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presumenothing · 3 years ago

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we’re doing it to ourselves (or so the saying goes)

(AO3)

Jiang Cheng swears up a storm and a half when he shoves open the investigation room door the next morning to find someone already there.

The red ribbon hanging long down Wei Wuxian’s back blends in so seamlessly with the red thread strung all over the murderboard that it takes slamming his hand against the wall switch to shatter the sudden imagination of his brother’s photo up there with the rest of the clues, just another person they’d failed to save from this case.

Wei Wuxian gives a hiss of half-startled annoyance, blinking from the abrupt brightness, but it frankly serves him right for standing in the dark like a burglar with only the corridor emergency lights filtering in. Had he even been able to see anything? Even demonic cultivation doesn’t give you night vision, last he checked. “Good damn morning to you too, Jiang Cheng.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you got in here,” he replies, because at least half of what he knows about breaking into places he’d learned after Wei Wuxian taught himself how to one boring rainy day in high school. “Tell me all this has nothing to do with you.”

He doesn’t specify what this is, because there’s no need to. Wei Wuxian hasn’t moved from his frozen stance in front of the board of clues, crimson lines running between the serial murders like a bloody taunt, a web Jiang Cheng has stared at long enough over the past week that the afterimage feels burned into his eyelids.

There’s nothing of Wei Wuxian’s usual brash overconfidence in the answering shake of his head. “No. I meant it when I said I’d never go vigilante again, Jiang Cheng. And I haven’t. I’ll swear it again on anything you ask.”

In a different time, Wei Wuxian would already have sworn up and down that the heavens should strike him down right then if he’d lied, but maybe that’s exactly the problem – he had already been struck down once, in almost every way that mattered, and worst of all is how it makes Jiang Cheng more inclined to believe him now.

It’s still not quite enough, though. “Swear it on Jin Ling’s life.”

He doesn’t need to see Wei Wuxian’s expression to know he’s not happy about that. Which doesn’t matter, because neither of them are; the space Jin Ling occupies among them has been almost sacred especially after they’d nearly lost Yanli-jie, but it’s also exactly why Jiang Cheng is asking him to swear on this. He can’t accept anything less.

Wei Wuxian has to know that, too, because he doesn’t argue, only says, “I swear on Jin Ling’s life that I don’t have any direct involvement with this case.”

Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow and pointedly does not look relieved. “‘Direct’?”

“Duh.” Wei Wuxian gestures, wide and too-careless, at the grotesque web on the wall. “You’ve got a copycat killer, and a surprisingly thorough one at that. I’d be surprised if the original Yiling Patriarch isn’t tied to this somehow.”

“Careful, they might not be able to see your ego from space,” Jiang Cheng bites right back, even though he’s been thinking the same for probably about as long as Lan Wangji has, for all that they hadn’t acknowledged it aloud until the day before yesterday. “How the hell did you even find out about this?”

“Wen Qing did most of the autopsies, didn’t she?” Wei Wuxian answers, pretty much as he’d been expecting. “And before you think about going to yell at her, she didn’t actually reveal any case details to me, just that you and Lan Zhan were investigating something that I might be interested in. Also that she might snap and add one or both of you to the body count if she has to mediate even one more argument between you two.”

How Wei Wuxian’s presence could possibly do anything except exacerbate that, Jiang Cheng has no idea, but it’s not like he can afford to alienate the best medical examiner they have across all the districts. (And he doesn’t want to, either; Wen Qing’s clear expertise had single-handedly silenced all of the brass who’d had issues with hiring a Wen, but there’s never any telling what might get them started up again.)

Still. “I wouldn’t call that mediating,” Jiang Cheng mutters.

Wei Wuxian laughs, because he still doesn’t have even half an ounce of self-preservation, even against someone who could and would immobilise people with just three well-placed needles. “Speaking of which, how much longer are you gonna lurk there, Lan Zhan? I thought the Gusu bureau had a rule against eavesdropping and all.”

Jiang Cheng gets a crick in his neck from how fast he turns, and sure enough – there’s Lan Wangji stepping out of shadows that had hidden him far too well for someone in so much white. (Even after having no choice but to work this case together with him Jiang Cheng still has absolutely no fucking idea how Lan Wangji keeps his clothes spotless even at crime scenes; he’s starting to suspect it’s some kind of cultivation-related trick designed specifically for this purpose.)

“Eavesdropping would require neither of you to be aware of my presence,” he says, like that isn’t just some bit of pedantry, and inclines his head. “Wei Ying. Jiang Wanyin.”

And that’s definitely intentional, putting his name last like Jiang Cheng cares what order Lan Wangji addresses people in. Which he really, really doesn’t, especially not before inhaling at least half the thermos of coffee that always resides in his backpack in avoidance of the acidic slop from the pantry machine.

Wei Wuxian smiles at Lan Wangji, because of course he does, but it’s strangely gratifying to note that he hasn’t put any effort in making it look convincing at all. “Well, Lan Zhan – do I need to swear my innocence in this case to you too?”

“Unnecessary. I believe you,” Lan Wangji says, bearing regal like he’s some monarch issuing a decree, and Jiang Cheng snorts. How easy for him to say that when Wei Wuxian hadn’t cost his bureau and family almost everything they’d been.

It doesn’t make the back of his throat taste any less bitter when Wei Wuxian’s expression warms a little at that, but at this point Jiang Cheng doesn’t think anything ever will. “Enough chitchat,” he snaps. “The paperwork?”

Lan Wangji retrieves a folder from his briefcase and slides it over to the centre of the table wordlessly, while Jiang Cheng crosses his arms and scowls at Wei Wuxian until it sinks through his stupidly thick skull that the paperwork is for him.

The answering groan, at least, is entirely sincere. “What the hell is that for? You know I hate paperwork, Jiang Cheng, I didn’t quit over it but I very well could have.”

Yes, he’s very aware of that, seeing as their weekly paperwork grudge-match marathons from before everything had gone to hell had been held in his office. “Just read and sign the damn thing, Wei Wuxian, it’s the only bloody reason I haven’t already arrested you for breaking into bureau offices ten minutes ago.”

And that has to be enough for Wei Wuxian to already know, because bureau policy hasn’t changed that much in the years since his defection except to get more annoyingly onerous, but still he looks surprised at the contents of the contract. “A civilian consultant?”

“You have a skillset that could be invaluable to resolving this case. It would be highly remiss not to bring you on board.” Lan Wangji still looks perfectly neutral, as far as Jiang Cheng can tell, but that’s more sarcasm-free words in a row than he’s ever heard from him since the start of this investigation. Possibly since their first acquaintance with each other.

“I wouldn’t call ‘being the prime suspect’ a skillset, exactly,” Wei Wuxian mutters, which is something Jiang Cheng can definitely agree with at least. Though the only reason this is possible at all is because there’d never been an official conviction in the original Yiling case, for a whole chaos of reasons including the public uproar in support of whoever had taken down Wen Ruohan and his cronies for good, and because they already had reasonable evidence to suggest Wei Wuxian’s non-involvement in this spate of murders.

The non-suspect in question is still flicking his way through the clauses of the contract, which Jiang Cheng would feel insulted by except he’d also gone through each and every one just as closely, taken his concerns to Yanli-jie who’d taken them to Jin Zixuan until they could be sure this arrangement wouldn’t jeopardise Wei Wuxian in any way.

He reaches the last page, and from the skip of his gaze Jiang Cheng knows instinctively what Wei Wuxian has to be looking at – the grid of signatures starting with his own and Lan Wangji’s as primary investigators of the case, dated clearly to two days before this conversation had even occurred, followed by Lan Xichen’s confirmation both as Lan Wangji’s superior and because Jiang Cheng can’t very well second his own recommendation even as the Yunmeng bureau chief, and finally a space for Wei Wuxian’s chickenscratch initials.

(It’s frankly mystifying, why someone who can draw talismans that flow like the finest art has never bothered with a more elegant signature, but it’s not a mystery Jiang Cheng cares to solve. Better that than the unmistakable signatures the Yiling Patriarch had left at his scenes, at any rate; even he has had nightmares about that.)

Jiang Cheng tosses him a pen, anything to break the sudden silence, and Wei Wuxian catches it without looking but of course doesn’t get right to signing, because that would be sensible. “What is this for, then? There are easier ways to keep an eye on me. Cheaper, too.”

“The forensic evidence is scant, and the culprit has done something to keep the victims’ souls beyond my ability to communicate with,” Lan Wangji answers without further prompting, which is probably more information than they should be giving out to a not-yet-contracted civilian but Jiang Cheng’s not the one with a stick up his ass about protocol in this room and anyway Wei Wuxian had already broken in here. “An alternative method might help.”

“Last I checked, no one likes the alternative when it means resurrecting th– ah,” Wei Wuxian cuts himself off with a flick of his gaze between them, and has the gall to look amused. “So the old coots are desperate enough by now that anything goes?”

“Not anything,” Jiang Cheng grates out, just to be clear. Wei Wuxian hadn’t been wrong; the investigation methods favoured by each bureau differ even just among the four major ones, but the dislike of the way Wei Wuxian had done things since somehow escaping being taken hostage by Wen Chao had been almost universal.

(There’d been a brief period when it seemed like things might work out after all, when Wei Wuxian had demonstrated how undeniably efficient demonic cultivation could be in comparison to their regular methods – even the Gusu musical techniques couldn’t beat speaking to the victim in the flesh, as it were. But then everything had gone to hell in a massive speeding handbasket and Wei Wuxian had been most of the one who’d sent it there.

Possibly Jiang Cheng is being monumentally idiotic in not assuming this time will turn out exactly the same way, but annoyingly enough Wei Wuxian is also correct in that they need this case solved, or everything might just go to chaos anyway.)

“I’m pretty much the definition of anything, I think,” Wei Wuxian retorts, which Jiang Cheng ignores like the obvious nonsense it is. “Don’t blame me if you lot regret this.”

“Pretty sure it’s already too late for that,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, swiping the thermos out from where he’d set his backpack down.

Lan Wangji can deal with filing that paperwork, if he’s just going to stand there in stoic satisfaction. Jiang Cheng needs his damn coffee.

#mdzs #mdzs fic #fanfiction #mine #long post #once again i blatantly plagiarise richard siken for a fic title #yes this was supposed to be the sort-of-pushing daisies au but things happened #/elaborate and unbothered shrug emoji

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overthinkinglotr · 4 years ago

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Can I just ask what...is the contest for the Boorman adaptation? I mean... This is not a normal movie script, right?

YAY OBSCURE LOTR ADAPTATIONS TALK TIME!!! (We’re talking about the context of John Boorman’s LOTR, the one where Frodo has sex with Galadriel)

OK SO

Yes, John Boorman’s screenplay is so completely baffling and incoherent that it seems like it can’t possibly be real. I really don’t know for sure if the draft that’s floating around the internet is really the Real Thing. However-- the weirdest aspects of that screenplay seem to be corroborated by other sources?

Some sources say the screenplay exists in physical form at Marquette University, but idk if that’s the version that’s online. Maybe it is!

And I’ve come across multiple sources discussing the scene where Gimli gets beaten up and buried alive to “unlock his magic ancestral memories,” the infamous poorly written Frodo/Galadriel sex scene, etc.

But again! I personally don’t know how reliable all these sources are. A lot of the old Reliable Sources discussing the screenplay have kinda just Vanished off the internet, and finding Definitive Confirmation would take some digging. That someone else can do, because I’m not good at this. :P

But I’ll throw information at you and you can decide what’s real--

Here’s what I DO know for certain is true:

In the 1970s, John Boorman approached United Artists with a pitch for a movie based on Arthurian legends (which would later become the film Excalibur.) UA turned him down, thinking Arthurian legends weren’t marketable enough.

They instead commissioned him to write a screenplay for a live-action film adaptation of Lord of the Rings.They were kinda like “Lord of the Rings, Arthurian legends....same thing, they both have a wizard and a medieval sword guy in it. But Lotr is popular right now, so well have this guy write a tolkien thing. Someone who likes arthur legends will also be good at writing lord of the rings, because they’re basically the same.”

(But like...they’re not, obviously. King Arthur legends are a bunch of folklore that doesn’t have one single ‘plot.” Writing a King Arthur film means using a few characters and some famous imagery and throwing them in a medieval setting to vibe together, creating the film’s plot by cherry-picking the Arthur stories you like most and throwing them together in a blender. But Lord of the Rings isn’t like that! It isn’t a collection of folkloric stories with no clear plot! Lord of the Rings is ultimately a single story with a single coherent plot! Someone who wants to adapt their own take on something as plotless as folklore might really Struggle to adapt a plot-heavy book like LOTR!)

So anyway, John Boorman wrote this screenplay for them.

But John Boorman’s movie was never made.

Why was it never made?

Here’s where we get into some SUPER FUN “unreliable narrator” territory!!!!

John Boorman’s claim:

According to John Boorman in his biography, the film was never made because UA was tight on money and the special effects required were simply too expensive for the 1970s.

Boorman really did try very hard to make his screenplay good! According to Boorman, he and his writing partner Rospo Pallenberg “covered all the walls of a room with a breakdown of all the scenes in all three volumes,” “drew a map of middle earth,” “wrote detailed analyses of all the characters,” and spent several weeks devising a structure for the film. Then they wrote the script together-- Boorman wrote one scene, Pallenberg the next.

But alas, it was too expensive to film in live-action. The technology just wasn’t there yet.

So the studio was forced to have the film made by an animator, Ralph Bakshi.

Boorman says that Tolkien wrote a letter to him saying that he approved of his screenplay (which Tolkien hadn’t read) solely because it was going to be a live-action movie. Tolkien hated animation. Boorman says that Tolkien’s death “spared him” the horrible pain of seeing his story adapted into animation. According to Boorman the problem with the Bakshi film (which he never saw) was that it was animated, and therefore inherently bad. Unlike Boorman’s script, which was an amazing work of art that would’ve been a wonderful live-action (and therefore inherently superior) movie!!! If only it was made! Boorman mentions that the working conditions on the Bakshi film were horrible (because they were) and laments that budget constraints meant the studio was forced to sell the movie to a low-down NO GOOD “ANIMATOR!” >:((((

BUT

Ralph Bakshi, obviously, tells a very different story!

Ralph Bakshi’s Claim:

According to Bakshi, John Boorman’s screenplay was so UTTERLY incoherent that it was unusable. UA gave Bakshi the rights to make a film because they had paid a million dollars for a trash script, and now they were dealing with the Sunk Cost Fallacy(tm). Bakshi was allowed to make his film because UA had wasted so much money on Boorman that they were desperate for ANYONE to use the Lord of the Rings IP in a way that wasn’t completely incoherent and could make sOME money:

“I thought, ‘Wait a minute, why don’t I go make the film?’ recalls Bakshi. “So I call up Mike Medavoy and I go to United Artists, which in those days were on the same lot as MGM. In the main building on one side of the building was MGM — which Dan Melnick ran in those days — and on the other side was Mike Medavoy at UA. I went to see Mike in his office and he says,

“Look, I’ve got this (John Boorman) script and I don’t understand it. I never read the book. We don’t want to make the picture. What do you want to do?’ I said, ‘I want to animate it. Three pictures.’

He said, ‘We don’t want the picture. What we want is our three million dollars back for the screenplay that we paid Boorman. So I’ll give you the rights, and if you can get our money back you can make the picture any way you want.’ True story.”

So it is a fun game of, which director of a failed unfinished LOTR project do you believe?

John Boorman later reused a lot of his Lord of the Rings script ideas for his film Excalibur. I haven’t seen the full thing, but the film kinda feels like proto-Game of Thrones? I feel like it adds credence to the idea that the bad screenplay was real-- a lot of the weird way Boorman writes women/gender in Excalibur is reflected in the parodically awful FrodoXGaladriel Fanfic Stuff.

Plus, I’ve seen the Andrew Davies BBC adaptation of Les Miserables! And ithat adaptation is so terrible that I can believe that the nonsense in the Boorman screenplay, like FrodoxGaladriel, can seem perfectly reasonable if you approach it from the perspective of a mediocre middle-aged male writer. :/ Anyway! But my BBC Les Mis Salt isn’t really relevant here! :D

But yeah! That’s some context I have on hand. The exciting fun story of the Lotr movie that was never made! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

#lotr #lord of the rings #john boorman lotr

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demonslayedher · 4 years ago

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what important messages or meanings did demon slayer leave you? it left me a lot, i interpreted the "messages" and the "teachings" in my own way, i don't know if they correspond to the real messages given indirectly by the author in the manga but i'm objective in evaluating, i hope i succeeded. in the meantime i ask questions also because it's interesting to know the point of view of others 🦋

This has been such a pleasant thing to ponder all day, Anon. I feel like I had good ideas hours ago, but I’ll try to keep my answers succinct.

When I feel like I need to explain myself to people in real life for why I’m so obsessed with Kimetsu no Yaiba, besides it encompassing lore that very, very, very easily aligns with many of my long term interests, I often say it’s the simple shounen power fantasy I need in my life right now. A lot of analysts paying attention to the phenomenon in Japan have said its success is partly due to the pandemic, and how demon slaying is a basic, timeless story, and how many of Japan’s legends of demon slaying throughout the centuries have been about struggling against diseases. There is something straightforwardly comforting about the Demon Slayer Corp .vs. Kibutsuji Muzan and his hoard.

That’s not what I think Gotouge had in mind, though, as no one could had predicted how KnY’s success would skyrocket in time with the pandemic’s development. But there’s something to be a said for a good-vs-evil story, a never-give-up story, a friends-we-made-along-the-way story. Those are all good messages in and of themselves.

If I had to boil the main message I get from KnY down to one thing, it’s “you’re special, just like everyone else”, though I hate to boil it down to that sarcastic wording because Gotouge has always come across so sincere about this.

With such a varied cast full of characters who each have their own struggles, it’s really nice to see how people find themselves relating to different characters for different reasons (or looking to characters they admire because they see something they want to relate to in them), be it for circumstances or personality flaws or for their motivations. It’s also nice how I can enjoy a character for who they are and root for them even if I don’t particularly relate. Personality wise I see myself in some characters more than others, but there’s other things too. For example, as someone with a lot of younger siblings and someone who practices martial arts without being especially good at them, there are a number of little things that hit me on a deeply relatable level. Like, “ouch” levels.

But if I had to come back to that “you’re special, so is everyone else” thing, I have three general things to say about it: 1. Gotouge is in a very, very strange position, catapulted into being an extremely influential, special person. But Wani-sensei practically bleeds humility; and the insistence of looking for what’s wonderful and worth appreciating in other people has felt stronger and stronger the more popular KnY has gotten. The extra pages at the end of volume 23 really feel like they hammer this in.

2. Something a lot of people have pointed out about what makes KnY special is how much you see of the demons’ tragedies, and how Tanjiro is like Emphathy Incarnate. He’s not the first sympathetic hero out there and this isn’t the first shounen series with sad back stories for its villains. But what drives this home is that anyone has potential to become a demon who commits unforgivable crimes, no one is special.

3. Now for the message that probably hit me the hardest, driven home especially clearly in the Rengoku Vol. 0 extra: Is there any value in trying if you don’t have talent?

Obviously we all know we’re supposed to say “yes, there is, work hard, do your best” but I don’t think most of us really believe that. It is extremely easy to fall into patterns of “I’ve worked so hard but I can’t get ahead, I didn’t win this competition, my classmate is so much better than me, my work will always be second-rate, what is the point? Have I wasted all my effort because I can’t be the best? Because I can’t be noticed and praised? Will this hard work never amount to anything because other people are more talented than me?”

At least for me, it’s a lesson I need to learn over and over. Throughout KnY, it comes in many different forms: Kokushibo driven to throw away his life on two different occasions because he feels so inadequate compared to Yoriichi’s talent, Tanjiro feeling like he’ll never amount to anything no matter how hard he works because the rest of the world is still just so much more powerful than he is, Shinobu seeing only her own physical weakness when comparing herself to Kanae, Kaigaku feeling threatened when he’s not recognized as superior, and Giyuu, freaking Giyuu, so on and so forth.

But Shinjuro’s burn-out (not meant to be a pun), and young Kyojuro’s efforts to understand his change in demeanor, recognizing he cannot claim to know his father’s heart, but also coming dangerously close to falling into the same self-doubt, that hurt. Why even cheer on someone who you can tell is just going to fail anyway? What could that boy’s efforts even be worth?

But even though that boy was untalented and soon died, the strength of character he had was what left a profound impact on Kyojuro. It’s because of people like him that Kyojuro, who did later become an extremely powerful person worthy of Akaza’s attention, could overcome the tempting moments of wondering, “what’s the point of anyone who isn’t talented even trying at all?” Most of the characters are talented. Extremely talented, or extremely hard working. But none of them will ever be Yoriichi.

And Yoriichi never saw anything good in himself anyway.

This is where we all can benefit from having Tanjiro in our lives, to reread those last extra pages of volume 23, and to have someone remind us, we are special, we are precious, we are worthy of so much respect, and all of our efforts are important.

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manicdragondreamgirl · 4 years ago

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I haven’t had chemistry since like 2008, and I’m also an idiot who likes to make my friends upset, so I rated the periodic table in order to tilt my friends:

Hydrogen - this is like your childhood friend who has always been with you more or less and always will be down to get a drink and chill even tho you haven’t spoken in years. Solid bro imo 7.5/10

Helium - always down for a good time, even if probably created Alvin and the Chipmunks which in some places is considered a war crime. 4/10

Lithium - Gives me bitchy vibes and is flammable as fuck if I remember. Skinny bitch with an attitude 3/10

Beryllium - idk this sounds like a sailor moon villain lol for that it can have a 6/10

Boron - more like BORONG amirite ha ha wait no seriously I have no idea lol 5/10 clean neutral rating

Carbon - *screaming* 2/10 I will not be taking questions

Nitrogen - cool cool cool tight tight tight 9/10 Nitrogen just is the cool hot chick you wish you were

Oxygen - kid who takes up all the glory for the group project even tho you did all the work, 4/10 for natural charisma

Fluorine - lol what are you knockoff chlorine lmfao bitch 3/10 reminds me of the dentist

Neon - I can vibe with this boy for his contributions to signs which cause my eyes to scream 8/10 modernized Art Deco thanks you

Sodium - 10/10 this is me and I won’t be taking questions next element

Magnesium - magnesium is a close relative of magnificent and therefore I think the case is closed folks 9/10

Aluminum - 10/10 for providing a home to my Diet Coke addiction I’d be dead without you

Silicon - 6.9/10 :smirk:

Phosphorous - This has a very soundly name and it’s welcome to do that but idk, not a fan, seems like he’d be smelly, 2/10

Sulfur - 1/10 pretty sure that dog farts are purely comprised of this and as such if I was leaving negative ratings I would

Chlorine - 7.8/10 for being in pools so we could swim without brain eating amoeba in the south you a champ

Argon - he seems like a nerd jk this guy has a good color 9/10 for just being himself

Potassium - I hate bananas and this word gives me the physical sensation of biting into one but only by thinking of abstract letters and making them into something which we can nutrientise from bananas and to me that shit is bananas, b a n a n a s — 3/10 for making me sing hollaback girl thru adhd word association

Calcium - hm my brain went to mega milk so you get a 2/10 today bud I don’t make the rules

Scandium - pretty sure this is fake lol what’s next faxdium, e-Mailite and copinium? 5/10

Titanium - this song’s a banger and also is the only thing that lets me wear earrings 10/10

Vanadium - if your erection lasts for longer than like idk it’s supposed to then don’t take vanadium wait what do you mean it’s not an ED treatment 4/10

Chromium - decent bloke shame the browser eats all your memory 5/10

Manganese - if a weeb tries to tell me how to pronounce mayonnaise one more time... 1/10

Iron - excellent tool against the fey, in your blood, what a bro, 10/10 this bitch slaps

Cobalt - has a powerful energy; I respect him. 8/10

Nickel - if I had a nickel for every time someone made this joke lol 5/10 he’s doing his best

Copper - taste bad 3/10

Zinc - isn’t that the dude in the green tunic and white tights who saves premcess Lelda or something lol 7/10 those games are good

Gallium - seems like a prick 4/10

Germanium - sounds like a child pronouncing geraniums which are superior 3/10

Arsenic - bad vibes coach 1/10

Selenium - isn’t this just sailor moon lol 10/10 love this bitch

Bromine - farmine wherever you aremine - 9/10 I love a good bro

Krypton - he’s okay I guess 5/10

Rubidium - yet another Steven universe villain who will be redeemed I imagine 4/10 seems a bit dull

Strontium - I feel nothing when I see this lad’s name and that seems like a shame 1/10 I don’t like it

Yttrium - this is an atrium in Yharnam, or something 8/10 would love to sit in one and make contact with higher beings

Zirconium - oh wait THIS is the sailor moon villain from the dead moon circus! 9/10 I enjoyed that arc

Niobium - seems sassy, I like that in an element 7/10

Molybdenum - I hate this one, rancid. 1/10 for making me have flashbacks to difficult Ancient Greek vocabulary there is no fucking way that sound combination is anything but Beta and Delta borking and then Latin being like oh imma steal that

Technetium - 6/10 decent name but seems a bit forced

Ruthenium - 5/10 kindly old lady element I guess lol

Rhodium - 10/10 this ain’t my first rhodium babee this lad has good vibes what a name what a king

Palladium - 10/10 for making me think of paladins

Silver - 12/10 I’m breaking the rules for this silver is the best it is so cool and also it is the other best tool for dealing with supernatural creatures when iron has failed you highly suggest Even if I am extremely allergic to it going into my ears...wait hold on

Cadmium - 2/10 sounds like a total douche

Indium - 8/10, i just think it’s independent and neat

Tin - 10/10 good ear sounds when involving rain and roof shapes and automatically reminds me of Nora Jones’s come away with me album which is also 10/10

Antimony - 7/10 decent protagonist good name all around seems rad

Tellurium - tell ur mom what? That’s so early 2010s league of legends humor bro 2.5/10

Iodine - strikes fear in my soul from having it poured on my wounds but this is why I have more pain tolerance than god 5.3/10

Xenon - I think this is a declension of Xena warrior princess which is a win in my eyes, 8/10

Caesium - kind of has a cunty Latin name, 4.5/10

Barium - yeah boss, bury’im! 7.5/10 I love a good mobster gag

Lanthanum - A bit pretentious on the Tolkien spectrum sorry bud 3/10 sounds like you’d be the dickwad elf everyone hates

Cerium - 6.5/10 I like this one, gives me a clean vibe

Praseodymium - the fuck who sneezed all their alphabet soup onto the paperwork and called it an element Christ we can’t keep doing this 1.5/10

Neodymium - oh my god what did I just say 1/10

Promethium - thank Christ we’re back to greek 9/10 Prometheus was a Chad I could get behind

Samarium - 5/10 gives me boring wizard vibes

Europium - 4.5/10 don’t rename opium chrissake can’t take these nerds anywhere

Gadolinium - 5/10 it’s a starship knockoff but it’s trying to be bold with the G sound

Terbium - 2/10 I don’t vibe with this one

Dysprosium - sounds like an antidepressant that has a lot of shitty side effects 3/10

Holmium - sounds like someone anxious asking their beloved to hold them 8/10 I like hurt/comfort fics

Erbium - you can’t just describe something as herby you daft bastard 2/10

Thulium - sounds like a spell I like it 8.5/10

Ytterbium - macguffin in a shite sci-fi show that gets highly overrated because BBC produced it and superwholock stans emerge and go utterly feral 1/10

Lutetium - bards are an element I agree 10/10

Hafnium - sounds like a river (my dog) sound and has a cute vibe, I’d offer it head pats 7/10

Tantalum - noooo you can’t be sad yuor so sexe haha 6.9/10 tantalizing

Tungsten - 10/10 this is a lad with history

Rhenium - 5.5/10 it’s ok

Osmium - 4/10 I wasn’t a big wizard of oz fan

Iridium - 9/10 sounds like iridescent and that’s in my top 10 favorite words and concepts

Platinum - 10/10 best Pokémon game

Gold - 7.9/10 all that glitters and all but it’s still pretty on some people, silver is better tho

Mercury - yikes 8/10 so it doesn’t kill me

Thallium - sounds like the brother character in a ps4 exclusive western rpg that oddly falls under the radar in terms of reviews and gets shafted at awards for no reason 7/10 I’ll support you tho

Lead - 2/10 that’s gonna be a no from me dawg pretty sure I still have lead in my hands from stabbing myself with my mechanical pencils

Bismuth - 6/10 sounds good in mouth and reminds me of biscuits for some reason, I’ll take it

Polonium - to thine own self be true so stop trying to act like the arts don’t influence science jk pretty sure this is named for Poland but hey that’s where we get the Witcher so you get a pass 6/10

Astatine - 1/10 I don’t even know what you are

Radon - 7/10 this motherfucker knows his shit and how to party, rad is right

Francium - I bring you francium...and I bring you myrdurdium... 7/10 for a good vine

Radium - killed the video star probably 9/10 I can get behind her

Actinium - as opposed to passtinium I prefer actinium in the voice of writing 8/10

Thorium - overrated Norse god 5/10 because lightning is still cool

Protactinum - sounds like some pretentious condom brand 4/10 wouldn’t do it with a dude who bought these

Uranium - I always thought she was a hot sailor scout 10/10

Neptunium - same for her I knew they weren’t cousins you couldn’t lie to me 4kids 10/10

Plutonium - sounds like a macguffin unfortunately 5/10

Americium - I read this with a pivotal letter missing and nearly died, 7/10 for the laugh

Curium - 10/10 gives me Curie vibes and also reminds me of curiosity which reminds me of—[old yellered before the association could set in]

Berkelium - what I shout when I want Burke (fam dog) to slaughter innocents and raze territories 2/10 world was not meant to know his commands

Californium - 1/10 California is cool with geography but probs could stand to chill with the ego sorry to my friends in Cali

Einsteinium - 6/10 it’s alright but we’re really running out of ideas huh

Fermium - 3/10 this one is porny

Mendelevium - 1/10 my brain didn’t like parsing this and I stand by my earlier statement of running out of good names

Nobelium - 0/10 you didn’t name any noble gases this cowards this gas can’t be a noble oh wait it’s NOBEL I take it back 5/10 seems an alright chap

Lawrencium - fear the old blood my sorry dead hunter’s ass I’ll never get back my life from the hours I spent trying to beat this lava shitting bastard 2/10 for being a boss who eats Taco Bell specifically before being challenged to have fresh lava shit with which to punish you for having the audacity to exist in his space

Rutherfordium - my god what a snob 4.2/10 I respect him a little but only because he sounds like a right lad

Dubnium - DROP THE BASS 10/10

Seoborgium - not sure about this one but it can have a 7/10

Bohrium - as an American English speaker this sound combination makes my pathetic throat become a black hole as I try to properly create the sound of it 10/10 I love when my body becomes a massive void in the universe

Hassium - lazy 2/10

Elements 109-118 can go fuck themselves I hate them all, collective 6.66/10 for their general demonic vibe

#the periodic table #made by an idiot #it’s me your manic dragon dream girl #long post

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dappercritter · 4 years ago

Text

Invader Zim: Taller Tales of Terror - The First Fic That Wasn’t

This was going to be my first fanfiction that I ever published, but things came up and I found other story ideas and fandoms to get into. However, because there’s nothing I hate more than leaving a story untold and forgotten.

So like a writer jilted by a big name studio working on a big superhero movie that went terribly wrong after they left, I’m going to share it with you good folks to see if you still think there’s hope for it in some capacity. If so maybe I’ll choose to revive it in some capacity, or one of you kind folks can adopt it. Whatever you think of the once untold tale I’m about tell you, I hope you enjoy it.

The fic would have been either a mini-series/anthology or a movie-esque sequel—or two—to Enter the Florpus.

It would have followed the stranger further misadventures the kids would go on as teenagers, all of which have at least something to do with getting taller, literally or metaphorically.

Although I'd do my best to recreate the series' darkly comic tone, there'd be more to the story than just that. I'd like to do a sort of character study with my fanfics and explore what they would do as they got older, how they would change if they could change, if they'd mature and try to connect with each other more, or if they really do just hate each other. It'd be like a coming-of-age story but done in the style of Invader Zim.

But don’t be fooled, folks! It's not going to be one of those big dramatic fanfics with high stakes (nor any smut) thrown in. At it's core it's still just a fun, dumb, mildly disturbed "What if?" sort of fic. There would be a bit more emphasis on character and plot than normal, because I do love me a good character-driven plot, but still plenty of room for (what I hoped would feel like) the usual weird dumb creepy fun that original series excelled at.

The story is set in basically the same continuity (or at least the closest thing to a continuity that can exist in Invader Zim) as the show and comics. The only difference is that the Battle of Meekrob actually happened—but not really.

Long backstory short, there was a big showdown between the Irken Armada and the Meekrob-allied Resisty, but Zim and Dib missed it because a food fight got them stuck in detention. Zim tried to get Skoodge (who was rooming with him at the time because the scrapped Season 2 episodes were sorta canon here) to cover for him until her got there, while Dib tried to get Gaz to take Tak’s ship to provide support against the Irken. By the time they got out, however, the battle was over, Gaz blew the whole thing off to get a new game, Skoodge and some other Invader became the war hero Zim always aspired to be, and The Almighty Tallest decided to cancel Operation Impending Doom 2 because after the big exciting space battle they felt like they couldn’t top anything after that. Suffice to say, Zim took it pretty hard. Dib however would have seen this as something of a win since Zim still failed in a sense. Albeit it was a very anticlimactic win, even to him.

The actual story would have taken place about 5 years after the Battle of Meekrob, where Zim, Dib, and Gaz have made it to high school (or “hi-skool” as this is the Invader Zim universe, after all). Setting wise, things haven't changed much but the characters have made a few surprising or not-so-surprising developments. The most important of all, so important that it would be the focus of the entire story, in fact! would have been Zim developing a brand-new disguise utilizing an exoskeleton, based partially on the Almighty Tallest, in attempt to make him look like a normal teenager AND impress superiors. Naturally, things go horribly yet amusingly wrong for everyone involved.

Now just where and what has everyone been up to/going through in those five years? Here’s a rundown:

-Zim spent those 5 years obsessing over his crushing failure, begging the Tallest to give him another chance, which they refused every time. Being stuck on a planet of smelly, stupid, and increasingly annoying creatures for so long without any real victories has left him bitter and frantic with more shmoopiness than usual. Even the little "VICTORY FOR ZIM!" moments he used to have got harder and harder to come by. By the time he reached high school, he was so messed up he didn’t realize his classmates had all had growth spurts until Dib easily overpowered him in one of their petty fights and points it out to the whole school. Thus, leading to the new exoskeleton and subsequent schemes to redeem himself in the eyes of the Tallest while looking normal in the eyes of his human classmates. Unfortunately, due to his desperation and general lack of understanding about the human body, the exoskeleton comes out looking like a lanky robotic nightmare with clawed fingers that jerks around like a big cybernetic marionette.

-Dib meanwhile has been doing slightly better. He and his paranormal research are still looked down upon, but he's persevered through the hope that someday he'll prove he's right. After (indirectly) stopping Zim from joining the Battle of Meekrob, Dib got a small confidence boost, thinking of it as a big step to exposing for Zim real now that he’s effectively trapped on Earth with him now. Although, following a rather blunt intervention from his family, he's started thinking about what he’ll do with himself once Zim is gone. He still hates his guts and he's still hellbent on beating him, but he's also started getting out more and trying to socialize more—however awkward his attempts may be. That he's also gotten taller and his head isn't quite as big compared to the rest of his body has been good for his self-esteem too. But make no mistake—when he's not going for runs, working shifts at his dad’s lab, or looking into a “totally normal” science major, he's toiling away on improving his array of anti-Zim strategies and defenses.

-Gaz is doing pretty good but she is totally done with Zim and Dib's junk. Although she's still her old apathetic self, she's doing everything in her power to broaden her horizons so she doesn't end up in the same, stupid rut that they ended up in. She would have gotten into indie art and game development; although her work is still fairly obscure, it's quickly gaining attention for it's macabre, edgy, punishing and geeky nature. (Imagine the works of Jhonen Vasquez, Toby Fox, Hidetaka Miyazaki, and Hideki Kamiya mashed together.) She also participates in e-sports tournaments on occasion, if only because crushing countless so-called “gamers” brings her amusement. Her psychic powers have also gotten stronger with her age, and she likes to experiment with them whenever she can—usually when somebody really annoys her. She's doing fine in the story until, after a run-in with a certain unkillable spoiled brat at an e-sports tournament, sends her over the edge and she trashes the place in a Carrie-esque episode. This gets her sent to anger management therapy, and now she's trying to find a way out to avoid sitting through an endless slog of "sappy" sessions.

-Gir would still be insane.

-Minimoose would still be the ultimate techno-lifeform Minimoose.

-Zim's Computer is still tired.

-Prof. Membrane is still the greatest and most powerful scientist who ever lived but he’s also trying to make time for his family more and mentoring Dib to be the successor to his legacy he always thinks he was meant to be. That is if is experimental new immortality machine doesn’t work out. May or may not have to fend off Clembrane whenever he comes to visit.

-The Almighty Tallest are still living content, tyrannical lives. They didn't take canceling Operation Impending Doom 2 very hard because, as it turns out, they just got bored with it after a while. (Of course, Zim's repeated interference didn't help keep their spirits up either). However, they'd come up with the perfect plan to obtain absolute control of the universe AND get the feeling back: by making Operation Impending Doom 3 a thing and setting up a huge hype campaign for it. Thing go pretty well for them until Zim calls them and tells them about his new exosuit. They believe that Zim is trying to make himself look like a Tallest so he can lead a rebellion against them and get revenge for treating him like garbage. (He's not, obviously, but they're too dumb and paranoid to realize this.) So, they pretend that they're ok with it and let him carry on his merry way while they figure out how to dispose of him without making him look like a martyr figure of some sort, thus giving the other Irkens they mistreated any ideas.

-Tak would show up again in the second half and this is where it gets spoiler-y. She would come to Earth on the Tallest’s orders with a squad consisting of a reformatted Mimi, rogue SIR units, as well as Tenn and Skoodge who she had recruited to aid in her vendetta against Zim. She would subsequently reveal that after drifting through space in an escape pod, she crashed landed on Meekrob just as the battle was about to begin, and using the element of surprise, rescued Tenn from captivity and assisted Skoodge and the Tallest in devising a battle strategy so brilliant that it crushed the Resisty and Meekrob’s alliance and earned her the status of Irken Elite. She grew comfortable in her new position but could never get over her fear that Zim would eventually ruin it all again, so she waited and prepared for the day she would strike back. I don’t know how or if she would adopt an updated disguise (perhaps a hologram of her older humansona projected over her, Tenn, and Skoodge standing on top of her shoulders?) or hide in the shadows while Tenn, Skoodge, Mimi and the berserk SIR squad did her dirty work.

-Skoodge would have gone from aspiring to be Zim’s friend to being his worst enemy after Tak turned him to her side by digging into his past with him, making him realize how little his supposed old friend cared about him. Despite this he still keeps an unusually cheerful disposition—even repeatedly apologizing to Zim whenever he attacks him—and acts as the heart of Tak’s squad. He thinks of them as his real friends, so he always goes out of his way to help them out or keep the energy up. Even though Tak looks down on him because of his size, she appreciates his gullibility and unquestioning loyalty. Tenn just thinks he’s nice, especially since he’s good at keeping the SIRs in check.

-Tenn has recovered from the traumatic escapades she endured on Meekrob at the hands of the rogue SIR units and imprisonment under the enemy, returning to her usual competant Invader self—something Tak values quite a bit in an armada largely composed of egomaniacs and morons. Tenn values Tak’s companionship even more, viewing her as a conquering hero who not only won the most important battle of Irken history, but also, her heart. …Not she’ll ever act on her feelings. That would inconveniance the mission! (Although Skoodge has picked up on this and gladly supports her, thinking they’d make an adorable couple.) After investation revealed that Zim was supposed to receive the rogue SIR units instead of her while he trashed the Megadoomer that was rightfully assigned to her, she bought into Tak’s view that Zim’s very existence was a threat to all Irkenkind, gladly assisting her efforts to eradicate him.

-Mimi and the rogue SIR units have been reprogrammed to be less insane and follow orders again thanks to Tak and Skoodge’s efforts. However, Tak also had a berserk mode installed specfically for eradicating targets with optimal, brutal efficiency. Mimi still tends to glitch though. In addition to Mimi retaining her cat holo-disguise, the berserker SIRs would gain new disguises resembling either feral cats or rabid teacup poodles. (I hadn’t decided yet.) Tenn still gets anxious around them.

-Gretchen might show up again and would possibly get to reconnect with Dib, maybe even finally be honest with him about her feelings for him when she surprises him with her surprising new position at Membrane Labs: the janitor.

-Keef will… er, uh… actually, don’t get your hopes up.

Well, I think that’s everyone important. Okay back to the plot now!

So, right up front, the biggest part of the plot as well as the biggest reason why I got uncomfortable with the whole thing was there wiould be some romance in here between a few couples and that it would have figured into the plot. The most significant of all: ZAGR (a.k.a. Zim and Gaz Relationship). But I wanted to make it feel organic and even sweet without sacrificing the feel of sardonic madness but also keeping it in the wholesome zone.

I always felt like Zim and Gaz were a natural fit for each other (like quite a few other people, admittedly) because I always felt like their personalities were a good fit and they could have a lot in common. The story would follow them as they unexpectedly developed a romantic friendship, bonding over their resentment of the Earth and humanity, their absent family members, a love of technology of questionable intent, and subjugating those who anger them. It would all start with Gaz agreeing to help Zim improve his suit and his unassuming human act just to get back at Dib for annoying her. At first they’d be acting entirely out of spite and necessity, but as they spent more time together, they’d start to enjoy each other’s company more.

Gaz would be the first develop feelings, since she voluntarily rejected the concept of love instead of being programmed to reject it like Zim, as she slowly realizes how much they have in common—much to her horror. Zim would take more time but when he begins to understand how he feels about and just what these DISGUST feelings are, he’d handle it just as poorly. (e.g. I pictured a scene where Zim has such a hard time admitting his feelings for Gaz that he ends up vomiting black goo like he’s possessed or something. For comedy of course.) But they’d both start to open up to each other in the end, if only because they’re the only two people in the universe they can stand. Gaz would try to help him overcome his anxiety and stop caring as much about what humans think of him, while he would be someone that she can actually relate to.

Dib, however, would take sincerest offense to it. He’d be totally freaking out, nearly diving off the deep end to put his plans to defeat Zim into action and expose him before he could be exposed. He’d also make a point of demanding what Gaz could see in a monster like him, even reminding her of everything that Zim had done. Probably in an exchange like this:

DIB: He stole our organs! He tried to crush the planet with Mars! He kidnapped me and threatened to turn me inside out! He tricked me into helping him teleport Earth into outer space so his rulers could destroy it! He turned me into bologna, Gaz! (*holding back tears*) BOLOGNE!

GAZ: I thought you got over that.

DIB: Well, physically I did, yes, but not mentally.

Gir would be pretty on board with it though.

The other biggest plot of the series would have been Tak’s return and the reveal of her and the Tallest’s master plan to destroy Zim once and for all: kick off Operation Impending Doom 3 by placing Zim on trial, executing him, and completing Tak’s plan to turn the planet Earth into a snack bowl for the Tallest (which she still insists is a good plan, she just never got to complete it) big enough to feed them while they watch the conquest of the rest of the universe in style. Zim and the Membranes get through to her and her squad, and possibly the other Irkens, by turning them against the Tallest to stop the Irkens once and for all. Maybe.

Finally to wrap this little nightmare up, here’s a vague outline of the stories I had planned for this wannabe whopper:

-A Whole New Nightmare – Following an amusing prologue about how Zim and Dib ended up missing the battle of Meekrob, Zim finally realizes that his natural Irken height threatens to expose his façade to all the classmates who have reached proper adolescent human height. He creates his exosuit then proceeds to cause a scene when he calls the Tallest and goes to hi-skool. Meanwhile, Gaz bugs Dib about still wasting his time bullying Zim. Zim then challenges Dib to a contest of normalcy: a series of challenges that are just overhyped normal teenage things like loitering, hanging out with friends, and finally a dance-off. Whoever loses has to admit they’re a complete weirdo and admit they’re most embarrassing secret. Dib wins the first round, but after he blows off Gaz to hang out with the other kids, she and Zim strike up a nice conversation and he wins the second round. The final dance-off ends in a draw when Zim and Dib both end up looking like total dorks. The story ends with Dib and Zim standing up for themselves against their judgemental peers, but Zim ends up overtaking his big speech and convincing his classmates to completely forget about his bizarre new appearance.

-Gaz the Befriended - Zim and Gaz make a deal: Gaz helps him fine tune his suit while posing as his "NORMAL HUMAN!" friend, and in return he helps her figure out how to control her powers while posing as her friend so she won't have to go to anger management counselling. While they do drive each other nuts, they eventually learn they have a lot in common and start acting like real friends. Dib grows suspicious of their "friendship," sets out to uncover the truth.

-They Follow - Dib goes on social media to share his findings on Zim with the world in an attempt to verify all his evidence via wisdom of the crowd. Zim finds out and retaliates by joining social media as well to make himself look like a hard luck case in an effort to gain sympathy from the (basically ignorant) public. As their war of words escalate and their follower bases grow, they end up starting a flame war that threatens to destroy society itself.

-Star Dib - Hoping to find some real help, Dib sends a message to outer space looking for reinforcements. He ends up with what remains of the Resisty, who dissolved after their crushing defeat on The Battle of Meekrob. Taking pity on them, he volunteers to become their new leader. Shenanigans ensue on a galactic level.

-C for Conspiracy - Dib stumbles across a mysterious conspiracy involving Earth tech being backwards compatible with alien tech. He wants to take it on himself, but realizes that he might actually need Zim’s help. So he has to swallow his pride and ask him for help, and as if that weren’t enough he has to put up with his and Gir’s (who tagged along) antics.

-Night of the Living Prom-goers - Prom night comes along and all the hormonally-imbalanced kids are ready to go, except for Zim, Dib, and Gaz. Until Gaz works up the nerve to ask Zim out, which he actually accepts. While Gaz prepares for her perfect tolerable evening, Dib desperately tries to convince her that Zim’s up to something while trying uncover his true motives, only for her to snap at him and challenge his views on Zim. Little do either of them know, Zim plans to use the prom as an experiment to harness Gaz’s power for his own ends. But at the same time, he ponders whether his friendship with Gaz is just a means to an end or something more. Either way it will be a night they will never forget. Or survive! Probably.

-The Return of Tak’s Revenge Rises - Tak finally returns to take her revenge on Zim and the Membrane siblings. Striking them when they least expect with the aid of an upgraded MiMi, a squad of berserk SIR units, and two fellow invaders Zim had wronged in the past.

-Doomed Together - Following Tak’s strike, the Almighty Tallest kick off Operation Impending Doom 3 with a mission of utmost importance: sending in the Irken Armada to ensure Zim is destroyed once for all so they can finally proceed with absolute universal domination. Now, Gaz, Dib, and some unlikely allies must come up with a plan to save their even more unlikely new friend and the rest of the universe from the most fearsome force in the universe! It’s basically the grand finale.

And that is all there is, or was, to Taller Tales of Terror. I can’t guarantee I’ll ever revisit it, what with all the other stuff on my plate right now, but I’m glad to have finally shared the story of my first fanfic with y’all.

So, tell me, my filthy monkey maggot mutual friends. After all that horrible rambling, what did you think?

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botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years ago

Note

Any tips on how to write Revali? I have a hard time writing his dialogue and making it sound like him without seeming too ooc. Any pointers would really help! -k

I certainly struggle with dialogue myself, but I will try to tell you what I know!

TL;DR: Revali is a character that I would describe as blunt, but not straightforward. He speaks in a way where he gets to the point, stating his opinion, but is said in a manner that has several uses. His dialogue is multi-purposeful, serving to both tell his opinion while at the same time undermining someone else, highlighting his talents, or otherwise. Use “complex” words and make use of subtext, subtly, and even sarcasm when writing for him, but don’t do it too the point where he sounds like a reincarnated Marie Antoinette, as his dialogue should only be “complex” enough for him to boast of his intelligence, he’s not a fancy noble.

For example, if we analyze this line:

“With proper utilization of my superior skills, I see no reason why we couldn’t easily dispense with Ganon. Now then, my ability to explore the firmament is certainly of note...but let’s not—pardon me for being so blunt—let’s not forget the fact that I am the most skilled archer of all the Rito.” (Revali, Revali’s Flap Cutscene)

We can see that this piece of dialogue is filled with character, which you can tell because message of the dialogue isn’t the only focus. In fact, if you were to break this down, and I rewrite this for the inherent message alone...

“We can defeat Ganon with my great skills. While my ability to fly is important, also we shouldn’t forget—sorry for being blunt—we shouldn’t forget that I am the best Rito archer.”

Both of those pieces of dialogue tell the same message, but it is the way that the first one is crafted with diction, connotation, and subtext that make it more “Revali,” but really, you can use the things I’m about to say for any character.

Diction is the choice of wording. Obviously there are millions of words that can all tell similar things, but it’s your choice as the author to understand the power of certain words. Are you going to say use or utilization? Are you going to use sky or firmament? Scrap or dispense? Sorry or pardon me? Essentially, what I’m saying is that the diction for writing for Revali should reflect his desire to appear superior to others, and his efforts to try and prove that to others (and himself) can usually be reflected through his more complex word choices. He would revel at the notion that he might have to talk down to a certain confused knight if he asked what the word “firmament” meant.

Connotation is the feeling or associating ideas that come with a word. This typically goes hand-and-hand with diction, but they are two separate things. Connotation typically deals with the deeper meaning of a word, further than its textbook definition. Think of the word unique vs the word peculiar. Both essentially mean the same thing, but you usually associate peculiar with negative or strange things, while unique is associated with positive or special things. This is the positive and negative connotation that you can use to give character. Think of stingy vs saving, vintage vs old. It’s not just limited to positive and negative either. When writing for Revali I try to use words that have a connotation that expresses wit. Use superior vs better. Intelligent vs smart. Asinine vs stupid. Of course vs sure or yes. Your choice of words (diction) should not only depends on the sentence structure, rhythm, or alliteration, but also on the connotation.

Finally, subtext is the underlying message of dialogue that is not outright said by a character. Easiest example, sarcasm. You say one thing but mean another. “Ah yes, let’s explore the not-at-all creepy and disturbing catacombs that are sealed deep beneath the castle for mysterious and unknown reasons. I’m sure it will be fine, and the smell of corpses only adds to the growing desire I’m getting to die today. Hurrah!” Revali is the type to use sarcasm, do I even need to explain that? However! Sometimes, that’s the extent that people will go into for subtext, when you should really be using it for nearly every scene you will ever write. Subtext is the bread and butter of interesting scenes, of conflict and tension.

Looking back at the example, Revali says “pardon me for being so blunt.” This line is fantastic not just because of the use of diction, but also because it plays into the dynamic between Revali and Link. Revali think’s Link is unworthy of being the hero, he doesn’t respect him and it’s a blow to his ego that someone seemingly so much worse than him is of higher rank. Revali has no respect for Link. That’s the basic dynamic, and that’s what plays into the subtext. If you read “pardon me for being so blunt” just off the fly, or from some other character, you wouldn’t get the full picture. You might think it’s a fancy butler, the lack of tone might set you off into thinking someone is actually apologetic for something.

But that’s not the case here, the writer for this weaponized the reader’s knowledge of Revali and Link’s dynamic to establish his character. Revali’s not sorry for shit! Have you seen this asshole? I love him. This line was completely unnecessary, but it’s addition to the dialogue not only clued in readers/players to the dynamic between the two, but further enhances character.

Use subtext, let the rule and scenarios you create play into interesting dialogue. Do not, for the love of me, do not just let you character’s outright say what they are doing, which is unfortunately something that Breath of the Wild does a bit too often. Sarcasm, obviously, is one of the more popular forms, but don’t just stick with that. Use the dynamics between characters to create banter, use tension to mask insecurity. Don’t let your character just say “I’m mad at you. I wish you would do this” but please weave that “message” between interesting subtext and I promise your dialogue will be 400% better. Are they going to say “I’m mad.” or are you going to make them talk about something slightly out of their character traits to indicate that something is wrong. Are you going to let a character explain “I wish you would...” or, are you going to let them go off on a witty tangent, where they complain about the things that another character does. Subtext is so much more efficient too! Look at this bit of final screenplay for American Beauty.

Jane: Mom, do we always have to listen to this elevator music?

Now, in the original screenplay, was

Jane: I want us to change the music that we listen to at dinner all the time

The second one sucks, and the reason is subtext. The only information we are being given in the original screenplay is that Jane wants to change the music that they listen to at dinner with their family. In the final screenplay, the dialogue tells us

Jane hates this kind of music

Jane wants to change the music they listen to

The mother has the power in this dynamic

The music is a typical thing this family goes through

Not only that, but the way in which this was said was far more interesting. Elevator music is an insult to her mothers choice of music. In the movie, even the tone in which is actress said this line implies that she was not asking politely, but in a tone that expresses her distaste for the situation.

I could go so far into subtext and dialogue but really you should just watch these videos which will explain it infinitly better than I could:

How To Write Great Dialogue [The Closer Look]

American Beauty (Part 1) — The Art of Character [Lessons From The Screenplay]

On Writing: The First Chapter [hello future me]

Inglorious Bastards — The Element of Suspense [Lessons From the Screenplay and this movie is one of my favs and the first scene is just a masterclass of subtext *chef’s kiss* I love it and also they punch Nazi’s and who doesn’t love a good Nazi punching watch the movie before watching anything else please it’s great unless you’re like thirteen in which case why are you on tumblr]

Final note before I end off yet another fucking essay, wow I write more about writing than actually writing my fics I have a problem, but anyhow, do not think of your characters as individuals. Don’t think, “Oh they can’t say this because that might be out of character,” because while that might be true to an extent, it is ultimately you that determines the circumstances. You are the one crafting the character, don’t rely on the canon always. This character didn’t exist beforehand, there’s no textbook for you to double-check as see “Yep! Right as rain they’re allowed to say that!” No, it’s your job as the writer to justify the words that come out of their mouth by establishing their character, and creating fitting scenarios that fit towards your theme or overarching story. This goes not just for dialogue, but for writing any dynamics, romances, or world building. You could make me believe that Bolson got together with Bularia if you as the writer did a good enough job crafting compelling dialogue, and more importantly character.

Also, don’t write “realistic” dialogue, write believable dialogue

Rant done, pardon me for being so blunt. :P

#dont be cute and realistic and write with the 'ums' 'uh' stutters and pauses in dialogue unless it is unherantly essential to a character #idk why so many people do this #write believeable dialogue #that quip that usually takes you a few hours to think of?#the character should say that right away #writer's job is to make the dialogue believable interesting and flowing #anyhow #theres another ramble for you #why do i keep doing this #who keeps making me do these????????#its me #im bitches #botw #revali #breath of the wild #writing

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takaraphoenix · 4 years ago

Note

Uncle Rick could’ve written Harry Potter but that transphobic little shit could never do Percy Jackson

No and yes. JKR indeed could have never written PJO, however, the same thing is true the other way around too - Riordan never could have written HP.

Look, we all, who we have half a brain, hate JKR for her overall shitty self - transphobia, homophobia, antisemitism.

HOWEVER, the Harry Potter series is a world-famous, widely beloved best-selling series as is. As it was written by this woman.

You can play the Death of the Author card as much as you want, to make yourself feel better about separating the author from their work and getting to enjoy the work still. But as much as people play pretend, it doesn’t remove JKR from the world of Harry Potter; they are inherently intertwined.

She wrote it. She created it - and it can be argued that she ripped off a whole lot of things from other source material (but so did Riordan). Still, she is the one who brought those things together like that and who created these widely beloved characters as they are.

Rick Riordan, or literally any other author, could not have written Harry Potter, because... HP is, inherently, a combination of all of its pieces. Those pieces were created and chosen by its author and put together in this manner by its author.

Riordan would have created different characters, would have created a different world, would have put these things together in different ways.

PJO is a best-selling series itself, but it is nowhere near the level of HP and that alone shows you that no, Riordan could not have written Harry Potter because Riordan never even with his own creations wrote a Harry Potter level of world-phenomenon.

Any piece of art is inherently linked to the artist who created it.

You can hate any artist for any reason, but that doesn’t erase the fact that they were the ones who created that piece of art. No two minds are going to be able to produce the exact same thing; just because you dislike the creator doesn’t mean you can pretend that any other creator could have just created all of that. That isn’t true.

From character design to world building, to the syntax and inherent, unique writing style of an author, they leave their signature all over the book they write, in a way that makes it impossible to say “x could have done that (better)”, because no, x would not have had this exact idea.

There’s also this underlying implication in your words that Percy Jackson is superior to Harry Potter, which... it is not. And I’m saying that as a person who forced her way through the first four HP books before quitting because they’re not for me. Yet PJO is close to a niche fandom, most people you’ll talk to will either not have heard of it at all or have vaguely heard of it and never read it, while... everyone has heard of HP and it became a worldwide phenomenon. Whether you personally like it or not, that’s taste, but... its success is undeniable and it undeniably outdid PJO.

And this post is by no means meant to defend JKR in any way or shape; she’s a shitty human being and that’s that. But her shittiness being revealed has really brought on this now popular trend of pretending that you can separate her from her work... and you just can’t. She is, and always will be, an inherent part of Harry Potter, because she created it. No one else did and no one else could; otherwise, they would have.

#JKR #Harry Potter #PJOverse #Anonymous

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clydesgod · 4 years ago

Text

Discovery

Feat. an unknown cast of people

(A very lorebased drabble based around a certain oc. Hope you like it. I sorta went off the trails lmaooooooo)

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

Journal of Gervais Spear 11th of June, 1895 French Sudan

According to our records, there have been many sites like the exact one we have been excavating today all around the world. Some sites include Indochina, South America, the Pacific, and even some sites in Europe. It appears the British are also in touch with some of these sites, as well as the Spanish, Russians, and the Americans themselves.

However, this site feels VERY different to the ones logged before. This one is almost completely intact! Monsieur Leroy has been very adminant that this is the place that connects the other sides. If the translators are right, this entire temple could very well lead to some unknown treasure. Maybe something belonging to Mansa Musa? My brain is full of ideas, though the guide, Majid, tells me not to overthink it.

But I cannot help but think there is something strange about this temple. The stones that built this place couldn’t have come from Africa. That, and it seemed almost impossible for anyone to build such a place underground. It almost feels like this had to have been built by someone completely different from the ancestors of the locals here. Maybe an old empire we are yet to discover?

Maybe the heat is getting to my brain. Maybe I-

Gervais is pulled away from his journal, almost jumping out of his seat as a hand is placed upon his shoulder. He looked up, seeing the smiling face of Majid hovering above him.

��You look tired my friend,” He said, handing over a cup of what Gervais could assume was coffee. “Here, I know it’s early and the sun is not being too friendly to us. But you shouldn’t suffer alone.”

Gervais nodded, taking the metal cup and slowly taking a sip of it. It was a little stronger than what he was used to back in Metz. His face twisted a bit before swallowing, and taking in another sip. Majid simply chuckled to himself, and walked over towards another desk.

“This place is old, but I hardly doubt the Carthaginians were the ones who built this. The columns here don’t look remotely Greek. Besides, there’s a lack of, er, how you say ‘charm’. Unlike most buildings I’ve seen.”

Gervais nodded, flipping a page as he quickly scribbled something in. He didn’t talk much during the boat ride, and the camel ride over. Majid often felt like the complete opposite to him.

“Monsieur, I hate to be rude but you cannot be trapped under all those ledgers and journals for this long. We’re on the brink of excavating a possible new civilization and all you’re doing is following what Mathéo orders you to do.”

“...we’re not supposed to call him by his first name,” Gervais replied, looking up as he placed a bookmark between two pages and then swiftly closed it. “Monsieur Leroy has put a lot of money towards the expedition. He’s been to many places already, made a name for himself. With this, we might all become shockingly wealthy.”

“Will the guides be as well?” Majid asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

“I-I’m sure they will. Monsieur Leroy is a very generous man. He isn’t one to shy away from getting aid from nearby villages and garrisons.” He took another sip of the coffee, getting used to the taste of it after a few sips. Impressive.

Majid sighed, looking over a map of the world, looking at all the crosses that dotted it. So many sights, so many similarities. Why was this place so different? Why were they all so far apart and so similar?

“How possible is it that, maybe, this was from a more ancient and advanced civilization?” Majid asked, still pondering ideas. “The statutes found already seem to indicate that something used to run through them, maybe some kind of fluid? Like oil?”

“I hardly doubt anyone back then was able to cultivate oil like we can now, let alone use it for whatever they need their statues to do.” Gervais placed the metal cup down, standing as he began to walk over towards a smaller desk full of ledgers and books. He opened one more up, looking over at the path they had taken. They were in the middle of a big dune, the nearest village being 4 kilometers away. They had a camp set up outside, with around 30 labourers who came from the village to aid with the mission. The 14 main members of the expedition were a mix of soldiers, archaeologists, rich men who paid for the trip, guides, and then himself, the keeper of the books of research and other important information.

He scoured around, inspecting where they came from and making sure the route would be okay for when they had to return back to the port.

“What god do you assume this is?” Majid asked, looking over at one of the statues recovered from outside. It was taken inside so it could’ve been dusted and it’s writing examined. None of the translators could even understand it. “It doesn’t look like it’s from any local faiths around this area. No one seems to recognise it.”

Gervais looked behind, sighing. That question perplexed him just as well.

It was a rather tall statue, standing at around 6 feet. It wore a strange robe that covered their entire body, hiding their feet. One arm was down by their side, as the other appeared to be outstretched but had been broken off halfway. The overall figure looked human in nature until you got to the head.

Instead of a head, it looked like someone had placed a squid upon the neck, as if it were a mask or some kind of hybrid. It’s brow (if you could even call it that) looked angry, almost commanding.

Gervais gulped, wondering what kind of creature this was. No kind of being appeared in any kind of historical text. Not Christian, not Judaism, not Hindu, not Islamic, and upon further research, not even a local faith in the region.

“We can only assume it’s a local faith that we haven’t ever heard about or one that’s dead. I cannot imagine who would want to worship one of...those things.” He noted, going back to his research as Majid got a closer look at the figure.

“We found more last night, they all look different in some way,” he added, trying to piece it all together. “Some were shorter, some were taller. Some had different expressions. Some appear to have bosums actually.”

“Did you really have to check all of the statues chests to realize that?” Gervais asked, raising an eyebrow and letting out a small smile.

“Ahh, so that’s what you look like when you smile.” Majid joked back, chuckling as he went back to his work. Gervais’ smile vanished swiftly, as he went back to his own work.

“I trust you two aren’t just messing about down here aren’t you?” A sudden voice said, causing the two men to jump and turn to face their superior.

The man was wearing tan coloured shorts with a short sleeved shirt on, his socks almost reaching to his knees and his boots were coated in layers upon layers of mud, dirt, and sand. His moustache took the centre stage however, seeing it was the only piece of hair on his head he could actually take care of.

“A-ah! No monsieur! Me and Majid were just having a brief jest. We were discussing the nature of these statues-”

Mathéo lifted an eyebrow “You mean the Gens de calmar?”

Majid and Gervais did their best to hide their cringe at their superiors' new name for the artifacts.

“Y-yes monsieur,” Gervais continued. “We have done more research but nothing at all comes up. No religious documents reference this site whatsoever.”

“Ah-that is where you are wrong my apprentice!” The superior replied, looking as smug as ever as an assistant wandered over towards a desk, placing down what looked like an old tablet, like the rosetta stone. However, it lacked any known language writing, and appeared to be mostly made up of pictures.

The men gathered around it, Gervais trying his best not to grope it and explore all of it’s details. Majid placed a hand on his shoulder, knowing fully well he’d damage another artifact at this rate.

“What’s even going on in this picture? It’s such an old form of art.” Majid said, asking the questions Gervais wanted to ask. “It appears to be similar to some old cave art I’ve seen before in Algeria, but there are some things I cannot recognise.”

The tablet itself appeared to be depicting a scene, with a bunch of smaller figures bowing and offering objects towards much larger figures, with lines coming out of their faces. Maybe this was a simpler way of drawing the statues? Were they offering gifts or tributes?

“Labourers found this in an old, blocked off room. It was massive, bigger than any room we have encountered before in this place. It was placed on the floor as if it were discarded by the people who last used this temple.” Mathéo replied, twisting his moustache as he looked over the table at the tablet. “It appears to be written in different forms of text, though it appears impossible to fully translate it. None of the translators could even work out what it meant.”

“...however,”

“However what, monsieur?” Gervais asked, head popping up along with Majid’s.

“If you flip the tablet over, there appears to be one small block of text written in something recognisable.”

Majid and Gervais took hold of the tablet, being careful on flipping it around and placing it flat onto the table. There it was, a small block of text surrounded by multiple blocks of unrecognisable text . Gervais still didn’t understand, but Majid’s eyes widened.

“This is Old Arabic!” He exclaimed, pointing at it and trying to read it. “It’s...very old, I can’t understand fully but, it appears to be so!”

Mathéo looked rather smug, as if he was the one who had discovered this fact. He wandered around, placing a hand on Gervais’ and Majid’s shoulders.

“Gentlemen, I believe we may be coming close to understanding this mystery. If we understand what this means, then perhaps we can understand what the other boxes mean,” He patted both men on the back, turning around as he reached over and grabbed a wooden pipe with his initials on. “I hope you two get back to doing your research, I want at least some of that text understood by sundown. We might be able to understand much, much more about the main room, and unlock its secrets”

Majid turned back, seeing his superior leave in such a pretentious fashion. He couldn’t help but scowl a bit, right before diving back into reading the box.

Gervais turned back around as well, eyebrow cocking up as he saw Majid looking deeper into the text.

“Can you read anything?” He asked, turning around and leaning on the table as he watched Majid research.

“I feel like I should be able to, it’s not hard to understand it’s just,” he paused, attempting to think of a way to explain his emotions. “It’s like if, you were to read something from, er, the old Franks. You’d be able to understand some words but the rest just appear...strange.”

Gervais nodded, going back to his desk and his journal. He’ll log this down as well, it made sense too.

“...Meshalt Segleell…”

“Hrm?” Gervais looked back at Majid, looking confused. “What did you say?”

“That’s something I can read but...I don't know if it’s a word or a name. It doesn’t sound native to the region at all!” He was perplexed, still looking at other lines on the text as Gervais turned to carry on his journal entry.

Maybe the heat is getting to my brain. Maybe I

Monsieur Leroy found something, just now. A black stone tablet of drawings from a bygone age. On the back of it? A multitude of unknown languages, with only one being legible. Monsieur Karim is studying it as I write this. He has deciphered something but it’s unsure if it’s a name, a place, a language or anything for that matter! We shall keep going until nightfall.

I can just sense treasure. I wonder how Maylis is doing.

…126 years later…

Adam was sitting at his desk, buried under books. It was a Saturday so no one was in for classes. He figured he’d use this time to understand what he was given. A laptop was open besides him as he read on and on through journal entries.

“Is this the last one?” He asked, reading the document over and over in order to try and find anything he had missed.

“YES.” The voice from the laptop said. “UNFORTUNIATLY I WAS UNABLE TO RECOVER ANY MORE. BUT I AM IN THE PROCESS OF FINDING MORE.”

He leaned back on his chair, placing the aged document down as he looked over at the photograph he was given as well. It was just as old as the document, featuring a picture of a black tablet with a drawing on one side and writing on the other. It wasn’t unusual people would ask for his services in translating old texts, but this one felt very different.

“How many people did you say survived that expedition?” Adam asked once again, getting out a magnifying glass as he looked over on the photo. An area of it was circled in a red marker. Inside the circle appeared to be a box of text that looked like Old Arabic. Why was this important?

“DOES IT MATTER?” The voice replied. A brief pause followed. “THE VILLAGERS WERE UNHARMED, BUT 10 MEMBERS OF THE EXPEDITION PERISHED AND THEIR BODIES WERE NEVER FOUND.”

“Did this Gervais fellow survive?” Adam asked.

“DO YOU ALWAYS ASK A LOT OF QUESTIONS TO YOUR CLIENTS?”

Adam held his mouth closed. He looked over the laptop. His camera was on but his client’s wasn’t. It was expected really, people did like to remain anonymous after all. But no one ever really used a voice scrambler.

“EVERYTHING HERE SHOULD BE OF SOME ASSISTANCE. THAT IS ALL YOU SHOULD KNOW.”

“...I understand. I just can’t fully wrap my head around why I need all of this just to find one person? Like, can’t I just-”

“THEIR BLOOD IS HARD TO GET. THE INFORMATION HERE SHOULD EXPLAIN THE BEST WAY TO EXTRACT IT. MY SUPERIOR SUGGESTED THAT YOU ARE THE BEST WAY TO GET WHAT WE DESIRE.”

“So, what, am I just supposed to read this and just find a way to use a syringe on them?? You’re not helping me out here.”

The voice on the laptop paused. It gave Adam enough time to look back at the photo, and then look over at the transcript of the box, which was besides the photo.

“IT’S MORE COMPLICATED. MY SUPERIOR SIMPLY WANTS TO KNOW HOW TO PROPERLY ‘DEAL’ WITH THE BLOOD. YOU PROVIDE ME THE INFORMATION AND THE BLOOD, AND YOU GET PAID.”

“What kind of being is this again? A demon? A super demon??? How am I supposed to do this without dying exactly?”

“THE BLOOD CAN RUN IN THE FAMILY. IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE PURE. AS LONG AS IT’S CONNECTED WITH HER. SHE’S ONE OF THE ONLY ONES MY SUPERIOR HAS DETECTED ON EARTH.”

Adam sighed, knowing that whilst the job was going to be hard, at least the money would be worth it...right?

“I’ll see what I can do.” Checking the time, he realized he should probably end the call soon. He was feeling hungry, and would work better without this guy’s annoying voice app distracting him. However, he paused, seeing something on the pile of documents. He reached over and picked it up. It was a similar photo, but it was a better close up of the text itself. 2 words appeared underlined. He looked back at the transcript, his eyebrow rising up curiously.

“Say, one more question about this...job. Err, this thing you sent me. It appears there was a translation error of sorts. What does this mean exactly?” He held the picture up to the camera, awaiting a response. “Segleell appears to be right, it’s the other word I’m wondering about.”

Seconds passed.

“THERE WAS A MISTRANSLATION. SORRY ABOUT THAT. THE CORRECT TRANSLATION IS KRISTA SEGLEELL.”

“THAT IS ALL.”

#{lore}#{fic}#// AAAAAAAAAAAAA #// Can you tell I love history GFDHH #// Sorry if this went off the rails! I'm open to any critiques!

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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

Text

Limitless- Chapter One

M/F Main Pairing: Y/N x Johnny Seo (M/F side pairing: Y/N x Jaehyun)

Genre: Fantasy AU, Harry Potter AU

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: Language

Summary: Y/N is a very skilled witch and, despite her fascination with the Dark Arts, reluctantly agrees to transfer schools from the notorious Durmstrang to Hogwarts for her younger step-brother’s first year. Upon her arrival, she is stunned when the sorting hat chooses Hufflepuff despite her family’s dark history. Undeterred, Y/N is determined to tolerate her fellow classmates and focus solely on her studies, her aspiration to one day become an Auror. Everything seems to be going according to plan until Y/N meets Johnny Seo, a crafty Slytherin boy who seems intent on capturing her icy heart.

Chapter One

“And now, Harry, let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure”- Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

There are very few things in this world that truly test my patience. For example, I hate the wealthy aristocrats who surround my father on a daily basis, whispering seductive promises of which they have no intention of keeping. Instead, they feigned interest in my father when, in actuality, it was his valuable alchemy skills they truly desired. In other words, I don't like it when those people pretend to be superior to another because of their status, taking advantage of their position to exercise greedy aspirations. Because it demonstrates just how manipulative they really are, lacking anything remotely genuine in their so-called “friendships” with my family. Ironically, those feelings have also impacted the relationship I share with my father, generating an unsteady hatred while he entertained their advances, even with a complete understanding of such fabricated facades.

Fortunately, in opposition to those things I despised, my step-brother wasn’t one of them. When my father decided to remarry, my initial resolution was to scorn whichever unlucky woman he was bringing into our lives, especially considering his previous toxic relationship with my real mother. Of course, I could’ve never predicted that my new step-mother would turn out to be so likable, introducing me to her quiet son, Jisung, who immediately clung to me like we had known each other for our entire lives.

Ultimately, I decided Park Jisung was a fair justification for the heavily-debated decision to exchange schools in the middle of my education. My father remained opposed since he wanted me to finish my schooling at Durmstrang, his alma-mater and a strict institution that produced some of the brightest minds in the wizarding community. It was also a school that touted its impressive Auror program, a field of interest that I wished to pursue upon graduation.

However, in light of my step-mother’s convincing argument, I decided that I would attend Hogwarts with Jisung. The argument in question, of course, heavily involves my personal history and it was simply unforgivable that Jisung might face any sort of prejudice for something beyond his control. Sadly, my younger step-brother was notoriously shy and withdrawn, and my step-mother was afraid he would be unable to protect himself. This I could not allow because, despite my initial reservations for my father’s remarriage, I had grown to care for Jisung and the thought of anyone speaking out of term enraged the fighting spirit laying dormant just beneath my veins.

“You’re very loyal, Y/N,” my step-mother said upon learning of my transfer. “Jisung is lucky to have you as a sister.”

“No, he isn’t,” I replied bitterly, especially since the blame for any misgivings rested solely on my conscience.

In any case, the exchange was finalized and I felt like a first-year myself as I walked next to my brother through Diagon Alley, searching for the supplies he required. Jisung was a brilliant child, despite his introverted nature, and he was positively squealing with excitement as we galvanized the quaint shops lining the busy streets with eager patrons. “I need an owl,” Jisung said, cheeks bright red in response to the unexpectedly frigid wind.

“You don’t want to get your wand first?”

“My wand!” Jisung repeated with a gasp. “We have to go to Ollivander’s.”

I rolled my eyes affectionately once Jisung secured a rather strong grip on my sleeve, pulling me along hastily despite his mother’s warning to keep ourselves from garnering too much attention. Of course, Jisung’s spirits were much too high to allow such a warning to dampen the rapid trot to his steps, practically skipping down the sidewalk with youthful glee.

Ollivander’s wasn’t as busy as I had initially anticipated for which I allowed a sigh of relief as my step-brother gaped at the impressive display of wands eagerly awaiting their new master. “Welcome,” a kind voice greeted our arrival. I could only assume he worked at the shop ever since it’s initial host fell victim to the aftermath of the Second Wizarding War.

“Hello,” I responded, aware that Jisung had taken to ducking behind the proximity of my robes as he peered anxiously at the shop owner. “My brother is starting his first year at Hogwarts.”

“How exciting,” the owner nodded, holding out his hand to beckon my younger brother forward. “Come here, young man.”

I gave Jisung a small push to usher him in the right direction, amused as he stumbled to the counter. “Hi,” he said in a tone bordering a whisper. Thankfully, the shop owner could hear him, offering a wide smile as he appraised my step-brother.

“What’s your name?”

“Park Jisung.”

“A familiar name,” the owner responded. “Your father worked for the ministry.”

“He did,” Jisung said, shuffling his hands together at the mention of his father.

The owner was sympathetic, clicking his tongue as he scoured the wall behind him, selecting a singular box from amongst the others. “I have something for you, Mr. Park.”

My step-brother immediately gasped, remembrances of his birth father forgotten in exchange for accepting the girthy wand from the show owner. Jisung held it firmly in one hand, eyes searching the length of the instrument through which most young wizards and witches learned to control their magic. “Try it out,” I suggested from behind him, watching carefully as Jisung waved the wand in his hand. Disappointingly, several of the boxes on the adjoining shelf were dismissed from their neat and organized stacks, falling into the floor like an avalanche in response to the wand’s opposition.

Jisung cleared his throat and returned the wand to the counter. “I’m not sure it likes me.”

The shop owner chuckled with gentle mirth, obviously having encountered several incidents with other young students. “It’s alright, Mr. Park, wands can be very temperamental when it comes to choosing the right master.” His gaze landed on me with a considerate glance. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“What sort of wand chose you?”

I swallowed hard as I pulled it from the inside of my coat. “The core is Dragon Heartstring.”

“Ah,” the shop owner acknowledged. “A very powerful core indeed. Definitely meant for someone with ambition.”

I dare not surmise the implications behind the grave look in his eyes as he turned back to the shelves, fingers tracing the numbers with precision. “Should I try something similar to Y/N’s?” Jisung asked.

“Not necessarily,” the shop owner explained, reaching for a box from the top shelf. “The wand often takes into account the personality of its chosen master. Dragon Heartstring is a core reserved for some of the most skilled witches and wizards I have ever known. Furthermore, given your...temperament....”

The box was placed in front of Jisung on the counter. “Perhaps we should try this?”

Jisung nodded, removing the lid before wrapping his slender fingers around the wand’s dark handle. He handled it with great care, waving it through the air with studious attention. I held my breath, digging my fingers into the fleece of my jacket as I observed the previously displaced wand boxes returning to their rightful places along the shelves.

“Brilliant!” the shop owner declared. “The wand has chosen you, my young friend. I hope you can perform great magic with its profound loyalty.”

Jisung smiled, turning around to beckon me forward enthusiastically. I couldn’t resist his call, moving to the counter while the shop owner processed Jisung’s new wand. “Unicorn hair,” he explained. “Mr. Ollivander himself said this core produced some of the most consistent magic he had ever seen. Additionally, it makes for a very faithful wand, extremely loyal to its chosen master.”

Jisung seemed proud of this revelation, taking the package from the shop owner while I procured the appropriate payment. “Thank you, sir,” I said, allowing Jisung to wave back at the shop owner before we returned to the streets.

“Well,” I sighed. “I suppose we should find your owl.”

Jisung nodded happily, swinging the parcel containing his new wand back and forth while he chattered excitedly about all of the interesting spells he had read about in his mother’s book. I nodded vacantly, hoping to appease his desire for conversation while navigating the complicated alleys to avoid as many people as possible. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the glares thrown in our direction meant that everyone was aware of which family we came from.

“What do you think?” I finally interrupted Jisung when we approached the owlery.

Jisung slammed his hands against the glass, startling one of the owls which turned its head to appraise the overzealous boy. “Jisung,” I scolded, but he was far too busy attempting communication with the snowy white bird watching him in turn.

“Isn’t he marvelous?” Jisung asked. “There’s so many inside! How can I pick just one?”

I opened my mouth to suggest that Jisung make a decision soon, but found myself thoroughly taken aback by the unexpected interruption of a distinctly proud passerby who apparently decided that his input should also matter. “The one in the window likes you,” the younger boy commented. “I just came from inside! Apparently, the store received a new shipment from the mountains. They got some really fast ones in the back!”

Jisung was just as startled as I was, glancing back at the newcomer with wide, uncertain eyes. “Chenle!”

“Jaehyun,” the boy pouted, crossing his arms at the appearance of his friend who was very clearly out of breath as if previously given chase to our disturbance.

“I’m sorry,” he said, clearing his throat as he fixed his younger friend with a stern glare. “What did I say about running off?”

Chenle didn’t seem concerned, shrugging vacantly in response. “I wanted to stay outside and look around.”

“He wasn’t a problem,” I interrupted, watching their exchange as I pulled Jisung closer to my side.

“Still, I should apologize since he surprised you...I’m Jaehyun by the way,” he offered with a smile. I reluctantly shook his hand, aware of his younger friend watching Jisung with unhindered curiosity.

“Y/N,” I offered in return. “This is my step-brother, Jisung.”

I reached behind me for the collar of Jisung’s sweater, pulling him into the narrow space between myself and Jaehyun in spite of his opposition. “Hello,” Jaehyun said, looking down at my brother. “You must be starting your first year.”

Jisung nodded while Jaehyun chuckled, acknowledging his friend with a fond expression. “This is my cousin, Chenle. He’s also starting his first year.”

“Really?” Jisung asked, glancing up at me as if looking for direction.

I grinned. “Jisung and I have been shopping all day for his supplies.”

“Chenle woke me up early,” Jaehyun chuckled. “He’s been too excited for me to handle. I can barely keep up with him.”

Chenle seemed to take offense to Jaehyun’s measure of him, huffing out a complaint. “You kept putting it off! We start school this weekend!”

Jaehyun rolled his eyes playfully, running a hand through his hair. “My aunt asked me to keep an eye on him when we return to the castle. Speaking of which...” Jaehyun trailed off as he squinted his eyes, confusion evident in their depths. “I feel like I would’ve noticed you before.”

“I transferred,” I replied vaguely, reaching out for Jisung’s hand. “I’m starting Hogwarts in my fifth year.”

“What a coincidence,” Jaehyun said. “It’s my fifth year as well.”

I realized at that moment that Jaehyun was completely genuine. Whether or not that implied favorable circumstances remained unclear because he must be completely ignorant of my situation, which was still an unexpected sigh of relief. Regardless, the sun was starting to set and Jisung still needed more supplies. “It was nice to meet you,” I said. “Jisung and I have more shopping to do.”

Jaehyun nodded, slightly disappointed as he took a step back. “Maybe we’ll see both of you at school?”

“That would be cool,” Jisung spoke up and I was proud of my step-brother’s confidence.

As we both turned away, Jisung tugged on my sleeve to encourage me to lean down to overhear his comment. “They were nice!” Jisung said, eyes wide with the weight of his enthusiasm.

I agreed quietly, glancing back at Jaehyun and Chenle before leading Jisung in the opposite direction.

By the time we were set to depart from Hogwarts, I had more or less forgotten about our encounter with Jaehyun and Chenle. After all, Jisung and I had bigger things to worry about, especially considering that we were both new to London’s complicated system of transportation.

“Platform 9 and 3/4,” I mumbled, searching the crowded station while trying to keep Jisung within sight. My poor step-brother was obviously nervous, head barely peeking over the trolley he pushed full of his belongings. I’m sure the sight of my step-brother with his snowy white owl perched on top of his suitcase made for an interesting display.

Unlike my previous returns to Durmstrang, Hogwarts was proving to be far more complicated. “There’s a lot of Muggles,” Jisung remarked.

“I know,” I agreed because the Muggles were making everything harder, especially when an attendant stopped to investigate the two siblings wandering aimlessly in search of their destination.

My step-mother had painted everything in such a grandiose fashion, and even I believed everything she was describing to me and Jisung on our final night at home. “The station is huge,” she said. “But it’s very beautiful, and you’ll probably meet a lot of other wizards who can help you.”

Her advice rang hollow now as I passed between platforms 9 and 10 with another tired sigh. “Maybe we should call your mother,” I said, glancing at my wristwatch to ensure we weren’t late.

“Y/N,” Jisung suddenly exclaimed, attracting the attention of a disdainful elderly couple. “Look! It’s Jaehyun and Chenle. We met them the other day shopping, remember?”

Of course, I remembered when I had to think about it with perfect clarity, but that didn’t mean I was quite as eager as Jisung when our new classmates spotted us from across the platform. I offered a half-hearted wave in response, forcing myself to straighten my posture when Jaehyun and Chenle stopped to extend a polite greeting. While my step-brother welcomed Chenle enthusiastically, I was far more cautious when Jaehyun extended pleasantries which I hesitantly returned. “Ah, it’s you,” I grumbled, aware that Jisung and Chenle had become complete professionals as they exchanged a silly handshake before giggling like schoolboys.

“I can show you,” Jaehyun whispered, pulling my attention away from my step-brother. “It can be tricky during your first time.”

I tried not to feel embarrassed when I realized Jaehyun must’ve noticed our predicament with the confusing platforms. But I wasn’t too prideful to deny his help, reaching for Jisung’s shoulder. “We’ve been trying for almost an hour.”

“That’s okay,” Jaehyun said reassuringly. “Watch me first, and I’ll wait for everyone on the other side.”

I stood aside to watch Jaehyun as he instructed. He offered Chenle a reassuring smile before jogging ahead, ignoring the surrounding attendants as he charged at the solid mass of wall defining platform 9. I wasn’t afraid for him since I knew well that Jaehyun was hardly the type to charge at things that weren’t obviously hexed by magic. Still, it was interesting to watch him disappear, leaving me alone with Chenle and Jisung. “Go ahead,” I encouraged Jaehyun’s cousin, sending him off before allowing myself and Jisung one last moment of peace. “Everything will be fine,” I reassured him. “Remember, I’m here to make sure that nothing bad happens.”

Jisung nodded, standing on the tips of his toes to allow enough leverage to minimize our height discrepancy. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said.

I nodded, stroking my fingers through his hair before pulling back. “You go through first and wait for me on the other side.”

“Okay,” Jisung said, taking a deep breath before rushing at the platform wall, appearing almost comical considering his appearance. I waited until Jisung was gone before finally adjusting my belongings and taking off in his footsteps, closing my eyes before hitting the wall. Except, there was no impact like the surrounding Muggles would think, and I opened my eyes again when I heard the sound of a train whistle.

The Hogwarts Express was waiting on the tracks, painted with a beautiful pattern of reds and golds. The enormous locomotive was rightfully imposing, looming over the mass of students hurrying to load their belongings. It was strangely exciting, and I surmised that the thought of a new adventure forced a surge of adrenaline through my body.

“Better hurry,” Jaehyun said, nodding in my direction to encourage me and Jisung to follow him. “You can sit with us.”

It seemed like an agreeable arrangement, and the four of us located an empty compartment further down the long expanse of the train. “Here we go,” Chenle said, lending a spare hand to help Jisung load his belongings onto the train.

“May I?” Jaehyun asked softly, waiting for my permission before grabbing my heaviest suitcase and lifting it onboard with relative ease. I surmised that he must be an athlete, perhaps even a Quidditch player since the sport was extremely popular at Hogwarts.

Eventually, I joined Jisung and Chenle in the compartment we claimed for ourselves, smirking when I realized that Jisung was sitting next to Chenle to admire his vast collection of chocolate frog cards. “He’s very proud of them,” Jaehyun explained as he occupied the final seat next to me.

“Jaehyun,” Chenle whined. “You’ll order us some more when the trolley comes, right?”

“Only if you’re willing to share,” Jaehyun said, nodding at Jisung who seemed surprised by Jaehyun’s gracious offer. He glanced at me for instruction and I merely offered him a curt nod.

“Of course!” Chenle agreed. “Jisung needs to start his own collection so we can trade.”

I could feel the train start to move beneath our feet and Jisung joined Chenle at the window to admire the moving scenery outside. “It’s a bit different from what you’re used to?”

I looked at Jaehyun, realizing his question was meant for me. “Oh, well I traveled much differently to attend my previous school.”

“Where did you go?”

“Durmstrang.”

“Oh!” Jaehyun acknowledged. “They have an excellent Quidditch team.”

“Viktor Krum,” I said, offering my faint knowledge of the sport, but it seemed to delight Jaehyun who was quite excited to talk about one of his favorite Seekers.

“That’s my position,” he finally said. “I was elected as Captain this year.”

“For your house?”

“Gryffindor,” he nodded. “We have a lot of good players.”

“Jaehyun’s modest,” Chenle suddenly inserted. “He’s a better seeker than Harry Potter himself!”

“Chenle,” Jaehyun chided his cousin softly before glancing at me sheepishly, but he quickly regained his bearings. “I think I heard the trolley outside.”

Chenle shot up immediately, reaching for Jisung’s hand to pull my curious step-brother out into the hallway. “I’m not that good,” Jaehyun continued with a faint blush.

I smiled at him. “Your cousin obviously looks up to you. His enthusiasm can’t be faulted.”

“He’s a little rambunctious,” Jaehyun admitted. “Hopefully, the school will help tame his excess energy.”

“It’s charming,” I said. “I wish Jisung was more like him.”

There was a few moments of silence between the two of us before Jaehyun spoke again, almost out of necessity to relieve the quiet overtaking out compartment.

“You’re both perfect,” Jaehyun said without thinking, only realizing his mistake a moment later when he quickly scrambled to rectify his wording. “Oh, but I only mean that you both have a lot of potential...well, I guess you’re obviously very smart coming from Durmstrang...”

“Don’t worry,” I interrupted, saving him from further embarrassment. “I understand what you mean.”

Jaehyun sighed in relief, looking at me with an impenetrable gaze. He opened his mouth to speak again when a sudden scuffle from outside interrupted our conversation. I frowned when the compartment door opened and I realized that Chenle and Jisung were standing in front of a taller student whose smug smile was nothing short of condescending. “I thought these might belong to you, Jung.”

Jaehyun was on his feet in an instant, reaching for Chenle and Jisung to push them safely in our compartment. “What do you think you’re doing, Seo?”

I bristled at the familiar name, connecting the origin to the same family whose descendants once served the Dark Lord himself. “I’m a Prefect this year, Jung,” he replied. “It’s my job to watch out for little troublemakers.”

“You’ll do best to stay away from my brother,” I said, sharpening my tone as much as possible. I had decided to join Jaehyun, crowding the doorway as I observed the student who dared to insinuate Jisung’s guilt. “I know very well about your family, so I suggest you keep away from mine.”

The student was visibly surprised, eyeing me up and down with blatant curiosity. “Who the fuck are you?”

“An enemy if you’re not careful,” I said.

“Johnny!” a new voice hissed, belonging to one of the other two students flanking the object of my glare. He leaned up to whisper something in Johnny’s ear and I absolutely despised the sardonic smile that brightened Johnny’s countenance.

“Interesting,” Johnny said, looking between me and Jaehyun before laughing. “I don’t have time for any friends of Gryffindor,” Johnny said, and I closed the door separating us with a warning look.

Chenle and Jisung were visibly frazzled when Jaehyun and I sat back down across from them. “Don’t worry, Sungie,” I said sweetly to my step-brother, reaching for one of the chocolate frog packs he had procured. “What card did you get?”

Jisung allowed a hesitant smile, tearing into the package at my request. “I got Dumbledore!”

“Really?” Chenle gasped, glancing over Jisung’s shoulder.

I leaned back in my seat to allow the two boys space for their game, meeting Jaehyun’s gaze steadily. “I suppose you aren’t friendly with him?”

“No, and it’s best to just ignore Johnny,” Jaehyun said with barely restrained hostility. “He has a big head because he was chosen to be a Slytherin Prefect this year. He’s also their new Quidditch captain, so we’ve always had a rivalry.”

“He’s in Slytherin?” I shivered. “I’m not surprised considering his name.”

“His friends are intolerable too,” Jaehyun said. “Yuta and Ten basically do whatever Johnny asks them.”

“The perfect lackeys,” I sighed. “I guess he had ulterior motives for messing with Chenle and Jisung.”

“He knows Chenle,” Jaehyun said. “It’s just his way of getting to me.”

“Don’t let him,” I insisted sternly. “He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.”

Jaehyun surprised me by laughing. “You know, you’ll probably be sorted into a new House like everyone else. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a Gryffindor, a natural rival of Slytherin.”

I glanced out the window, unable to find the courage to reveal a heavy truth to Jaehyun, especially considering our tentative partnership. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“I’m going to change into my robes,” Jaehyun said. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay,” I said, turning my attention instead to Chenle and Jisung’s fierce debate over their precious cards, admiring the innocence in their youthful countenances.

In any case, Jaehyun was right about the necessity of sorting me into a House. Upon our arrival, the new students were immediately grouped away from those simply returning for a new academic year. Jaehyun reluctantly left the three of us behind, offering to watch out for me in the Great Hall.

I sent him away with a wave before leading Jisung and Chenle to the curious congregation of new students. However, considering my circumstances, I wasn’t surprised when an unfamiliar professor approached me from the front of the group. “Our new transfer?” the woman inquired. I nodded in response. “Miss. Y/L/N, my name is Professor Kim, and I must insist that you follow me. The sorting hat ceremony in the Great Hall is exclusively reserved for first years.”

I sighed because I was reluctant to part from Jisung. My step-brother had unconsciously gripped tighter to the bottom of my shirt, sharing my sentiments. “Don’t worry,” Chenle said, tossing an arm around my step-brother’s shoulders. “I’ll watch out for him.”

It was a nice gesture, and Jisung seemed to relax when he realized that he would conquer the unfamiliar with a potential friend. “Thank you,” I finally whispered.

In the meantime, Professor Kim bowed her head respectfully before guiding me away from my brother and his fellow first years. I kept glancing over my shoulder, continuing to watch him until it was impossible to do so any longer. Now, I was alone with Professor Kim and we walked across the grounds with practiced steps. “We’ll take a carriage,” she said.

“Okay,” I replied, studying the Hogwarts castle from across the lake. It was quite impressive, reminding me faintly of the castle at Durmstrang. Even from my considerable distance, the light of the candles and lanterns provided a spectacle of illumination courtesy of the magic we all practiced.

“This must be ours!” Professor Kim announced, climbing up the stairs into the random carriage nestled at the shore of the lake.

I paused in my footsteps, realizing with horror what was pulling the carriage that had been provided as transportation. There wasn’t a large population of Thestrals on Durmstrang’s grounds, so I never had to worry about encountering the beast before. But this one was clearly meant to guide our remaining trek to Hogwarts, and I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the Thestral. “Miss. Y/L/N,” Professor Kim said, finally grabbing my attention.

“Sorry,” I said, hesitantly shuffling up the stairs to join her.

“You can see them,” she stated plainly and I stiffened my shoulders, expecting her to ask the dreaded question which I hated more than anything. “I can see them too,” she said, offering me an empathetic smile.

My relief was audible, thin wisps against the cool air of the night.

“I won’t say that I’m familiar with the inner workings of Durmstrang,” Professor Zhang, one of the senior professors proclaimed. “However, at Hogwarts, we sort our new students into one of the four founding Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.”

I tensed at the mention of Slytherin, gazing at the sorting hat waiting on a stool in the corner. “I understand,” I said.

“Good,” Professor Zhang enthused. “Have a seat, Miss Y/L/N, and we can establish your House.”

I reluctantly obeyed, flinching when the hat was placed atop my head. The voice was loud, thoughtfully considerate as I waited in profound expectation. “Yes, yes, great power indeed,” it said. “There’s ambition, oh yes, lots of ambition. Fitting of a Slytherin? Like your mother.”

I gritted my teeth, shaking my head subtly. “I’m not like my mother.”

“Of course not,” the hat agreed. “Because I see something bright inside of you, quite different from when I was first acquainted with your mother. A capacity for profound loyalty!”

An image of my mother raced through my head, a vision of her brilliant green eyes watching me from her stand in the Wizengamot court awaiting the summons of the surrounding witches and wizards. A sea of purple robes and hostile glares that did not hesitate to include me as a recipient because I must be like my mother. Capable of great evil, to cast unforgivable curses and spells that would leave a path of death and destruction in my wake.

“Hufflepuff!” the sorting hat declared, jostling me from that horrible memory.

I was relieved, almost reverent when the sorting hat was taken from my head. Because this proved those judgments of me incorrect, a small child who was unlucky to have such a mother who set her up for failure from the beginning. But I was not to adhere to those expectations, and every decision I made has always been to spite my mother to the best of my ability.

“Very well,” Professor Zhang said. “Somebody fetch Mr. Qian from the Great Hall. I trust that he can integrate our newest student into her House.”

“In the meantime,” Professor Kim re-emerged, making her presence known amongst the other instructors. “We’ve considered your coursework from Durmstrang, Y/N. As such, we take into consideration the courses you requested, measuring them according to your chosen career path.”

She reached into her robes, retrieving a folded sheet of parchment with a tight seal. “Our Professors worked in concert with your former instructors at Durmstrang to arrange a schedule to suit your accommodations. As Head of Hufflepuff House, you can always approach me with questions should they arise after some consideration of your new situation.”

I accepted the extended parchment. “Thank you.”

“A very admirable choice,” she said. “I know the program at Durmstrang is quite strenuous, much like our own. However, your marks were very impressive in the required courses. Perhaps you’re destined yet for the path of an Auror.”

“I’ve never changed my mind,” I told her with determination.

Professor Kim smiled. “I think, Y/N, that I’m starting to understand the sorting hat’s decision.”

The discussion ended with her statement, summoning a strange sense of belonging that I had never experienced before. Nevertheless, I was grateful that she hadn’t inquired further into a potential explanation concerning the origins of my aspirations. Because the reason I was pursuing such a tricky career was a matter that went beyond simple ambition, as the sorting hat suggested, or a desire to encounter danger.

“Mr. Qian! Prompt as usual.”

“Of course, Professor Kim.”

I studied the unfamiliar face waiting expectantly in the doorway. Surprisingly, he had yet to glance in my direction. “Y/N, this is Kun,” Professor Kim finally introduced, sweeping an elegant hand. “He’s a Hufflepuff Prefect”

Kun smiled at me. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

I nodded in return, admiring the gentle color of Kun’s eyes. “Likewise.”

“The Sorting Ceremony is starting soon,” Professor Kim said. “We’ll have to bring down the sorting hat for the first years.”

“Mr. Qian can bring you to the Great Hall,” Professor Zhang said. “He’s one of our brightest students. I trust he can leave a good impression.”

Even so, Kun was mostly quiet during our walk together to the Great Hall. He stood tall, nothing short of serious as he took his job as my escort with the utmost responsibility. The Prefect gave off the impression that he was very meticulous, and I easily surmised that he must be an older student, perhaps even in his final year.

Still, his quiet presence wasn’t enough to distract me from the fact that everyone chose to look in our direction when Kun brought me to the Great Hall. It was obvious that they were confused, wondering why Kun had disappeared only to return with a new student. Although, when they would inevitably learn my name, I was slightly afraid those innocent expressions of curiosity might turn into something much more hostile. “Relax,” Kun whispered to appease my anxiety. I sat down next to him on a long bench tucked against one of the four enormous tables, grateful that he didn’t seem burdened by my presence. “I’ll introduce you later,” Kun said.

I quietly agreed, flinching when the doors to the Great Hall reopened, inviting the first years to join the extravagant celebration. I searched the sea of excited faces, finally locating Jisung near the back of the crowd with Chenle faithfully by his side as promised. It was enough to relieve some of my tension, smiling when Jisung met my gaze, raising his hand in greeting. “Good luck,” I mouthed to my step-brother.

Jisung didn’t need luck, anyway, because he was a good kid with a kind heart and gentle soul. He would be sorted accordingly, but I still crossed my fingers that he would be able to join me at the Hufflepuff table. “Good evening, students,” a boisterous greeting rang through the quiet Hall. The voice belonged to an older gentleman, clearly designated as the Headmaster, who was appraising the squirming group of first years waiting to be sorted. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts.”

Applause greeted his words and I clapped along with everyone else. “I must extend a very special welcome to our new students. In just a short moment, you will be sorted into the House that will define your seven subsequent years attending classes at the very best magical institution in the world.”

I resisted a scoff at his words. Until I knew for myself whether or not his claim was true, my loyalty to Durmstrang was quite powerful. “Now, Professor Kai will lead the sorting ceremony.”

“Students,” a surprisingly youthful instructor began, unraveling the scroll in his hands. “When I call your name, you will come forward and I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses.”

The first student summoned had visibly blanched as he approached Professor Kai. Meanwhile, I tried to relax because I knew it would take a while to sort everyone before Jisung’s name was called. Instead, I studied the room around me, watching the other students cheer whenever someone was sorted into their House. Kun was especially loud, cheering with a high-pitched whistle which left me wondering if the Prefects were expected to be over-enthusiastic.

Yet, that sentiment didn’t exactly ring true when I found my gaze ensnared with Johnny Seo’s. He smirked in my direction, cool, dark eyes unabashedly taking me in with heavy doses. It was disconcerting, the intensity I detected in the depths of those eyes.

I pulled my gaze away, glancing over my shoulder when another student was sorted into Gryffindor. I quickly located Jaehyun who was warmly greeting his newest classmate. After a moment or two, he seemed to realize that I was looking at him, sending me a comforting smile that eased my nerves when Jisung’s name was abruptly announced.

I waited in expectation as Jisung approached Professor Kai. The sorting hat was placed on his head and only a brief moment passed before the voice loudly declared: “Gryffindor!”

Disappointment sat heavily on my chest as I watched my step-brother take trepid steps in the direction of the Gryffindor table. His eyes met mine worriedly from the distance separating us, but I only offered him a reassuring smile that seemed to placate him.

After the sorting concluded, the Headmaster reapproached the stand overlooking the crowded tables. “Let the feast begin.”

I wasn’t surprised by the display of magic that summoned immense quantities of food across the wide expanse of the table. It was very similar to Durmstrang. However, the table manners of the students who reached into the food with greedy fingers made me wince before I came to the realization that Hogwarts was much less strict than my former institution.

“Y/N,” Kun said from my side. I glanced up at him but realized he was looking across the table at two younger students. “I promised introductions.”

“Sure,” I nodded, examining the interesting characters studying me with equal interest.

“This is Lucas,” Kun said, nodding to the bigger boy who wore a boxy grin. “And Jaemin.”

I appraised the sight of Jaemin’s bright pink hair before meeting his knowing gaze. “I’m Y/N.”

“Fascinating,” Jaemin said, leaning in closer. “Where did you transfer from?”

“Durmstrang,” I said, an answer that obviously impressed both Jaemin and Lucas as they gasped in synchronization.

“What’s it like there?”

“Uh, well, we don’t exactly do this,” I said, gesturing between the tables. “There’s no sorting. We all exist under the same coat of arms, so we wear identical uniforms.”

“No Houses!” Lucas gasped. “How do you keep track of everyone?”

“What about competitions?”

I blinked at both boys while Kun chuckled. “Do you really want to overwhelm her with questions?”

“What’s the problem?” Jaemin asked. “Consider this a warm welcome, Y/N.”

It felt more like a cold interrogation, but I didn’t voice my opinions aloud. “It’s okay,” I said, choosing the amicable approach since I was expected to assimilate myself. “We don’t require Houses because our population is much smaller. Competitions are still viable, we have clubs that compete, especially when it comes to Quidditch.”

“Do you play?” Jaemin asked. “I’m trying out this year. I think I’d make a good Keeper.”

“No,” I replied. “One of my friends at Durmstrang played. He was a fairly good Seeker.”

“The best position,” Lucas said, glancing down the table at a girl with fiery red hair. “My friend is our Seeker.”

“Our House will be the best this year,” Jaemin assured me. “The House cup is as good as ours.”

“You won’t be saying that when I knock you flat on your ass, Jaemin,” a snide voice bluntly informed my new classmate.

Jaemin turned around, snapping his head to snarl in return. “We’ll see about that, Jeno. Don’t forget that you ended up in the infirmary after the semi-finals. Sure would hate to put you back there!”

“Jaemin,” Kun growled from next to me. “What happened to civil conversation?”

He was obviously talking about me, but I was much too entertained by the exchange to acknowledge Kun’s reprimand. Perhaps there was hope for these Hufflepuffs after all.

After dinner, Kun met with the other Hufflepuff Prefects and decided to escort a majority of the older students to our dormitory. “Keep up,” he told us brusquely, and I ignored his command the minute I spotted Jisung standing with Chenle outside the Great Hall.

“I’ll distract him,” Jaemin whispered, noticing my wandering gaze.

“Thank you,” I said, unhesitating as I broke away from my new classmates to approach Jisung.

“Y/N!” he grinned happily.

“You did so well,” I told him, nodding in Chenle’s direction. “I knew there was some bravery in you somewhere.”

“Yeah, but we aren’t in the same house,” Jisung said, downtrodden by the idea of our separation.

“You’ll be fine with Chenle,” I reassured my brother. “During the day, we can see each other for dinner and between classes, okay?”

Jisung sniffled but managed a nod. “Okay.”

I looked over my shoulder, finding my classmates at a complete standstill as Kun argued animatedly with Jaemin. “I have to go with my House, but I’ll find you in the morning.”

Jisung nodded and I could feel his gaze on me even after I returned, meeting Jaemin’s eyes from the front of the group. “Fine!” Jaemin sighed in exasperation. “It was only an idea.”

“A terrible one,” Kun scolded, rubbing his hands together as he apologized to our classmates. He scanned our group, locating me with a pleased smile. “Everyone!” Kun announced, ushering me closer. I reluctantly abided by his command, aware of the attention I was receiving from the others. “This is Y/N, she’s a new transfer from Durmstrang.”

Jaemin nudged me from the side, offering me a cheesy wink which I chose to ignore. The younger gave off the impression that he was overly flirtatious. “Anyway, remember to follow me closely,” Kun continued. “You know the drill.”

“Yes, sir!” Jaemin saluted with obvious sarcasm which Kun rightfully chose to ignore.

The hallways were busy, and it was almost impossible to pass between the other students without brushing arms or exchanging some sort of contact which I certainly despised. Hopefully, the Hufflepuff dormitory wasn’t an insurmountable distance from where we had left the Great Hall. In any case, I was trying to memorize the path so that I could hopefully make my way back here in the morning to find Jisung.

“Hey, Qian!”

Kun paused, shoulders stiffening as he turned to the right. I followed his gaze, frowning when I recognized Jaehyun’s enemy from the train. Johnny marched over to our group with his head held high, leading a group of younger Slytherin students behind him. “Johnny,” Kun sighed. “I can’t say that I’m glad to see you.”

“Lighten up,” Johnny smirked, tossing an easy arm around Kun’s shoulders. However, my House Prefect grimaced at the unnecessary contact but maintained a level-headed demeanor with admirable patience. “We’re both Prefects now.”

“I heard,” Kun said. “How they decided to extend the honor to you is a mystery.”

“I’m a good student,” Johnny pouted, even as his eyes remained alight with underlying mischievousness. “I heard you got a new transfer. We met on the train very briefly.”

He was looking at me now, and I met his gaze with narrowed eyes. “Y/N,” Kun said, hesitant as he stepped away from Johnny’s grip.

“Y/N,” Johnny repeated, eyeing me from head to toe. “Your family is quite famous in Slytherin.”

There were whispers behind me, but I ignored them in exchange for glaring at the boy who dared to bring up my family history. “I’m nothing like them,” I said with an icy tone to convey my seriousness.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re a perfect angel,” Johnny purred, taking a step in my direction which I immediately decided was threatening. I reached into my robes, feeling for my wand. “There’s no need for that,” Johnny said in a low tone meant for my ears only. “Just saying, you might need some allies in this school and there aren’t many people who will overlook your history. Trust me, I’m very much aware.”

He offered me a meaningful look. “Thank you for your advice,” I said. “But I’m under the impression that my loyalties will be with my chosen House.”

“How unfortunate for your little friend,” Johnny said, and I held my breath as he finally allowed some distance. It was simply unfair how easily he managed to get under my skin with just a passing comment. His smirk was arrogant, adjusting the collar of his robes before returning to his students.

“Come on, everyone,” Kun said, clearly determined to escape Johnny’s path as quickly as possible.

Still, I lingered behind, waiting until Johnny Seo was out of sight before following the rest of my new classmates with hurried steps.

#nct #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct harry potter au #nct johnny #johnny seo #johnny seo x reader #nct au #nct jaehyun #jaehyun fanfic

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pikapeppa · 4 years ago

Text

Felassan/Lavellan modern AU: Habit

Chapter 3 of Inadvisable (professor Solas AU) is posted!

In which Tamaris gets pulled into an odd conversation with a strange man named Felassan, then pulls him back into something that involves considerably less talking. 👀

Drop-dead gorgeous art by @elbenherzart!!

~3400 words; read on AO3 instead.

- TAMARIS -

Tamaris should’ve stayed home.

She propped one elbow on the cocktail table and idly looked around. The campus bar was full to bursting with faculty and grad students. Many of the grad students looked younger than her, and all of them were bright and shiny and enthusiastic about starting their grad careers.

Good for them, she thought flatly. She took a sip of her whiskey and raised an eyebrow at Athera. “You’re drinking that cider awfully slowly, considering the day you had.”

Athera sighed. “I wish I could get buzzed, believe me. But the last thing I want to do is show up at work hungover tomorrow and have Abelas — sorry, professor Abelas — thinking I’m a drunk as well as an incompetent baby.”

Tamaris curled her lip. “I still can’t believe he insisted on you calling him ‘professor’. What a dick.”

“Shh,” Athera hissed. She elbowed Tamaris. “Keep your voice down! He might be here. Or one of the other faculty will hear you.”

“I don’t give a shit who hears me,” Tamaris said.

“Okay, then you can find me another research coordinator job at this university,” Athera said brightly. “Make sure it’s a history or social studies lab, though. I’m a little rusty in my organic chem. I wouldn’t want to go blowing up a building by accident or something.”

Tamaris rolled her eyes. “All right, all right, I get it.” She sipped her drink again, then glanced at Nare, whose big blue eyes were scanning the room as though she was looking for someone. She was also already nursing her second cocktail of the night, which was unusual for her.

Tamaris nudged her. “What’s up with you?”

Nare glanced at her. “Hm? What do you mean?”

“You’ve been weird all afternoon since you got home from the museum,” Tamaris said. “Did you have an artistic epiphany or something while you were there?”

Nare smiled distractedly, but her eyes were still shifting around the room. “Uh… um, no. It was a good exhibit. You should go.”

“I will,” Tamaris said. “But seriously, you’re being cagey as fuck.”

Athera snorted a laugh, and Nare finally turned to face them fully. “I’m not being cagey!”

“You are too. You look like you’re being hunted,” Tamaris said matter-of-factly. “Or like you’re hunting for someone. I can’t decide.”

Athera pulled a little face. “You are acting kind of weird, lethallan. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Nare said brightly. “Just excited! First day jitters, you know. Almost first day, I mean.”

“Uh-huh,” Tamaris said. She eyed Nare skeptically, then tilted her head. “I like your dress.”

Nare smiled and smoothed a hand over the short flowy skirt of her cranberry-red dress. “Thanks! It’s my favourite.”

Athera brushed a bit of lint from Nare’s shoulder. “Isn’t this the one you usually wear on first dates?”

“You’re right, it is,” Tamaris said. She raised her eyebrows at Nare. “Why are you wearing your sexy first-date dress?”

Nare scoffed. “You guys are such stalkers. It’s not a first-date dress, it’s a confidence dress.”

Athera shrugged affably. “Red is the colour of confidence.”

“Exactly,” Nare said. She took another sip from her drink — more of a gulp, really — then looked at Athera. “So you didn’t meet Solas today at the lab, then?”

“No, but Merrill said he should be here tonight,” Athera said. “That would be nice if you met him tonight, hey? Get it out of the way so it’s not so nerve-wracking tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Nare said, and she drained the last of her drink.

Tamaris narrowed her eyes at Nare, but before she could pick on her some more, Athera straightened up and tapped Nare’s arm. “Oh, speaking of Merrill, she’s over there with Dagna and Tamlen! Come on, you should meet them. I’ll introduce you guys.” She looped her arm through Tamaris’s elbow, but Tamaris balked.

“You go ahead,” she said. “I’ll wait here.”

Athera’s face fell. “Why? You should come meet them! We’re probably going to end up spending a lot of time hanging out with them.”

Tamaris shook her head and extracted her arm from Athera’s grip. “It’s all right. You guys go have your ancient Elvhen lab chat. I’ll be here.”

“Seriously, Tam, are you okay?” Nare asked.

Her expression was apologetic, and Tamaris frowned. Nare and Athera both knew she hated making small talk with strangers. “I’m fine,” she said testily. “Why are you asking?”

Nare pulled a little face. “I don’t know. I just… now I feel kind of bad dragging you here.”

Tamaris gave her a chiding look. “Don’t feel bad. It’s fine. You meant well.” She rolled her eyes. “Getting the fuck out of the house is apparently good for people sometimes.”

Nare smirked, then squeezed her arm. “All right, we won’t be gone long.”

Tamaris nodded and watched as Athera and Nare slipped away into the crowd. She sighed and finished her whiskey, then leaned her elbows on the table and watched the new students chattering with each other and making nervous attempts to talk to the faculty members.

“Well, you look out of place.”

Tamaris rolled her eyes at the strange male voice. Some men just couldn’t get the hint to fuck off even if it was practically stamped across the back of her leather jacket.

She glanced dismissively at the man who’d spoken to her, then paused in surprise. He was a tall lean elf with unusual violet eyes and a cocky little smirk. But it was his hair that really surprised her. His midnight-black hair was long and lustrous, probably longer than Tamaris’s if it was loose, but it was pulled into a neat bun at his nape, with two understated braids that coursed from his temples back into the bun: a style that was both classic and foreign.

“Like you should talk,” she said. “You’re from Arlathan, aren’t you?”

The stranger smiled. “What gave me away? The accent? The sense of superiority?”

Tamaris smirked despite herself. “Definitely the accent. The superiority hasn’t reared its head yet.”

He chuckled and stepped a little closer to her. “Yet, you say? I’ll keep that in mind and try to hide it for as long as possible.”

She huffed. “Don’t bother. If you’re an asshole, might as well just admit it up front.”

“But then you would stop talking to me,” he said.

“Yeah, I would,” she said bluntly. “It would save us both a lot of time.”

His smile widened, and he held out his hand. “Felassan.”

She hesitated for a second, then shook his hand. “Tamaris.”

“Tamaris,” he said slowly. He released her hand. “That’s a classic Elvhen name. Do you know what it means?”

Oh boy, she thought ruefully. “Let me guess: you’re going to tell me,” she drawled.

“I could, if you like,” he said.

She eyed him skeptically, then turned to face him and folded her arms. “Go on, then. Tell me.”

He leaned casually against the cocktail table and folded his arms as well. “‘Tamaris’ means ‘my forever second’. The meaning is not unlike ‘best friend forever’ or ‘partner forever’.”

Tamaris barked out a rough little laugh. “What a line. How lucky for you that it doesn’t mean something unflattering like ‘thorny weed’.”

“It is lucky, isn’t it?” Felassan said pleasantly. “But then again, one man’s weed is another man’s favourite flower.”

She stared at him incredulously. That was smooth as hell. How had he come up with that response so fast? “I’m sorry, who the fuck are you?” she asked. “Are you a student?”

He lifted one eyebrow. “Do I look like a student?”

“No, actually,” Tamaris said. “You’re dressed like shit compared to everyone else here.” To be fair, Felassan wasn’t badly dressed; his black jeans and Converse sneakers were well-fitted and clean, and his Veilfire t-shirt was also a flattering fit that showcased his lean but muscled chest. All the same, he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt when every other man in the room was wearing blazers or collared shirts.

He snickered. “I could say the same about you. I don’t see any other women here in combat boots.”

“Well, I’m not a student,” Tamaris said.

“Neither am I,” Felassan said. “Not anymore.”

“Oh,” Tamaris said. “Congratulations.”

He tilted his head. “Why do you say that?”

“I…” She trailed off, feeling a little nonplussed. “I assumed you finished your degree.”

“What degree do you assume that I finished?”

“Uh… fuck, I don’t know.” She stared at him with growing bemusement. “Did you finish a degree?”

“I did, in fact,” he said. “I finished my PhD two years ago.”

“Oh,” she said again. Then she frowned at him. “Then why the fuck were you giving me such a hard time about saying congratulations?”

He smirked. “For the pleasure of seeing the confusion paint your pretty face.”

She stared at him for a second longer, then scoffed. “Fuck’s sake. You’re a real menace, you know that?”

“Thank you,” he said cheerfully. “I try my hardest.”

She huffed in amusement and reached for her whiskey glass, then realized it was empty. Felassan nodded his chin at her glass. “Would you care for another?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Should I not be talking to you?” he asked.

She shrugged. Now that he was talking to her, she didn’t really mind, but it didn’t explain what had brought him over in the first place. “I don’t exactly look inviting,” she said.

“That’s true,” he agreed.

“So what then?” she demanded. “Why did you bother me?”

“Because I like the look of your face,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “My face? You mean my resting bitch face that you totally ignored?”

He smiled, but his tone was serious. “I mean that you weren’t smiling. Yours was the only face in this crowd that wasn’t smiling.”

She shot him a look of rebuke. “So what, you came over here to make me smile? Did you think smiling would make me more pretty?”

“You mistake my meaning,” he said. “You were not smiling, but you looked as if you were seeking a reason to smile.”

Something in her belly twisted uncomfortably. She huffed and looked away from him. “Aren’t you a fancy fucking fortune-teller.”

“Not at all,” he said. “Just someone who recognizes the feeling.”

She glanced at him once more. For the first time since he’d come over to her, his expression was completely serious.

She dropped his gaze again and shrugged. “All right. I could use another drink.”

A small smile lifted his lips, and he gallantly ushered her to the bar. A minute later, he handed her a glass of whiskey before lifting his own.

“Enansal’in,” he said. “Or ‘cheers’, as you would probably say.”

“Cheers,” she said. She tapped her glass to his, then eyed him as she sipped her drink. He was undeniably smooth, which instantly made her suspicious. He’d also obviously been watching her, since he knew exactly what she’d been drinking.

Some women might find it charming. Tamaris found it creepy. On the other hand, he was hot and clever, and she hadn’t had sex since she and the girls had moved to Orlais a few months ago. And if Felassan wasn’t a student anymore, she probably wouldn’t get stuck running into him through Nare or Athera.

She gulped down the rest of her drink, then placed her glass on the bar. “Do you smoke deep mushroom?”

He grinned. “Deep mushroom isn’t legal in Orlais.”

“I don’t give a fuck what’s illegal in Orlais,” she retorted.

Felassan chuckled. “You really are my kind of woman.”

She scoffed. “Come on, then,” she said. She pushed away from the bar and headed for the door, and a minute later, they were standing against the wall in the empty alley beside the campus bar.

Tamaris pulled a joint of elfroot and deep mushroom from her purse and deftly lit it, then offered it to Felassan. He took it with a smile and brought the joint to his lips, then took a deep drag and released the smoke in a series of perfect rings.

“Show-off,” Tamaris accused.

He treated her to another handsome grin, then handed her the joint. “Where do you hail from, then, if you smoke deep mushroom with such impunity?”

“Kirkwall, most recently,” Tamaris replied.

He nodded. “Ah, Kirkwall. I’ve heard tales. Is it true that it’s possible to get anything there if you know the right people?”

Tamaris huffed in amusement. “Pretty much, yeah.” She took another drag of deep mushroom and handed him the joint, then eyed him thoughtfully as he smoked it. “You’ve never been there, then?”

He shook his head and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Orlais is the only place I’ve been since leaving Arlathan.”

Tamaris nodded slowly. “Orlais is… honestly, there are better places to visit. You should travel more.”

“Are you well-travelled?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t say that, really, but I’ve visited a few places,” she said. “Rivain, Antiva, a few of the Free Marcher states…”

Felassan raised his eyebrows. “That sounds well-travelled to me. You have been many places more than I.” He held out the joint.

Tamaris took the joint and brought it to her lips. “Our reservation is just east of Starkhaven, so it’s pretty well-situated for making trips along the east coast.”

“Reservation?” Felassan said. “You’re Dalish, then?”

Tamaris frowned. She hadn’t meant to tell him that. She didn’t usually like getting into the ‘are you actually Dalish’ conversation with strangers.

Serves me right for smoking deep mushroom with a stranger, she thought ruefully. She took another deep drag, then held out the joint to him. “Yeah. I’m really Dalish. This vallaslin isn’t just a ‘cute aesthetic’.”

Felassan nodded thoughtfully. “That tattoo means something to you.”

“Of course it does,” she said. Then she gave him an appraising look. “I’m kind of surprised you don’t have vallaslin.”

He smiled slowly before exhaling a mouthful of smoke. “Why is that?” he asked.

“Vallaslin is an ancient Elvhen tradition,” she said. “I thought you Arlathani elves knew those traditions better than we do.”

He laughed softly and handed her the joint. “I would no more compare Dalish and Arlathani traditions than I would compare a dragon and a lizard.”

Tamaris narrowed her eyes. “And who’s the lizard in this scenario? Us or you?”

“Either,” Felassan said. “Take your pick. The dragon and the lizard are so far removed as to defy comparison.”

Tamaris lifted her chin. “You’re telling me you don’t think the dragon is more powerful than the lizard?”

He gazed at her in silence for a moment before replying. “I’m saying there might be a reason I am still in Orlais even though I finished my degree two years ago.”

Tamaris studied him wordlessly. His lips were curled at the corners with humour, but there was something about his eyes on her face that felt… piercing, somehow. Like he was seeing more on her face than just her vallaslin.

She looked away from him and took one last deep drag from the joint, then dropped the butt on the ground. She blew out the smoke in a long exhale, then turned back to Felassan.

She stepped very close to him and curled her fingers in the fabric of his t-shirt, and a wicked smile lit his face. “Is there something I can help you with?” he said.

His voice was laced with mischief and a hint of heat, and a little seed of lust bloomed deep in her belly. “Yes,” she said, and she kissed him.

His lips parted beneath hers, and Tamaris dipped her tongue into his smoke-perfumed mouth. His hands rose to cradle her neck before sliding into her hair, and Tamaris savoured the warmth of his palms on her scalp.

Felassan’s tongue slid smoothly around her own, a slow heated caress inside of her mouth, and Tamaris was surprised to feel her shoulders relaxing at the slow and soothing movement of his mouth over hers. Then his fingers tightened in her hair, and he gently tugged her head back.

She gasped as a rush of lust fanned through her body. A second later, she was pressed against the cool alley wall with Felassan’s hands in her hair and his mouth at her throat.

She gasped again and clenched her fingers in his shirt. His teeth and lips were trailing slowly along the tendon in her neck with a torturous sort of delicacy, and the frantic pulse between her legs was a total mismatch with how slowly and carefully he was kissing her neck.

He lapped gently at her neck, and she dragged in a breath. “F-fuck,” she whimpered.

He dropped another tantalizing kiss on her throat, then leaned away slightly and stroked her neck with his palms. “Tamaris, I thought you should know. I… don’t make a habit of this.”

“A habit of what?” she panted.

“Kissing strangers in alleyways outside of bars,” he murmured.

She scoffed. “Uh-huh.”

He quirked one eyebrow. “You don’t believe me?”

“With how smooth you are?” she said archly. “Of course I don’t fucking believe you.” Not that it mattered whether this was a habit of his or not; she was primed and ready for him, and she didn’t care if she never heard from him again after this, not if he was able to fuck her as well as he kissed.

He smiled slowly and stepped even closer to her — close enough that the hard ridge of his groin was pressing against her belly. Her eyelids fluttered at the feel of his hardness, and he chuckled softly. “I can understand your suspicion,” he murmured. “Words are cheap and easy, aren’t they?”

She nodded distractedly, and Felassan tilted her chin up with one hand. “This is a conundrum, then. How to convince you that I’m not the playboy that you take me for?”

“I don’t care if you’re a playboy,” she panted.

He brushed his lips over hers. “I do,” he whispered. He kissed her softly, then coaxed her lips apart with little careful laps of his tongue before sealing his lips over hers.

Tamaris whimpered, but the sound was muffled by his tongue sliding smoothly along the length of hers. He was so gorgeous, and his kisses were so careful and delicious, and when was the last time anyone had kissed her like this? That anyone had taken the time to really kiss her, like the kissing in itself was an act worth enjoying in its own right rather than the necessary prelude to something more?

Not that she didn’t want more – gods, did she ever want more. And her apartment was just a fifteen-minute walk down the street…

She gripped Felassan’s hips and pressed herself firmly against his front. He broke their kiss and groaned: a gorgeous, bone-melting sound that trickled down her spine and lit a fresh pulse of desire through her core.

Then he released her and stepped away.

She stared breathlessly at him. His cock was a visible ridge in his pants, and he was smiling broadly.

“Goodnight, Tamaris,” he said. “It was a pleasure to meet you.” He bowed his head politely, then turned and walked away.

Tamaris watched in disbelief as he turned the corner and disappeared. By the time she was able to move her lust-paralyzed limbs and step out of the alley back onto the street, he was gone.

Un-fucking-believable, she thought. She stood on the sidewalk for a second, torn about what to do next. Should she go home and get herself off, or should she go back into the campus bar and get rip-roaring drunk by herself? She honestly couldn’t decide which option was more tempting or pathetic.

She sighed heavily, then pulled her phone out of her purse to find a number of texts from Athera.

-Athera 22:37- Where are you? Did you go home?

-Athera 22:37- Nare abandoned me to talk to someone else lol

-Athera 22:45- Taaaaaaaam don’t ghost me ilu ToT

-Athera 22:48- Seriously though I should probably get going soon, early work tmr ugh. Are you guys gonna come home with me? Hot choccy when we get home? I’ll make it :3

That was about ten minutes ago. Tamaris sighed and shoved back her hair, then tapped out a reply.

-Tamaris 22:58- Just outside for some air. Coming back in

She dropped her phone back in her purse, then realized something: neither she nor Felassan had thought to get each other’s phone numbers.

She froze for a second, then laughed bitterly to herself. Of course she hadn’t gotten his phone number. And of course she hadn’t gotten any sex. That was just her luck.

“Fuck’s sake,” she muttered, then shoved open the door to the campus bar and went back inside.

#felassan #felassan/lavellan #felassan x lavellan #inadvisable #professor solas au #pikapeppa writes #elbenherzart

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suburbiashq · 4 years ago

Photo

cassel resident : isidore castillo.

full name. . isidore estevan castillo. age. thirty birthdate. november 11th, 1990 zodiac. scorpio. gender. male pronouns. he/him occupation. tattoo artist & manager of ink anchor. lives in. miller park.

about isidore castillo.

Birth - Teenage Years

Though he was born in a different part of Illinois, most of Isidore’s childhood had him growing up right in the small city Cassel. He was beginning the second grade when his single mom made the choice to leave the busier city life behind and settle down in her own hometown, near her parents; and end the financial struggling that had been a focal point of Isi’s life until coming to Cassel. His dad was out of the picture and had been for a few years - he was never told why, or what happened, and couldn’t bear the look on his mother’s face when he asked. So, a mystery it would remain, a singular trait that would the two together in likeness the older Isidore got.

So, Isidore was 8 and growing quickly every year, existing in a quiet town full of quiet people and plenty of rules. Like many of the other families, he found himself settled into a church pew with his hair combed and slicked, next to his mother and grandparents. He’d never been a bad child… just, perhaps, a bit more wild than the limits of the town would have preferred to allow him. Authority was something to be challenged, and rules were in place to question, and the child never once stopped asking why.

Teen - Young Adult

Highschool brought on a new slew of problems for the young man. He stopped attending church, finding little value in the teachings and scripture, and rejected many of the stereotypical norms that were enforced in Cassel. He liked nicotine, and late night drives in his mom’s car, he liked weed and loud music. He hated math and science, he didn’t like bullies, and stupid teachers. Isidore wasn’t afraid to voice his disinterest in things, and it got him into minor trouble a handful of times. When Isi liked someone, he told them, and he stood up for the underdogs when he could. There was always a fine line between bad and good, and most days, Isi felt he tettered right along the edge of it, unsure which way he would sway on any given day.

As an average student, Isidore graduated from Highschool with nothing special on his record, but nothing too damning. Rage was a daily battle, always fuming beneath his quiet but firm surface, and it was actually one of the pastor’s suggestions that he give the military a shot. “It will teach you obedience, and honor, and how to control your emotions,” He was promised, so at the fresh age of 19, Isidore enlisted into the marines. Never a man to be afraid, Isidore signed on for a 6 year contract… but would only end up serving for 5.

Being A Marine

At first, the Corps were all Isidore had needed. There was something to feel passion for, pour all of his energy into, and it helped in his own life, too. With the men he trained with, Isidore felt he belonged more than he did in the sleepy Cassel town, and he could smoke and drink and curse up a storm without guilt. Leaving his mom was hard, but she had been dating a man seriously, and Isidore felt he was leaving her in good hands, especially when news of their pregnancy was soon announced after he left for his training. Plus… he got to travel, leaving Illinois for the first time in his life.

Isidore got to live in North Carolina, then Japan, briefly Hawaii, before returning to Japan again by his 4th year enlisted. He called home frequently, in the beginning, but never returned for a visit… and slowly, the calls became fewer and far between. When he sent the news to his family, she was eager to tell anyone who listen - her baby boy was engaged, the woman a Japanese beauty, and it seemed all was going so well for the Marine. Finally, Isidore had found his purpose, right?

Unfortunately, few knew what happened behind the scenes. Isidore loved the water, the sea, the smell of salt in the wind, and found himself comfortable in an engineering position on ships, enjoying the artistic craft of the machines. But he did not go without trouble, even in the Corps, and had a list of write-ups and disciplinary actions in his file. He was less than a year from completing his 6-year contract, when Isidore stormed off from the unit, and refused to complete the contract. His reasoning was inconsolable differences with his superiors, but deep down, Isidore had realized that he was making enemies, and that his home with the Marines no longer felt safe and comfortable. His plan was to accept the consequences for abandonment, marry his lady, and live in Japan-

But like all good things, that, too, ended. While he was busy with work, the love of his life was busy in social scenes, and when the truth came out, Isidore gave up on that future, too. When he parted ways, something changed within him. That passion burning, the fire fueling, it began to die out.

Coming Home

Cassel was the only place Isidore knew to return, after trying to settle back down in North Carolina unhappily, he made the sheepish trek back to his original home. He didn’t want to burden his family by staying with his mom and his step-dad and his sisters (one half-sister, and a step-sister), so he briefly stayed with his grandparents. It was Isidore who realized they were getting too old to live alone, and it was Isidore who helped them transition into an elderly home, and he chose to stay in their house. It was small, quaint, quiet, and starting to fall apart - so Isi spent his days repairing it.

Those who remembered him, were surprised by the change. He wasn’t so outspoken, so obvious with his anger, and far less charming and mischievous… but something remained the same. Isidore was mysterious as ever, choosing what information he divulged carefully. The dark clothing and drinking didn’t fit into the role most mid-20 year-old men were meant to play, and his tall frame in a church pew was unheard of now.

A couple of years after returning home, Isidore stepped into an apprentice role as a tattoo artist. He’d always loved drawing, art, and all things creative; and the town was hurting for a good artist. He was a quick learner, and dedicated to the new passion, and easily became a staple to the tattoo shop.

The Present

He has been home in Cassel for nearly five years now. Isidore is close with his family, spends a lot of time working and constantly repairing his grandparent’s home, and takes weekend trips to Chicago frequently to go boating out on Lake Michigan or simply enjoy the breezy beaches, imagining a past life he had left behind. Casey Andrews was a close friend of his step-sister, and when she disappeared, Isi couldn’t deny his interest in the case, feeling a flicker of a burn of something more-

The motorcycle gang has also been a sort of new home to him, more recently. They call him the baby, the youngest of the crew, but with eyes that have seen equal trouble than even some of the older guys. Isidore likes their company, the feel of the wind and the speed on his back as he races down country roads, and he doesn’t mind the whispers of the town. Not anymore. Plus, if anyone can get to the bottom of the Missing Casey Andrews, isn’t it them?

five songs. war child ( hollywood undead ) / the past should stay dead ( emarosa ) / colors ( halsey ) / sweater weather ( the neighborhood ) / suburbia ( troye sivan )

↳ isidore castillo is faced by jamie lorente and penned by kuromi.

#c #isidore castillo #player : kuromi #jamie lorente fc

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lunelantern · 5 years ago

Text

~~~Sasuke and Sakura are neither

TOXIC nor ABUSIVE~~~

✒️✒️✒️✒️✒️✒️✒️✒️✒️✒️✒️✒️✒️✒️✒️✒️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️💞💞🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️💞💞💞💞🌩️🌩️🌩️

[... In response to "Sasusaku is toxic

/abusive" trope]

While I do respect every individual's legitimate right and entitlement to freedom of expression - - everyone is free to like or dislike hate or love something - - I feel that there is a popular misconception that's been segregating through the millieu of the critics of the Sasusaku pair which begs to be cleared.

Touting sasusaku as "toxic or abusive" comprises one of the most cliché popular catchphrase to counter argue against this pair and it denotes superficial, unsophisticated and inconsequential understanding of the characters' inner construction and manga symbolism.

Common logic lets us ample room to explore beyond reasonable doubt the repertoire of this absurd stereotype for, in order to be dubbed as "toxic or abusive", this relationship must meet THREE sine qua non criteria:

1. Sasuke and Sakura must BE in a relationship;

2. Sasuke and sakura must have a RELATIONSHIP;

3. Sasuke and Sakura's relationship must be ABUSIVE/TOXIC.

A single aperçu of the three aforementioned criteria that have to be met simultaneously is irrefragible for any argument in favor of "abusive or toxic relationship" for it's crystal clear that the Sasusaku couple dynamics does not validate any of the three.

A Cartesian analysis of the three conditions supported by descriptive manga examples would further emphasize that Sasuke and sakura are a far cry from abusive or toxic.

1 & 2) Common logic postulates that, in order to be ascribed to a certain condition or situation, you overtly must BE in that situation or must take part in that situation or must be an ACTOR of that situation. For instance, in order to take your spouse's surname after marriage you must be married first.

Years prior his long stroll to soul and honor redemption, sasuke and sakura are in NO RELATIONSHIP whatsoever.

Sasuke himself whisks away any wasp of looming confusion in front of the Gates of the Leaf that he does not desire Sakura's companionship because this is "MY journey to redemption and MY sins have nothing to do with YOU", implying that he KNOWS what Sakura desires and expects from him and his current self cannot give her what she wants.

Sasuke's shenanigans won him the title of a disimpassioned untutored novice in the art of intimacy and romance, which isn't the case.

Sasuke is perfectly aware of what romantic love and intimacy entitled and his actions speak for themselves; he bluntly and expressively brushes off any extraneous attempt at luscious and sensuous flirt from women - - which are overflowing in the manga - - and utters words from the same semantics when he refers to Sakura, with such implacable bluntness and confidence that sends shivers rolling along our spines - - he placates Kakashi's desperate words with a forward "play at ROMANCE" and "I don't have a reason to LOVE her and she doesn't have a reason to LOVE me". His words are explicit, uncensored, forward and crystal clear.

Sasuke knows what Sakura desires from him in the cusp of romantic love; she desires his heart as devolution and communion, and she desires his body as intimate caress. He acknowledged and accepts Sakura's romantic feelings, but the he doesn't surrender himself to her as long as he considers himself UNWORTHY and completely unprepared to respond.

Conclusively, Sasuke and Sakura officialize their relationship and ARE in a relationship from the moment when both the leading parties are WORTHY, willing and prepared to give each other the love and respect that they both deserve and seek for.

So, in order to be considered as a leading party of an abusive relationship, one must BE part of that relationship first-hand.

Which means that the first criteria to be met is that Sasuke and Sakura must BE in a relationship.

Now, reviewing Sasuke's sophistic and philosophical construction as the Schopenhauer-ish stylized anti-hero and the paradigm of nihilism/pessimism - - the Yin part of the Manga and its political doctrine - - his sensuous manga dynamics wending through the lights and shadows of fulminant and conflicting psychological and philosophical turmoil and imbroglios makes Sasuke's character difficult to grasp for the large audience.

Because it's difficult to identify with an anti-hero that pulverizes all the hive mentalities and society's stereotypes. Sasuke is complex, is analytical and introspection must be used for revealing the exuberant depths of this complex character.

Sasuke's ambivalent and expressive radical actions can easily be mistake for active and passive aggressiveness but this isn't the case with Sakura.

I dare to venture as far as to contend that Sasuke and Sakura have never been friends. While Sakura's symbolism and character development denotes romantic love and intimacy in her heart-tucking passionate surrender and boundariless affection, Sasuke thinks of his bind with Team seven as the pilifered picturesque portrait of his family, with naruto in the shoes of a brother, Kakashi as the fatherly figure of mentorship and Sakura's ineffable crystal romantic love and devotion as the pillar figure of matriarch/a wife.

Neither Sakura nor Sasuke ever saw each other through the platonic prism of friendship, not even during the forced cohabitation of Team 7.

Sasuke's in instinctive laconic, terse and breviloquent attitude is erroneously mistaken for aggressiveness which only demonstrates improper understanding of his manga symbolism.

Not only Uchiha Sasuke is the paradigm of the Left wing of the manga's two political doctrines and the pioneer of nihilism or pessimism as a philosophical movement, but he also embodies the condition of the GENIUS. The self-reflective philosopher, the thinker, the introspective brilliant mind who's conniption and kinesics are often misread by normal people.

Part 1 Sasuke parts ways with Sakura in a completely idillic picturesque scenery that overflows with pure emotion and intimacy as it suggests that the two lay their farewells as lovers.

During their interactions, Sasuke's kinesics have always been dulcet, more tempered, softer and more suave with Sakura.

She managed to steal from him rare moments of sweetness and affection, culminating with two meaningful words from the elusive and introvert Sasuke which are illustrative for his overt fondness and gratitude for this girl's feelings - - he said "thank you" from the bottom of his heart.

And parted on good terms as Sasuke leaves the village (thus he turns against the current political ninja system) and starts his sojourn through the maze of life's tumult that's sprinkled with cruel and brutal faces of the ugly reality of the world (he steps out of the comfort zone and security of the village and experiences real life).

It also marks the young boy's end of childhoods blissful innocence and the bloom of puberty.

Now, from between these two milestone moments that harmoniously and symmetrically conclude the philosophy of the manga, (Sasuke's departure in Part 1; the Sign of Reconciliation after Sasuke and Naruto's battle of ideologies), Sasuke's soohistic character finds its fulminant paintbrushing with lights and shadows and his symbolic actions crayon the tragic exuberance of his anti-hero dynamics and development.

He and Sakura are absolute STRANGERS while Sasuke's character unfolds in all the splendor of his complex glory. They are in no relationship whatsoever.

The tragi-comedy of this tumultuous pair is that Sasuke HIMSELF makes it perfectly clear what he and Sakura are with illustrative and more than self-sufficient phrases: "I am a FORMER Team 7 member", "I am NOT part of this team anymore" and even going as far as to acknowledge Sai's renewed role as "my REPLACEMENT".

Moreover, after Sasuke's conjecture affiliation with Akatsuki, he and Sakura can be officially considered enemies and both act accordingly. Sasuke becomes an international criminal under the direct order to be annihilated in the spot. Sakura, as a faithful shinobi that's fully committed to the military discipline of her job launches to eliminate Sasuke as per order of her superiors while Sasuke obviously retaliates in self-defense.

Sasuke and Sakura, by the time Sasuke's character unfurles uncensored in all the full splendor of his lights and shadows, DON'T find themselves in a relationship and they share NO RELATIONSHIP whatsoever. NONE!

As a pair, Sasuke and Sakura made amends with their romantic feelings in part 1 before their departure and they KNOW it. Sasuke tries to sever his past bonds and start anew and Sakura tries to do just as so and both FAIL.

Which annuls the seemingly assertion that Sakura herself acts like she's trapped into a twisted variation of the Stockholm syndrome (then victim starts to feel fondly for her captor and even acquiesces to his mentality, as a consequence of the brain's innate copying response calls for the development of a mechanism of defense).

And even if suppressed and denied, feelings churn deep inside their hearts, even if their heated stares and honey-poison infused words barely makes their inner tempest, officially and how they ACT makes it perfectly clear that are NOTHING to each other. To ARE NOT in a relationship and they have NO RELATIONSHIP.

Which automatically invalidates that Sasusaku are overall in a toxic relationship.

3) Let's consider the semantics of Toxic and abusive relationship.

Because both the concepts borderline the crimes and felonies in the Criminal Codes, it's imperative to postulate that the two refer to psychological and physical REPEATED actions that are meant to subdue and quench the victim's freedom and Will (sexual freedom, freedom of speech, of expression, of movement...).

Abuse can be both physical and psychological with actions to sustain and reveal that the victim is subjected to regular abuse (the crime is repetitive and habitual) with the purpose of INFLICTING TERROR, fear and coercition.

The victim of abuse is terrified as she undergoes major psychological trauma, in response to the violent and COERCITIVE actions of the one who abuses her.

Abuse is defined as inflicting pain, teror, fear, to subdue, to surmount and crush the freedom of spirit, to prevent the victim to manifest and take action, to denigrate the spirit and transgress fundamental human rights, which are all grave crimes punishable by the Criminal legislations.

The victim is weakened and terrorized, she fears the one who abuses her and she finds herself in the illusory trap of the Stockholm syndrome in order to develop a copying mechanism to ensure the physical and psychological trauma and survive.

Where exactly does the Manga depict such distraught, coercitive and abusive behavioral traits in regards to Sasuke and Sakura as an official COUPLE?

Nowhere, naturally.

Whenever Sasuke and Sakura physically or psychologically clashed, they were both in their roles of shinobi/enemies. They never violently collided as lovers.

Sasuke and Sakura are both prideful full-fledged shinobi, understanding perfectly well the inner conflict and the displayed course of actions that this dichotomy entitles.

When in the shoes of the shinobi, personal feelings must be set aside. They both know it. Sakura and Sasuke, even if they love ecah other romantically, they must forgo their feelings in lieu of assuming their role as the shinobi.

Plus, Sakura is not depicted as bring feareful of Sasuke, au contraire she lunges onwards and alone with total intent to kill him. That's antithetical to how a victim of abuse acts.

She's confident in her skills, she's calm, analytical, level-headed, lucid, determined, strong, and mentally not feareful of Sasuke. She doesn't fear him even though his reputation strikes terror amidst the general audience.

She doesn't even wavers before him after she learns that he faced 5 Kage and killed the shrawdy enigmatic Shimura Danzo! What makes Sakura falter is the product of genuine love, not abuse or fear.

Sasuke doesn't repeatedly try to strike fear or coerce Sakura, he doesn't corner her, he doesn't try to abuse her mentally or physically, he doesn't enslave her. He only retails accordingly. His words or actions invalidate any form of abuse.

They are both shinobi, they acknowledge each other's skills and act accordingly. Neither abuses the other one in any way.

Now, I can imagine how this wrong assertion could work, namely, if one would claim that their relationship is GROUNDED and constructed on the shaky foundation of a FORMER/PAST of abuse and violence, pain and remorse, guilt and terror,reviwing upon Sasuke's character dynamic and Sakura's unwavering devotion that's indomitable and candid.

Once could quest how could a couple work a peaceful and healthy relationship if they have a tempestous stained HISTORY of abuse?

The philosophy of the Manga makes it work for two valid reasons:

1. Sasuke and Sakura do not have a hystory of abuse and terror because of their dual role as human beings and shinobi and their clashes and virulent encounters are presented in the light of shinobi / warriors just like two soldiers of opposing battle forces;

2. The moral of Naruto manga is centered around redemption and forgiveness; Naruto makes it clear they one cannot erase his past self or cut his own bonds and history no matter how sinfully tragic or stained because history is what gives us identity and shape our character and peace can never be achieved if we don't acknowledge each other's pain (pain that's derived from that very painful history of sin and tumult). Naruto manga suggests that, in order for a bond of peace and tranquil cohabitation to work, it is absolutely imperative to accept someone's past. In this case, a redeemed past.

We have the criminal rehabilitation in the Criminal Code which means that the effects of a conviction and the additional penalties are extincted when certain criteria are met.

And Sasuke already atoned for his crimes, both legally and metaphorically, before becoming Sakura's official lover.

Denying that Sasuke and Sakura now a happy married couple ARE abusive or toxic or they ground their marriage on a toxic HISTORY is invalidated by the fact that Sasuke redeemed himself in the eyes of the law, in the eyes of the audience and Naruto Manga promotes the acceptance of one's past as the sole way to make amends and exist in peaceful cohabitation.

How could one reach to someone's heart if he doesn't understand his soul and the source of his pain? And the kernel of both lies in his past, his history.

I can safely postulate that Sasuke gave himself willingly, happily and serenly to Sakura when he was absolutely sure that he is the best version of himself; the one who could give her what she wants and what she deserves. And surrendered to her endless love and devotion.

He asked for forgiveness for his actions (which implied asking forgiveness for not being able to properly reward her love and immense devotion) and Sakura forgave him, he made amends with his past, he reconcilliated with the shinobi world, he offered his services to the greater good of the community, he legally rehabilitated himself for the crimes, he received legal pardon for his crimes.

In the end, I'd conclude that Sasusaku's sole flaw is the embodiment of the human nature itself, with its qualities and flaws, lights and shadows. This pair is human, is strikingly realistic and not exceedingly romanticized to pander to the general audience.

Sasusaku's realistic aphorism stems from its uncensored life situations and the unveiled manner of transposing real-life situations into the fictional work of Naruto Universe, where idealism wins over realism, nihilism and totalitarianism.

Sasuke and Sakura are illustrative for any real life couple's dynamics. Every couple and marriage no matter how solid has its arguments and no human bond is inheritnetly perfect.

Perfect marriages are an utopia but it's exactly the way the parties chose to overcome their crisis and differences that makes a difference. And Sasusaku is a picture frame perfect of a realistic couple dynamics with its differences and shortcomings.

I'd cite Hegel's famous book and state that SasuSaku is the unconquearable proof that the paradox of every sentient being's actions and ambitions lies in the fact that we are all just "human, all too human".

#Sasusaku #Sasuke #Sakura #Sasusaku is not toxic #Sasusaku is not abusive #Supporting sasusaku #Sasusaku pair analysis #Defending sasusaku #Sasusaku relationship explained #Sasusaku couple

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rainiedeforest · 4 years ago

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MDZS headcanons - Madame Lan and Qingheng-jun [PART 1]

So... it happens that I was rewatching the show and I found charming and hilarious how all the people in the town found so many similarities between Lan Wangji and Lan Shizui (when he was Wen Yuan and little and clingy and so so cute that you wanted to put him inside your pocket to protect him), and also, and also I had this need to put in words some ideas about Madame Lan and Qingheng-jun because I think that we only knew a part of the story (the same story that was created by the elders who hated Madame Lan so… Was it all really true?) I cannot imagine Madame Lan or Qingheng-jun telling his sons the real story (they had better things to do as spending time in the first case and meeting them in the second) Also, I’m a sucker for romance in all ways so… here I am xD. Hope you like them :3 (It’s a little long and it will have mistakes because english is not my first language, sorry in advance. Also, this is longer than I have expected so... I will divide it in three parts.)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

But first of all, the names. I’m going to give a name to Madame Lan (because only madame lan isn’t enough) and also to Qingheng-jun (whose name I think is only a title). Also, I’m sorry about any mistakes I could make, I don’t know Chinese and I only have access to Google translate and some other online dictionaries.

Madame Lan

Birth name: Zhi Aiyan: 治爱艳

Zhi (治) for “to rule”, but also for “to treat (a disease) Ài (爱) as in love Yàn (艳) as colorful, splendid.

I have searched the meaning in a online dictionary and the combination of (爱) Ài and (艳) yàn has this meaning: plaintive and beautiful or melancholy but gorgeous. And I think it will suit her really well.

Courtesy name: Lan Yingyue (蓝映月)

Yìng (映) as in to reflect (light), to shine. Yuè (月) as in moon

The name complete with the surname means reflection of the blue moon (and the why of this name... you will find it below)

Qingheng-jun

Birth name: Lán Suān qū (蓝酸曲)

Suān qū (酸曲) means “love song”

But also, thanks to the dictionary; I found that suān (酸) could means “sick at heart; grieved; sore; aching, pedantic; impractical” and that qū (曲) means song or tune.

Courtesy name: Lán Tiáo Hé (蓝调和), because this two characters means harmonious, to mediate, to reconcile, to compromise.

Headcanons

Zhi Aiyan belongs to a small family specialized in medicine and, more concretely, in problems with the golden core. His father is a cultivator that had learned all he knew thanks to his teaching under the wing of the branch of the Wen Clan that cultivates the medicine (the same branch as Wen Qing and Wen Ning). Her mother, on the other hand, was part of the Wen Clan when she was younger and before she married Zhi Aiyan’s father.

Her parents met there when his father was studying and fall in love with her mother, so Zhi Aiyan always wanted a love match like them.

They live in a small town near Yiling, where her father teaches her all about medicine and the art of cultivation with the help of her mother. She is a great student and soon she also made a little name in the cultivation world, destinated for only men and really few women. But, she isn’t the only one they teach, because his father has a few disciples that are also willing to learn.

When Aiyan turned fourteen, she engaged with one of the disciples of his father. She didn’t want to marry at first because she has in mind a lot of things she wanted to do with her life and also thoughs she was too young to marry anybody. Although, with some time and only because it was something her parents wanted for her (and they always wanted the best for their little girl), she learned to appreciate his fiancé, thinking that she has fallen in love with him at the end.

One night, when she was fourteen and she was searching for some medicinal herbs his father needed, she met Young Master Lan, Lan Tiaohe, in a forest near her house. He was badly injured but she helped him with some leafs of wild ginger and cut the blood of the open wound he had. Tiaohe didn’t saw her or had the opportunity to thank her because: first, he fainted because of the pain and second ‘cause she runs away scared when she heard the voices of the other disciples of GusuLan (they where 'harmless' and would take care of the young man, but she couldn't risk being mistaken for the person who had hurt Tiaohe).

Three years later, Aiyan was traveling before her wedding, searching some medicinal herbs to gift to her fiancé the day of. She was outside the city of Gusu when Tiaohe saw her and “fall in love at the first sight”.

But was it really “love at the first sight”? Tiaohe knew he felt a connection, an attraction to the mysterious woman, but he barely knew her. He was a hopeless romantic so love at the first sight sounded great for him.

He tried to talk with her, but the woman disappeared faster than a flicker. When he reaches Cloud Recesses, he found his little brother he told him that he had saw the perfect girl. “Believe me, Qiren, she looked like a goddess with the moonlight at her back illuminating her and her light color hanfu. I haven’t saw anything so beautiful ever.” Lan Qiren thought his brother had lost his mind because who would like to chase girls when you can improve your cultivation?

Aiyan and Tiaohe met some more times, but, although the young master was really handsome, Aiyan was engaged and his intents never gone to far. He would never insult her that way.

With the months passing, they developed a little friendship whatnever they met in night hunts, learning little things about each other.

One day, when Aiyan was seventeen, she heard that GusuLan Sect Leader had died because of an ilness and that his son, Lan Tiaohe, would succeed him as Qingheng-jun. With that news, she wanted to comfort Tiaohe (because she cannot imagine her life without her father), but she wasn't even near Gusu, so it was difficult to do it. Nevertheless, destiny was on her side and she found, one month later, Tiaohe in the forest. Aiyan comforts him when he said her that he was scared that he would mess up as Sect Leader, but her words made him secure again and happy.

A few time later, her parents decided the date of her wedding and she told Qingheng-jun in a letter (one of many). He congratulated her although he was feeling like dying inside. The woman he was in love with was going to be of other man, she was going to smile at him, hug him, kiss him... That man was going to be the most afortunated of all the world.

Lan Qiren was preocupaded for his older brother, because he was melancholic and sad and seems more a living dead that the brother he knew. That woman, because the cause of his problems had to be one, wasn't what she wanted for his brother and he hated her a little each day. “What happenend, xiongzhang?” “Yingyue is going to get married” “Who?” “The goddess of the moon I have talked about like... everyday.”

Lan Qiren had mixed feelings with that confession but said nothing. That ‘Yingyue’... What Qiren didn’t know was that that name had been given by Tiaohe to her so he will be able to talk about her without anyone being able to trace her and put her in danger (being engaged and all that, it would have been a scandal to talk about Aiyan using her birth name).

The night before the wedding, while Aiyan and his father were in a night hunt, having a last bonding time before she was gone, they fell in a trap. She asked for help of the group of disciples from the GusuLan Sect that were hunting in the forest but, as the monster they were fighting was too powerfull, the elder that was guideing the group left they at their own luck, saving also his disciples. Aiyan’s father died before her eyes.

Aiyan and her mother cancelled the wedding because they were mourning the loss of a father and a husband, respectly. Aiyan and her mother cancelled the wedding because they were mourning the loss of a father and a husband, respectively, and it wasn't time for celebrations. Now, they were all alone in the world.

Aiyan searched his fiancé for comfort, thinking he was going to be with her and her mother in this difficult moments. But the reality was different. She found that her fiancé not only has orchested the death of her father, but also he was aiming to take control over the medical information for selling it.

Aiyan was miserable. She couldn’t conceive that she had been deceived for so long by her fiancé, who had put his own ambition ahead of something else as the health of the people, wishing to keep the medical writings of the Aiyan's family.

Qingheng-jun, for his part, did nothing but talk Qiren about Aiyan, the feats he had heard from her, about how proud, strong and independent she was. A free spirit. The elders heard him one night and weren’t happy about it ‘cause they were preparing the engagement of Qingheng-jun.

Aiyan, devastated, searched revenge, first against her fiancé (whom she managed to drive him away) and, later, against the elder of the Lan clan, although she knew that it would not be so easy to reach the second.

She investigated on the outskirts of the city and was sure she would get him ambushed, however the one she finds is Qingheng-jun. Aiyan, hurt, shouted her that their friendship meant nothing for him, that his clan believed themselves superior just because they belonged to a large sect and that any life that was not their own was less than nothing.

Qingheng-jun wasn’t understanding anything and asked her to please explain to him, but Aiyan was so angry that she tried to attack him with her sword, Bichen. She just had to avenge her father, even if that wasn't going to bring him back. Qingheng-jun gently stopped her and tried to make her reason in a soft voice.

But the same elder who had let her father die in that night hunt, had followed Qingheng-jun so that he wouldn’t commit any madness, seeing the girl and misinterpreting the whole situation (Aiyan was crying in Qingheng-jun's arms).

After a heated discussion, Aiyan shouted all her doubts at the elder (Why didn't he help her father? Why was he so close to her fiancé? What did he get out of all that?) And Qingheng-jun asked his master to please clarify all that.

When the eldest refused to tell her absolutely anything, not wanting to know anything about an opportunistic and dirty woman who only wanted to climb and gain a power position by taking advantage of Qingheng-jun's good feelings, Aiyan launched her into attacking him with her sword, hoping that way she received some more answers, achieving nothing. Just a few wounds that she would have to deal with as soon as she was alone.

Qingheng-jun tried to stop them, calming Aiyan enough to stop her attacks, but his master demanded that, for the sake of the clan, he get away from that bad woman and return to have the upright life that was expected of him, a person of his high position. The man rushed to attack her and, after a few defensive movements with her sword, Bichen pierced, mortally, the body of the elder Lan, who cursed her before falling to the ground and throwing at the air a warning signal.

Aiyan was completely paralyzed without knowing what to do while Qingheng-jun felt his whole world breaking. A disciple who had come by the signal, witnessed the scene and fled to raise the alarm.

Qingheng-jun takes out a small sack with wild ginger leaves and tries to keep his master alive, panicking.

"I ... I did not ..." Aiyan, who never killed people but heal them, was so scared that she couldn’t even run away even if Qinghe-jun was begging her. This was the worst situation he could have ever imagined. He couldn't lose his master and the woman he loved in the same night, it was too much for him. The man had been a second father to him, but Aiyan... She was the woman of his life, the chosen one, the woman for what he knew he would leave everything behind, just as the founder of his sect, Lan An, had done. Qingheng-jun grabbed Aiyan's hand and fled as fast as he could as soon as he heard the rest of the disciples arrive at the alarm voice.

When they were far enough apart, Qinghe-jun spoke to Aiyan and asked her to run away for her life. He could bear not seeing her again as long as she was safe and sound, somewhere in this vast world. He knew that the rest of the clans would persecute her if the elders of GusuLan stipulated that she was a dangerous criminal. But Aiyan couldn't do that. She couldn't leave her mother alone. She had already suffered a lot with everything that had happened.

"I don't mind receiving the punishment. I know what I've done." "It was in self-defense!" "They won't see it that way, you know that." "A-Yan, please." "Sorry, Suanqu."

Then, Qingheng-jun, after cursing slightly, stared at her for several seconds, confident, as wonderful as the night when he first saw her, and told her the only solution he had been able to come up with. It wasn't the brightest idea, but it would keep her and her mother safe. Aiyan didn't understand at first, repeating the bows until she saw what it meant, stopping before the third. And she refused, but Qingheng-jun pleaded her that it was the only way to save them both.

"No!" "It’s the only way!" "The only solution? Let me be punished! I killed a man!" "I can't lose you, Aiyan! Not you... Please..."

As Qingheng-jun tried to convince her, they both heard the footsteps and voices of the rest of the disciples. With one last pleading look, Qinghe-jun removed the ribbon from his forehead and wound it around her wrist, glancing at his sectmates as they reached them, led by other elders and her younger brother Qiren.

“What’s the meaning of this?” “It’s just what it’s seems.” “Xiongzhang, please, come with us.” “I can’t. Not without her.” “She is an assassin!” “No. She is my wife.

***

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

#Mdzs #Mdzs novel #Mdzs headcanons #The untamed #The untamed headcanons #Qingheng-jun #Madame Lan #lan zhan #Lan Wangji #Lan Huan #Lan Xichen #Lan Qiren #Headcanons #GusuLan #my writing

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