#that question bothered me months ago when noticing translation differences actually

[comikadraws]

Madara's other three siblings were all boys like him and Izuna?

Did Madara Have Any Sisters?

Not 100% sure because I am not a Japanese speaker (I just sometimes like to research these types of questions). So if there's a Japanese speaker among us, please correct me on any of this if I am wrong. Also correct me if I missed any information here.

There are different English translations floating around, some in which Madara refers to his siblings just as, well, "siblings" and others in which he calls them "brothers". In the Japanese version, Madara consistently uses 兄弟 (Kyōdai) to refer to his siblings. This is the same word that all translations seem to translate into "siblings" whenever it is used by Hashirama.

According to my research, the Japanese word for "siblings" is 兄弟 (Kyōdai)... but 兄弟 (Kyōdai) also means "brothers". This makes the meaning of 兄弟 (Kyōdai) ambiguous and dependant on context.

Kyōdai and Gender-Neutrality

The crux of the issue is that Japanese does not have a gender-neutral term for "siblings". As a quick overview, there's...

兄弟 (Kyōdai) using the kanji for "older brother" + "younger brother" 兄妹 (Keimai) using the kanji for "older brother" + "younger sister" 姉弟 (Shitei) using the kanji for "older sister" + "younger brother" 姉妹 (Shimai) using the kanji for "older sister" + "younger sister"

And as if to make it all worse, it appears that each of the above can also be read as きょうだい "Kyōdai" though this appears to be a less common reading but not impossible, as seen in the case of the sand sibling trio 砂の三姉弟 (Suna no Sankyōdai).

The Japanese solve this issue of not having an exclusive term for "siblings" by making "Kyōdai" double as both "brothers" and "siblings". The meaning is even more ambiguous in spoken Japanese, as otherwise, the use of its kanji form 兄弟 (kanji for "older brother" + "younger brother") has a strong association with male siblings.

To avoid confusion in written text, "Kyōdai" can be spelled きょうだい using only hiragana (which is the closest thing to an ABC that Japanese has), avoiding using male-associated kanji. You can also combine "brothers" and "sisters" into 兄弟姉妹 (Kyōdaishimai). Neither of those are strict rules, however, which is also the reason why Kishimoto uses the kanji version of 兄弟 even when Hashirama refers to the village which has a mix of different genders (compare with the manga panels above).

Alternatively, if you want to specify male siblings only, you can use 弟 (Otōto) to say "younger brothers" or 男兄弟 (Otokokyōdai) to say "male siblings".

Hashirama and Madara on Kyōdai

Unfortunately, none of this helps us clear up the confusion. Evidently, when Kishimoto gave Madara siblings, he was not bothered enough to specify whether Madara had sisters or not due to the ambiguity of 兄弟 (Kyōdai). The best we can do from here is try to infer what might be implied through context.

The most suitable scene we have for gauging the intention behind Madara's use of 兄弟 (Kyōdai) here is probably one from Chapter #622. After the death of Itama, Hashirama asks Madara whether he has any 兄弟 (Kyōdai), hoping to connect with him. Madara responds, saying he is one of five 兄弟 (Kyōdai).

Since Madara is responding to a question here, the meaning of Madara's 兄弟 (Kyōdai) depends on his own understanding of Hashirama's use of 兄弟 (Kyōdai).

What Does Hashirama Refer to?

The overarching context of this flashback and the subject it focuses on are the untimely deaths of children on the battlefield (regardless of gender) and Hashirama's opposition to war which is informed by his grief as an older brother.

Although Hashirama has just lost a younger brother specifically, he is likely not seeking to connect via the concept of losing a brother only. He is seeking to connect via the general grief and anger that comes with losing a close family member and one who was still a child at that. This opens up an opportunity for Hashirama to not only talk about his loss but also the injustices of the shinobi world that so willingly takes the lives of children.

It is, of course, entirely possible that Hashirama is still referring to male siblings only, but the problem is that he is using spoken Japanese yet doesn't verbally express any specifications when 男兄弟 (Otokokyōdai) and 弟 (Otōto) are perfectly fine options. Additionally, he has little reason to narrow down the meaning of 兄弟 (Kyōdai) to male siblings only. Perhaps he finds the connection between a brother and sister to be less significant or relatable than the connection between two brothers, but that's about it.

What Does Madara Refer to?

Since Hashirama was asking for 兄弟 (Kyōdai) of any gender, Madara has no reason to specify the gender of his siblings either. Since he adopts the ambiguous 兄弟 (Kyōdai) from Hashirama, we can assume that his use of the word was just as ambiguous.

I personally don't see how Hashirama could understand Madara's use of 兄弟 (Kyōdai) to definitively mean "brothers only" in this instance (though perhaps I am just missing something here). If at all, it is only us readers who could possibly understand 兄弟 (Kyōdai) to mean "brothers only" due to its kanji combination. Even then the kanjis 兄弟 may have simply been used for the sake of brevity (small speech bubbles and all) and not necessarily to imply brothers specifically.

Due to the two different meanings of 兄弟 (Kyōdai) being virtually indistinguishable from one another, Madara could have theoretically also just misunderstood Hashirama's question. While that is an unlikely scenario, the option isn't entirely off the table either.

For the fanfic writers: In either of these two scenarios, Madara never specifies that he doesn't have sisters. Assuming he uses 兄弟 (Kyōdai) ambiguously, Madara's and Izuna's other three siblings might include sisters. Assuming he thinks he is being asked about only his male siblings specifically, telling Hashirama he has four brothers does not rule out the possibility that Madara might have sisters on top of those four brothers.

The only case in which this doesn't hold true is in one in which Hashirama's 兄弟 (Kyōdai) is ambiguous whereas Madara's is not. You wouldn't reply to "do you have any siblings" with an answer that leaves out your sisters unless for good reason.

Madara's Otōto

Remember how I said that if you mean male siblings only, you can just use 男兄弟 (Otokokyōdai) or 弟 (Otōto)? Well, Madara is perfectly capable of using that in Chapter #625.

In a mirror of Chapter #623, Madara explains how he couldn't protect his 弟 (Otōto) which means "younger brother(s)". Due to Japanese not having any plurals in the English sense, 弟 (Otōto) can both refer to just one or multiple little brothers. Considering the context of Madara referring to the promise he made to Izuna, 弟 (Otōto) likely refers to Izuna alone in this instance.

Using 弟 (Otōto) is an interesting choice of words though, as in Chapter #623 Madara uses 兄弟 (Kyōdai) instead. Unlike 兄弟 (Kyōdai), 弟 (Otōto) both specifies the age of the sibling relative to Madara as well as their gender. This might imply that Madara's other siblings are not just younger brothers - instead, his 兄弟 (Kyōdai) may include female siblings, younger siblings, or both for the distinction to make sense.

The notion that Madara had older brothers might conflict with information from the databooks, depending on your interpretation of 長男 (Chōnan) which can either mean "first-born son" or "oldest son". As far as my understanding goes, the latter may still apply to a younger son under the condition that his elder brothers have died.

The databook page also seems to be focused on Tajima's sons specifically, but we also have to remember that the page is likely referring to a point in time at which he has already lost three of his children, some of which may have been female.

Note: The English translation is also a little mistranslated. In the Japanese version, Tajima was "willing to use his 子 (Ko = children)" and "viewed the love for his 息子 (Musuko = sons) as objective". Or maybe the text says something slightly different because I only checked the translation for "son", haha. Anyway, the English version, instead, only talks about Tajima's "sons".

So to Summarize

- Hashirama likely meant "siblings" when using 兄弟 (Kyōdai). In response, Madara likely referred to "siblings" as well. In this scenario, Madara has four siblings but potentially of different genders (some of which may be older than Madara). - In the event that Madara thought/knew that Hashirama referred to "brothers" instead, Madara may have only mentioned his male siblings - but this doesn't eliminate the possibility of sisters. In this scenario, Madara has four brothers (some of which are likely older than Madara) and an unknown number of sisters. - We can only safely assume that Madara did not have any sisters under the assumption that he understood Hashirama's question to mean 兄弟 (Kyōdai) but opted for intentional miscommunication instead. In this scenario, Madara only has four brothers (some of which are likely older than Madara).

Personally, I cannot give you a definitive answer on the issues. There are lots of what-ifs at play and I believe Kishimoto may have just left it deliberately vague. I think there's a good chance Madara was referring to both male and female siblings due to his consistent use of 兄弟 (Kyōdai) in opposition to 男兄弟 (Otokokyōdai) or 弟 (Otōto). The problem is that we just don't know. But in the event that Kishimoto intentionally made Madara use 兄弟 (Kyōdai) with male kanji specifically, I'd at least argue that Madara had at least one older brother due to the distinction Madara makes between Izuna and his brothers as a whole.

However, please keep in mind that I am not a Japanese speaker (I neither grew up with the language nor did I study it at any point in time) which is why you should take anything I said with a barrel of salt. Everything in this post is the result of research and not any of my personal expertise.

[emerald-chaos]

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

[niseamstories]

10 Lessons on Realistic Worldbuilding and Mapmaking I Learned Working With a Professional Cartographer and Geodesist

Hi, fellow writers and worldbuilders,

It’s been over a year since my post on realistic swordfighting, and I figured it’s time for another one. I’m guessing the topic is a little less “sexy”, but I’d find this useful as a writer, so here goes: 10 things I learned about realistic worldbuilding and mapmaking while writing my novel.

I’ve always been a sucker for pretty maps, so when I started on my novel, I hired an artist quite early to create a map for me. It was beautiful, but a few things always bothered me, even though I couldn’t put a finger on it. A year later, I met an old friend of mine, who currently does his Ph.D. in cartography and geodesy, the science of measuring the earth. When the conversation shifted to the novel, I showed him the map and asked for his opinion, and he (respectfully) pointed out that it has an awful lot of issues from a realism perspective.

First off, I’m aware that fiction is fiction, and it’s not always about realism; there are plenty of beautiful maps out there (and my old one was one of them) that are a bit fantastical and unrealistic, and that’s all right. Still, considering the lengths I went to ensure realism for other aspects of my worldbuilding, it felt weird to me to simply ignore these discrepancies. With a heavy heart, I scrapped the old map and started over, this time working in tandem with a professional artist, my cartographer friend, and a linguist. Six months later, I’m not only very happy with the new map, but I also learned a lot of things about geography and coherent worldbuilding, which made my universe a lot more realistic.

1)  Realism Has an Effect: While there’s absolutely nothing wrong with creating an unrealistic world, realism does affect the plausibility of a world. Even if the vast majority of us probably know little about geography, our brains subconsciously notice discrepancies; we simply get this sense that something isn’t quite right, even if we don’t notice or can’t put our finger on it. In other words, if, for some miraculous reason, an evergreen forest borders on a desert in your novel, it will probably help immersion if you at least explain why this is, no matter how simple.

2)  Climate Zones: According to my friend, a cardinal sin in fantasy maps are nonsensical climate zones. A single continent contains hot deserts, forests, and glaciers, and you can get through it all in a single day. This is particularly noticeable in video games, where this is often done to offer visual variety (Enderal, the game I wrote, is very guilty of this). If you aim for realism, run your worldbuilding by someone with a basic grasp of geography and geology, or at least try to match it to real-life examples.

3)  Avoid Island Continent Worlds: Another issue that is quite common in fictional worlds is what I would call the “island continents”: a world that is made up of island-like continents surrounded by vast bodies of water. As lovely and romantic as the idea of those distant and secluded worlds may be, it’s deeply unrealistic. Unless your world was shaped by geological forces that differ substantially from Earth’s, it was probably at one point a single landmass that split up into fragmented landmasses separated by waters. Take a look at a proper map of our world: the vast majority of continents could theoretically be reached by foot and relatively manageable sea passages. If it weren’t so, countries such as Australia could have never been colonized – you can’t cross an entire ocean on a raft.

4)  Logical City Placement: My novel is set in a Polynesian-inspired tropical archipelago; in the early drafts of the book and on my first map, Uunili, the nation’s capital, stretched along the entire western coast of the main island. This is absurd. Not only because this city would have been laughably big, but also because building a settlement along an unprotected coastline is the dumbest thing you could do considering it directly exposes it to storms, floods, and, in my case, monsoons. Unless there’s a logical reason to do otherwise, always place your coastal settlements in bays or fjords.

 Naturally, this extends to city placement in general. If you want realism and coherence, don’t place a city in the middle of a godforsaken wasteland or a swamp just because it’s cool. There needs to be a reason. For example, the wasteland city could have started out as a mining town around a vast mineral deposit, and the swamp town might have a trading post along a vital trade route connecting two nations.

 5)  Realistic Settlement Sizes: As I’ve mentioned before, my capital Uunili originally extended across the entire western coast. Considering Uunili is roughly two thirds the size of Hawaii  the old visuals would have made it twice the size of Mexico City. An easy way to avoid this is to draw the map using a scale and stick to it religiously. For my map, we decided to represent cities and townships with symbols alone.

 6)  Realistic Megacities: Uunili has a population of about 450,000 people. For a city in a Middle Ages-inspired era, this is humongous. While this isn’t an issue, per se (at its height, ancient Alexandria had a population of about 300,000), a city of that size creates its own set of challenges: you’ll need a complex sewage system (to minimize disease spreading like wildfire) and strong agriculture in the surrounding areas to keep the population fed. Also, only a small part of such a megacity would be enclosed within fantasy’s ever-so-present colossal city walls; the majority of citizens would probably concentrate in an enormous urban sprawl in the surrounding areas. To give you a pointer, with a population of about 50,000, Cologne was Germany’s biggest metropolis for most of the Middle Ages. I’ll say it again: it’s fine to disregard realism for coolness in this case, but at least taking these things into consideration will not only give your world more texture but might even provide you with some interesting plot points.

 7)  World Origin: This point can be summed up in a single question: why is your world the way it is? If your novel is set in an archipelago like mine is, are the islands of volcanic origin? Did they use to be a single landmass that got flooded with the years? Do the inhabitants of your country know about this? Were there any natural disasters to speak of? Yes, not all of this may be relevant to the story, and the story should take priority over lore, but just like with my previous point, it will make your world more immersive.

 8)  Maps: Think Purpose! Every map in history had a purpose. Before you start on your map, think about what yours might have been. Was it a map people actually used for navigation? If so, clarity should be paramount. This means little to no distracting ornamentation, a legible font, and a strict focus on relevant information. For example, a map used chiefly for military purposes would naturally highlight different information than a trade map. For my novel, we ultimately decided on a “show-off map” drawn for the Blue Island Coalition, a powerful political entity in the archipelago (depending on your world’s technology level, maps were actually scarce and valuable). Also, think about which technique your in-universe cartographer used to draw your in-universe map. Has copperplate engraving already been invented in your fictional universe? If not, your map shouldn’t use that aesthetic.

9)  Maps: Less Is More. If a spot or an area on a map contains no relevant information, it can (and should) stay blank so that the reader’s attention naturally shifts to the critical information. Think of it this way: if your nav system tells you to follow a highway for 500 miles, that’s the information you’ll get, and not “in 100 meters, you’ll drive past a little petrol station on the left, and, oh, did I tell you about that accident that took place here ten years ago?” Traditional maps follow the same principle: if there’s a road leading a two day’s march through a desolate desert, a black line over a blank white ground is entirely sufficient to convey that information.

10) Settlement and Landmark Names: This point will be a bit of a tangent, but it’s still relevant. I worked with a linguist to create a fully functional language for my novel, and one of the things he criticized about my early drafts were the names of my cities. It’s embarrassing when I think about it now, but I really didn’t pay that much attention to how I named my cities; I wanted it to sound good, and that was it. Again: if realism is your goal, that’s a big mistake. Like Point 5, we went back to the drawing board and dove into the archipelago’s history and established naming conventions. In my novel, for example, the islands were inhabited by indigenes called the Makehu before the colonization four hundred years before the events of the story; as it’s usually the case, all settlements and islands had purely descriptive names back then. For example, the main island was called Uni e Li, which translates as “Mighty Hill,” a reference to the vast mountain ranges in the south and north; townships followed the same example (e.g., Tamakaha meaning “Coarse Sands”). When the colonizers arrived, they adopted the Makehu names and adapted them into their own language, changing the accented, long vowels to double vowels: Uni e Li became “Uunili,” Lehō e Āhe became “Lehowai.” Makehu townships kept their names; colonial cities got “English” monikers named after their geographical location, economic significance, or some other original story. Examples of this are Southport, a—you guessed it—port on the southernmost tip of Uunili, or Cale’s Hope, a settlement named after a businessman’s mining venture. It’s all details, and chances are that most readers won’t even pay attention, but I personally found that this added a lot of plausibility and immersion.

I could cover a lot more, but this post is already way too long, so I’ll leave it at that—if there’s enough interest, I’d be happy to make a part two. If not, well, maybe at least a couple of you got something useful out of this. If you’re looking for inspiration/references to show to your illustrator/cartographer, the David Rumsey archive is a treasure trove. Finally, for anyone who doesn’t know and might be interested, my novel is called Dreams of the Dying, and is a blends fantasy, mystery, and psychological horror set in the universe of Enderal, an indie RPG for which I wrote the story. It’s set in a Polynesian-inspired medieval world and has been described as Inception in a fantasy setting by reviewers.

Credit for the map belongs to Dominik Derow, who did the ornamentation, and my friend Fabian Müller, who created the map in QGIS and answered all my questions with divine patience. The linguist’s name is David Müller (no, they’re not related, and, yes, we Germans all have the same last names.)

[oscar-lettjohanssonloveme]

Glide (Miss Venable x reader)

a/n: hello :3 here we have another song fanfiction whoohoo- uhm Glide (by Lxandra) don't expect too much haha.. its angsty i guess lol :7 oh and its really long-

summary: I am really bad at this holy shit.. I guess its about the “"relationship” between you and Miss Venable (relationship is a weird word-)

warnings: alcohol, talking about depression and suicide (but nobody's actually depressed), notes of sex 

google translate :’D

"So, Miss Y / L / N", Mister Langdon finally said as he stepped around the table to stand in front of you.

"After telling me about your homosexuality, I would like to know if you are currently in love?"

You narrowed your eyes at the man in front of you.

"What kind of stupid question is that? Is this the part where we braid each other's hair and talk about our high school crushes?"

"Answer. My. Question.", the Man growled.

"Okay okay," you muttered quickly. "Uhm, well let me think about it for a minute."

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

It all started when Miss Venable heard you scream one night.

You had been at Outpost 3 for a few months at this point and in all that time you hadn't spoken a lot and spent the entire time in your room except for meals.

The others didn't know much about you. They knew, you were one of the youngest residents of the Outpost and that you had left your family behind. And of course they knew your name. But that was all.

You spent a lot of time thinking about your family. Your relationship with your parents wasn't ideal, but you still missed them. And if you had known a year ago where you were today, you would have done a few things differently. Celebrating Christmas with them one last time, vacationing with them, simply spending the time peacefully with them instead of arguing.

Usually you cried quietly to yourself, with your head buried under your pillow, hoping, that everyone would forget you existed,  but crying wasn't enough tonight and after dinner you snuck into the kitchen to steal a bottle of the red wine, that you smuggled into your room afterwards.

It was now 1 a.m., the bottle was almost empty, and hours ago you had started tossing the items you had in your room. Your clothes were scattered on the floor, while you had tossed the boring books from the library against the wall. Your bed was a complete disaster and in all your anger you had torn the sheets. There were red wine stains on your pillows, which had almost slipped into the blazing fire of the fireplace after you tossed them off the bed.

And now all you could do was scream.

"Fuck you!" You shouted as you staggered in the room with the alcohol in one hand.

"Fuck you all! Fuck this apocalypse, fuck this outpost, fuck-"

"Miss Y / L / N" interrupted you a loud voice behind you and made you turn around.

Miss Venable was standing in the doorway in front of the locked door, staring at you in confusion.

"Ever heard of knocking?" You grumbled and hid the bottle behind your back.

"I knocked," Miss Venable hissed, her gaze wandering angrily over your chaos.

"And if you hadn't screamed so loud, you would probably have heard it. What the fuck do you think of making such a noise here at night? Stealing alcohol as well?"

"I uh- caught," you muttered as you put the bottle on the round table in front of you.

"Do you know what's really funny? We don't have anything to eat, but there is no end of alcohol. Whoever came up with that must be pretty stupid."

"It was my idea. I am in charge here, in case you forgot."

"Oh right," you sighed and slapped your forehead with the palm of your hand.

"Shit, well, i'm sorry, but what was your name again?"

"You forgot my name?" Asked Miss Venable sharply with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah," you muttered before collapsing onto your messy bed.

"But I know it was something weird."

Miss Venable glared at you, which of course you couldn't see because you were buried with your face in your blanket.

"Hopefully you realize this will be punished," she growled.

"Oh suck my dick", you grumbled. "You enjoy punishing others, don't you? You are a little psychopath"

You laughed softly into your blanket and noticed how you became more and more sleepy. You almost fell asleep if Miss Venable hadn't tapped her stick loudly on the floor.

"You will start cleaning up here immediately, otherwise it will be the last night you spend in this outpost."

"Oh shut up. You are totally mean to me," you moaned and pouted at the angry woman.

"Why are everyone always so mean to me? I haven't done anything wrong."

You got up on shaky legs to walk past her to the door, but you tripped and fell against Miss Venable.

"Wow," you mumbled as you stared into her brown eyes with your glassy ones and grabbed hold of her hips.

"I may not know your name, but I know,  that you are really pretty"

"What the fuck is wrong withyou ?! "

Wilhemina pushed you away from her so that you stumbled backwards and landed on the floor.

You stared out at her with hurt eyes as tears welled up in your eyes.

"I didn't do anything," you yelled at Miss Venable, who was still leaning on her stick in front of you.

"It's not my fault, that you're beautiful. Be happy, others are ugly."

"That's enough," growled Miss Venable as she took a step towards you and grabbed your arm to pull you up.

"You're going to bed now."

"I'll do nothing," you mumbled and tried to pull yourself out of her grip, but you were way too drunk to use enough strength and she could push you like a doll on the bed.

You laughed again.

"Guess what, my bed is big enough for both of us, isn't that funny?"

You looked up at her playfully, or at least you tried.

"You beautiful woman. We-"

"Your behavior is disgusting," she interrupted as she leaned over to grab your chin. Immediately you fell silent.

"And my name is Miss Venable."

She looked down at you dangerously and you saw fire in her eyes when you started laughing out loud.

"Haha Miss Venable, I told you it was something weird," you shouted before you started screaming out loud.

"Miss Venable is beautiful whohoo. Can you all hear me? Miss Venable is beautiful. She-"

"What the hell", Miss Venable cut you off again and took her hand from your jaw to put it on your mouth.

"Are you going to be quiet at last?"

"M'sorry," you hummed against her hand and Miss Venable could see from the wrinkles around your eyes, that you were grinning under her hand.

"I want you to go to sleep now and clean up the chaos here tomorrow, do you understand me?" She asked in a sharp voice. But you just glared at her and wanted to bite her hand when she repeated her question.

"Do you understand me?" She barked louder and this time you nodded quickly.

"Good," she said happily as she took her hand from your mouth and straightened up again.

"Fuck you," you mumbled quietly and watched unhappily as the woman went to the sofa across from the fireplace and sat on it.

"Can't you just go?" You moaned as she leaned her cane against the edge of the sofa.

"Oh I'll go," she replied while staring into the fire.

"When you fell asleep."

You groan in annoyance.

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Oh come on," you sighed and pulled your blanket over your head so she couldn't see you.

It was actually your plan to wait for her to go away, but at some point (who knows how much time had passed) you actually fell asleep.

Living my life in a bubble

Sometimes reality's too much for me

(I trip and fall into a dream)

Your love it gets me into trouble

Sometimes your gravity's too much for me

(It gets me weak in the knees)

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

A week had passed and not much had happened. The next morning you woke up alone and with a big hangover and barely remembering what had happened the previous evening. Miss Venable had forced you to clean up the mess in your room after she had punished you for stealing the alcohol and as attractive as this woman was, she seemed genuinely angry about what had happened, even though it was actually nothing special. At least that's what you thought, but you couldn't remember either.

The world had ended and her problem was, that you had stolen a bottle of wine and ravaged your room. You wondered how fucked up her life must have been before the apocalypse, if that bothered her. And she wasn't the only one you wondered about.

The other residents of the outpost were all disgusting.

"Why do we have to eat this shit?"

"When are we getting out of here?"

"Why is life so unfair and let me be here with you idiots?"

You hate those ungrateful assholes. Everyone was dead and their only problem was, that they were still alive.

Other people deserved it so much more and the fact that mankind's only hope was in these conceited, stupid assholes seemed like a joke.

When you lay in bed that day and stared lost at the ceiling, you had lost all reference to reality. You didn't know what day it was or what month you were in. You also didn't know whether the last meal you ate was lunch or dinner, although a glance at the clock would have been enough. But you got tired of staring at the clock and watching the second hand, hoping something would happen.

Nothing changed anyway. And all you felt was that big feeling of loneliness that completely filled you. You were a very emotional person and all you wanted was someone who was normal. But everybody in this outpost was a huge disappointment. Conceited assholes, intimidated Grays and Miss Venable, who enjoyed punishing people.

Probably you would have started talking to yourself, but thank god you weren't there yet.

Sometimes you thought, it might be easier, if you opened up to others. But your body had become like a prison and you kept every thought trapped deep inside you because it did not match those of the others. Stupid assholes.

And while you continued to sink into your self-pity, you would probably have fallen asleep, if you hadn't been bothered by the sudden knock on your door.

"Fuck off," you moaned while staring angrily at the door, but the person standing in front of it only knocked one more time.

Asshole, you thought before reluctantly climbing out of bed to open your door.

"I said you should f- Oh Miss Venable," you stared at the woman in front of you.

"Are you here to punish me again for something pointless? If so, I can assure you it won't be necessary .. The wounds from last time still hurt, if you care."

Miss Venable screwed up her eyes.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N, actually I don't care, but if it still hurts, you seem to have learned your lesson," she replied coldly and you just snorted in annoyance.

"What do you want from me?"

"You are obviously depressed-" she started and you interrupted her immediately.

"What is that shit supposed to mean? I'm not depressed, I'm just sad. And since when have you been interested in how I'm doing?"

You glared at her with narrowed eyes, but her face still had the same deadly serious expression.

"You've been sad for a long time, don't you think?"

"I- uh".

You looked at her confused.

"All my friends are dead, it's only logical that I feel that way .. I find it rather questionable, that I'm the only one here, who feels that way."

"So?" Miss Venable raised an eyebrow, which made you even more insecure.

"I don't really care how you feel either. I just don't feel like wiping your blood off should you decide to kill yourself."

"Suicide isn't always bloody," you muttered.

"And because we don't have any doctors here-"

"By the way, that's the stupidest thing of all. You know, we have a hairstylist, but no doctors, you also notice that it doesn't make any sense, right?" You interrupted her and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

And again Miss Venable ignored your words and finished her sentence, which you had interrupted.

"..I thought that would help too."

Your eyes widened when you saw what she was pulling out from behind her back and immediately you started laughing.

"Are you serious? First you punish me brutally for stealing a bottle of red wine and now you come to give me one?" You laughed and stared down at the bottle she was holding out to you.

"What's worse is, that you think alcohol is replacing therapeutic treatment. That's pretty sad to be honest, Miss Venable."

Wilhemina narrowed her eyes.

"It's not sad, I just prefer red wine stains instead of stains from your blood," she growled.

"You can't possibly be serious," you mumbled and suddenly had to grin.

"You enjoyed punishing me, right? And now you're coming, because you need a reason to do it again."

"Oh come on," Miss Venable rolled her eyes.

"Take the bottle or don't take it, it's just an offer."

You were still staring at her in amazement. What was wrong with her that she thought this action would solve your problems? Another proof of how fucked up everything was and that the only person you could count on was yourself.

"Uhm, well thank you, Miss Venable," you stuttered and reached for the bottle.

"If you come over every evening and bring me a bottle, your diagnosis may work and I will have very different problems, than my sadness."

"Not funny," muttered Miss Venable, her lips pressed together.

"Well, good evening, Miss Y / N."

She turned around and started to leave and you could only stare after her in confusion. Evening?

Then you actually had dinner earlier, even though you could have sworn it was only lunch.

"Maybe you want to join me-?" You asked suddenly and were just as surprised by this question as Miss Venable, who turned to you.

"What?"

"I don't think getting drunk on my own would be fun," you added, stepping nervously from one foot to the other.

"You did it a week ago," replied Miss Venable and in the torchlight you could see the lines of confusion on her face.

"But I never said it was fun," you smiled crookedly as your grip tightened on the neck of the bottle.

"And I think it would be nicer to do that, in the presence of another person. Especially since you've already seen me drunk."

You looked at Miss Venable expectantly, although you did not know exactly what you were doing. It was probably just your desperate attempt to get someone's attention, simply because everyone, who has ever cared about you was dead. And you knew Miss Venable might not be the best choice. But while the others complained aloud about their suffering and argued about who was worse off, Miss Venable didn't show such feelings and kept her thoughts to herself. A circumstance with which you could somehow identify.

"Okay," Miss Venable finally muttered, surprising you one more time that day.

"Well, great," you said before stepping out the door frame to go back to your room. You sat on the other end of the sofa, across from where she sat a week ago. In your hand there was still the bottle of red wine and for whatever reason you were ashamed of this situation. Miss Venable brought you alcohol because she thought, you could use it to manage your sadness, or depression (as she called it). And if she had actually meant well, which was actually questionable with her, then you had to make a pretty pathetic impression on others.

"You cleaned up the mess," you heard Miss Venable's voice behind you, but it was more of a determination than an acknowledgment.

"And I just noticed that we have no glasses at all".

Your shoulders sagged at her words and for a moment you were afraid she would leave. But you heard her close the door behind her before she went to the sofa and sat down on the exact same place, that she had been sitting on a week ago.

You watched the woman confused, leaning her cane against the sofa.

Her gaze lifted to you and she stared at you as expectantly as you looked at her confused.

"What are you waiting for? Go into the kitchen and get glasses," Miss Venable uttered.

You blinked in surprise.

"I- I didn't know that was a request," you muttered before jumping up from the sofa to run from your room into the kitchen.

When you ran back to your room 5 minutes later with two wine glasses, Miss Venable was still sitting on the ugly fabric sofa just as she had done a few minutes earlier. And somehow there was something aesthetic about it.

Personally, you thought it was ridiculous, that everyone had to adapt to the Victorian style, just because she wanted to. But it was perfect for Miss Venable. As if it was made for it. Her red hair, which she always pinned up so strictly, then her almost black eyes and the lipstick. Also her pale skin and her cane. Even her strict personality perfectly matched the style of clothing.

"Do you want to stay in the door frame and stare at me, or are you finally coming now," Wilhemina hissed suddenly without moving even an inch and immediately a slight blush rose in your face.

"M'sorry," you muttered and quickly closed the door before going back to the sofa. After you sat down, you put the glasses in front of you on the table, where the wine bottle was now.

"I was just wondering," you explained as you poured the wine into your glasses.

"Why the Victorian style of all things?"

"Why not? It looks good," replied Miss Venable, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Well," you began before turning to give her her glass.

"The world is ending and you make us wear 10kg dresses, because you think it looks good?"

"Any better idea?" Miss Venable asked back, putting the glass to her lips.

"Uhm I, i don't know," you stuttered and watched Miss Venable as she drank her wine.

"Don't we have to be prepared somehow or something like that?"

You heard Miss Venable laugh quietly into her glass.

"Prepared?" She repeated with a small grin and put her glass back on the table.

"On what? For the aliens to come and get us out of here?"

You shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't know," you mumbled before you put your glass to your lips to take a sip of the bitter liquid and while you were drinking you could feel her gaze digging into your skin.

"By the way, I also find it very questionable what kind of people live in this outpost," you added, setting your Glas next to hers on the table.

Wilhemina let out a laugh. It was one of those laughs that you couldn't tell whether it was meant honestly or sarcastically.

"I'm not surprised you say that," she muttered.

"Is my dislike of the others that obvious?" you asked confused.

"I don't know if obviously this is the right word .. But what I do know, is that you always look disgusted when you see them, so I'm assuming you don't like them and to be honest, I like them neither.

Your confusion turned to laughter.

"Well," you said.

"With you it is obvious that you don't like any of them."

"These people are just as competent as they were poor. They are only here because of their money," she said disapprovingly.

You sighed thoughtfully.

"It's kind of sad, that money was the way in here. Scientists would have been so much more valuable. I'm only here because my grandfather had the money."

"What did you do before the apocalypse?" She asked you and you were surprised by this honest question.

"I went to college to study history," you replied when your gaze wandered into the fire.

"So I can  judge that the Victorian style wasn't the most practical choice."

You heard Miss Venable snort in annoyance and you couldn't help but grin.

"And what did you do before the apocalypse?" You asked, turning your gaze back to her. Miss Venable seemed as surprised by your question as you were by hers.

"It's a little tricky," she began. "Basically, I built human robots."

"Robots?"

"Robots."

For a moment you stared at her in amazement. Miss Venable had averted her gaze from you and directed it to the wine glass in front of her.

"M'sorry, but if you've built human robots, why are you letting real people, the Grays, work for us? Wouldn't robots have been revolutionary in an apocalypse?"

Unlike you, Miss Venable seemed totally unaffected by this.

You watched as the redhead reached for her wine glass and took another sip of the blood red liquid.

"You are asking too many questions for my taste, Miss Y / L / N," said Miss Venable softly, putting her glass back on the table. And even though she kept her voice low, you could hear her indirect threat.

"To be honest, I'm amazed, that I'm the only one asking questions," you replied, trying to make eye contact with the woman next to you again, but Miss Venable's gaze was tied to the blazing fire in the fireplace and you could see a dark glint in their eyes.

"You shouldn't get involved in things that are none of your business," she said suddenly in a monotonous voice. "All over the world there are survivors and it is not your job to question my system, nobody has the right to do so. You are just one stupid survivor of many, nothing more"

You and I, we just glide

Through the night

We just drive, we get by

We just glide

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

"Oh c'mon," you moaned and ran your tousled hair.

"God must hate me".

You stood on shaky legs from the library floor, that you fell on after stumbling into the room. You brushed the dirt off your skirt and realized with gritted teeth, that it was ruined.

"Seems like someone is having a bad day," you suddenly heard a voice say and immediately your mood worsened.

You straighten up again to meet Miss Venable's eyes. The woman sat on the right of the two leather sofas and with one hand clutched her cane, which was propped on the floor.

"Fuck you", you hissed before you let yourself fall on the sofa across from her.

"Oh, someone is having a very bad day," added Miss Venable, and you didn't have to look at her to see, that she was amused by your behavior,

"Yes, my day sucks and guess what, it's all your fault," you growled and glared angrily at her stick.

"When I got up this morning and wanted to leave my room, I got stuck in the door with my blouse and the whole sleeve was torn. Did you also notice, how much you sweat in these clothes? It's really hard to go at the toilet with these clothes .. I'm sorry, but what the hell was your idea, when you decided to give us a Victorian dress code? Did you have to make our life after the apocalypse even harder ? "

You pressed angrily your lips together and screwed up your eyes.

"You are the only person who complains about it," said Miss Venable and sounded not quite as amused as a minute before. You let out a dry laugh.

"The others are too scared of you, to tell you that," you said bitterly.

"Besides, what the hell are you doing here?"

You tore your gaze away from her stick to look directly into her dark eyes.

"Why shouldn't I be here?"

"Because you're never here and you didn't look like someone who'd like to hang out with Mr. Gallant or Coco."

"Well, neither Mr. Gallant nor Miss St. Pierre Vanderbilt are here right now, right? And besides, I could ask you the same thing", Miss Venable replied indifferently and somehow she was right. It was also a rarity to see you in the library as you actually spent most of the time in your room.

"I suppose my great sadness is over now .. or as you called it 'depression'. I'm more in the mood right now, that I don't care and I am angry at everything and now you are my victim. Your lipstick is smeared by the way", you sighed, although that was actually a lie, her lipstick was perfect as always. But in fact her eyes widened slightly and you couldn't help but enjoy this view.

"You're lying," hissed Miss Venable and you had to grin.

"Maybe".

You shrugged your shoulders.

"Maybe you'd better go and see, or you risk the others seeing you ruined makeup."

It was obvious that Miss Venable was a perfectionist woman and she wasn't going to let her position of power be challenged over a smeared lipstick. On the other hand, you were an extremely bad liar and Miss Venable wasn't stupid.

"You're lying," she repeated, only with her lips pressed together, giving you the sense of achievement you wanted.

"Mhh Miss Venable," you hummed as your eyes found her stick again.

"This cane .. when I saw you for the first time, I wondered if it was just a symbol of power or if you really needed it-"

"..And then you saw me walk with it," added Miss Venable with a bitter tone in her voice.

"Oh no," you quickly shook your head.

"It wasn't your walk that gave me the confirmation that you really need the stick. It could never be your walk, you walk so majestically with that stupid thing, that even people, who don't really need a cane and only use it as an accessory would look handicapped next to you."

It was probably a rather desperate attempt to put the whole thing in a compliment and Miss Venable did not answer your words either, but you could see in the glow of the fire how her pale skin turned a light red shade and that was enough for you.

"It was your grip to be honest," you continued.

Miss Venable frowned.

"My grip?"

"Yes," you nodded and started playing with the fabric of your skirt.

"Your fingers are always clenched so tightly around the handle, as if you wanted it to break through. As if you were trying to strangle it or something like that, i dont know."

The furrow on Wilhemina's forehead only got a little wider with your words.

"You seem to spend a lot of time watching what my hands are doing," she mumbled and this time it was you, who blushed.

"It was just an observation, that I made on the side," you stammered quickly when you realized, that from one moment to the next the conversation had taken a completely wrong direction. Miss Venable did not answer again and you did not have the courage to look her face again and so the next few seconds were filled with an embarrassing silence, although you could imagine that Miss Venable was enjoying your discomfort.

"May I take a look at your cane-?" You finally asked to break the silence.

"You want to take a look at my cane?" Repeated Miss Venable, surprised with raised eyebrows.

"Only if it's okay," you said quickly.

"You are the first person, who asks me that".

Miss Venable looked thoughtfully down at her cane, which was still in her hand.

"As I said, the others are too scared of you-"

"The others don't care," Miss Venable interrupted, and you didn't know if she was sad about it or if she didn't care. But we're talking about Wilhemina Venable, she probably didn't care.

The red-haired woman sighed before holding out her stick to you.

You grinned and tried to grab the staff, but before your fingers could touch the wood, Miss Venable pulled it back again.

"How can I be sure, that you won't break it up and use it to make firewood?", She asked you and you looked at her in horror.

"I would probably be the last person to do that," you said indignantly.

"On the contrary, I think you would be the only person in this outpost who would dare to."

Miss Venable held out her stick to you again and this time she let you reach for it.

You immediately noticed how light the wood was in your hand as you carefully ran your fingers over the stick.

"What kind of wood is that?" You asked quietly without looking up from her walker.

"I guess it was blackthorn".

Your fingers moved on to the handle of the stick, which was probably the most interesting thing. A metal handle in the shape of a raven skull served as a support for the hand.

"Doesn't that hurt?".

You lifted your gaze back to Miss Venable, who obviously didn't understand what to do with your question.

"Well, if I had to support myself with all my weight on this skull, it would hurt," you added and Wilhemina just shrugged her shoulders.

"Uhm, it's a beautiful cane," you muttered, handing it back to her.

"May I ask why you need it?"

"I don't know what this should have gotten to do with you," replied Miss Venable, not sounding as nice as before. If you could call it "nice".

"Okay okay, taboo subject, I got it," you said quickly, desperately searching your head for anything to keep the conversation going.

"Do you actually enjoy it? To have control over everyone here? And know that, that almost everyone is afraid of you?", You finally asked and leaned back against the sofa.

"You asked me that a few weeks ago, when you were drunk," remarked Miss Venable, looking down at her gloved fingers, which were wrapped around her cane again.

"Really?" You asked confused.

"More or less. It was more of an accusation."

"An accusation?"

Miss Venable hummed in agreement.

"I told you, that you would be punished for your behavior and you said I would enjoy it."

"I understand," you mumbled, still staring hard at her face.

"What else happened that evening?"

A smug smile danced on Wilhemina's lips and she took a moment to consider your question.

"Well, you made fun of my name," she finally began as she drummed her fingers on the skull-like handle of her stick.

"And then you said, that I was pretty and that I should be happy about it, because other people are ugly."

Your eyes froze as her words entered your brain.

Wrong turn. Wrong turn.

"Uhm .. You know, when I'm drunk I tend to perceive things a lot more intensely than they actually are and then I exaggerate occasionally," you tried desperately to get yourself out of this situation, but Miss Venable just let out a loud laugh and you realized, that you had failed miserably. You cleared your throat briefly and sat up straight again.

"You haven't answered my question yet," you said, trying to change the subject again.

"I wanted to know, if you enjoy all of this."

"Do I enjoy it if you don't obey my rules? No, I don't enjoy that, why should I?" Miss Venable said and again had that indifferent sound in her voice. Of course you knew that she had bypassed your question and that was enough to prove, that she enjoyed her monarchy in Outpost 3.

"You said earlier, that you had got over your grief. That's good to hear," said Miss Venable, and this time she was the one who changed the subject.

"I thought you didn't care what I felt".

You smiled contentedly and cocked your head. Somehow you liked this game of mutual debunking.

"I don't care either, I just wanted to be polite."

Your smile widened when you saw her fingers clench a little tighter around her stick.

"Miss Venable and polite, I don't think this is a well-working combination," you teased her and in the glow of the fire you could see her roll her eyes.

"You were a lot less tiring, when you were crying in your room all day," she muttered disapprovingly.

Why should it be such a struggle

When it means so much to you and me?

(I trip and fall into a dream)

Built like a ship in a bottle

Gotta handle you so delicately

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

I don't know what we got

But I know what I want

The silence is killing me softly

What. The. Fuck.

When you arrived at the Outpost a few months ago, you couldn't even have imagined in your deepest dreams, that you would ever end up in this situation.

You lay on your back, still staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as you tried to stabilize your breathing. Only now did you notice, that you had your arms wrapped around your chest and that your fingernails were digging painfully into the flesh of your shoulder. Your body lay rigid in her bed and you couldn't move an inch. You desperately tried to put the things that had happened in the right order.

Was it a stupid idea to go in Miss Venable's Bedroom? Yes, definitely. In retrospect, you didn't even know what exactly you wanted there. And actually you should have disappeared, after you saw that Wilhemina hadn't even been there. But no, of course your curious ass had to inspect her entire room.

And by the time Miss Venable came out of her bathroom in her pajamas, you had already started counting in your head how many punches Miss Mead was going to give you as punishment. You had definitely crossed the line.

But it turned out very differently than expected. Miss Venable had been angry anyway, very angry, but her anger was not expressed in words. The woman had pressed you against the wall and before you could do anything about it, her hand had slipped under your skirt, between your legs and Miss Venable had broken her own rule.

Of course you could have pushed her away, but it felt so right. You wanted so badly for someone to pay you attention and Miss Venable had kind of given you just that, when she pressed you against the wall and fucked you senselessly.

The whole thing was just so emotionless. You hadn't been able to look at her. You were ashamed of every sound you made, and if Miss Venable hadn't put her hand over your mouth, everyone in the Outpost would probably have heard you scream.

Which wouldn't have been so practical, because this man had come here a few days ago and you knew he was interviewing all the residents for the sanctuary and it wouldn't have been very beneficial for you if he'd caught you, breaking you down Venables rules. Regardless of the fact, that she had broken her rule herself.

Miss Venable hadn't said a single word about what had happened a few minutes ago, as if she had absolutely no need to justify herself.

She hadn't even looked at you when she took her hands off you and wiped them with a kleenex.

"You can sleep here tonight," she had muttered.

"It would be noticeable if you left my room now."

And now you lay next to her in bed and tried to understand all of this. Your dress was messy on the floor and all you had on was your underwear. After your fingers relaxed, you had pulled the blanket, that she wordlessly gave you over you and clung desperately to the fabric.

You had calmed down and could now hear her breathing next to you. The fact, that she was just lying next to you and probably sleeping was disturbing. At least, she could have apologized, right? Although, that didn't make sense either, because you obviously enjoyed what had happened.

You carefully turned your head towards her and saw, that her back was turned to you. And you wondered if she was really sleeping or just pretending. Miss Venable had become your most private contact in the outpost and you didn't really know what that actually meant.

You wanted so badly to touch her, but you didn't know if you had the right to do so. Only now did you notice the scars on her back, that shone through the light nightgown. Add to that the snake-like curve of her spine and suddenly you understood why she needed her stick.

"You have scoliosis," you said your thoughts out loud and you heard her hold her breath.

"Congratulations," she hummed miserably.

"You figured it die out."

You nervously began to chew your lower lip.

"Did I make anything wrong?" You asked quietly.

"Ask yourself how you got into this situation, then you will know."

"I- do you want me to go?", Your voice sounded sadder than you actually wanted.

When Miss Venable didn't answer, you felt tears welling up in your eyes as the feeling of fear grew inside you. You screwed it up. Probably the next evening you would end up like Stu as stew.

"No," Miss Venable suddenly whispered before turning to you. The red-haired woman had a blank expression on her face while she watched you cry.

She raised her hand as if to wipe the tears from your face, but she lowered it again and you had to do it yourself.

"M'sorry," you muttered.

"You're stupid if you apologize," Miss Venable replied bluntly.

"That was more than just unprofessional of me, I should have let you go and tomorrow you would have been punished."

You looked at her sadly.

"That's the only solution, isn't it? Punishment."

"I don't know exactly what you're getting at? It's actually quite simple. Those are my rules and whoever doesn't stick to them will be punished for it", Miss Venable looked at you unimpressed and you returned her gaze thoughtfully.

"What about Michael Langdon? Does he have to obey your rules too?" You finally asked.

"What does this mean?"

"Uhm well, I guess I've known you for 18 months now and the first time you seem scared."

Miss Venable raised her eyebrows.

"You don't know anything about me. I'm not even remotely an emotional chaos as you are."

Emotional chaos. Okay she had a point. You blinked a few times to force the tears, that were still glistening in your eyes back down.

"I don't know if emotional chaos is the right word," you muttered.

"You should think less about your stupid feelings," Miss Venable sighed, turning away from you again.

"They've only got you in trouble so far if you ask me."

You pressed your lips together and had to suppress an angry comment, that would only confirm her accusation. Your eyes stared at her back again. The red curls of her long hair had slipped behind her shoulders and were now curling on her back. You would have loved to stretch out your hand to touch it. You would have loved to curl up in her arms to feel safe for the first time in over a year. You wanted to kiss her. Or at least hold her hand. Anything. Just a little bit of their affection would have been enough and you would have been happy. It probably all sounds kind of selfish, because she fucked you a few minutes ago. The whole thing just wasn't particularly loving. You felt like a disgusting animal and now you wanted her to show you, you weren't. Miss Venable was only a few inches away from you and all you had to do was hold out your hand and you would feel her warmth. But while it was actually only a few centimeters, you realized, that there were worlds between you and this woman and that she was probably never further away from you than at this moment.

You and I, we just glide

Through the night

We just drive, we get by

We just glide

Maybe we're just fooling in foolish imagination

Got no destination in sight

You and I, we get by

We just glide

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

Wilhemina Venable had a great talent at pretending everything was fine.

As if nothing happened. Nothing had changed in the days after that night.

Since Michael Langdon was at the Outpost, she avoided private contact with you and the fact, that you had shared a bed didn't change that. In addition, she was just as disgusting to you in front of the others as always and that was nothing new either. And while Wilhemina no longer seemed to care about what had happened between you two, at the same time it almost killed you.

You actually expected, that she would want to talk to you about it again, but nothing had happened and that made you angry. Miss Venable would always deny it, but she was the only one who cared about you. And you appreciated her weird way of paying attention to you so much.

The only problem was, you couldn't even begin to imagine, what was going on in her head. While you were acting like a lovesick teenager, the only thing you saw of her was her deadly serious face.

Oh and Miss Venable was right, you were a fucking emotional mess. Since you woke up the next morning in her empty bed, you have cried a lot again and spent a lot of time in your room, but this time Miss Venable would probably not come to offer you alcohol as medication.

It was the afternoon of any day and you were sitting on the floor, leaning against your bed. In one hand you held a pair of scissors, while in the other you held the skirt of your dress. You were still not used to wearing long skirts after so many months and you still kept poking around at yourself, when walking through the outpost, so you decided to cut your skirts short. Of course you knew, that Wilhemina would probably kill you, if she saw you, breaking her sacred dress code, but fuck Wilhemina. At least you could finally walk properly again.

The triple knock on your door made you look up from your work and you got up to go to the door. You probably should have known it was Miss Venable who knocked. Who else has been interested in you, in the past few months?

"We need to talk," said the red-haired woman firmly, without looking at you.

You just nodded and stepped out of the door frame to make room for her.

For a brief moment you were afraid, that Miss Venable would get angry about the dress, that was lying shortened on the floor next to the scissors, but she just ignored it and stood across from you.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N, I'm just here to ugh- "

Miss Venable was interrupted by you when you, you stupid idiot, reached for her face to angrily press your lips against hers. The kiss only lasted a second in total, because Miss Venable immediately pushed you away from her and the next thing you felt was her hand lashing angrily against your right cheek. A horrified gasp escaped your lips and you looked at Wilhemina in horror as you rubbed your cheek.

"If you do that again, I'll kill you," the redhead growled, glaring at you angrily.

You looked at her hurt and felt tears start to sting in your eyes.

"M'sorry," you muttered.

"Oh of course you are," hissed Miss Venable.

"What the hell were you thinking of?"

"I just- I don't know," you stuttered desperately.

"I think I love you".

Miss Venable's eyes narrowed and she looked like she was going to punch you again.

"This is not love, this is despair, you stupid thing."

"Despair?" You breathed in horror.

"How else would you describe your behavior?" She spat and angrily started knocking her stick on the floor.

"I mean, look at you. You are a total mess. Either you cry in your room all day or you are angry at everything and everyone. You are the only person, who ruins her clothes. You are the one which most often breaks my rules, just because you are too unable to deal with your feelings. You know, everyone can handle what happened, except you, because you are so damn selfish. But you have to wake up.. Do you think, that was what I wanted, when you cried into my bed a few days ago? Oh no. And I know that, was my fault too. You know, everything what I want, is that you obey my rules, but that seems to be too much for your incompetent ass ", Wilhemina scolded and angrily knocked her stick on the floor.

"And now you come and say you love me."

She shook her head.

"As I said, this is not love, this is despair. And I don't know what kind of answer you were hoping for, from me, but let me be clear: In my opinion, of all the residents of the Outpost, you are the most pathetic and I hate you, I really do and you're sick if you even thought it would be different. "

You stared at her in shock. The feeling, that rose in you at that moment was indescribable. A mixture of disgust, shame and anger. But also the feeling of betrayal. And you couldn't say who these feelings were for, for you or for Wilhemina.

"Y-you hate me?" You stuttered, wiping the back of your hand over your cheek to remove your tears.

"I hate everyone in this outpost, that includes you too," hissed Miss Venable.

You shook your head in disbelief.

"I don't believe you," you whispered.

"I still believe, that you are scared and that is why you act like that."

"Mister Langdon will interview you tomorrow," said Miss Venable without responding to your comment.

"If you tell him anything about what happened a few days ago, I promise you will wish you were never born. With your condition, you probably won't be in the sanctuary anyway, but I will don't let me spoil this opportunity from you. Do you understand me? "

You shook your head.

"I don't understand what your problem is suddenly ... I asked you that evening if I should go and you said no."

"The whole thing was a mistake, nothing more", Miss Venable growled quietly and stepped past you to go to your door.

"I hate you and you hate me, that's all that's between us, you understand?"

You wanted to say something, but you decided not to, it didn't make any sense anyway.

"I understand," you said softly.

"Good," replied Miss Venable before turning and walking out of your room.

You stared after her sadly. Of course you didn't understand why she was suddenly so mad at you, but how could you? Miss Venable had wanted to end whatever was between you, so that she would not feel guilty if you were to be murdered by her in a few days. She had never meant to offend you, but she had to make it clear to herself, that she didn't love you. She just couldn't love you.

Show me freedom

'Cause love don't cost a thing

Give me freedom

Yeah don't just let me leave

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

"Miss Y / L / N", Mister Langdon barked and slapped the table with the palm of his hand. You winced and looked disturbed into the blond man's eyes.

"I asked you something".

He leaned down to you and his face was only a few inches from yours.

"Are you in love?"

You swallowed and blinked a few times, before you whispered softly:

"I am not."

The man leaned back and looked at you thoughtfully for a few seconds.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N," he finally sighed.

"You can go."

Without looking at the man again, you got up to run out of the room. You tripped and if you hadn't held onto the wall next to the door, you would have fallen. For a moment you leaned against the wall with your eyes closed and took a deep breath.

This man was disgusting and a little too intimate for your taste, no wonder, that no one liked him.

You opened your eyes again and realized, that Miss Venable was staring down at you as she leaned against the railing.

Your eyes were lost in hers, her almost black eyes in which the light of the torches is always reflected. You wanted to say something, but you were afraid, that she would leave and you didn't want that. Miss Venable had put on her indifferent expression as always and, as always, you did not know what was going on inside the woman.

Your lips formed a mute "fuck you" when you saw her turn away from you to move. And the faint tapping of her cane proved to you, that she was indeed leaving and you knew that she would not come back.

Maybe we're just fooling in foolish imagination

Got no destination in sight

You and I, we get by

We just glide

[olderthannetfic]

It's really surprising that you're so well versed in older fandoms and yet participate in new popular ones (that cdrama, kpop) is this by design? Im in my twenties and my interest turnover is already way slower than it used to be

You know, that’s a really interesting question. I wouldn’t say it’s by design exactly in that I do tend to just follow what strikes my fancy, and I can’t force myself to want to write fic for just anything. (I find it easier to like reading fic without serious involuntary emotional investment, but writing takes more. Vidding I can do on command most of the time, but I don’t usually bother unless I have a lot of feels or I’m fulfilling someone’s prompt.)

However, me getting into BTS was 100% due to me wanting to understand BTS enough to explain to people who weren’t very interested but wanted to know what was going on in fandom lately. Under normal circumstances, I run the dance party at Escapade, the oldest extant slash con. We borrowed vividcon’s thing of playing fanvids on the wall--all of them set to dance music--as the soundtrack for the dance party. This means I’m creating a 3-hour mixtape of fannishness, which has amazing potential to make people feel in the know about Fandom Today... and equal potential to make them feel alienated if nothing they care about shows up. Only about 100-150 people attend the con, so it really is possible to make a playlist that feels inclusive yet informative--it just takes a huge amount of work.

Every year, I do a lot of research on which fandoms are getting big and look for vids from vidders people won’t have heard of, so there is an element of consciously trying to keep up with things. Generally, I only get into these fandoms myself if I had no idea what they were and then suddenly, oops, they’re my kryptonite, like the buddy cop android plot in Detroit: Become Human, which sucked me in hard for like 6 months on the basis of a vid.

(So if you’re into cross-fandom meta and associated stuff as one of your fannish interests, you tend to have broader knowledge of different fandoms, old and new, than if you’re just looking for the next place you’ll read fic. It’s also easier to love vids for unfamiliar things than fic.)

But though I was only looking for a basic primer on BTS, BTS has 7 members with multiple names and no clear juggernaut pairing, not to mention that AU that runs through the music videos and lots of other context to explain. The barrier to understanding WTF was going on at all was high enough that to know enough to explain, I had to be thoroughly exposed... And once I was over that hurdle, oops, I had a fandom.

--

In terms of old vs. new, here’s the thing: kpop fandoms in English and c-drama fandoms in English right now feel a lot like anime fandom in English did in the early 00s. I had a Buddy Cops of the 70s phase in the middle, but my current fannishness is actually a return to my older fannishness in many ways.

What do I mean about them being similar?

Yes, I know some wanker will show up to say I think China, Korea, and Japan are indistinguishable, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the way that I used to routinely meet Italian and French and German fans, Argentinian and Mexican, Malaysian and Indonesian and Filipino too. English-language fandom of SPN or MCU may have all those fans from all those countries, but it feels very American most of the time. English-language fandom of a non-English-language canon is more overtly about using English as a lingua franca.

It also tends to attract people who as a sideline to their fannishness are getting into language learning and translation, which are my other passion in life after fanworks fandom. (I speak only English and Spanish and a bit of Japanese, but I’ve studied German, French, Russian, Mandarin, Old English, and now Korean.)

Nerds arguing about methods of language learning and which textbooks are good and why is my jam. This is all over the place in English-language fandoms of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean media. Those fandoms also tend to be full of speakers coming from a Germanic or Romance languages background who face similar hurdles in learning these languages. (In other words, if you’re a native Japanese speaker trying to learn Korean, the parts that will be hard for you are different than if you’re an English speaker, but you’re also usually not doing fandom in English.)

There’s also an element of scarcity and difficulty of access and a communal attempt to construct a canon (in the other sense) of stuff from that country that pertains to one’s fannishness. So, for example, a primer explaining the genre of xianxia is highly relevant to being a n00b Untamed fan, but just any old thing about China is not. A c-drama adapted from a danmei webnovel is perhaps part of the new pantheon of Chinese shit we’re all getting into, but just any old drama from decades ago is probably not... unless it’s a genre precursor to something else we care about. Another aspect here is that while Stuff I Can Access As A N00b Who Doesn’t Speak The Language may be relatively scarce, there’s a vast, vast wealth of stuff that exists.

This is what it felt like to be an anime fan in the US in 2000. As translation got more commercial and more crappy series were licensed and dumped onto an already glutted market, the vibe changed. No longer were fans desperately trying to learn enough of the language to translate or spending their time cataloguing what existed or making fanworks about a show they stuck with for a bit: the overall community focus turned to an endless race of consumption to keep up with all of the latest releases. That’s a perfectly valid way of being fannish, but if I wanted that, I’d binge US television 24/7.

Anime fandom got bigger, but what I liked about anime fandom in English died, and I moved on. (Okay, I first moved on to Onmyouji, which is a live action Japanese thing, but still.)

Hardcore weeaboos and now fans of Chinese and Korean stuff don’t stop at language: people get excited about cooking, my other other great passion. Times a thousand if the canon is something like The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty, which is full of loving shots of food preparation. People get excited about history! Mandarin and Japanese may share almost nothing in terms of grammar or phonology, but all of East Asia has influence from specific Chinese power centers historically, and there are commonalities to historical architecture and clothing that I love.

I fell out of love with the popular anime art styles as they changed, and I’m not that into animation in general these days. (I still own a shitton of manga in art styles I like, like Okano Reiko’s Onmyouji series.) I’ve become a filmmaker over the last decade, and I’m very excited about beautiful cinematography and editing. With one thing and another, I’m probably not going to get back into anime fandom, but it’s lovely to revisit the cultural aspects I enjoyed about it via live-action media.

BTS surprised me too, to be honest. I really dislike that early 90s R&B ballad style that infests idol music (not just Korean--believe me, I resisted many rounds of “But Johnny’s Entertainment though!” back in the day). While I like some of the dance pop, I just don’t care. But OH NO, BTS turn out to be massive conscious hip hop fanboys, and their music sounds different. I have some tl;dr about my reactions in the meta I wrote about one of my fanvids, which you can find on Dreamwidth here.

--

But back to your comment about turnover: I know fans from the 70s who’ve had one great fannish love and that’s it and more who were like that but eventually moved on to a second or third. They’re... really fannishly monogamous in a way I find hard to comprehend. It was the norm long ago, but even by the 90s when far more people were getting into fandom, it was seen as a little weird. By now, with exponentially more people in fandom, it’s almost unheard of. I think those fans still exist, even as new people joining, but we don’t notice them. They were always rare, but in the past, only people like that had the stamina to get over the barriers to entry and actually become the people who made zines or were willing to be visibly into fanfic in eras when that was seen as really weird. On top of that, there’s an element of me, us, judging the past by what’s left: only people with an intense and often single passion are visible because other people either drifted away or have seamlessly disappeared into some modern fandom. They don’t say they’re 80 or 60 or 40 instead of 20, so nobody knows.

In general, I’m a small fandoms and rare ships person. My brain will do its best to thwart me by liking whatever has no fic even in a big fic fandom... (Except BTS because there is literally fic for any combination of them, like even more than for the likes of MCU. Wow. Best fandom evar!) So I have an incentive to not get complacent and just stick with one fandom because I would very soon have no ability to be in fandom at all.

My appetite for Consuming All The Things has slowed way down, but it also goes in waves, and a lot of what I’m consuming is what I did back in 2000: journal articles and the limited range of English-language books on the history of m/m sex and romance in East Asia. It’s not so much that I have a million fandoms as that I’m watching a few shows as an expression of my interest in East Asian costume dramas and East Asian history generally.

I do like to sit with one thing and experience it deeply rather than moving on quickly, but the surface expression of this has changed depending on whether I’m more into writing fic or more into doing research or something else.

But yes, I do do a certain amount of trying to stay current, often as a part of research for fandom meta or to help other people know what’s going on. Having a sense of what’s big doesn’t automatically mean getting into all those things, but I think some fans who are older-in-fandom and/or older-in-years stop being open to even hearing what’s new. And if you’ve never heard of it, you’ll never know if you might have liked it.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Heaven, Hell and You

John Constantine x OFC (Valarie Moore) 

Masterlist  Chapter 1

Warnings- Violence, biblical references (sort of, I think)

Chapter 2

Humming under her breath, Valerie strolled through the little convenience store in the city. She still donned her uniform, light blue scrubs and white shoes, though thankfully, she was only half as tired as usual. Even better was the fact after her shift gone by, Valerie would have the next twenty four hours off and wouldn't have to see the hospital, and by extension, the ICU for the next day or so. It was her one day off for the week and she was determined to make the most of it. The most beginning with unwinding in a warm bath and a glass of wine. 

The shopping basket was hooked in her crooked elbow as she slowly walked to the liquor aisle, slowing down even further as she passed shelves lined with different kinds of pasta on her way. Maybe she could make herself dinner too, instead of ordering takeout. For a minute, Valerie seriously considered it, but then, remembering how long it might take and how much she'd anticipated doing absolutely nothing, she decided that it could be an activity for some other night and that pizza would do just fine. Once again, she began, head down, cast towards the beat up tiled floor, not even noticing that she was walking straight into someone.

"Shit," she swore, coming into contact with a man's chest, consequently stumbling backwards, "Sorry," Valerie huffed a quiet, breathless chuckle upon noticing how strikingly handsome he was; sharp bone structure, pale skin and raven  hair.

"Its my fault," he dismissed, not even bothering with returning her shy smile. Instead, he shoved one hand into the pocket of his black trench and readjusted his hold on his half filled basket, "Sorry about that," he nodded politely, proceeding to furrow his brows in what she perceived to be confusion. "Do I know you?"

Equally confused, Valerie's lips quivered with questions unspoken, and eventually, she found herself tucking a soft brunette lock behind her ear, the little diamond stud on her earlobe twinkling teasingly, “I don’t think so,” she licked her pink, bare lips, “Maybe I just have one of those faces,” Valerie giggled quietly, though, she could tell by the man’s stare that he wasn’t buying it for a second. It was slightly unnerving, the way he was looking at her, like he actually believed that they knew each other.

“Maybe,” he scoffed, apparently only agreeing cause he really couldn’t place her, “Sorry,” he cleared his throat quietly.

He seemed to shake off whatever he was feeling, moving to go around her before she could even dismiss his apology and assure him that it was all good. As Mr. Tall, dark and mysterious, went about his way, Valerie turned around, sparing him one last glance, trying to ignore the disappointment in their conversation being over. She didn’t really get out a lot, discounting work, and her flirting skills were very rusty, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t know a hot guy when she saw one, and she’d just spoken to one, barely. 

When he didn’t look back, either pretending to not see her or just ignoring her completely, Valerie sighed heavily, continuing towards the limited liquor selection without another look back hoping to eventually dust off her disappointment that he hadn’t shown much interest in her.

2 Weeks Later John usually preferred to drink alone, at his loft, sometimes in front of the television, sometimes while he worked. Needless to say, John didn’t ordinarily visit bars and pubs, but alas, Angela had called earlier that day wanting help with a case, and seeing that she was one of his only friends, he didn’t really think it right to refuse her. So there he was, at some no name, low lit place in the city, nursing a glass of whiskey straightening up when he saw her come through the doors of the place. “Hey,” she smiled softly, still in her work clothes, holster peeking out from beneath her blazer, file in hand, “You got started without me,” she nodded to the glass on the table as she sat on the opposing chair. 

“You took too long,” he huffed, bringing the glass to his lips. The air around them stank of cigarettes, which wasn’t exactly ideal considering that, quitting had been hard, and even a year later, the smell alone still tempted him sometimes. Reaching into his pocket, he dug around for the pack of nicotine gum that he had taken to carrying around, shoving a stick into his mouth before talking again. “That the case?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, handing over the manila folder, “Why don’t you look it over while I go get a drink?” 

Wordlessly, John took it, letting it lay open on the table before him, slowly sipping his drink as his weary eyes scanned the pages, looking for anything that would prove inhumanity. There were definitely some things that looked ritualistic, and John could certainly see why Angela had grown some suspicions; the Latin scrawling and the way the bodies had been mutilated pointed to something supernatural. But John could also easily see the human factors, the little details that showed him the killer was actually human; there were slight discrepancies in the incantations printed in blood on the walls and the marks were hardly drawn with fluidity. “Your guy, whoever he is, is human,” John eventually determined, sliding the folder back towards Angela. 

Slumping her shoulders, she took a swing of her beer, running a hand through her hair with a defeated sigh, “Seriously? I just thought….”

“I can see why,” he nodded, “But here,” he hit one of the pictures with the pad of his fingers, “And here,” he tapped another spot, “These translations don’t make sense. It’s definitely Satanic worship, but not by a half breed.”

“Great,” She groaned, “Now its back to the drawing board I guess…” John didn’t really hear the rest of Angela’s sentence, for when he looked up, he was greeted by a familiar face. It was the girl from his dreams again, and of course, the same one he’d met at the convenience store just about two weeks ago.

Since then, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head, his troubling dreams had only grown more  lucid, and once or twice, he’d even found himself unable to determine if he was actually dreaming until he’d wake up, most times with his heart ready to burst from his chest and his mind a mess. At first, he’d tried to convince himself that meeting her had been a dream too, but now, seeing her walking into the bar, flanked by about four other people, John knew that it was real. She, whoever she was, was real.

And she was absolutely stunning in person, far better than what his mind had managed to conjure up. It wasn’t hard to think that she wasn’t real, John never thought that it was possible for a human to look so……..remarkably flawless. Could humans even be made that perfect? Part of him longed to know her; know who she was, what she was like, why she’d dominated his dreams for months before they’d even crossed paths. But another, though weaker, part urged John to keep his distance, to stay away from her; those dreams had to mean something, and above everything, they meant that she was trouble. 

Still, John found himself, sitting in a wooden chair that didn’t really do anything for his back, staring at the girl he’d been losing sleep over as she stood at the bar, getting drinks while her friends claimed a table. She wasn’t wearing scrubs that night, instead, she’d switched them out for a little black dress that ended above her knees, boasting her very nice legs, with capped sleeves and tiny red polka dots about the entire thing. Though his eyes stayed on her, she didn’t look his way for a second, too busy trying to wave over the buzzing bartender. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Angela snapped her fingers in front of John’s face, rousing his attention. Meeting her frown, John finished off his drink, not really able to lie and say he had been, considering she was very likely to question him on it, knowing full and well that he wouldn’t have an answer. “What are you looking at?” Angela turned in her chair, trying to see what, or rather who, he was seeing. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he huffed gruffly, rolling his whiskey orbs and twirling the empty glass in his hands, “I’m gonna get another drink.”

“Feel free to flirt while you’re at it,” she teased lightly, and he largely ignored her, not even turning Angela’s way as he headed towards the bar. 

He’d had every intention of ignoring her, just like he had when she’d turned around to give him one final glance back at the store, but by some unfortunate coincidence, the only empty spot left at the bar just happened to be right next to where she was standing. Slipping in, John maintained his silence, not even looking at the woman as he leaned on the lip of the varnished, wooden bar top, drumming his fingers impatiently. She didn’t seem to notice him at first, though, all she had to do was turn to the side to  before her eyes lit up in recognition, “It’s you,” she gasped, taking a tentative step back.

Clearing his throat quietly, John didn’t bother to force a smile, smiling wasn’t really his thing anyway, “It is,” he nodded, “Funny seeing you here,” even if he had absolutely no interest in smiling with her, that didn’t mean he was particularly opposed to seeing her smile.

But, alas, she didn’t. John couldn’t blame her though, passing jokes weren’t really his area of expertise, and she just scrunched her face, “Is it though? I mean, its downtown L.A, you probably see the same person three times a week, it’s just, you almost knocked me over, so you actually remember.”

Rolling his eyes again, John shook his head, avoiding her pretty dark gaze. She had nice eyes. No, nice might have been an understatement, she had gorgeous eyes, so dark and bottomless, almost completely black. If given the opportunity, John thought that he wouldn't mind getting lost in them. Maybe that was why he’d been avoiding them so much, because he wanted to mind, because getting lost in her eyes meant he’d have to get to know her, and getting to know her meant letting her in. And his life wasn’t one that allowed for that sort of thing. Besides, he didn’t even know her name. 

“You walked into me,” he argued half heartedly, hoping the bartender would make his way to their end soon. The longer he stayed, the more they’d talked, and the more they talked, the more he’d want to know.

“If I remember correctly, I believe you said that it was your fault,” she quipped, a teasing glimmer in her dark pools, and a smirk up turning her lips.

Huffing a chuckle, John sighed in relief when the bartender drew nearer, “I was being polite, don’t make me regret it.”

“What a gentleman,” the woman taunted sarcastically, no malice in her tone, though, it was laced with subtle intrigue, and before John knew it, she was offering her petite hand, “I’m Valerie, Valerie Moore.”

Reluctantly, John  took her hand, enclosing it in his larger, calloused one, “John Constantine.” As hard as he tried, it was difficult to pretend that her touch didn’t have an effect on him. Her, Valerie’s, hands were so soft, and John felt like just the slightest haste could hurt them. He could see why she was in the medical field though, he could tell by the scrubs she’d been wearing, with the hospital’s name etched on the breast pocket, her hands felt healing. It was hard to describe how, but quickly, John had imagined that anyone graced by Valerie’s touch would feel better about anything in seconds, he knew he did.

Scrunching her face, Valerie giggled as she reclaimed her hand, and by just her relaxed demeanor, so different from how flustered she’d been at the store, it was obvious that she’d probably been drinking even before getting to the bar, “Like the Roman Emperor?”

Snorting, John squinted his eyes, “What?” He fought a smile, caught off guard by the fact.

Glancing down at their feet, her pale cheeks took on a rosy hue, accentuating her thick dark lashes, “It’s nothing,” she mumbled, her giddy giggles softer, “My dad’s a history teacher and sometimes I just-”

“Hey,” a matronly woman, no doubt years older than Valerie interrupted, gently laying a ring adorned hand on her girl’s bare shoulder. Maybe she was her mother, though it didn’t quite seem like it, surely though, she was someone that cared enough to come check in when Valerie was caught in conversation with a lanky stranger, “Everything okay hun?” The short, plump women looked between them, and it was only then that John realized just how close they’d been standing.

“Huh?” Valerie cast her wide innocent eyes towards her friend, “Yeah, I’m fine Martha, I was talking John’s ear off over here,” her blush deepened. She was so, painfully innocent John thought, girls in L.A weren’t usually like that, so blushy and reserved. 

Nodding slowly, Martha gave John a cautious once over, as if determining whether or not he was worth her friend’s company or not, “Okay,” her tone held a skepticism and when the bartender placed a some beers near where they were standing, Martha took a few, only leaving behind one for Valerie, “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, but everyone’s right over there. Right Val?”

“Yeah,” she nodded astutely, “I’ll be right over, thanks Martha.” When the older woman was out of earshot, Valerie turned back to him, offering a shy smile and quick blinks. After, she took a quick, tentative sip of her beer, before speaking again, “Sorry about that, Martha’s just…..protective.”

“It’s okay,” John inhaled deeply, vaguely aware of Angela casting him an intrigued stare from their table. He knew she wasn’t jealous or anything of the sort; they’d tried the whole dating thing for a short stint, after he’d started cleaning himself up and she’d had time to properly grieve for her sister, but in the end, had decided that they were much better off as friends. “I should let you get to it,” he got his drink, another finger of whiskey, “Be careful, okay?” John didn’t know why he’d let himself say it, but the urge might have nagged him otherwise. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that Valerie might be in actual danger. 

“Um,” stunned, Valerie straightened her back, swallowing thickly, “Yeah okay. It was nice to meet you John,” and before he could return her words, just after her smile faltered, she was turning on the flat heel of her black ballet pump and hurrying off towards the group she’d arrived with, and unlike that night in the store, she didn’t look back.

It was late when Valerie and her friends from the hospital had finally decided to leave the bar, nearly stumbling out onto the sidewalk. “You sure you’re good to drive Val?” Damien, one of the other Nurse practitioners, probed before he could start walking in the direction of his own car.

“Yeah,” already, she was rummaging through her little purse for her keys. Of course, she wasn’t exactly sober, but Valerie didn’t live too far away from the place they’d chosen, it was just about a fifteen minute to her place. “I got this,” she laughed giddily, trying to suppress a stumble as she moved away from the group. The rest of goodbyes were exchanged with an air of skepticism, and her friends seemed reluctant to let her leave, but Valerie was a bit past noticing their worry, eventually shaking them off, slowly staggering towards her car, parked all the way at the top of the street. 

Everything was fine, at least for a while until the night chill broke through her thin coat and at some point, the path in front of her started to seem bleary. Worse yet, she was pretty sure that there was someone following her, keeping close the shadows, several feet behind her, their identity shrouded. Unnerved, she sped up, clutching her keys tightly, the metal cool in her palms. Heavy, shallow breaths were hard to contain, and that was when it happened, sending the iciest chill up her spine.

“Precious little Valerie shouldn’t be walking alone. Bad things happen when pretty girls walk alone….” The ragged, hoarse voice seemed closer than it ever had, and then, out from the shadows, merely two or three feet in front of her, was a boy, no older than sixteen, his skin hard and yellow, and his eyes unfocused and glassy. 

Half a panicked scream left her quivering lips and Valerie could feel her heart trying to break through her ribs and leap right out of her chest. In an instant the boy…..or whatever was left of his apparently decaying form lunged for her, barely phased when she swung her bag offensively, hitting him square in the jaw. “What the fuck?” She breathed, too frightened to scream as she stumbled, falling back into the damp sidewalk.

Wildly, she kicked him in the face, not caring if her attempts of fighting back were barely buying her time. It couldn’t end that way; she was too young. “Let go of me!” She violently wiggled her leg out of his grasp, scrambling up and trying to run towards her car, her left shoe slipping off in the process, nearly causing her to slip on the slippery concrete. 

For a split second, Valerie thought that she might have escaped her nasty faith, but nothing was as unforgiving as whatever was after her. Enraged, it’s high pitch, demented shrill rang out ear piercingly, “No!” It reached for the back of her dress, “Valerie comes with me!”

It was over. It had to be, the teenager from hell had caught her. He was stronger than her, or so she thought, and he was about to drag her to whatever hole he’d crawled out from. But then unthinkable happened, all in a blur; a familiar form leaping out of alongside the darkened store fronts, formerly protected by the darkness, was now fighting her battle for her. And much more efficiently too. In what seemed to be an instant, though might have just been minutes sped up by her adrenaline fueled mind, John ‘not the Roman emperor’ Constantine, had the kid pinned down,  splashing what Valerie could only presume to be water, or maybe clear liquor on his face. Really, she didn’t know, but she could tell that it had been enough to weaken him enough, so John could subsequently start reading from a little black book. “Close your eyes,” he growled, taking a minute from his words.

“What?” Confused and scared, it was safe to say that Valerie was having a hard time processing even the simplest instructions.

Taking another quick, very reluctant break, John, more annoyed than ever, simply spat, “Your eyes, close them!”

Without any other reasonable explanation besides not wanting him, or anyone else to viciously attack her, Valerie shut her eyes tight. Her other senses kicked in, working in overdrive, trying to piece together what was going on, though all she could comprehend were John’s continued prayers and then, after a few minutes, a body tackling her, once again knocking to the floor again. It wasn’t the boy though, no, he had smelt disgustingly of sulfur, but this person gave off another aroma; soap, cologne and whiskey. Cracking one eye open, Valerie sighed in relief once her suspicions were confirmed; it was John. 

His face hovered less than an inch over hers, lips so close that it would take barely any effort to lean up and kiss him. Their breaths were shared and Valerie could feel John’s hard chest pressing on her breasts, his weight heavy on hers, though, she didn’t think she wanted him to move anyway. His presence and their proximity was so consuming that she hadn’t even noticed the shattered glass surrounding them, pieces caught in her hair, though his larger body shielding her from the worst of it. “You-”

She didn’t get to finish, for the minute that John realized that he was lingering, holding her down for longer than he needed to, he struggled into a standing position, offering his hand to help Valerie do the same. “You need to come with me,” was all he chucked out when they’d just started grasping their bearings, his fingers enclosed around her upper arm, trying to pull her along.

Though, now sobered by her near heart stopping experience, Valerie fought his grip, almost yelping when she saw the boy laying on the ground, looking far different from how he’d been when he attacked her, and the glass from one of the store fronts completely shattered, “What the fuck is going on?” Her hair was wet from some puddle or the other, her clothes were soaked through too and one side of her shoes was still missing. And that was just the physical damage. What was going on in her head was something entirely different. 

“I can explain this when you’re safe,” he urged her along, not even phased by her fighting.

Trying to yank her arm away, Valerie refused to give in so easily, “And I’m safe with you? I barely know you. And we can’t just leave that kid on the sidewalk.”

“He wasn’t the one that almost died back there,” his low, gruff voice dripped with annoyance, and Valerie could tell that he really just wanted her to shut up. But how could she with all that was going on?

“What was that back there? What the hell was wrong with that kid? Are you a priest, why were you saying Saint Michael’s prayer?” The questions just tumbled out of her mouth, right as she’d finally wrenched herself from John’s grip.

Finally, realizing that she was too stubborn for them to make it to his car, John slumped his shoulders, begrudgingly giving in. Why’d he have to want to save her so bad? “You speak Latin?”

“What?” She scoffed, folding her arms, “I don’t, and if you’re not going to answer my questions, then I’m going back to my car.” 

Turning on her heel, Valerie had just started walking again, when John halted her with a series of brief explanations, “That was a possession, and then an exorcism. That kid was possessed and no, I’m not a priest.” When she turned back to him, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, “Now lets try this again, do you speak Latin? And don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t,” now traded places, with Valerie being the annoyed one, she spoke through gritted teeth, “Why’s that so important to you anyway?”

“You ask so many questions,” he rolled his eyes, “And its important because that’s the only way you would have understood a word of that prayer. Unless you’re a really devout Catholic.”

Taken aback, Valerie’s eyes widened, jaw hanging slack, “I’m not,” she gasped, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d set foot in a church or even prayed. “You…..I….you were…...that was Latin?”

“Well it wasn’t exactly English,” John joked, dry and humorless, only frowning when he noticed her trouble, “But you didn’t know that.” All she managed was a slight shake of her head. “Did you understand what he was saying?”

It couldn’t be. “Yeah,” nothing followed the breathy peep, as Valerie was too busy getting lost in a swirling pool of despair. A demon possessed kid knew her name, tried to kidnap her, and now she could speak dead languages? Maybe she should have just stayed home that night. “What’s…..I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” John grabbed her shoulders, probably thinking it would ground her, Valerie knew the little trick well, it was something she did when patients started freaking out, something about having someone’s comforting touch was centering. “But I might be able to help you, I just need you to trust me, okay?”

Trust him? A man she didn’t know? A man who could probably want her dead, just like some apparent demon.

But his eyes were so sincere, and beneath his cynicism and sarcastic quips, it actually seemed like he cared.

It wasn’t something her father would approve of, and Martha would definitely give her a lecture or two on her naivety, but there she was, thinking that maybe John was exactly who he said he was; someone that could help.

“Okay,” Valerie relented, finally letting John urge her to his car, going wherever he’d take her just so she could have some answers.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea  @luxx-aeterna

[our-heroes-rise]

slip of the tongue

pairing: todoroki x bilingual! reader

request:  Hi, I want to request a scenario for Todoroki. It’s about a reader who is actually his gf, but she talks portuguese as maternal language. When she got nervous, she start to panic in Portuguese, and she’s nervous to meet Shoto’s mom. How he will help her( something like that). I hope you like this idea. 🇧🇷🇧🇷✌🏻✌🏻

hero name: @todoroki-vivian

a/n: hi, lovely! omg yes, you can aboslutely have a todoroki request, i adore this boy. and i loved this idea so much! it was so darn cute. as someone of mixed race who grew up with a heavily hispanic family i think it’s always fun to imagine bringing home one of the bnha boys/girls. seeing how they’d react to be introduced to the sort of music, food, and p a r t i e s that i grew up with. i’d be completely useless teaching them any g o o d spanish though cause my mother never taught me when i was a kid :’). i only know a couple of phrases and the bad words lol. i don’t touch on any of that here because i’m not too familiar with portuguese culture and i don’t want to offend anyone by getting something wrong because i am uneducated on the subjectttt. there’s only like two words of real portuguese in here and they are from google translate because i wasn’t sure what the difference was between the spanish pronunciation and the portuguese pronunciation. OKAY after that whole thing i hope you enjoy this little scenario, i had a lot of fun writing it and it was super duper cute. thanks for requesting baby hero!

word count: 1,717

warnings: none! this is all fluff :)

Your knee bounced with the subtle rocking of the train cart, heel occasionally tapping against the floor when the wheels ran over a bump in the tracks. No matter how hard you tried, no amount of slow deep breaths or mental reminders that everything would be fine, it would go well, would calm the ever growing bundle of nerves buzzing within the pit of your stomach. It crawled beneath your skin, flinching at the tips of your fingers which picked at the worn plastic seal of your seat, pinched at your bottom lip.

You watched the blur of winter barren trees whirl past the window, not really watching at all, thinking of every way not to mess up this very important day. This very, very important day on which absolutely nothing could go wrong because this was - it was his -

A comforting warmth pressed into your shoulder, calloused fingers wiggling their way through the gaps between yours, bringing a halt to your incessant fidgeting. Striking blue and grey find your gaze, softened by the unspoken question of concern knotting his brows.

What’s wrong?

“I’m just - It’s dumb, really,” you laugh softly, able to recognize how terribly ridiculous you would sound now that the words sit at the front of your mind. “I’m just overthinking things. I’m okay.” For extra reassurance, you give his hand a small squeeze, offering a smile.

Your boyfriend doesn’t seem to buy it.

“You’re not okay if something’s worrying you,” Todoroki says, head dipping to catch your eyes as you try to look away to hide your apprehension. “It might help if you talk about it.”

Bottom lip caught between your teeth once again, a soft sigh blows through nose, and you lean further into his shoulder, grateful for the gentle heat that bleeds through your jacket sleeve, soothing your nerves. You drop your attention to the spot where your fingers are now intertwined sitting atop his thigh, his thumb tracing over the ridges of your knuckles, saying he’s content to wait for as long as you need.

Well, at least until the arrival of your last stop where you would inevitably have to step off the train and face the anxiety tearing through your head.

It’ll be fine, stop worrying so much. It’ll be fine, it will be fine, it will be -

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You blurt suddenly, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as the eyes of a few curious strangers flicker over to you. Your face sinks further into the protective cocoon of your scarf.

His thumb pauses briefly before picking up its mindless pattern again. “What do you - ?”

“I - I mean, what if I say something wrong and end up sounding really stupid in front of her.” And the dam came crumbling down. “Your mother. The - like - the most important person in your life! I’d end up making a fool of myself in front of the most important person in your life. Then she might think ‘what’s Shoto even see in her? he could do so much better’. Which, you could, by the way. You could do worlds better but you’ve settled for me and sometimes I don’t really get it because - well - I’m me - “

“I don’t see a problem with that. I like you for you and if you are what settling is then I will gladly never settle anywhere else.”

“But what if she - “ your fingers tighten around him at the thought “- what if she doesn’t think I’m good enough for you? What if she thinks we should break up because she thinks I’m rude and annoying and uneducated?”

“Uhm. . . Y/n.”

“What if she thinks I’m a bad influence on you? I don’t want to make her hate me forever, that would be the worst feeling ever because I know she means so much to you.”

“Y/n. . .”

“That would just put so much strain on our relationship and I wouldn’t want you to feel guilty about what happened, ever. You don’t deserve that. You deserve so much better than that, Sho. I just - “

“Meu Amor.”

The name strikes a chord in your throat, catching you breathless, butterflies swooping in to replace the recoiling knot in your stomach. You whip your head around to find the corners of Todoroki’s lips pulling up in a small fond smile, eyes light with amusement. To begin with, Todoroki wasn’t big on pet names, preferring to use your given name, claiming it was sweeter than any silly nickname could be. Though throughout the seven and a half months you two had been together, he had referred to you with the occasional ‘love’ or ‘hon’. However, the number of times he had used that name could be counted on one hand.

Three. It was three times including right now.

He asked you how to say it while you were teaching him random phrases, goofing around in the middle of what was supposed to be a study session, the question being enough to make your face burn. His pronunciation had been rocky the first time, mouth working awkwardly around the words, throwing you into a fit of flustered giggles that had him pouting adorably at you, mumbling not to make fun of him for trying. But, now? Now his near perfect pronunciation left you wondering how many times he had practiced by himself. 

Meu Amor was the Portuguese phrase for My Love. His love. His love. 

“Y-Yeah?” It’s at that very moment that realize you have slipped out of your usual Japanese tongue, rolling through the tumbling hill syllables of your maternal language. “Oh, s-sorry. I. . . I did the thing again,” you mutter, flipping back to Japanese.

Todoroki huffs a short laugh that makes your heart flutter pleasantly as the sound reverberates through your own chest. “It’s okay, I think I got the gist of what you were saying. It’s cute when you do that, anyway.” He says the last part softly, meant for himself. You press your cheeks further into your scarf, hiding your own shy smile.

Todoroki takes a minute to speak, gazing at the same window you were just a moment ago, lost in thought. 

“Y/n,” he finally says. “Meu Amor, -” four times “- frankly, my mother could care less about who you are. I think you could introduce yourself as a high school drop out with a criminal record and her main concern would still be; do we make each other happy? Do you make me happy.”

You allow yourself to absorb the impact of his words.

“And. . . I make you happy?”

He shoots you an incredulous glance, then snorts when he sees you peaking earnestly above the edge of your scarf. “Irrevocably so. Do I make you happy?”

“It’s impossible for me to think about you without smiling.” You give him a bright cheeky grin when his cheeks flare with a noticeable shade of scarlet that crawls all the way up his neck to the tips of his ears.

“Good. Then that’s more than enough.” He squeezes your hand, pulling you closer into his side. “There isn’t a doubt in my mind that she won’t absolutely adore you the same way I do once she meets you. If she doesn’t already, of course.”

The statement piques your curiosity and you arch one brow at him. “What do you mean if she doesn’t already? Have you. . . Told her about me already -- In your letters to her?”

“I thought you already knew that,” Todoroki says, frowning in confusion. “She’s always asking about you and how you’re doing. I was pretty sure I mentioned it before.”

“What the heck? Shoto you’ve never told me that!”

“Oh.”

“So - So then she’s okay with us being together?”

“I think she’s more than okay with it,” he replies, his quiet smile returning. “It’s possible that she’s more excited than I am for you to meet her, which would be saying something.”

“That would have been nice to know before I rambled off the entire Portuguese dictionary to the whole train,” you grumble, rolling your eyes.

“Sorry,” he says, but it sounds like he’s trying to suppress another laugh. And you really can’t stay upset with him for long.

Rough fingertips push gently at the tips of yours to splay your palm out over his, pressing them together. Lightly you run your nails down the long runs of his fingers, memorizing every bump, scratch, and scar, sweeping your forefinger along the wrinkle of his lifeline, then across his heart line. This - the way you were touching him - may not seem like much at all to anyone else, but it was worth worlds to you. It had taken Todoroki months to comfortably hold your hand, even longer while in public, then some to kiss you for the first time. PDA wasn’t what bothered him (not entirely, at least), it was the displays of affection part. Because of the way he grew up, physical affection was a foreign concept, often leaving him lost and a mess of rigid limbs and awkward apologies. But now, he could easily seek your hand in the middle of a crowded train, or wrap his arm around you in the common room, or press a kiss to the top of your head before the start of class. To know that he had made an effort to open himself up to you, allowing you to see this side of him, the side he had only shared with his mother before, made your heart melt and your eyes swim.

Shoto was right, this was more than enough.

A calm voice announces the arrival of your stop and you two stand as passengers begin to climb off the train. 

“Still nervous?” Todoroki asks, threading his fingers through yours once more now that you have both stepped into the morning rush, not wanting to lose you amongst the chaos.

Letting him guide you through the thick crowd, you smile softly, raising your conjoined hands to press your lips to the back of his.

This would always be more than enough.

“No, I think I’ll be okay now.”

[kaitycole]

Once Upon an Us

Summary: Riley wants Liam, but Liam wants Drake.

Pairings: Liam x Riley, Drake x Liam, Riley x ???

Word Count: 4254

Warnings: (16+) Mentions of cheating and arguing. Vague mentions of sexual relations. Angst. Fluff.

A/N: The wonderful, beautiful, talented @dcbbw requested either Liam x MC angst to Driam fluff. While trying to figure out which one to do, my brain said ‘why not both?’ Here we are. Enjoy! 

Note: In my series ‘A Royal Mess’ I mentioned another empty duchy (similar to Valtoria) as being Mirandola and Leo was tilted the Duke of it, so we’re just gonna reuse it for this one too! This is NOT an extension of that series, btw.

Note 2: I have no idea what this is. A mess, that’s what. But here we go. 

It has been three years since Riley Brooks took Cordonia by storm, quickly becoming the one who won the polls for who the country felt would best serve by Liam’s side. While it didn’t take long the citizens to be smitten with her, a few others around the palace weren’t so captured by her and there was one who remained as icy towards her as he had been from day one.

*                      * The Palace

Liam is sitting at the head of the table, sipping his coffee while reading the various newspapers in front of him. It still surprised him just how different one paper was from another, reporting the same story but from opposite viewpoints, so certain their points were more factual than the others. But as King, it was important to be thoroughly informed.

“Liam.” Riley smiles at him, sitting to his left as a server brings her a plate of breakfast.

“Mm.” He hums in response, not taking a moment to even look from his paper.

She nods slightly before dropping any expectations they might share a meal with playful banter or exchanges common between married couples. Riley smiles when her and Liam’s assistants join them to go over their schedules and upcoming engagements.

Riley just nods as he chews on her bottom lip. She knew what she was getting into, at least she knew to an extent that Liam’s heart belonged to another and she simply made the best stand-in. She knew when she accepted his proposal that she was just playing a role for the Crown, for the citizens of the country, but even with knowing that, it didn’t help the gaping hole in her chest.

“Is the paperwork for Valtoria complete?” Liam asks his assistant who has been jotting down a few notes.

“Almost, Sir. We just need the Crown’s seal and your signature.” His assistant Andrew tells him, an uneasy expression on his face. “Does this weekend still work?”

“Yes. Please make sure my schedule is cleared starting Thursday and leave it open until Sun- no, until Monday.”

“What’s the weekend?” Riley asks innocently, looking at her husband for clarification, who doesn’t bother to look her way.

“It’s when Valtoria is scheduled to have a new Duke placed in power, Ma’am.” Juliet, Riley’s assistant, answers.

“I wasn’t aware that we had picked someone this soon.” “The deci-“ Andrew is cut off when Riley raises her hand.

“I’d like to hear this from my husband. Liam?”

He sighs, annoyed. “I didn’t think you needed to know the details. It’s not like it honestly concerns you.”

Juliet and Andrew share a quick glance before standing up, excusing themselves and bowing as they leave the royal couple alone.

“Is it not enough that you treat me like a burden rather than a wife, but you really have to parade him around?”

“You knew exactly what you were getting into.”

“Don’t pull that card with me, Liam. If I knew it was going to be like this, I would’ve never agreed.”

“You’re the Queen of Cordonia. You have endless funds, endless resources, anything you could ever want or need, but somehow you are still miserable. I don’t understand you, Riley.”

“And a husband who wouldn’t notice if I wasn’t there.” She tries to steady her voice, anger lacing her words, “you promised that you would try!”

Shaking his head, Liam stands up, pushing his chair in with more force than necessary. Riley stands up slamming her hands on the table, letting her anger out as he starts walking out of the room, ignoring her.

“I did, Riley. The results just weren’t for your liking.”

She rushes up behind him, grabbing his suit jacket to stop him which causes him to whip around, anger plastered on both of their faces. He’s leaning down just enough for the two of them to stay nose to nose.

“Do NOT grab me, I am the King!” “And I Queen!” Despite his attempt to shut her down with his aggressive tone, she remains firm. “I won’t be ignored!”

“What do you have to say? I have things to do.”

“You can give him as many fancy titles as you want, Liam. It doesn’t change how the citizens will view him, it won’t change who you’re married to or who will be the one to give the throne heirs.”

As her words are processed, his anger dissipates changing into remorse. This façade cracking as each word sinks deeper into his chest, the realization of just how right she is becoming added weight in his chest. He’s been selfish, not only with his proposal to Riley, but to the man who owns his heart, but what could he have done? One can’t live without a heart, he couldn’t let him go, right?

She stops, knowing she’s wounded him, looking slightly over her shoulder as she adds salt to cut she’s left. “If you’re going to Valtoria this weekend, I’ll be heading to Mirandola.”

He snaps his head and turns to speak, but she’s gone. He knows he has no right to get mad, to demand that she stay home in the palace while he’s away. He feels like he might have had the right had he tried, had he actually upheld his end of the botched proposal he gave her, but he didn’t. He never intended to try with her because if he was being honest, he knew if he had he might’ve ended up regretting dragging her into this mess in the first place. He’d spend every night in his lover’s arms instead of across the hall from the woman he was all but forced to marry, who he forced to marry him under false expectations.

*                      * Valtoria

Liam falls to his side, panting next to his lover as he props himself up on his right side, facing him. Drake pushes his chest off the sheets, a smile on his face as he meets Liam’s eyes. Liam feels his heart melt at the pure adoration in Drake’s eyes because he didn’t care how miserable things were at the palace, in moments like this, the look in Drake’s eyes made up for all of that if only for a few days a month.

Drake places his hand on Liam’s cheek, his thumb caressing the thin layer of stubble on the King’s face. He wrinkles his nose when Liam leans forward, kissing his forehead. “What’s bothering you?”

Liam cocks his head to the side, his fingers running through the brunette’s damp hair. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t shave, that usually means something’s on your mind.”

“Riley said something to me a few days ago, just been on my mind I guess.”

The brunette stiffens at her name, of all the people he remains the only one who refuses to accept her, to try to warm up to her. He bites his bottom lip just enough for it to bleed because he needs to feel something other than this sinking feeling in his stomach. He pushes himself off the bed, grabbing his boxers off the floor, putting them on before gathering the other articles of abandoned clothing.

“Drake, talk to me.” He tries to stop Drake, but he’s just pushed out of the way. “Drake.”

Tears are in his eyes when they look up to Liam’s, his heart already in shattered pieces, “she’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Now it was time for Liam’s heart to break, to become a mess of jagged edges piercing into his chest. He wanted to be hurt, to question why Drake would doubt his love for him, but he can’t be because it’s only natural. Neither he nor Riley had ever brought it up, but it was something that always lingered in the air, something that eventually would start to be expected from the royal couple. Leo and Liam had both, in their own ways, shook the foundation of the throne, an heir would help stabilize it once more.

Liam pulls the other into an embrace, tightly wrapping his arms around him. He places both hands, one on each side of Drake’s face, pulling his face up to look at him. Drake’s eyes are red and puffy, but he still looks handsome to the King. Liam presses a chaste kiss to his lover’s lips, deepening it with hopes his love could be translated through the gesture.

Their actions are desperate as sloppy, wet kisses trail each other’s necks, Liam’s fingers toying with the waistband of Drake’s boxers as they attempted to make their way to the bed. Their steps get tangled together causing them to fall to the floor, small laughter coming from both of them. Drake shakes his head when Liam tries to get up, pinning the raven-haired man’s arms above his head as he straddles him. Liam smirks, both noting this will be the second day they fail to leave the grand suite of Valtoria.

*                      * Mirandola

“You could always just get an annulment.”

“And go back to waiting tables in New York?” She shakes her head, “how do I go back to black and white when I’ve seen color?” Leo offers a small smile, looking at her over his reading glasses. “I’m sure you could talk him into gifting you one of these lovely duchies. Valtoria is lovely this time of year.” She tosses him an annoyed look which gets her a chuckle from the abdicated prince. She knows that she’d be able to get something if all of this ended, the façade, the sham of a marriage, but part of that feels wrong. She just wanted to be happy, that’s why she left New York to begin with, she thought this would be a magical adventure. Something should’ve clued her in when Drake never let up his annoyed glances at her or how he tried to interfere with every secret meeting Liam would ask Riley to attend.

At first, Riley flattered herself, thinking that Drake had feelings for her, but then a drunken Maxwell let it slip that Drake and Liam had a relationship deeper than just best friends. That the social season might’ve been traditional protocol in the public’s eye for a Crown Prince, but that his father was using it as an alternative method to separate them.

“Did you hear? Drake now owns Valtoria.” She smiles as Leo chokes on his tea, coughing as he tries to breathe. “Liam is up there now.”

“I didn’t know he had it in him.”

“To parade his lover around as if he doesn’t have a wife?”

Leo walks behind her, leaning close to her ear, his hot breath dances around her bare neck, “aren’t you doing something similar? You are here after all.”

Riley watches as he walks out, tossing her a wink before he leaves the dining room. Her shoulders drop, knowing that he’s right. She doesn’t have any moral high ground to stand on, while she didn’t make it a hobby to think about whatever her husband did at Valtoria, she knew what she was doing here was no better.

Falling into Leo’s bed wasn’t something she thought she would ever do. She really did love Liam, she wanted things to work, why else would she agree to the fucked-up arrangement? It broke her heart to watch him turn colder and colder towards her when all she wanted was the chance to win him over. But she allowed herself to believe that one Rhys was just as good as the other, not that Leo cared whose name she called out anyways.

*                      * Valtoria

“Pout all you want. I can’t stay babe.” Liam laughs, pulling Drake into a kiss.

“But we never finished our talk from Friday?” Drake once again pokes out his bottom lip at the King who has been trying to leave for the last hour.

Liam had been hoping that Drake would’ve dropped the subject over the weekend, he figured between the strenuous workouts and the ceremony making him the newest Duke of Valtoria would keep him occupied, but he was wrong.

“She said it didn’t matter how many fancy titles I gave you, it wouldn’t change anything.” Liam shakes his head, “that at the end of the day it was her with me and not you.”

He turns his head, looking at Liam with the same adoration he always had, since they were kids, “she’s with you on paper, so what? I get the side of you no one else does.”

“But don’t you feel cheated?” Liam sighs, “or like I’m just being too selfish? Maybe I should’ve fought my father more.”

Drake kisses Liam, rendering him speechless which makes both of them smirk. “Hush. If you’re being selfish, I’m being just as selfish. I just want you, Liam.”

“One day, it won’t be like this anymore.” Liam promises, pressing one more kiss to Drake’s lips before letting him go.

“I know.” Drake waves, finally letting Liam leave to go back to the palace, back to her.

*                      * The Palace

It’s late when Riley stumbles back into the palace, getting a few not so nice looks from the maids who are getting ready to head home. She gives them an ‘I’m sorry’ smile as she tiptoes up the stairs up to the right wing of the palace.

Within that wing, was the traditional royal suite where most royal couples stay together, sharing the bed chamber. However, in their situation, Liam opted to take a room just down the hall while Riley kept the original set up. Just few apart from one another, but it felt like miles worth of distance.

“Enjoy your weekend?”

Riley jumps, her heart beating against her ribcage, if she was a cat she’d have lost a life or two for sure. Typically, Liam was either in his room or office, they didn’t have many run ins this late at night.

“Did you?” She bit back, regretting it once she realized his words were sincere. Although she wasn’t shy about the way her eyes lingered on the purple marks accompanied by bite marks that covered his chest and shoulders which caused Liam to regret his decision to not wear a shirt.

“I did a lot of thinking.” He crosses his arms, feeling embarrassed under her gaze, trying to cover up as much as he could.

“I did as well.” She sits down on the edge of the bed, sighing.

“I think we should start the annulment process.” Liam says as Riley says, “I want us to give it one more try.”

Both quickly respond with, “what?”

“If we try and things don’t work out, I won’t ask for another try. I just don’t want to have any regrets.”

“Riley, I can’t do that. You know that.” He shakes his head.

To Riley, Liam is being stingy and selfish. He’s been an asshole to her because she’s fairly convinced that if he gave her a chance, she could win him over. She knows that they could be happy, that she’s the best thing for the throne and that’s what hurts the most. The fact that she knows she’s found her true love, the one she should be with, but he just won’t open his eyes and accept that.

To Liam, Riley is being irrational. He knows that giving her a chance would be leading her on because he can’t give her what she’s looking for. Not just that he can’t, but he won’t. What people don’t seem to realize, Riley included, is that he’s loved Drake for as love as he can remember, that with Drake it’s the kind of love that starts wars, breaks family ties, it’s the kind of love people write sonnets about. It may seem like he’s fine with the arrangement, but he’s not because if Leo is different that all the other Rhys before him, it’s that he actually hurts when he causes other’s harm.

“Why can’t you?” She yells, her anger turning into tears as they stream down her face.

“I can’t hurt him like that. I can’t hurt him anymore than I already have.”

“But you can hurt me? You asked me to do this!”

“I told you how things would be. I never lied.”

“But you never said it would be this bad!” Her voice cracks, the sobs breaking apart her words.

“Riley.” He squats down in from of her, taking her hand in his. “I never meant for you to get this hurt. I’ll do whatever it takes to try to make this up to you.”

“All I ever wanted was you, Li.” She throws her arms around his neck, pulling him into her chest. He stumbles at the force of her action, sighing in defeat as he wraps his arms back around her.

*                      * Valtoria

Drake walks through the duchy, other than a few servants and maids, he was the only one there. It’s empty and lonely, the opposite of how he spent his life growing up by the palace and he hates it. There’s the buzz of construction outside, Liam was having a stable put up or remodeled, honestly Drake lost track of everything lately.

He’s walking through the foyer when he sees a few black SVUs pull up, a smile spreads across his face because he knows Liam’s there. Drake’s surprised because Liam usually waited a few weeks before making another visit, but he surely wouldn’t complain.

Rushing to the door, he opens it, running down most of the walkway before throwing his arms around the King, the hell with whoever saw, he really didn’t care. But Liam doesn’t return the embrace, he doesn’t pat his back or anything. Instead he pulls away, slowly meeting Drake’s eyes with a solemn look on his face.

“We need to talk.”

*                      * Mirandola

Leo walks into his study and looks panicked when he sees his brother sitting behind the desk. He knows the look on Liam’s face, the same one he got a lot growing up by his father and Bastien, one that just radiates disappointment. A chill runs down his spine as he tries to keep up a poker face, pacing out each step slowly as he creeps closer to the desk.

The blonde eventually gets to the chair in front of Liam and he sits, wondering if this dread he’s feeling is felt by those who sit here when he’s on the other side of the desk. It’s been a very long time since he’s felt this way, since a King has made him feel so, so small.

Liam shuffles the papers that are in front of him, tapping them on the desk to straighten them out before finally making eye contact with his brother.

“I didn’t do it!” Leo quickly blurts out until he realizes that he’s a grown ass man and that what a child would say.

“Oh, but you did.” Liam smiles a smile that’s closer to the Cheshire Cat rather than a caring brother. “I guess congratulations are in order.”

Leo has always hated riddles, always hated people beating around the bush when it came to what they needed to say. It’s the same reason he hates the cringy small talk before one asked for a favor, he finds it all pointless and Liam knows this which makes Leo’s stomach drop. Whatever it is, it’s bad enough for Liam to toy with him.

“Don’t look so grim, brother. A child is always something to celebrate.”

C-c-child? Leo suddenly can’t breathe. His thoughts are becoming a jumbled mess.

“Don’t fret. I already have things in order.” Liam holds the stack of paperwork out for Leo, who is shaking as he grabs it.

“In order?”

“Yes.” Liam clears his throat. “Riley couldn’t take the stresses of being queen which lead her to seek comfort with you. Since regardless of which Rhys is the father is, it’s still an heir which means she’ll be moving into Mirandola after a quick marriage ceremony.”

“Guess you get everything you want.”

“No, actually I don’t.” He shakes his head, “I didn’t want her name drug in my mud, Leo. I may not have loved her, but I care for her and I was working out a way that would be easiest for her to still show her face at royal events without whispers.” Leo bites back any further comments knowing that he’s been thinking poorly of his brother for no reason. He should’ve guessed Liam would look out for her, he wasn’t joking when he said Riley wouldn’t be left empty-handed, but it was his doing, the abdicated prince once again tarnishing the very things he wants to keep precious.

“Chin up, brother.” He turns to walk out of Leo’s office. “Oh, don’t worry, hopefully you’ll make a better father than brother.”

*                      * Valtoria

“Duke Walker!” A reporter calls out trying to grab the attention of the man who just wants to disappear.

“Your Grace! Your Grace!”

He turns to the sea of cameras and flashing lights, briefly wondering if this overwhelming feeling was something Liam got used to or if he still wants to shrink under this uncomfortable pressure.

It had been a few months since Liam told him about Riley’s pregnancy, how they’d be handling things on that end and Drake was told to wait which he has been. He’s been waiting since they were 8 years old, blinding following Liam around like a pup without a home. At 28, you’d think he’d stop following so blindly, try to step out from the sidelines, but it’s where he felt most comfortable.

“Duke Walker, what’s next for you and the King?” “Your Grace, will you be leaving Valtoria for the palace?”

“What do you have to say about the pictures of you and King Liam holding hands, Your Grace?”

Drake takes a deep breath, wanting to just turn around and leave, but his feet feel frozen in place. This wasn’t his thing, Liam always stood front and center. If Liam was north then Drake was south, if Liam was day then Drake was night and for their whole lives he liked it that way.

“The Duke of Valtoria won’t be answering any questions today.”

A few wide eyes and gasps from the reporters have Drake turning around to see Liam walking up behind him, a smile on his face. It takes everything in him to not run up to his lover, beg him to get rid of the press so he can kiss him, but he can’t. He gives Liam a small smile as he walks up, stopping at Drake side.

“Your Majesty.” The reporters take a moment to bow slightly as he throws up a wave.

“I think we have time to answer two questions.” He looks over at Drake who gives him a slight nod.

“Your Majesty, what brings you to Valtoria today?” De Luca asks, looking over her sunglasses.

“That’s simple, I have to ask Duke Walker a question.”

He wouldn’t? Drake’s eyes widen as he looks at Liam, who is completely calm whereas the Duke’s heart is beating out of his chest.

“King Liam, are the Duke and you the newest royal couple?” A newer reporter asks, getting a few looks from his veteran colleagues.

“That would depend on his answer to this question.”

Drake closes his eyes, nerves completely shot at this point, trying his hardest to breathe in and out at a steady rate. When he opens them, he sees Liam down on one knee in front of him, the presses snapping pictures rapidly.

“Li…”

“Are you gonna let me speak first?”

“No.” “Drake.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. In front of everyone.” “Quickest way to get the word out.” “I could say no.” Drake crosses his arms, momentarily forgetting they aren’t alone. The press having an absolute field day with the playful banter between the King and his oldest friend.

“You wouldn’t dare.” He feigns shocks, a hand on his chest, biting back a smirk, “you’d embarrass me in front of the whole country? The whole world?” “Isn’t that what you’re doing to me by asking me this right now?”

Liam shakes his head, “I haven’t asked you anything yet, you haven’t let me.” “Fine. Ask me.”

“Will you attend the royal masquerade with me tonight?” “I wi-wait, what?” Drake’s jaw drops which is quickly followed by the press having the same reaction.

“What did you think I was going to ask?” He stands up, whipping on the knees of his pants. “Drake, did you think I was going to propose?”

Drake’s face turns red with embarrassment, “well you did get down on one knee.” “My shoe lace was undone. I didn’t want to trip.” Liam smirks, “that could’ve ended embarrassing, what if you said no?”

“My point exactly.” Drake’s grumpy demeanor surfacing from a mixture of embarrassment and slight disappointment.

“But would you?”

“Would I what?”

Liam smiles, pulling a small box out of his box, remaining on his feet this time. The flash of the cameras once again all but blinding the pair. There’s a silver band inside the box when Liam opens it.

“Would you marry me?”

Drake buries his beet red face into the crook of Liam’s neck as he’s pulled into a hug. He mumbles something just loud enough for Liam to be the only one who hears it which makes the king laugh. Liam whispers something back which brings a sigh from Drake’s lips as he lifts his head up.

“Yeah, I’ll marry you.”

[our-time-is-now]

June 24, 2019 (1): I thought that was an undershirt

(previous play)

You can find more information about the authors, translators, content  warning and additional information about the plays in the pinned post on  our blog.

Attention! This play includes transgender topics. For more details see our interjection.  

Monday, 3:23 pm:

WhatsApp, David/Carlos:

Voice message from Carlos, 3:23 pm: Hey Brudi, I just googled swimming and transgender because I wanted to know what you were talking about and it's really interesting what kind of stuff there is. Well, those swim binders you were talking about... anyways, I wanted to say sorry again in case I somehow offended you on Sunday... well, I'd find it really cool if you could come into the water with us, but I also read some experience reports and stuff and there are really a lot of trans people who don't go into the water at all, and some who don't mind at all... so because of that dysphoria or what it's called... ey, all of that's totally new for me... so, what I actually wanted to say: Everything's chill! Do whatever you want to! But I would still love it if you came into the lake with us! And the others, too, I think. And I don't think that anyone would mind or look at you weirdly if you wore such a swim binder thing.

David, 4:30 pm: Don't worry about Sunday. I just wasn't used to talking about it openly until I met you guys and sometimes it's still a little difficult for me. But I actually think it's a good thing that you guys are so interested in that topic and also that you ask questions when you want to know something. So yeah... dysphoria is quite the key word. I just have to see how I’m feeling when we're on holiday – I'm not saying that I definitely won't go into the water with you... but anyways, it's cool that you did some research.

Carlos, 4:35 pm: I've read some more... not about dysphoria, I'll do that later. But if you say that it's okay for us to ask questions then I have one for you: Those binders – there aren't only those for swimming. Do you really wear that every day?! :-O

David, 4:39 pm: Correct, there aren't only those for swimming. The swim binders are made from a different material. And yes, I wear a binder every day – at least whenever I'm amongst other people.

Carlos, 4:43 pm: Woah! I really never noticed... well I've never really thought about what it looks like under your shirt in the first place – I didn't mean to offend you with that. Not even when I first learned that you were trans. I always thought that it was an undershirt or something like that...

David, 4:45 pm: *several laughing emojis* That's somehow cute!

Carlos, 4:46 pm: I'm not cute :-P

Carlos, 4:50 pm: But aren't those things super uncomfortable!? I mean, doesn't that bother you... especially now that it's summer?

David, 5:03 pm: Let's put it like this: It would bother me more if I wouldn't wear one. Because then you could see – depending on what I wear you can see it more or not as much – that my body just isn't as male as I would like it to be. Those things aren't really comfortable but you get used to it. It's just that they press down on your chest, lungs and ribs. That's why it's recommended to not wear them more than 8 hours at a time... if I wear it for too long then at some point it gets more difficult to breathe and my back hurts...

Carlos, 5:05 pm: And it's not an alternative to simply not wear it? Well, at least when we’re amongst us... none of us would care if you can see something or not...

David, 5:09 pm: I would care.

David, 5:13 pm: It was already hard for me to take the binder off in front of Matteo. But since we're basically together all the time, at some point I couldn’t really avoid it anymore. But it took a lot of willpower and time to not feel uncomfortable without it in his presence. If you're interested in that topic than maybe you really should read some more about dysphoria.

Carlos, 5:15 pm: I will. But still, it's quite an ordeal – as if forcing someone who only wears sweatpants to wear a suit every day...

David, 5:16 pm: Like I said, you get used to it. But I'm still looking forward to after my surgery when I don't need to bind anymore.

Carlos, 5:15 pm: Woah, chest surgery?! To remove your breasts? You really want to get that done!? When?

David, 5:22 pm: The application for cost coverage for a mastectomy has been approved 4 weeks ago. Now I have appointments for consultations at hospitals. Once I make a decision at which hospital I want to have the surgery done it will still be another 3 to 6 months before I can expect an appointment.

Carlos, 5:24 pm: Ey, I only have to read application ... sounds like a similar hassle to what you had to do with your ID.

David, 5:26 pm: Yes, it's similar.

Carlos, 5:28 pm: Ey, Brudi, I keep my fingers crossed. I really will go and do some more research on dysphoria and stuff... I don't want to always put my foot in my mouth...

David, 5:32 pm: Don't worry about it – I'm slowly getting used to you guys putting your feet in your mouth and I'm actually quite glad that you're all so open about it. It does make it easier for me in the long run, even though I never would have thought that. So if you have questions feel free to ask again.

Carlos, 5:33 pm: I will, thanks, Brudi!

David, 5:34 pm: Speaking of being open: Have you talked to Kiki yet?

Carlos, 5:37 pm: Noo, not yet... we're going to meet up tomorrow. I'm a little scared...

David, 5:39 pm: You can do it! I'll keep my fingers crossed!

Carlos, 5:40 pm: Thanks!

(next play)

[dreamlikeapsycho]

I saw the max facts (pun intended 😂) you did for that question a while ago. So I was wondering if maybe you could tell us some more facts about Max it doesn’t have to be anything too detailed but anything you know would be nice to know, pretty please 😊

Okay... RANDOM FACTS ABOUT MAX - PART 2

I went on deep analysis mode this time to try and say all of Max's little nice and cute moments I know of.. Pls take notice, tho!! I'm not trying to flex or anything, I'm just a simple peasant girl on Maximilian's kingdom for a long time and it happens I have FBI blood in my veins 😭 so It's all gather on my brain and hard drive lol SO! I'm just answering this ask with a lot of thought and care so you can know more about Max and how he is even more awesome than you think!!! (And just in text form, cause Max doesn't need to be tagged on more personal stuff on IG (there’s too much illegal fishing at my tumblr pond already! 👏). It’s probably weird to know certain things, yes, but at least I'm respectful, I'll never bother him with this kind of stuff). Well, enjoy the bible below to end up knowing very little about him, still haha.. Just some more small facts.

- Max was at a barbecue just yesterday. It was someones birthday from the set of his new movie. He drank his beer, like usual, idk about the meat.. there was wurst and chicken.. I'm not sure if he's trying to be a vegetarian or not (after that thoughtful video he posted) 🤔.. maybe he didn't eat it, I don't know!!

- a little while before the start of this shooting, he was at the Baltic Sea filming for the series he's gonna be in (just one episode again! Don't get your hopes too high lol he's gonna be a security guard who disappears mysteriously, so....)

- He helped his friend renovate his house a few weeks ago!! How could I forget that on the first post.. Then, he had to go to Hesse for the movie shooting, and his friend had to call another friend to come help him lmao damn

I think I could describe some videos I have then... at least there's some cool and funny stuff. (Friends himself tagged in the past and cast friends)

- Max's dad went to the same uni as him. Also, he voiced a police officer on the phone in a short film Max wrote and directed all by himself (he didn't act on it, but he was also another police officer over the phone haha). Another thing, his dad made the official music for one of his plays.

- The falafel day.. his friend was taking a piss filming Max at the shop from afar and zooming in, saying "omg, guys! I found Noah from Dark! He's right there buying falafel" lmao, then, Max is just standing there looking all wonderful with his perfect hair and such, moving his hands, scratching his chin, ordering his food, and his friend talks some more, doing like a rough Max voice "yeah yeah, I'll have that one. Good, yeah". 😂

- the day he went to take a walk in nature. His friend asks him for a cigarette, he is denied, he goes to take it anyway, Max slams his cup of tea on the table and tries to take his cigarette back and it's all black and they're just laughing lmao (I love his laugh btw, so giggly!)

There was storys posted by Max himself.. so, maybe you saw it, but it's from before dark s3 came out.

- The pigeon storys. He filmed two pigeons chasing each other at the station, one always running from the other and he captioned "me trying to flirt" haha

- He screen recorded an ad for an app that deletes people from pictures and made some joke too, I can't remember exactly what he wrote, smt like "when you break up, but still wants to keep the picture" lol also, he unfollowed like 5 people that week after posting that... hm 👀

- he posted a video of him walking in the dark with really cold wind.. you can only see his hair flying around. Also, with a mask on, another chasing a cat in a big field, and that one drinking his coffee and eating his yogurt (you most likely saw it already)

- Ohh.. His friend was playing Max's drums the other day!!! Made a lot of jokes, it was obvious he was messing around in Max's room (maybe they live together, maybe he just waters the plants lol idk). Some of the jokes were "I've been playing this drums since 1921" and "the drums and me are a perfect pair, don't ever believe otherwise". I wonder what Max said to him.. he can't do anything about it, he's not in Berlin hahah. He has a little giraffe in his room, and other home decors (you can see it on his drumming video on his own IG)

- he likes to read on longer train rides.

- there's a video of him screaming inside a wardrobe after being jumped by a friend and one of him putting lipstick on with the song "I'm a sexy motherfucker" playing in the background hehe we was tagged, it was easy to find when there wasn't much tagged post.

- There's moments of ppl filming something/themselves and he just comes and photobombs it lol he is just like thiss 👏 showing his tongue and doing a funny face and such. One of those I saw it on the IG of a Das Boot cast member I actually already followed before.

- this group was such a blast. There's a few pictures, one of them he's in a dress, he has white stockings on til his thighs, heels and all haha lovely

- His improv-group.. he was almost in tears singing "I believe I can fly" with the group on their last day.. But he was happy! A mix of emotions. He loves everyone, he expresses his love a lot to people in general, he says it and adds heart emojis to make sure haha you can see his comments going on IG of his cast friends, especially from Das Boot (I followed a lot of the guys). So, about always commenting something funny on people's posts.. I didn't saved those, so I forgot most of it, but one I remember was that someone posted a video of a hailstorm and he was like "what are u doing, free ice!! Go grab them" hahaha

- Max has that Noah picture where he's peaking by a wall (you know that one Baran posted) printed and framed! 👏

- Things he’s pretty much always with: his backpack and his big headphones (it's always on his neck. At almost every picture, from every year, with different people etc. I was confused when he had normal headphones at his farm storys. Maybe he forgot them in Berlin 😭. Besides those, his rings, necklaces and bracelets (always, for years and years! Same ones, even). He uses frequently on premieres, as I saw it. Sometimes they also show up on his characters in his one-episode works!! Hahah is so nice when that happens. You can notice this on my screencaps.

- that pic of him that is everywhere now (with glasses, holding a bottle of champagne), I posted that months ago.. There's 2 more pics and 1 video. One pic, he is pretending the automatic lighter that's on the table is a Harry Potter wand (but I think I cropped the table, right.. I can't remember). This was actually posted by Max himself and he tagged his friend who took it. I went to see if they posted smt and there was a picture where he is literally biting the cork of that bottle off with his teeth Lmaoo, and one video.. he is talking on the phone trying to block the view with his feet.. this man!!

- he really doesn't care about buying too much unnecessary clothes and shoes and stuff. He is mindful of his things and the environment!! 

- there's a video of him on the set of Der Zauberlehrling, I need to recall where I got that from (maybe I could share this one. I'm not sure), he is messing with the broom and someone asks him "hey Max, what's that animal?" and points to the fluffy microphone. He says "it's a fucked up coala bear" (in english) 😂

Again.. I can't say names or anything, cause ppl are not mindful! Like.. I know I'm probably weird, but only for myself and my FBI office LOL I don't go over there and follow/reply to all these people’s posts and storys or take their videos and tag Max on them, this is just not.... nah. I'll always be respectful (yeah, some older stuff has gifs, cause he had like 10k followers, and 5 fans on tumblr lol But i never sent/tag him in anything personal directly.. that’s why i only posted on tumblr for the past year, in fact! I never thought things would be the way they are now a year later.. so, newer stuff it's not posted/gif nor ever will). I don't want him to be weirded out and like, disappear from IG!! I think about these things.. when people are being weird and stuff towards him. I don’t know how ppl don’t think about this when tagging him recklessly in random pictures and videos!!!

I wish he had more interviews, so we could know more proper stuff about him. (The few interviews he has are translated on my IG highlight. There's still an 8min interview missing there, cause I'm contemplating about being more of a bother to german speaking people, since I only have basic german..

[missnight0wl]

Isolation

Summary: Have you wondered what Rowan is up to after their “death”?

I recommend reading “Six minutes” first.

Words: 3215

Winter, 1990

Rowan didn’t remember much about what happened right after she was revived. She wasn’t sure how they got to Rakepick’s house – or what she assumed was Rakepick’s house. She passed out shortly after arrival, and according to Jacob, she was asleep for the whole day.

“It’s good, you need to rest,” he told her. “The thing is that Rakepick and I have to leave now, only for a while. Can you manage on your own?”

Rowan knew that he’s asking rather for formality sake, so she simply nodded. After that, she was instructed where she can find necessary supplies like food and medicine.

“You can use the study if you want,” Madam Rakepick added when they both were ready to go. “Just keep your wand by your side, Miss Khanna”.

Rowan stiffened a bit hearing that remark. “I thought it’s safe here.”

“It is.”

“But it’s always better to be cautious,” Jacob hurried to explain. “You’ll be fine as long as you’re inside. And you won’t be alone for long, hm?”

The empty house appeared overwhelming at first, but Rowan quickly got distracted by pain. It could’ve been from the curse, from the physical impact she experienced in the Forest, or maybe from the times they had practised her timing with the Banishing Charm. Most likely, it was due to all of that combined. Potions and ointment were helpful just enough to let her focus on anything else. She wouldn’t dare to snoop around, she wasn’t even tempted to. But since there were plenty of books available and she had permission to use them, time was passing pretty fast.

It had been three days when she finally heard the front door opening. Madam Rakepick appeared at the doorstep of the living room where Rowan was spending most of her days so far.

“How you’re doing, Miss Khanna?”

“I’m fine,” Rowan replied quickly.

The Curse-Breaker glanced at a small pile of tomes next to the girl, yet she didn’t comment. She got to her business in other parts of the house, leaving Rowan to herself. Then she left for a night. The similar situation repeated a couple of times in the next week. Sometimes, Madam Rakepick would ask her more questions or suggest her reading particular titles out of nowhere. Other times, she said nothing at all and just watched her carefully. No matter what, it always made Rowan a bit uneasy. Until one day, the front door opened once more, yet it was someone else who came in.

“Hi,” said Jacob blithely, popping into the room with Sickleworth on his shoulder. “How you’re feeling?”

Rowan got surprisingly happy to see him again. She could definitely use some change in the company. Besides, she actually grew to like him during that short period they knew each other, even though they had a quite hard start. A lot of things had rocked the girl’s world at that time. For one, she had to process the fact that Madam Rakepick is not evil - or at least that there’s the bigger plan behind her actions – and that she’s not going to actually kill her. Rowan was often worried about that even before the events of the Buried Vault, so overcoming it after everything was a huge deal. And then, she met Jacob – her best friend’s infamous brother, whose second disappearance was maybe as devastating as the first one. Should Rowan be angry with him because of her loyalty to Helena? But then, all of that was supposed to protect her, and not only her… There was also the fact that Jacob was older, more powerful, and appeared to be able to easily kill her as well if he wanted to. It required some kind of respect. Rowan had been conflicted. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she already had a difficult time around new people, even without those additional factors! Now, it seemed rather silly, and she still felt awkward about the moment when she called him “Mr Ellis”.

“Just call me Jacob, please,” he said then, partially amused and embarrassed. The young witch could swear that Rakepick smirked at that too.

Unlike his associate, Jacob didn’t leave shortly after his arrival, and he hung about for the next day. In fact, it turned out that he’s staying for longer. Rowan thought at first that it could be strange to have him around all the time. However, he was doing fine at being busy with his things, and usually, he wasn’t paying much attention to her. Not that she felt ignored. It was simply… natural. Sometimes, she was peeking at him curiously when she entered the study for new books, trying to figure out what he’s working on, but it was hard to tell if he’s noticing her at all. Unless he was smoking at the moment, that is. Then he would stand up almost immediately to open the window.

“Don’t tell Rakepick I smoke in here, okay?” he tended to say with a coy smile.

One day, he came downstairs and sat in the armchair, putting his legs over an arm rail – almost like his sister used to do in the Ravenclaw Common Room.

“What is it?” he asked suddenly, making Rowan realise that she’s staring at him. She shook her head, startled. “You look like you want to ask me about something, so…?”

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just… I’m sometimes noticing how you and Helena are similar.”

“Is that so? O.W.L.s were so hard on her, huh?”

Rowan didn’t understand right away, but then it occurred to her that when he smiled, you could see small wrinkles on his face. That he had bags under his eyes and single grey streaks among his dark hair. He looked tired and ill, even if he was making up for it with his attitude. It must’ve been caused by the Vault. Come to think about it, it was odd that Helena had never really mentioned his physical state. On the other hand, perhaps it’s understandable for a sister to focus more on his behaviour. Everything was always happening so fast, after all.

“Oh no, not like that! That’s not what I--”

“I know, that’s all right.” He smirked and spaced out for a moment. “I’ve got something for you. Wait here.”

He jumped out of his spot and ran back upstairs. When he returned, he was holding a purple notebook, marking some pages with his finger.

“When Helena was ten, I bought her a diary for Christmas,” he started explaining.

“I know, she was writing in it quite a lot.” Rowan recognised it as soon as she saw it. It wasn’t the exact same diary – the one Helena owned was more worn-out, and it had stickers and drawings on the cover, but they could’ve been indistinguishable when they were new.

“Yeah…” Jacob seemed to be pleased to hear that. “Though she probably didn’t know that it’s a two-way notebook. I never had a chance to explain it to her because, y’know…” He paused and cleared his throat. “Anyway, that’s the second notebook from the pair. I left it here long ago and nearly forgot about it. I normally wouldn’t read it, but… It turned out she was writing letters to me, so I guess it’s not that bad. Right?” Rowan got the impression that it was an excuse more for himself than her. He sighed. “She stopped writing months ago, but I’ve noticed recently that new entries are appearing.”

He passed to her the open notebook, and she took it uncertainly. On its pages, she saw familiar handwriting, the same she knew so well from the notes exchanged during classes.

My dearest Rowan…

She glanced over the first sentences and put her hand over her mouth to stop a sob. She closed her eyes to calm down. When she looked again, Jacob was watching her with sympathy.

“It’s your choice if you read it,” he said gently. “I didn’t look at your parts, but I imagine it’ll be a rather bittersweet experience, so consider yourself warned.”

“You said it’s a two-way notebook,” she tried to control shaking of her voice. “Does it mean I could use it to contact Helena?”

“Probably. But you know you can’t. I’m sorry, Rowan.”

She shook her head and smiled weakly. “No, don’t be. Thank you for showing me that.”

It seemed like Jacob wasn’t sure if he made the right decision. “Hey, would you help me with something, too?” he asked more cheerfully. “You know Ancient Runes, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You think you could translate something for me?”

“I can try,” Rowan replied, pressing the notebook to her chest.

“Brilliant. I’ll bring you the texts then. Take your time with them.”

She wanted to get to work right away once she got materials, but the purple notebook was still in the corner of her eye. Eventually, she gave in and started reading about what was happening at Hogwarts. She laughed and cried, learning about how her friends were dealing with everything. She was proud of them for being strong, and she wanted more than anything to hug them in the weaker moments. She felt as if Helena was sitting next to her, telling her all of that in-person – except she was so far…

Rowan couldn’t bring herself back to translating that day. Though after the sleepless night, she was glad to have something to focus on. She wondered if Jacob gave her that task right now purposefully.

“How it’s going?” he asked when he came to check her progress.

“Pretty well, actually. I had some difficulties at one point, but it went easier when I overcame it. I think I’m about half-way through.”

“Already?” Jacob flipped through some pages of her work. “I’m impressed. Good job, Rowan.” He smiled at her, but then he frowned unexpectedly. “Can I see your glasses?”

She blinked, surprised. “Um, sure.”

He carefully took them from her and examined them against the light. “They’re not mended properly. That’s why you squint,” he declared. “Did you do it yourself?”

Rowan felt that she’s blushing. “Yeah, I did…”

“It’s not your fault, glasses are tricky. They’re not as complex as tissue, but still,” he reassured her. He took his wand out to cast the spell. “Here, it should be better now.”

Rowan put her glasses back, indeed noticing a difference in her vision. “Thanks.”

“Why you didn’t say anything earlier?”

She shrugged, ignoring the warmth of her cheeks. Truth be told, she didn’t know why. She didn’t want to bother anyone, and she assumed any discomfort she’s experiencing might be related to her other injuries.

“I think I’m gonna cook something,” stated Jacob casually, changing the subject. “Are you hungry?”

He left the room and apparently encountered Madam Rakepick, who happened to be at the house.

“You could’ve at least checked her glasses,” Rowan heard him saying. He didn’t talk loudly, and the girl didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help it.

“What’s wrong with her glasses?” Rakepick replied with a question.

“They had a flaw from mending. You should take care of things like that.”

“How was I supposed to know? She didn’t complain to me.”

“Maybe because she’s afraid of you.”

“Why would she be afraid of me?”

Jacob made a weird sound which could’ve been a cough or an attempt at hiding a snigger. Rowan didn’t catch the Curse-Breaker’s response, but she made a note to herself to never reveal how sensitive her hearing is. Still, that short exchange made her think again. Because a lot of things in her life recently were confusing, yet the relationship between those two had to be at the top of the list.

Madam Rakepick continued to come back every now and then for short periods. She was spending her time mostly with Jacob alone, but sporadically, Rowan had an opportunity to be around them, too. To her surprise, they usually were getting along really well. Whether it was the case of them used to working together or just knowing more than they were telling, they quickly understood each other, and it seemed they’re making a good team. Rowan even caught them joking around a couple of times. Everything was fine - until they started fighting. Even though they never did it in front of her, she always knew about it because of yelling, which was the most unsettling part, although she rarely could distinguish the exact words.

As far as Rowan remembered, she had never heard Madam Rakepick shouting. Even when she raised her voice occasionally, she was still steady and cold. It definitely fitted her ominous aura. Supposedly, her behaviour was different in the Buried Vault, but Rowan didn’t witness that, and she never wanted to even imagine the whole situation. As for Jacob, though… Well, if Rowan didn’t know that he’s the only other person inside, she’d doubt he could yell at all. His appearance could intimidate at first, sure, but the longer she knew him, the more certain she was that he’s one of the gentlest people she had met. She kept in mind that his approach towards her might be related to Helena. However, she could also easily see him using that natural appeal to endear both teachers and classmates during his school period. Ironically, that’s probably the most effective type of troublemaker. Overall, getting into such heated quarrels seemed unusual for both of them, so the girl never knew if their subjects were this serious or it’s the matter of two characters clashing.

After one of those argues, Jacob stormed into the kitchen where Rowan was sitting at the table. He lent over the counter, hanging his head down in frustration until the door slam.

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered. Rowan looked at him questioningly. “Me and Rakepick, that is,” he clarified, straightening up. “I imagine it’s not very comforting when the only two people you’re supposed to depend on are at each other’s throats.”

She didn’t know what to answer, so she kept quiet. Jacob in the meantime took out his pack of cigarettes and lit up. He took a puff and chuckled softly.

“Patricia can be difficult to work with,” he continued talking. “She’d probably say the same about me. But it’s nothing that should concern you. In fact, things go pretty well.” He seemed genuine, as always.

They sat in silence for a while before Rowan tried to take up the conversation. “It had to be hard for you to trust her…”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, after she left you in the Vault and all.” She felt nervous talking about it, but it was bothering her for so long. “Or did you know that she had no choice or something?”

He didn’t reply right away and bit his lips. “Yeah, something like that…”

He suddenly appeared more absent but not upset with her, so she decided to push further. “Jacob? Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Last year, when there was the Portrait Curse at Hogwarts, our friend’s sister got trapped. She was getting weaker with each day, losing the sense of reality. How it’s possible…” She forced herself to raise her head and look at him, hoping to see his reaction. “How did you even survive for so long?”

There was no reaction, he only stared at the floor. That’s what Rowan was afraid of. She kept noticing little things that weren’t adding up. Like from time to time, Jacob would mention not seeing his sister in years. She also couldn’t believe that Jacob would reproach anyone for anything, even if it was about hesitating before setting him free – and that’s what he was doing according to Helena’s stories.

“You weren’t trapped at all, were you?” she asked quietly.

Their eyes finally met. “No, I wasn’t.”

Rowan instinctively reached to her wand, which she always carried with her, just like Madam Rakepick told her to. Yet Jacob remained calm, resting against the counter and smoking casually.

“But you are Helena’s brother? And she has only one brother?”

“Yeah.”

Her heart started beating faster. “Then who did she save from the portrait?”

“Let’s not talk about it.” He took a deep breath. “Look, Rowan, I’m sorry, I really am. I just can’t tell you everything, at least not now. Helena is safe, and I’ll do anything to keep it that way as long as I’m alive.” He put out the cigarette and sat in front of her. “I want to protect you, too, but it means keeping information from you. I know it’s hard, and frustrating, and scary. But it has to be that way. Do you understand?”

Rowan truly wanted to believe him. But at the same time, it hit her how little she knew about what she had gotten into. What if she was on the wrong side? What if she got manipulated? But it couldn’t be… She spent the whole night thinking about different possibilities. She ended up browsing the purple notebook once again. Could it be fake, forged to influence her emotionally? No… The new entries were still appearing and some of them were too detailed to not be written by Helena. No, neither Jacob nor Madam Rakepick was lying to her. But even when holding to that faith, it was terrifying to realise that there is a lot of unknown danger out there. Rowan believed that her decision would keep her friends safe. However, how much truth was in that? And if she somehow could warn them to be careful, how would she warn about something she didn’t understand? She closed the notebook, resisting the urge to write something in it.

The next morning when she went down to the kitchen, she found there both Jacob and Madam Rakepick drinking coffee. It actually was the first time she saw them in a situation like that, and it was almost bizarre. If she had any company in the morning, it was Jacob alone. For a moment, she was taken aback, not sure if she can interrupt them. Nevertheless, she wanted to talk to them anyway, so she got the courage up to speak up.

“I want to help,” she announced. “I don’t have to know everything, but I can still do something. I did translations for Jacob, I can do more. I can do analysis, I can organise things--”

“I hope you paid attention to the books I recommended you, Miss Khanna,” Rakepick cut in.

Rowan hesitated, confused by the sudden remark. “Yes, of course.”

“Good. It’ll be helpful in your research.”

“I’ll be doing research?”

“Yes, you just said that you want to help.”

The girl immediately got excited and lightened up. “On the Cursed Vaults? Or on R? Or–”

“How about you start with breakfast?” the redhead interrupted her again, raising her eyebrow. She took a sip of her beverage, temporarily closing the case. Jacob only grinned at them while placing an additional plate.

Rowan took her seat at the table, even though she wasn’t hungry at all. If everyone fights, she’s going to fight, too, in the best way she can. And should the worst happen – whatever it would be – she’s going to be prepared.

[rem289]

Q: Why are you writing this post?

A: Because during the Christmas holidays I started to receive attention from the Zootopia fandom which led me to re-discover some concepts that I thought I had made clear, and since this didn’t turn out to be true, I am forced to reiterate them.

Q: What happened?

A: I discovered that someone had reposted, obviously without my consent, an old comic of Aoimotion and mine on reddit, a site I don't like and on which I had already said not to publish my actually and old contents. This repost "reminded" this fandom of my existence, and after this event some people came to ask us questions such as "when Nick and Judy would reappear in our work?" and the like.

You can imagine how much it bothered me, so I went to reddit and wrote to immediately delete the content. Unfortunately, doing this I couldn’t help but notice how the post had become a place to waste insinuations and insults aimed at me and Aoimotion. In particular, the comments of three users stood out: @ggctuk , @owningsuperset7​ and @hammytotherescue

Q: Why did these users get your attention?

A: ggctuk, which I have no idea who they are, have proclaimed themselves as the narrative voice of the events that have taken place between us and the fandom, providing a lot of incomplete and, in the worst case, completely wrong information, about why we left the fandom and about the alleged "abusive behaviors" we had against translators.

Owningsuperset7 spoke about us (like he does every time the occasion presents itself to him), defining us ungrateful towards the fandom "that had fed us". But "fed" in what sense? It seems to me that we have been those who have definitely "eaten" very little… or likes can be monetized, just like the views on youtube, and I didn't know it? Did they break the keyboard in order to put those likes on our works? If it’s so, I'm sorry, but I certainly wasn't the one who pointed the gun at their head to follow my work. Always remember that paying attention to a work is always and only a reader’s choice. No creator has power over these phenomena, we just create and publish, the rest is always an unknown factor. So expressing yourself as a seduced and abandoned lover on an old and free work doesn’t make you a victim, it only makes you ridiculous. Anyway, I know the subject, who had already decided in the past to talk on DeviantArt before I blocked him, and I decided not to tell him anything in that moment, also because, what can you say to a person who clearly has problems that go beyond fandom? Sometimes ignoring is the kindest choice you can make.

Hammytotherescue instead claimed that he and I were friends in the past, before the duo formed by me and aoimotion became toxic. Since I had no memory of this person and I hate when someone alludes to relationships with me that don't exist, I wrote to him privately on Tumblr asking him if he could kindly refresh my memory about this "friendship" he was bragging about.

Q: How did it end?

A: The conversation, which I report below because I, unlike him, have nothing to be ashamed of, is as follows:

As you can see, Hammy never replied to my last message . But in reality the story was not over. A few days ago, in fact, I discover that the user in question "vented" in the post of reddit, not under my comment (so that I received notification of his reply) but in response to another comment that had been left to me. Showing, as always, the incredible maturity of these people.

After reading this comment, I decided to act by reporting the user on reddit, but the answer I received can be summarized as: "since you are a content creator, you deserve insults regardless." In short, a response as useful and smart as the people who gave it to me. So don’t worry Hammy, you won't be banned from reddit because the only braincell shared by you users agrees that defining a toxic and manipulative person is, to quote one of the wise moderators I talked to, "a fairly typical level of criticism". All is well that ends well.

Q: You mentioned "concepts to reiterate". What would they be?

A: Let's start by denying what ggctuk wrote in that reddit's post, given how much popularity his comments have gained.

My split from this fandom started because I simply lost interest in Nick and Judy and preferred to do something else, something of my own. Black Jack gave us the opportunity to invent many original characters and they was those I wanted to work on. We have never worked for ulterior motives other than having fun together. When we recognized that we no longer have anything to give to this universe, we declared it openly and closed this chapter of our "artistic life". This split could take place in a peaceful and calm way, I would have taken my own path and you yours, since it was obvious, since BJ times, that you had very little interest in our original contents. You also reiterated this between the lines of these last comments, so really, I make a terrible effort to understand your logic of contents belonging to your fandom. It's not your fault, don't worry. You have been spoiled by this entrenched habit of creating any anthropomorphic animal and attributing it to your precious and super-nutritive fandom. Once you labeled this attitude at heresy, now everything is fine as long as it helps you keeping this universe going, honestly, I just pity you. However it seems that your obsession with me prevents you from accepting the fact that my life would have continued even without this fandom and that I would have lived very well even without the amount of likes that fanarts could give me. Indeed my life would be even more beautiful if I didn't have to waste time like I am doing now.

Both me and aoimotion together gave you a lot, and in the end we simply got it back. Jack is a prime example: yes, he is a character born from the scratches of Zootopia's artwork, but thanks to our work he has evolved to the point of becoming a completely original character. This fandom has not been able to accept it and until the end has tried to claim him as its own, and even now it can’t accept that we have instead taken him back, and even less can you bear that we are successfully using him in our original works, which is why you insist so much on his "Disney" origin, as if this defines his identity, and for months you have made fun of us saying that we were claiming something that belongs to Disney as our own. Unfortunately, beyond a doodle and a hint of a hypothetical background, Disney has absolutely nothing. Whatever weight you have attributed to "Jack Savage" is only thanks to our work, Disney has nothing to do with your mania and it has nothing to do with everything we've built up over the years. Still, you took our job and stuck it over the "Disney" label, and that was even when Black Jack was long gone, so don’t use that excuse anymore. You even tried to attribute Cynthia to the Disney universe by calling her "Skye", since you are so desperate to keep your fantasies going, and when you had nothing more to say, you said that my art style was "clearly inspired by Disney". Did you think I could condone such an attitude? I suppose these statements derive above all from the certainly very poor culture that you have of the world outside the fandom (or fandoms), however there are artists who WORKED for Disney, who TEACHED drawing techniques at the Disney Academy and who work at own productions with that style, without anyone attributing anything to the major. If you don't believe me, try using the web for something constructive, like doing some in-depth research on the subject.

As for the matter of our alleged abuses on translators, I will only say two things: the translations started because of my naivety, and we prohibited them because the translators abused their role and went out of control, acting as if the comics belonged to them and / or as if there was a special relationship of complicity between me and them. I'm sorry I gave false hopes to these people, unfortunately I didn't have time to realize the misunderstandings that were being created and how our work was being used. There is a clear difference between the fan content and the original content, so now more than even, less our work passes into the hands of others, the better it is for us.

Now let’s analyzing the brilliant messages of Hammy, both on Tumblr and on reddit:

In both cases, what I see is a desperate need to cling to Rem's "pretty" facade while simultaneously demolishing the person behind Aoimotion. These insinuations suggest that the only possible Rem to conceive for your narrow minds is the kind and lovely one, and everything I say and do that does not fall within this definition is the work of aoimotion.

I will never go into detail about the dynamics between me and her, because frankly it’s not your business and I don’t want to give you further ground to cultivate your absurd speculations and your degenerated ideas. If you have decided to treat us as two two-dimensional characters of some fourth category fan fiction born from your fragile minds and then feel disappointed or offended by my attitude or a severe response I can give you, you cannot help but blame yourself and not who is my friend .

But you have to get it into your heads that when you talk about us in a personal way, you refer only on the basis of two web profiles. You don't know us personally and above all you don't know me. Being an extremely reserved person, I always decided to use social networks to share my artistic side or my interests related to entertainment, nothing more, nothing less. "Rem289" has always been only a blog, a showcase on the web, I’ve never attributed a real emotional and above all personal value to it, even before Zootopia. For the rest I prefer to live my personal life off the web. Unfortunately, you have been so careless as to decide to hit my personal sphere, my friendships and my affections. So no, Aoi didn’t take over between you and me, but the person behind Rem289 took over and you paid the consequences.

Still on the subject of aoimotion, it seems that the moment this comment was written on DA has remained particularly impressed: https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/765376682/4647911119

This great insult, which among other things is attributed to her as if I didn’t think the same (if not worse) about you, has become the new reason why aoimotion is ugly and bad and is the reason why she deserves to be insulted and disparaged at the slightest opportunity, even during a conversation with me in which she’s not involved in any way.

Now, since this term seems to me rather dated to be used as a matter of indignation during your debates, and since I still find it rather ”soft” to use to outline my intolerance towards you, in order to give you another thing to think over, I will give you an attribute which seems more correct to me: you are sick. Confronting you is like talking to someone who has been brainwashed. You are a broken record that always says the same things over and over again. I can't even feel sorry for you, what I feel is just a great sense of unease. (Of course there are people that still participate in this fandom and are perfectly normal, but those are exceptions and they already know we think good of them.)

And it’s precisely your illness that prompted me to dissociate myself so violently from the fandom. Not aoimotion, as you have been saying for months between an insult and another that you address to her because perhaps you are too afraid of me to address them directly to me, which is rather contradictory since I should be the sweet and pretty one of the duo. After all, it's better to treat me like a poor brainless fool who lets herself be manipulated rather than admit that I also have my own ideas and that, you don’t say, you don't like them.

Q: In any case, you have no right to deprive your fans of old content they love so much, you just want to be spiteful! Why did all your old WildeHopps comics disappear from the web?

A: The decision to delete the contents created by me relating to the fandom from my web platforms or those shared with my partner was not born in the least out of spite or "punishment" towards the members of the fandom. It was a decision made to dissociate my name and my current work from fandom, because unfortunately it created difficulties for my image and real difficulties for readers to understand (you can go on and say that if people think your work is still Zootopia-related is not a big deal, but I assure you it is). All that came after, are only and exclusively speculations built on purpose to find the most sinister reasons of why it happened. Publishing content is only an accessory part of the job itself, a percentage of the process. Deciding to publish, not publish or cancel a publication is at the pure expense of the author, and no consumer has the right to impose his will on the creator. I understand that they are perhaps too complex concepts for you, since it’s clear that you are used to measuring the value of things based on the likes they receive, but this current of thought also exists and I hope it will be useful to you someday, in the remote possibility that decide to take moments of deep reflection (which would be more and more useful than tapping your fingers on the keyboard).

(Little curiosity: in the last few weeks we have forwarded about twenty reports to various sites to remove our old contents posted there without our permission. Not only all twenty reports have been accepted, but the contents have all been removed in less than 12 hours from the date of reporting. This is to remind you that if we don’t want our content on the web, we have them removed and it’s the reposters who pay for it, not us.)

Q: Well, however you can't force us not to talk badly about you or aoimotion, in fact, you can't stop us from believing that she's been manipulating you for years. Almost certainly it’s she who is writing this post without your knowledge, isn't it?

A: The people of the web are notoriously lazy and are therefore often uninformed and constipated in developing their own concepts. They spit sentences without even knowing what they’re talking about, they choose "comfortable" truths, such as the fact of attributing to aoimotion every not nice word that comes from me, and when this phenomenon is reflected on real persons, unfortunately it’s quite difficult to manage.

We are attributed with labels, words, concepts, faults, relationships that don’t belong to us and that are difficult to get away from. A simple comment or a wrong statement towards a person can spread like wildfire and end up marking them for life. Needless to say, these conditions often prevent these same people from continuing with their activities, which instead are healthy, in a serene and peaceful way. Even now, instead of drawing, I’m writing this latest post to defend me and my partner from your sick slanders. Those who allow themselves the luxury of damaging the "active personalities" of the web are people who fully enjoy anonymity behind a screen, and often people who have the matter of regulating them (like the reddits moderators, who are a joke at best) limit themselves to considering certain behaviors "ordinary” in the creator / consumer relationship. The mere fact of normalizing certain behaviors doesn’t smooth out the rules of civilized life, makes these "authorities" complicit and therefore only adds a problem. It’s more than evident that some people are not yet able to distinguish the boundary that exists between objective opinion and direct and personal insult, but from people who lose sleep at night because they have been defined as “lunatic” I don’t expect anything less. Who knows what you will do now that I have called you sick.

I conclude with a message to the interested party:

@hammytotherescue​: I don't know how old you are, however, judging by what you write and how you write it and how you act, I deduce that you should not be more than 14-15 years old. Unfortunately I regret to tell you that the fact you are a minor doesn’t mean that you don’t have to take responsibility for your actions, and if you still have doubts about understanding where you have gone wrong I advise you to ask your parents for advice. I gave you the opportunity to confront me but you ran away to cry on a public platform. Hasn't anyone taught you that real life doesn't work like that? If, on the other hand, you are an adult, I sincerely feel sorry for you, I say this from the bottom of my heart.

I know how comfortable it is to hide behind a group or in this case a fandom to vent one's dislikes towards the individual. This time you and your friends have received the same treatment, you have not caught generic appellations addressed to the fandom but I decided to speak to you personally. My only advice is to use this experience to learn how it behaves on the web, and when you have learned it, you could teach it to all your friends, perhaps starting with @owningsuperset7​.

For @ggctuk: I hope you will appreciate my effort in writing this long post, as so the next time you talk about us again, you can use it as a reference to explain how things went 🤗

[matrixaffiliate]

Endeavor

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

These are the last two chapters, my friends. I hope you've loved this journey as much as I have.

Chapter 19

Vic couldn't help the giddy feeling she had as she shut down her work computer. It had been a whirlwind of six months but she and Ted had taken his comment about being done waiting to heart. He probably would have eloped with her if she'd been serious when she'd made the comment after his proposing. But Vic admitted that she did want a wedding, and Ted had been fully supportive, he simply asked for a short engagement. She didn't miss the irony. She'd gone from an engagement with a man who wanted to wait years for a wedding to a man who wanted to elope with her the same hour he proposed.

But Vic worried that everything was moving in fast forward as they closed in on their wedding date. She was glad they took pictures at her dress fitting because just five months later she was already straining to remember how it had gone, the flutter in her chest when she'd found the dress, the way her mum's eyes had filled with tears, and Dominique's commentary on every dress and whether or not Ted would faint dead away when he saw her. Vic couldn't remember the other flavors of cake they had tried. She couldn't remember the other venues they had looked at. There were dozens of little things that Vic couldn't remember, and she couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't because they were doing everything so quickly.

"What am I going to do without you for two weeks?" Emmeline stepped up to Vic's cubicle.

Vic laughed and grabbed her bag. "I'm sure you'll be fine. The real question is how I'll ever catch up when I get back."

Emmeline smirked, "I'm sure you'll be fine." She echoed.

Vic laughed, "We'll both be fine, but I've got a lot to get done for Saturday so I'll be off."

"Have fun!" Emmeline gave her arm a squeeze as she stepped towards the exit.

"Thanks! I'll see you in two weeks!"

Vic left and while a part of her was still fretting about how fast everything was going, she had to admit that she was excited to finally be at this point. She was getting married! She gave in to the giddiness that was bubbling inside of her as she drove home, turning her car radio up horrendously loud and laughing and dancing as she drove home to Teddy.

That had happened quickly after his proposal too. Ted had almost pleaded with her to come home to his flat that Monday and she honestly hadn't resisted all that much. She had insisted that they tell her family that evening, if for no other reason than to get her a change of work clothes for the next day. Ted had taken that thought and ran with it, trying to pack up her entire wardrobe when he'd followed her up to her bedroom. It had taken some quick talking but Vic had managed to convince Ted to wait to move her in till that weekend. He'd still woke her up at five in the morning to get started that Saturday. While she hadn't loved the early morning wake up call, it was nice to have him so excited to have her with him. She rather enjoyed the feeling of being wanted.

The juxtaposition was almost laughable. The wedding planning she had done with Sean had seemed to move like molasses, but with Ted it was lightspeed. Vic was grateful that she'd finished the rewrite of her novel and her first round of query letters before Ted had proposed. She didn't feel like she was slacking off on her book knowing that she was waiting for responses, and it gave her all the time she needed to plan her wedding in a hurry. After their honeymoon, Vic planned on sending out the next round of queries. She felt hopeful that it would go somewhere. She had two different agents ask for the full manuscript, one turned her down, the other had gone radio silent. But Vic was trying to look at it as a good thing. At least she knew her book wasn't awful.

She turned her key in the door and as she walked into their flat Ted caught her round the middle and kissed her, pressing her into the door as it closed behind her.

"I can't believe you worked a full day today." Ted murmured against her lips. "I've been going insane waiting for you."

Vic laughed and dropped her bag to the floor to link her arms behind his neck. "You do realize that I don't work for my uncle anymore, right?"

"Of course, I do," Ted chuckled and kissed her, "but Emmeline told you that she'd give you today as well, and you told her no."

"Yeah, because I'm a good employee." She grinned against him.

"You're far more than good, love."

"And we have a lot to get done tonight, so we should maybe start thinking of getting on with it."

"Can't resist me, eh?"

Vic laughed and gave the hair at the nape of his neck a gentle tug.

"You're ridiculous!"

"And you're going to marry me tomorrow." Ted nuzzled her face with his.

"Only if we get these last things done."

"So torturous."

Vic eased out of his embrace, "We'll have two weeks of this, love, don't worry."

Ted took her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips, "Alright, to work with us."

It didn't take that long to get the last few things on her list done, the most important of which being packing for their honeymoon. One of the benefits of doing a fast wedding was that Vic was able to convince her mum to keep things small as well. She'd introduced her parents to Le Chocolat Expatrié and the Rousseau's had been more than willing to cater a small reception. Madame Rousseau had even decided to create a chocolate, special for the occasion. Their wedding wouldn't be as grand or as big as Kalil and Maira's had been, but it would have their family and their friends and that was all Vic really wanted.

They were finishing up the last of her list when her phone started ringing and distracted by what Ted was saying, she answered without bothering to see who was calling.

"Hello, this is Victoire."

"Hi Victoire, this is Jessie Campoli, I requested your full manuscript a month or so ago."

Vic felt the air rush out of her and she shot her hand out to grip the kitchen table in front of her.

"Er, yes, hello."

Ted's whole demeanor changed and he put a concerned hand on her arm as she gripped the table. Vic bit her lip and tried to smile through her nerves.

"I was calling to offer to be your agent, and that I have a publisher interested in having the full manuscript as soon as possible. They would love to have it ready for summer if we can manage it."

"Oh my gosh! Yes! I mean, thank you!"

Jessie laughed. "Could you meet with me on Monday and we can get everything signed and sorted?"

Vic felt her smile falter. "I, er, I'm actually getting married tomorrow and leaving for my honeymoon on Sunday morning."

"Oh, well congratulations! I, hmm, I do have time this evening. Would you have time to get it sorted tonight and then I could send your manuscript to the publisher first thing Monday morning?"

Vic looked up at Ted, who was looking at her with confusion written all over his face.

"Yes, I could meet you tonight and get signed on with you as my literary agent."

Ted's mouth dropped to the floor before jumping from the table and grabbing his car keys.

"Excellent," Jessie sounded relieved and they coordinated where to meet before disconnecting the call.

"I told you!" Ted picked her up and spun her around as she tried to retrieve her purse. "I told you that your book was going to be huge!"

Vic laughed. "It's not signed yet, I just have an agent, not a book deal."

"An agent who wants to sign you before your wedding and honeymoon." He set her down so that she could grab her purse and slip into her shoes.

"Well, yes, but it's only so that she can send my book to the publisher first thing Monday morning; I guess we'll see what comes from it all when we get home from Italy then, won't we?"

"Bellissima," Ted pulled her back into him.

"That's the only word in Italian you know isn't it?" Vic laughed as they moved to the door.

"Of course not, I know spaghetti and pizza, and tiramisu, and cannoli, and…"

Vic cut him off with a quick kiss. "It's a good thing we have translator apps on our phones so that we can get directions to all the restaurants that will feed you spaghetti and pizza and all that."

"If we ever make it out of the hotel." Ted pushed her against the door frame and leant in.

"We'll never make it there if we don't get out the door."

Ted smirked at her before leaning in the rest of the way and kissing her slowly.

"I'll restrain myself for now then."

Vic grinned at him as he pulled away, his turquoise hair freshly dyed for tomorrow.

"Just till later tonight, yeah?"

"I'm sure I could be persuaded to indulge you in some form of celebration, because of your new agent, of course."

"Sure, the fact that I'm marrying you tomorrow has nothing to do with it."

"Nothing whatsoever," Ted laughed and opened her car's passenger door.

Getting signed on with Jessie took longer than Vic expected it to, mostly because of all the questions Vic realized she had, and then Ted's questions, and Jessie's questions for her. By the time they left the little coffee shop they'd met Jessie at, Vic was exhausted, and it was much later than she'd intended them to be up, let alone out on the town.

"How important are these last things on your list?" Ted yawned and looked at the list she'd shared with him from her phone as they walked back into their flat.

Vic looked over his arm to see the list and chuckled.

"They're not important, love."

"You sure?"

Vic kicked off her shoes and pulled her top over her head before winking at him.

"Positive."

Ted smirked at her, his hand holding up his phone dropping to his side. "So torturous."

"Come on, fiancé, let's enjoy our last night as a young engaged couple before we cross the line into an old married couple."

"Who said anything about being old? I didn't sign on for old."

Vic laughed as he followed her into the bedroom. "Don't worry love, I've noticed that the Marauder men don't seem to age much in certain aspects."

Ted grabbed her around her waist, and Vic felt her breath catch.

"What exactly are you suggesting?" He brought his hands just high enough to tease her before sliding back down to the waistline of her jeans.

Vic linked her arms behind his neck and pulled herself closer, "Only that I'm prepared to be the adult when the occasion calls for it."

"Like now?" Ted brought his lips to the hollow of her neck.

"Yeah, I'll be a consenting adult right now." She tried to laugh but sighed instead as Ted bit down on her neck.

Ted did manage a deep chuckle as he hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He moved them to their bed before laying her down.

"Good, because I believe you mentioned wanting some form of celebration tonight."

Then he kissed her.

When they were finally drifting off for the night, Ted curled around her, Vic let the giddy feeling carry off to sleep, knowing that tomorrow she would come back to this bed as Mrs. Edward Lupin.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Ma chérie," Fleur looked like she may cry as Vic stood in front of the mirror. "You are so beautiful."

"I can't believe this is happening." Vic tried to laugh but it came out more of a watery chuckle. "I can't cry." She repeated and smiled at her photographer.

"Don't worry about crying," she patted her camera, "I can fix coloring and that sort of thing when I enhance the lighting."

Vic blinked against the unwanted moisture in her eyes.

"I repeat, I can't cry."

Fleur wrapped her in a hug. "Then we must hurry to get all of the pictures done before the ceremony. If you are busy, you will be too distracted to cry."

"Who's crying?" Dominique poked her head in. "Holy gorgeous! Vic! You're stunning!"

"Thanks, Dom," Vic took a deep breath, "Let's go see if Ted agrees with you."

"If he doesn't, I'll make Dad hold him down and I'll poke out his eyes."

"Dominique!" Fleur whirled on her.

"It's just an expression, Maman, you know how crude of a language English is," Dominique smirked and skipped out the door ahead of them.

Dominique didn't need to worry though, at least Vic didn't think so. As she walked into the hall where they would be taking pictures, Ted looked up and dropped the plastic cup of water he'd been holding. Vic laughed as Remus quickly reached out and caught the cup before it emptied all its contents on the floor, and Ted's suit.

"You're marrying her," Remus gave his son's shoulder a gentle push, "The least you can do is meet her halfway."

Ted stumbled the first few steps before getting his feet in coordination with his brain.

"Vic…" her name was all he managed to say, but his hands didn't seem to need his voice's help to pull her into him.

Vic suddenly felt momentarily shy and couldn't hold his gaze. "It's alright?"

Ted chuckled, "I would have married you in my old blue t-shirt and your lounge shorts, love."

He moved in to kiss her and Vic pulled away before he could ruin her makeup.

Ted raised an eyebrow at her. "This better not become a pattern. I'm more or less set on kissing you like my life depends on it."

"Can we wait to ruin my makeup until after we've taken the pictures though?"

"So torturous," Ted kissed her carefully this time, but slow enough that Vic was breathless when he pulled back.

"Let's get all these public memories over with," Ted smirked down at her. "I'm anxious to get on to the more private ones."

That was the last slow moment of the day. Pictures were a blur. Even walking down the aisle when she thought back on it seemed to move in fast forward. Reading her vows and listening to Ted's were moments she'd always cherish, but they seemed to be over before she could really enjoy them. Jamie and Al coordinating with Luis for a recreation of a dance from a television show wedding seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. Her father-daughter dance seemed to start and end the moment her dad took her hand. Everything was over before she was ready for it.

"Wait!" She gripped Ted's arm as he went to lead her out to the hall for their grand exit.

"What? What's wrong?" Ted looked around them.

"I just, I need, it's all going so fast, I want to remember something!" She knew she was being ridiculous, but her wedding only would happen once, and she already felt like she was forgetting everything from the day.

Ted pulled her into his arms, his right hand coming up to caress her cheek.

"I can wait a moment, I mean, I waited almost a year to be your boyfriend, didn't I?"

"I'm sorry, I know it's silly, but it's our wedding Ted! What if I forget everything before we even get home from Italy?"

"Hey," his hand slid from her cheek to her neck and her shoulder, "It's our wedding, you're not going to forget it all, but even if you did, as long as we keep choosing each other every day, that's what matters, right?"

"I know, and you're right, I just," she smiled up at him, "I'm only getting married once. I want to remember as much of it as I can."

Ted pulled her in and kissed her, his hands wrapping around her waist to press into her back, his lips caressing hers before sliding his tongue gently into her mouth, one hand sliding up her back to press against the back of her neck.

"Remember this," He murmured against her before pressing his lips back into hers.

And for the rest of her life, she did remember that one moment, that one kiss, with the man who had loved her since he first laid eyes on her.

[timetoresurface]

EXCHANGE (3) / JJK

to give something and receive something of the same kind in return

Note: I’ve updated! Yes! First of all thank you for your support and please keep showing your love through likes, reblogs, comments and just by simply reading and enjoying. If there is a spelling mistake or really just something completely off, don’t hesitate to contact me. 

Pairing: reader x Jungkook

Genre: romance, non idol AU

Warnings: none

Word count: 3711 words

PART 1 / PART 2 / / PART 4 / PART 5 / PART 6 / PART 7

Summary: Yes, you are an exchange student. You noticed EF also organized trips to Seoul and you wanted something different than the same five people in your hometown. You came to the beautiful city to learn and relax, most definitely not to fall in live with one of the teachers. Definitely not the young extracurricular teacher who seemed to be good at everything.

*Y/N = your name *Y/C = your city/country

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You curled your fingers into the palm of your hand, not even feeling them dig in. If you hadn’t fancied this guy you’d be funny and flirtatious, since you kind of did like him your brain was malfunctioning as much as if you were drunk and hangover all at once. The both of you were walking next to each other in one of the more busier streets in Gangnam. It was hard to keep up with him as people kept bumping into you. You had almost lost him twice in the past five minutes and he was getting a bit annoyed. He looked at you like: you wanted to go to Seoul so you better learn to navigate yourself through it. His hand caught yours and he guided you through the crowd. Your skin tingled where he held your hand but you tried to ignore the feeling it gave you. 

After a few minutes he took a left turn and suddenly you were in a more quiet street, an alley to be more exact. A cute restaurant was hidden behind plants and fairy lights. You were mesmerized by the beautiful simplicity of the place so you didn’t notice Jungkook letting go of your hand. You didn’t notice him taking out his phone to snap a quick picture of you being fascinated. 

“It is one of my favorite places. I accidentally discovered this restaurant when I was feeling really down and the people and the atmosphere inside really helped me get trough it.” He explained and you noticed the fondness in his eyes. You weren’t sure though if it was for the restaurant or if it was a fondness for you. He took your hand in his again and waited for you to follow him.

“Thank you.” Was the only thing you said before entering the place almost sacred to Jungkook. It was the second time he had shared something personal with you and it made you wonder what was going on in that pretty little head of his. It also made you wonder with how many people had he shared these stories? How many people had he taken to this place? Where you a first or one out of many? You tried to push these thoughts away and smiled. You were glad that your hangover self still decided to wear a dress today instead of your pajama as you first invented to do.

“Table for two.” He said and the both of you were brought to the only remaining table at the back of the restaurant. You looked around at the busy tables. An old couple eating side by side, one glass of wine each. A group of young women in their thirties  or so collapsing with helpless giggles as a stern woman dining alone nearby looked on and frowned. American tourists, trying to decipher the menu. The noise level was high but it didn’t bother you.

A girl brought us some menu’s and spoke fast in Korean. Jungkook smiled and said something that got a laugh out of her. You were learning Korean so you understood simple things as ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ but you felt a bit left out. It almost seemed like he sensed your uncomfortableness as he shot you one of his characteristic smiles that left everyone gasping for breath. Our knees almost touched under the narrow table and you couldn’t help the heath that was entering your body.

“I don’t really know what to order if I’m being honest.” You confessed while staring at the menu. They had some translations into English and some things you understood but you weren’t really familiar with the Korean kitchen.

“I’ll order something for us. Don’t worry.” And with these words you were comforted. His deep brown eyes the color of melted chocolate that stared deep into your soul made your heart race but also calmed your never stopping thoughts.

He called for the waitress at your table and started ordering in Korean. She wrote down everything he said and immediately vanished into the kitchen to give our orders. Silence fell over the both of you and you didn’t know what to say or do. This was a weird situation. Him being kind of your teacher and you only being here for a little of a month. Why were you having dinner with a pretty Korean boy when your return flight was already scheduled?

“How is the hangover?” You had felt embarrassed throughout the day so his question didn’t make you blush as it would have five hours ago. His stare didn’t make your ears go red anymore.

“I’m really good actually. Your greasy breakfast saved me today.” There's that static again, that crackling in the air whenever the two of you got within a foot of each other. It wasn’t the first time you noticed but due to your lack of sleep last night, you felt it more intensely.

“My hangover soup would have been better. Maybe next time when you’re wandering the building and I have to take your crying ass in.” His facial features were babyish, big eyes, soft skin and a cute nose. There was nothing rugged about his looks at all, even his jaw was shaved absolutely smooth. You’d always gone for the lumberjack type before, but he just got you with how kind he looked, how safe.

“I promise you that this won’t happen again. I will stop drinking while I’m here.” Your words were barely said when the waitress arrived with a bottle of soju and two glasses. Jungkook started laughing uncontrollably.

“You should’ve seen your face. You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to but I thought you would appreciate a complete traditional Korean meal with the obligatory Korean drinks.” He said while still having the biggest smile on his face. He opened the bottle of Soju and looked over at you as if to ask if he could fill your glass. You nodded.

“I can’t say no to tradition.” Each drink offered seemed like a better and better idea. The jokes got funnier, you became a comedian of epic proportions and you flirted without embarrassing yourself further. 

After the food arrived he immediately started to grill the meat and explained what everything was and how you are supposed to eat it. Every time when something was done he instantly put in on your plate or asked you to open your mouth. From afar it must have looked like you were already dating, already a couple. But if you looked closer you could see your burning red ears and the awkward glances when one thought the other wasn’t looking.

He listened as if your words were golden, perhaps some drug he'd been waiting for. From what he says you can tell he is thinking so deeply, already with a strategy that's several moves ahead of what you’re capable of after too many shots.

“So you’re really close with your parents?”

“Yes, but I don’t live at home anymore. It started to get really tense with just the three of us living together. They didn’t want me to go but now they understand that moving out was the best thing I could’ve done for our little family. Every time spend together is because we want to and when we have a lot to say. When I lived home it sometimes felt like an obligation to go and talk to my mom.Which I hated but I didn’t know how to change it.” The food was already devoured and the both of you were the only ones left in the little restaurant. He had ordered a second bottle of soju and there were no walls around the two of you. 

“It must have been a difficult decision to make.” And in his words was a kindness, a concern that is so natural for him. This attentiveness is apart of who he is and that is, if you’re being honest, the most attractive feature you’ve ever seen in a man. And as the hours go by it becomes the best conversation you’ve ever had too, it flows, with listening and intelligent responses. 

**

The walk back to your campus was quiet. His hand didn’t find its way toward yours. The streets weren’t as busy as they had been before. The moment you stepped out of the restaurant, reality struck. This was actually not supposed to happen, you starting to like Korean boy who lived seas away from you.

“Have you ever dyed your hair?” He suddenly asked you. A simple nod of your head seemed to suffice. “I’ve always wanted to dye my hair black, but going to the hairdressers they always said I should cherish my brown locks. I mean, we’re in Asia, you know, a lot of people with black hair.”

“I can dye your hair if you want to.” You offered a bit too enthusiastically as this was a promise to meet up again after today.

“Tomorrow evening I have a dance class but I can hang out after.” The last part came out like question and your heart couldn’t help but skip a bit at his cuteness.

“I’ve applied for that dance class so I will also be available after.” His eyes locked with yours and the both of you were just smiling at each other for what felt like minutes.

“You can go in first so people don’t get the wrong idea or something.” He casually said and that’s the moment you realized you were close by campus. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Jungkook.” Goodbyes were shared and you ran toward your room. You didn’t stop when someone called your name, you barely halted at the stairs running two steps a time. When you finally got in your room, you were out of breath and crashed to the ground. Luckily for you your roommate was out so nobody saw you in this weird state of anxiety and happiness. Apparently the two of them were friends in your mind now and they didn’t stop bickering about your shared moments with Jungkook.

Just sitting there your eyes were staring to get tired again due to your lack of sleep the night before. You had eaten so much of the food that Jungkook had ordered your body was ready for a long slumber. It took all of your last efforts to get up and drop yourself unto your unmade bed. Your personal dreamland opened up his welcoming arms and with a content sigh you were off to wherever your dreams would be taking you that night. Zzz

**

It was still weird waking up with a snoring roommate in a different country where nobody spoke your mother tongue. All communication had to be done in English or very crappy Korean. The first few days in Seoul have gone by so fast that you had barely seen anything. You had seen the airport, your campus and two bars and a restaurant close by campus. A mental note was taken to sightsee this weekend without a lame excuse like having to drink with your fellow students. Even though you knew you would choose the drinking option if it presented itself at the right time, like right after class.

The weather was going to be great today so you decided to wear one of your favorite summer dresses. Very casual but apparently also an eye catcher as a lot of people complimented you on your way toward breakfast. 

“You look nice Y/N.”

“That color looks really great on you.”

“Oh do you have a date or something?”

Were a few of the compliments people had given you. Alfie noticed you immediately when you entered the cafeteria area and made his way over to you. The look on his face was filled with worry.

“Where did you go last night? I saw you running to your room all worked up. Everything fine?”

“Oh, I went to eat out alone and afterwards I quickly ran to my room to call my parents.” The lie was easy and effective as Alfie instantly believed you. 

“Good. Then I can fill you in on campus gossip.” His eyes got bigger as he was ready to spill the tea. You grabbed some food and followed him toward his seat.

“There is already campus gossip?” You asked in disbelief. 

“Yes, and it involves your boy.” His smile broadened as he noticed he had my full attention.

“I don’t have a boy. You’re my boy here.” You tried to play it cool even though your heart was racing. What could it be? That he was a known player? Did he have a family? Does he have a child? What could it be?

“And it involves you.” Your eyes widened in disbelief. Did somebody see you have dinner? And if so, why would that be gossip worthy? Don’t we all go out and have dinner with handsome strangers?

“Apparently I was right that he definitely took an interest in you.” He said after taking a quick bite of his breakfast bar.

“What could you possibly mean by that? Can you please tell me what’s going on? Do I have to hide in shame?” You looked around and tried to keep your head down. The yoghurt bowl in front of you was suddenly the last thing you wanted.

“No, I think everyone is quite proud of you to be honest. Everyone is staring at you with jealous eyes.” And he was right. Everyone was staring. Maybe that was the reason everyone complimented you and not just because of the dress.

“What are they saying? I mean, if something had happened I would’ve told you so please enlighten me with you knowledge.”

“Some of the staff also have a crush on Jungkook, and to be honest I think every girl and boy on campus has a crush on him. Some of these girls have tried, but like really tried to get his attention but it never worked.” He sipped from his orange juice but you put his glass down and motioned for him to continue.

“He is nice and friendly and will always answer your questions and blabla but he has never dated anyone. Hell, he has never even talked to a girl if he had to initiate the conversation.” You started to realize where this was leading too. It strangely calmed you down knowing the gossip was about Jungkook not sleeping around. Not that you really cared, you know, he’s not yours or anything.

“That’s were you come in the picture. He has initiated a conversation with you on multiple occasions. He immediately notices where you are and is very interested in your extra activities, if you know what I mean.” The last part was said with a naughty look in his eyes so the only thing you could do was hit him at the back of his head.

“Why are you so defensive? Is something really going on?” His voice was only a whisper and you were glad he finally showed a little bit of tact around you. 

“No, as I said before if there was I would’ve told you. I just don’t like being talked about especially if I didn’t even do anything. I just excited and people created a much more interesting story around it.” A sigh escaped your lips and in that moment Jungkook wandered into the cafeteria. It seemed like he had overslept as his hair was wild and curly and this made it harder for you to tear your eyes off of him. He quickly grabbed some fruit and sprinted outside without noticing the effect he had on the whole room. If all eyes weren’t on you before they were most definitely now.

“I’m just saying if you could hit that you should. You owe it to all the girls who are eying you with pure venom pouring out of their eyes.” 

“He is good-looking but I don’t want to hit anything. I want to learn and I want to sight see and I want to have drinks with you.” It came out more desperate than you originally intended but this whole situation was getting on your nerves.

“Maybe he could learn you new things you know.” Alfie said with a smirk that deserved another hit to the head. “I’m sorry, that one was really too easy. You want to have a drink tonight?” He asked you hopefully. You remembered the plans you had made with Jungkook to color his hair but you couldn’t mention this to Alfie as you had already lied about you whereabouts yesterday. 

“No, not tonight. I think I might study tonight. Because of our last drinking session we practically missed a full day of class even though we were in the room. I didn’t learn a lot yesterday.” The excuses and lies were easy for you today and it only made you grow a certain disgust for yourself. That’s why you don’t want to hang out with cute boys. They make you go al coo-coo in the head and you most definitely didn’t have time to be one of these girls who left everything for a certain pair of pretty brown eyes. Tonight you were going to tell him you would not be secretly having out with him anymore as the lies were already building up.

“I’ll try to catch up today in class, speaking of-“ he opened his phone to check the time “-we should be going if we don’t want to be late.” You ate your last spoon of yoghurt and threw the remaining in the nearest garbage can. 

**

“So that ends our class for today. Remember to pair up and wander around in Seoul to take some pictures.” The teacher remarked as everyone was packing up their bags and waiting for his cue to leave. “You can go now.” He finished and everyone jumped out of their seat toward the exit.

“You want to pair up?” Alfie asked you and you happily nodded your head.

“I am extremely honored that you thought of me to be your everlasting partner through the busy streets of S-“

“Yes I get it. Let’s look for some food. I’m starving.” Alfie interrupted you ready to discuss the more important matters, such as food. Your stomach started growling and Alfie shot up a look of fascination. 

“It’s really strange how much noise your stomach can make.”

“My belly is just really excited to be here. Asian food has always been my favorite. So stop talking and carry me outside.” You said while jumping on his back. He had an odd kind of spluttering laugh but is was contagious. The both of you were running through campus with the biggest grin on your faces.

“Hey Y/N, Alfie, where are you guys going?” The shrieking twins yelled after us. Alfie dropped me and turned around.

“We’re going to look for some food as we’re both starving. You want to come with us?” You asked them hoping they would say no, which of course they didn’t. They agreed and some other people heard too so now you were going out to have some food with Alfie and six other people of your class.

“So Y/N what is going on between you and Jungkook?” Amalia asked you innocently but her eyes showed an interest you couldn’t quite place. Borderline obsession was the vibe she was giving you.

“Nothing is going on and I don’t really know why people would think that. We had two conversations and I’ve only been here for four days so that would be really quick of me to jump on something or someone.” You tried to explain calmly but in the end your annoyance with the situation showed.

“I would jump that on my first day.” Agate muttered under her breath and everyone started laughing. This wasn’t the only moment they tried to get some information out of you but you always just brushed it off. Food was eaten and some soft drinks were shared and before you knew it, it was time to go and get ready for dance class, with Jungkook, as teacher. 

“I’m definitely going to wear something sexy. He can not deny what I’ve been given once he notices.” Amalia said on the walk back to our dorms.

“Well, he first has to notice you as Y/N takes up all his attention.” Agate said while eying your reaction.

“Don’t be worried girls. I will be wearing simple black Adidas joggers and t-shirt.” And so you did what you said. You changed into your only pair of sport pants you had with you and also put on a bucket hat so you could hide your sweaty face while dancing. You were definitely no dancer and nobody had to see your face all sweaty.

“Y/N, you ready?” Alfie yelled from the other side of your door. You took one last look in the mirror and decided to have a good time. Tomorrow there will be other more interesting gossip and people would forget about you and the handsome young man.

“Yes, I am but are you?” You asked while opening the door. He was wearing flashy green pants matched with a blue sweater. 

“I am not, but I have the best outfit out the two of us so I will be fine.” He said while tugging at your hat. The both of you were laughing when you entered the rehearsal area. Jungkook was the first you saw in the room and your eyes locked almost instantly. He was kind of wearing the same outfit and a blush was, as always, to be found on your face. The both of you almost looked like a couple matching their clothes and you could hear everyone’s thoughts. 

“Why are they dressed the same?”

“Is this a secret confirmation of what we already knew?”

“Why does Jungkook look so good in black Adidas joggers combined with a white T-shirt.”

The last thought might have been yours but you knew everyone must have felt the same. He looked good in everything. Alfie guided you toward the back of the room and the both of you ignored everyones stares.

“Is this what it feels like to be famous?” Alfie whispered.

“This is what it feels like to be hated.” you sighed while you put down your towel and water bottle and went to stand in line next to the shrieking twins. They were both in a rather sexy workout outfits and you couldn’t help but admire their determination. You simply mouthed ‘hi’ to them and they both smiled at you. They might be a little jealous but they were good girls, somewhere.

“You look amazing Y/N.” Agate complimented you and you just smiled.

[sometimesrosy]

I just found out that there would be no Spacekru flashbacks in season 6 and I'm quite bummed. Not that I like BE (I don't) but it would have been cool to understand how they went from Bellamy trying to kill her to "we found each other in a cage". It's hard to get invested in a ship with little to no development, even more so when you already ship BC. I don't know if it's a deliberate choice and we're not supposed to care about BE or they had to cut those scenes for budget reasons but it sucks.

We found that out months ago. The no spacekru flashbacks. So this doesn’t count as a spoiler.

It doesn’t bother me at all. Why you guys think we’re supposed to be invested in a relationship that the narrative has spent no time on is beyond me.

I have heard so many people say JR FAILED to get us invested in B/E, as if that was some sort of ERROR or accident, when he commits ALL this screen time to Bellarke and the Bellarke reunion and the Blake siblings, and their falling out, and then y’all are like, but he wants us to be invested in B/E so he failed to do that.

And I’m just like.

WHERE?

Where does he want us to be invested? In that intro to B/E contrasted with 30 minutes of Clarke suffering alone and LONGING for Bellamy to come back, and then 1 minute of b/e and Echo immediately questioning if they were going to last on the ground?

Or was it their love scene, which was, honestly, HALF a love scene, with a direct fade to CLARKE, again feeling alone and wanting to leave. And THEN we see her grief and sadness at seeing them together before E leaves and they team up again to save Madi and everyone?

Oh was our supposed investment in B/E supposed to happen when they separated and he barely mentioned her again more than as family and a dependable spy??? 

I suppose our investment was supposed to come when Bellamy poisoned his sister after she mocked him for loving both Clarke and Echo? Even though he didn’t mention saving Echo, only saving Clarke when he did it.

Is our investment supposed to come when Echo confronts Clarke about not caring for Bellamy, Clarke says she always cared, and then the back from the dead L tells her not to sacrifice her true love the way she did, and Clarke immediately gives up her antagonism, and basically GIVES Bellamy to Echo telling her to go save him. Something I just noticed? Lxa might very well have betrayed Clarke because Bellamy WAS in the mountain, and he DID do what he promised and PROVED himself to be a hero and worthy of her care and trust, and was IMPLIED to be part of the reason why Clarke rejected lxa in her overtures. AKA, Lxa might have taken her enemy’s offer because she was freaking jealous of Bellamy, while Clarke, relinquishes her hold on Bellamy because she loves him more than she believe she deserves his love. She’d rather have him alive and victorious in the arms of someone else. Oh but you know, that Clarke and Echo’s moment about Bellamy opens up much wider and reflects upon all sorts of narrative points really means that ITS ABOUT B/E and that’s who they want us to care about.

Maybe our investment was supposed to come when they reunited, awkwardly in the rover with octavia? Or with the hug that was pretty close to how he hugged Harper? So romantic! So touching! What a connection— not. 

Oh our investment should be when the three of them finally interact, and Clarke looks at him with heart eyes for saving Eligius, and he looks guiltily at Echo as if he’s done something wrong. That’s definitely a sign that B/E is endgame. When just existing with his soulmate makes him feel like he’s cheating although he’s done NOTHING wrong. 

There is actually NO EVIDENCE that the writers want us to be invested in B/E. I think you’re making that up. I think you’re listening to antis, who don’t care what happens in the story, because all they care about is that Bellarke is blocked and their ship is alive. They never seem to notice if it is being built up as strong and endgame in the narrative, if they make the characters better, or what/who the narrative is about.

If you are taking evidence from people who think the hero is NOT Clarke and/or Bellamy, then you are taking evidence from people who are misreading the canon. CAN you imagine a story from Echo or Lxa’s pov? You sure can. Is that the story being told on screen? It sure isn’t.

They are telling the story of Clarke, of Bellamy and of BELLARKE. Also of the Blake siblings. And there is not one b/e scene that is not ALSO telling the story of Bellarke or the Blake siblings. OR is completely a spacekru scene and depicts them as family. ALL romantic scenes between B/E are Blake or Bellarke related.

HOWEVER. Not all Blake or Bellarke scenes have a thing to do with B/E. In fact, almost none of the Bellarke scenes have to do with B/E and about idk 10% of the Blake scenes have to do with B/E. 

What part of that tells you that JR wants us to be invested in B/E? 

WHY do you think they’re just failing to get you invested, instead of setting B/E up as a conflict for the MAIN relationships of Bellarke and the Blakes? I mean. She is LITERALLY the character that is in the way of both of Bellamy’s most meaningful relationships?

I don’t understand why you think it’s NOT a deliberate choice when it’s actually in the damn dialogue as well as the narrative and cinematography and editing. How many people do you think are ACCIDENTALLY focusing on Clarke and Octavia INSTEAD of B/E? 

Here’s what I think is the problem. Fandom tells us that shippers understand the story better than the professionals writing the story and the writers are “doing it wrong,” because it doesn’t conform to our theories, headcanons and fanon. Fandom has convinced us that fandom’s hot takes are more true than canon. Canon tells you Bellarke is the center of the story. But shippers tell you B/E is. 

Dude. The shippers are wrong. 

This story is ABOUT Bellarke, not B/E. We saw 30 minutes of Clarke alone and NO minutes of B/E development because the story is about Clarke being separated from everyone ESPECIALLY Bellamy. And the season was about reuniting Bellarke, not being invested in b/e.

They HAD time. If thy wanted to invest us in B/E they had 30 minutes of a dead girl’s story to erase. If it was about how much Bellamy had grown to love Echo instead of how Clarke was lonely and lost and talking to Bellamy every day, WE WOULD HAVE SEEN B/E. We did not. 

Because THAT IS NOT THE STORY.

Sorry if I’m ranting. I’ve heard this from the beginning of s5. “If he wants us to be invested in  B/E and Echo he failed.” Somehow people translate this into “He wants us to love B/E and he failed, he’s a bad writer,” instead of the other possibility in that statement. “He DIDN’T want us to be invested in B/E and Echo and he succeeded.” 

Like, y’all would rather believe that the people who wrote this story/characters you love are completely incompetent rather than them telling a different story than your first impression led you to believe. 

[robot-unicorn-attack]

CHAPTER 01 - FLOWER

(written by @bebemoon)

… CHAPTER 01. 

“Oh- god, I think I’m going to be sick-” 

Aura had just barely managed to shoulder her way between the pair of stylists crowding her apartment before throwing herself into the tiny lavatory to be sick. 

“Pretty,” one- the blonde- muttered to the other, but not so quietly that Aura couldn’t hear. “If she throws up on that outfit, we’ll have to put her in something else- and we’re already behind schedule.”

“I don’t have a backup outfit,” said the other- a bony lavender-headed woman. “Her people told me not to put her in the black dress- it doesn’t work with the ‘pixie-whatever’ image.”   

The blonde sighed, irritated. 

Aura sat back against the wall and leaned her head back, waiting for the nausea to pass. The glistering, crystal bodysuit they had her fitted into was needling her skin, causing her some annoyance. She really didn’t feel up to clubbing at the moment, least of all as the fresh and always-lively “Flower”. 

Death first. 

“Are you just going to sit there?”  

Aura lifted her head from the wall. The two women were standing together outside the lavatory with their arms folded- waiting. 

If only she had managed to puke on the diamond catsuit. Those two would’ve been fired for sending her to the Demon in the wrong outfit (or naked), and she might’ve never seen them again.

“Get her up, Xera. Check the suit,” the blonde commanded. “We don’t have time for this !” 

Lavender-locks rolled her eyes but stepped into the lavatory all the same. She got Aura to her feet and gave the suit a good once-over, turning Aura all the way around twice to be sure. 

Satisfied, she gestured for the blonde to hand her the billowy, pale green gown that went over the silver suit. It really was just the thing a clubbing cyber sprite would wear- the gown’s bottom was hemmed with big, yellow blossoms and gossamer “wings” sprouted from the shoulder blades to stream after her like double trains. 

Aura loved the dress, but the prickly catsuit was for the birds.

The stylist, Xera, fastened Aura into the feather-light dress and stood back to get the full effect alongside her blonde companion. Her face almost instantly fell into a look of disappointment, then: “Get the holo-veil. She looks like a corpse in a fairy costume.” 

The blonde scurried off in search of the veil, and Xera stepped forward to adjust the fall of the dress. Quietly, she asked, “What’s with you anyway? Are you pregnant?”

Aura choked on a humourless laugh. Her overwracked nerves were causing her to lose things- sleep, meals, her mind possibly what with all the isolation she felt. Most of all, her patience was wearing thin- her tolerance level for having words tactlessly flung at her was dropping so rapidly she foresaw herself causing violence by the end of the night. 

“I’m due next month,” Aura said dryly- too dryly for someone wearing such dazzling clothes. “Don’t tell anyone. Could you help me with my shoes?”    

-

  “Flower”, haloed in fluttering holo-butterflies, blossomed into existence the exact moment Aura crossed the The Neon Demon’s threshold in a would-be Cinderella moment were it not for J.J., her totally-tatted babysitter, towing her along in his wake as he cut a swath through the enormous, pink-lit crowd of club-goers. 

She felt a few people touch her shoulder- perhaps to get her attention- but J.J. was focused on ushering her to the back of the club where a raised dais was roped-off for the exclusive use of RURs and their entourages. He didn’t even bother bringing Aura up the steps- he simply lifted her up onto the dais by the waist and shouted over the throbbing electro-music that he had to “piss” before disappearing back into the chaos of glowing bodies. 

Aura was already starting to feel light-headed as she took in her surroundings. The dias was littered with people- not all of them racers, but Aura was the only one who was on her own. Luckily, though, she didn’t see either of her teammates- Supernova or Sunbeam. Playing court jester to the Queen and Princess of Sky World would’ve been far too much for her already-frayed nerves. 

As she stood unsure of what to do with herself other than look blithe and “Flower-like” for anyone watching her, someone on the dais said her name- her real name- in a sultry tone. 

“Aura.” A tall figure with glowing eyes slipped between a pair of industry suits and was making her way over.  

“Sol?” Suddenly, Aura was transported to a dimly-lit discotheque a few days before her very first race.  

The other girl grinned devilishly and swept an errant lock of long, dark hair over her bare shoulder- the other was bristling with spikes. “Been a while,” she sang low on a golden wink. “You’re finally back.”

Aura released a laugh that she hoped sounded genuine instead of manic, like she felt. “God, right?” she expelled, as she briefly embraced her old friend. “Finally. We need to catch up.”

Sol’s eyes seemed to flicker like little flames as her grin deepened. She had yet to drop her hand from Aura’s waist. “I’d really like that.”  

Aura was suddenly acutely aware of the attention she and Sol were garnering. Really, racers from different agencies were discouraged from socialising publicly with one another. RUR fans liked drama and rivalries, not warmth and friendships. Amicableness between racers was not good for business.    

Across the dais, a suit was wildly gesturing to get Sol’s attention. When she finally decided to notice him, she rolled her molten eyes. “I told him I was coming over here to try to make you cry,” she whispered. “I’ll just tell him you worked some of your fairy magic on me, and now I’m nice.” She turned and jabbed her taloned fingers into her cheeks to make dimples at the man, who dropped his arms and gave her a withering look back. 

“Your fans would have my head,” Aura replied and pinched the other girls arm. 

“You’re right, I’m much happier being hated. I’ll see you later, Flower,” she said, and pointed a gold-tipped finger at Aura. “This time, on Lava turf.” 

The trademark wicked grin returned briefly just before she spun around and headed back to the other end of the dais.

At that moment, towards the front of the Demon, people were pressing together at the entrance, and Aura’s immediate thought was that it was one of her teammates causing a commotion with their arrival. So, she decided to retreat to a curved sofa area that was semi-obscured behind some crystally curtains that bi-sected the dais. There, a table was set with pyramids of glowing drinks, and though it was tempting, Aura imagined if J.J. caught her, she wouldn’t hear the end of it all night. Not worth it. 

She set herself at one of the “c”-shaped sofas in a pool of blue lighting, and while she was in the middle of wondering just how long it takes to piss, a man appeared with two glasses in one hand. A suit, by the looks of him, but not anyone from RISE. 

The man, slick-looking but clearly wrecked, propped his elbow on the back of the sofa Aura was occupying only to have it slide off. He stumbled backwards and sloshed some of the glowing alcohol on his- where were his shoes? 

He blinked, opened his mouth- closed it. 

“Er-” Aura began, but he cut her off with something she translated as vulgar. 

The suit was getting uncomfortably close, and Aura was quickly trying to figure how much trouble she would get in for kicking some industry lush in the chest- but before she could do anything, a pale hand closed over the man’s shoulder, pulling him aside. 

Snow- the Snow, appeared from behind the guy wearing a glimmering, diamond-encrusted headdress and took hold of his collar with two fingers as if it were a tissue containing a dead spider. 

She said, “Hey, Aindrew. How’s your wife?” 

The man- Aindrew- rolled his eyes and snorted, but didn’t reply otherwise. 

Snow nodded knowingly- then glanced over at Aura. 

Aura couldn’t have made up a wilder scenario in her dreams. Even through the holo-veil, she was sure that Snow could tell her eyes were actually the size of saucers. 

The other girl turned away, and though Aura couldn’t hear well over the music, she seemed to be delivering some harsh words to the suit whose eyes drifted up to the weighty headpiece. He swallowed and put up his hands. 

Snow released Aindrew’s collar, and he almost tripped over himself to get away from her. And once he was clear from their sights, Snow carefully lowered herself onto the sofa beside Aura. 

“Your bodyguard goes on break and the wolves descend,” she said, a single silvery eyebrow lifted- almost chidingly.   

Aura was almost too gobsmacked to make words- Aura-words or Flower-words. She just replied, “Thank you for that.” 

Snow laughed softly, toying with the veritable chandelier of diamonds cascading from her ear. “Of course.” She offered her heavily-jeweled hand. “Hi there, I’m-” 

“Snow- !” Aura burst. “Oh my god, I know. I’m a huge fan of yours.” 

“‘Marivana’, I was going to say- but thank you,” she replied, dropping her hand, and then cast a look over her shoulder at the end of the dais. “Do you know Nyx well?” 

Aura blinked. She had been wondering if she should tell Snow- Marivana about the little S.C. figurine she had on her nightstand when she first started out in the industry- just to prove her huge fan status. She hadn’t been expecting a question about Nyx. 

“We’ve spoken before,” Aura replied, following the other girl’s diamond gaze to a tall figure posing for a photo. “Danced, also, but that was years ago.” 

“I see...” Marivana turned her attention back to Aura. “I’m sorry, your name has slipped my mind.” 

Made sense- why would someone like the Snow remember her name. “Flower.” 

“No, I-” Marivana paused to laugh. “I know your nickname. I meant your actual name.” 

“Oh- Aura. Aura Philyra.” 

A woman with an earpiece came over with a flute of something icy blue and gave it to Marivana before walking off again. Marivana took a dainty sip and asked, “And where are you from?” 

“Ice World.” 

This seemed to surprise the other girl- her eyebrows shot up. “Really?” she said, a note of incredulousness in her tone. “You don’t strike me as someone from Ice World.”

Aura felt like an idiot, but there was no way she was telling her long-time idol that she was from some unknown moon. “Oh. No?” 

“No. I buy it as much as I buy the little fairy story your management made up for you.” 

“Ah, well. I’m actually embarrassed now,” Aura murmured. She fought the inclination to drop her forehead onto the table in front of them.  

Marivana shook her blonde head, sending her dazzling earrings into action. “Don’t be. Every racer has a gimmick.” 

“Yeah, but mine is-” Aura searched for a word. “-stupider than most. But at least the clothes are pretty.” 

Marivana’s eyes flitted over Aura’s clothes and she took another sip of her drink before remarking, “They certainly are.” 

Is she- Aura could feel her cheeks reddening. -wait, wait, wait...no. She’s being nice because she feels sorry for the Sky World halfwit who almost got puked on by a married, shoeless man. 

“So, you’ll be racing this week?” Marivana went on.  

Aura bit back a knee-jerk “Aura” comment along the lines of: “Yes, and I want to die.” Instead, she said, “Yes. I can’t stop trembling. Everyone keeps telling me how important this race is- like I need to be told.” 

Oops, that was too much… 

Marivana’s lips twitched upwards into a small, sympathetic smile. She placed the empty flute on the table and said, “Give me your hand.” 

Aura instantly obliged, and watched, transfixed, as Marivana ran her middlemost finger gingerly over the centre of her palm, before wrapping her pale, shimmery fingers completely around her hand. 

All she could really think was that Marivana’s hands were much warmer than she had expected them to be.

“Powdered chalk,” the blonde said, looking as if she was trying very hard to stifle a smile. “For your nerves. You’ll want a light coat of it over your hands, to keep them from getting clammy while holding onto your reins-”

Just then, J.J. appeared, evidently done pissing. He cast the crystal curtains aside and divided a bewildered look between the two girls who were still holding hands.

“What-” 

But Marivana cut him off before he could say anything more. “I’ll see you soon, Aura. I’m sure,” she said, and only then did she let go of Aura’s hand. 

Completely ignoring J.J., who had to move to avoid being hit with the headdress, Marivana stood and walked back through the tinkling crystals. 

J.J. dropped himself across from Aura and spread his hands, palms up, over the table. “And what were you two talking about?” he asked. “You know Korvan doesn’t like you girls talking to racers from other agencies.” 

Aura folded her arms and sat back. “How was your piss? Took a while. Maybe you should see a physician.” 

“Okay, whatever,” he sighed and ran his hands over his bald head. “I don’t even care enough to report it.” 

“Aw,” she crooned, lifting her shoulders adorably the way Flower would.  

Given that she had almost certainly been hit on by her long-time idol, Aura was starting to feel much better about the evening- her nerves about the upcoming race were settling somewhat... 

However, in the name of balance, Supernova and her retinue passed by on the other side of the crystal curtains a few minutes later, and Supernova actually paused to acknowledge Aura.

And, when she did, Aura spit sparkling water all over the front of her clothes.