#i wish i could be more help but unfortunately because it's fanfic my hands are kinda tied by copyright

[pastafossa]

Would you consider having TRT published for people to have a physical copy? I know you said you were thinking about publishing a version of it

I've looked into it! So far as I can tell, I cannot legally publish TRT as is to sell to you because of The Great And All-Seeing Mouse's copyright. I even looked into selling at cost - basically you paying me only the amount required to actually make it (aka: no profit for me), but that seems to be a very risky grey area. I know other fics have done it like Fallout Equestria but those companies are a little more friendly than The Noble And Standing Over My Shoulder Mouse who is aggressively protective of his copyright even when you're not making money.

What I can do:

I can publish what amounts to an AU of TRT in which all canon references have either been removed (Daredevil plotlines) or altered (Matt's appearance, name, and profession, though I'd keep his personality), and only my original elements (TRT-unique plotline) and characters (Jane, Ciro, Eli, Maya, Daniel, etc) remain. This is the generally accepted way to publish your fanfic, and if I self-publish (tentative plan), I can leave TRT up if I understand the legality correctly. My plan's also going to be to change enough of the original plotline that there are surprises for any TRT readers (as well as giving me additional distance between the fic and the AU so no one can argue I'm 'using' the fic to make money on my book). This is going to take a while, though, since there's a lot to change between pronouns, the plot, the characters, and themes.

I can allow you to create your own physical copy. There are book printers who create individual books for people, and since you would be paying and I wouldn't be making any money, this would be legal! This is likely the easiest way to get a hard copy of the original TRT!

You can also bookbind it yourself without having to go to a book printer at all! There are some excellent guides to bookbinding online, and I've had multiple requests from readers who wanted to bookbind a copy for their own shelf, which I'm totally ok with! Again, as long as it's not being sold you have my permission to do this!

Sadly as far as I know, those are the only three ways you can get a TRT-Original or TRT-AU as a hard copy. Honestly if I had the money, I'd just order a bunch of hard copies and give them away to readers for free. When TRT is eventually done, I do plan to have a hard copy printed for myself (or maybe bookbound, not sure) and have tentative plans to buy a few extra to give away as a raffle thing. But unfortunately, I can't afford to do that on a wider scale.

[luzlopesarts]

This is not an update to the Comic, but it still has something to do with it !!!

(call it a little gift for the Wish Rewrite and KoW fandom)

Hello my little stars! How are you?

I mentioned in the last post in the series that I would be traveling for a week or two and that's why I wouldn't be working. Well I'm still traveling Lmao.

It's been a lot of fun, I'm visiting my Prince Charming and family, both of whom I haven't been to in a long time. Still, I couldn't stop thinking about KoW and Wish's Concept Arts. Disney sealed the fate of its fan artists by discarding so much good material, now they are embedded in our minds and we will not be able to rest until we see them realized. This is crazy but it's beautiful to see how much these discarded concepts generated creative potential in the fandom.

Because of all this I couldn't help but make some small sketches! And well, I came to show them here. They are not sketches of Comic panels, but they have something to do with it and I will show the photos and explain how.

This first one, very faded, are Magnificent and Amable's clothes (designed by @uva124, for the characters in @annymation's rewrite of Wish "The Kingdom of Wishes"). The drawings that Aled did are very complex, I don't judge her for that, in fact I thank her, she gave beautiful clothes to the centuries-old Disney villains and they are perfect. I really wish I could draw them with all the details, but I will do everything by hand, alone and seeking a minimally professional quality (I want to be a comic artist/book illustrator one day. This comic is my first step Lmao, and I want to do something that conveys the best I can give at the moment), so I need to make some things easier for myself. The costumes are one of those things.

" Better something simple and well done than complex and poorly done." — This is my motto for this Comic and for my life.

The next sketches are related to aesthetics. I've been watching a lot of "Analyzing the Art" videos of some Disney films and I was inspired to adopt some "Disney Style" features in my arts for this comic (not everything obviously, because I don't want to be sued by Disney lmao).

What you'll see next is me trying to mix this influence with my own style in some KoW character sketches.

(this last art specifically references a meme in which @rascalentertainments tagged me, Thanks for that, by the way! <3 )

(credits to the artist, I don't know who it is because I was just tagged in this meme and I was busy So I didn't look for more information, but I'll leave the post link and you can check the official credits)

Speaking of aesthetics. Anny received Chiara's aesthetic from someone — the north star, "daughter of Aster", created by his magic at the very end of Anny's fanfic. This Aesthetic inspired me to create an aesthetic for Asha and Aster too and these were the results:

What's your favorite?

Lmao, It took a lot of work to make Aster's. There are almost no things for "starboys" on Pinterest.

I'm leaving this up to you to share as you wish, consider it a gift to the fandom!

Lastly, I want to say that the artistic analysis videos They also inspired me to put together a moodboard for KoW and I'll be leaving it here. Not even Anny and Aled know about this and I can't wait to see their reactions! I wish I could print this painting and leave it on the wall, but unfortunately I don't have a printer T-T.

This moodboard is helping me with the artistic direction of colors, style and is a visual motivation to stay active at work.

I hope you like it too!

That's it for today, it's already midnight in Brazil and I should be sleeping instead of posting crazy things on the internet. I'm going to tag my friends and go to sleep, Lmao.

Kisses full of light and stars!

~ Emy

@wings-of-sapphire @flicklikesstuff @frogcoven88 @chillwildwave @gracebethartacc @gracebethartacc @kstarsarts @oh-shtars Come and get your therapies after the anguish caused by certain publications by Anny!

[abirdthatdrawsthings]

Heya! It’s me again! And today I’ve risen from the dead to hand you all some art!! (Tried procreate as I listened to “as the world caves in” and this was the result. Anywho)

Warning: Blood, bruises, (talk of death in my ramble), and overall angst!

So, I made this thing based off a fanfic I’m yet to write. Highly inspired by the fact that technically Revali and Link may have met one last time that being in castle town… and yes I know Revali was BOOKING it to Vah Medoh but… just imagine… (large ramble under the cut. Sorry I am SO ill abt them rn gsgvshd)

…The two having one last meeting. One last goodbye. Because no matter how much they reassured themselves they’d meet once more… they felt deep inside that wouldn’t be the case. Revali whispered a desperate plea for Link to run the other way, saying he had already lost enough friends today and just couldn’t afford to loose his knight aswell. And Link wished Revali could stay there.. or run with he and Zelda. Because he heard the cries of help from Daruk and Mipha… he knew something awaited his lovebird at his divine beast… but unfortunately.. his lovebird just so happened to be the stubbornest Rito in all Hyrule. The two departed, refusing to say goodbye… but rather a “we’ll meet again” .

A few hours later… a horribly loud and desperate SOS call was heard.

And a hour or so afterward, the knight succumbed to his wounds.

And even though 100 years later… Link and Revali would look upon eachother again… Link would no longer remember those times he and Revali would sit together as they watched the snow fall or fire crackle. Link would never remember the day he was gifted a paraglider so the two could soar high above together. Link would never remember the playful banter, those quiet yet comforting nights, the way the Rito gazed at him softly… the day before the calamity where the Rito champion wove a bracelet representing his love for the Hylian champion…

But all he remembered now was a prideful gaze upon that first meeting. And forgot all that followed.

And Revali would soon settle with the fact… even though Hyrule’s hero now stood before him… just as they had said they would.. Link… his Link had died that day just as he did… and being honest… Revali felt almost as if he had died once more upon that realization… because the way his heart felt now felt even worse than it did when Windblight had created that gaping hole in his chest.

…Anywho so yeah. Even tho I’m not all for pre-calamity revalink let’s just say the angst potential of such a thing had me in a chokehold and I NEEDED to make something. Anyways!! Sorry if this is bad I just NEEDED to get this out of my brain. But!!! I hope you guys like this art and ramble. Maybe I’ll make this an actual fanfic later! who knows! But!! I promise I’ll make some revalink fluff next i PROMISE it’s just been a VERY emotional summer ok?!? Bsvsvdv. Anywho hope y’all like this. I’ll try posting more! Till then, cya!!

[lexusiswriting]

A love you deserve (Ricky Olson) - Part 7 of ?

Hi guys!

I think this story will have 2 more parts, but we'll have to see. If you have any requests, you can send them for future fanfics or one-shots. <3

Warnings: none.

Taggs: @multifandomcrackhead, @nicelittlenightmares, @roll-tide-babe89, @skulliecadaver-blog, @21-century-tae, @melissa-anderson, @abiomens, @w743, @insanitywulf, @awkwardalex, @philomenie

Requests: OPEN.

______________________________

The last week of the tour was pure torture. I refused to get out of my bed if it didn’t imply getting on the stage, that was my only exception. Chris came to see me every day, trying to know what happened that changed me so drastically. Even at that moment, I kept the secret as I promised - not one soul would ever hear it from me.

After we ended our thing, I thought I would suffer in peace, but that was not the case. Apparently, someone saw us one night, leaving Ricky’s bus. That person took pictures of us and posted them online. I cried even more when I saw them. We were holding hands and smiling at each other. The photo in which we were kissing destroyed me the most. His arms were on my waist, making sure there was no space left between us, while my hands were in his hair. Even while kissing we were both smiling and everyone thought we were very much in love. I wished this was the case.

While we were trying to put out the fire separately, because I refused to talk to him, Ben decided to make this whole thing even worse for me. One hour after the pictures were posted, he made a post on a social platform about me. He called me all sort of names, saying that Ricky was the one to end our relationship and promised that things will not stay this way. I knew what he can do when he is jealous, but I was sure this time it was only a strategy to clear his name in case I would decide to tell the world the real reason behind our breakup.  

I was still looking at those pictures when I heard Chris came to visit me for the last time.

“How are you feeling?”

“Nothing changed. Maybe a little bit worse than before.”

“You can’t stay like this forever.”

“I know. I just need to get out of here.”

“Well, this is the last day. And as the tradition goes, we start with a party and we will end with one as well.”

“I’m not coming. And you’ll never change my mind.”

“Believe me, it will help you. I’ll make sure Ricky will be nowhere near you.”

“I said no, Chris. We have one more concert in an hour. After that, we will go home. I already talked with the boys and they said this is the best thing to do as well.”

He sighed and looked at the ground. I knew he was trying his best to help me, but no one could do anything at this moment.

“Alright, I won’t try to convince you anymore. I promise I will come to see you when I’ll be in L.A.. But you have to promise me the next time I’ll see you, you’ll be happier.”

“That I can promise.”

I gave him a hug, thanking him for being my best friend.

____________________________________

Ricky’s point of view

Even though he denied it every time, I know Chris hates me. I broke Lexus’s heart and for that, he will never forgive me. He started a fight after the pictures were posted and demanded to know everything. Unfortunately, I had to break my promise and tell him everything. I couldn’t help her now, but Chris could, only if he knew the truth. Every time I would ask how she was feeling, he would respond that it was not my business. I wished to be that easy to ask her myself, but Xander acted like her personal bodyguard.

While I was walking to the party, I realized how afraid I was to see her. Maybe it will make her even more upset, or she will pretend I do not exist at all. I don’t know which is worse.

I got a drink and found a free table, searching the place for Lexus. I really hope Chris convinced her to come, under the pretext that she will feel better. Not seeing her for a week started something in me that I could not explain.

After some time, I saw Chris approaching me, but he was alone.

“Congratulations, Ricky. I’ve never seen Lexus so heartbroken before.”

“Where is she? Maybe I can try to talk to her and …”

“She just left. Being here made her feel worse, so she decided to go home.”

I had enough time for 7 days to apologize to her and I didn’t. Now she is gone and who knows when I’ll see her again.

[pascaloverx]

Invisible Bonds: The Power of Destiny

Author's Note: This fanfic contains possible strong language and explores themes of unconventional love. The relationship between the protagonists will be handled with sensitivity, without explicit scenes. If there are explicit scenes, readers will be warned. This fanfic focuses on the reader's relationship with Jungkook and Taehyung, separately.

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Chapter Ten

The pain of losing your soulmate is immeasurable and unfortunately you don't remove your feelings for your soulmate instantly. It means that when you spent the morning writhing in pain and screaming,you still wished Jungkook was okay. You wished he would give up before completing the process. Just wished...

"Are you sure you don't need help there?" Taehyung shouts outside your bathroom. You decided to take a shower to see if you could relax a little.

"How do you plan to help me? By shampooing my head?" He stayed by your side all the time as you dealt with the pain of separation. But asking him to help you with the shower was beyond your intentions.

"I see you've recovered well." He says looking a little upset, you then finish your shower and put on your clothes as quickly as possible. You need to clarify things. When you came out of the bathroom you found Taehyung leaving your apartment but you grabbed his arm and stopped him from leaving.

"I'm sorry if I'm being a little annoying. Maybe more than a little. I guess I'm just not used to someone taking care of me like that." You say almost in a whisper. Your eyes are penetrated at Taehyung. The way he fixes his hair when he's looking for something to say. Or how he sticks his tongue out of his mouth a little when he's about to say something. Details you are enjoying observing.

"I already took care of you before this soulmate shit came into our lives." He says, suspicious of what you're saying.

"Before it was different. You said you loved me, we kissed. Nothing is the same as before. I feel different now about you." Being honest is something necessary at this moment, especially because you are trying to understand your feelings.

"How different?" He asks, taking a step towards you, a bigger step than you expected. Now you're looking at each other.

"Different because now I feel like you want me. And I don't know how to react. I spent years loving you, silently enduring watching you fall in love with someone else. And now that I was moving on, you noticed me." Whether you like it or not, this is your reality.

"The next year after we met, we went to a Christmas party together and I told you that your hair looked weird when you had bangs. You threw a snowball at me and told me to take back what I said. Then I looked into your eyes and said..." And then the images of that party came to his head. It was the night you witnessed Taehyung kiss a girl for the first time. So you got really drunk. And some things you don't even remember about that damn night.

"Even though I'm weird, I love you. It was the first time you said that to me. I always thought it was because of the alcohol." That moment passed like a flashback in your eyes. He said he loved me after spending an hour exploring someone else's face.

"That was me, being honest. But you told me you could never allow yourself to return that love. Don't you remember?" His audacity almost makes you believe that you should have confessed your love that day.

"I remember spending an hour watching you show all this love by kissing someone else. Did you want me to throw myself into your arms and say "have me"?"

"I don't remember that. Yet you said it so truthfully. I thought you didn't think of me romantically." You saw the sincerity in his eyes. Not knowing what to do, you grabbed his face with two hands and pulled him towards you.

"You love me. And I certainly loved you. I don't know how this will end. But recently we become emotionally available." You bring his face closer to yours, placing a peck on his lips. And then another peck followed by one more.

"Which way is your room?" He speaks with his eyes closed, as their lips seek yours. You point to the right of the one at the end of the hallway and he then kisses you with more passion. You quickly become out of breath as you lose track of what is you and what is him. He holds your waist and lifts you up, almost carrying you to the bedroom. And so you spent a memorable moment with someone destiny didn't plan for you.

Next Few Days

"Jungkook! Jungkook!" You scream knocking on his door at two in the morning.This asshole simply decided to have a party in the middle of the week to celebrate his band's birthday. But you work tomorrow. A girl opens the door revealing a crowd behind her. Maybe you're exaggerating but there are a lot of people at this party.

“Jungkook is busy, do you want to leave a message?” She says looking at you with a mocking face, you simply walked past her and entered the apartment. He looked in every corner until he found him. Jungkook, who you hadn't seen since he broke up with the bond you two had. He he was curled up with a girl and surrounded by some people.

"So this is the real you? A complete idiot who doesn't care about your neighbors?" You shout angrily, knowing he doesn't expect to see you. He reacts in surprise, your eyes meet his. It's like a stab to see him and not feel anything. Or almost nothing.

"What are you doing here?" Is all he says, as he walks away from the girl and approaches you. Maybe it's to hear what I'm saying. There's a lot of noise here so you don't even know if he heard you knocking on the door.

"Warning you that if you don't turn that music down, I'll come back here with a bat and break your instruments. All of them." You speak angrily to him, and getting more and more irritated by the loud sound. You then head out of his apartment.

"You can't come into my apartment and leave like it's nothing." You hear Jungkook talking but keep walking. Until you feel him hold your hand.

To be continued...

[silvfyre-writings]

Resilient like a Cactus (BSD Fanfic)

I return with another Journey of Parenting fic! It's been a while since my last Fukuzawa and Ranpo fic, so I am excited to share this with all of you!! I finished this a while ago, but because I was working on Infection AU at the same time, I wanted to finish writing that before I posted anything else.

I can't remember if I stated Ranpo's age in the fic, but just in case I didn't, they are fifteen at this point in the timeline.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, and if you liked it, leave a like and a comment, maybe even a reblog!!! Comments are food to us writers, so don't be afraid to!!

ENJOY <3

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Those were the words that ran through Fukuzawa’s brain as he walked through alleyways, keeping to the shadows and trying to avoid attracting attention from those he wished not to interact with. Which was everyone loitering about as he strongly wished he were anywhere but here right now. However his mission for this evening was important, so important that it had to be done, which mean that sacrifices—such as that of his comfort—were necessary, and that he would minimise his complaints.

A hard thing to do when he was on his way to visit one Mori Ougai.

The underground doctor was someone that Fukuzawa loathed dealing with, even though he’d only dealt with the man a few times for protection jobs. There was just something about him that irked Fukuzawa, something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and no, it wasn’t how Mori Ougai conducted his business in the underground. Fukuzawa was well aware that Mori’s hands weren’t clean, but who was he to judge when his own were just as filthy? But even so, the fewer encounters they had with each other, the better. Unfortunately, though, it just so happened that Mori was the only person that could actually help Fukuzawa with his problem without being annoying, what with his wide information network that spread across the entirety of Yokohama.

Did it still leave him with a sour feeling in his stomach? Yes.

But did he have any other choice? No.

After all, the reason he was even venturing out this late was because of a certain teenager in his care. His heart gave a pang as his thoughts drifted towards Ranpo, who he’d left sleeping comfortably in their bed, unable to keep himself from worrying over them. It hadn’t been a good day for either of them—Fukuzawa had been awoken by screams, and thrown himself from his futon to find Ranpo clutched in the grips of a nightmare. He’d managed to wake the younger, holding them close as they broke in his arms, as such had been the occurrence for the past week, until they’d calmed.

Ranpo never said what the nightmares were about, but they didn’t have to, not when they would clutch at their shoulder with a grip so tight after waking, that Fukuzawa had to pry their fingers off to make sure that they didn’t break the skin.

It was the only time that Fukuzawa ever felt helpless. It always broke his heart, and left his gut clenching to know how much Ranpo suffered whenever such nightmares occurred. And it wasn’t just that, but the way that sometimes, the two of them would just be talking, and Ranpo would suddenly cut off, a haunted look to their face as they recalled a memory that Fukuzawa wasn’t privy to. And sometimes, he would walk past Ranpo’s room, to see the teen standing in front of the mirror, eyes focused on that god-forsaken scar on his shoulder.

And the fact that Fukuzawa could do nothing but watch and support from the sidelines… well, it just left him wishing he could do more.

Hence why he was seeking Mori out instead of working for him for a change.

Because he knew that if he tried to go outside of the underground for what he was hoping to accomplish, he would be arrested faster than he could draw his sword, and Ranpo would be whisked away, either back to the streets, or into a system that had no hope of ever understanding him. Not that Ranpo knew what Fukuzawa was doing—at least, that’s what he thought—and he hoped to keep it that way until he had a definite answer to give.

Mori wasn’t impossible to track down, but he certainly wasn’t the easiest to find, and by the time that Fukuzawa figured out where the doctor was hiding, the sun was tucked well below the horizon, the moon providing the only source of light where even the street lights didn’t dare to try and reach. Such darkness would scare most people, but the darkness was his second home, where he’d once thrived before he’d encountered Ranpo.

Killing.

Hurting.

And while he’d stepped away from such a life, there was no denying that side of him. It was part of the reason why he hated having to work with Mori on the odd occasion; the man was extremely good at pushing all his buttons, riling him up until he wanted to either explode or behead the man, and reminding Fukuzawa of the life he constantly tried to push behind him.

Fukuzawa shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the present as he turned down the alleyway that he needed. Focusing on the past was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place, not that he would ever place the blame on Ranpo for any of it. It wasn’t their fault that the adults, aside from that of their parents, had failed them when they needed guidance the most. A task that now fell to Fukuzawa, and one that he intended to do well at, even if his methods were sure to raise eyebrows.

A brief memory flashed across his mind, one of blood and tears, and the reason why he was venturing out to begin with.

Finally, Fukuzawa reached the door of Mori’s clinic, and knocked on the door in a specific way; a code that only Mori could decipher, one that would let the underground doctor know that it was him. And sure enough, not even a minute after knocking, did the door crack open, and those familiar eyes of saturated pink peered through the gap, eyeing Fukuzawa cautiously.

Clearly, the doctor had had another run-in with people after his head.

“Mori-sensei.” Fukuzawa greeted, forcing himself to be polite.

“Fukuzawa-dono, what a surprise.” Mori’s lips stretched into a grin, which told Fukuzawa that his visit wasn’t a surprise in the slightest, and that the doctor had very much known he was coming. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this fine evening?”

Fukuzawa folded his arms into his sleeves. “A request. For information.”

“Oh? That’s rare.” The door opened further, and Mori slipped out into the street, cracking the door so only the faintest of light bathed the two of them. “And what do you offer in exchange for said information?”

Even though Fukuzawa knew the question was coming, had even prepared for it before he left his apartment, it still had him sucking in air. His eyes fell shut, and he sighed. “I offer my bodyguard services, free of charge, no matter who it is you want me to guard.”

Mori hummed, leaning against the wall. The doctor crossed his arms, fingers tapping away while he thought over Fukuzawa’s request. And as much as Fukuzawa wanted to urge Mori to hurry up and answer him, all that would achieve was Mori refusing to help him. He had to be patient, no matter how long it took. But if he imagined all sorts of bad luck befalling Mori while he waited, then that was no one’s business but his own.

Except maybe Ranpo, but it wasn’t like the teen was with him anyway.

And, finally, after several minutes of silence, Mori spoke. “I’ll accept your offer, Fukuzawa-dono. Now what is it you need?”

“A tattoo artist willing to tattoo a fifteen-year-old.”

Mori blinked. “Come again?”

“I know you heard me.” Fukuzawa opened his eyes, levelling Mori with a look. “I’m not repeating myself.”

“Oh, I heard you, I’m just surprised that someone so fixated on being in the light now wants to dip his toes into the dark for such a thing. Might I ask what the reasoning for your request is?”

“You may not.”

The two stared each other down, Mori curious, and Fukuzawa steadfast. Neither man budged as the silence grew between them, but Fukuzawa knew he would win. His offer was too good for Mori to not cave and give him the information he wanted—he knew that if the roles were reversed, he’d accept such a deal, which is why he knew it would work—it was just a matter of waiting him out.

“Alright. Wait here.” Mori vanished back into his clinic, the door shutting quietly behind him, and leaving Fukuzawa alone in the dark.

Fukuzawa turned his head to the sky, the darkness of the underground areas allowing a few precious stars to poke through the pollution, shining brightly enough to lift his spirits. He’d always been fond of the night sky, believing that each star was guiding him along this new path of his. The stars always seemed to shine brighter when he found himself struggling, as if they themselves, were encouraging him to keep going. One day, he’d have to take Ranpo out to watch the stars—he wasn’t sure if they would enjoy such a mundane activity, but after many months of stress, one night of peace would do wonders. Regardless, he made a note to ask at some point.

The time continued to tick by, the moon rising in the sky slowly, and Fukuzawa found himself growing impatient, although he tried to squash it down. He knew that if he gave in to his impatience, and barged into the clinic, that Mori would win at this little game they were playing with each other, and he absolutely refused to give the other man the satisfaction of winning. The only way that Mori would ever win one of their games, would be over Fukuzawa’s dead body.

That Mori would quite happily arrange if he spoke such words aloud.

“Here, Fukuzawa-dono.” Mori’s voice dragged his attention down from the sky, and Fukuzawa accepted the folded piece of paper he was offered. “I took the liberty of calling ahead for you since he’s such a busy man. I also, was kind enough to find someone that operates legally, since you are such a good person nowadays.”

Fukuzawa shuddered, Mori’s words left a certain feeling of discomfort deep within him, one that only someone like Mori could achieve. “Do not say such things again, they are tainted coming from you.”

“Such cruel words, when all I’ve done is be helpful.” Mori sighed, looking mournful for only a second before he shrugged. “No matter, I’ve given you what you want. I expect you to come without hesitation when I call for you, Fukuzawa-dono.”

“I will be there, Mori-sensei.” Reluctantly of course.

And then Fukuzawa was left alone, Mori slinking back into his clinic and shutting the door behind him, almost as if their interaction had never occurred in the first place. As such, were interactions in the underground often taken, and Fukuzawa preferred it that way. Get in, get out, that was how things were meant to be. Lingering about, and attracting attention were surefire ways of getting yourself gutted—and Fukuzawa meant literally, for he’d often seen Mori treat patients that had been wounded for no reason other than they’d looked suspicious to those that called the underground their home.

Which was why the moment he was left alone, Fukuzawa turned on his heal and began to make his way home, studying the piece of paper that Mori had give him. On that scrap of paper, there was a name, an address, and a time, so now all that was left to do, was to suggest the idea to Ranpo and see if they would take to it. And although he wasn’t one to believe in God’s, he sent a prayer up to the stars that they would, that they would take this chance to try and heal, regardless of how unorthodox it was.

“I’m home.” Fukuzawa called as he stepped into the apartment, pausing for a moment to listen out for footsteps, or a welcoming shout, but none came; odd but not completely unexpected, considering the late hour. He stepped further into the apartment after toeing off his sandals, silently moving across the room as he searched for Ranpo.

It didn’t take long for him to find the teen, curled up on the couch underneath a blanket and dressed in a yukata, face finally free of the stress that had been engraved on it the entire day. For once, Ranpo looked the teen that they were, and Fukuzawa hoped that if Ranpo went through with this spontaneous idea of his, to get the scar that caused them so much distress covered up by something that they could look at and feel happiness over, that they would able to look like this every day.

He elected to leave Ranpo where they were, although he made sure to place a pillow behind their head, and tucked the blanket around their shoulders a little more, watching them burrow deeper into them. A fond look crossed Fukuzawa’s face before he moved on to let Ranpo sleep, heading towards his own room to prepare for bed, and for the next day, which he wasn’t quite sure on how it would be. As he changed into more comfortable clothing suitable for sleeping, he considered the possibility of being woken up in the middle of the night by another nightmare, or that the morning would come and he would find Ranpo in the clutches of a shutdown episode. But he also considered the possibility that morning would bring with it, a good day, that the two of them would both enjoy; perhaps they would even be called out for a case since Ranpo had started making a name for themself.

Really, he could consider and prepare all he wanted, but there was nothing he could do but live each day as it came, regardless of whether it promised to be good or bad.

And that was what he clung to, crawling into his futon and closing his eyes, the positives. For as many hurdles as he and Ranpo had jumped over, the journey they were undertaking together was slowly on the healing path.

“You came home late.” Ranpo commented the moment that Fukuzawa stepped into the room the next morning. Already, the genius detective was awake, sitting up and twirling a lollipop around their mouth. Ranpo’s head hung off the back of the couch, their eyes following Fukuzawa as he made his way towards the kitchen.

“My errand took longer than I thought.” Fukuzawa said, opening the fridge. “Did you eat while I was gone.”

“Yep.” Ranpo popped the word as they plucked the lollipop from their mouth, waving it in Fukuzawa’s direction. “The dinner you made wasn’t sweet enough by the way.”

Fukuzawa pulled out a piece of fruit, not feeling much like having a heavy breakfast that morning. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Despite his calm words, and exterior, inside his stomach was twisting around itself, and he admittedly felt a little bit anxious because of what he’d gone and arranged, and he wasn’t sure on how Ranpo would react. Sure, the opinion of a fifteen-year-old teenager shouldn’t matter so much to him, but it did. Just as he’d reached his hand out to Ranpo, Ranpo had done the same in return. They were sort of like family to each other, but also not. Two strangers who had once felt ostracised from the world finding a new purpose in life because of each other. Fukuzawa wasn’t quite sure of the label that he and Ranpo should use—calling them family felt like he would be erasing the memory of Ranpo’s parents, who the younger very much still valued and loved, and calling them friends felt a little strange. They’d only known each other a year, and well… it wasn’t like he really knew what it meant to be friends with others. He’d only had one friend as a child and they didn’t even speak to each other anymore.

Friends? Colleagues? What else was there?

Fukuzawa shook his head, clearing his mind of his worries. There was no point getting worked up about it. It was simply a minor detail that no one would even care to think about. Except for him apparently. He turned to look at Ranpo, who was watching him with a critical eye; there was a question behind those eyes, but it seemed that Ranpo was holding themself back. Like they knew Fukuzawa’s inner turmoil before he could even speak of it. “Dinner wasn’t sweet because it was supposed to be nutritious.”

“Duh, I knew that already.” Ranpo rolled their eyes, and twisted about until they were facing Fukuzawa properly. “Just spit it out already, Fukuzawa-san, before I deduce it.”

“Nothing gets past you.” It was a statement rather than a question, but the look on Fukuzawa’s face is fond as he walks over to the couch, holding out the bottle of ramune he’d grabbed along with his breakfast.

Ranpo doesn’t hesitate to take it. “Nope! So hurry up and tell me!”

Instead of answering, Fukuzawa reached into the sleeve of his haori and plucked out the piece of paper that Mori had given him the previous night. “Here.”

“What’s this?” Ranpo asked, frowning, as they studied the paper.

Fukuzawa didn’t answer immediately, watching anxiously, as Ranpo put together the pieces of the puzzle they’d been given. Ranpo’s eyes flicked from the paper to him, and back again. Their expression didn’t immediately give anything away, just a look that could only be deeply thinking. Still, it made Fukuzawa want to step forward and snatch the paper away, claiming that he wasn’t thinking and for Ranpo to ignore it.

But just as he began to actually consider doing so, Ranpo spoke. “Do you think it will help?”

“I don’t know.” Fukuzawa admitted. “I would like to believe that it would. As taboo as society considers it, I believe that if you replace the scar that causes you so much pain with something you can look at fondly, you may be able to heal and put it behind you.”

Ranpo hummed. “But the memories will still be there.”

“They will.” Fukuzawa inclined his head in agreement. “But just because it’s a memory that will always be there, it doesn’t mean that it has to control you.”

Another hum, and silence this time.

“Would you like me to leave you to think over it?”

“Yeah… thanks.”

“I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Fukuzawa said, reaching over to ruffle Ranpo’s hair gently before leaving the teen alone. He understood the need to be left alone in times where you needed to think hard about a decision, so he had no trouble honouring Ranpo’s wish, as much as he’d have preferred to sit with them and work through it together. But he’d squash that feeling down, and focus on getting through the never-ending paperwork he always seemed to be drowning in those days.

A quick glance over his shoulder showed that Ranpo had laid down again, holding the paper high into the air.

Fukuzawa turned away, before his resolve could slip any further.

A sigh.

Then another sigh.

And before the third one could even have the breath drawn to give life to it, Fukuzawa stopped and turned to face Ranpo. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” The response is short, filled with tension, and Fukuzawa can see Ranpo’s form slowly coiling up the longer that he stares at them. Something is wrong, Ranpo just doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it considering the two of them are currently in public, making their way to the parlour.

Looking about, the only suitable place Fukuzawa could see was an alleyway just up ahead, so he reached out to grab the sleeve of Ranpo’s shirt and guided them into the alley, levelling Ranpo with a look that says he won’t be taking no for an answer. “Lack of communication between us only causes more problems, so tell me, Ranpo, please.”

Ranpo’s brow furrowed, and they turned away. Their fingers wrapped around each other squeezing tight and releasing a moment later; anxiety then, Fukuzawa figured, but he waited for Ranpo to find the words they needed before jumping to conclusions.

“It’s going to hurt.” Ranpo said.

Fukuzawa nodded. “It will. I told you how tattoo’s work when you agreed.”

“What if it hurts too much?”

“Then we stop, and reassess.” Fukuzawa reassured, resting his hand on top of Ranpo’s head. “This idea is just that—an idea. You do not have to go through with it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Ranpo’s cheeks puffed out. “I know that!”

“Then why do you hesitate if you know?” Fukuzawa asked.

“Because I don’t want you to get in trouble for trying to help me!” Finally, Fukuzawa thought, this is what they were worried about. He listened as Ranpo continued to rant. “You’re doing this to help, but technically it’s illegal, and I know that Yokohama doesn’t really pay attention to orphans and the people they hang around but—”

“Ranpo.” Fukuzawa interrupted before Ranpo could continue, dropping his hand to rest on the teen’s shoulder now. “It will be fine. Trust me on that.”

Silence followed his words, but after a moment, Ranpo nodded, and stepped out onto the street, Fukuzawa right behind them. Taking the lead once again, Fukuzawa continued on their route, checking the address he’d been given, and the directions on his phone, to make sure that they were heading in the right direction. And sure enough, after a couple more turns, they arrived at the parlour.

It was an inconspicuous building, off the main road, and just advertised as a parlour with no indication at being for tattoo’s. For the best really, since Fukuzawa was certain that there were enough people with cruel intentions that would target such a building. It was still Japan after all, and even though attitudes were changing, there was still a lot of negativity; part of the reason why Fukuzawa had been hesitant to suggest the idea in the first place, not wanting Ranpo to be ostracised even more than they already had been.

He pushed open the door, allowing Ranpo to step past him before he followed and shut it quietly behind him. The inside was clean and homey, paintings and books scattered across the walls, a couple of televisions, and a couch. It was like they’d stepped into someone’s home rather than a tattoo parlour, and Fukuzawa was grateful that for once, Mori’s information had actually been good.

There was only one other person in the store, a man that appeared younger than Fukuzawa, who looked up and greeted them with a smile. “You must be Fukuzawa-san, and Ranpo-san. Nice to meet you, you can call me Daisuke. I’ve been told you’re here to cover up a scar.”

Of course Mori figured it out. Fukuzawa fought the urge to roll his eyes. Nosy doctor. “Yes, that is correct.” He gestured towards Ranpo. “I was told you would overlook age for this.”

Ranpo ducked behind him, using Fukuzawa as a shield.

Daisuke just smiled warmly at them before looking up at Fukuzawa. “Of course. Usually we’re closed today, so there’s no chance of someone stumbling upon us. And we have all day, so we can take our time. I will need to take a look to see what I’m working with though.”

Behind him, Ranpo tensed.

Fukuzawa stepped to the side and placed his hand between Ranpo’s shoulders, hopefully to be seen as both reassurance, and encouragement to the teen. “I’ll be right here, Ranpo. Remember what I said.”

“Don’t let it control me.” Ranpo responded, repeating his words from the previous day. They took a deep breath, and stepped forward to follow Daisuke into his workspace.

Fukuzawa sat on the couch, and although he tried to focus his attention on literally anything else, he found himself watching Ranpo and Daisuke carefully. There were words being spoken between the two, not that Fukuzawa could hear what was being said, but it meant that things weren’t going wrong, which was good. And then Ranpo was unbuttoning their shirt, just enough that they could pull it to the side to reveal the scar. The sight of the teeth marks filled Fukuzawa with a familiar rage that he was quick to squash down.

He had to give credit to Daisuke though; the artist leant down to study the mark, but didn’t reach out to touch it, and he was standing back far enough that he wasn’t encroaching on Ranpo’s space. This meant that aside from the tension that was simply nerves, Ranpo was far more comfortable, and as the two of them shifted to stand over a tablet, they began to relax even further, until there was no tension at all, and Ranpo was smiling in excitement.

A fond smile graced Fukuzawa’s own face, and he was pleased with himself that he’d managed to do something right in this long journey of healing. That wasn’t to say that he hadn’t succeeded before now, because he had, and Ranpo had told him as such, but it was still good to see the fruits of his efforts—Ranpo truly had come far since he’d taken them in. Gone was the scrawny child with trauma packed onto their shoulders; instead, there was a healthy teen, still with trauma because such things never truly left a person, that continued to grow and succeed.

It made Fukuzawa feel proud.

“Fukuzawa-san.” Ranpo’s voice caught his attention, and he looked up to see the younger standing in front of him, a piece of paper in his hand. The moment he lifted his head, Ranpo thrust the paper beneath his nose. “What do you think?”

On the paper was a simple design; flowers, familiar for some reason, yet Fukuzawa couldn’t place where he’d seen them, with pink and yellow. “It’s nice.” He said, smiling softly. “What kind of flowers are they?”

“They’re cacti flowers.” Ranpo explained. “We saw them once in a shop. I like them, and cacti are hardy, being able to survive the harshest of conditions, and… so have I.”

“You have.” Fukuzawa handed the paper back to Ranpo. “It’s a good meaning.”

“Great!” Ranpo beamed at him. “I knew you’d agree with me.”

Fukuzawa hummed. Of course you did. “Do you want me to sit with you?”

Ranpo shook their head. “I want to do this on my own.”

“I understand. I shall wait here for you then.”

Fukuzawa passed the time by reading one of the many books, although he found that he couldn’t focus on the book with the incessant buzzing in the room. Many times, he had to fight the urge to check on Ranpo, especially when the teen would made a pained noise, but Ranpo had said that they wanted to go through it by themselves, so Fukuzawa would respect that wish. He also vowed to never again step foot into a tattoo parlour. Sitting around and waiting was by far the worst pastime that one could engage in, and he was not inclined to do so again.

If for some reason, Ranpo desired another tattoo when they were older, they would go alone.

Although Fukuzawa knew that if they asked, he would go.

He wasn’t sure how many hours had passed since the buzzing had started, but he was acutely aware of it when it stopped, and looked up. From his current position, Fukuzawa couldn’t see what exactly was happening behind the curtain that had been drawn, but he could hear Daisuke instructing Ranpo how to care for the tattoo, and the sound of plastic being handled. He waited patiently, curious to see how the tattoo had turned out, but when Ranpo appeared, his shirt was buttoned up.

Ranpo caught sight of his expression and held up a finger towards him, grinning. “Nuh-uh, Fukuzawa-san! You have to be patient and wait until we get home to see it!”

And really, Fukuzawa shouldn’t have been surprised at such a decision. “I see.”

At that moment, Daisuke spoke up, holding out a small paper bag. “I’ve instructed Ranpo how to care for the tattoo until it heals. I’ve wrapped it in plastic, so you’ll need to leave it there for a few hours before you remove it, and afterwards, apply this cream twice daily for two weeks. It’ll get itchy once it starts to peel, but try not to scratch it. Any concerns, just give me a call and I’ll come by and check on it.”

“Thank you.” Fukuzawa stood and bowed before taking the bag; inside there was a sheet of paper—no doubt with care instructions—a business card, and a tube of antiseptic cream. “We appreciate you doing this.”

“I’m always happy to replace bad memories with good ones.” Daisuke smiled at them. “Just don’t go spreading it around that I tattooed a teenager though.”

“Of course.”

Fukuzawa paid Daisuke for his trouble, leaving a generous tip to show his thanks despite the man protesting initially before finally caving and accepting, and once that was done, began the trek home to their apartment.

For once, Ranpo was quiet, subdued even, and Fukuzawa gave into their request to be carried the moment it was made; it was obvious that they were tired after the events of the day, and Fukuzawa was not a cruel person. So he carried Ranpo on his back, listening to the quiet snores that filled his ear whilst the teen dozed on his back. The walk back to their apartment went much faster than the one to the parlour—at least, in Fukuzawa’s mind it did, and before he knew it, he was wrangling the door open and depositing Ranpo on the couch—gently—to regain their energy.

While Ranpo slept, Fukuzawa busied himself with reading the care instructions, finding them easy enough to follow, and just like Daisuke had described. The only problem he foresaw happening, was Ranpo forgetting to use the cream, but that was an easy enough problem to deal with. He just had to remind Ranpo, something he was more than used to do doing from how often he needed to do so. If it wasn’t the simplest of tasks, it was paperwork for the Agency they were building, and if it wasn’t the paperwork, it was making sure Ranpo wrote their deductions down for the police to put into their case files.

So yes, he was more than prepared to handle the task given to him.

“Are you ready?” Fukuzawa asked, standing in the bright light of the bathroom, Ranpo standing beside him.

Ranpo nodded, lifting their hands to unbutton their shirt. The appendages were shaking slightly, and Ranpo’s expression was once again one of nerves. Expected given the circumstances, and Fukuzawa wanted to reach over and wrap his arms around the teen.

But he refrained from doing so, for that was not his role right now.

His presence in the bathroom was to be a silent one. He was simply there as moral support, there to do nothing but watch as had been asked of him earlier. He stood to the side, hands in his sleeves as he watched Ranpo shrug their shirt from their shoulders, revealing the plastic that was stained with ink, concealing the artwork underneath.

Ranpo took in a breath, eyes focused on the tattoo, as they reached up to unwrap the plastic. The shaking in their hands subsided, and a determined look fell upon Ranpo’s face. And in a few seconds, the plastic came free, revealing a bouquet of pink that covered Ranpo’s shoulder, the skin shiny and… slimy. But still, the artwork was clear, beautifully crafted, as if Ranpo’s skin was not his skin, but a canvas to be shaped.

And underneath the ink, was a scar that one would fail to notice unless they were searching for it.

“It’s beautiful.” Fukuzawa said, stepping closer to see the tattoo.

Ranpo smiled. There was a thickness to their voice as they answered. “Yeah… it is…”

Fukuzawa looked over, concerned, and saw tears building in Ranpo’s eyes. He moved to wrap his arm around Ranpo, being mindful of his shoulder, and drew him closer. “Are those happy tears?”

“Yeah.” Ranpo’s voice cracked on that single word, and a few tears slipped down their cheeks. “Yeah, they’re happy tears. It’s just—a lot—I’m not sure how to…”

“That’s okay.” Fukuzawa soothed, giving Ranpo a gentle squeeze. “All that matters is that you are happy and that you like it.”

A sniff, and a wet laugh. “I do, I like it a lot. And I am very happy.”

Good, Fukuzawa thought, feeling tears prick his own eyes.

He had a feeling that only good things would happen from now on. A very good feeling.

[kon1fer]

Y’all I swear be nice this is my first one…

Twelfth Doctor x reader

12th Doctor x F!reader

~ 700 words

Warning: nothing else than fluff 💕

Wrote that at 4am ⚰️

As I said this is my first fanfic and my first language isn’t English so yyyyeeeeaaaahhhahsh

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Why?”

“Thank you for the day. It was amazing, one of the most amazing day in my human lifetime.”

“Because you have an alien lifetime?”

“Possibly. I wish so.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did, honestly.”

She looked at him, dangerously sinking into his eyes.

“What are you eyes made of?”

He didn’t really wondered why she asked him that.

“Probably star dust, like yours.”

“I assume that this stardust was from a beautiful blue nebulae.”

There was a barely visible blush that landed on his cheeks.

“Why are you doing this to me.”

She looked down.

“I want you to like me so you take me again for the cool space trips,” she said, totally honest.

She looked away, trying to not feel his eyes on her before talking again:

“You are so mysterious. I like that about you, you know?”

He stepped a little closer.

“What is so mysterious about me?”

She looked up at his face and searched with her eyes.

“Everything about you is strangely beautiful. But the hair are helping a lot.”

He slightly grinned.

“Are they?”

“Yes, they look like they’re kind of space magic. Magic hair for the outer space man.”

All of a sudden, she noticed that her heart was almost beating out of her chest. Must have been the peacefulness that the Doctor emanated that kept her unaware of everything else.

He seemed to be so above all this, like if he could control the situation; yet he let it slowly stream, and she felt like he wouldn’t say a word of what he thought. Because both of them were intensely hiding, all their lives, what their hearts language could say, but that only their eyes could really share.

He slowly reached for her hand, letting her the chance to step back. His were cold and she felt a shiver quietly breezing every atoms of her body.

“It’s 4 in the morning and you’re getting sleepy. You don’t mean what you say”, he breathed.

It’s true. She has the unfortunate tendency to act and feel drunk when she’s tired. But that couldn’t really interfere with her emotions, either then making them feel duplicated, but she always handled it.

“I know. I’d say yes at everything you’d ask me for. That’s concerning.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“It is.”

She decided that she’d look up into his eyes until he’d look away.

“But I like it.”

But he didn’t even flinch or not even close to, and she was about to give up when he gently stepped closer and cupped her cheek in his hand, his cold fingers on her warm skin like snowflakes.

“You do?”

The few inches gap between their faces was painful, and it was impossible to tell what he was doing. He was the orchestra director, and she was waiting for his next move to know what to do.

Her eyelids closed.

The time stopped when their lips connected.

He softly placed his other hand on her waist like he didn’t wanted her to go, and his other hand was holding her face like if she was made of glass.

Her heart was fluttering more than ever, but she was only focused on the body gap closing between them as he grabbed her waist. Their lips parted slightly, and she could feel his two hearts, also beating fast and unsynchronized.

“Why are you doing this to me,” he repeated in the kiss.

She got on her tip toes and put her arms around his neck and one hand in his hair (finally, she waited so long), and they were softer than she had thought.

This could have lasted forever, but he felt that she was getting out of breath and quietly pulled away.

They heavily breathed, enlaced, sharing each other’s the body warmth.

She kissed the time lord. She was in love with the serious, frowning man who looked so sad sometimes.

He kissed the earth girl. He felt his hearts melting for her, even if he tried to escape this fate.

She didn’t talk, she just embraced him and placed her head in the crook of his neck.

“You have such cold hands”

-

[nemaliwrites]

I would love the director's cut on

Mia instinctively reaches out and takes her hand, stopping her from doing so. She wishes she could say that it's mainly because she wants to help Iris feel better, but unfortunately, that isn't the entire story. The robes they wear are passed down from acolyte to acolyte. There are spirits woven into the cloth, into the thread. To desecrate the robes and destroy them would be to destroy their ancestors, so Mia has to stop Iris from doing so. If Iris knows what Mia is doing, she doesn't say anything about it either way.

from left behind! I love the flow of it from Mia to Iris with all that Fey history in the middle. Just lovely!

hehe i love rediscovering parts of my writing that i don't even remember! thank you for reminding me of the existence of left behind <3 since it was on frantic fanfic i think i wrote the whole thing in 9 minutes and never looked back LOL

it is No Surprise that i love the feys hehe and i think the specific lore i give to kurain changes from fic to fic, but the main idea remains the same. i like the thought of acolytes believing that spirits are all around them - in the plants, the air, the water, the house. it's a reminder of how inconsequential their own lives are - which can just as easily take a bad turn.

bc if the spirits are everywhere, when do you ever get a moment to yourself to just Breathe? they're everywhere, and that means they're inside you too. you are never belonging only to yourself. and i think that works with the way kurain and its cultures/traditions can just as easily be oppressive. it's no coincidence that most of the feys have left the village at one point or another.

i think...i touched on this in Words Are but Wind too but...i love the idea of kurain deifying spirits so much that they pay no mind to those who are actually alive. that Feys are only revered for their channeling ability but not what actually makes them Them. i think growing up with that knowledge - that you don't matter, that you are nothing but a vessel - can really Fuck You Up.

and this passage, too, is kind of like that. kurain is a plague, one that worms its way so deep that it never leaves. it is a spirit you forever channel. does mia actually care about the robes? probably not. does she even realize what she's doing? isn't she, just like the rest of the village, putting the dead above the living? she says she cares about iris and wants to take her pain away - but at this moment, the pain of the spirits is more important.

it's always interesting to me to see how the hold kurain has on everyone manifests when they leave the village. like, it would be easy to think that mia just completely turns her back on it. but...why does she still wear her magatama? do you think she ever takes pictures of herself, or does she still hold on to that belief that the vessel isn't nearly as important as the spirit?

and iris living at hazakura temple! did she feel like she was returning to something familiar, an old friend, or did it feel like walking back into the jaws of an animal that will never let you go? did dahlia feel like she was cutting herself loose? or does she, too, feel that ancestral guilt that's been coded into her over generations?

but of course, everything is just two sides of the same coin. the whole 'ancestors woven into the robes' thing can be good too! like that one scene in the anime where morgan puts maya in the box with mia's old robe, and she feels like she's having a great dream.

even morgan - does she genuinely want the position of master? or does she just think it's an honor because she was told so? so much of it is just a matter of opinion - but i constantly ask myself if the feys were ever able to form their own opinions, or if all they know is what was forced into them.

[jinxthejubilee]

Let's Talk About Venus' Name and Where It Came From!

Okay, look, I PROMISE that I'll talk about Slash eventually, but I just had another great idea for Venus!

Granted, this is not my original idea, I was inspired by mad_and_thick_as_thieves' story, "Light When All Grows Dark," on Ao3. If you guys haven't read it already, I highly suggest you do. It's only 3 chapters long and insanely adorable.

But back to business! The story had me thinking of other ways Venus could have gotten her name.

As most of you know, in The Next Mutation TV show where was introduced, "Mei Pi Chi" was renamed "Venus de Milo," after the famous Greek sculpture by Alexandros of Antioch. In what is the most indicative move to describe the series overall, in a show with action fighters who are named after famous Renaissance artists, the one female fighter is named after a statue. It's almost poetic in its laziness.

So, to help combat the inherent problems with her name, I've come up with a few suggestions to establish how and why she was named "Venus," and how it adds more to her character

Here's my suggestion:

Venus was found with no arms.

The primary explanation I've thought of is that the lab explosion had, unfortunately, blown off her arms.

That, or it could be a birth defect. But I feel like the lab explosion would make more sense. It's horrific, but it makes sense.

So, like the beautiful statue she is named after, a symbol of grace, beauty, and strength, the little turtle was named "Venus."

Or better yet, as a nod to The Next Mutation (shocking that I'm referencing it, I know), whoever found her as an infant named her "Mei Pi Chi", and once she meets the family and wishes to adopt a new name, she, the boys, and Splinter agree on "Venus."

Now, I saw someone in the comments of the story suggest that Donnie would make her cool robot arms, but I have a better idea.

In my own headcanoned origin for Venus, she was found after the lab's demolition, either by Big Mama, my yokai cat interpretation of Chung I, or another magically-in tuned yokai. Therefore, I propose that Venus would create floating arms/hands herself, made out of magic.

Kind of like our buddy Rayman here!

Except light blue and magic-y.

So yeah! Venus was trained to fight with magic despite having no arms. This would show how strong and determined she is to whatever she puts her mind to, despite how difficult it may be considering the circumstances.

Once they all meet up and Venus becomes closer to the family, I have no doubt that Donnie would want to convince her to give his robotic prosthetic arms a try, maybe having them infused with her magic. That'd be pretty cool!

Obviously, they wouldn't treat her differently just because of her disability, but they acknowledge it and try to help out if they can.

Since she had to learn how to balance herself, as having arms helps to stabilize your balance, she can do anything that everyone else can do. Even so, anyone would be surprised by how incredibly graceful she is.

Author's Note: I know this one was short, but as soon as I read that fanfic, the inspiration took a hold on me. Anyway, what do you guys think? Again, I'll get to Slash soon. I haven't forgotten about him.

But for now, thank you so much for reading! I hope you all have a great day, and I'll see you guys later! Byeee! 💗💗

[tinylilemrys]

Lonely In London

Relationship:

Trent Crimm/Ted Lasso

Additional Tags:

Angst and Romance | Romcommunism | Friends to Lovers | Romantic Comedy | Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Summary:

Henry, worried about how lonely his dad seems to be in London, writes into an advice podcast for some help. A podcast run by an ex-colleague of Trent's – one that he listens to religiously. If Trent falls a little for 'Lonely In London' because he reminds him of Ted, well that's just coincidence. An homage to romcommunism, largely based on 'Sleepless In Seattle' with a few others thrown in for good measure.

Next Chapter

A/N: I'm posting at least the first two chapters on Tumblr, because I have no idea when AO3 is going to be back on its feet and I know I'm looking for fanfic on here too. 💛

CHAPTER 1

It starts one relatively normal weekday in June. Henry is in the living room, with his iPad and new Richmond-branded headphones, a welcome-back-to-England gift from Jamie. Ted is a few feet away at the kitchen table, putting together his plan for the upcoming season.

He's not supposed to be working. Not yet. He's been ordered by Rebecca to take the month to focus on rest and spending as much time with Henry as possible. It's his reward for an incredibly hard-fought season.

Unfortunately Ted's never been one to take much of a break. Not when there was so much still to do.

If he's being honest, a lot of it has to do with Nate's betrayal. It stung then and it stings now and the only way Ted can think of dealing with it is by being better than they were last season. He wishes Nate all the best on his new adventure with West Ham, he really does, but it would be great to succeed in the face of Nate's spiteful turn.

He can't stop thinking about how it had cost Trent his job, and that, more than anything, makes Ted furious. The club would recover, but he could never go back to being Trent Crimm, The Independent.

His train of thought is interrupted by an excited shriek from Henry, who up until that point, Ted assumed was playing games on his iPad.

"Dad! Dad! Guess what? They used my question!" he yells, bounding up to his dad and handing him an earbud. Ted laughs, partly in confusion, partly because Henry is so earnestly excited.

"Whoa, hold on now, Bud. I'm gonna need you to take several steps back in this conversation so I have context." He pops the earbud in. "Who are you sending questions to?"

"It's this podcast called 'Help, I'm So Sad'," Henry explains. "They take questions from people who are sad and give them advice."

Ted's stomach plummets. Both he and Michelle knew it was a risk, having Henry come to London for the whole summer. The idea was to give Michelle a break to spend some time with Doc-- with her new boyfriend, while giving Ted some quality time with his son. Throw in the promise of one-on-one training with Henry's hero, Jamie Tartt, and it seemed like a solid plan, albeit one with the potential to go terribly wrong. Henry has never been away from home as long as that, and now, barely a month into his time here, it seems like Henry is so sad he had to write into a podcast about it.

"Oh, Henry," Ted manages to choke out when his breath returns to his lungs a bit. "I love that you're admitting you need help. That's a very important step that not even a lot of grownups get to. I just wish that you knew you could talk to me about these things too. What's got you so sad? Do you want to talk about it or do you just need a hug right now?"

"No, Dad, it's not for me." Henry giggles as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, and Ted feels some of the sensation come back to his hands. Maybe he's not a complete failure as a father after all. In fact, he's so relieved that his son isn't sad to the point of getting write-in advice about it, that the next sentence completely blindsides him. "I wrote to get advice for you."

Oh. Well. Shit.

"Now that was mighty thoughtful of you, Bud," he says, measuring his voice, trying not to panic. The earnest smile on his son's face tells him that all of this was done with the absolute best of intentions. He'll have to course correct on where the healthy boundaries are when it comes to personal struggles, but he can't rightly be mad at his son for something that was done out of kindness. "What did you write to them?"

"Listen," says Henry, scrubbing back a bit in the episode. Ted obeys, heart hammering against his ribcage, the foreboding bubbling up inside him, turning his stomach.

"Smidge," says a woman with a clipped English accent.

"Bits." says a voice in response.

"Lauren says we're going to love this next letter."

"Ooh, I'm listening," Her accent sounds Scottish. At least Ted won't struggle to tell their voices apart.

"It's from 'My Dad's Sad'… aged nine and a half."

Smidge gives a small squeak.

"Oh, we're not going to survive this, are we?" she says.

"Probably not," laughs Bits. "Okay here it goes. Dear HISS. My friend told me about this show. Her mom listens to it a lot, even though we're in America and you're in England. My dad is also in England, so I was hoping you would be able to give him some advice since you're right there.

"He's been very sad ever since him and my mom got divorced. My mom has a new boyfriend and they seem to be happy, but my dad is still sad. He says that he's happy with work and even though he has a really cool job that he's very good at, I can see that he isn't happy. He pretends to be and I think most of his friends at work think he is, but I know he isn't. Even though we still play catch and Minecraft and build LEGO like we used to, I can tell the whole time he's not enjoying it like he did before. He doesn't ever go out on dates or even talk to anyone except his work friends. I don't get to see him a lot, since I don't normally live in London with him, so I don't know how to help. How can I make my dad be happy again like he used to always be? Love, My Dad Is Sad, nine and a half."

"Oh bless him," says Smidge. "Well, My Dad Is Sad, I think in this case the only advice we can really give you is to talk to your dad about it. He probably doesn't know that seeing him unhappy is upsetting you as much as it is."

"Yeah, I agree," says Bits. "And maybe he hasn't given himself the permission to let the old times go yet. I know when my parents got divorced, my mum struggled a long time with letting go of what we used to be. She didn't date for ages afterwards because she said she didn't want to introduce too much change into my life, but it was really her excuse for not wanting to move on herself. And you know what, My Dad Is Sad? He sounds like a really good father even though you don't get to see him a whole lot. Sounds to me like if you talked to him about this, he would be willing to listen."

"Of course I would," says Ted, who has tears streaming down his face despite his best efforts to keep it together. He removes the earbud and pulls Henry into a tight hug. "Oh man, I didn't realise you were so worried about me, Champ."

"I try not to be," says Henry, and Ted can hear by the wobble in his voice that he's also crying. "I just wish things could be like they used to be."

"I know, I know. I do too," says Ted, rubbing Henry's back soothingly before pulling away to look him in the eyes. "But, hey, look, I need you to know that I am getting help, alright?. I have a great therapist who's helping me work through a whole bunch of things I've never ever thought to work through. Things I'll be able to explain to you properly when you're a bit older. So even though I might be sad now, and even though it might not ever go away completely, I want you to know I'm working on getting better, okay?"

"Okay," nods Henry. He wipes his arm across his eyes. "Sorry for crying so much."

"Hey now, ain't nothing wrong with a good cry," says Ted. "And in any case, I started it. So you don't get to be sorry about it even if you wanted to be."

"That's not how it works, Dad." Henry smiles a little and it's better than the sun peaking between the clouds on a rainy London day.

"Oh, shoot, you're so right." He slaps his forehead for comedic effect, this time even drawing a little giggle from his son.

I really do owe you so much, Kiddo, he thinks to himself.

"Look, would it count as a start if I wrote into these kind ladies to say thank you for the advice?" Henry nods enthusiastically and Ted laughs. "Well, that's settled then."

He saves and closes the report he was working on and opens his email.

"Dear Smidge and Bits," he says out loud as he types. "And Lauren too I guess…"

He begins typing up the email, Henry leaning against his shoulder until he gets bored and goes off to play on his iPad some more. Once he's sure that Henry's engrossed in his task again, Ted decides to give his letter a bit more context, so that they understand he's not a completely lost cause.

After reading and rereading the message again, he sends it off, taking a deep breath as it moves from his outbox to his sent folder. The afternoon sun is striping across the living room floor and Ted realises they've been too cooped up all day. It's time to head down to the Green for a kickaround.

"Hey, Bud, boot up. We're heading out."

***

It doesn't matter how many times Trent leaves Anabelle, it never gets any easier. She looks so genuinely distraught that he feels physically ill looking at her. She loves Shaun, Trent knows she does, but she's still so little, and he knows she doesn't understand what's happening to her. When Trent deposits her into her other father's arms and turns to leave, and she screams like she's being subjected to the deepest betrayal, Trent feels his heart break that little bit more.

After one last glance back at the house, where Shaun has finally managed to wrestle the door closed behind him and the screaming four-year-old, Trent sighs, sets his satnav from "Shaun's Place" to "Home" so he doesn't get lost, and reluctantly pauses the complete Bluey soundtrack. He's about to get going when he remembers that he's promised to text Ted that he's safely in Aberdeen.

He doesn't usually text Ted his whereabouts. It was all down to a chance encounter a few days ago out on the Richmond Green. He'd bumped into Ted and Henry kicking a football back and forth and when he explained that he was taking Anabelle to get her favourite ice-cream, Ted asked if he and Henry could tag along.

Trent wasn't about to find a reason to say no even if there was one.

Despite the growing pit of dread in his stomach at having to leave his daughter, he'd had a surprisingly good afternoon. While Henry and Anabelle had giggled together about whatever kids find funny at that age, Ted and Trent had talked about everything and nothing. About Trent's firing and Richmond's chances in the upcoming season. About Henry staying for the summer and about how it was Anabelle's other father's turn to take her. Trent could have spent all day there, but a huge chocolate-stained yawn from his daughter had told him it was time to say his farewells.

"Hey, I know we're not on best bud terms yet," Ted had said and Trent had smiled at the word 'yet'. Like it was an inevitability that they would be one day. "It's just I know it's a long drive to Aberdeen and it would set my mind at ease to know that you made it there safe."

"I'll text you when I get there," Trent had replied, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped at the idea that Ted was that concerned about his safety.

"I'd appreciate it, Mr Independent." Ted had offered the most devastating wink then, and Trent knew there was no way he wasn't going to do as promised.

It's nice to have a somewhat positive excuse to text him for a change. The past few texts back have all been Trent delivering bad news, including the latest one informing Ted that he'd accidentally locked his keys in his car. Okay, maybe that had been worse for him.

Hi, Ted – in Aberdeen safely. I'm just stopping at a service station to get a coffee and a bite to eat and then should be on my way back to London. Thanks again for your concern. Hope you're having a lovely Saturday with Henry.

By the time he gets to the nearest service station, there's a voice note waiting from Ted.

"Hey TC! Thanks for the message! Glad to hear you made it to Scotland safe. Hope you're holding up okay? I know it doesn't get any easier to let go of your kiddo, no matter how many times you do the handover. Holler if you want to talk about it. Or even if you want someone to take your mind off it. I have it on good authority that my ability to talk for hours about absolutely nothing is practically a superpower."

Trent gives a little huff of laughter at the direct quote from one of his Ted Lasso articles.

"At the very least, please let me know when you're back in London again, no matter what time of the night it is. Drive safe and I'll see you around."

He probably won't – not with Trent no longer covering AFC Richmond – but it's a lovely thought all the same. As is the idea that he has an offer to call Ted for the sake of just talking to him for a bit of company. He can't imagine working up the nerve to actually take him up on it, but it's fun to imagine.

He reacts to the message with a heart emoji, and then, panicking how that might come across, changes it to a sunflower instead. Friendly. Happy. Safe.

He really is such an idiot when it comes to Ted.

Fuelled up on coffee, an overpriced BLT, and, well, actual fuel, Trent loads up the latest episode of his friend's podcast and begins the long journey back to London.

He refers to Help, I'm So Sad as his friend's podcast, but he's not sure he could actually classify Lauren as a friend. Certainly, they were colleagues for many years and she was one of the people he hated the least. She worked in a different department, covering high society. Until one day as legend had it (Trent had been covering a match that day) she'd declared loudly to everyone in the cafeteria that she couldn't take it anymore, strode out of the building, and never came back.

Though he was convinced at the time that it was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard someone do to their career, he couldn't help but admire the nerve it must have taken. Now, with the hindsight of his own firing, it seems even cooler. He wishes he could have left The Independent with his head held high, instead of with his eyes on the carpet, trying to balance the embarrassment of his dismissal with the lack of regret he felt at treating Ted like a decent human being..

In any case, Trent finds her podcast quite entertaining and listens to it as often as he can. What better remedy for his own foul mood could there be than listening to other people's problems for an hour?

At first, it's not particularly effective. The voices seem to blend into the sound of rain beating against his windshield as Trent wonders if Anabelle has stopped crying by now. If Shaun's remembered to take out her favourite bath time toys. If he still remembers all the words to her special lullaby.

It's only the phrase 'My Dad Is Sad' that draws him out of his lull.

"…then we have an exciting follow up for you," says Bits. "My Dad Is Sad's sad dad reached out to the show after hearing his son's lovely little letter."

"Ohhhh my god," says Smidge. "I'm going to be a wreck."

So am I, thinks Trent. He'd cried at the kid's letter last episode.

"Well buckle up then," says Bits. "Sorry, listeners. This one's a little on the long side, but if you're anything like us, you won't care all that much. Here we go."

Bits starts reading the letter, and Trent, indeed, doesn't care that it's longer than normal because it's perfect.

Dear Smidge and Bits (and Lauren too, I guess)

He can't help but smile at Lauren being included.

I can't say I know much about your show, other than that my sweet boy decided you were the right people to talk to about my overwhelming sadness for the past few years. I have a smart kid, and I trust his judgement, so as such, I have to thank you for the kind advice you gave him.

I want it to be known that I am in therapy and I'm working on getting myself back up on my feet. There's a lot I've been struggling with that I didn't know I was struggling with, even beyond the divorce, and as I'm working through it, I'm starting to slowly return to myself. That's not to say I have it all figured out. More than anything I'm still trying to figure out how to be a good full-time dad when I only get a fraction of the time I want with my kid.

Trent's stomach does a little somersault. As silly and parasocial as he knows it is to feel things for a person who for all intents and purposes isn't real, he can't help but be taken by this man and the way he talks about getting better for his son's sake. It's why he'd insisted on couples therapy when he was still married. It's why he immediately found a therapist for both Anabelle and him after the split. After the disaster of Shaun, there's nothing Trent finds sexier than a man who's serious about his mental health.

And that's not even touching on my love life, the lack of which seems to be causing my kid a deal of concern. It's not for lack of trying. My job makes dating a little more complicated than it is for most folks and I realise that after 20 years of being in the same relationship, I don't have the game I once thought I did. I've been in a bit of a situationship with a lovely lady on and off for the past couple years and when I tried to shift it over into the relationship zone, I was soundly and correctly shut down.

"Sounds like a mistake to me, Ma'am," mutters Trent, chastising himself even as he does. He's being ridiculous. The man could be a serial killer for all he knows. She might have actually made an incredibly intelligent decision. He doesn't know and he shouldn't care.

Now, I have a crush on a guy that it would be way too complicated to date.

Bisexuality? Now that is a plot twist. And it's not doing anything to stop the surge of affection he feels for this random anonymous person.

Not between the two of us, mind. I think we'd get along like a house on fire. We do get on like a house on fire. But it would be a bit of a PR nightmare and I don't want to put our burgeoning friendship in the line of fire like that. For that reason, I've decided tamping down my romantical feelings so I can just focus on being his friend. I think it's something we both need.

That's pobably for the best, honestly. Trent has been witness to and involved in his own fair share of PR disasters throughout his career. It rarely ends well.

All that to say, as much as I'm working on getting better, I'm honestly still pretty lonely. It's not helped by being a fish out of water in a country that only just now seems to be warming to me. I guess if I could ask any advice from my own perspective, it would be: how do you start again and put yourself out there after 20 years of being so firmly off the market, you tried to believe the market didn't exist?

Sincerely,

Lonely in London.

Smidge and Bits immediately set about providing all the advice they can, but Trent isn't really paying attention anymore.

He feels for this man. He knows what it's like to be so lonely it aches. Even in his marriage, things had been so fraught that most nights he lay next to Shaun feeling like a shell. There was always something inside him reaching out for something life sustaining that he was fundamentally lacking – like lungs trapped underwater gasping for air.

And he knows firsthand how London exacerbates that feeling. People who'd sooner spit in your face than ask you how you're doing. Cold modern buildings that make you feel insignificant in comparison. Grimy old structures that remind you the city's history spans millennia and your story is barely a blip on the radar. The contrast of windows glowing gold at night against the icy blue of the streets, reminding you that there are people that don't feel the same crushing isolation.

And, sure, Anabelle is a lifeline against the crushing loneliness, but what is he supposed to do when she's an eight hour drive away? He can't even imagine being on a different continent to his child altogether.

This is how Lonely In London consumes his thoughts for hours. Trent finds himself scrubbing back in the episode to listen to the letter again, until he practically has it committed to memory, each time feeling a deeper connection to this complete stranger.

If this man is Lonely In London, he's Isolated in Islington, and he's never related to anyone more.

If you were being honest, a nasty voice says in his head at about the four hour mark, you would admit that the reason you feel like you fancy this guy is because he reminds you of Ted.

With that final unhelpful thought, Trent knows it's time to change the subject. He finds one of his old faithful football podcasts and decides he won't spend another second more thinking about Lonely In London or Ted Lasso, even when he's brought up in discussions about Richmond's chances this season.

It's almost two in the morning when he finally gets back to his flat. He's too tired to even change out of his clothes, instead collapsing face-first onto his bed and toeing off his shoes over the side. He's about to let himself slip off to sleep when he remembers he promised Ted he'd text him when he got home. Groggily, he picks up his phone and types a quick message.

Home safe. Smooth drive home. Thanks again for the concern. Sleep well.

It's barely a minute later when his phone buzzes. Did Ted wait up for him?

Glad to hear you're home in one piece. Sleep tight, Trent Crimm. 🌻

It's only the next morning that he fully notices the sunflower and decides that with Ted Lasso around, perhaps London is a little less lonely than it used to be.

Next Chapter

[summerwritesfics]

🎇📖The Sky Is Falling On Me, Chapter 1 - Where The Veil Came Crumbling Down

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang Length: 6577 Words Rating: Mature Warnings: Magic/Fantasy AU, Mages, Anxiety, Isolation, Codependency, Elemental Magic, Mentions of onesided Sektor/Kuai Liang, Panic Attacks, Threats of Violence, Referenced Kidnapping 10 Prompts Tropes: Magic AU

The Sky Is Falling On Me Masterlist - 10 Prompts Masterlist

Notes: It’s been a hot minute since I last posted, and I don’t even have one of those wild AF stories to put in these author’s notes. Sad times. I have some requests from a giveaway to work on, but I had this first chapter almost complete and I figured I’d bang it out before starting the requests and actually make a start on at least one of the many many fanfic challenges I’ve signed myself up for lol. Fic title is from “A Rose For Epona” by Eluveitie, and the chapter title is from “Inis Mona” also by Eluveitie (one of my favourite bands so y’know lmao, amazed I haven’t used their lyrics before tbh.)

Kuai did not like coming into town.

He didn’t particularly get along with many of the townsfolk, they found how quiet and awkward he was off-putting, apparently. He preferred to stay on the farm, tending to the animals and staying far away from other humans. Usually he let Bi-Han deal with people, the only ones Kuai had regular interactions with outside of his brother were Tomas, Cyrax and Sektor. Even they didn’t know the truth about him, believing Kuai was just extremely anxious as the result of his sheltered upbringing.

It’d been drilled into him at a young age that no one could ever know about his magic.

Kuai had trouble regulating himself, it was part of why he was still so isolated as an adult. One wrong move and it was all over for him. So when Bi-Han requested Kuai take some apples to Cyrax, he had immediately declined. But Bi-Han had been insistent, and now Kuai was walking into the centre of town with a backpack full of ripe apples.

He kept his head low, trying to avoid people as much as possible. Although thankfully, everyone seemed to be distracted by something other than the rare appearance of the towns recluse. He was curious, gaze following where others landed.

Sektor was walking down the street with a man Kuai didn’t recognise. Whoever he was, he was wearing a very fancy looking robe, so it was likely he was one of Sektor’s high class contacts. That didn’t explain why people were stopping to crowd around them. It wasn’t uncommon to have a visiting Lord or Lady, however it never usually caused a commotion, especially not one like this.

Still, whatever the reason, Kuai wanted to keep out of Sektor’s way. He unfortunately had no choice in most of his interactions with him, given Sektor’s family did technically own the land the town was on. Still there was something about the way Sektor looked at Kuai that made his skin crawl, like a wolf staring down a rabbit.

He turned away to make his way over to Cyrax’s little store, hoping to drop the apples off and get out of town as quickly as possible. When Cyrax spotted him, he immediately broke into a large grin, and Kuai couldn’t help but return it.

“Well, well, well, it’s rare to see you out and about,” Cyrax teased, only laughing when Kuai groaned. “I take it Bi-Han didn’t wish to grace me with his presence hm?”

“No, he was weirdly insistent on me giving you the apples,” Kuai replied, slipping the backpack off his shoulders and handing it to Cyrax.

“Probably because he owes me money.” Cyrax took the backpack off Kuai and placed it on his table, opening it up and taking a look at the goods.

“Again?” It wasn’t unusual for Bi-Han to owe various people money, but it seemed to be happening more often as of late. “Are we having money troubles? He doesn’t tell me anything about these sorts of things.”

Cyrax smiled at him, but it had such an air of sadness to it. He didn’t say anything, or explain his expression. He didn’t even answer Kuai’s question.

No one ever seemed to answer Kuai’s questions.

“Anyway, what’s going on today? Why is everyone so enchanted by that man with Sektor?” Maybe his queries on his brother’s finances wouldn’t be answered, but he might get one regarding the mysterious stranger visiting the town.

“From what I hear he’s an Archmage,” Cyrax explained and Kuai felt his heart stop at that. An Archmage? Here? What could an Archmage possibly want from this town? “Apparently Sektor’s family is trying to do a deal with him.”

Kuai felt himself relax a little at that. If he was here for a deal with Sektor it was unlikely he was here because of Kuai’s secret. His cover hadn’t been blown, and he was safe. Presumably. Kuai couldn’t let his guard down, he had to make sure to keep everything contained, now it was more important than ever.

“Speaking of,” Cyrax quietly muttered and Kuai looked over his shoulder just in time to see Sektor and the Archmage. Kuai felt himself shrink slightly. He’d wanted to avoid Sektor in the first place, but he would definitely preferred to to avoid the Archmage too.

“Cyrax, Kuai Liang,” Sektor greeted to each of them. Kuai instinctively put his hands behind his back, he often did that to hide when he lost control. “This is Archmage Hasashi, he will be in town for a couple of weeks, and I expect everyone to show him the heights of our hospitality.”

“Of course,” Cyrax replied cooly, before bowing to Archmage Hasashi. “It is a honour.”

Kuai kept his hands behind his back as he also bowed, quietly adding “welcome, Archmage Hasashi.”

When he straightened out, he realised Hasashi was staring at him. He had a single eyebrow raised, but the look in his eye was scarily intense. It felt like he was trying to look straight into Kuai’s soul. Kuai could feel his hands grow colder and he swallowed thickly. Need to keep control. Need to keep control.

“I-Is there something wrong, Archmage Hasashi?” Kuai asked, clenching his fists and trying to stop anything from accidentally erupting from them.

“Kuai Liang, was it?” Hasashi asked, his eyes sweeping Kuai up and down. Kuai swallowed, completely unable to decipher what Hasashi was thinking while looking at him. It was really putting him on edge.

“Yes, Sir,” Kuai replied, resisting the urge to look away from Hasashi’s gaze. Kuai bit his lip, it was like Hasashi was searching for an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked. Does he know? Kuai had never met an Archmage before, or even just another Mage, he wasn’t sure if they had ways of knowing those with magic in their veins.

“And you live in the town?” Hasashi’s brow knitted together as his eyes narrowed and his head tilted. Kuai could feel his hands growing colder. Need to keep control. Need to keep control.

“Yes. Uh, well the outskirts,” Kuai explained, flexing his fingers, desperate to warm his hands up. “My brother and I run the farm.”

“I see.” Hasashi seemed to stand a little straighter, and Kuai hadn’t realised he was leaning forward. “Interesting,” he muttered, so quiet Kuai was sure he hadn’t intended anyone to hear it. What does that mean? Interesting? Why does he think our farm is interesting?

“I- uh-“ One of his fingers began to ice over and he began flexing his fingers again to break it. No. No. I need to keep control. No one can know. That’s what Father always said. No one. “I’m- You-“

“Archmage Hasashi, Kuai Liang is an anxious person,” Cyrax suddenly cut in, walking around the table to where Kuai was. As he got close, he placed a hand on Kuai’s shoulder. Kuai kept moving his fingers, desperate to keep anymore ice from forming. “Your line of questioning is causing him distress.”

That comment seemed to take Hasashi aback, as his eyes widened and his mouth dropped. Beside him, Sektor looked like he was barely holding back his anger at Cyrax stepping in like that. Kuai actually could understand why. It was a statement, not an accusation, and one towards someone Sektor was hoping to do business with.

“My apologies.” Hasashi bowed to Kuai, an action that actually made Kuai pause a little. “It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

No one had ever really apologised for making him uncomfortable before. Smoke and Cyrax both had an unspoken understanding for when Kuai was overwhelmed, resulting in them leaving him to his own devices until he’d calmed down. They never needed to apologise, because Kuai knew already they didn’t mean it. Hasashi however? Who hadn’t known and who Kuai didn’t know if that was his intention? That was new.

“I-I- Well- Um.” Kuai didn’t know what to say, glancing at Cyrax and hoping maybe he’d be able to translate his desperate stuttering.

“It’s okay, you weren’t to know,” Cyrax filled in, patting Kuai on the back a couple of times. Kuai felt the tension in his shoulders begin to relax. “Just, try to be a bit more gentle with him.”

“Right,” Hasashi agreed, slowly nodding his head, though still looking a little shocked. “Of course, again, my apologies.” He quickly turned to Sektor and added, “maybe it would be best we move on.”

“Maybe,” Sektor replied, as he gave both Kuai and Cyrax a scathing look. Kuai flinched despite himself. “Let us go to the next stall.”

Hasashi turned to follow Sektor, though not before giving Kuai one last lingering look. When his eyes were finally torn away, Kuai felt a shudder down his spine. There was something about him that had caught Hasashi’s attention, and Kuai really didn’t want to know what it was.

“That was weird,” Cyrax said under his breath and Kuai chuckled, relieved that the odd behaviour was apparent to someone else as well.

“It was weird, wasn’t it?” Kuai finally moved his hands from behind his back. Without Hasashi in his vicinity he felt a lot more at ease, and less likely to loose control of himself. “What do you think it was about?”

“No idea.” Cyrax shook his head, finally moving from Kuai to go back around to his stall. “Maybe it’s best you stay on the farm for a few days regardless. His behaviour was… Concerning.”

“Wish I could.” Kuai gave a half hearted smile. “If Bi-Han owes you money, it’s likely he owes others too. Meaning he’s going to send me as the buffer for the next few days.”

Cyrax grimaced and added, “good point.” His gaze went over to one of the other stalls, and when Kuai followed it he saw it was where Hasashi and Sektor now were. “Still, I’d try and stay away from him if I were you.” Kuai turned back to Cyrax, his face was tight as he continued to look on. “If I’m reading the way he was looking at you right, I think him and Sektor are going to find making a deal extremely hard.”

Kuai paused at that. He understood the implication, just wasn’t sure he agreed with it. Hasashi was definitely looking at him strangely, but it was nowhere near the same way Sektor looked at him. Sektor looked at him with hunger in his eyes, a possessive wanting, knowing that as long as Bi-Han lived, he’d never get to get what he longed for. Hasashi was looking at him more with curiosity and knowing, like he’d looked straight through Kuai and saw all his deepest and darkest secret’s he’d tried so hard to hide.

By the God’s, Kuai hoped he hadn’t.

“Anyway,” Cyrax continued, reaching to grab a small bag, “here’s the coin for the apples, tell Bi-Han he can deduct it from his debt.”

“Thank you.” Kuai smiled and accepted the bag, although internally he was struggling. This many apples would be about 200 coins, how much does Bi-Han owe if this is just a deduction? “I’ll make sure Bi-Han repays what he owes you.”

“You have my thanks for even trying.” Cyrax bowed to him. “Have a good day, Kuai Liang.”

“You too.”

And with that Kuai turned to leave, money in hand. He didn’t care to stick around longer, lest he run into Hasashi again. He weaved through the whispering crowds, although for once those hushed tones were not about him. As he approached the street he would need to go down to get back to the farm, he looked over his shoulder and surveyed the town square.

From the opposite end, he could see Hasashi staring straight at him.

He almost choked as he began to sprint away, feeling his fingertips begin to ice over. Whatever Hasashi thought he saw, there was no way in hell Kuai could let him get to the truth.

I need to keep control, no one can know, that’s what Father said.

That’s what Father said.

No one can ever know.

Sektor had been extremely adamant that this town had no Mages.

Hanzo was always interested in meeting with fellow Mages when he visited neighbouring towns. His status as an Archmage meant that many Lesser Mages saw him as guide, someone who’s wisdom would be of uttermost importance, and although it felt egotistical, Hanzo enjoyed being viewed that way. He liked the questions, the need for advice, being seen as a figure to be revered.

Thus he had been extremely disappointed when he had been informed that the small town of Lin Kuei had none.

Not as disappointed as he was when he realised he’d been lied to.

Lesser Mages were generally not as at one with the magic inside themselves and others. Two Mages could walk down the street without knowing the other was one of them. Archmages however, were specifically taught to be able to sense magic. It helped to identify Mages, and if the magic was particularly strong, find candidates to join the Archmages.

So the second he sensed magic, he knew that Sektor had lied to him.

It had been faint at first, making him believe it was a child. But as the feeling got stronger, he realised how wrong he was. The magic was fully formed, and not just that, it was strong. As it grew, he knew he had to find the source.

He did not realise just how strong the magic was until he was face to face with Kuai Liang.

The magic within Kuai Liang was easily equal to the majority of Archmages that Hanzo had spent his life around. In fact, if he were to be honest and not care for a bruised ego, he’d say Kuai was stronger than even him. But it was also wild, and completely untrained. That made Kuai extremely dangerous. Hanzo had barely even confronted Kuai, and he could feel that magic loosing control. It was ready to seep through the seams, and if Kuai didn’t have enough control, people could be hurt.

Which brought him to his most pressing question; why had he been lied to?

Given the deal the Zhou family was trying to strike with the Archmage of the Shirai Ryu, it would make sense to be completely truthful about any Mages living within the town. Unless, of course, they were not aware themselves. How Kuai would have been able to keep this secret for so long, Hanzo didn’t know. The mention of living on the outskirts might explain it if he didn’t come into the centre that often. And him having a brother? Was the brother also a Mage in hiding or was he just trying to hide Kuai?

He needed to do more investigation.

The day after their fateful meeting, Hanzo found the chance to start doing just that. The Zhou family had other things to attend to, so Hanzo could roam the town as he pleased. He tried to not ask anyone directly about Kuai, he knew that would seem suspect. Instead he asked about the town, and rumours or outliers that might potentially effect his deal with the Zhou’s.

It took some time, and a lot of listening to gossip he didn’t really care for, that someone finally gave him info he wanted.

“Well, there is Bi-Han and Kuai Liang,” a woman said, her brow furrowing as she looked around like she didn’t wish for anyone to overhear her.

“I believe I met Kuai Liang yesterday,” Hanzo replied, trying to not sound as eager for information on him as he was. “I do not know who Bi-Han is.”

“He’s Kuai Liang’s elder brother.” Ah, so Bi-Han was the brother’s name. Interesting. “They live on and run the farm on the outskirts of town and they’re…” The woman paused, mouth open as she took a deep breath. “They’re very strange.”

“I noticed Kuai Liang seemed extremely anxious.” And that was an understatement. He had looked terrified of Hanzo.

“To be honest, most of us didn’t even know Kuai Liang existed until he was an adult.” What? “It was only after the brother’s father died that we became aware of him. For some reason, his father almost completely isolated him. Bi-Han is a lot less strict, but he is still um… I guess controlling is the best way to put it. He rarely let’s Kuai leave the farm, and even when he does, it’s like there is some sort of invisible leash meaning he can’t stray for too long.”

That all seemed incredibly concerning. The only thing that sprung to Hanzo’s mind was that Kuai’s father did not know how to handle a Mage, so kept Kuai isolated to hide him away. His brother was just following suite. That felt off though, usually Mages with magic as strong as Kuai’s were born of Mage parents. If that were the case, his father would know to teach Kuai at least the basics of control. He couldn’t imagine any Mage to be so careless as to not do that, but he couldn’t rule it out just yet.

“Then there is Sektor’s, uh, affections for Kuai Liang,” the lady continued, her voice dropping like she was scared the man in question would come up behind her. “He thinks he has hidden his desires, but it’s clear to everyone that he… Well… Wants Kuai Liang.”

“As a spouse?” Hanzo wanted to make sure he was getting the information right, and the woman nodded. “If his family are so powerful, what is stopping him from taking what he desires?”

“Bi-Han.” This was stated with such certainty that it almost took Hanzo off guard. “That man would never allow anyone to take his brother like that, even if they technically own this town.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “To be honest, I think Sektor is just biding his time, hoping and waiting for Bi-Han to die so there’s no one left between Kuai and him.”

“And what exactly does Kuai Liang want in all this?” Most people wouldn’t say no to marrying someone of such money and standing, but most people didn’t make all. And in all this conversation, it seemed to focus on Sektor and Bi-Han’s wants, and nothing on what Kuai would like.

“I don’t know to be honest, his skittish nature makes him very hard to read.” Well, that was definitely true. “I think he just goes along with what Bi-Han wants. If Bi-Han died, I could see him latching onto Sektor just so he has someone to tell him how to think and feel.”

“Could you give me directions to the farm? I think I’d like to visit, if I can.” His initial confusion at Kuai hiding his powers was now replaced with concern. With someone so isolated, nothing good could be happening on that farm.

“If you follow that street, you’ll find a path through the woods.” The woman pointed towards the street in question. “Just keep going down that path and you will eventually come to the farm.” She snorted and paused, “although good luck, Bi-Han is not exactly fond of visitors.”

“That is fine, I’m sure I can find some common ground.” The woman did not look convinced, but bowed respectfully and turned to be on her way.

Hanzo, on the other hand, had a farm to find.

Kuai hummed as he picked a mushroom and put it in the basket. Mushroom picking was about the closest he got to leaving the farm as a child. The people of the town rarely came into the woods, so he wasn’t at risk of awkwardly running into people.

So when he heard a twig snap, he figured it was probably just an animal. He ignored it, deciding he’d throughly gathered all the mushrooms he could find. As he stood up to return back to the path, he jumped when he realised he saw a humanoid figure in his way.

He felt panic well in his throat when he realised it was Archmage Hasashi.

“Hello again,” Hasashi greeted, a strange lopsided smile on his face. “Sorry, I did not mean to scare you, I appear to be making a habit of that.”

“I- It’s okay?” Kuai didn’t mean that to sound like a question. His hands gripped the basket tightly. What is he doing here? Why is he so far out of the town?

“I’m glad I ran into you actually,” Hasashi continued, either oblivious to Kuai’s discomfort or disregarding it entirely. “I’ve had a day to myself, so I thought I’d familiarise myself with the surrounding area, including your family’s farm.”

Why? This was suspicious, no one except Sektor, Tomas and Cyrax ever came out to the farm. Bi-Han chased most people off. Kuai had no doubt there would be no exception for Hasashi, regardless of who he was. Still Kuai couldn’t find it in him to argue, that got stuck in his throat unable to escape.

“Oh,” was all he managed to get out. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to guide Hasashi to the farm. Then once they got their Bi-Han would chase him off. “Um. I was just heading back.”

“May I accompany you?” The question was strange to Kuai, because it was clear Hasashi was going to do that regardless of his answer.

“Of course, Archmage Hasashi,” Kuai replied. Gingerly he approached the other man, feeling strange when he realised Hasashi’s gaze never left him. As he headed back towards the path, Hasashi turned to follow beside him. Kuai felt awkward, not sure what exactly he should do or say. Small talk was not something he did a lot, but he supposed he could try. “So… How are you finding the town?”

“Delightful,” Hasashi answered brightly, almost like he was glad that Kuai would ask such a question. “The locals have been so helpful.”

The emphasis on helpful was strange, but again, Kuai found he couldn’t call Hasashi out on it.

“Kuai Liang, how much do you know about the Archmages?” Was this small talk still? This felt very specific.

“I… Do not know much I’m afraid, Archmage Hasashi,” Kuai admitted. He really didn’t know a lot about them, except that if they knew about him, they would take him away. His Father had made sure that Kuai would never have any involvement with them. It was unfortunate he was no longer here to keep Hasashi away.

“I see,” Hasashi muttered, taking a deep breath, like what he was going to say next was the hardest thing he was ever going to say. “Then you are not aware that we are trained to be able to sense the magic of others?”

Kuai stopped walking. He stopped breathing. Everything just stopped. All he could do was stare at Hasashi. The other man was extremely calm, just looking at Kuai expectantly. But Kuai could do nothing. He almost thought he’d lost control and frozen himself, but a glance down told him he was ice free.

No one can know, that’s what Father said.

“With that in mind,” Hasashi continued, tilting his head as he folded his arms in front of his chest, “is there anything you wish to tell me?”

No, no, no, no, this can’t be happening.

“No one can know, that’s what Father said,” Kuai automatically blurted out, watching how Hasashi blinked and did a double take at that.

“Kuai Liang.” Hasashi took a step forward, reaching his hand out.

“No one can know, that’s what Father said,” Kuai repeated, beginning to back away, hiccuping as he felt his face growing hot. “No one can know.”

“Please, calm down, I don’t-“

“No one can know!” Kuai screeched, stomping his foot down and watching as several shards of ice erupted out of the ground below it. The loud gasp from Hasashi was drowned out by the blood pulsing in Kuai’s ears. “No, no, no.” He tried to take another step back, but stumbled down onto the floor. “No one can know.”

“Ice,” Hasashi whispered, staring at the shard pointed towards his face. He reached to touch it, looking at it in both wonder and shock. “Cryomancy.” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “You’re a Cryomancer.”

“P-Please,” Kuai sobbed. He’d messed up badly. Not only had he revealed himself, he’d revealed himself to an Archmage. Hasashi was going to whisk him away and he’d never see Bi-Han, Tomas or Cyrax again. “Please, n-no one can know…”

That’s what Father said.

“Kuai Liang, it’s okay, calm down.” Hasashi crouched down in front of Kuai, placing a hand on Kuai’s shoulder while the other cupped Kuai’s chin. Kuai resisted the urge to tear his head away. “I’m not going to tell anyone about this.” Kuai wasn’t sure he believed that, but Hasashi said it with such conviction it was hard to not just trust his word. “But I do need to talk to you about this.”

“I- I- No one…” Kuai trailed off, because no one was supposed to know, but now someone did.

“I know. No one was supposed to know.” The hand that hand been on Kuai’s shoulder was next on Kuai’s head, fingers carding through his hair as Hasashi stroked him. “But I do know now, and that’s not your fault. You tried, your family can not be angry at you for this.” Hasashi didn’t know Bi-Han. Big Brother was going to be fuming over this. “We need to talk. Let’s get back to your farm, okay?”

Kuai blinked, tears rolling down his cheeks. He had no choice now did he? At least if Hasashi did take him, it seemed he might let Kuai have the chance to say goodbye to Bi-Han. Hasashi reached for Kuai’s hands, and Kuai realised his fingers were icing over. Fire came from Hasashi’s hands and Kuai flinched. The flames did not hurt him however, just melted the ice forming on his hands.

“Come, please.” Hasashi pulled Kuai up to his feet. He reached down to pick up Kuai’s basket, before gently leading Kuai down the path.

All Kuai could do was let himself be pulled over to the farm, while internally he agonised on how the hell he was going to explain himself.

It seemed Kuai’s brother was off tending to something when they got to the farm.

In a way, Hanzo was glad about that. It meant he had a bit of time to talk to Kuai alone. He realised how he’d brought things up was not the best way. He hadn’t anticipated Kuai’s reaction to be so strong, or for him to be quite that afraid of someone finding out. What the hell has his family told him to make him so terrified like that?

Despite this not being his house, Hanzo found himself in the kitchen, fixing up a cup of tea for himself and Kuai. His host was still shaken however, occasionally muttering about how no one could know and about his father. With the tea in his hand, Hanzo placed one cup in front of Kuai, while he took a seat opposite. Kuai stared down at the cup, rather than making eye contact with Hanzo.

“I need to ask you some questions now. Please answer them truthfully,” Hanzo began, watching Kuai clench his fist. The magic inside him was raging, and Hanzo could see flakes begin to form around Kuai’s knuckles. How little control he had was growing more concerning, but that could wait. “You are a Mage, are you not?”

Kuai was silent, looking like he was debating how to actually reply, before he miserably just said “yes.”

“Were either your mother or father Mages?” He asked. Magic generally was passed down through families, although it was entirely possible for non-Mages to give birth to mage’s and vice visa. Generally Mages who were born of two Mage parents were the ones powerful enough to be Archmages. Hence he needed to know if that was the case with Kuai Liang.

“No,” Kuai replied, finally moving his hand to grip the cup. Not to drink, Hanzo had a feeling he was trying to use it to heat up his hands and deal with the ice.

“I asked you to be honest with me,” Hanzo warned lowly, watching the way Kuai flinched at the tone being used with him.

“I am,” he croaked. “Neither of my parents had magic.”

Then, maybe Hanzo’s initial suspicion of Kuai’s Father not knowing how to handle him was right. It would have been even worse with a mage of Kuai’s magnitude.

“What about your brother? Is he a Mage?” This situation was unusual already, Hanzo figured he might as well cover all his bases.

“No. It’s just me.” Kuai sounded so dejected, and Hanzo’s heart broke for him. He should have been amongst other Mages, learning to harness his powers for the good of everyone. He shouldn’t have been alone and left to deal with this thing he didn’t understand.

“Why did your Father tell you no one could ever know about your magic?” He needed to know what excuse the man gave.

“He said the Archmages would take me away.” Kuai’s eyes lifted slightly, looking at Hanzo with very thinly veiled contempt. He was clearly still expecting this to happen. “He said they’d take me, and I’d never see my family again.”

Hanzo wanted to refute that point. The Archmages hadn’t forcefully taken children in a long time. Granted, it was something that used to happen, back in the days of old, but they had stopped many years ago.

But… Kuai Liang is a Cryomancer.

That single fact gave Hanzo a sinking feeling that the Archmages would indeed have taken Kuai away from his family.

“Cryomancy has long believed to be extinct,” Hanzo began to explain. He wasn’t sure if confirming Kuai’s fears was the best idea, but he couldn’t lie to the poor man either. “While the Archmages have long since stopped the abduction of Mage children, in your case, I will concede your Father’s fears were valid.” Kuai’s head snapped up, his teeth bared and eyes wide. “No new Cryomancer has been born in several generations. You are the first in a long long time. The Archmages would have wanted to ensure your survival and skill.”

And, most likely, would have hoped Kuai would eventually reintroduce Cryomancy into Mage bloodlines. That concept made Hanzo’s skin crawl. The Archmages had come a long way since the old days, but there were still ways they needed to improve.

“I- I don’t understand,” Kuai whispered, ice now snaking from his hands and onto the cup he was holding. The heat seemed to be doing nothing for it. “Are you saying I’m…”

Kuai stopped talking as his face screwed up.

“I’m saying you are the only one of your kind, yes,” Hanzo finished for him. He watched Kuai’s reaction closely. His breathing was growing heavier, and his lip was quivering slightly. “On top of that, the strength of your magic. It is enough that you could be an Archmage yourself.”

“No.” Kuai shook his head firmly, his mouth tight. “No, that’s not possible. I don’t have any control, I’m not that powerful.”

“Having control and how powerful your magic is are not the same thing,” Hanzo explained. Kuai shook his head again. “Kuai Liang, the reason you always feel so overwhelmed by your powers is because they are so immense.” It had taken Hanzo years of intense training to get his powers under control. The fact Kuai had any control at all was nothing short of a miracle. “If you had been raised amongst other Mages rather than being kept in isolation, you would not have as much trouble as you do.”

“So you think they should have taken me?” Kuai spat, and the amount of vitriol made Hanzo do a double take. “My Father was right. The Archmages are just pompous know-it-all’s who think they know what’s best when they know nothing at all.”

Hanzo watched as the ice spread across the table, and he quickly realised if he did not want this to escalate into a physical fight he was going to have to try and calm him down.

“That isn’t what I meant,” Hanzo tried to say as softly as he could. He could feel Kuai’s magic threatening to break through, engulfing everything unfortunate to be too close. “I just meant if you had been allowed to be more open about your powers, you would have had access to help and companionship.” The ice slowly cracked as it spread further. “You wouldn’t have had to be alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Kuai hissed, a loud snap as he clenched his fist and broke the ice surrounding it. “I had my father and brother. I had Tomas and Cyrax. I was not on my own.”

“But none of them are Mages.” He wasn’t sure how to explain that the companionship between Mages would always be different than between a Mage and Non-Mage. “None of them understand what you are going through.” He attempted to reach a hand over to place one on Kuai’s, but the other man yanked his arm back so hard Hanzo actually flinched back in his seat. “I do though, Kuai Liang. And I want to help you.”

“You don’t understand anything!” Kuai slammed his fist down on the table, and as he did a large burst of energy emerged from him.

Hanzo engulfed himself in flame, hoping maybe it would prevent him getting encased in ice. He stilled for a moment, other than the rush of the fire surrounding him, all he could hear where the ragged sobs of Kuai. He extinguished the fire, looking around, the entire room was encased in a thick layer of ice. Disturbingly, the ice facing Hanzo was jagged, and while the ones closest to him had the tips melted off, it was clear they had been sharp and would have easily pierced through his flesh. His fire shield had been his saviour from having an icicle through his skull.

Hanzo needed to get Kuai to trust him, because like this?

Kuai was a risk to both himself and everyone around him.

“Kuai Liang, I-“

He was cut off when he heard a door slam open and a pair of footsteps rush towards the room.

“What the fuck just hap-“ a man stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, his face dropping as he surveyed the room before him. It was obvious this was Bi-Han, given how eerily similar to Kuai Liang he looked. At least he now had no doubt Kuai wasn’t lying about his brother not having magic, he could feel absolutely nothing from the other man.

Bi-Han’s eyes landed on Kuai Liang, who was still crying into his hands.

And like that he snapped into action.

He was across the room and pulling Kuai close to him within the time it took Hanzo to blink. Kuai was still too upset to coherently explain what was going on. His buried his head into Bi-Han’s side, as if to hide his face. Then Bi-Han’s attention was on Hanzo.

By the Gods, Hanzo had never seen someone look at him with such pure hatred before.

“Who the fuck are you and what did you do to him?” Bi-Han demanded, his grip on Kuai tightening.

“My name is Archmage Hanzo Hasashi and-“

He had no way to finish that sentence before Bi-Han was pulling out a knife strapped to his thigh and pointing it in Hanzo’s direction.

“You will not take him,” Bi-Han snarled, clutching the knife so hard his knuckles were going white. “I will not let you.”

“I do not wish to take him,” Hanzo tried, pushing himself to stand up. Bi-Han kept the knife trained on him the entire time.

“Like hell you don’t.” It was no wonder Kuai had so much fear of being taken away, if this was how his family had always reacted.

“I only wish to help him.”

The reply he received was Bi-Han spitting in his general direction. He wasn’t going to get anywhere like this. Maybe if he called it a day, allowed the brothers to calm down, he’d have a better chance at getting through to them how much Kuai needed help.

“I can see that this has caused a great deal of distress to you both,” Hanzo claimed, holding his hands up in front of him. He had hoped it would show he was surrendering, but given that Bi-Han manoeuvred so he was now shielding Kuai with his entire body, it clearly hadn’t come across that way. “While I do still need to talk more, I can see that for now, conversation is not an option.”

“What is there to talk about?” Bi-Han growled. “You are not taking him from me, end of discussion. There is nothing more to be said.” He slashed the knife at the air, before pointing it back at Hanzo. “And know, Archmage, if you dare try, I will fight until my last breath, and slit the throats of every one of your infernal order whose foolish enough to attempt it.”

The reality was, Bi-Han would be long dead before he could get close to any Archmage to slit their throat. Somehow, pointing this fact out seemed counterproductive.

“I will allow you both to calm down, and then maybe we can have a more civil discussion.” He moved around the table to head towards the doorway. He glanced back at the brothers. Kuai was peering around his elder brother, eyes full of a hazy mix of emotions, between contempt, terror and relief. Hanzo sighed and added, “I am sorry, Kuai Liang, I know this is upsetting for you, but this is not something I can just walk away from.”

Kuai did not reply, just bowed his head and pushed into Bi-Han’s side again. Speaking of, the look in the elder’s eyes, told Hanzo if he didn’t get out now, he was going to end up with that knife in his head.

He turned, walking away and letting himself out of the farmhouse’s front door. He didn’t stop to contemplate anything, just continued to walk down to path and back to the town.

This was going to be far harder than he could of ever anticipated, and he needed to consider his next actions carefully if he hoped to get any positive results. Most importantly, he could not alert the other Archmages to the situation just yet. Knowing them, they’d go in with little thought and make Kuai leave by force. Given how intermeshed the two brother’s appeared, suddenly separating Kuai from Bi-Han would cause him to shut down completely. At the same time, Bi-Han’s possessive attitude was going to be a major obstacle in all of this. “You are not taking him from me”, that’s what Bi-Han said, wasn’t it? Like a child being threatened with having his favourite toy confiscated from him. He was sure if it were not for Bi-Han’s influence over his brother, gentle persuasion would eventually work on Kuai, but it was getting him away long enough to cut the threads that kept them tied together.

And if he cut the wrong thread, he ran the risk of completely destroying any chance Kuai Liang had at living a more normal life.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

≛❀≛ Next Chapter ⋟

[flowercrowngods]

✍️ 🚀 💛🎯🎨 I WANT🙈

thank you darling, you want and you shall receive!! 🤍

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

that depends! for floaty or angsty one shots, the ideal setup is either me in bed or in the bathroom with my back against the heater, a phone with a functioning (!!!) keyboard, and a clock with the time way past midnight :p unfortunately, the functioning keyboard part is the reason i've not really been able to write lately :/

for chaptered fics, i don't have an ideal setup. just need my laptop and a good ol' helping of either spite or manic craze to write 4k in one go :p

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

i usually just have some vibes and then create as i go along. even for chaptered fics i rarely have an outline, just some plot points and a way to get there sometimes, which i most oftentimes ignore completely (the problem is, when i outline a fic, i have no motivation left to write it anymore, because i know what's gonna happen when, so where' the thrill in writing it anymore? on to the next idea!)

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

this is gonna sound tacky, but most readers are actually kind, supportive and patient. you don't owe anyone any explanations as to why you can't write right now, but most people tend to tell you to take your time anyway <3 (if you ever told me to take my time, i am kissing your hands very gently)

🎯 Do you have a writing milestone you’re working towards?

nope :D i don't do milestones (but if we count that, the thing i'm working towards is actually finishing a long story lmao)

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

god, there's already art for my fics (which is something i never expected to say) that i think about daily 🥺😭🤍

my wonderful @marshmellowpaint gifted me some art here 🥹

the time travel au has been gifted the most incredible art by the amazing @eaissez here and by my darling friend @sevenpumpkins here and here 🥺🌷

all of that is already more than i could have ever hoped or wished for, in no other fandoms i've been in have my stories inspired art?? i think i would combust if there were any more of it tbh 🥹

fanfic writer ask game

[secrettastemakerland]

10 First Lines Tag Game

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Thank you for the tags @bunny-hoodlum @dayseternal-blog @arunikas!! 💗💗💗

mine are under the cut bc i talk/write too much 😅

Ghost of You (she's new here)

Himawari woke up tired.

She woke up feeling gross and sticky and more than a little hungry, but mostly she felt tired.

So when she was greeted with large dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep as she looked in the mirror, she wasn’t all that surprised. A little amused perhaps because of her almost exact resemblance to a raccoon (and her friend Shukaku) but not surprised.

baby pardon my french (but can you speak in tongues?)

Hinata took in her cheeky-looking kids with weary eyes, analyzing the trio as they stood in a line in front of her, purposefully, she knew, blocking the end of the hallway. There they stood with large grins, sparkling eyes, and their hands behind their backs, that plus the combination of their pajamas effectively made the three look adorable and suspicious all at the same time.

(And as much as she loved her kids, she didn’t feel like dealing with whatever horrific thing they managed to pull off that made them look like the kittens that ate the canaries at eight in the morning.) So, willing to give them the benefit of the doubt, Hinata gave them each a morning kiss on the forehead (which made their wicked grins turn to soft smiles) and went to the bathroom.

Burn The House Down

“I can’t believe this is what you’re worried about,” Naruto chuckled, his voice filling the room as he watched his wife pace back and forth in their living room that wasn’t actually, not really, their living room.

Hinata didn’t look up from her spot in the middle of the room as she tried her hardest to think, bringing her hands together to play with her wedding ring in a worried yet contemplative way.

Naruto watched her, her long dress following her gracefully as she went about the room. He stared at her face, finding the way her eyebrows came together as her nose would scrunch up like a curious little field mouse so adorable that he couldn’t help but smile despite the not house situation they had found themselves in.

A Few Bumps In The Road

"Himawari, don't get any closer," the voice was soft yet stern, cutting through the tense, thick air with its presence and she wanted nothing more than to be able to listen to its instructions. But she couldn't, not this time.

Not when she was so close to everything going back to normal.

With every part of her wishing she was somewhere else, she turned to her not-quite uncle with a humorless grin -- so reminiscent of her father in that moment that he took a step back -- she said, "Sorry Uncle Sasuke." She took a step forward, her eyes never moving from its targets.

"This is a sibling thing."

Do, do, do do do do!

"Sometimes I forget that we don't have triplets," Naruto starts, nonchalantly bringing his coffee cup to his lips as Hinata turned to him a brow raised and her nose scrunched in confusion.

Blinking at her dead-serious husband, Hinata decided to indulge in his craziness. (Even if she complained about it sometimes, they both knew that she loved it.) "And how's that?" she asked, taking a seat in front of him at the dinner table.

Did Someone Say Karaoke?

"Nothing better than a karaoke date to start the week, don't cha think, hime?" Naruto asked his wife with a smirk and a slight wiggle of his brows as they made their way to the karaoke place.

Hinata, who was walking beside the off-the-clock Hokage with her hand in his, responded with a playful roll of her eyes, trying to distract from the upcoming blush on her cheeks. Even after all these years together, Naruto could still find ways to make her blush like a school girl...

(And with all those years together came Naruto's beloved ability of being able to spot Hinata blushing from a mile away so, unfortunately, her troubles were for naught.)

i don't know who loves us more, me or the stars

Everything was perfect.

The sky was clear with not a single cloud in sight and the moon and the stars were shining brightly although there had been a light rain that afternoon, the grass and thus their picnic blanket was completely dry. The most important (and perfect) thing though was that Hinata looked incredibly kissable.

Unfortunately, Menma didn’t seem to think so because the perfectness of the night seemed to make him think that she wanted to discuss constellations and anything and everything about them instead of rolling around in the grass on their blanket together for some reason.

when i see your face (i can't think straight)

Sasuke rolled his eyes while Sakura giggled into her hand, their reactions to their best friend’s stupidity completely different as they watched Naruto slide down his locker onto the floor with a loving sigh, very much like a lovestruck schoolgirl.

“So,” Sakura started, sitting down in the space next to him. “What color was it this time?” she teased, already having a clue as to what color made him react this way.

Letting out another sigh, Naruto clutched his textbook to his chest (causing Sasuke to roll his eyes yet again), before he looked at Sakura with sparkling eyes. “Orange,” he said, dreamily, closing his eyes to think about the stunning smile that was flashed in his direction not even a minute ago.

i'd rather die than admit this (but i love you)

Hinata gently straightened the papers in her lap, making sure everything was in its place before she set them down on her lap once more. She held the folder close to her as she decided that she wanted to cross her legs, only to uncross them the second she placed her folder down. Ignoring the weird stares that she was getting from the person seated two chairs away from her, she picked up her papers to straighten them up again.

She paused in her tidying as the most aggravating voice in the world — and probably the universe — broke her concentration. “Pretty sure that they're not getting any straighter, Hyuuga,” the voice said with a sneer.

i want you and you don't want me (and that's okay)

Naruto stared deeply into his bowl of ramen as he stirred it around lazily, trying his best to tune out the whispered conversation his friends were trying to keep him from hearing. All in all, they were doing a great job, except for the fact that they were so clearly discussing the fact that Sai had found his soulmate during his first period that all it did was make Naruto sick.

Something that Shikamaru seemed to notice as he effectively shushed the group with a loud clear of his throat, successfully making them shut up and Naruto look up from his ramen cyclone in the same second.

secret stop starting fics with dialogue challenge ���💃

i'm sure everyone's been tagged already but pls join in if you want to share first lines with us!!! and make sure to tag us pretty please 💘

[kenobster]

😈💖

thank you for the ask!!

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Damn this is a good question, and I am CERTAIN I have done this, but I can't remember examples... and even if I do, I don't think they'd be from this fandom. Maybe I'll come back to this lol.

On a tangentially related subject, I can think of examples of times I wrote things to be playfully (or sometimes seriously xD) mean to commonly held fandom opinions in general. For example, Five Peggats Each was NOT going to be post-Hardeen at all.... not even a little.... not until every single Hardeen fic/post/opinion pissed me the fuck off and I was like "okay we are gonna do this MY WAY now" lol. For another example, Every Shadow (big bang fic) has unfortunately become my antithesis to every single post-Zygerria fic I've ever read (99% of these fics are incredible and favorites of mine, but they have gotten Obi-Wan & Anakin's relationship slightly wrong... in my not-so-humble, unsolicited, biased, and frankly rude opinion lol.)

I often have a terrible relationship with fandom discourse and fanon concepts in general, and I've started unleashing these personal vendettas in my writing lol (mostly to stop myself from unleashing them in public).

💖 What made you start writing?

I started writing from the moment my infant hand could hold a pencil lol, so this is an impossible question to answer. xD But "what made you continue writing?" could be fun.

When I was a kid/teen, it was probably fame-driven, like... "I want to create a story as beloved as [insert whatever book I was obsessed with]."

In my late teens/early twenties, that wish morphed into, "I want to finish something, become published, and make it a career." So still fairly fame/success-driven.

Writing fanfic was partly because it was a low-stakes way to practice and/or a quicker way to get validation aka dopamine. But in the background, fanfic (writing and reading) became a really good way for me to figure out what kinds of stories I love and why....

Thus, began an obsession with trauma and recovery in writing that was enhanced while I studied in university. At that point, it became not fame-driven (finally, thank god), but more "I want to do good; I want to help; I want people to have stories that can heal them, that they can relate to, that can make them feel heard." But I still coupled that goal with the same fame/success-driven rubric I'd been using... which complicated things in an emotionally unhelpful way I think.

Which eventually exploded into a sudden backlash era in my late twenties, during which I rebelled against all of the above reasons... All I wanted while writing was to "satisfy my id/hurt the blorbo/do whatever I want." My joke is that I wanted to write the trashiest fanfic tropes but in a realistic way, like crack taken seriously lol. It was (is?) a lawless time lol.

These days though, I think I just want to have fun. I already know I like writing. I already know what subjects I like to write about. I already know I can get better at certain techniques/tropes/skills that I want to get better at. I already know that ppl can be touched/affirmed/etc by my writing. I already know that the very skewed understanding of "success" that capitalism taught me is optional. So I don't really feel a need to question these things anymore.

At this point, I continue writing just because I want to. It makes me happy. Both to write something and to read it afterward. And that's about it.

[baelonthebrave]

well i loved your stories but i won’t subscribe you anymore because of how you behave when someone doesn’t praise your fic to the sky. so what YOU think that just because YOU write your fics are the best? luckily among all of those people who write fics about aemond there are many people who don’t behave like children whining about someone not loving it. they are more self aware than you and don’t think they are the greatest writer ever just because they published 1 story. well as someone who were in many fandoms and wrote a couple of fics let me enlighten you how it is like when you public something on AO3 or here on Tumblr. there will always be those who don’t like it and by saying some nonsense you just prove you are an immature person whose arrogance clouded her vision. do you have any idea how many times people try to public their writings how hard it is for those more ambitious who want to have their writings published? how many times for example Rowling was told no? and even when the book isn’t as popular as Harry Potter or Game of Thrones success is through the hard work and showing it to others and they will tell what you do right and wrong. and you think just because you public on the internet you are the best and every word which isn’t praise is wrong? as i said i took you for better person i misjudged you and it turned out you are just immature person who isn’t ready to public on internet because every critic word you take as child who lost his favourite toy. But as someone wise said if you want to know a person character observe how they behave when someone doesn’t agree with them. we all love to hear only praise it feeds our ego but world is not a place where everyone will like you and your fics. i could only hope you will learn that not the hardest way but unfortunately for you no one likes arrogant people who expect only praise. i am sorry i took you for far better human being i won’t repeat that mistake anymore.

dkdjfjdjf cool no problem 🫡 as I have said multiple times, I’m very grateful for people who give me constructive criticism. that’s part of why I love fanfic: because you get to take advice and ideas AS you’re writing, improving the story as you go. It’s a collaborative effort with your readers and it has helped me grow so much as a writer and I am very grateful for every last person who gives me thoughtful, constructive feedback.

but if all these anons have been the same person (which I think they have) then the one calling the story bland and saying it collapsed was just… mean-spirited and unhelpful?? It doesn’t read like you want to help me be a better writer, it reads like you are angry the story didn’t go the way YOU wanted it to and my character didn’t fit YOUR very narrow definition of what a “strong woman” should be. It reeked of entitlement to my time and energy for something you get for free. If someone sent me a message saying ‘hey I thought the setup of the story was great but I think you could work on how to pull things together, this is how I would do it…’ that’s one thing, and I fucking WISH someone would send me an ask like that because I WANT to get better. Writing is a skill that I’m in the infancy of learning. But “I thought it sucked and it was boring” isn’t constructive criticism. I don’t know what lessons you want me to take away from that. I also don’t know what qualifications you have to tell me how to be a better writer. if you came off anon and I could read some of YOUR writing, I’d have a better idea of whether you’re worth listening to. If I got handed a list of revisions tomorrow by JKR or GRRM or tumblr users whose writing I really enjoy (aemonds-sapphire or aemonds-war-crime would be 2 good examples) I would fucking drop everything and study it ‘til I’d learned from every word. but alas that’s unlikely to happen anytime soon!

and that one last night was just deeply offensive. I have people I love who have struggled to have children, have had emergency c-sections, have lost children, suffered miscarriages etc. so yeh it did touch the bone when you suggested that women who can’t have a big brood of children are “weak” or somehow less than. Again, I don’t understand what writing lessons I’m supposed to take from that and I will NOT be changing my values or my belief that there is no one RIGHT way to be a woman anytime soon.

so yeh, if you’re a writer yourself, please by all means send me a list of how you would have pulled the themes, characters, plot points together better. Or honestly please write it yourself and send me a link, I’d love to read it and see a different ending to the story.

[tiny-cloud-of-flowers]

📝⛈️☕🎞️ for Lorenza floor that "if your s/i was canon" ask memes?

I can certainly do that for you, friend! Thank you very much for sending all of these in!~

(question source: "Imagine Your Self-insert Was Canon… Self-Ship Asks" by cursedmoon-doll13)

📝: How would your story in canon go? How would you influence the events of the original story? - I feel as though Lorenza's presence wouldn't directly change all that much in the story, in all honesty..? The main parts in which she would be a more prominent character would be anything to do with the Thirteenth for obvious reasons, so that would mostly be the Crystal Tower raids (when she first enters the Source and helps NOAH find a way into the World of Darkness), the Shadow of Mhach raids (for reasons I'll explain later down the ask), and most prominently, the post-Endwalker story. The main thing I would want her to change, if she could change something, is taking Zero back from Zenos during Endwalker itself somehow - but I haven't actually seen that many cutscenes of her as his unwilling avatar yet (I'm pretty sure I skipped some), so I am not sure to what extent that would actually be possible. It'd be nice, though. So I'd quite like it to happen. Of course, crystal verse-wise - which is what I tend to view as Lorenza's default/"canon" version of events - you could argue that she may have slightly more of an influence on the story, simply by virtue of helping keep K'pheli in a much healthier (or, less aether-sick) state than he would have been in without her intervention or presence. But that and anything more than that is largely for you to establish if you so wish, hehe~

🌦️: Would you be accompanied by mostly fluff or angst fanfics? Both? Explain why. - Hmm.. On the one hand, the fact that Lorenza and Zero are separated from each other for so long might encourage people to write lots of fluff to counter that fact. On the other hand, there is always potential for angst, by sheer means of how many painful moments happen in the plot - I can imagine there might be a number of sin eater/Lightwarden Lorenza AUs, for example, because of how poorly she reacts to the First as well as the fact that she's the one who takes on the Lightwardens' Light outside of crystal verse/in my version of events, plus the whole "light vs. darkness" dynamic that this would introduce. Another key angst moment that probably gets focused on a lot would be Zero appearing as Zenos' unwilling reaper avatar during Endwalker, as alluded to above. So, in conclusion, perhaps both? I can imagine anything that gets written being pretty far one way or the other, rather than somewhere in the middle.

☕️: What are the most common plots of shipping fics between you and your F/O? - Hell if I know, in all honesty! The trouble with not reading very much (or hardly any) fanfiction is that I don't have a very good idea of what sorts of things are common for people to write about specific pairings, unfortunately =P I can perhaps imagine that there would be some scenes of Lorenza showing Zero various places on the Source or introducing her to things there, since - although both of them are from the Thirteenth - Lorenza has of course experienced much more of the Source than Zero would have, so she could act as a guide for her, and use that time as a way for the two to catch each other up on what has happened since they were last able to be together. But, that's about the only potential plot to come to mind.

🎞️: What ‘canon’ scenes would the fandom point to as evidence for the validity of your ship? - I tried to write one of these out, once - it's the one where Lorenza confronts Diabolos at the end of the Dun Scaith raid, forcing him to go and report that she is alive to the rest of the Thirteenth, and also to mandate that no harm can come to Zero. While it doesn't technically reveal who she is, it does at least serve as the first major on-screen example of Lorenza referring to her lover, and would probably be what encouraged whoever-was-with-her-as-part-of-the-raid to ask her about her for the first time. This is the only really concrete part of it that I have so far (that isn't just me writing out how the in-game cutscene normally goes), but I still think it stands pretty well on its own, so here it is. Imagine Lorenza holding Diabolos by the neck or something as she's talking at him.

(Technically speaking, Lorenza is not directly connected to Scathach like she's implying here - there's an argument to be made that the Thirteenth consists of what you could call "the Celtic voidsent" and "the Italian voidsent", given the divides in names (other than Diabolos, ironically), and given that her names are Lorenza and Colombina and she literally speaks Italian in the above snippet, it's perhaps evident that she is of the latter instead of the former. Even so, she's still a princess of the void - so of course she would take the throne next in the absence of a queen, right? A wayward princess ruling from afar.)

Other than that, I do think that Lorenza would open up more about Zero at some point on-screen in the story, I'm just not sure when or to whom yet. So, that would also be a pretty clear example of another scene, even if Zero herself isn't present for it. The other example would of course be the actual reuniting of Zero with Lorenza at last, whether that's post-Endwalker or I be self-indulgent and bring her into things early.

Ah, that was rather a lot for one post, but I hope that these answers are alright for you, friend! Thank you very much once again for sending in so many questions, it really means a lot~