. 

A warm breath fanned her cheeks as a finger curled under her chin, making her gaze directly into the brown, honey dipped supernovas that took her breath away each time with their infinite depths and unending intensity. Looking at them, she caught a glimpse of the raw emotions swimming in those orbs. She could clearly discern love, adoration, affection, and a hundred other emotions, and she knew it was the right choice that she’d made. Coming here, confessing, leaving everything behind on a whim was worth it. This wonderful, gorgeous human being in front of her loved her with the same ferocity, if not more. And with that last thought, she let herself relax.

“Jenny! I- I,” Bheem stuttered, his heart beating a mile a minute, his uneven breath, his eyes searching the depths of Jenny’s souls as if he would find the next words written there. “It’s okay.” She soothed him, “I know. Take your time.” 

“No! I want to say it. I need to say it.” 

She nodded. Waited with all the patience in the world for Bheem to assemble his thoughts, his words. She understood it was hard to let out those words for him as it was tough to keep them in for her. Bheem had always been a man of action after all. 

“I never thought I would meet someone as beautiful and kind as you. Seeing you, interacting with you, I was always afraid initially. We were on opposite sides, in every sense of the word. You from a land far away, a princess who grew up in castles and me, a mere commoner, someone who is working to end the empire that was your home, a classic cliche of star-crossed love that has all the earmarks of a tragic ending. I was terrified the first time you set foot in the village, leaving everything behind and coming to stay here. I was afraid if you would be able to adjust, if the people would accept you, if I would be forced to choose between you and my people, my revolution. But the grace with which you handled the transition while I was a complete and utter mess, how could have not fallen for you? You left me no choice but to fall in love with you more and more with each passing day, each passing hour. I only hope I can be worthy of your love.”

Jenny hit him on his bicep at that. “You idiot! Come here!” She placed her palms on his jaw, closing the distance between them, capturing Bheem’s lips in a soft yet intimate kiss as one hand snaked around to the curls at the back of his head. A giddy feeling enveloped the man as he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up a little, deepening the kiss by tilting his head. 

They flung apart like live wires having the same charge at the sound of a clearing throat. Jenny was the darkest shade of crimson as she turned away from the entrance where Lacchu stood, a wide smirk on his face, eye dancing with mirth as Bheem snapped at him to hide his own embarrassment. Both wanted the earth to split and swallow them whole. “WHAT?” He growled, feigning all the irritation he could muster. 

“Everyone is waiting with the sweets and gifts!” He reigned the laughter that was waiting to spill at his anna’s cost. It was sweet to see the always confident and courageous Bheem be a swiveling mess in front of Jenny. It was not a huge deal as Bheem was making it out to be, it was just a kiss for god’s sake, but the younger man would now not leave any chance to fluster Bheem. It was fun, just like the good old days. 

“Oh, okay, you go we’ll follow!” Bheem had barely recovered, not wanting the others to wait. He had already hogged Jenny for too long. They had all the time in the world now.

“So, I assume she liked the gift?” Lacchu winked, grinning widely as Bheem slammed the door on his face, his face becoming hot all over again with Jenny splintering into a giggle beside him. 

//

hope anyone who is still in the fandom and is reading it likes it.

[pollywiltse]

(clearing out some more of my drafts)

Found another excerpt of her novel, because if someone is on Goodreads as an author and a reviewer, it's really unintuitive to get from the author page to the reviewer page, at least on the phone, so I used Google. On the one hand, this is unfair because I'm pretty sure she's self-published. On the other, she's charging money for it. (Also, like, you're really not entitled to have everyone claim your work is wonderful just because you spent a lot of time on it and you can't make a living if people give your book bad reviews.)

Mc looks like he's actually straight, he just has kind of a slash fic character personality. (Or maybe he's bi?) Her writing is really bad though. That somehow didn't stick with me the last excerpt I read - probably because I was too stuck on John André putting his mouth all over some guy's paper cross, which is not a euphemism. But oh boy it's bad on a technical level. Also André is drinking "something caffeinated" from a mug. I'm going to assume it's 18th century Monster.

He's also evidently a highly skilled tailor with strong opinions about clothes. Ok, he was pretty fashionable, but I doubt moreso than the average good-looking young British officer, and I'm pretty sure if you handed him a needle, and asked him what to do with it, he would be like, "I give it to someone who knows how to use it, like Peter Laune or a woman, hopefully without sticking myself". Just because he designed the costumes for the Meschianza, it doesn't mean he could sew, or that he designed regular clothes, or even other costumes.

It really, really does not mean he could sew, especially actual clothes.

(I had assumed he designed costumes for the theater as well, but there was something in that theater book that made it sound like they might have used their own clothes, plus when he says, "the Meschianza made me a complete milliner", that might imply that he only did costumes for that. Either way he certainly wasn't sewing them. Shadow Patriots (or Patriot Shadows, I forget which; all I remember is it's the one where the author accidentally gave General Howe two penises because that's what happens when you're a bad writer) also had André and the maid who's Agent 355 because we can't let that one fucking go sewing the dresses for the Meschianza and I was reading it like, "You guys know they have professionals for that, right?")

She really did no research, because André was fluent in German. It's supposed to have helped him become a staff officer because he could actually talk to the Hessians and most other British officers couldn't. Also I have questions about the clothes.

Also can we please stop with André the undercover spy and André the working intelligence while he was in Philadelphia?

You can tell they're French because they do wine and cheese stop I'm dying.

And then I found a couple other pieces from her trilogy which are André and the main character having interminable discussions about religion in which André and the main character seem to believe exactly the same things as the author, except André added some Protestant stickers because she's not that out of touch with reality. Strange coincidence. (The funny thing is I'm actually semi-interested in religion during the Revolutionary War era, but not like this.)

Oh weird, she does have a very negative Goodreads review for the terrible Thorland book, which I somehow missed last time I checked, but for some reason she's under the impression that IRL André was bi. Actually I'm curious where she even got this because while it's a constant surprise to me that misconceptions about André's sexuality aren't widespread, I think they're actually really not. (Probably because he's just not that well known, tbh.) Also the people I've seen who do have those misconceptions about André's sexuality also don't seem to believe that he's bi as opposed to gay, probably because ultimately they don't believe in male bisexuality. (I mean, I think they believe that they believe in male bisexuality, but I also think that when they talk about a specific bisexual man, they end up talking about his relationships as if he wasn't really into women.)

Look, there is really no evidence that John André was anything other than a happily gender-conforming heterosexual man. The "evidence" for André being into men is basically that modern people think he's kind of girly, and probably some of the Benedict Arnold fanboys are jealous because everyone likes André and hates their fave who was so much more of a real man because he liked interminable hikes through the Canadian winter instead of poetry. (I really need to find the Meschianza piece from the 70s where the writer clearly desperately wanted André to be a twink. I don't think he knew what a twink was, but he clearly wanted André to be one.)

I mean, he could have been bi, because there are a ton of people who are technically bisexual but for all intents and purposes largely indistinguishable from straight people, sometimes even to themselves, but that's more like if you want to believe he was only mostly rather than exclusively into women, that doesn't contradict the evidence we have, but it isn't supported by the evidence either and the evidence we have really really doesn't support the idea that he was much farther along the line than heteroflexible so maybe hold off on adding him to your Revolutionary War Queers poster. (Tbh he might not even want to be on a Revolutionary War Queers poster even if he was not completely straight because I know a number of people who are bi according to the dictionary definition and are ok with not being straight but not ok with identifying as part of the queer community because if you're bi, especially if most of the people you're into are the opposite sex, you end up feeling more like a straight person a lot of the time, so it's actually really shitty to be told you have to identify as queer/lgbtetc because you're being pressured to identify with a group of people you often don't feel like you have very much in common with, plus they're the ones who keep telling you that they know your sexuality better than you do. Also the other thing with the word queer specifically is that just because some people were reclaiming it in the 70s, it doesn't mean that other people didn't mainly experience it as a slur even later than that. One of my friends grew up in northern Florida in the 90s and early 2000s and he doesn't like the word because everyone he knew used it as a slur. He doesn't complain when other people use it, because that would be pointless, but I don't think he'd ever in a million years call himself queer, so it's really obnoxious when people who clearly weren't around then post things about how only possible reason that you don't like the word queer is because you're a bigot, which I have definitely seen.)

This is another bit of slack you don't get cut when you start charging money for your fanfic. If you want to write slash or André being into BDSM or actually having sex with Peggy Shippen outside an AU (or Turn canon, I guess), I don't care, whatever. (Ok, unless your André/Benedict Arnold fic turns André into an unpleasant misogynist who was never into women and who thinks all the women hitting on him are stupid bitches and he hates them and then I'll be out for blood, especially when you seem to be on his side. Or if you think that a man being unmarried at 26 and wearing his hair in a braid in the 1770s is a sure sign he's gay, and then I'll laugh at you so hard I'll barf.) If it's on AO3, it doesn't matter because everyone thinks fanfic is over-the-top porn/romance where, for example, André is saved from execution because Washington decides to keep him as the American officer corps' sextoy, and then it turns into a slowburn romance where André and Lafayette slowly fall in love while bonding over their abusive childhoods and their autism diagnoses never mind that that makes no sense on multiple levels but then there's a crisis where André turns out to be pregnant with Washington's baby which the reader had no reason to think was something that could happen until now, but after 20 chapters of misunderstandings they end up in a happy polycule and for some reason they talk about polyamory exactly like people from the 21st century America and Lafayette adopts André and Washington's baby and also this is somehow set in the Harry Potter universe and André was in Slytherin even though clearly he's a Hufflepuff. In other words, no one takes fanfiction seriously because they think it's inherently absurd. Whether this is fair or not is beside the point of this post.

But once you start publishing your fanfiction - even if it's self-published, because it's still on Amazon like a real book - people start thinking you did research (especially because all these authors say they did research and they probably did do research, but that doesn't mean it was enough research, or the right research, or that everything in the novel is backed up by research, or that they didn't pitch the research out the window when it conflicted with what they wanted to write) so clearly when your Team Benedict Arnold novel portrays André as actually being into 12-year-old boys but sleeping with Clinton because it was good for his career (that would be John Ensar Harr's The Dark Eagle), that's historically accurate, especially if it fits the stereotypes the reader already has, and then it's a fight to convince them it's not true. So then I start caring, because people have this weird tendency to believe historical fiction authors don't make things up. (There were several reviews of the Thorland book where the reviewer went, "André has a reputation as a nice person, but this book has convinced me that he was actually pure evil because Donna Thorland has a background in history so clearly her portrayal of him must be correct". *headdesk* There were also the Goodreads reviews of Burr where people were like "I liked Thomas Jefferson until I read this book" even though the bits about Jefferson are from Burr's point of view and Burr is a clearly biased narrator and in fact Gore Vidal says in an author's note that "All in all, I think rather more highly of Jefferson than Burr does" like the author explicitly didn't intend you to just accept either narrator's opinions.)

It's always funny when people write André as acting like he thinks he's hot shit because from what people said about the real guy, one of the things that everyone found so charming about him was that he didn't act like he thought he was better than everyone else.

I was flipping through Finishing Becca again. I really desperately want to know where that characterization came from.

Though speaking of batshit characterizations I need to find that girl on Goodreads again who thought André was a deeply religious Christian and also possibly gay* (he is in her novel but idk if she believes that or just thinks it's hot) and see if she's read any of André's actual biographies yet because boy is she in for a surprise when she finds out there's no evidence for André being either gay or religious. They were all on her to-read list last time I checked. Which didn't stop her from including him in her novel.

She posted a part of her in-progress novel where André finds the main character (who might also be a slash fic character?) making paper crosses and the mc is embarrassed and André's like, "No, it's ok, my one true love is actually Jesus like my mother taught me and I'm just in denial about it and going to all these wild parties to repress my deep love for Jesus" and then he picks up one of the crosses and starts making out with it. It was definitely a take.

Also for someone whose Protestant ancestors were driven out of their home by Catholics, her version of André is really chill around Catholics. Like regardless of whether he was a religious Huguenot (she thinks) or a borderline Deist Anglican (I think), I'm pretty sure he'd hate Catholics.

*Because she's clearly a repressed slash writer and also I'm pretty sure she picked it up from Donna Thorland's awful awful romance novel where André's a sociopathic spy master in Philadelphia and his one redeeming characteristic is his true love for Caleb Cope the 17-year-old youngest son of the Cope family, which is fascinating because their oldest son, John, was 12 when André was in Lancaster, so having their youngest son be several years older than their oldest son would take some doing, and also Peggy Shippen is a dumb bitch who can't tell André can't stand her and who everyone hates even the people who were historically enchanted by her and there's this whole thing where she somehow manages to have André's baby but pass it off as Arnold's even though she didn't marry Arnold until nearly a year after the British army left Philadelphia and she couldn't just wander around being pregnant and unmarried that whole time (also there's this whole thing where André inexplicably makes birth control the sheltered 17-year-old girl's problem even though he claims he didn't want to get her pregnant) and way too many people are convinced this is historically accurate because Donna Thorland has a background in history but frankly after reading this book I'm now worried about what exactly was going on in the part of the Peabody Essex Museum up in Salem where she worked because this book is not winning any prizes for historical accuracy, unless maybe it's a literary equivalent of the Razzies. Also I kind of think Thorland is one of the people who thinks straight men are masterful and dominant and aggressive and their relationships with their one true loves are really kind of antagonistic, and that's why André ended up being gay, because a man who is nice to women is inherently sus. This is of course very depressing because my ideal man isn't Petruchio and of course the people who think like this don't believe in lesbians either. I'm not sure any of the women in that Thorland novel even liked each other platonically, let alone romantically. But to be fair I didn't read most of the book, because it also wasn't that interesting. I was just there to see if she had, in fact, made André Chester the Molester who gets handsy with the 12-year-olds. (I still think she meant Caleb Cope to be John Cope, she just slacked on the research. Caleb was John Cope's father and none of the other kids in the family were named Caleb. The youngest at the time André was in Lancaster was Jasper, who was like a year, so presumably not having a torrid affair with André. This is A Record of the Cope Family by Gilbert Cope, p 32 of whatever edition Google has scanned.) This version might be worse, honestly, because it's sexist but with plausible deniability.

I think Goodreads Jesus girl might have assumed he was from a deeply religious family because the Huguenots were religious refugees, but just because you're from a religious disapora doesn't mean you're super religious and in fact he seems to have been the only child to have been baptized in a Huguenot church and from his oldest sister's birth they were going to Anglican churches because they seemed to care more about social climbing than Jesus, and I'm not even sure how religious the average Huguenot refugee was. There was also this story that a copy of "The Hiding Place" in his handwriting was found in his coat pocket after his execution, but the source seems to be Roger Lamb repeating a story that he heard from someone else who he just says is a "respectable person, a native of America" and no idea how they knew, especially since they're incorrectly crediting André as the writer and even Sargent the Victorian thinks it's nonsense. The actual evidence for André's religious belief suggest that he didn't have very much, though I sort of assume he vaguely believed in Christian mythology on the grounds that you might have had to care a lot more than I think he did about religion to believe in something else if you were from a Christian background living in 18th century England.

[welcometomyfloor]

Ridonculous Race Season 2, Team: The Rivalry Twins

Okay, so it's been more than a month since I posted The Jocks' team info post but you'll ain't paying me to make this so... \/(-_-)\/

And, once again, swimsuit sketch-ies because I wanted to.

(Also, I tried a new way of rendering after hating the way I did it the first two times and kinda like it. Idk, I'm currently on one of my "art style journey" kicks so I can't guarantee all these '#TDRR Season 2' pics will look cohesive with one another.)

Notes on the Original and Modified Character Designs:

I'm head-cannoning them both at 5'4" because it just makes sense to me.

I think their hair is naturally blonde and not bleached (not important, just an idea I had.)

Okay, so as you can see, neither Sammy or Amy are wearing their "cheer" uniforms (more on why I say "cheer" in the next bulletin point) and that's because I think it's weird that they wear them in Pahkitew. That being said, I spent much more time on Sammy's outfit than I did with Amy's, and I'm at peace with that.

Back to the "cheer" thing, I re-watched TDPI and checked the Total Drama Fan Wiki and (to my knowledge) nowhere where Amy and Sammy explicitly said to be cheerleaders. And, honesty, it was the Go-Go Boots that tipped me off to making this discovery. From both personal experience and some research, high school cheerleaders don't wear those. But, do you know who does wear Go-Go Boots and look similar to cheerleaders? The marching band front line. So, despite me putting them in different outfits anyways, I'm gonna say they're in flag line and not cheerleaders.

Sammy-

Our girl on the right hand side (for both the team picture and swimsuit sketch-ies) aka, the little lady with the pony tale.

First and foremost, lets be clear, we love and respect Sammy on this blog and will not be personally referring to her as 'Samey". (She will be tagged as that and some characters will call her that in the fic, but she will not be referred to as 'Samey" outside of that context.)

I generally just wanted to make her look like a semi-outcaste and possibly Sapphic athletic girl. So, her outfit is pretty basic, it's just a white crop top with colored stripes on the sleeves, some high-waisted jean shorts, and red sneakers. And, yes, I know wearing a black sports bra under a white shirt is a bad idea but I really liked the aesthetic of it so some practicality went out the window. It's my redesign, I can put whatever clothes I want on her.

I decided to make their swimsuits almost identical (hardy-har-har, I know) the most important difference for Sammy's outfit being that the bikini bottoms are tied in bows on the side. (Because... she's the nice twin... get it... she's the sweet one so she has bows... I will not apologize for being a genius. /hj)

Amy-

If you didn't figure it out already, she's the one on the left (in both pictures) aka the one with her hair down.

I got rid of the mole because 1. I don't like it and 2. the blueberry thing was dumb and made me hate it more.

I was tempted to put Amy in a revised flag line uniform but four years of marching band has told me that she wouldn't be able to do that without getting seriously scolded. So, I just put her in an off the shoulder fitted red belly shirt and some black short-shorts. Definitely something that would get her sent home from school but I doubt Amy would care about that. I wanted to keep some semblance of her old design with the inclusion of the white pumps, and the necklaces are just there for fun. She's also wearing nylons because she's that kind of bitch.

Her bikini is a brighter, more obnoxious shade of red because she's the worst... enough said.

Team Dynamic and Background Information for Ridonculous Race Season 2:

It's been about a year since Pahkitew was recorded and the twins are now 17, going into their senior year of highschool. Life hasn't changed much since the show aired as their parents where already aware of Amy's toxic behavior and have done nothing about it. Sammy has invested most of her free-time into applying to whatever college gets her as far away from Amy as possible.

They're both come back with the intention of spending the money in regards to college, I'll be it in their own ways. Sammy wants to become a preschool teacher (again, it just feels right) and Amy wants to... not go to college and get a standard job. They come from an upper-middle class family but mommy and daddy have made it clear that they're not paying for their daughters' lifestyles after they graduate.

Their dynamic hasn't really changed much as Sammy has reverted back to coping with Amy's abuse by yielding to it (and therefore making herself less of a target.) However, the competition is going to strip Sammy of many of her "saving graces", those mostly being: alone time and contact with whatever allies she may have. Since she isn't going to have much of a break from her sister's constant bullying, it's only a matter of time until Sammy cracks under the pressure. At the same time, Amy isn't going to let Sammy quit or otherwise let Sammy hold her back from winning. Amy, despite her many faults, is a fierce competitor and above all, values being perceived as "the best".

(This ones for all of you who hated the fact that no-one, other than Jasmine, sided with Sammy, because so did I.) Anyways, as this is Ridonculous Race and not the normal Total Drama survivor inspired show, Don will obviously be hosting. And Don, unlike Chris, is a semi-rational human being with a working moral compass. So, if it's any consolation, Don will be calling Amy out for being a piece of shit to her sister (along with some other contestants). You're welcome.

Personal Life Head-Cannon Speed Round:

They are primarily of Dutch and Welsh decent.

Their parents got together when their mom was fresh out of highschool and their dad was entering the workforce after college. They married and had the girls relatively young, the father being a successful businessman and their mom acting as a house wife.

They go to a private all-girls Catholic school (not because their family is religious, but because it's a good school) and live in Victoria, Canada.

Sammy-

Full name is Samantha Lee Baker.

She's a lesbian (my source is literally "my brain said so" so take that as you will).

She is apart of her high school track-and-field and volleyball team, both of which she excels in far more than flag line.

Although she is not exactly popular, Sammy does maintain a social life with a small group of friends. I imagine them being fellow social rejects and closeted LGBTQ+ kids that all eat lunch in the bandroom together. Amy doesn't like when Sammy has sleepovers but thankfully she has that one no-nonsense friend that isn't afraid to tell Amy to "fuck off".

She doesn't actually have hard time making friends. What she really has a problem with is overthinking about whether people like her or not.

Amy-

Full name is Amanda Rose Baker.

She's flag line captain and takes a lot of pride in it (even though some favoritism was definitely at play. It's the kind of thing everyone knows about but are too scared to speak up on.)

She also does both volleyball and track-and-field with Sammy, but is reluctant to admit to the latter since her sister is better at it. (The two are pretty well matched in the case of volleyball.)

She doesn't actually know what she wants to do with her life and instead defaults to an arrogant "I'm going to do it all" attitude when questioned about it.

She also doesn't have much of a life outside of her extracurricular activities, which is one of the main reasons she takes soo much pride in being flag line captain. Her friendships are primarily shallow as she is abusive to people in general and (naturally) has a hard time maintaining relationships in which she has exposed her true nature.

I'm not giving her a head-cannoned sexuality because I don't like her and I don't care.

What's Next for Ridonculous Race Season 2?

I will be moving this summer, July 16th actually, and getting a full-time job so I am going to be busy. I will try my best to post these as regularly as I can but, as I said in my last TDRR Season 2 post, I am just one person and this project is pretty big. Please be patient with me.

The next team should seem a bit familiar, I have posted concept sketches of them before. One of them is a preexisting canon character but has never competed on TD and may be someone you are not expecting. Regardless, I hope you like them, I think they're going to be very fun to write. :)

If you have ANY suggestions or ideas for this project, please feel free to share them with me. I would love to hear them and if I do end up using you're concepts, I will credit you.

Thank you to the people who have supported this project so far, it means soo much to me! I hope you all have a lovely day!

~Nessa Rose~

[quaranmine]

alright, stats time. numbers! percentages! analysis!

GO ME! i finished my writing challenge last night. though i have done them before, i have never had a 30 day streak--my longest was 11 days, previously.

NANOWRIMO "GOAL": 50k words in a month. lol nope i didn't even plan to do that but that's the perspective i'm putting the post in

MY GOAL: add 30k to IBW.

fail. i added 5.2k to IBW in the end, the equivalent of finishing just one chapter. basically, I completed 17% of my goal. not something I'm happy about but i did inevitably mostly get past a thing that was giving me trouble.

MY SECOND GOAL: add 30k aggregated to any projects

total word count: 21,366. that's techinically a fail but i'm not gonna count it because i reached 70% of my target wordcount AND THAT'S GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME!!! 70 is a passing grade afterall :] if we want to put this in perspective of nano, i basically completed 40% of nano, which is great for a first-ever run (especially since i have never completed a 50k fic so far, let alone in a month. baby steps for me, i just do not write that quickly.)

MY THIRD GOAL: write something every day

SUCCESS! i did do that and i am very proud of it. it was shockingly hard sometimes. during the challenge i was like "i am never doing this again" and now literally less than a day after im like "hm i should do this again next year!" why am i like this? who knows!

So, let's look at other stats.

Number of fics worked on: four. (IBW, grumbot fic mainly, hitchhiker's au, and tumble town gothic)

Fanfic started and completed within the month: do you see no ghosts in me at all? (13,651 words). This means that ~64% of my time was spent on this fanfic, compared to any others (if we go by word count, as i don't remember which days specifically were used on this versus the others)

Average daily wordcount: 712 words. again, to reach the 30k goal i needed roughly 1k on average per day, so this is again about 70% of that. It is worth noting that my average for my last writing challenge in the spring was 548, so I did much better on average this month despite being forced to do it in a much longer streak. that's probably because the 0 wordcount days in the last challenge dragged the average down, so writing every day helped me a lot.

Lowest daily WC: 131

Highest daily WC: 1897

i think both of those were the same fic actually (grumbot fic.) the low wordcounts mostly represented lack of time, as i would stop writing whenever it got so late that i started falling asleep midsentence. however low wordcounts on IBW mostly represent lack of inspiration, except for the day 30, where it represented research.

all in all, i think it was a successful challenge. i'm still in writing mode and was already thinking about what i could do tonight, which is great because like...i am no longer beholden to this challenge but am still wanting to keep going (i'll just likely not force myself to do anything anymore if it's like 11:30pm and i havent done anything. i will just go to bed instead.)

the main lesson here is that i can Do Things when i want to really force myself to do, which is good because i often doubt my own abilities especially in connection with my writing. it's very personal compared to other stuff i do, so i very much love and appreciate everybody's support and kind reviews because i straight up would not be here or doing any of this without you. like i would have just gone back to hide under a rock lol.

i feel like completing these challenges gives me a lot more confidence in myself and my abilities, and gives me momentum to make consistent progress on my works even when things are a little rough. sometimes in writing you just Gotta Do It even if there isnt much inspiration, because it'll unlock the way for other scenes where you DO have inspiration.

now then. if someone can tell me why i was able to fully complete inktober for two years in a row, and pull off two of these writing challenges in one year, but CAN'T stick with actual responsible adult habits--

[someonestolemyshoes]

Hi! Have u done any pregnant Hanji and overprotective daddy Levi already?? Yep i think im craving for more domestic levihan family, im sorry 😭

Im a bit new here in the community, and when i read ur works, i fell in love with it already, thank you for existing!!! 💖💖💖

Hello anon! Thank you so much, I’m so glad you enjoyed my other fics :3 Sorry for the very long wait for this one, I've been struggling to find the time/motivation to write lately, but I'm feeling a little better and I figured I'd get to work on some of my prompts. Starting here!!

It ended up a little less domestic and a touch more angsty than I had originally planned, but only for a moment--happy endings all round! 

Warning: this does start off with non-graphic depictions of nausea/vomiting, I hope that doesn't bother you!

Hange had been feeling unwell for days.

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence—Hange tended to wake up feeling nauseous some days, most often when she'd neglected to eat a decent meal the evening before—but this was the fourth morning in a row now, that Hange found herself bent over the toilet bowl in the early hours of the morning, heaving up nothing but acid and empty air. 

She retched until her stomach ached. There was nothing left to bring up, but her gut still rolled unpleasantly and there was a telling tremor under her tongue that warned her it might be best to stay in the bathroom a little while longer. She settled heavily against the wall to catch her breath.

It didn't make any sense. For most of the day, Hange felt fine. A little tired, maybe, but that was only to be expected after spending half the night every night on the bathroom floor. Tonight, no doubt, would follow the uncomfortably familiar routine: Hange would dry-heave a little longer, until the queasiness abated enough for Levi to convince her to come back to bed, and then she would toss and turn, too warm beneath the bed clothes, until she could fall into a restless sleep. She'd wake up feeling a little groggy, a little bleary, unreasonably hungry, but after a coffee and some breakfast she would feel well again. Perfectly normal.

Like clockwork, Levi appeared in the doorway just as Hange had flopped herself back over the toilet. She felt his palm, cool and soft, press against the back of her neck. Hange gathered her hair back from her face with both hands, braced her elbows on the toilet bowl, letting out a groan of discomfort as her stomach twisted, threatened to revolt again. Levi's thumb rubbed soothingly against her neck.

Sure enough, she brought up nothing more, but she gagged plenty, and found herself gasping for breath by the time she leaned back against Levi, aching and exhausted. His lips pressed into her damp hair.

Levi was as silent as always. His touch was pleasant, his presence welcome. Hange needed the hand he offered to pull her to her feet, needed his reassuring grip at her hips as she brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth out. Her quaking knees felt unstable beneath her. 

He lay facing her after they got into bed. Hange was sprawled out atop the covers, shifting restlessly to find the coolest patches on the bed. Levi watched her for a moment, then said, "This isn't normal."

Hange only grumbled.

"You said you'd book an appointment with the doctor."

Hange grumbled again. Levi ticked his tongue and rolled to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Call tomorrow."

"If I didn't know better," Hange said sluggishly, "I'd say you were worried about me."

He scowled and rolled onto his other side, his back to her now.

"No, just sick of waking up at half four every morning to drag you back to bed."

Hange managed a small, wicked snicker, but shuffled across the space between them and pressed an apologetic kiss to the back of his neck.

"Must be dreadful," she said. Her voice sounded raw, hoarse. She buried her nose into his hair and took a long, deep breath. Levi grunted, but reached back and pulled her arm loosely over his hip. He knotted their fingers together loosely.

"Call them, Hange."

Hange gave his fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"I will."

**

Hange prided herself on being a reasonably intelligent person. She had two degrees, was working towards her doctorate, and already had her name on a small handful of peer-reviewed research papers. She spoke multiple languages, read dissertations for fun, kept a (in Levi’s words) disgustingly realistic human skeleton in a box under the bed for study purposes, and had spent the better part of the last 26 years of her life studying human biology and physiology.  

How she had not predicted that she might be pregnant was almost unfathomable. 

She left the doctors office in a daze with an appointment card and several pamphlets in hand. She had been referred hastily to a midwife and the hospital would soon be sending out a date for an ultrasound—“As soon as possible,” the doctor had said, “since you’re not sure how far along you are.” 

The thing is, Hange had been on the same birth control pill for years now. Forgetful as she may be about many, many things (like eating, and bathing, and washing the dishes and taking out the garbage and and and), Hange was religious in taking that damn pill at the same time every single day. She had never missed it, not even once. Without a regular cycle, Hange had no way of predicting when they had conceived, and the doctor was eager to make sure no essential landmarks in her antenatal care were missed, if they could possibly help it.

The thought had never even crossed her mind. It seemed ridiculous now, in hindsight. The sickness was one thing, but now that she thought about it, there were a whole host of small oddities that Hange could easily attribute to pregnancy. Lethargy, and bloating, heartburn, and she had been peeing more than usual—Hange groaned, and scrubbed her hands over her face. She should have suspected, at least. Should have put the pieces together sooner. 

But, stupid and naive as it may be, she hadn’t thought it possible. Why worry about it, when Hange had taken consistent precautions to avoid it? 

She felt queasy the entire bus ride home. 

It wasn’t that she was against the idea of having children. One day, maybe. When she had finished her doctorate, got herself a steady, well-paid job. When she and Levi had moved out of their tiny, cramped apartment into somewhere bigger, somewhere more suited for a family. 

And god. Levi. 

This was something they’d never really talked about. For his part, Levi never seemed all that interested. He was good with Hange’s nieces and nephews, and Erwin’s son adored him, and he hadn’t showed any express dislike for children, but—well, tolerating other peoples little brats and raising your own are two very different things. 

What if Levi didn’t want the baby? What if he did? Hange wasn’t even sure herself what she wanted to do about the whole situation—what if she didn’t want it? What if, after some reflection, Hange decided now wasn’t a good time? Could they even afford a baby right now? Hange’s money was tied up in her education, while Levi was just making ends meet at the office. They got by well enough with just the two of them, but add in a baby? A whole other person, entirely dependant on them for support? Hange could barely feed and bathe herself, some days, never mind responsibly care for a child. 

By the time the bus pulled up near the house, Hange felt more distressed than ever. Levi, at least, was at work until the evening, so she had a few more hours to herself to mull everything over, but the entire situation made her stomach clench and churn unpleasantly with every new thought. 

The prospect of having a child was terrifying. The prospect of not having this child was nauseating. 

Levi had left the flat in pristine condition when he had left for work, but Hange barely had the energy to feel even a little guilty as she shrugged off her coat and kicked off her shoes, leaving both strewn about the floor. She dumped her bag and made her way sluggishly through to the bedroom. 

Levi had made the bed. The sheet was stretched flat over the mattress, the pillows perfectly fluffed and set against the headboard. Hange’s nightshirt, one of Levi’s old, baggy shirts, too stretched and threadbare for him to wear, had been folded neatly and left on her side of the bed, her slippers lined up smartly with the bed frame. For some reason—hormones, she told herself—her eyes watered, and a lump swelled in her throat. She sniffled pitifully as she stripped off her clothes and pulled on the shirt, clambering into the bed and tugging the sheets until the cocooned around her. 

Hange passed the rest of the day tossing and turning in bed. She tried to nap, but her mind was too restless, occupied with thoughts of the baby, with the concept of having to tell Levi when he came home. She could try to lie, say the doctors had done some blood work, that she was waiting on the results of some test or other, but Levi knew her too well. She could never lie to him, and her despondent state would give her away before she had the chance to say anything. 

The sun was beginning to set by the time she heard Levi’s keys in the door. She felt exhausted, head aching with all the thinking, considering, weighing up her options; with running over every possible outcome she could imagine. Keeping the baby, getting rid of the baby, Levi not wanting the baby, Levi leaving over the baby—every scenario she could imagine was worse than the last. There was only one idea that she had hardly dared entertain, in fear of disappointment if things didn’t work out. 

She heard Levi call out for her, but gave no answer. She listened, curled up in a ball on her side, as he shuffled around, no doubt picking up her coat and shoes from where she had abandoned them. And then he made his way towards the bedroom, steps soft on the plush carpet. The bedroom door creaked open. 

“Hange?” 

She made a small, warbled noise under the bedclothes. Levi came to sit on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His hand found the curve of Hange’s hip. 

“How was it?” 

Hange made another noncommittal sound. She wiped her nose and eyes on the sheets, but didn’t dare show her face just yet. She wasn’t ready. She had never prepared for this conversation, never even imagined it before today. It was too soon. Not enough time to rehearse. 

Levi’s hand moved to her back, rubbing lightly up and down her spine, before dropping to the mattress behind her. He leaned over her, and she felt his lips press warm and gentle to the point of her shoulder. A fresh wave of tears poured over the bridge of her nose and down the side of her face. 

She tried to be quiet, but something—the shake of her shoulder, perhaps, or the shudder of air as she tried to take a steadying breath in—gave way to her crying. Levi moved off the bed, but Hange felt his fingers prying lightly at the sheets, pulling them down until he could get a good look at her face. He was kneeling by the bed now, face level with her, and he looked at her with worry pinching deep creases between his brows. 

“Oi, what’d they say?” 

Hange bit the inside of her lip and rubbed her damp cheek on the pillow. If Levi was bothered by her using their bedding as a tissue, he didn’t show it. He simply looked at her, eyes darting over her face, searching. It occurred to Hange then how this must look to him. She had gone to the doctors due to unexplained, violent sickness, and now she is in bed, hours later, still crying about whatever news she had received. 

“I’m fine,” she said. Levi’s tense shoulders relaxed a fraction, but his face remained pinched, frowning and concerned. Hange wanted to tell him quickly, simply, like ripping off a plaster, but the words would not come. She opened her mouth, but her throat constricted painfully. 

Eventually, she said, “my bag. There’s some stuff in my bag. Have a look.” 

Levi gave her a somewhat quizzical look, but stood, dropping a quick kiss to her temple before going to fetch the bag, and dipping his hand in to fish out the contents inside. 

Hange watched with her breath held and her stomach clenched as Levi pulled out the handful of leaflets and turned them over, looking at each one in turn. His eyes widened fractionally as comprehension dawned on him. His lips pressed into a thin line. Leaden weight settled in Hange’s gut. She curled into a tighter ball, pressing the bedsheets over her mouth and nose, waiting for him to gather himself enough to say something. 

After a moment, he spoke. 

“That’s all?” 

Huh? “Huh?!” 

Hange disentangled her arms from the sheets and sat up, staring at him. Levi moved to sit on the edge of the bed again, a scowl back on his face, though there was an intriguing flush high on his cheeks as he whacked her lightly on the top of the head with the leaflets. 

“Stupid four-eyes,” he said, exasperated. “Crying like that. I thought you were dying.”  

“I’m pregnant.” Hange said the word slowly, carefully, in case Levi had somehow misunderstood. He had the audacity to look at her like she was stupid.

“I can see that.” 

“And you have nothing more to say about it? That’s all?” 

Levi shrugged a little at her. Aside from the small patches of colour in his cheeks, Levi seemed wholly unfazed by the revelation. 

“It’s just a baby. We can handle a baby.” 

“That doesn’t terrify you?” 

Levi scrutinised her for a moment, before he said, “are you scared?” 

“Yes? Yes! How are you so calm? We can’t afford a baby—we don’t have the time for a baby? Where will they going to sleep? We don’t have a spare room. Can we get time off work to take care of a baby? How will we pay for childcare when we can’t be around?” 

“Hange,” Levi said, putting a stop to her rambling. He watched her with a pinched stare. “Do you not want it?” 

Hange had spent the majority of the day mulling over this same question. Staring a family was a huge, life-changing commitment, something that required  careful forethought and planning. They had not had that luxury. Hange was pregnant now. She had doubts and fears, more than she could ever express, but the idea of simply having a baby—of having this baby—wasn’t upsetting. In the small, brief moments she had allowed herself to imagine a future where she and Levi were parents, where they weren’t wanting for money or time, where things were well, she felt happy. Giddy. The prospect was almost exciting. 

“It’s not that,” Hange said earnestly. “I do—I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I—I do want it. But I just—we had no time to prepare. We have no savings, we have no space, I’m a mess. How are we supposed to take care of a tiny person? Babies are hard work, Levi.”

“You’re already hard work.” 

Hange laughed weakly, and wiped at her face again. Levi pressed a kiss to her raw cheek. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he said.

Hange leaned into him, sighing quietly. 

“Is this the kind of thing we can just figure out?” 

Levi hummed, shrugging his shoulder. His fingers skimmed up beneath Hange’s shirt, splaying over the small of her back and pulling her closer. 

“Why not? We’ve done a good job bullshitting our way through everything else.”  

Hange laughed lightly and bumped the side of her head against Levi’s.  

“This is different, Levi. This is a person. A tiny little person who is going to need me and you to do everything for them. What if we can’t do it? What if we mess up?” 

“Hange.” Levi pulled back a little and his hands came up to grip either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. “Stop. I know all that. But if you want the brat, and I want the brat, we’ve got no choice but to get on with it.” 

“I know, I know, but—wait, you want the baby?” 

Levi maintained eye contact with her, but it seemed to take a concentrated effort to do so. The flush of his cheeks deepened a little and his lips quirked at the corners. No doubt to compensate for the show of emotion, he pulled his face into his customary frown. 

“It’s fine,” he said. Hange fought the urge to roll her eyes and caught his hands as he lowered them from her face, pulling them into her lap. 

“Are you saying that because it’s already too late, or do you want to keep it?” 

Levi’s face took on a look of constipated strain. He curled his lip as though in distaste, then hooked a hand around the back of Hange’s neck and pulled her face to his abruptly, smacking a kiss to her lips. He let his forehead settle against hers and stroked his thumb over the hinge of her jaw. 

He fought to keep his tone neutral, but Hange could hear the happy tremor in his voice as he said again, “It’s fine.”

For the first time since hearing the news that day, Hange allowed herself to feel excited. To accept the idea that she and Levi were about to start their own bizarre little family. That Levi was still with her felt incredible enough, but to know that he was pleased—it was more than she could ever have hoped for. Hange gave a wet laugh and kissed him again. 

“Are you allergic to looking happy?” Hange asked as they broke apart. Levi clicked his tongue and pulled back to flick her square between the eyebrows. She laughed a little louder and leaned to wipe her runny nose on his shoulder. Levi muttered under his breath, but didn’t push her away.  

“Okay,” Hange said, after a moment. She sat back and pushed her hair back from her face. “Okay. We’re having a baby, then.” 

Levi’s rubbed the smile from his lips with the back of his hand, nodding. “We’re having a baby.” 

Hange sunk down to flop back over the pillows. Levi looked down at her, head tilted, chewing the inside of his lip. Hange reached up to brush his fringe off his forehead, warmth spilling in her chest when he held her hand close and turned to kiss her palm. 

She smiled a little playfully, and freed a leg from the sheets to dig her toes into his ribs. 

“If I’d known you wanted kids I would have been significantly less stressed, you know.” 

Levi quirked a brow at her. 

“I’ve told you that before.” 

“No, you haven’t.” 

“I have. At your sisters wedding.” 

Hange racked her brain, searching for the conversation. She remembered the occasion, and she remembered that she and Levi had somehow ended up babysitting Hange’s family brood. She remembered Levi, wrestling to keep her youngest nephew on his lap while the eldest, still only five or six at the time, was clambering up the back of his chair, sticky hands tugging at Levi’s collar. Hange fought hard to recall more of what was said, but could remember nothing at all of Levi announcing that he had wanted one of his own. 

“You said these brats aren’t so bad,” Hange said slowly. 

Levi nodded at her. Hange waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, only looked at her like there was nothing more he needed to say. 

“That’s it? That’s your idea of telling me you want kids?” 

“The hell else could I have meant?” 

Hange dug her toe at him again but Levi caught her foot this time, pushing it firmly down onto the mattress. Hange reached for him with both arms instead, curling them around the back of his neck and tugging him down quickly. He toppled over her with a quiet oof, and Hange rolled them quickly, straddling his waist and dropping her weight down onto him. 

“That is the kind of thing you say clearly, Levi! These brats aren’t so bad—you’re ridiculous!” 

Levi wrestled with her arms a little longer before giving up and bringing his hands instead to rest low on her hips. He watched her with a curious expression on his face, something open and soft, and then his eyes roved down to her abdomen and his thumbs brushed inwards, beneath the hem of her shirt, stroking over her lower belly. 

This time, he didn’t fight his smile. 

He reached up and pulled her down by the neck, and kissed her soundly. Hange melted against him, welcomed the press of his tongue between her lips, shuddered pleasantly when he nipped at her bottom lip. She went with him willingly as he rolled them both over, nudging a knee between her legs and settling his weight against her. 

She was spreading her legs to make space for him, when he paused suddenly, and pulled back, leaning over the bed and scooping through the discarded back of leaflets. Hange, winded and dishevelled, watched him incredulously as he flicked through the contents of one, then tossed it aside and opened another. 

“What are you doing?” 

Without looking up, Levi replied, “Checking.” 

“Checking what?” 

“I wanna know if we can still—” he waved a hand between them, and went back to searching. 

“We’ve been—” Hange mimicked his gesture, “—up until now anyway.” 

Levi looked up at her, looking mildly horrified. He held up one his open leaflet and said, “You’ve been drinking alcohol, too. You’re not supposed to do that. And look, here—you’re not supposed to overwork. You’ll have to take on less hours at the university. And you’ll eat. Proper damn meals. Every day.” 

Hange flopped back against the pillows, eyes rolling, watching as Levi picked up each new leaflet in turn, pointing out every little adjustment that Hange would have to make. 

“This one says you should get eight to ten hours sleep per night. Every night. And not so much coffee, the caffeine’s bad for the baby.” 

The baby. It sounded surreal. It sounded ridiculous. Levi shifted to sit against the headboard beside her after opening the chunky little What to Expect While Expecting volume Hange had been handed while leaving the doctors. He seemed thoroughly engrossed, and seemingly unaware when one of his hands reached out to pull Hange’s hair free of its ponytail and sink into her hair. She hummed happily as his nails scraped over her scalp. 

Things were still scary, and Hange was still uncertain about how this whole adventure might turn out. But Levi was still with her, and Levi was happy, and that—

—Well, that was good enough. 

[wizkiddx]

I would for sure read a continuation of the birth photographer fic if you feel comfortable writing it/have time! Xx

a/n sorry I kinda combined these two together, I hope this is okay!! sorry ive taken so long too!! my requests are still open, just going a bit slowly :)

summary: literally just birth + harry

dad!tom x reader

warnings: childbirth, mentions of fainting, squint for suggestiveness too

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Your doing so good darling, just keep breathin’ like that for me, in-out-in-out”

That had pretty much been the soundtrack to your last 3 hours. And yes it was MORE annoying than it sounds. Of course, that’s also ignoring the insane amount of pain your uterus was putting you through - as it spasmed while the little bug in there was wriggling away. Giving birth was not easy but giving birth with a husband-turned-midwife wittering away in your ear? Un-fucking-bearable. 

“Tom…. I love you but..” Everything had really been starting to ramp up in the last half an hour, you were a panting sweaty mess now. “Please… SHUT THE FUCK UP” Tom would’ve recoiled completely away from the bed because of your tone, if it wasn’t for the absolute death grip you had his right hand in. Instead,  Tom settled for straightening straight up and staring helplessly and dejectedly across the room at his brother - who of course was trying to hold back laughter, knowing it would be very easy for you to switch your target to him. 

Clearly it wasn’t a social call to the hospital, Harry was here under the premise of taking photos when the baby arrives for Tom;  but really to stop his brother from having his own breakdown - as commissioned by you. Lets just say, however scared and mortified Harry was of this ‘event’ he was taking a lot of enjoyment from how his brother was acting currently. 

“It’s okay sir, if you were pushing a watermelon out of hole that normally was the size of a whiteboard marker, I’m sure you’d be a bit tetchy too.” That lady was your favourite midwife and in a lull between the sets of contractions, you actually managed a laugh. Wide-eyed, Tom just nodded jerkily, murmuring some sort of agreement. It was at this point a flash of light reverberated around the whole room, causing you to breathlessly laugh, Harry’s face informing you the picture he just got of Tom was priceless. 

The laughter didn’t last long though, the next contraction had you bearing down on the bed, face contorted in pain as you sucked desperately on the gas and air tube. 

“Okay Y/n I think we might be getting there, let me call the senior midwifes in okay?” The midwife had your legs hiked apart, a blanket attempting to cover your modesty - but at this point she was basically sticking her face in your noon. Modesty was out the window. 

“Already?” Tom was shocked to say the least, from all his reading and research he’d learnt that the average labour time was more like 5 hours. Lets just say, Tom never exceled in school, never much enjoyed reading - which made the hours of highlighting baby books and pregnancy leaflets all the more extraordinary. 

“Babies don’t stick to the script sir.” You could tell she was proud of the pun there, because you know, Tom’s a moviestar. “Professional improvisers, the lot of them.” 

The cream walls of the hospital room very quickly filled with more and more people - Harry staying like a fly on the wall, now nervously biting his nails as he watched an obscene amount of medical people all take their turn oggling his sister-in-law’s bits. This was a weird ass situation. 

Almost immediately it was at the point the midwifes were telling you to push, which after 9 months of holding a baby in (as well as your ill functioning bladder) sounded like an absolute dream. But it was also absolutely terrifying and exciting and horrifying all wrapped in one. Naturally then, after nodding hesitantly at the midwife between your legs, you’d craned your neck across to tom .You might’ve just told him off, for trying to encourage you, but now? You needed his encouragement. 

What met you though, was his face completely drained of colour, mouth hanging slightly open as he hadn’t moved - still staring intently at the midwife. She followed your gaze, only taking half a second to survey the situation before knowingly smiling. 

“Can we get a bit of help for dad please?” Immediately one of the more junior looking midwives was directing (pushing) Tom into the chair next to the floor. Suddenly actually concerned, you looked with wide eyes to the lady between your legs, who you felt bad for not remembering her name. With a comforting squeeze of your ankle she reassured you he’d be right as rain after a few moments of having his head between his knees. Also sensing you needed your support, she arched up, beckoning over to Harry who had an equally bemused look on his face. 

“No - I-um I’m not.” His squeaking protests were interrupted by a large scream on your part, as another contraction tore through your body. Helplessly Harry glanced between Tom, who was still hunched over on a chair with a nurse squatted infront of him; and you, writhing around on the mechanical bed. He didn’t hesitate then, in jumping right to your side, allowing you to start crushing all the bones in his hand too. 

And then it was all happening, a blur of activity and screams. It didnt take long for Tom to pull himself together and then you were flanked on both sides by Holland boys - both giving cheesy encouraging words (which you would’ve again told them to shut the fuck up for, if you’d been able to), Tom also stroking the top of your head. He found it pretty impossible, watching the woman that he loved go through such immense pain - especially when he was technically half the cause. Well… actually more that that, it had been him who had been… well shall we say *needy* those nine months ago. 

“Okay Y/n the heads crowning, I know you’re tired but we need a few more big pushes, can you do that for me?” 

Merely 5 minutes later and the most beautiful sound in the world echoed through the 4 creams walls. You were absolutely spent, eyes closed as you panted, knowing tears were flooding down your face too. Immediately though, familiar hands cupped both sides of your face, a forehead resting on yours. 

“You did it Y/n/n.” His eyes were glassy, watering and red and the way he scoffed a smile in disbelief had you mirroring him exactly.

“We did it.” Your voice was hoarse and scratchy from all the yells of pain but it didnt matter. The midwife calling you by the name ‘mum and dad’ got both of your attention, a title you’d no doubt start getting used to. 

“Meet your beautiful baby girl.” Another choked sob escaped your throat, as  this little roughly wrapped up pink alien looking thing was placed onto your chest. Both you and Tom just gazed at her, completely transfixed at the way she wriggled her head slightly, nuzzling into your chest. Tom gently hovered his palm against her little head, while you pressed down the blanket gently, just so you could see all her features. 

Then a flash echoed around the otherwise silent room, making you all look up to Harry who was gritting his teeth in apology. “Do mum and dad want to smile for the camera?” The question was posed so hesitantly and quietly, really it wasn’t funny either. That didn’t stop you and Tom both pulling out the biggest grins and chuckling away, allowing Harry to capture the perfect moment. Being referred to as mum and dad - it was bloody comical. 

“You gonna tell me her name now?”  You looked from Harry to Tom, nodding in approval for him to spill the beans. 

“Amber. She’s Amber.”

You’d squabbled for months before ending on Amber. It had been a long relentless process, Tom claiming that your baby might just have ended up as ‘as yet untitled’ which you and your hormonal state had stormed out at. It hadn’t taken much to forgive it though, Tom had long since worked out that Ben and Jerrys was the way to your heart. 

The nurses took Amber back to do some tests, properly cleaning both you and her up and after that everything was weirdly calm. Harry had left to give the twothree of you a moment alone and Tom was about to do his turn of skin to skin. 

“This really is it isn’t it?” He murmured, whilst carefully scooping Amber from your arms. 

“Mhmmm… your stuck with two girls who’ll go psycho on you without a moments notice.” He seemed to accept it though, just nodding in response. 

“And I still can’t bloody wait.” His eyes penetrating deep into you, had you blushing like a nervous teenage girl. “ ‘m still so proud of you, you grew this little human.”

“Your not allowed to call her little because you didnt have the ‘little’ thing rip your insides apart.”

“Hey! I’m upset about it too! Was like I had to watch my favourite pub being burnt down.” Of course, trust Tom to make a dirty joke at a time like this.

“Don’t kid yourself, you weren’t watching, too busy fainting.”

“I didn’t actually faint!” This time he protested a bit too loudly, causing Amber to mewl a little and bury her head into the crook of her Dads arm. “I think Ambers just told you to shut it too.”

“You annoy the hell out of…” Your grumbling was interrupted by an impressive, ear-splitting yawn. “ You annoy the hell out of me.”

“But you love me?” He sing-songed, now back to a hushed tone. 

“I hope so, otherwise we’re in a bit of trouble.” He scoffed, but nodded his head, taking the hand that wasn’t cradling Amber to tuck some sweaty, knotted strands of hair behind your ear. 

“I do owe Harry though, he was at least able to stay on his feet.”

“He was a better birthing partner than you too, much much less condescending and annoying.” You sniggered, making Tom pout once again, only wiping the look off his face when you yawned again, rubbing an your eye like a toddler would. 

“If your done insulting me… get some rest love, I got you.” All you did was nod, with a small groan (because below your waist still hurt like a bitch) rolled over so you could fall asleep to sight of the two of them. 

“Got you both, my two beautiful girls.”

hope you enjoyed, would love to hear any thoughts <3

taglist: @hollandfanficlove @hallecarey1

[elamarth-calmagol]

What actually is LACE? (an informal essay)

What’s LACE?

Laws and Customs among the Eldar, or LACE, is the most popular section of the History of Middle Earth books.  It's available online as a PDF here: http://faculty.smu.edu/bwheeler/tolkien/online_reader/T-LawsandCustoms.pdf .  There’s a lot of LACE analysis in the fandom, Silmarillion smut fics are usually labeled “LACE compliant” or “not LACE compliant”, and I’ve been seeing the document itself show up in actual fics, meaning that the characters themselves are discussing it.

LACE is an unfinished, non-canonical essay split into several parts.  It covers the sexuality of elves, which is mostly what people talk about.  It also covers elvish naming (which I want to make a whole different post about), the speed at which elves grow up, changes that happen throughout their lives, their death and rebirth, and finally the legal and moral issues of Finwe remarrying after Miriel’s death.  The discussion about rebirth conflicts with Tolkien’s later writings about Glorfindel’s re-embodiment, but to the best of my knowledge, LACE is the best or only source for most of the topics it covers.

However, LACE is not canon since it doesn’t show up in the Silmarillion.  Counting all of the History of Middle Earth as canon is literally impossible, considering Tolkien contradicts himself all over the place.  It is only useful because it has so much information that is never discussed in the actual canon.  Many people consider it canon out of convenience.

Another important thing to remember is that, other than presumably the discussion of the growth of elvish children, the information is only supposed to apply to the Eldar (meaning the Vanyar, Noldor, Teleri, and Sindar) and not the dark-elves such as the Silvan elves and Avari.

The rest is behind the cut to avoid clogging your feeds.

Problems with LACE interpretations

But because it’s hidden in the History of Middle Earth (volume 10, Morgoth’s Ring), barely anyone actually gets the opportunity to read it.  I don’t think most people are aware that you can get it online, so it doesn't get read much.

I feel like this leads to a handful of people saying something about LACE and everyone else going along with it.  I definitely did this.  I was amazed by all the things that were in the actual essay that nobody had ever told me about, or had told me incorrectly.  For example, most people seem to believe that elves become married at the completion of sexual intercourse (whatever that means to the fic author).  In fact, LACE explicitly says that elves must take an oath using the name of Eru in order to be legally married.  Specifically: 

It was the act of bodily union that achieved marriage, and after which the indissoluble bond was complete… [I]t was at all times lawful for any of the Eldar, being both unwed, to marry thus of free consent one to another without ceremony or witness (save blessings exchanged and the naming of the Name); and the union so joined was alike indissoluble.

I’ve seen a marriage oath being included in a few stories recently, but most writers leave out the oath entirely and just have sex be automatically equivalent to marriage.  What would happen if elves had sex without swearing an oath?  I don’t know, but I’d love to see it explored.

Then there’s a footnote that might explicitly deny the existence of transgender elves... or not, but I’ve literally only seen it mentioned once or twice.  Overall, I feel like all of LACE is filtered through the handful of people who read it, and we’re missing out on a lot of metanalysis and interpretations that we could have because most fans never see the actual document.

Who wrote LACE?

I mean within the mythology of Middle Earth, of course.  Since LACE appears in the History of Middle Earth and not the Silmarillion, we can be pretty sure that J.R.R. Tolkien himself wrote it and it wasn’t added to by Christopher Tolkien.  But that’s not the question here.  Remember that Tolkien’s frame narrative for all of his Middle Earth work is that he is a scholar of ancient times and is translating documents from Westron and Sindarin for modern audiences to read and understand.  The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings come from the Red Book of Westmarch, and I believe The Silmarillion is meant to be Tolkien’s own writings based on his research (though it might also be an adaption of Bilbo’s “Translations from the Elvish”, but I haven't looked into that).  So what does LACE come from?

Christopher Tolkien admits in his notes that he doesn’t know.  He says, “It is clear in any case that this is presented as the work, not of one of the Eldar, but of a Man,” and I agree, because of the way it seems to be written as an ethnographic study rather than by someone who lives in the culture.  Honestly, it talks too much about how elves are seen by Men (e.g. speculating that elf-children might look like the children of Men) to be written by an elf.  This changes once it gets to the Doom of Finwe and Miriel, but that could be, and probably is, a story told to the writer by an elf who was there at the time.

Tolkien actually references Aelfwine in the second version of the text.  The original story behind The Lost Tales, which was the abandoned first version of the Silmarillion, was that a man from the Viking period named Aelfwine/Eriol stumbled onto the Straight Road and found himself on Tol Eressea.  He spoke to the elves and brought back their stories to England with him.  So it makes a lot of sense that Aelfwine would also write about the lives and customs of the elves for an audience of his own people.

Does LACE exist in Middle Earth?

I keep finding fics where first age elves discuss “the Laws and Customs” openly, as if it’s a text in their own world.  I usually get the impression that it was brought by the Noldor from Valinor.  But did the document actually exist in that time period?  For me, the answer is definitely not.

First of all, LACE was probably written by a Man, meaning it could not have dated back to Valinor in the years of the Trees, because Men hadn’t awaked yet.  In fact, the closest thing to an established frame narrative for it is that it was written by Aelfwine, who comes from the time period around 1000 CE (though Tolkien doesn’t seem to have pinned him down).  This is at least the fifth age, if not later.

But what if you don’t believe that it was written by a Man?  It still couldn’t have been written in the First Age, because it discusses the way the relationship between elves’ bodies and souls changes as ages go by.  For example:

As ages passed the dominance of their fear ever increased, ‘consuming’ their bodies... The end of this process is their ‘fading’, as Men have called it.

A lot of time has to go by in order for elves to get to the point of fading.  As a bonus, here’s another reference to the perspective of Men. LACE also discusses the dangers that “houseless feas”, which are souls of elves who do not go to Mandos after their bodies died, pose to Men.  How would they have known about that in the First Age?  It further says that “more than one rebirth is seldom recorded” (which isn’t contradicted anywhere I know of), and that’s not something you would know during your life of joy in Valinor, where almost nobody dies.  That’s something you learn after millennia of war.  This has to be a document written well after the Silmarillion ends.

So what about the sex part?  That’s all we care about, right?  Well, it is entirely possible that this was written down by the elves and Aelfwine translated it (though my impression is that he mostly recorded stories told orally to him and that elves were not very much into writing, at least in Valinor where you could get stories directly from someone who experienced them).  However, why would the elves write this down?  They know how quickly their children grow up.  They’ve seen actual marriages.  They don’t need that described to them.  And if they did have a specific document or story explaining the expectations of them when it comes to sex and marriage, why would they call it “Laws and Customs”?  That’s a very strange name for a set of rules for conduct.  I’m sure they had a list of laws written out somewhere in great detail, like our own state or national laws (that seems very in character for the Noldor, at least).  But I seriously doubt that those laws are what we’ve been given to read. LACE is not an elvish or Valinoran document.

Is LACE prescriptive or descriptive?

Here’s the other big question I’m interested in.  Prescriptive means that the document describes the way people should behave.  Descriptive means that it describes how people do behave.  And the more I worldbuild for Middle Earth and the culture of elves, the more I want to say that LACE is prescriptive in its discussion of sex, marriage, and gender roles.

But wait.  I’ve been saying for paragraphs that I think LACE is Aelfwine or another Man’s ethnographic study of elvish culture.  Then it has to be descriptive, right?

Does it?  How long do we think Aelfwine stayed with the elves?  Did he wait fifty years to see a child grow up?  Did he get to witness a wedding ceremony?  Did he meet houseless fea?  I don’t think he could have done all of that.  Maybe a different Man who spent his entire life with the elves could, but then when was this written?  When the elves were still marrying and having children in Middle Earth or when so much time had gone by that they had begun to fade already?

Whoever wrote this was told a lot of information by elves instead of experiencing it firsthand, the same way he heard the stories from the First Age from the elves instead of being there.  Maybe it was one elf who talked to him, maybe several different ones.  But did those elves accurately describe their society the way it was, give him the easiest description, or explain the way it was supposed to be?  If I was describing modern-day America, would I discuss premarital sex or just our dating and marriage customs?  Maybe people would come away from a talk with me thinking that moving in together equated to marriage for Americans in the early 21st century.  And I don’t even have an agenda to show America in a certain way, I'm just bad at explaining.  Did the elves talking to what may have been the first Man they had seen in millennia have an agenda in the way they presented themselves?

Or did the writer himself have an agenda?  Imagine going to see these beautiful, mythical, perfect beings, and you find out that they behave in the same immoral ways Men do.  Do you want to share the truth back home?  Or do you leave out things that don't match your worldview? Did Aelfwine come back wanting to tell people what elves were really like?  Or did he want to say “this is how you can be holy and perfect like an elf”?

Anyone studying the Age of Exploration will tell you that Europeans neber wrote about new cultures objectively, and often things were made up to fit the writer’s idea of what savages looked like. For example, my Native American history teacher in college told a story of how explorers described one tribe who (sensibly) didn't wear clothes as cannibals, because cannibalism and going around naked went together in their minds and not because of any actual incident.  Unbiased scholarship barely existed yet. Even Tolkien was extremely biased and tended to be imperialistic, as we all know.  There’s absolutely no reason to think that Aelfwine wasn’t biased in his own way.  (Of course, now we have to consider what biases a Danish or English man from the centuries around 1000 would have when it comes to things like gender roles. I assume he would have been more into divorce and female warriors than the elves are said to be.)

But is that what Tolkien intended? Probably not. He probably wanted LACE to be descriptive. But he also never got much of a chance to analyse the essay after the fact, which might have led to him discussing its accuracy and even the exact issues I just pointed out about explorers. Anyway, we know he's biased, and honestly, what he intended has never slowed down the fandom before.

Conclusion

In short, I take LACE to be a prescriptive document describing the way elvish culture is supposed to be, not a blueprint I have to stick to in order to correctly portray elves.  I also don’t believe the document that’s available for us to read existed even in the early Fourth Age, where The Lord of the Rings leaves off.  There maybe have been some document outlining the moral behavior of elves, as a set of laws, but thats not the Laws and Customs we have.

Of course, canon is up to you to interpret.  If you want Feanor discussing LACE with someone back in Valinor, go ahead.  If you want to throw out LACE entirely, go ahead.  It’s not even a canonical essay.  All of this analysis is honestly useless when you consider the fact that no part of LACE exists in any canonical book.

But that’s Tolkien analysis for you.

[lostinfantasyworlds]

UTNL is COMPLETE!!

SO MANY thoughts and feelings about finally completing Under the Northern Lights under the cut! 

This is going to be ridiculously long, and sappy, and extra (shocker, I know). I don’t actually expect anyone to read all of this, but I had to get out all of my feelings somewhere. 

I can’t believe I can finally mark this fic as ‘Complete,’ almost a full year after I first had the idea pop into my mind. This story was a first for me in a lot of ways. My first multi-chapter, first AU, first to reach the length of a novel. It’s weird because I feel like a lot of the time, the first works you create when new to a particular medium are ones that you end up looking back on with a bit of cringe later on when you’ve had much more practice with said medium.

But I don’t think I’ll ever write another story that means as much to me as this one does. 

I hadn’t written creatively (besides back in grade school) or published fanfiction until November 2020, only about 4 months before I published the first chapter of UTNL. Because I could tell that this story was going to extra special to me, I debated waiting to share it until I had more experience with writing, but I’m glad I didn’t let that hold me back. 

There are certainly some things, especially in the early chapters, that I already look back on and cringe over a little (which I will be working on touching up over the next couple months). But overall, I think of this story as my “masterpiece” so to speak, and feel like it always will hold a special place in my heart. I honestly don’t think it’s possible for me to pour any more love, dedication and obsession into a story as I did for this one. 

I thought about this version of Inuyasha and Kagome SO much that it is probably unhealthy. I spent countless hours researching, plotting, and putting myself in their shoes when writing each line. I felt the emotions in this story as if they were my own, trying to make it as authentic as possible while staying true to the essence of the characters. 

But for as proud as I am of this story, I’ve also had SO much self doubt. I tend to get in my own head a lot, and am insanely self-critical on top of my unparalleled ability to overthink EVERYTHING. Honestly, there were a lot of times when working on this story almost felt like torture, despite how much I truly love it, just because of how neurotic I tend to get when putting my creative work out there. 

The comments and general outpouring of love helped get me through that more than I can say, and there aren’t enough ways for me to say THANK YOU to everyone who ever even gave this story a chance. I have been floored by some of the comments I’ve received, and feel incredibly lucky that this story managed to connect with others.

But of course, I can’t talk about UTNL without dedicating at least a full paragraph to Jane ( @goshinote​ ). When I say that this story wouldn’t be what it is without her, I truly mean that. We had only been talking for a little less than two months when I first pitched her the idea of UTNL, and she immediately became its biggest fan. From helping me brainstorm plot ideas (and directly suggesting all kinds of things that became part of the final story), to reading over every single chapter multiple times and leaving the best comments/screams on Google docs, to listening to every single song on the UTNL playlists and telling me her thoughts on each one, to just generally showing interest and encouraging me every few days during the entire time that I was writing it. 

I will admit that I am a needy ho who needs all kinds of reassurance and praise to prevent myself from falling into a spiral of self-doubt and anxiety, and Jane was like the constant cheerleader I needed to actually get this monster of a story out into the world. Our friendship grew along with the story, and now I can honestly say that she is one of my best friends, including my “in real life” friends. 

So thank you times infinity, Jane, for all of your love and support and encouragement, and for being such an amazing friend. This story is dedicated to you for a reason ❤️🖤

Now, back to the writing itself...

I never thought that I would write a 200k word novel when I started writing fanfiction. My first several stories were all canon-based one shots. I remember reading fics over 100k for the first time shortly before starting UTNL, and being in total awe that someone could write a fic that was as long and intricate as novels such as the Harry Potter books. Like…what???

And then the fact that I ended up writing a story longer than The Fellowship of the Ring (which is just under 188k) is just…….what even??? How??!?

I am genuinely so proud of this accomplishment, no matter how many things I know I could have done better etc.

2021 wasn’t a great year. Like many others, I’ve been struggling quite a bit with my mental health throughout this pandemic, and depression has really been kicking my ass for the last couple of years in a way that I’ve never dealt with before (my previous mental health struggles were all with severe anxiety, not so much depression). So writing UTNL has also been kind of a saving grace for me, giving me an outlet to focus my creative energy into, and something to be excited about when everything else felt so overwhelmingly shitty. 

But of course, the core motivation behind this story is my undying love for InuKag as a ship. I’ve never loved another fictional couple as deeply as I love them, and that’s saying something, considering I’ve been totally balls deep into other ships/fandoms before. The layers of trust and love and intimacy and even sexual tension that RT managed to create between these two characters is something I could explore endlessly, and will continue to explore in my writing in the future. 

With UTNL, I wanted to write a story that covered ALL of the bases. Starting with the intense chemistry and sexual tension between them, because I am a totally shameless heathen at this point. Half of the chapters of UTNL have explicit sexual content, and I have to say that I had a lot of fun writing all of it 😏. But possibly even more fun, was building up all of that tension before anything even happened, making it almost unbearable so that the moment they finally got to act on it would feel that much more intense (hence the explosion metaphor...and the boom). 

But probably an even more important element that I had in mind from the beginning is the angst. My favorite type of angst is the bittersweet type: the gut-wrenching ache that comes with loving someone and losing them, letting them go because you know you have to, even though it shatters your heart into a million pieces. That was central to the entire idea of the story, where I wanted to create a finite timeline from the get go. The challenge was getting them close enough during that one month together for them to fall in love so deeply that it would be heartbreaking and devastating to let each other go. Chapter 13 (The Last Time) will always be my favorite chapter, and my favorite thing I’ve ever written, for that reason. 

But lastly, it’s really all comes down to the love. For a good portion of the story, it’s mainly about the attraction and the amazing sex. But once the romance sets in, I wanted it to run deep. By the end, I wanted to really capture that all-consuming, born-for-each-other type of love that InuKag shares, just in a modern setting. And that’s why the epilogue is my other favorite chapter, as far as content goes.

It was fun to play around with this version of Inuyasha and Kagome, where Inuyasha is about twice the age (mentally) of his canon self, and was raised by his mother, making him a little bit softer and more emotionally mature than he is in canon. Kagome has the same kindness and stubbornness, with a little extra ambition and creativity and wittiness thrown in, just for fun. 

Honestly...I could probably write another small novel about my process of writing UTNL, along with how much thought went into every word, all of the scenes I imagined in my head, how my own background in photography informed many parts of the story, etc...but I have to stop rambling at some point...so I guess I will cut myself off here. 

All I can say at this point is that it has been an honor to share this story that means so so much to me, and to receive so much love and positive feedback in return. So many comments I’ve received have just blown me away, left me speechless or in tears because of how much others loved this story the way I do. So thank you all from the bottom of my heart, for your support and love, even if you haven’t read the story, or it wasn’t your thing. I’m just so happy that Under the Northern Lights made even one other person feel something in the way I intended. 

Now excuse me while I go cry...and then finally relax. I will be taking a small semi-hiatus from writing for a few weeks or so, mostly so that I can focus on catching up with all of the reading I’ve been ignoring in favor of writing this. But I’ll definitely be back at it sooner rather than later, because I have several stories I’ve been dying to share!

If you’ve actually read this far, holy shit I’m sorry for rambling so much, but also kudos to you and thank you thank you thank you times a million.

I’m so happy I found this fandom, and the outlet of writing. 

LOVE YOU ALL ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

[the-pale-goddess]

Ethan & Tiffany: Endgame (HC)

A quick reminder: I've rejected canon Third Year completely, so mind that none of OHTY bs happens in my E&T canon timeline.

A/N: I tried my best to write every major fact down - hopefully the final product isn’t too messy or too boring, I’m new to the headcanon business and this isn’t even written in the headcanon form because I’m a rebel lol

Huge thanks to the lovely Anon who requested this HC and every single one of you still interested in E&T’s shenanigans, your support is the greatest gift I could ever receive! If you have some more specific questions about these two, feel free to hit my askbox anytime 💕

Now let’s check what’s in store for Tiffany and Ethan!

Children

Neither of them planned children in their lives; they were perfectly comfortable in the relationship they had—living together, advancing their glittering careers while supporting each other, slaying the game as the ultimate power couple.

But life has its ways, of course, and a week prior to their third anniversary Tiffany found out she was pregnant. The news sparked blind panic in the 30-year-old doctor; she thought her whole world fell like dominoes. Tiffany wouldn't intentionally start a family: she'd just started turning her dreams and plans into reality and she didn't even consider herself fit to be a mother (even though deep down she craved it).

She'd spent an entire week full of doubts, listing all her options, before she finally shared the news with Ethan. His reaction was surprisingly calm, considering his stance on having children. Based on the evidence gathered throughout the week, he'd already suspected pregnancy and did some calculations on his own.

They both agreed it wasn’t the best time—their busy schedules didn’t allow them to even reconsider the concept of starting a family. Nevertheless, the baby was coming, and their hearts filled with strange excitement. Having a baby on board seemed surreal at first, but after the dust had settled they felt oddly content about the unforseen circumstances.

E&T's world turned upside down the second their son was born. Raising a child happened to be the greatest challenge these two brilliant doctors had encountered. Luckily, they both relish a good challenge. Guided by the unexpected overflow of affection, they quickly settled into the alien routine of parenthood.

Nathaniel Jonah (also known as NJ, Nate) turned out to be a perfect blend of his parents' most prominent features & traits: Ethan's ocean eyes and stubbornness mixed with Tiffany's smile and warm heart.

Three years later, another surprise awaited. The most shocking thing about the second pregnancy was that it didn't happen sooner (they'd been exceptionally careless). Nicolette „Letty”, a spitting image of her mother, stole Ethan's heart from the start, bringing even more joy to their controlled chaos.

The fancy condo was too small for a family of four, so The Ramdams were forced to find a new home. They moved to a dreamy house in the Boston suburbs merely a month before their daughter was born.

The third one (for a change) received a proper invitation to this world. Tiffany wasn't the biggest fan of the idea of having another baby, but her window was closing (she was 38) and Ethan's palpable excitement tipped the scales. Everyone jokes Aine must be adopted because she's the most unproblematic angel, unlike her parents.

The family wouldn't be full without pets: Nettie (British Shorthair cat) & Hopper (English bulldog).

Marriage

Marriage was never on their agenda. Neither of them felt the need to make their relationship formal, it wouldn't change anything between them—they were already acting like a married couple. Both Tiffany and Ethan think there are more valuable symbols of love than some paper signed in the presence of everyone they know. Partnership they were in seemed like the most comfortable and obvious choice.

The topic resurfaced with the pregnancy news. Our good guy Ethan, our Mr Must-Do-What’s-Right, proposed to Tiffany on their third anniversary dinner, right after they discovered they were expecting. He did it because it made sense. Because it was convenient. Because it was a decent thing to do.

But guess what...Tiffany rejected the proposal. She didn’t want to marry out of obligation. If they were really going to jump into marriage, she wanted it to matter. Ethan understood her point of view, though it didn't stop him from jokingly annoying her on every given occasion that she rejected him.

He waited two years before popping the question again. This time she said yes.

Dr. Grumpsey was willing to agree on a lavish wedding if Tiffany would insist. Lucky for him, his woman hates big, conventional weddings and all that unnecessary attention around the reception. They're both very private people, so they planned the wedding they were actually excited about.

They eloped to Miami where it all started, exchanging vows to the accompaniment of the ocean waves, with little NJ by their side. The wedding reception was just three people enjoying their day at the beach.

As you may suspect, their friends and family flew into a rage when they found out the wedding took place behind their backs. Jackie's death threats were particularly disturbing, so E&T decided to throw an afterparty for their loved ones only.

Career

Tiffany saw her future in diagnostics and followed that path, balancing her personal goals with striving for improvement in patient care. The word about her accomplishments with one of the best diagnostics teams spread fast; shortly after her challenging yet successful residency, Doctor Addams quickly proved to be one of the most valuable and respected diagnosticians—not only at Edenbrook, but also statewide, and later nationwide. She cracked some of the toughest, most hopeless cases, saving lives of many patients considered lost causes.

During her first pregnancy, her career was already on high speed and the situation made her even more determined to keep it that way. She didn't want to sacrifice her newly established position and Ethan did everything he could to support her and her career development.

She remained a vital part of Edenbrook's Diagnostics Team under Ethan's leadership for a few years. Their minds combined gave spectacular results and above it all they truly enjoyed working together. However, when Letty was born sharing responsibilities at home and managing the time got significantly harder. With minimal hesitation, Ethan decided it was his cue to leave.

He'd been thinking about the change for much longer than he was willing to admit: over the years he'd accomplished everything he could dream of and Edenbrook had become more of a duty than a challenge. So he quit, leaving the team in the most capable hands of Doctor Addams-Ramsey.

For a year and a half The Ethan Ramsey was a stay-at-home dad, juggling family, research for his second book and setting up his clinic with none other than Tobias Carrick.

Ethan wasn't 100% convinced if starting the practice with Tobias would be a wise move, but the clinic exceeded his expectations. Apart from the great sense of accomplishment, he finally gained full independence at work. And there were no bloody interns to babysit anymore.

When little Ramdams got older, he approached Tiffany with a job offer; the best diagnostician in the country was the last missing link in his clinic. She let it marinate for a few years and accepted the offer at the launch of her second book, soon after Letty's 18th birthday.

____

If there’s a typo or a mistake somewhere...No, there isn’t kgjdkgjdk

Thanks for reading 🥰 I have a few exciting fics in the making (both AUs & canon) and I hope I’ll be able to finish them soon!

[qianinterprises]

WayV Reaction: finding out their S/O has Borderline Personality Disorder

Pairing(s): WayV x Reader Genre: angst, fluff Warnings: mention of mental health, depression, anxiety, symptom's included in BPD. Trigger Warnings: depression, anxiety, hostility, mention's of self-harm, self-doubt, low self-image Word Count: 3.9k

Author's Notes: I'll be honest and say that I had to research Borderline Personality Disorder. I knew what it was/had heard of it before, but in order to write something accurate, I tried to educate myself. If you believe that you have BPD, please don't be afraid to go to a doctor or a trusted friend/family member. Your mental health is important.

Author's Note 2.0: I also want to mention that (as per earlier request), I am also working on a YangYang fic that features a reader with Borderline Personality Disorder. I'm not entirely sure when it will be posted (soon hopefully), but it is in my WIP's.

Author's Note 2.0: Kun's is a little different, I apologize for the difference and the shortness. Tagging:@treasuretaeil

Kun:

Kun was in the middle of dance practice when his phone began to ring. At first, he let it go to voicemail, but by the third ring, Ten paused the music and Kun grabbed his phone out of his coat pocket, expecting to see your name popping up on the screen. You were at home today after a particularly rough week at work that had left you feeling spent. Kun longed to be home with you, holding you tight in his embrace. As his eyes met your next door neighbor's name on his phone screen, his stomach dropped. Mrs. Huang only called when it was really serious. "Hello?" he asked into the receiver. "Oh thank goodness!" she cried, voice laced with anxiety enducing agitation. "What's wrong?" "It's (y/n)! They've brought me five big tins of muffins! I can't possibly eat all of these! And they've gone to the store twice with ingredients! I think something's wrong! Kun sighed. This morning, you had been so happy. You were practically singing to the birds. He knew it wouldn't last though, especially with the week you'd had. "I'll be there soon!" Kun left practice without another word and when he got home, he found you in the kitchen, covered in flour, vigorously mixing a creamy liquid in one of your metal mixing bowls. The kitchen was covered in ingredients; flour puffed on the counters and floor, broken egg shells on the table, a half empty measuring cup of milk teetering on top of the fridge. It was bad this time. Kun knew you had borderline personality disorder. It had been something you'd told him in the beginnings of your relationship. He had seen you at your worst, and at your best, but it still broke his heart every time he witnessed you at a breaking point. "(y/n)?" You paused in your vigorous mixing, eyes glancing up to meet his. He didn't say anything, eyes locked on yours, but his eyes held no pity. Instead, they held pure, unfiltered love that had you putting the whisk aside. "Do you love me?" you whispered. A small wisp of a smile reflected across his face as he crossed the room, arms wrapping around your body. "More than anything," he whispered.

Ten:

You and Ten had only been together for a short amount of time; three months to be exact. It was an exhilarating three months. Time you wouldn't give for anything in the world, even though you didn't get to see each other often with Ten's very busy schedule. However, after the "Kick Back" album released, WayV was allowed to take a break as SM turned their attention to the scheduled release of NCT Dream's first album. Normally, Ten would then be whisked away for some SuperM promotion, but with Baekhyun's enlistment, SuperM was also allowed to take a break as the company decided what to do. Which ultimately meant you got to spend more time with your boyfriend, which, most would deem as a good thing and, you were happy he was there, however, it became a lot harder to hide your little secret from him. Your best friend, Kun, had introduced you to Ten (and the rest of the members), when Kun officially became a member of NCT. Kun and Ten had immediately hit it off as friends, which meant you also spent a lot of time with Ten, thus leading to a blossoming friendship and later attraction. So Ten lying in your bed snoring softly wasn't that far of a stretch from a common day encounter. The difference was, today, you didn't feel like yourself. Being in a friendship with Ten meant that, yes, you saw him often, but not often enough that you couldn't keep parts of yourself private. Which is exactly what you did, especially as your tiny crush on Ten grew into something mutual, eventually leading to a relationship. The truth you were so afraid of revealing was your disorder. Borderline Personality Disorder. A disorder you'd been diagnosed with since you were a your teenager. You'd been teased and bullied for it when a classmate you'd once called a friend announced your disorder to the entire school. This, in turn, had terrified you of ever telling anyone, which you had gotten away with. Ten didn't know and, if you had it your way, he'd never know. He was an idol. What did he need with a girlfriend with this disorder. However, with him hanging around a lot... "Hey? What's wrong?" Ten's voice snapped you from your thoughts. You'd been so distracted you hadn't realized his soft snoring had ceased. "Nothing," you said softly. His lips pursed, perplexed as he softly reached a hand up to brush across your cheek, something he'd done several times. But today, you didn't want it. You shied away from his hand, curling yourself up on the opposite side of the bed, cursing yourself for acting different than usual, but you couldn't help it. Ten didn't bat an eye. He simply gave you a soft smile and sat up in the large bed, but he didn't try to touch you again. "Feeling sad today?" he asked. You nodded meekly. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked. You paused for a moment to think it over. You truly didn't. You wished you could keep it a secret forever, because Ten might leave you. But you also knew that the stress was taking it's toll on you. "I have Borderline Personality Disorder..." you whispered. He didn't say anything at first and you were preparing yourself for him to call you a freak and leave. Instead, he stretched his arm out and softly wrapped his pinky around yours. "I don't know much about it. But I promise I will learn," he whispered. Tears brimmed your eyes because finally, someone wasn't going to leave you.

WinWin:

You had never been much of a touchy person. Holding hands was one thing, and even then, something you weren't wholly comfortable with, but hugging was completely different. You didn't care much for hugs, especially from complete strangers that often found you rude for rejecting their hug. You barely even hugged your own family, let alone a total stranger. This was possibly what spurred on your relationship with Sicheng who, also didn't care much for physical affection, despite the fact the other members of NCT practically drowned him in it. Your relationship was just... different. At least in the minds of society because you didn't cuddle against Sicheng's chest constantly or plop down on his lap just because he was sitting down. Instead, you preferred wrapping your pinky around his or draping one of his sweaters over your shoulders. This worked for the two of you though others found it strange. However, there was an anomaly that Sicheng, though you had been together for a little over two years, had no idea about. This anomaly included the fact that sometimes, you liked hugs. Sometimes, all you wanted to do was drape yourself over your boyfriends lap and let him hold you until your mind screamed at you for the overload of affection. Sometimes you wanted him to wrap his arms around you in bed and fall asleep with you on his chest. That's what happens when you have Borderline Personality Disorder, and it wouldn't have been that big of a deal if Sicheng had known, but he didn't. It started out you longing to keep it a secret in the early days of your relationship. It wasn't something you advertised very often. However, as your relationship progressed, you knew you should have told him, but as five months turned into six, it became a crushing weight of guilt for not telling him in the beginning. Sicheng had already invested a lot of time and love in the relationship when you had not been wholly honest with him. And the more time that passed, the harder it was for you to get the words out. At this point, it wasn't even your fear of rejection because of the disorder, it was a nagging fear that your dishonesty about the disorder would drive him away from you. That would truly be a crushing point. However, as Sicheng began spending more nights at your apartment, it was getting increasingly harder to hide, especially as your mood dropped or when you suddenly began to crave affection. Times like today. The moment you'd rolled out of bed, you knew you needed some type of affection, but as Sicheng made no advance to give it to you throughout the day, your mood dropped. It really wasn't his fault. He had no idea how you were feeling, but as you finally had had enough and wrapped your arms around him from behind while he was washing the dishes after dinner, you felt him stiffen before grabbing a towel to dry his hands. "What's up with you today?" The question was an honest one, but it still felt as though you were making him uncomfortable by touching him. As your arms slacked from around him, a tear sprang to your eye but you were quick to wipe it away as he turned to face you. "I need to tell you something..." Your voice was wavering. You had no idea how he would respond. He nodded for you to continue, one of his hands gently taking hold of yours, playing with your fingers as a soft sense of relief washed through you. "I have Borderline Personality Disorder." His once blank face morphed into one of confusion. "What's that?" he asked tentatively. You sighed. You had been expecting the question but that didn't make it any easier to define. "Its like having mood swings. One day I feel happy the other sad... Sometimes anti-hugs, sometimes super affectionate." You could tell he was still confused, but as he nodded and wrapped his arms around your body, drawing you against his tall frame, you let out a shuddered breath, body relaxing against him.

Lucas:

Books were never Yukhei's strong suit. He preferred numbers and basic information plotted out clearly in front of him. Books were too all over the place with too much information. He wished they could be like websites that gave him the briefest of explanations with a "read more" feature. Yet here he was, flipping through slightly crinkled pages because he wanted to truly understand, and books were always credited with having the most information. "I have Borderline Personality Disorder," you had explained earlier that day when you had ducked out of the way of one of his mega bear hugs and proceeded to slump your shoulders and beg him to give you time alone. You'd locked yourself in your shared bedroom after that and, although you had texted him to apologize for your behavior, you added that today was just an off day, your disorder really affecting your mood. "Well how can I help?" he had asked. It was your response that prompted him here, pouring over books in the local library hoping to find anything that would help him understand Borderline Personality Disorder in the best way possible. As he flipped through pages and learned, he had begun to feel several different emotions. On one end, he felt sorry that you'd had to go through the disorder alone, but on the other, he questioned why you'd never told him, even after a year of being together. However, a big part of him wondered if maybe you had been telling him, just without words, especially because you'd never tried to hide any of your mood swings. He'd just always assumed you were on your period. As the hours ticked away, Yukhei's eyes remained glued to the startlingly dry books stacked up around him, but as he learned more about the disorder and, by default, more about you, he couldn't seem to stop. At least not until his phone vibrated in his pocket and, as he fished it out, your smiling face met his eyes. He answered the facetime request and gave you a tired smile that quickly morphed into concern when he noticed your bloodshot eyes. "Baby? What's wrong? Did something happen?" "My boyfriend left me! That's what happened!" Were you... pouting? "I didn't leave baby, I'm at the library." Confusion flashed across your face. "Why?" "To learn more about Borderline Personality Disorder." A giggle erupted from your lips and Yukhei sure was glad to hear it, especially after reading texts about BPD leading to depression. "Why didn't you just google it?" His mouth gaped open as he dramatically clutched his chest. "Googling something so important in my significant other's life?! That's scandalous! I should do enough research to write my own 20-page essay!" This time, it was a full blown laugh. "You're a dork!" "I'm your dork!" "Well come home, dork! There's a lot we have to discuss!" Your smiling face alleviated any fears that may have been swirling around Yukhei's chest. With a nod, he slammed a book shut so hard it send a loud, slamming bang throughout the library, prompting nasty looks sent his way. Sheepishly, he waved them off and stood up. "I'll be home soon," he promised, blowing you a kiss before hanging up. Yukhei had taken the hastily thrown news a lot better than you'd expected. You knew he couldn't have learned everything, specifically because it varied person to person, but you knew that he would be there for you, even on your bad days. And that was all you could ask for.

Xiaojun:

Dejun was incredibly perceptive, even if he was incredibly dumb sometimes. He could tell when you weren't quite feeling yourself, even though he often didn't know what was causing it. It was at those times that he did everything he could to put a smile back on your face and make you feel "normal" again. He didn't understand how counter productive that actually was. It was really your fault. You were the one keeping secrets, but as the smile fell from your face the second Dejun traded the couch for the shower, you couldn't help but think that maybe he simply preferred you to be happy rather than deal with you when you weren't. Somewhere in the back of your head, you knew he was just doing what he thought would help, but now, especially in your state of mind, you couldn't shake the aching feeling in your head. "Hey, are there towels- are you crying?" Dejun's voice yanked you out of your thoughts and you brought your hands to your cheeks, rapidly trying to wipe away the clear droplets painting your face, but it was too late. Dejun had already seen. He was shirtless when he perched on the couch beside you, face etched in concern. He opened his mouth, likely to retort off some lame dad joke or tell you some funny story you'd heard a thousand times. "Can you not?" You hadn't meant to snap. The words had simply flown out before you'd had the chance to them. His face fell into a pout that you knew you often fell for, but today, it only upset you more. "Stop Dejun!" The pout fell away. "Stop what? I'm not doing anything!" "You're trying to make me smile!" He blinked, staring at you for a moment. "That's a bad thing?!" You sighed, slumping against the couch cushions, resigning yourself to the fact that he didn't understand. Then again, you didn't let him understand. "Just tell me why I'm upsetting you," he begged, all traces of bad humor gone, replaced with sincerity. "I have Borderline Personality Disorder! My mood fluctuates! And when you try to make me smile when I'm sad or mad makes me feel like you don't like me when I'm not always happy. But I can't always be happy." He stared at you in shock for a moment, mouth opening and closing as if he didn't know how to respond. An appropriate response, you supposed. You'd been friends for a while now and dating for several months, yet this was the first time you'd told him. You were about to get up from the couch, sighing as he didn't respond after several minutes, when he placed a hand on your thigh to stop you. "Why didn't you tell me?" You shrugged. It wasn't that simple. "Can you tell me the best ways to comfort you?" Again, you shrugged. A sigh released from his mouth and your head hung low. "I'm going to do some research. As your boyfriend, I want to make sure I'm making you feel better, not worse. So, while I'm doing that, I also need you to tell me if something I'm doing is making you feel worse. Can you do that for me?" His words were sincere, his intentions true. Another tear fell from your eye, dropping against your cheek, but a smile broke out across your face. "Thank you for caring," you whispered. He pulled you onto his lap and pressed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. "Always."

Hendery:

Waking up this morning had been such a struggle, even as the delightful scent of your boyfriends cooking wafted under the cracks of the door, greeting you. Usually, this would rouse you from your slumber, prompting you to creep into the kitchen and sneak a taste of the delightful breakfast. Today, however, you rolled over in the blankets and pulled the duvet over your head. Today was a lay in bed day, you just hoped your boyfriend would accept that. "Come on sleepy head! It's time to wake up!" Kunhang's annoyingly chipper voice spouted, pulling you from the confines of sleep in a less pleasant way. "No," you groaned, rolling over, burying your face deeper into the pillow. "Come on! Breakfast is ready!" He pulled the blankets off your body and you let out a loud hiss, eyes turning to bore into him. "I said no!" He dropped the blanket and backed off, lifting his hands in surrender, but you could tell he had questions. You never acted like this. "What's wrong?" You grunted, not responding, turning away from him, but he wasn't having it. "Yah! I asked you a question!" he pouted at being ignored. A growl whipped it's way from your throat. "Go look up BPD," you snapped. You could tell that he had more questions, but, after a long moment, he seemed to think better of asking them and, instead, made his way out of the room, leaving you to fall back asleep. It had to have been a few hours later when you were waking up on your own this time, the anger you had felt earlier completely gone now, replaced with your normal, chipper self. You turned over to look at Kunhang's side, releasing he wasn't there and the memories came flooding back to you along with a strong wave of guilt. You shouldn't have treated Kunhang the way you did. There was nothing out of the ordinary with the way he'd reacted to your sleeping for. With a sigh, you threw your legs over the side of the bed and stood up, padding over the floors to the door. You made your way out of the bedroom and down the hall, finding Kunhang sitting on the couch, television with the volume turned down, playing some movie he didn't look too interested in. As the floor creaked slightly under your feet, his attention shifted from the television to you and he was quick to shut off the device. "How are you feeling?" he asked. Your heart dropped into your stomach. Had you really affected him? "I'm sorry for how I reacted..." you mumbled. A sigh rolled past his lips as he patted the couch next to him. You made your way to him, flopping beside him, but keeping your distance, at least until he pulled you against his side. "I understand why you did after looking up Borderinel Personality Disorder," he said. "But you couldn't have expected me to know without knowing." With a nod, you hung your head. "Why didn't you tell me?" "I thought you wouldn't like me if you knew I had a disorder..." you mumbled. Saying it out loud, it felt ridiculous. You knew he loved you. The fact that he waited for you to wake up even after how you'd treated him proved that. But it had been a fear nevertheless. "Now that I know, I can help you rather than making things worse. But in the future, please let me know. I hated watching you so upset without knowing how to help." You leaned against him, burying your face in his chest as you nodded.

YangYang:

(full fic coming soon) YangYang's youth was what truly scared you the most. He still had so much to learn. He was so naive, about some things at least. He could make you feel so good, so loved, when he'd hold you in his arms and kiss your head or when he threw himself across your lap and begged to be pet. You were scared that the second he knew the truth about you, he'd leave, or worse, treat you differently. Your older brother, Kun, had advised you to just be honest with him. To let him know when you had bad days. Yet, here you were, hiding out in your brothers bed, hoping practice would run late so YangYang wouldn't see your crestfallen face. It seemed luck wasn't on your side that day, not entirely anyway, because the door to the room opened and Kun walked in half shirtless, belt unbuckled. "Please don't strip anymore," you'd begged. The boy nearly jumped out of his skin at your words. "(y/n)?! What are you doing here?!" "I missed Yang..." "So why didn't you come to practice? You know you're welcome." Your silence was his answer and he sighed, sliding on another, not sweat-soaked shirt, and sat on the bed beside you, reaching out to gently stroke your arm. "You really should tell him," he whispered. "But what if he rejects me?" "He won't. Sis, I know him. He's not like some dirtbags you've dated in the past. And he might just be able to help you better than I can," he whispered. You knew he was right. He was always right (as annoying as it was). "Will you send him here? I don't want to get out of bed..." "Of course," he said, patting your arm one more time before getting out of bed and making his way out of the room. It was a few minutes later when a sweaty YangYang walked in, searching for your figure before sitting down beside you on Kun's bed. "You wanted to see me?" he asked. "I have Borderline Personality Disorder..." The words just rushed out before you could stop them, but you were thankful. This saved you from yourself. For a long moment, YangYang didn't say anything and you were beginning to think Kun had been wrong for once. "So that's why Kun had me do all that research..." Ok, that definitely wasn't what you were expecting. "Not long after we started dating, Kun made me do all this research on BPD. He even quizzed me once a week! I just assumed it was punishment for dating his sister!" A loud laugh fell past your lips. That was absolutely something Kun would do!

"Are you mad I didn't tell you?" you asked.

"Well, why didn't you?"

"I was afraid you'd leave me like my exes..."

"Then yes, I'm mad!" he said.

Your face dropped.

"I'm sorry..."

"I'll just have to teach you a lesson!"

With that, he threw himself on top of you, pressing his sweaty clothes against you as you shrieked, attempting to get away.

"Guys... not on my bed..."

[amiechuchu]

Magic, Mayhem, and All Things In Between

Chapter 3: Background of the Study

[A/N: finally some y/n and loki development. soft loki moments. i am once again back with the self-indulgent fic and i hope you enjoy :’)]

other chapters can be found here

Weeks had passed since you had accepted Mr. Stark’s small favor. Weeks had passed since you began spending the majority of your time with the Asgardian brothers and dear Uncle Bruce. Though the days were filled with chatter, the late nights in the lab were quite the opposite. With only the low hum of machines to keep you company, you realized how lonely it can be. It was unlike the times you spent in the hospital, where you’d be surrounded by fellow doctors, nurses, and patients even at the dead of night. Despite how these late night duties meshed with early mornings, dulling your own sense of time, you didn’t mind it because of the company that you had. Research work, on the other hand, was a different story. Despite your years of experience, the burnout and loneliness that accompanied research work slowly made its way to the deepest parts of your brain.

“Hey,” a voice said as a hand waved in front of you, snapping you out of the trance you were in. It was Loki. “Are you okay, pet? You look rather dead.” The God held up a cup of freshly brewed coffee and passed it on to you.

“I’m fine,” came your quick reply as you received the cup from him, your hands nudging his slightly, “thank you for the coffee by the way.” You gave Loki a weak smile before beginning to sip from the warm cup of comfort that was given to you.

The lack of reaction was unusual. How many times has Loki seen you flustered with just the tiniest forms of physical touch? Probably every single time. Confused, he grabbed a chair and set it down beside you. “Are all you Midgardians always so dishonest about what you feel?” There was that usual bite in his manner of speaking. Though, no matter how hard he tried to hide it in his cold demeanor, he could feel the concern dripping from the words he uttered; the loneliness he saw in your eyes hit too close to home. Did he get too close? Maybe showing that he cared was a mistake.

Keeping your eyes on the warm mug, you hummed in reply, refusing to answer a clear yes. Your eyes glanced up at the God beside you, longing to understand why he’d even bother. Clearly, you were oblivious to any form of care or concern Loki has shown. It wasn’t as if you had your guard up, rather you were quite unfamiliar with the intimacies of talking about your own feelings. Although the question he asked was clearly rhetorical, you still wondered: Do Asgardians not repress their own feelings to prevent them from getting distracted from things that truly matter?

Green orbs stared at yours, noticing the ever darkening bags under your eyes. “I was just concerned,” Loki began, voice softening. The God looked away and focused on the variety of glassware set up on the table adjacent to them, “it has been a while since you’ve left the laboratory. You didn’t even sneak out to the medical wing for a little breather.”

You raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. How could he have noticed all that? How could he have cared at all? After all, you were just a lowly Midgardian, as he put it, and he was a God, a deity, someone with power and importance. “How did you-”

“It pains me that you put me on the same level as them, little doctor,” the God interjected as he faced you once more, “out of all the weeks we’ve spent in this laboratory, you really believed I wouldn’t have noticed.” He noticed the closeness of your proximity; his form inches away from yours, yet your mind was elsewhere. 

“In my defense, everyone else I’ve met in this tower described you as a narcissistic asshole and a war criminal,” you shrugged, “so, naturally, I didn't think you would care at all about my well-being.” You took a sip from your cup, and indulged in the buzz the caffeine began to give you. “But I don’t think you’re as bad as they make you out to be. They just didn’t think of the whole story. Just took out a portion of it. It was unfair - what they did to you. It felt as if you always had the short end of the stick.”

Silence. 

Now, it was your turn to shock your Asgardian companion. Being on the other end of empathy was foreign to Loki as everyone treated him quite harshly. He grew up in the shadow of Thor, the more loveable sibling, and, as much as he wanted to show off his capabilities, that he was just as worthy as Thor, Loki was left in the darkness, to wallow in promises unkept, to wallow in dreams broken, to wallow in his own great tragedy. 

Eyes feeling heavy, You turned your head towards Loki, waiting for a response; though you were a naturally perceptive person, the look on his face was filled with emotions you couldn’t make out. Was he mad? Did you say too much? That analysis was unwarranted, of course he’d be mad. Embarrassed, you looked down on your cup of coffee once more, “I apologize if I said anything out of line. There are just too many things in my mind right now. I don’t think I was able to filter my thoughts very well.”

“Pray tell, dear doctor. What are you thinking of?” Loki replied, deciding to change the course of their conversation. With brows slightly raised and his gaze set at your exhausted form, you felt the God studying you, attempting to break down the essence of what makes the little physician tick. 

Deciding to be a smartass, you replied, “like I said, many things.” You set down your cup of coffee on the table and crossed your arms. “Why do you ask, Loki? These past few weeks you’ve been awfully helpful to the point that Uncle says it’s weird and unlikely for you to do that just for a human. I appreciate it though, but I just don’t see why you should go out of your way to listen to me.”

“Your words wound me, doctor,” Loki chuckled, emerald eyes piercing yours, “can I not be concerned? I see years worth of loneliness and unfulfilled expectations in your eyes to the point that you can’t even deny it. I’m sure you understand what isolation and over independence can do.” Your eyes softened, glistening under the incandescent lights. You were cracking slowly, and the God knew this. He knew what you were seeking: comfort, validation, a shoulder to cry on. It was clear as day.

“Well, I could see all the walls you’ve built. You know everything about everybody, but barely anyone knows anything about you,” you attempted to reply proudly; however, your words were breathy, already beginning to shake. So much for an attempted bark. Embarrassed, you looked away defensively, not taking another moment under his perceptive gaze. It felt as if all the skeletons you’ve kept inside your closet were being showcased all of a sudden, and you hated every second of it. Your stomach churned as your defenses slowly came undone; it wouldn’t take a while now for you to start oversharing, possibly even crying your eyes out. His hand tenderly reached out to the edge of your chin and tilted it towards him. It was warm, soothing. Comforting.

“I could say the same to you, darling. You act as if you don’t build walls around you, yet you keep everyone else at arms reach. I know what loneliness and distrust does to people, and I also know that you shouldn’t hold yourself accountable for all these expectations.” There was a slight pang in Loki’s chest as he said all these truths. He too bore wounds invisible to the eye. He too carried scars from the past. These emotions were far too familiar to the raven-haired God much like old friends, and he was afraid that, by reading these off your face, he’d become attached somehow, mended together by a mutual understanding of each other’s pain. What would become of his plan then? His glorious purpose?

Looking up to him, you realized how small you were, how fragile, how easy it was for him to see through your façade. It was oddly nice to have someone who had a grasp on your inner demons, albeit without consent. You felt a connection in the making.

 Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to trust him.

 *

Days have passed since the God of Mischief and the doctor have shared a portion of the thoughts they hid away in the darkest parts of their head. It was needless to say that the two now had an unspoken connection, a commiseration of loneliness, self-doubt, and crushing expectations. Often, they’d find their gazes focused on one another, with smiles shared and laughter exchanged. Other times, a helping hand would linger longer than usual atop the other’s. A gentle squeeze or the light encircling of one’s thumb, a sign of care and concern; these gestures only happened when the two were alone, knowing that dear Uncle Bruce would be highly against it. However, it wouldn’t be long before the others noticed.

You were grateful that today was a relatively slow day in the laboratory. Majority of the specimens that were scheduled for today’s tests were finished earlier than usual along with the case presentations and progress reports Mr. Stark had asked you to make. Though it seemed like such a small feat, you took it positively; today, you could finally take a breather. You hummed happily as you began arranging the mountain of paperwork around the main table.

Upon reaching for the next pile of papers, a familiar hand laid atop of yours. You smiled and looked at your raven-haired companion, admiring the way his tousled locks framed his oh-so ethereal face. 

“Do you need help, my dear doctor?” Loki asked as his thumb drew circles on your hand. Though his silvery voice tugged at your heartstrings as they always did, your cheeks were slightly tinged a light shade of red at mention of the pet name. The God never called you his doctor before.

“I can manage,” you replied as you turned your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You kept your gaze on your hands intertwined with his, the way they fit together so perfectly. “It’s surprisingly not as busy today.”

Loki leaned down, his face close behind your neck. “A bit bold today aren’t we, pet?” he jested, breath tickling the side of your ear.

Thor observed the scene from afar, shocked. He never thought that his brother would’ve established a bond with the doctor, not in the way that Loki didn’t deserve any type of social interaction, but in the way that his brother wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. With arms crossed, the God of Thunder continued to watch as the two continued on with their intimacies, wondering when and how this managed to start. He watched the way your eyes lingered on his brother attentively; the way you were able to tug a smile on Loki’s face; the way his face lit up when you were around; the way your gentle touch was able to open a different side of Loki. 

Though he was wary of his brother and his antics, Thor disregarded his suspicions: the two of you were much too happy occupied in your bubble of… friendship? No, it was more than that. So much more. Something was blossoming, and the God of Thunder was sure of it. He was unsure of the status of you and Loki’s relationship, but nevertheless he was still happy. However, he wasn’t so sure if your uncle would be so accepting of it, knowing the bad blood between what had happened in New York.

The doors of the laboratory swept open, startling the two friends. Thor coughed loudly to alert his brother and the doctor, but it was already too late for them to fall back to a more believably platonic position. Out came Mr. Stark and Uncle Bruce from the elevators, both shocked at the closeness of you and Loki. Tony looked more curious than shocked at the development. Your uncle, on the other hand, radiated a crushing aura, and, although Uncle Bruce’s face seemed calm and collected at the moment, you knew very well that there was anger hidden underneath it. He always warned you about Loki and the danger he could bring if you got involved, so it was no surprise to you if his anger came from both concern and disappointment. 

Awkward air filled the room as the two made their way towards the laboratory’s main table. Loki stepped back away from you, whispering something along the lines of you being okay. You nodded in affirmation then looked down, averting any type of eye contact, and started to fiddle with the sheets of paper you had in hand. 

Sighing, you knew it was taboo to speak of the laboratory’s peace out loud since it always brought bad luck. Now, you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.

taglist: @gaycatlord-stuff​  @aces-tattooartist​ 

[thewritewolf]

No, Really

Summary: Adrien can no longer deny it - he is in love with Marinette! The only problem is, she has made it absolutely clear that she is definitely not interested in him. But when he discovers that Marinette might be harboring feelings for Chat Noir, Adrien decides that there is only one way to get together with her: Reveal his identity.

Trouble is? She doesn't believe him.

Hello and welcome! This fic was written for the @totographszine, which was publish for free here. Go check it out, the wonderful @anna-scribbles even did some excellent art of this fic in there.

Read on Ao3

Without any further ado... Enjoy!

Adrien was in love with Marinette. There was no getting around that any more. But, unfortunately, it didn’t seem that she felt the same way.

Ever since he had come to terms with his feelings, he’d been trying to flirt with her. A few cheesy lines here. Some lingering touches and eye contact there. Compliments scattered throughout the day. Although, as he had realized now, it was harder to compliment her more than he already had been. How had it taken him so long to figure out his feelings?

The worst part of it was that she even flirted back! Which may sound great, but his experiences with Ladybug had taught him that flirting back could also mean friendly banter. It was a frustratingly similar experience, which he chose not to dwell on too hard.

And just like with Ladybug, he was at least appreciating the friendship that he could share with Marinette. Now that she had begun to open up to him, he was learning all sorts of things about her. Her favorite foods, what exactly tickled her most, her little mannerisms.

One day he learned the most important little fact about Marinette of them all.

“What is it with you and crushin’ on celebs, girl?”

Adrien recognized Alya’s voice at once and his eyes widened when he realized who she was likely talking to on the other side of the locker.

Sure enough, Marinette let out an irritated groan. There was a sound of a locker opening.

“What makes you think I have a crush on him? Just because I drew him in my notebook—”

“Oh sure, if you were just drawing him, that’d be one thing. But the hearts and kissy faces tell a whole different story.”

Adrien stood stock-still, listening as intently as he could. It felt as if his heart had

stopped beating. Had he failed to win the hearts of both his crushes? Would he ever get a lucky break just for once?

“They weren’t—that’s—no! Those were …” Marinette sputtered and eventually mumbled something that sounded a lot like “spades.”

“Spades.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, girl, if you want I could probably mention your name the next time I see him. Sure it’d be harder to pull off than with blondie, but I’m down.”

“Drop it, Alya,” Marinette said half-heartedly. The locker door was shut and they walked toward the entrance. For a moment, he was scared they would turn around and see him eavesdropping. “I’m sure Chat Noir doesn’t want to have my number pushed into his hand.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he suddenly jolted to life. Chat Noir?

“Maybe. We’ll only find out if we give it a shot.” Their voices got more distant as they walked away. “At least we know you’ve got a type now.”

“Alya!”

In his heart of hearts, Adrien hoped that type included boys with green eyes and blond hair. Would it be too much to ask that she fall for him a second time? Not just as Chat Noir but as Adrien?

It was there, standing alone in the locker room, heart pounding in his throat and feeling light headed, that Adrien was suddenly struck by a plan. And while he was no Ladybug, he was pretty confident about this one.

After all, he didn’t need to make her fall for him twice. She just needed to find out who Chat Noir was.

--------------

His first opportunity took way too long to arrive. The need to confess his secret identity to her had been weighed against his duty not only to Paris but to Ladybug. He was as certain of Marinette’s trustworthiness as he could be, but he needed to be sure that she and only she heard him.

Besides, it made confessing his feelings a little easier too, which was honestly weighing just as heavily on his mind. Sure, safety of Paris and fighting Hawkmoth and all that, but there was also his poor battered heart to take into consideration. Ladybug had been gentle with her rejections, but they still stung as much as being tossed into a wall by a dozen akumas.

It took over a month for a golden opportunity. The four of them had been studying in Marinette’s room when Alya had left to go babysit her sisters, taking Nino along with her. Adrien watched them slowly pack up and amble over to the trap door, silently screaming every time they stopped for another little chat. But eventually, they did leave. Nino’s cap disappeared below the floor and the trapdoor shut behind them. It was late enough that Sabine and Tom had gone to bed already, but not so late that Adrien would have to leave yet, at least not for a couple hours.

Swallowing against the suddenly dryness in his throat, Adrien looked at Marinette. All thoughts of the physics homework in front of them banished the moment he saw her tongue poking out the side of her mouth, her brow furrowed in concentration.

How could one person be so cute?

Her bright blue eyes flickered up at him. “Something wrong, Adrien?”

There wasn’t going to be a better time. It was now or never.

“Marinette … I’m Chat Noir.”

The sound of her pencil scratching along the paper stopped as she stared at her homework. There was a long moment of silence wherein Adrien silently panicked. After a few seconds that stretched into infinity, which Adrien spent praying that she would say something, anything, she finally spoke.

“Yeah, okay.”

She said it with a snort and a chuckle. It was like when he was experimenting with different jokes for her and he found one that didn’t quite land but didn’t completely fall flat.

She returned back to her homework, and the sound of the pencil resumed.

“Okay? That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Um … I suppose I can add a ‘haha’ in there too? If it makes you feel better?”

“You’re not supposed to laugh!”

“Then it’s not a very good joke.”

“It isn’t a joke,” Adrien said, crossing his arms haughtily. This was not going how he had planned in the slightest.

Marinette raised an eyebrow as she sat up. “There is no way you are Chat Noir.”

“Why not? I’m cool!”

“Exactly, and Chat Noir is a massive dweeb.”

Adrien gasped, scandalized. “Take that back!”

“I will not. Besides,” she continued, raising her hand, “there are plenty of things Chat Noir is that you aren’t and vice versa.” She raised a finger for each point. “Chat Noir is loud, outgoing, with a sharp tongue, and he’s a flirt to boot. Plus the whole massive dweeb thing.”

“And what about me?” Adrien pouted, almost dreading the answer. “Adrien Agreste me, I should say.”

“You’re quieter, to start with.” There was a faint blush on her cheeks. Maybe it was easier for her to describe someone who she thought wasn’t present. “You’re considerate and kind and a perfect gentleman.” She smirked and chuckled. “At least, you usually are.”

Adrien put his hands together and brought them next to his lips as he took a deep breath. He was suddenly reminded of all the times he’d made reservations or tried to set up an account on some website under his own name, only to have it deleted because it “couldn’t possibly be actually Adrien Agreste.” By this point in his initial planning stages of confessing to Marinette, they were already organizing their first date between passionate spells of making out, not trying to determine if he really was himself.

But Adrien was nothing if not adaptable.

With a wide, toothy grin worthy of his alter ego, he leaned forward, putting himself dangerously close to her face. The faint blush she’d been sporting flared to life and spread across her entire face. Her eyes went large as he purred out a reply.

“What an unfortunate alley cat I am, baring my soul to a beautiful princess and she doesn’t even believe me. Whatever shall I do?”

“W-wow, you’ve … you’ve really practiced this, h-haven’t you?” She put on a brave face and scooted backwards.

“You could say that. You could also say I’ve got a lot of experience with the whole Chat Noir flare.” The smile became more genuine as he added teasingly, “And it looks like you think Chat Noir might be more than just a massive dweeb, hmm?”

“Y-yeah?” She got back some of her composure—not much, but enough to start bantering back at him. “And what else is he then?”

“A cool cat, maybe,” he said, tossing his hair and running a hand through it. “Or, even better, a fine feline.” He grinned and finger gunned at her.

Marinette snorted. “You’ve definitely nailed down some of that Chat Noir full-of-yourself stuff. Congrats on getting your research done at least.”

“Not research. Just living the life, Pigtails.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Very creative nickname.” She smirked and crossed her arms. “Then again, it’s better than princess or my lady, so I’ll take it.”

“Hey now, Ladybug likes me calling her that, even if she tries to hide it.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Somehow I doubt that. But seriously, whose idea was this? It feels like Alya had a hand in this. I just know it.”

“Why would Alya get me to try to tell you I’m Chat Noir?”

“She never gives up on her ships is all.” Marinette’s eyes went wide and she threw her hands over her mouth. “Forget I said that!”

“But I—”

Her hands went straight for his mouth. “Forget!”

He held his hands up in surrender and she backed off.

“Come on, though. What’s so hard to believe about me being Chat Noir?”

“I just can’t see you and Chat Noir being the same person. You’re both so different!”

“Okay, first off—yeah, I can be quiet sometimes,” Adrien admitted. “But you’ve seen how I am with my friends, when I’m comfortable. I can be just as outgoing as I am in the mask!”

Marinette massaged her temples. “So what, you’re saying you have to be with close friends to be as confident as you are making terrible puns in front of all of Paris?”

“Well, the mask helps a little,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “After all, then I don’t have to think about how what I say will impact the company or get yelled at by my father. I get to just … be wild.” He gave her a timid smile. “I suppose sometimes I go a little overboard, huh?”

Her blush deepened. “Y-yeah. I guess you do sometimes.” She cleared her throat and schooled her expression back into a skeptical one. “Assuming you are Chat Noir, of course.”

“Of course.” Quietly, he added, “You know, Adrien me isn’t the only one who is ... kind. I’ve done it plenty of times in the mask.”

“I mean, yeah, you do the heroics and everything, but I was talking about something—”

“Gentler?” he said with his best Chat Noir grin, which made her eyes widen like saucers. His voice was still barely above a whisper. “Like when I comfort akuma victims or sponsor animal shelters?”

“I—yes, like that,” she admitted in the same soft tone. A little stronger, she poked his chest and gave a small smirk. “But don’t you think Ladybug will be mad that you revealed your identity? You promised not to do that, you know. Assuming you really are Chat Noir.”

“Maybe I should have asked her about it first,” he admitted, even as something tickled at the back of his mind. How did she know about the promises between them? “But I’m sure she’d understand if she knew. The value of love is something we both agree on.”

“I mean, I guess, but—wait, what?”

“And I suppose you’ve noticed how, no matter what side of the mask I’m on, I love to flirt with the person I love?” She gasped, but he just shook his head and laughed. “Finally get there? I mean, I’ve been flirting with you nonstop for like a month.” He smiled. “Maybe you and Ladybug should hang out. The everyday Ladybug and the real-life Ladybug. Both of you can be really dense when it … comes to … realizing … oh my god.”

Adrien saw the exact moment that she realized that he had figured her out. One moment she was watching him attentively. The next, her eyes had widened in panic, her pupils shrinking down to tiny pinpoints. He knew that if he did nothing, she’d start flailing her arms around and denying it.

The distance between them turned to nothing as he leapt toward her, laughing. She grumbled as he pulled her close, squeezing her tight against his chest, but she didn’t try to break free.

“Don’t be so proud of yourself. You only got lucky,” she said as she returned the hug.

“Luck or not, I finally found you … my lady.”

He looked down at her face at the same moment that she looked up into his. A moment laden with meaning passed between them before they both broke down laughing again. At long last, they had finally found each other.