#they just took the opportunity to bully a mortal

[cusswordsbutmakeitgay]

My favorite thing that Holly Black did with Locke was having him be obsessed with stories, convinced he was the main character and puppet master and then killing him off in a footnote

[fungus-no69]

hope lovecraft is rolling in his grave as I write this. I hope more people write about eldritch horrors being gay and shit. lovecraftian gay sex… (i do not write smut)

Context: it is a beautiful day in rapechestershire and you are a horrible monstrosity

Content: Body horror I guess, reader is a little petty (deserved), dol typical bullying, brief and non graphic gore in Kylar’s, mentioned animal death in Remy’s (you are Eating The Cows), some spoilers for Ivory Wraith’s lore

Remembering to oxidise your body is a burden, making your heart beat is a chore, remembering to move the rest of your vessel with your expressions is tiring. What do animals even need these rigid pieces of flesh for?

…though you quickly realised the value of muscles when your meat began to droop around your faux bones which is something you’re fairly certain does not happen to mortals.

Of course, you can’t maintain a full rest while above water in this fashion. You’ve come to learn that humans do not particularly enjoy a mass of greasy limbs, mottled flesh and gunky mucus spread on the floor. 'Sleeping' is nice though, as limited as your opportunities are. Humans are fickle creatures and that also applies to their sleeping habits.

Nonetheless. You need to practise your human-form-making skills. And what better way to learn about appearing more human than to attend the industry of learning itself?

Whitney:

Why this blonde mortal took an interest in you? You're not sure.

One day they were there and they never left

They’re always poking at your vessel. Rude…

Thanks to them and their lackeys you had to learn how to fake falling over when punched because apparently it’s strange to just stand there and take a hit without flinching.

They know somethings wrong with you but they can’t put their finger on it, this leads to even more bullying

Most of their harassment is about how you look and act apart from the straight up sexual assault.

They once saw you slip up on your transformation because it was a particularly irritating day and you briefly reintroduced your habit of scaring off others by posturing.

Not your finest moment, I say. They passed out because your mutilated structure was too much for their poor human mind to handle.

Thankfully you can help them forget the incident or write it off as some weird drug induced hallucination. (by distracting them with something inconvenient when they wake up. Like an ice cube in their mouth. Or a cut to their gums.)

You can’t let something like that happen again

Sydney:

You don't know why they're looking at you weirdly. You have the correct amount of teeth this time. You checked.

They help you out when people ask you stupid questions like 'are you a ventriloquist?' 'how can you bend that far?' and 'hey where'd your elbows go?'

It’s always awkward to dismiss yourself during those encounters, considering your ‘schoolmates’ don’t tend to let things go and are rather fixated on following their more malicious instincts towards you than letting you leave. So Sydney’s help is appreciated.

You leave little gifts for them in the library. A book you found in the lake and dried, the foot of a rabbit (humans find that lucky right?), little shiny objects you discover while walking around.

You’re far from weak or incapable but Sydney’s interventions make keeping up the act more bearable.

Over time they find that they become enamoured with you and that’s terrifying to them. One, because they’ve never felt like this before and two, Jordan seems to disapprove of you in some way? They don’t explain why but they warn Sydney about you. Which raises some issues which you don't completely understand for all of your infinite (old) wisdom.

As they become more corrupted, they get a bit more pushy with their ‘subtle’ questions about you- thankfully they never nag for too long.

You fear that Sydney, loyal and kind Sydney, will leave you when they find your true nature. That they will find you repulsive like many before them.

Thus, you will hide your true nature from them. No matter how often they ask or the fact that they know something is off- you can never let them confirm those suspicions.

Kylar:

You see the way the shadows loom over this mortal- they are more connected to the other worlds than they realise.

This draws you to them in a way, having someone who is more connected to your home than everyone around you. And them to you, though you suspect this may have happened regardless of your identity.

Kylar is another anomaly in a sea of others who look different but are fundamentally indiscernible. If you were to cut open a human and pry open their ribcage, you would find the same thing in each one. But not yours. And perhaps not Kylar’s.

They seem to feel a strange compulsion to protect you. You’ve seen this type of behaviour with Sydney and maybe Whitney to an extent, but never to the intensity that a knife was procured.

You understand that the utensil is sharp but you're a little bit confused to why the students run away when they see it? Stabbing someone requires strength and you're fairly certain Kylar is not very strong.

Surprisingly, they were the first one to ask about why you speak the way you do. When asked what they meant they told you that you speak in a very formal manner. Your expression must have made a change in some way because they quickly apologise profusely for offending you. It doesn't.

If you sulk about it a little then that's nobody's business other than your own.

Harper:

You get sent to the asylum for your silly behaviour (crimes and general strangeness that does not pass for mentally healthy) and Harper tries to gaslight you "there are no tentacles they aren't real" explain this.

You don’t have a firm grasp on human behaviour yet, especially when it comes to being polite but c'mon. Even you know this guy is a weirdo.

They will inevitably learn about your true nature regardless of how hard you conceal it.

Hypnotism doesn’t work on you, your blood is too dark and thin to resemble a human’s, sometimes you forget to make your heart beat etc.

They’re not as freaked out as you thought they’d be but they do want to run some tests on you

You say no thank you because even if it’s just for ‘personal research’ you don’t want your inhumanity on record (and Harper’s a creep)

They attempt to blackmail you in a sense but you stand strong on your opinion. Who would they tell and even then, who would believe them? And then there’s the fact that there is no human nor invention that can contain or incapacitate you.

You may meet them on your vacation to Remy’s farm, they’re initially confused to see you there but just as easily accept it. As much as they want to understand you- you’re not exactly human, so they don’t expect you to act by the rules of humans.

It would almost be nice if they didn’t finish their little spiel by dragging you to a stage. Stares make your epidermis feel like there’s little bugs underneath it and you feel the urge to peel it off to escape the unpleasant sensation. You don’t, because that would reveal you.

You end your holiday by trashing their office.

Remy:

You originally came across their farm because you were hungry. Remy, of course, noticed the dwindling population of their cows and went to investigate. Lo and behold- they found you.

They don’t know for sure if you’re involved in the missing cows but they suspect you’ve stolen them or something. Not that you ate them.

You allow yourself to be captured, you could annihilate these puny humans if you wanted to but something tells you this place will grant you rest and food.

The fact they stole your clothes was mildly irritating but you can easily get some when you return 'home'. What do humans call it? The five finger discount? You're not sure what having five fingers has to do with saving currency but you appreciate it regardless.

You don’t develop transformations. You lack the biology to do so, but seeing other cattle develop their features tips you off to the fact you’re supposed to be gaining ears and such so you try to replicate them…

The farmhand who opens your stable in the morning almost shits their pants

You don’t try again after that.

Remy is wondering why their cattle are STILL disappearing.

Ivory Wraith:

They are much similar to yourself, tethered to this mortal realm through an object. Though their emotions are a bit more… uncontrollable than yours.

But perhaps that came with being human. Formerly, you suppose. Not that you would know what it’s like to be human.

They know your existence is eternal, will last for much longer than their own given their own circumstances.

Inevitably, they belong to this world and you do not.

Nonetheless you understand each other to a point, with both of you being non human and somewhat incorporeal.

They vaguely recognise you from long ago, a painting or two within the temple depicting a monster. They had never really examined it, being too unsettled to do so.

They also remember that during the schism, they felt the presence of something much larger than themself. They suspect it may be you, though they’re not certain.

No matter, you're here now.

…

It is the first time you have felt desire for something other than rest in centuries.

You have never been one to want. You do not experience emotion as deeply as mortals (or former mortals) do, somehow simultaneously deeper but so shallowly. You do not feel affection, and even if you have, it has surely been so long since then that you have forgotten. And yet…

You think this strange feeling in your fleshy midsection is the closest to love you can get.

[quixotical-lymbo]

Hi- I was wondering if I could request separate Wukong and Macaque headcanons for a reader who forgets to do important stuff? Not like work stuff or anything like that- but like- vital stuff? Like sometimes they forget to eat or sleep or take care of themselves properly. It’s not that they don’t want to, they just forget sometimes. But with their friends and people they care about, they never forget. Always reminding the group to eat and rest and stay hydrated while pushing their own needs to the side? only if your comfortable doing this of course!

Pairing: Wukong, Macaque & gn!Reader Rating: SFW Warnings/Tags: Y'know the drill, fluff, brief mentions of starvation, lack of sleep, and some crack from you-know-who.  Word Count: 500+ words 🍜 - didn't know if you wanted romantic or not, but I guess you can decide for yourselves if want it to be either or!

WUKONG

☀️ At first, Wukong thought you were playing some long con joke. I mean, there's no way you could forget to take care of a few important factors in your small, mortal life? I mean, even he knew not to miss a meal or nap if he could help it!

☀️ However, Wukong managed to witness it himself whenever he had the opportunity to visit PIgsy's shop. You seemed fairly normal, save for the heavy dark bags under your eyes and the way you took a few seconds to reply to anyone, but overtime Wukong could tell you hadn't slept a wink last night.

☀️ He'd bring it up in a joking manner, and when you sheepishly reveal that you forgot, his joking tone would turn into that typical older brother tone and remind you about the importance of sleep and how your body is a temple yadda yadda yadda. 

☀️ After it happened a few more times, Wukong would feel a bit exasperated ESPECIA-FUCKING-LY when you would remind MK or Mei to get enough sleep or eat their meals on time. 

☀️ Literally would be like, "Oh, you're one to talk." or "Are you sure you aren't reminding yourself to do these things?" 

☀️ At this point, he's gonna bully you into remembering. 

☀️ Overall, underneath all the teasing and playful gestures of him forcing food into your mouth–Wukong is worried about your forgetfulness, even if you don't mean to forget. 

MACAQUE 

🌙 Assuming that the two of you tolerate each other to be above the acquaintance stage, he wouldn't care at first. I mean, people normally forget to do things in favor of other responsibilities–and he wasn't your warden, so who was he to remind you to take care of yourself? Plus, with how often you remind the others to eat and drink water, he assumed you were on top of your shit. 

🌙 Oh, how wrong he was. 

🌙 Macaque didn't think he'd end up being the one to supervise how much you ate, drank, and slept without your knowing. Without being obvious, he'd sometimes slip a cup of water in your general vicinity, an apple here and there, or even kidnap you and bind you to your bed until you closed those annoying eyes of yours. 

🌙 You were very…persistent in your forgetfulness that Macaque stopped keeping an eye on you just to see what would happen. 

🌙 Well, you passed out in the middle of the street due to dehydration. 

🌙 Never again. 

🌙 Anyway, he learned to not stress himself out with this problem as he turned to MK to take over his duties as your 'mom.' 

🌙 From time to time he'll check up on you, but he'll keep his distance unless the situation calls for him to step in and make sure you're safe. 

🍜 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. sparkle banner(s) by @adornedwithlight !!

[baldurs-gape]

You have been perceived.

Oh Nonnie, trust me, I know. I have spent the last couple of days alternating between the sheer panic of having been perceived and also the deepest desire to know why?! There's over 2000 Bloodweave fics out there. Just how and why did Shores end up being the one he picked?! Especially with those tags. I almost feel compelled to profusely apologise that he had to read those with his own eyes. But then I remember that while the story is my sin, I'm not to blame for him noodling around on AO3. And if he did have a sneaky read, I bloody hope he was polite and at least left kudos.

Anyway. More importantly. You sent an ask and so you shall have a ficlet of thanks for finding my little corner of the fandom and interacting.

Mortal Hands

The room at the Elfsong Tavern was the height of luxury compared to the road the party had been on for so long. Various exclamations of relief and gratitude mixed with sighs and grumbles about who gets which bed. Perhaps the one Astarion picked wasn't ideal but as least it was in the corner, he could see the entrance to the room and, if needed, could probably make an escape route through a window. Without any discussion or ever question, the bed next to his was left empty for Gale. It took a few minutes for their wizard to drag himself in, looking more haggard and tired than usual. Obviously the message from Elminster about seeing mystra hadn't gone down very well. He looked ready to crash face first into the pillow and not resurface for tenday or so.

"You're going to get the bed filthy," Astarion drawled as he watched Gale blink at the bed with confused longing. "Get cleaned up. You can thank me when you're awake again."

A pout. The great Wizard of Waterdeep, the Chosen of Mystra, an archmage of great renown was pouting at Astarion like he'd just told him he can't have a second helping of pie and custard. That was just rude. Being the more mature of the two of them, Astarion rolled his eyes in response.

"Must I do everything? Come along." For all his griping, Astarion was up and leading Gale towards the wooden tub he'd spied earlier. It didn't take long to arrange for it to get filled with steaming hot water and he barely had any time to grab Gale by the arm and hoist him back before the other got in. "Were you raised by boars? You get in there like this and you'll be sitting in your own much. I should call you a filth wizard."

"But-" Gale began and was cut off with a hand gesture.

"Sit."

Thankfully Gale sat and actually looked grateful for it. His eyes closed as Astarion went about drawing a couple of buckets of water from the tub. Towels, a bar of soap from his own pack (pilfered from Raphael's rather decadent bath) and Gale's shaving kit.

First things first, Astarion bullied Gale into stripping, frowning at the bruises that were revealed. Not to mention that his wizard looked more slender than before. They were going to have to pay more attention to supplies it seemed. Once naked, Astarion picked up a bucket.

"Close your eyes and hold your breath."

"Wha-" The word morphed into a splutter as Gale spat water out. He was dripping and glaring, and it really shouldn't have been such a good look on him.

Not missing a beat, Astarion set about washing him from top down. Working shampoo into Gale's hair, he listened to the soft exhales, watched as Gale's shoulders slumped, head tipping into the touch. Astarion used his fingers to find tangles and gentle teased them out. Half a bucket rinsed the suds out. Next was the unsightly scruff of beard. It had been much better maintained but the shadowcursed lands hadn't exactly afforded them much opportunity for personal care.

"Is this really necessary?" Gale asked even as his hands settled on Astarion's hips to steady him in his lap. "Surely it can wait."

"You'll feel better. We'll go see Mystra tomorrow and tell her where she can shove the crown."

"She doesn't care about looks."

Astarion raised an eyebrow. "I don't care about what she thinks. I want you to feel good about yourself."

As he spoke, his hands worked gently over the scruff, cleaning it and working up another nice lather. Reaching for the razor, Astarion waited a moment, knowing all too well that Gale would try and speak whether he had a sharp blade against his skin or not. Sure enough, he was right.

"She won't be impressed by a bit of grooming. Not even hunting down a bit of magic would impress her."

"Do you know how much effort I'm having to put into not making a comment about Mystra and grooming?"

Gale sighed. "She's a goddess. She doesn't need to worry about things like grooming or wind blowing a wisp of hair out of the way."

Rather than say anything, Astarion stared at him and shook his head before taking a gentle hold of Gale's chin. The aim wasn't to get rid of the beard, just to tame it and return it to its more usual look. He felt the moment Gale realised the meaning of his words and his jaw flexed. In response, Astarion tightened his grip a little to keep him quiet.

Once satisfied with his work, Astarion used a towel to wiped him clean before reaching for another lotion. Yet another thing he'd lifted from Sharess' Caress, it was something to keep a beard softer. Rubbing it into Gale's facial hair felt oddly meditative and Astarion got lost for a moment in the feel of the hairs against his palms. It was only when Gale's head fell forwards before jerking back up that he realised they were both drifting.

"Only a little longer," he murmured and got up.

The last bucket of now tepid water was used to wipe the worst of the grim off Gale. His arms and legs were lifted on command and Astarion did his best not to laugh too much when he worked on cleaning ticklish feet and Gale squirmed, nose scrunched up.

Finally satisfied, Astarion nodded to himself and gestured at the tub which was warm but no longer scaling.

"Get in."

The groan Gale let out as he sank into the water came from the soul. Knees bent, he sank in until his shoulders were under the water, eyes closed. Astarion flipped a bucket upside down and sat on it behind him. Starting without a word, he let himself play with Gale's hair, fingers digging into his scalp as it turned into a massage. Deftly he moved down to his jaw, knowing that Gale had a tendency to grind his teeth which left him aching and frustrated quite often. Once his mouth was slack, Astarion returned to playing with his freshly tidied up beard, touching for the sake of enjoyment.

Under his care, Gale all but melted. He sleepily nuzzled into Astarion's palm, resting comfortably against it like it was the world's most decadent pillow. The trust of it had Astarion's throat tight. Nobody before Gale had put so much faith into him. The assumption that he would hold Gale, keep him above water and allow him to rest was the purest form of love Astarion could imagine.

"Come along, before you become the Wizard of Watersleep."

Drying a half awake Gale off, Astarion led him to the bed where Gale happily burrowed under the blanket. There was just one problem. Sleepy brown eyes stared at him imploringly. Astarion found it almost impossible to resist.

"Let me quickly get cleaned up. Then I'll join you."

Never in his life had he washed himself quicker. It was still too long. By the time he returned to Gale's side, the wizard was already asleep, blanket clutched to his chest in lieu of another body to hold. Somewhat disappointed, Astarion sat on the edge of the bed to watch. The dip in the mattress didn't wake Gale fully but he did snuffled and shuffled towards the edge of the bed, making more room. Taking the invitation, Astarion curled up next to him, smiling to himself when the blanket was kicked away in favour of Gale wrapping around him more securely than a mindflayer's tentacles around a head at feeding time.

Rest was quick to draw Astarion into a trance. It had been a long road and they weren't anywhere close to being done just yet. But at least he had Gale and Gale had him. That was going to have to be enough when they faced the monsters of their past in the next couple of days.

[rinwellisathing]

I kind of wanted to do a post about Sentry's trauma like in depth because actually why I started writing him and returned to fanfiction in general was my therapist telling me that storification is a healthy, safe way to explore trauma. CSA, sexual abuse, rape, misgendering, etc. All under the cut so beware!

Sentry Ojeda was given to a Bhaalist couple to raise when he was born, they named him Vereena Mortis and as Bhaal's own flesh, his parents were assured he was prime breeding stock within the cult. At an early age 'Vereena' did not consider himself female despite what his 'family' insisted based on his body. He was expected to breed with male cultists, particularly those of high rank or existing Bhaalspawn from Bhaal's past unions with mortal women. This technically began when he was still too young to have children because his adoptive parents wanted him to be ready when the time came.

The final straw in the abuse was when Sarevok came to breed with Vereena, leaving the then twelve year old battered, bruised, and bloodied. Sentry felt a dark rage inside of him and this was the first time his urge took over. He killed his adoptive parents as well as the next breeding partner that came to use him. He stole the herbs he needed to make sure he didn't get pregnant, and he ran away, surviving for a week on the streets.

After that week was over, Evagria Ojeda, a paladin of Ilmater and trainer of young paladins found him and brought him home, nursing him back to health. Unlike his birth parents, she acknowledged Sentry as male and used her surgical skills and healing magic to help him get a bit closer to the body he wanted. While she and her old friend Father Lorgan loved Sentry as a son and treated him well, his fellow trainees hated him, predominantly because he was a tiefling, but it was possible they sensed he was also a Bhaalspawn.

When Evagria and Lorgan were away, Sentry's peers would often abuse, humiliated, and bully him including sexual assault, but he never told or fought back, afraid he might tear them apart like he did in his first home. When Evagria died of illness four years after adopting him, however, his tormentors tried to murder him at the grave and again, he snapped and murdered them, turning them into the first art piece he can remember making (he doesn't remember how he made the one out of his first parents). Sceleritas Fel then introduced himself to Sentry and brought him back to the Bhaal cult.

Most of his fellow cultists treated him well and his fellow favored Bhaalspawn (Tomi, Gabraela, and Orin) loved him as a brother and were very much like a real family towards him, but his older 'brother'Jackal initially took any opportunity he could to beat Sentry into submission and molest or assault him, at least until he found himself on the receiving end of one of Sentry's murderous blackouts just before Sentry was named Bhaal's chosen before the rest of the cult.

This is why Sentry has such a long standing and unbreakable attachment to Enver Gortash. He was the first person Sentry didn't have to pay (Wysp and Ffionn were kind to him and were friends of his, but he understood they were doing their jobs) who actually cared about his autonomy and his consent. While at first he jokingly thought to himself it was pretty sad that a tyrant was the first person to wait for consent, it actually did mean a lot to him. In Sentry's very traumatized mind, this means his relationship with Enver is the end all, be all no matter what other aspects of it may have been toxic or unhealthy.

This also does allow him the relate more easily, however to Halsin and Astarion's traumas when he has relationships with them and go on a healing journey within those relationships.

[an-aura-about-you]

ok let's see what more I can get through on Handbook for Mortals

Chapter 10 part 2:

when we last left our hero, Scheherazade was talking about how it's bullshit that she has to make a choice and not get an answer directly from her tarot cards and I flipped a table.

-time for another round of When Is This Story Set? Dela is apparently a fan of the Monkees, a band who was known and relevant back in the 1960s. this doesn't necessarily mean Dela was a teenager in the 60s, but I'm kinda guessing that she was, which could track with Zade being 25 in 2011. this is assuming Dela was in her late 20s or early 30s when Zade was born. that or it could be later if Dela got into them later, which certainly isn't unheard of.

-random anecdote related to that because if Sarem and Zade can do it so can I: when I was in high school one of my friends was the biggest fan of Elvis Presley. like she LOVED the King, had a bunch of Elvis merch, and was just unapologetic about her interest in him and his music. she was also unapologetic in the way she stood up to protect the unpopular/bullied kids and was a dear friend to my sibling as a result because she would NOT stand for anyone picking on him. sadly, she passed away young due to a health condition. shortly after, I had the opportunity to go to Graceland, and I took it thinking of her the whole time.

-so apparently the Monkees thing has a point because that is somehow the source of what appears to be Zade's philosophy: where there is choice, there is misery. I could not disagree more. in fact, I know the perfect literary example that serves as the antithesis to that thought, and that's Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine.

-speaking of that, now's as good a time as any to discuss who this book is for. it showed up on the NYT Bestsellers List under the Young Adult category. Sarem has flip-flopped on whether this book is YA or not with the one soundbite I've personally seen has her saying it's technically not a YA book because the protagonist is in her 20s. if that doesn't sum up how inaccurate Sarem's understanding of literature and its classification is, I don't know what will.

but, judging by the book and not what the author says, who IS this book for?

it's too juvenile for older readers with the way the author dumbs things down, explaining things that should be plain in context (like "the T's" being a nickname for the Plain White T's), explaining things that don't need to be explained because they don't enrich the story (like mentioning a Game of Thrones character and then explaining that he is a character from Game of Thrones), and even re-explaining things that she's explained before (like showblacks and the EDR).

but it's also too mature for the tiniest babies with its sexual content. aside from the innuendos, the fact that Mac had a one night stand with Clara who then broke his heart is a crucial element of the love triangle plot. there's also a weird incest vibe that comes up if you see the twist coming, which is easy to find because, and I will give this to Sarem, at least she IS building in hints to it. but the hints are on the level of that one Where's Waldo? gag in The Simpsons Treehouse of Horror III:

so the only thing I can really conclude is, in spite of what the author says, this book is most suitable for young adult readers.

-also, another random note that I'm not sure where else to fit in, allegedly the author of My Immortal spoke up to confirm they are not Lani Sarem and did not write Handbook for Mortals. I don't remember if that was the person who was going to have the memoir and it turns out they didn't write My Immortal or if it was someone else, but isn't that a wild thing to even contemplate?

-back to the book, a guy starts hitting on Zade, and she takes the time to tell us she's not the "get picked up at the bar" sort of girl. it's perfectly fine not to be but with the constant juxtaposition of this kind of attitude and how the Mean Girls behave, I'm getting really sick of this looking down on girls having fun. what are you trying to do, kill Cyndi Lauper?

-in spite of this, Zade says she likes how he's fawning over her. once again the narration indicates that the only thing Zade cares about in a relationship is being desired.

-Mac goes to intervene and the guy's like, "Is this your boyfriend?" and Mac chickens out and says, "Coworker." good job keeping up the status quo, buddy.

-Mac tries to invite Zade to join him and the others to do shots and Zade's thinking, "Doesn't look like they're waiting on me to join in." for once in this book, people are doing something absent of Zade! it's a goddamn Christmas miracle!

-oh wow, we've got a violent action tally mark but NOT for Zade this time! the guy grabs Zade's arm to try to pull her back when she tries to go with the group.

-Mac grabs the guy's arm back to force him to let Zade go, and I will let this one slide a little since it is a defensive action.

-and after a bit more escalation, the altercation ends before it even gets started in the most cartoony manner: Mac sidesteps out of the guy's way and he slams into a metal support beam.

-Zade takes the time to mention that the girls at the bar aren't paying attention to Mac and Tad's conversation about what just happened because they're too busy talking about shopping at the mall.

-Tad is of the mindset that the only reason a guy would defend a girl in that situation is if they're dating. damn, that's douchy.

-oh wow, it's possible we're about to get some actual friendly conversation between Mac and Jackson.

-Jackson says he's sure Zade appreciates Mac "defending her honor," which. yeah I guess that's the term? idk, it doesn't seem like the right way to describe what happened even if it technically is.

-so, Tad and Jackson have to be the ones to tell Mac that Zade can make her own choices instead of Zade. yeah, this tracks.

-Pearla, one of the girls near Zade, tried to get her in the conversation they've been having, but Zade was just zoning out after Mac's conversations were done. and Zade's thinking, "I'm just no good at this girl-bonding stuff." but the thing is Pearla did it by asking Zade what her favorite clothing store is. this, to me, is obviously an emotional bid. Pearla is already doing the work to try to make the connection. the ask is so small and Zade is still complaining about it.

-another girl complains about how one manufacturer only sells online now and how she wants to try on clothes before buying them, and the narration says she declares this "very passionately, as if we were talking about world peace or something." girl, you know people are allowed to care about little things too, right? you know people are allowed to get worked up about small annoyances? I know you will a bit later and will have a Totally Proportional Response to it.

not to mention wasn't there a chapter earlier when you tried on like 28 dresses to find the right one to wear to Jackson's show?

-for once Zade is glad about not being the focus, though I'm still trying to wrap my head around all of this. Lambo Girl had said that some women can't stand Zade because of her magic, but these women all seem pleasant enough to Zade. in fact, all the women seem pleasant enough to Zade except for Sofia, Mel, and the girl from Hot Dog on a Stick. Sofia has good reason to be pissed at Zade, Mel is going along with it because she's Sofia's friend, and the girl from Hot Dog on a Stick is just a kid who doesn't know any better. and that is all of the women.

-and if all of that wasn't enough, the chapter ends with Zade excusing herself from further conversation with the girls "so that I could leave before I started banging my head against the table." it is unclear if the banging her head against the table would be from her knowing she needs to decide on who or what she wants or from the girls' conversation. at this point it could be both.

it's kind of amazing watching Zade carve all these exceptions for herself. she's not the kind of girl who gets picked up in bars but revels in the attention of men there all the same. she treats the girls who talk about shopping with disdain when she had the written version of the trying on clothes montage that is totally gonna be in the movie they are definitely still making. to give you a little taste of the next chapter, it's gonna start with Zade doing her makeup and basically playing around with whatever's available to see what she likes, which MUST be for her own personal use since professional shows have, y'know, professional makeup artists who do stage makeup. I mean I'm certain there are performers who can do their own stage makeup, but there's no indication that's what Zade's doing. Generally Pooky's got this great bit about Zade's makeup in her video on the chapter in question and I definitely recommend her stuff in general and that video in particular.

but on the upside, we have just finished Chapter 10. counting starting from Chapter 0 and knowing it ends with Chapter 21, we have finished the 11th chapter out of 22 and have made it halfway through the book!

[halos-top-alien-model]

Sangheili Bracket Round 1 Tiebreaker 2

More info below:

Kitun 'Arach:

Debuted in Halo 5: Guardians

Part of Jul 'Mdama’s Covenant, he would be present in the Battle of Kamchatka, leading a lance fighting back against Promethean forces. He would form a temporary alliance with Fireteam Osiris against the Prometheans, before they left him to continue on their mission to kill Jul 'Mdama. Following the Covenant leader’s death, Kitun would look to figures like the late Imperial Admiral Xytan 'Jar Wattineree for inspiration on the Covenant’s new direction. He also became disinterested in continuing the war against humanity, largely due to the costs. Later, he would be one of prominent commanders during the assault on Vadam and the Battle of Sunaion. Between these battles, he would receive a message from his brother Jacul to join the Swords of Sanghelios, but he instead would request his brother switch sides to the Covenant. The two brothers would then meet in battle at Sunaion, with Jacul dying and Kitun being mortally wounded with only enough time to leave a final message regarding their fight.

Additional commentary: Yeah, unlike other Mission Intel figures, you actually meet this guy in the flesh. Canonically, he’s the Covenant Sangheili you make a temporary alliance for the achievement Enemy of my Enemy, with that achievement being canon since he then goes on to do all that stuff on Sanghelios you learn through Mission Intel.

Asum 'Mdama / Bakar:

Debuted in Halo: Glasslands

Born Jan. 20th, 2542 as the second son of Jul and Raia 'Mdama and the younger brother of Dural. He was trained in combat by Naxan - the great-uncle of Raia. When he learned of his mother’s death in March 2553, he went to nearby fields to mourn. Then, he began to be fostered by Kasha 'Hilot as he assumed the new name of Bakar. She would take him to Onyx - her new place of work - and he would attend the Pax Institute while there.

It was around September 2558 that Molly Patel would transfer to his school, leading to her, Kareem El-Hashem, and Unggoy Gudam Keschun to come across him being bullied by three human peers. He would at first avoid trying to defend himself, until one of the bullies hits Gudam hard enough to draw blood. However, just as a full-on fight ensues, an instructor named Dinok 'Acroli breaks it up. The next day, Molly would be forced to sit at the same table as Bakar, giving him the opportunity to chastise her for making him look weak, until the other two arrive. Their attempts to become friends with him causes him to leave. Later, he would be stuck in the same self defense lesson being taught by Spartans Tom-B292 and Lucy-B091 with the same trio. During a field trip to the Repository, Bakar would open up to the trio a little and bond with them. Then, things took a turn when a beast called a rafakrit attacked. Kasha would go to distract the beast to save everyone else, only to get injured in the process, leading Bakar and his new friends to launch a risky plan to save her. After this, the Spartans and Director Mendez talk with them, which would then lead them to sharing with Bakar the identity of his father: Jul 'Mdama (due to Sangheili customs, he did not know this before). Even after learning the Covenant remnant leader was his father, Bakar would continue to feel hatred toward him. Also during this conversation, they would warn him that his brother had joined up with the Servants of Abiding Truth and had possibly infiltrated Onyx. However, much later, Cortana’s message would be sent to all of the galaxy and Onyx’s Guardian would awaken. Bakar was at school be it occurred, forcing him to join those hiding in the cafeteria. When Prone to Drift arrives, he and his friends concoct a plan to have Drift reach the Guardian and disrupt its communication with Cortana. Then, the Servants of the Abiding Truth attack the school, killing some people and taking Drift away to the Repository. Bakar and friends would pursue, using some creatures also chasing the Servants in their plan to stop them. After catching up, Bakar would confront his brother and beg him to stop, while Dural felt he had been dishonored and should kill himself. In order to keep the attacking creatures from hurting Bakar, Dural chose to whistle a distraction and sacrifice himself, being carried away. Another creature would remain, but Lucy would arrive and take care of it, getting injured in the process. The kids would take her and Prone to Drift away in the Pelican Lucy brought, then fly close enough to the Guardian so Drift could disable it. Now, Bakar is amongst those living in hiding from Cortana due to Onyx’s slipspace bubble being reactivated.

[oscartwofoxtrot]

[kicks down the door like the kool-aid man]: hi oscar talk to me about your favorite scene that you’ve written?

Sorry this took so long to answer, I was, apparently, writing an entire thesis. You Have Been Warned.

Oh my god uhhh. My favourite scene…okay, if I had to go with one, it’d probably be the scene from The Valiant Never Taste of Death I unofficially refer to as ‘Everybody’s dying bitch, let’s get you some peanut butter’. This comes about a quarter of the way through the second (proper) chapter, Requiem (NB: if we’re going by AO3 numbers then it’s Chapter 3, since there’s a Prologue chapter as well, but I don’t tend to count that numerically), and it’s the bit where Nate gently bullies Brad into sitting down and having a snack. And then uno reverse-cards him into talking about his childhood trauma. [Slaps scene] This bad boy can fit so many emotions in it!

For those unfamiliar with Halo 4 (which in all likelihood is most if not all of you), you should know that for the most part, I tend to hew fairly closely to the story and plot structure of the game when writing Valiant. But linear first person shooters don’t offer the characters a lot of opportunities to sit down and talk about their feelings, so this scene is an oscartwofoxtrot original! Sure, the action scenes can be fun, but there’s nothing I love more than getting to write Brad and Nate in their quiet moments, and I crowbarred this one in here to really dig into that Deep Halo Lore and hopefully use it to get at some of the complexities of their dynamic in this AU.

Speaking of complexities, you ask me anything at all about Valiant and I am not so much going to unpack the suitcase as start pulling hat stands and potted plants out of it Mary Poppins-style, so…this shit’s gonna need an itemised list.

1. Nate: [Basically refuses to acknowledge his own mortality, but you better believe he makes sure Brad remembers to eat and take a break every once in a while]. Also, Brad displaying just how whipped he really is. They may not have the same relationship dynamic as canon, but Brad pretty much lets Nate tell him what to do most of the time. tbh I think he likes it.

2. We get another hint at the circumstances surrounding Nate’s capture by the Gravemind. I alluded to this event in the prologue but have thus far avoided going into too much detail about it, so you’d better believe it’s a Surprise Tool That Will Help Us Later. One of the biggest challenges of writing an AU based on the fourth game in a series is finding the Goldilocks Zone of exposition – too much and you lose the current plot thread as well as the attention of literally everyone reading; not enough and the whole thing is virtually incomprehensible to normal people who don’t spend all their time on Halopedia. Trying to get that balance right is, shall we say, an ongoing struggle.

That said, I have been having way too much fun throwing out passing references to stuff like this – and this particular occurrence is a Big Deal in the world of Brad and Nate, because I think it may be the only time they’d been apart for more than like 24 hours since they started working together. (The backstory of their first meeting is a whole other essay in its own right, so I’ll just slap a sticker on this that says ‘Ask Me About My Canon Timeline In The Very Unlikely Event That You Are Interested’). Nate had become such a permanent fixture in Brad’s life, I doubt Brad understood what it would even feel like to miss him until he was gone.

And now that Nate’s life is in danger again, Brad has a very clear understanding of the stakes involved. Almost losing him the first time…it wasn’t The Moment of Realisation (more on that later), but it certainly did crystallise some deeper level of awareness on just how important Nate is to him. Of course, last time, the problem was one of distance – Brad was light-years away and couldn’t immediately get back to Nate, but there was a fortress to storm and a dragon to slay so he could save him. This time, Brad is right there, and he can see Nate suffering, and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it.

3. Couldn’t resist throwing in a version of the Peanut Butter MRE Temper Tantrum lol. I am at heart a giant sap and I do love writing them joking around and just being incredibly fond of each other. Because there’s no officer-enlisted divide here, it gives them more room to develop the casual familiarity and vaguely flirtatious banter we see hints of in the show. The spectre of Nate’s Rampancy does cast a pall over the whole thing, but it wouldn’t be Generation Kill without some serious mood whiplash. Speaking of which…

4. Hello and welcome to my impromptu TED Talk on the Insane Fucking Lore behind the SPARTAN-II program! (On all levels except physical I am this Brian David Gilbert Unraveled video). That’s right: the Spartan-IIs were kidnapped from their families at the age of six and, to avoid suspicion, replaced by clones implanted with their memories who would die within months due to congenital health issues caused by the cloning process. And as Nate points out, the UNSC didn’t even have the justification of the Covenant War, because that hadn’t started yet! They did this shit because various colony worlds wanted independence from the United Earth Government – but that would negatively affect the economy, so apparently the only two options available were ‘bloody civil war costing billions of human lives’ or ‘covert military operations to quash nascent insurrectionist uprisings, carried out by fucking child soldiers who we put through brutal training and experimental bio-augmentations that killed or permanently maimed like half of them’.

So, uh. That’s fucked! And what’s wild is that even though this has been a feature of the expanded universe since the beginning, it’s something that’s barely ever touched on in the games. Nate only knows about it because he went snooping for Brad’s unredacted file not long after they met for the first time (based on Cortana doing the same in the Halo prequel novel The Fall of Reach). For what it’s worth, Brad’s stated mindset is pretty typical of how the Spartans themselves feel about the whole thing: it’s been normalised for them because it’s the only life they know.

Nate, meanwhile, is understandably horrified, and it’s clear they both recognise the parallels between their experiences – the UNSC took away Nate’s autonomy too, by the very act of his creation. In between the Gravemind and the Rampancy, it’s something he’s been increasingly struggling with: that he was brought into being as a fully-formed person to serve a specific purpose, with the knowledge that he’d only have an operational lifespan of seven years before his systems started to decay irreparably. I can’t put it better than the Gravemind did (courtesy of the Halo short story Human Weakness by Karen Traviss): “Your creators made you separate. They placed a barrier between you and the beings that you would be encouraged to protect, a wall you could never breach. They even gave you a human to centre your existence upon, a human to care about, yet never considered how you might feel at never being able to simply touch him. Or how he might feel about outliving you.”

Damn are you guys seeing this shit? This is fucking crazy! Anyway I’m Rod Serling

5. Rule number one of Valiant: Brad does not know that he’s in love with Nate. Ya boi is pining without even realising that he’s pining. This isn’t a reflection of how I most commonly interpret canon – I look at show!Brad and I’m like ‘yeah, there’s a guy who’s 100% self-aware that he’s simping for his platoon commander’ – but in this AU, the Spartans’ lack of normal human socialisation has left him without any practical life experience of things like romance, so he’s just not quite able to put a name to those feelings. Yet, anyway.

As for Nate? I’ve been writing under the assumption that he is aware of his own feelings, but isn’t totally sure of Brad’s. I reckon he probably has a good enough read on Brad to at least suspect that Brad might reciprocate if made aware of the situation, but without any way to be certain, Nate’s unlikely to bring it up. Even I’m not fully decided on when Nate’s Moment of Realisation was. I do have a few ideas, but it’s not a detail that’s ever specifically relevant to the fic, so feel free to speculate.

In conclusion: …idk man, it’s been a year since I wrote this and I don’t completely hate it yet so. that’s probably a good sign, right? sorry for rambling it will happen again

[wheretheresaway-theresawilliam]

Chapter 21: The Good Lord Taketh Away

Word Count: 606

TWs: Implied murder, food mentions

⛤⛤⛤

The stakes had risen in William’s quest for knowledge. Why waste the golden opportunity of the animatronics he already had on hand? It was a good thing two of them seemed so prone to issues, even with attempts to fix them swiftly and efficiently. When Chica was retired to the repairs room one day, William took his chance; another young girl, Alana Ellwood by name and a gullible brat by nature. The promise of toys and sweets just for her and no one else was more than enough to seal her fate.

By this point he had begun bringing SpringBonnie back into circulation as a walking character, to make things easier. He always kept the necessary tools on hand to make the suit appear presentable, even after messes of blood and tears.

Getting the soul to possess the animatronic was the least of William’s worries. He wouldn’t let Chica back on stage until he was sure it would perform as normal, even with the added consciousness. If this was a success, he could give all of the animatronics a bit of life. Alana would be the first Norman would come face-to-face with, as William let him stay late to help with assimilating her to her new life.

“This is incredible, William,” Norman gushed as he watched all three children play together from afar. “To think, if Michael hadn’t--”

“Oh please, I can’t bear to hear you give him credit for any of this,” William glared at him as he spoke. Norman cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry… but how else would you have discovered such a thing?” William didn’t answer.

He knew Chica would have to get back on stage eventually, lest people begin to question her absence, so he wasted absolutely no time in his experiments with electricity. Enough voltage and an animatronic could be rendered to its initial state, soulless, while the ghost inside would be temporarily rendered incapacitated. It wasn’t foolproof, of course, as there was no telling how long this unconscious state would last, but it would do for now. Chica returned to the stage within three days.

“Rough going on repairs, William?” Henry asked when they put her back. He had been stiff toward him for the past couple of weeks. William couldn’t fathom why.

“Just trying something different. I think I’ll do the same with Foxy, since he’s been giving us trouble.”

“What’s Michael been thinking about doing after he graduates?”

“How should I know, he doesn’t want to speak to me. Not like helping out around here would interest him, anyhow… can you believe there was a time when he thought what I did was ‘cool?’” He never dwelled on those days, when it had been just him and his son.

“Maybe it’s not that he doesn’t want to speak to you, but that you aren’t listening.”

By the time William had turned to retort, Henry had disappeared. If you only knew the half of it, my friend.

There was no rhyme or reason to the children William chose, not really. All that was required was that they were willing to follow the yellow rabbit away from prying eyes and helping hands. Lonely children, of course, were easier to convince, but bullies and brats followed just as complacently. Promises of cake and candy and toys were the lures behind which a shining hook waited to bleed the mortal shell dry in order to make way for a new vessel. The best part was that none of them remembered a thing. They all believed William was a saint who loved them like his own children. Perhaps he loved them even more.

[marilynmonroefanfics]

My Cinnamon Roll

You were a new boy in town. Your parents moved to Gotham searching got better opportunities.

They quickly enrolled you in Gotham City School. You were you were so happy to start a new life and adored your new school.

However you couldn't hide your shyness nor nervousness. In your first day you knocked at your classes' door and prayed for the best.

“Please come in.” said the teacher.

“H-Hi, I'm Y/N L/N.”

“Oh! You must be the new student!”

After getting done with the introductions, the teacher ordered you to seat next to a certian Damian Wayne.

His bule eyes locked with yours and you couldn't read his expression, he seemed quite mysterious.

You introduced yourself to him, but he simply responded with a simples "My name's Damian.”

Throught the next weeks you were able to make a few friends and proved yourself to be a good student. The teachers quite liked you, you were a very dedicated boy.

There was also a certain boy who also had their eyes on you. You were a quiet boy who never bothered him (because you thought he didn't like you). Damain found himself peeking at you during class, when he was sure you didn't noticed of course.

He found it insanely cute how you would bite your lip when in deep concentration. He would find himself looking at you when you were doing something on the board, and maybe look at your fat booty (he's a horny teenager).

Anyhow, he didn't speak to you, the poor baby found his new emotions too overwhelming.

You were such a cute cinnamon roll, he was perfectly content on watching from afar.

But one day everything change, you see there were some boys in your class. Troublemakers, who pocked fun at you, at first you dismissed their comments, but one day they took it a step forward.

At recess they corner you and start making fun of you, making fun about your chubby body and just being extremely rude. One of the bullies punched you in the stomach making you fall to the ground in pain.

Since his new found feelings for you, Damian had been keeping a close eye on you, when he saw boys approach you, he was on full alert mode.

And one one of them punched he lost his goddamn mind.

Damian went full Mortal Kombal mode on those fuckers, he beated their asses so bad they had to go to the infirmary.

Naturally you two ended in the principal's office. Damian quickly explained what had happened, defending you quite brightly in the process.

The principal understood, simply calling your parents and ordering you two to go home.

After that you become really good friends, kid in the school actually respected you and the bullies didn't even looked at you, Damian would kindly beat their asses again if they did.

He insisted in being with you at all times, you had lunch together, studied in the library together, etc...

Damain opened up to you, as you did to him. You found his dry humor really funny, he was actually a great guy.

One day you decided to thank him for being such a great friend, so, you baked him his favourite cake.

You knocked on the Manor's, waiting patietly.

An unknow figure greeted you.

“Hello buddy, who are you? And is that a cake?”

“H-Hello I'm Y/N. I'm Damian's friend.”

“Ooooh so you're Y/N? Come on in! I'm Dick, Damian's older brother.”

Dick guided you to the living room, where you were also greeted by their butler, Alfred.

Dick offered to go get Damian for you.

“DAMIAN YOUR CRUSH IS HERE!”

Poor Damian, at the speed of lighting he was there, blushing madly.

“S-Shut up, Grayson!”

“Master Dick, I think it's best to leave Master Damian alone with his friend.”

Finally alone, you explained why you came to his house with the cake.

“I just...wanted to thank you for everything, Damian.”

Damian was so happy, the poor boy get like his heart would burst.

That day you ended up in Damian's bedroom having fun and eating cake. What more was not to love?

He was so shy when confessing his love, bless his heart.

“I love you, Y/N. My cute cinnamon roll.”

You ended up leaving the Manor with a belly full of cake and a boyfriend.

Dick started teasing the hell out of Damian from that point on.

[robininthelabyrinth]

What if Nie Mingjue is raised by his mom and he only meets his father when he's a teenager?

Divinity - chapter 1/2 - ao3

Nie Huaisang wasn’t sure what to make of his new big brother, and it wasn’t really a consolation that no one else seemed to know what to make of him, either.

His father was delighted, obviously, though he still seemed a little confused by him sometimes for whatever reason, and the rest of the sect varied from utterly bemused to actively wary to thoroughly hostile. Nie Huaisang supposed it was because Nie Mingjue had shown up so late, already thirteen years old, and claimed right away to be the eldest son and heir; there were plenty who wondered if this was some scam intended to put a cuckoo on top of the Nie sect throne, such as it was. Those doubts were most prevalent among those of his cousins and uncles and aunts and the other common disciples that hadn’t happened to be there on the day when Nie Mingjue had first arrived, the skies suddenly darkening in the middle of the day, with lightning and thunder rolling everywhere.

Nie Huaisang wasn’t sure why they cared so much about it. Nie Mingjue was very nice.

He was happy to pick Nie Huaisang up and carry him around, and he wasn’t condescending about it or anything – if anything, he was actually very grateful for the opportunity, saying very seriously that they could make an equal exchange of it, with Nie Mingjue doing the carrying and Nie Huaisang helping answer questions for him that he might be too ashamed to ask of anyone else. Nie Huaisang had initially suspected this to be a dodge and simply indulging a child, but actually Nie Mingjue really did have a whole lot of questions, and pretty stupid ones, too.

“What do you mean you don’t know what a laundry does?” Nie Huaisang asked, idly kicking his legs which are dangling down from Nie Mingjue’s shoulders, his hands firmly clenched in his hair for balance. “How did you get clean clothing back where you’re from?”

“Differently,” Nie Mingjue said seriously – he was always serious, a little too serious, and really, Nie Huaisang’s father was right that they were going to have to teach him to lighten up, him and Nie Huaisang both. “There was a washer-woman, but the river she uses is forbidden for common usage.”

“You can’t say things like that,” Nie Huaisang patiently explained, not for the first time. “People will think you’re weird.”

“I will not speak unwisely to anyone else,” Nie Mingjue promised, and as usual when he did that his words somehow felt different from regular words, heavy, like all of the world around them had just sat up to take notice and witness it. “But you are my brother; you are my guide and my helper. If I cannot speak my heart freely to you, who in the world is there that I can? I have not yet found a soulmate.”

“Is that on your list of goals?” Nie Huaisang scratched his cheek. “A soulmate? Can I have one?”

“That is a matter for fate. No one knows, or can know, what is in the future.”

“Really? Couldn’t you ask…” Nie Huaisang wasn’t sure what to call it. Other gods and goddesses? Did Nie Mingjue count as one of those, with his mortal father? “Hey, did you have any trouble back where you used to be? Did people bully you?”

Nie Mingjue picked him up off his shoulders and took him into his arms. “What do you mean? Why would I be bullied?”

“Because you didn’t fit in,” Nie Huaisang explained. “Because everyone around you is one way, and you’re a different way – your parentage is different, your aspect is different…”

“Has anyone bullied you?” Nie Mingjue asked, his brow furrowing and a scowl appearing on his face. Nie Huaisang liked that expression on him, it reminded him of his father. “Because you’re not as martially inclined as the others?”

That wasn’t the point Nie Huaisang had been trying to make, but it was very satisfying seeing Nie Mingjue on a small rampage making clear to everyone that to the extent it had been happening, it was going to stop immediately. Nie Huaisang’s father backed him completely as soon as he realized what was being discussed, and it was all so terribly embarrassing – Nie Huaisang felt all warm inside.

“You never did answer the question, da-ge,” he pointed out while on his father’s lap for dinner. “Did you get bullied back where you were from?”

Nie Mingjue blinked. “It was not the same,” he said. He sounded a little helpless. “It’s not – comparable. I don’t have words to explain.”

“It’s all right,” their father said. “As long as you weren’t unhappy.”

Nie Mingjue thought about it. “No,” he said. “I don’t think I was. But I wasn’t happy, either, and that’s why Mother brought me here to you. She said that it’s something I can only learn by living.”

That made sense to Nie Huaisang, though the suggestion that whatever Nie Mingjue had previously been doing could not be accurately described as ‘living’ was a little odd.

“We’ll take care of you, da-ge,” he announced, very pleased with himself on his formal tone. “First we have to find you a hobby.”

“I already found one,” Nie Mingjue said, and Nie Huaisang thought that was really neat right up until he realized that Nie Mingjue meant his saber training which, ugh, no, really?

“That’s not exactly a hobby,” their father said delicately, and then took Nie Mingjue back to his study to talk in private – as if Nie Huaisang wasn’t going to eel his way into the cracks between the walls to go have a listen regardless. There were plenty of advantages to being small. “Mingjue, about the saber spirits…”

“I know I am likely to live a short life,” Nie Mingjue interrupted, his voice strangely gentle – or at least as gentle as it ever got. He was by nature inclined to be stern. “Those like me always do. I will enjoy the path I take, no matter its length. If I meet with a friend on that journey, so much the better.”

“I suppose,” Nie Huaisang’s father said. He was looking at his own saber contemplatively. “That’s an interesting way of thinking about it. Your mother can’t do anything about your – about it being short?”

“No, nothing. She tried, I think.”

Their father was silent for a long while.

In the end, he said: “I did not intend that. I would not have.”

“I am happy to be alive,” Nie Mingjue assured him. He sounded very earnest. “I want to be useful in the time I have.”

“…if you’re sure.” Their father hesitated. “There’s someone I think you probably shouldn’t meet, but you will, anyway, so it’d probably be best to get it over with sooner rather than later.”

That would probably be either Sect Leader Wen or Sect Leader Lan, Nie Huaisang thought. There were very few people his father actually cared about – his father was very friendly and had lots of people who thought they were his friends, but very few for which he thought the same. Sect Leader Lan, with his thoughtful but often incisively sharp tongue, and Sect Leader Wen, with his wicked humor, were among that few.

And as for someone Nie Mingjue shouldn’t meet…that meant it was probably Sect Leader Wen, Nie Huaisang concluded. When he was deeply drunk and thought that he and Nie Huaisang’s father were alone, he sometimes admitted that he wanted to be a god. All those rumors about Nie Mingjue’s past, about who his mother was, what they could do…

His brother really probably shouldn’t ever meet Sect Leader Wen.

Not everyone was meant to be a god.

“Do you have a thing that you focus on?” Nie Huaisang asked his brother. “Like war, or spring, or…something like that.”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, although he looked a little – unnerved, and possibly like he didn’t want to talk about the subject. “That’s not a good thing. You know that, right? To be associated with a single thing means that you do nothing but that thing, are nothing but that thing. It’s unhealthy.”

“Unhealthy?”

“Well, would you want to be known as the paragon of righteous vengeance?”

Nie Huaisang thought about it. “That sounds pretty neat?”

“Consider this, then: vengeance requires something to be vengeful about.”

That sounded a lot less neat.

“Okay,” Nie Huaisang said. “Is that a risk?”

“It always is. You always have to be careful, Huaisang – I’ll do what I can to protect you for a lifetime, but I’m only your brother, here for a short time; I can only do so much. What happens beyond that is up to you.” Nie Mingjue pressed his lips to Nie Huaisang’s forehead. “What type of person you are, what type of person you’ll become, the legacy you leave behind and the memory others have of you – whoever writes the history puts together the pieces.”

Maintaining a legacy for someone seemed like an awful lot of responsibility, and Nie Huaisang didn’t like responsibility. Or work.

Still, he supposed, for his brother’s sake, he could make an effort.

Nie Mingjue laughed when he told him that.

“You do what you like, Huaisang,” he said. “And I’ll do the rest.”

Much, much later, standing and patiently waiting outside a decrepit old temple in Yunping City, lighting incense for a god of righteous vengeance that had yet to be but which would, he hoped, soon be arriving, Nie Huaisang thought to himself that some things were worth working hard for.

[fcntasmas-archive]

also to play the prompt game, buddie + historical au (the period can be dealers choice. 💕)

combining this prompt with one from anon: Anonymous asked: Chris & Buck + arcade because turns out "historical", for the dealer, simply meant the 1980s! i hope you enjoy this mess anyway fadsklf ily <3

The thing about owning an arcade, Buck thinks, is that it’s often filled with asshole teenagers. Buck loves kids. Loves them. He can count on birthday parties pretty much every weekend, which is where most of his revenue comes from, and he’s always happy to accommodate the kiddos. He built this arcade from the ground-up, got it for dirt-cheap after the Atari video game burial of ’83, when the video game industry was predicted to fail and never recover from the E.T. game that was so bad, it’d made Buck cry a little. He bought it at a time when he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, and it turned into the most successful local endeavor he could have ever thought up in Los Angeles, California, the epicenter for everything coming up tech. Which means, of course, being popular with the kids, but also being popular with asshole teenagers, and having to watch them like a hawk every time they traveled into the arcade in hoards, like they were just waiting for the opportunity to feel Bigger and Stronger than the younger kids, who usually came round after school to wait for their working parents to pick them up outside of the pick-up and drop-off area. Buck’s basically a glorified babysitter, on weekdays. Which he doesn’t totally mind. He meets some interesting kids. There’s Thomas, for example, who wears heavily-prescribed glasses and talks with a lisp but knows more about Star Wars than Buck knows, like, in general; there’s Henry, who owns a pet turtle and always walks in with a surprisingly heavy bag of coins every Tuesday and Thursday; and there’s Raul, who likes to hog Pacman like it’s nobody’s business and Buck has to bribe with a dollar every time to get him to give someone else a turn. But nobody comes close to the bond he’s formed with Christopher Diaz.

If Buck could only choose one thing to thank this place for, it would be Christopher Diaz. His aunt – or, great-aunt, like Christopher’s corrected him about a dozen times – drops him off every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after school, then scurries to her evening shift next door at the 24-hour ER center. Buck and Christopher took to each other immediately – they both have an affinity for Mortal Kombat, and the kid’s pure sunshine, hands down. He’s always smiling and he’s always got a nice thing to say about his classmates or his teachers or his aunt – great-aunt – and he laughs at pretty much every single one of Buck’s jokes, which is so totally fair, since Buck is, objectively, hilarious.

(Shut up, Maddie.)

On the days there are asshole teenagers, however, Buck invites Christopher behind the counter and they’ll play a game of cards instead, or work on his homework together. He hasn’t seen them be mean to Chris just yet, and Buck still keeps an eye out for any bullying, but he’d rather not risk it with Chris. He can’t explain it – there’s just something about the kid that makes Buck’s protective instinct kick in, because he’s been coming here for nearly a year and it’s almost like – well, he’s Buck’s friend, weird as it is. Buck’s friends are of limited number and usually just as busy as him, and, sure, he doesn’t burden Christopher with all the weird adult stuff he has no business being burdened with, but they’re still friends, in a sense, and the kid’s aura is absolutely unmatched.

He’s a good kid, is what Buck’s getting at.

And if his dad is easy on the eyes, well.

Right, so Eddie Diaz picks Christopher up after his usual shifts at the fire station. He didn’t seem too happy to be doing so the first month or so, usually eyeing Buck with suspicion, but eventually he seemed to thaw and accept this weird dynamic between Buck and Chris, even going so far as referring to him as “Christopher’s Buck” once, which made him feel all stupidly proud.

Eddie Diaz looks like what Buck imagines someone who wanted to make the perfect man in a lab would at least use as a template. He’s thankful about choosing the low-lighting in this place every time he feels his cheeks warm when Eddie smiles at him, or thanks him for looking after Christopher, or says something like, “did you grow your hair out? I like it” or “Shaved? Bummer”.

It drives him crazy. Because not only is Eddie just – that– but he’s also got the coolest kid on the planet, and Buck is just some weirdo who owns an arcade that Eddie probably doesn’t think about outside of the maybe half-hour he hangs out with them after his shift, if he’s lucky. Sometimes Eddie’s so burnt out he’ll be in and out in less than a minute, offering Buck nothing more than a half-hearted smile and a goodbye.

And he thinks that’s all there is to it, all there usually is to it, just this stupid one-sided crush, until one Wednesday evening, after he’s finished helping Chris with his math homework, Eddie walks in, looking a little bit like a deer in the headlights, and Buck can’t help but furrow his brows in concern and ask him what’s wrong as soon as he’s withing hearing distance.

“Nothing,” Eddie replies, a little too quickly, and he seems to realize this. “I mean – I just—” he clears his throat, watching as Christopher gathers his things at a glacial pace. “We were just – I was, uh, talking to my coworker – my friend, really, we’ve been working together for a while now, and she – she was wondering—”

Buck feels his heart sink to his feet. “You’re not – trying to set me up with her, are you?”

Christopher sighs deeply beside him, but all Buck can focus on is the way Eddie’s face morphs into seven different expressions before settling into a mortified one. “No, no, I was just – she and her, uh, partner – they’re going to dinner this weekend, at – there’s this neighborhood, that, uh—” Eddie rubs at the back of his neck. “Okay, let me try this again.”

Christopher zips up his backpack. “Can I wait outside?” he asks Eddie, looking amused.

Eddie turns his gaze on him, and Buck thinks it’s a little – glare-y. “No, Christopher, you can wait by the door.”

Chris sighs dramatically. “Fine,” he reaches around Buck’s waist in a hug, one that Buck immediately returns. “Good luck with him.”

Before Buck can ask what that means, Christopher’s making his way over to the entrance, and Buck’s left with Eddie Diaz in all his attractive, impressive glory.

“I’m not – I would really appreciate it if you didn’t punch me in the face for asking this,” Eddie says, and Buck feels a little affronted.

“I would never—”

“Yeah,” Eddie snorts. “I know. I know, you would – you’re probably going to – even if—” Eddie sighs irritably and rubs at the bridge of his nose. “You are – infuriatingly kind, is what I’m getting at. And you – my kid loves you, and you have these fucking dimples—”

Buck’s eyebrows shoot upwards.

“—and I feel like if you were to punch anyone, it wouldn’t be for what I’m about to ask you, so—” he clears his throat. “Buck. My friend Hen and her girlfriend Karen asked if I wanted to join them for a date night on Saturday. The only catch is, of course, I, uh, don’t have a date.”

Buck blinks at Eddie, then realizes he’s waiting for a response.

“Oh,” Buck pauses. “That’s…a bummer?”

That sounded genuine, right? Eddie totally buys that Buck thinks it’s a bummer he’s not dating anyone?

Eddie’s chuckle is shaky. “Yeah,” he licks his lips, and Buck pretends he doesn’t follow the motion. “You’re – I was wondering if you would like to. Come with me.”

Buck takes a second. “In lieu of a date?”

Eddie blinks at him. “No,” he replies slowly. “As my date.”

Buck is silent. “That makes more sense.”

“Yes.”

“Than just – in lieu of one.”

“Definitely.”

“Because you’re – it’d be like, a double-date thing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Which you’re asking me on.”

“Correct.”

“And not…as a joke?”

“That’s—” Eddie frowns. “That would be incredibly cruel, why would anyone—”

“Yes,” Buck interrupts, before Eddie finds himself on a tangent. “I mean, yes, I would – that would be good. I would like that. I would – I do – own other clothes than, uh, jeans and my business t-shirt, so, that would be – I would enjoy that very much.”

Eddie’s lips have been turning upwards at the corners this entire time, until they’re set on a full smile. “Happy to see what you look like out of the outfit, then.”

Buck makes a sound that’s somewhere between an aborted laugh and the croak of someone taking their last breath.

“I’ll share the details with you on Friday, yeah?” Eddie asks, and Buck just nods and nods and nods, because he doesn’t think he has motor function over any part of his body anymore. “Okay,” he grins. “I’ll, uh – see you then, then.”

“In a while, crocodile,” Buck replies loudly, then realizes Eddie didn’t – it doesn’t work if he didn’t—

Eddie just laughs, face the same kind of bright Christopher’s contorts into when he’s filled with joy, and suddenly all Buck can think is, God, please, please, let me be so lucky.

Once Eddie and Christopher are out the door – Christopher waving goodbye happily from the exit – Buck can’t do anything but stare at the spot where the Diazes disappear for a good two or three minutes until a tiny Timothy’s walking up to the counter and says, “Mr. Buckley? Someone threw up on Tron again.”

Buck sighs.

“Yep.”

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 1/8

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NANAMI!! 🎂

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 1/8 WORD COUNT: 5,000+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | eventual smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | alcohol use | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | mentions of bullying, injury SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The final road before the bend that led to Gojo Manor stretched before Nanami, signaled by the consistent shield of the ancient cryptomeria trees that lined the road side. The forest was a momentary relief from the glare of the sun reflecting on the windshield of his silver Lexus. Such was the inconvenience of driving in the middle of a bright day when the sun was at its pedestal, making no room for shadows, no reprieve from the heat. He detested it.

A sigh escaped his lips. It’s supposed to be the beginning of autumn, he was thinking for the umpteenth time that day. He would really appreciate it if the Siberian winds would herald the actual beginning of the season. Yes, he thought. That would be nice.

The weather was, nevertheless, the least of his worries, and as he finally made the turn to the incongruously long gravel driveway of the estate, the real cause of his anxiety reared its head to the surface, presaged by the denser shadows of trees and the high gables of the colossal structure that housed the seat of the Gojo clan. It was supposed to be unfounded, his apprehension, or so he tried to convince himself since deciding to make an appearance earlier than expected. He couldn’t keep it at bay anymore when the emotion was mixed with hopeful anticipation. An odd combination, indeed.

He had no choice but to come, or rather, he wanted to come. It was for an important occasion anyway, Gojo Satoru and Utahime Iori’s wedding week specifically. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. If it was significant to two of the most important people in his life then the same applies where his views on the matter was concerned. After all, he greatly appreciated it that Gojo chose him as his best man, well one of them anyway. The man could never make up his mind if he tried so, breaking the traditional order of things, he has two “best men” – him and Geto Suguru.

Much to the groom-to-be’s disappointment, Nanami initially planned to show up a day before the ceremony itself. It was an added displeasure to the fact that Geto wasn’t going to show up until later that week as he was overseas for work. Gojo still probably was disappointed since Nanami did not exactly say anything about showing up earlier. But when he saw an opening in his jampacked schedule which was rare, he took the opportunity to take time off work. As annoying as Gojo was, he did not deserve to have two absent best men on his wedding week. Besides, a week away from the firm wouldn’t hurt, and he thought it was a good way to unwind before his big case.

If he would be able to unwind anyway.

The man had been sure of how he would manage through the occasion if he only spent a maximum of two days surrounded by crowds which were sure to be invited to the happy celebration. After all, nobody ever expected the young master of the Gojo Clan to ever be serious enough about anyone romantically, much less get married. Now that he had to stay for longer, giving chances to more occurrences of a variety of events, he wasn’t so certain. Anything could happen at Gojo Manor. Anything.

His optimism relied on that fact. Troublesome things usually happened with Gojo and Geto together, throw in the other members of the family and the other clans in the area, but Nanami was betting everything on this week.

A pair of cool, aqua eyes met his dark orbs the moment he stepped into the semi-outdoor ballroom of the opulent house. It was always like instinct, the way Nanami’s senses seem to heighten and hyper focus on one person, all else tuned out and seemingly nonexistent. Like always, without a hitch, he found you.

Alas. If he was questioning the reason for his hopefulness, that wasn’t the case anymore.

There you were, stood on the elevated corner by the refreshments table. You appeared like a celestial being walking among mortals, the halo of silvery white hair shimmering under the sunlight filtering through the room making you seem as if you did not exactly exist in the same realm as everyone else.

You were initially not paying attention to anyone despite your cousin, Miwa, chatting away beside you. But then, you leaned towards the latter when she whispered something, being equally conspiratorial by raising your champagne flute to your mouth. By the looks of it, prior to that, you have long tuned them out, Miwa and her friends, what with your poor attempt at pretending to pay attention. Nanami knew you have mastered the art of doing so since you were a child. It wasn't on purpose, or so you say. You were simply oblivious most of the time or you just didn't care. And you tended to only see and hear what you wanted.

At the moment, he was the object of your attention. He was sure of it, unable to help but to be much too aware of it, nerves pulled to their limits like piano strings conditioned to make sounds at the slightest of touch of its ebony and ivory keys. The feeling he had made you real, existing. He wasn’t imagining at all.

At times, he still could not believe that he watched you grow up to the person you are at present. The first time he knew of your existence was when Gojo invited him and some of their other friends to that very house in middle school. You were just as remarkable as a child as you are as a grown woman, much too quick-witted and eloquent at six even as your nanny carried you astride her hip, looking very much like a female infant version of Gojo. The bright blue eyes you shared with the male shone with the same intelligence he possessed, probably more, even without doing or saying anything. It just emanated from the two of you even if Gojo behaved like an utter idiot at times.

You shifted your line of vision to Miwa who was inconspicuously flailing her hands as a silent and agitated command for the other girls to disperse when she saw Nanami approaching. In a split second, you were alone. Miwa has always been unreasonably fidgety around him but he never quite understood why.

"I seemed to have driven away your company," he said to you the moment he was within earshot, watching you exchange your empty glass for another that's full.

You finally faced him, your scintillating eyes glittering under the wide skylights above. They were fathomless as they were luminous, shining with mischief. It was a familiar sight. From a state of tedium, they seem to come alive at the idea of tormenting him.

"I don't mind."

Of course not. The corners of his mouth curled inconspicuously at that similarity he shared with you. "I seem to always offend that cousin of yours."

"Not really. Frighten is more like it." Your eyes stayed on him even as you drank from your glass.

"Frightened?" Nanami repeated with inflection. He knew Miwa was awkward around him, but it was news that she was afraid of him. He didn’t have anything against her since unlike you, she was actually a sweet girl.

"Well, you have always been purposefully abrasive, you have taken the language of sarcasm to a whole new level and you are a grouch," you told him without batting an eyelash when everyone else was intimidated by him. You were probably the only one who could treat him that way. Not even your brother who is his best friend could do that and mean it.

His planned glance turned into a sidelong stare when he saw how you were eyeing him the same way. The difference was that you had a knowing look about you, evident in the way your eyes shone with diablerie and the contumelious curl at the corners of your luscious lips.

"Is that your opinion of me?" he asked, his expressions remaining stoic. Inside, it was a different story. You are the last being on earth he wanted to view him the way others usually did. He always thought you acted around him differently – defied him, messed with his head (and heart if he was being honest), and annoyed him – because you saw him differently, too. He liked that idea, the feeling it gives him. It was already enough that you are forbidden territory because you are his best friend's little sister. He didn't want you to turn out to be just like everyone else.

You grinned but didn't satisfy his query with a response. It was just like you to keep him guessing that way. You loved your games and especially loved to play them with him. He liked to play along at times, but it gets difficult to keep up with your antics. Your thought process was something he still has to figure out despite years of knowing you.

Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere by engaging you, he said, "Where's the groom-to-be?"

You pointed at the direction of the wood-framed glass doors leading to the indoor salon where your brother was speaking to one of the organizers for his wedding.

When Nanami followed your line of vision, he found the person in question. On a long table before Gojo were different arrangements of flowers, all in shades of pink, cream and white. Honestly, he saw no difference but Gojo was eyeing them as if choosing the right one will solve global warming.

"Being fussy about the flower arrangements more than his bride, obviously." Shaking his head, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey, pinstriped slacks before facing you again. "You think it's a good time to step in?"

At that, you smirked openly. "Wanna play a game, Nanamin?" you asked, appearing and sounding innocent as you addressed him with that nickname you knew he hated.

"Sure," he said without hesitation, knowing well the kind of person you are when you’re refused.

"No protestations this time, I see. You're learning."

He shot you a withering look, pushing his glasses up his nose. "That coming from a childish brat. I won't take offense." He immediately regretted saying that when he saw how your eyes glinted with something sinister. What it was, he didn't know, but he was sure about one thing: he just walked into another one of your traps willingly.

"Whoever gets a rise out of Satoru wins," you said, cocking your head to your brother's general direction.

That was easy, he thought. The fact that he showed up for the week-long preparations for the nuptials was enough to draw out a profound reaction from Gojo. Nanami was just that kind of best friend – absent. In his defense, he did make it to the important parts just in time, but this was something new to Gojo. For all he knew, he wasn't even expecting him to arrive until the wedding.

"Fine." He nodded at you, the action very minute. He was never big on actions. "We'll talk about the compensation later."

You returned the gesture with saccharine mordacity to it. "Alright." However, instead of moving towards the goal, you walked towards the other direction, signaling for him to go first.

It was an easy victory. The moment he walked into the salon, Gojo’s attention was immediately pulled away from the flower arrangements, his eyes going wide as saucers as he took in the fact that his best man arrived way ahead of time.

"Who are you and what have you done to Nanami Kento?" he asked aloud, making some of the guests for the day's luncheon turn towards them. He was evidently elated, his wife-to-be coming to join in, hugging Nanami while he clapped the man on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't miss this happy occasion for the world," Nanami told the couple, trying his best to convey his thoughts without sounding patronizing. That would be overdoing things even if it meant he would win against you. He wasn’t big on emotions and sentiments either.

All the while, his eyes furtively strayed to you, his competitor, watching you from way across the ballroom, sipping leisurely at your champagne as if you cannot be bothered. However, if Nanami thought he has seen the worst that you can do, he couldn't have been more mistaken in his life.

In the next moment, you entered the salon, appearing self-satisfied as you sauntered towards them, looking like a queen surveying your domain. "Well, well. If it isn't the big shot lawyer himself, coming to grace us with his presence!"

He clucked his tongue, reading through your ploy. You weren’t exactly one for theatrics most of the time, typically straightforward and brutally frank, but your games were as intricate as they were vexing. Nanami turned to face you just enough to conceal his expression from Gojo and Utahime, arching a brow at you in both challenge and question.

In a flash of black and white, you have taken your place in front of him barely a foot away. Your intention to further close the distance between the both of you only became evident when both your hands shot forward, taking possession of both sides of his face as you willed him to bend to your height, tiptoeing to make up for the remaining space. In a brief but seemingly drawn-out sequence of events, you staked your claim on his slightly parted mouth in a scorching lip lock.

Nanami was momentarily distracted by the faint taste of champagne, that detail registering in his brain before the sensation of your pliant lips pressed against his. The realization dawned too late making blood rush up to his head and for his ears to ring as he froze and burned simultaneously. His arms had unconsciously found their way around your slender waist, the feel of your warmth under your taffeta dress searing his palms. It was more for the purpose of steadying himself than you on your precariously high heels. The mere touch of your hand made him incoherent, but the feeling of your lips on his drove him to irrationality. The slim likeliness of the act happening between him and you made it feel as if he was going to pass out or wake up from a long, vivid dream.

He was there. He exists. You were there, real as can be. And you were kissing him.

Gasps erupted from all around, and before he knew it, you have pulled away, releasing your grip on him. As if he couldn’t dig his grave any deeper and punctuate his loss any further, Nanami leaned towards you, chasing your lips, attempting to continue your little interlude, uncaring of where you were or who was watching. After having a tiny taste of it, the absence of your touch affronted him like no other. If having you that close was what it meant to lose, then he will gladly have it.

Your laughter snapped him out of his trance. When his vision focused, he found you leaning away, your hand pressed against his chest to keep him at bay.

“Eager, aren’t we?” you said loud enough for him to hear, and for everyone’s benefit, you droned on, saying, “Been dying to do that since I saw you come in.”

Dazed, he just stared at you before him, the fact that he did not just lose to you within the premise of the game registering in his mind like a flash of lightning. Blood rushed to his head, heat permeating from the base of his neck to his scalp when his eyes strayed to Gojo who looked scandalized.

“You…what…” the other male endeavored to speak, but nothing coherent came out of his mouth, his blue eyes rapidly shifting between you and Nanami while his fiancée giggled beside him.

Indifferent to everything else and your sights only set on the object of your trickery, you tittered, savoring the hilarity of the situation. At least, to you, it was funny. “See you around, Nanamin,” you drawled and left with that confident gait, shaking your head in levity.

He wanted to join in on your conviviality, but the idea dissipated faster than water under intense heat when he saw his best friend eyeing him like he was about to castrate him. Nanami straightened up, rearranging his expression to that of quiet shock, laying it on thick by blinking cluelessly as if it was typical of him but Gojo was having none of it.

Ah, the joys of losing to you, he could just think despite his impending doom. Or maybe he was doomed to begin with. He couldn’t care less with the pleasant tingling of his lips and the memory of yours, the taste lingering on his tongue.

“You and me, in the game room. You’ve a lot of explaining to do.”

**

If Nanami would be asked how many times he lost to you, he wouldn’t have an answer. At least not for what is healthy for his pride and because he lost count. His only consolation was that he wasn’t the only one who had ever been under your thumb over the years you have had the upper hand. You’ve always had the advantage, and one way or the other, regardless of the odds of the games you played, be it tomfoolery or serious bets, you invariably have a way of turning them into your favor.

He could well say his chances of winning cases in court is higher compared to the fact that you always bested him in life. It frustrated him to no end.

“Wanna play a game?” Those were always the words which heralded a series of infuriating inconveniences that he, along with some other individuals, had to be subjected to ever since you acquired your penchant for mischief and seeming thirst to challenge if not victimize people.

Those words, paired with a ridiculous nickname of your choosing for each of your conquests gave one no choice but to engage. The way you say it was enough to rile even someone who just happened to be listening, as if you were surreptitiously patronizing the person of your choosing. The unreadable expression on your face when you initiate your games also makes one’s hackles rise. While Gojo had the same tendency to be condescending when he wanted to be, you were exponentially more menacing compared to him.

In your defense, you never did it to everyone. It was as if you have a rationale behind the selection of people you felt like messing with. Your criteria was not something that is known to anybody else. At first, it was just Gojo. Then Geto and Shoko Ieiri, another close friend of your brother, got a taste of it until finally, it was his turn. Anyone none the wiser would think your ‘affections’ were solely focused on Gojo’s friends, but apparently, it wasn’t the case.

There were three kinds of people where your games were concerned: people you didn’t give a damn about, those you liked to play with and those you engaged with but eventually stopped being a pain to.

Most people around you were the first type since you mostly didn’t give two fucks about them. For some reason, it had become a sort of status quo in the Gojo household to be included in your sphere but few were lucky enough to hold your attention long enough.

The third kind were people who seemed to have reached an understanding with you. Geto, Utahime and Shoko used to be casualties in your ploys, but after a game or two, they’ve eventually ‘graduated,’ and you treated them like equals. Apart from that, there seems to be an exceptional case when you did not have to inflict yourself on the person just like in the case of your closest friend, Itadori Yuuji. That kid was special somehow, and Nanami thought perhaps he was, too, until you got started with him.

As for him and Gojo, they were still people you liked to torment. His theory was that you were looking for something from the people you play with. If you find it, you stop. It wasn’t a theory anymore that it was a sort of defense mechanism if he deduced right, judging from the situations which led to the change in your behavior.

It all started when you came home from boarding school overseas after finishing your freshman year in high school. Gojo had invited them over as per usual for the summer events being held at their estate but suddenly started talking about his concerns over you.

“She’s distant,” he said with a sigh when asked about it. Apparently, your parents were upset over you decision not to attend the school of their choice anymore and threatened to drop out and run away if they insisted further. “And there seems to be something wrong with her. She seems different somehow. Very snappy and always in a foul mood. She rarely leaves her room, and when we try to help, she gets angrier.”

“She’s in that phase, huh?” Shoko mused. “Want me to talk to her?”

Gojo insisted to do it, being all dramatic and saying he had been a lousy brother. But that’s when you started being the way you were. You weren’t an angry teen anymore, just someone who indulged yourself by toying with others without regard to whose expense and to what extent. Most of them were harmless, but you very nearly endangered two of your friends, too.

Nanami dug his own grave when he purposefully tried to have a go at you, pointing out your mistakes in an attempt to intervene at that time. You used to be rather passive where he was concerned, polite even, but then everything changed that night.

He was somehow glad that you decided to approach him when you needed help when you usually gravitated towards Geto, surprised to see you at his doorstep past midnight and looking ashen.

First, you dared this new girl, Kugisaki Nobara, to sneak into the abandoned factory at night, and the girl ended up hurting yourself. You looked so regretful and distraught while explaining what happened on the ride to the factory, and for the first time, he realized that you only ever challenged people you held a certain degree of fondness for. Everything ended well without anybody else knowing of your mishaps but him, and in a twist of fate, she even became your first real friend.

And then, you started yet another game with Fushiguro Megumi, effectively getting him kicked out his father’s clan. You weren’t exactly aware about the deeper reason as to why his family wanted him to be close to you, only that you found displeasure in it because he was a groom candidate. It was common among old clans like yours, and when you dared him to tell your parents he had no intention of marrying you, your brother had to intervene and take the boy in, ending up registered under Gojo Clan instead. While his family was trash in all sense of the word, you were still at fault since you ruined his only chance at being accepted by the clan head. Still, he, too, became your friend, and more than that, an adopted brother.

“Is this some attention-seeking behavior you’ve learned somewhere?” Nanami asked you that time.

“I get attention without as much as lifting a finger being who I am.” You snorted. “I can’t expect everything to be positive though.”

He was taken aback by your statement then. Still, he tested his theory. You were different after all. While some people admired you for your genius and your otherworldly looks, there will always be those who hated you for it. It was like a repeat of Gojo, except that he had them, his friends. Whom did you have?

“Are you being bullied at school?”

At that, your pupils constricted, your bright eyes turning icy as you regarded him. You were quiet for a moment as you stared, not exactly enraged but your brows furrowed together. Nanami could see the cogs in your brain moving through your eyes when you slowly grinned and said those four words: “Wanna play a game?”

He’s been losing to you ever since, not really knowing what you want and what set you off, hell-bent on making him miserable at every opportunity you could take.

It wasn’t all different at present.

The moment he heard the click of the doorknob and your scent – a mix of crisp autumn air, vanilla and a hint of something that reminded him of happiness – registered in his brain, he froze on his chair in the study where he was currently taking notes on his upcoming case. It was a trade-off for the length of time he would be gone from the law firm he worked at. His grip on his pen tightened that he thought he would break it to splinters when he saw you from his periphery, still looking like a goddess, fresh and gorgeous despite the day's affairs.

You were so painfully beautiful that concentrating on the file before him was proving to be difficult. Everything else didn't make sense to him whenever you were in the same room as he is. It didn't help that you kissed him in front of everyone just a few hours ago. He couldn't forget the feeling no matter how many times he convinced himself that it was just you playing your games; that it was nothing. He wished it was otherwise, not that it helped in his cause a bit.

"What on earth was that about?" Gojo demanded, pulling him aside to the game room like a child who did something naughty. In fairness to him, he was still fond enough of Nanami to offer him a drink but, indeed, he thought, what on earth was that about?

He shrugged. "Have you met your sister? Surely, you know just what crazy antics she has up her sleeves. She gets her annoying side from you anyway."

The answer seemed to have placated the male for the time being but if you were going to continue with your mischief, Nanami has no way of telling where things can go. And judging by your confident gait and the complacent grin swathed on your countenance, you were up to no good again.

He carded his fingers through his blond locks, leaning back on the chair as he furtively watched you.

"Do you need anything?" he asked calmly despite himself.

"Hmm. I won," you murmured, rounding the heavy oak desk before vaulting yourself up on it to sit just beside his papers, your eyes zeroing in on the files.

He shot you an accusing glare. "What was that about?"

You arched a brow at him, wrenching your gaze from the documents with a frown, the way your eyes widened in mock innocence making him want to box your ears. "What was what about, Nanamin?” The preposterous nickname rolled off your tongue tauntingly. “I thought you hated questions that can be openly interpreted."

"Why did you kiss me?" he snapped.

"Well..." You openly mocked him with a smile. "Could there be any other reason apart from our bet?"

"Of all the things you could think of, you went for something that would give your brother a heart attack not to mention that it put me in hot waters."

“Isn’t that the objective of our little bet?”

He sighed. "This is the last time I'm indulging you."

"Eh? You said that the last time we saw each other, too." You feigned exasperation. "Doesn't change the fact that you lost again though."

"What do you want?" He finally sat up straight, stacking the documents on the table. "Why are you sitting there anyway?"

"You're right." You jumped off the desk and much to his confusion, instead of taking one of the seats at the other side of the table, you swatted his arm from the papers and sat on his lap like he was an easy chair.

"What –"

You turned to him then, your faces just inches from one another. "Is this better?" you asked as if you saw nothing wrong with your iffy position.

Nanami didn't know what to do with, his arms remaining still on his sides while he just stared at you as if you grew two heads. "Is this another one of your games?"

You leaned closer to him, your bright eyes drowning him. "You tell me." You laughed then. "I wasn't the one who couldn't get enough of this afternoon's kiss."

He shrugged before he could run away with his thoughts. You were right. He did want to kiss you more, but it wasn't as if he could.

Just then, you reached over and removed the glasses that were always perched over his nose then wore it yourself. "What are you doing?"

"You look better without them," you commented.

"I need them for reading." He rolled his eyes at you. "Get off, Y/N."

"Hmm? Is that really what you want?" you taunted, your hand having found purchase at the back of his head, fingers toying with his soft hair.

He placed a hand on your thigh, slowly climbing up to your hip, reveling in the feel of your warmth under his touch. He looked at you seriously then and leaned away, surprised when you frowned momentarily. It was so fleeting, he didn’t know whether he was imagining it when he saw disappointment on your face. That was a first.

"Y/N, Just tell me what you want. You won the bet after all."

Shrugging, you stood up as if you weren’t just perched on his lap. "Go figure," you quipped, sounding pissed off. "Think of something I would actually want. It's up to you."

“Another game?”

“Think of it as you want.”

"What?"

You slammed the door close in your wake before he could get an answer, once again leaving him there puzzled at your reaction and exasperated with himself.

-end of Part 1-

First of all, Happy Cake Day to the love of my life, Nanamin!

I made him a lawyer here cause that's freakin' hot!!!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Everyone's aged up here as well, including the younger characters which will be included in the story.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210703]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[lassieposting]

d'you think Erskine was ever jealous of Skug?

God, yes.

Honestly, I think jealousy has just always been a massive part of Erskine's personality, like. His entire life is an exercise in what an inferiority complex can do to a person.

With the backgrounds I've given them, Skug and Saracen are both Old Money Aristocrats. Their families have been landed/titled/insanely wealthy for generations upon generations. They're the 16th century equivalent of the 1%.

Erskine, on the other hand, is part of the nouveau riche that emerged as industry started to become a thing. His father was born in the gutter, grew up a street rat, and became a self-made man over several mortal lifetimes thanks mostly to being a) morally unscrupulous in his financial dealings and b) in the right place at the right time. So while Erskine's family is also insanely wealthy by the time he's born, he doesn't have that history. He isn't part of a family whose crest everyone knows. His father married the younger daughter of a minor noble family, so they're aristocrats a) by marriage and b) by the skin of their teeth.

In the 1600s, the old money aristocrats didn't like the new money aristocrats, in general. Erskine's family would've been seen as overambitious social climbers, white trash pretending to be upper class. So Erskine, from the very start, is having to try very hard to break into a world that Skug and Saracen have lived in from birth. He would've had a lot of doors closed in his face and missed out on a lot of opportunities purely by dint of having a father who aspired to better than he was born with.

And this is a recurring thing as he grows up. He goes to the same fancy school Saracen went to (several hundred years earlier), but he gets picked on by the old money boys because they stick together, and he's the outsider. He always has to work twice as hard to prove himself, to prove that he's just as clever, just as capable, just as worthwhile. He has the same interests as the other boys his age, and he's pretty, so he grows into a popular, handsome young man who likes hunting and horses and gambling and frittering money away on whatever or whoever catches his fancy, and on the surface he's practically indistinguishable from the Saracens and Skugs of the world, but on the inside he's still got that little voice whispering they think they're better than you and no matter what he does, he can't get it to be quiet.

And then he joins the army the way most young aristocrats did in those days, by purchasing the commission he wanted, and it looks like that's going to go really well for him, because suddenly he's surrounded by the enlisted rabble, and they don't know the difference between him and any other officer. He's a little lordling in their eyes, and that's validating, because he's so much more like the boys who bullied him at school than he is like these unwashed, uneducated people.

But he makes friends with Hopeless, and at some point he gets introduced to Hopeless' friends, and then he's drafted into a different squad and suddenly his new CO is Skulduggery Pleasant, hero of the Battle of Black Rock, the youngest captain in the forces at that time and promoted via field commission. Where Erskine bought his way in, Skug signed up as a bog-standard soldier (because while he could afford officership, Ghastly couldn't, and they signed up together), and got promoted on merit. So now Erskine's got a massive shadow to get out from under, and isn't that just his luck?

And, he likes Skulduggery. He does. He's a fantastic leader and he doesn't give a rat's ass about Erskine's background and Erskine learns a lot from him. But he's also completely unaware of just how spoiled and privileged he is, and it's infuriating. Skug will bitch and complain about having to go to balls and galas and fancy high-class dinners, and snipe at his own class for the backhanded way they do things, and all Erskine's ever wanted is to fit in with those people the way Skug can. Skug has every opportunity Erskine's ever longed for in his entire life. He could've married a great lady and become Lord Somethingorother and never had to sweat a drop for any of it. And instead he...abandoned his house and family, took up with a tailor's family instead and then married a working class girl? No matter how much Erskine likes Skug as a person, he's appalled by his life choices. All Erskine's dreams on a plate, and Skug spat on them.

Skug also notices leadership potential in Erskine and lowkey grooms him for command the way Corrival did with him, so after a century or so there is. Tension. They butt heads A Lot over how the Dead Men operate, the command structure, who's got the better plan. Erskine very badly wants to make a name for himself, but it's very difficult to do that when you're overshadowed by an established war hero at every turn.

Ultimately though, he was never gonna be Skug. He was a perfectly good soldier, but his primary talent wasn't in punching people and leading a cavalry charge, it was schmoozing and persuasion and being charming. He would've made a fantastic politician if he hadn't fallen in with the Children of the Spider. But they looked at him the way people usually looked at Skug, like he's their golden boy, their guiding light, their spokesman, and he is deeply vulnerable to the sort of gratification that gave him. Adding in that they saved his life and nursed him back to health while the Sanctuary essentially abandoned him and then replaced him, it's understandable why he changed sides. But he could've made his name as an Elder if he hadn't thrown his lot in with the creepy spider people.

tldr; yes he was jealous, but of an entire class of people, not just skug

[girlysword]

How to Write a Villain x Heroine Ship

I will be comparing Shadow and Bone and Agents of SHIELD because the very shallow similarity of the main heroes being young biracial Asian women connects them in my head.

1) How they are introduced: Ward at first appears to be a straight-laced hero with some aggressive tendencies that most shows would either have him unlearn or entirely ignore. Which is what made his betrayal so shocking and fantastic and devastating! Honestly a lot of the StandWithWard read like denial (at first, until it evolved into “are we even watching the same show anymore?”) rather than true villain/anti-hero stanning. The Darkling is introduced as a mysterious authority figure who wears all black. If he was an unambiguous hero that would have been the twist.

2) The heroine’s type: Based on her major canon relationships, Skye/Daisy’s type is 100% a straight-laced good guy. Yeah there was Miles, who she dropped like a hot potato when she found out he betrayed his white hat hacker code. Lincoln also had a dark past, but he had done a lot of work to redeem himself before they ever met. Daisy is more than willing to encourage someone to continue working on themselves, but she has no patience for kick-starting a redemption arc. We even see that in her friendships and not just her romantic relationships. Alina’s type is - Mal. The Darkling is the first time she opens herself up to anything besides Mal, and it may have all been an act, but hey, it was an act that worked. I would say Alina’s thing is that she needs to be needed. She defended Mal from bullies when they were children and the Darkling positions her as hope, not just for the country but for him personally.

3) The reason that they are evil: Both Ward and the Darkling have believable reasons for being on a dark path. Ward bounced from one abuser to another and the Darkling was consumed by the need to protect his people from discrimination. The difference was their opportunities to turn from that path. Ward spent an extended period with a group of people who genuinely took care each other and he didn’t say to himself, “You know what? My surrogate father figure is a butt-face. Maybe there is another way. Maybe this much nicer surrogate father figure can help me.” The Darkling on the other hand is 1) hundreds of years old so unlikely to change his ways regardless and 2) the people trying to dissuade him from his plans are idealistic teenagers who don’t understand the full complexities of the situation and his mother who a) doesn’t seem like she cares about non-Grishas any more than her son, she just understands that attacking them will fuel Grisha prejudice, and b) accepts the deaths of mortal Grishas as a fact of life (honestly positioning the Darkling as more idealistic than his mother was a fantastic move).

4) Audience Reaction: Brett Dalton doesn’t play Ward with nearly as much conviction as Ben Barnes plays the Darkling. That is not a knock on Brett’s acting at all, he gave a stellar performance. The character of Grant Ward lacks conviction. He doesn’t really have any motivations once his surrogate father figure dies and stops telling him what to do besides, “maybe this will get Skye to like me again?” He just has all this bottled up anger from years of abuse, so he just decides, “Fine! I was taught how to murder, so by golly am I gonna murder! Also, I will gather a team of traumatized murderers and they will be my friends! In no way am I actually just continuing the cycle of abuse!” If there is the one thing the Darkling has, it is conviction. He may be conflicted by his feelings for Alina, but he knows exactly who he is and why he does what he does. That conviction creates a presence which is easy to get swept up in, forget your irl beliefs, and play pretend in the aesthetics. With Ward you want to spray him with water and say, “Stop making the absolute worst possible decisions.”

[bananaofswifts]

Taylor Swift review, Fearless (Taylor’s Version) – Wisely not trying to rewrite history

Swift’s re-recorded versions of her 2008 album is a timely reminder of some of the best pop songs committed to record

4/5 STARTS

By Alexandra Pollard

Taylor Swift has made a point, not a new album.

In order to wrestle it from the clutches of Scooter Braun, the singer-songwriter has re-recorded, word for word and note for note, 2008's Fearless.

It is a complicated backstory, but the crux of it is this: when she was 15, Swift signed a 13-year deal with record label Big Machine that gave them ownership over all her future master recordings. When she was 28 and one of the biggest pop stars on the planet, she signed a new deal with a different label, and Big Machine sold those rights to Scooter Braun, a man she claimed had bullied her for years.

Since 2019, Braun has had ownership of and control over Swift’s first six albums. “This is what happens when you sign a deal at 15 to someone for whom the term ‘loyalty’ is clearly just a contractual concept,” she wrote in a lengthy Instagram post at the time. “And when that man says ‘Music has value’, he means its value is beholden to men who had no part in creating it.” And so Swift announced her intention to re-record every single song that Braun now owned.

She has begun with her second album, Fearless. Pointedly named Fearless (Taylor’s Version), this is not a new take, remix or reimagining. Tracks such as the Romeo and Juliet-inspired country ballad “Love Story” and the lilting pop song “You Belong With Me” remain almost exactly the same, each banjo note, guitar chord and harmony painstakingly reconstructed. I had wondered if she might use the opportunity to tweak things here and there – “You Belong With Me” aims very un-2021 barbs at a love interest’s current girlfriend – but wisely, she has not tried to rewrite history.

This is the perfect moment for Fearless (Taylor’s Version): there’s no time like a pandemic to be given a dose of nostalgia, and it’s nice to have a refresher of some of the best pop songs committed to record. Even the six “from the vault” tracks that didn’t make the cut first time round feel oddly comforting. “We Were Happy”, with its strings, wistful guitar and lush harmonies (courtesy of Keith Urban), is just lovely. “Mr Perfectly Fine”, meanwhile, slots perfectly into the late-Noughties country pop vibe, helped along by the fact it was supposedly written about a months-long relationship with Joe Jonas (on Instagram, his now-wife Sophie Turner described the song as “not NOT a bop”). These new tracks allow Swift to unleash, for old time’s sake, that “mortally wronged-in-love” persona she wore so well but has quietly retired. She’s recruited shiny young popstars Olivia Rodrigo and Conan Grey in the album’s marketing campaign – a canny reminder that she is the godmother of Melodramatic Teenage Feelings.

When she was 57, Joni Mitchell re-recorded “Both Sides Now”, a song she wrote at 24. No longer sung in dulcet tones but in a husky rasp brought on by a lifetime of cigarettes, lines like “I’ve looked at life from both sides now/ From win and lose and still somehow/ It's life’s illusions I recall/ I really don't know life at all” took on a newfound poignancy. It would be a stretch to say the same has happened here, because Swift’s voice has remained almost exactly the same, but there is certainly an added layer to songs like “Fifteen”. “Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now,” she mused back then, at 18, and again now, at 31. “Back then, I swore I was gonna marry him someday/ But I realised some bigger dreams of mine.”

Only occasionally has something been lost in the re-recording process. Perhaps it’s because she has grown weary of it after thousands of renditions, but “Love Story” somehow lacks the wide-eyed spark of the original. If there's a discernible difference, it’s that the build of the middle eight is a little less steep and a little less triumphant. But I’m splitting hairs. Swift has done what she set out to do.

There is a long history of women being locked into bad record deals that come to feel more like prison sentences: TLC; Kesha; Megan Thee Stallion; Toni Braxton; Kelly Clarkson. Maybe Swift is doing this for them, too. Bring on the next five.