#this dynamic is usually more of a If I Wrote a Book sort of dynamic since it's hard to really rp i think

[kxllerblond]

love me cute ships, love me ‘cute’ toxic ships. love monster ships where there’s this mutual growth and learning to accept themselves but, at his core, clark is a maneater and when i tell you (this edit) has had a chokehold on me and clark for over a year because this is his TYPE to a T,,,,

[theunbearableweightofpedropascal]

Mother Knows Best

Blaise Zabini x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: (angst, fucked up family dynamic)

A/N: This is the dress I had in mind in case my description doesn't do it justice. All credit to the artist here. and hair inspo (top right). Also I'm not sure why I keep writing that Blaise hates yellow but it feels right, idk.

Summary: With your parents abhorrent views you doubt they could choose a decent partner.

Word Count: 5.6k

The wizarding community was small which meant that Hogwarts was even smaller. Thankfully you had been able to slip under the radar, which in hindsight was easy since your classmate was Harry Potter. Either way, people wrote you off as timid and boring but the truth was far worse. 

Growing up everything seemed fine you came from a prestigious family that was more than respected. With that came expectations as you were told but understood, you made sure your magic was comparable to no one. You had practiced so much that there were cramps in your hand and wrist regularly. However, the expectations that your parents meant were far more nefarious than being a prefect. 

For your sorting ceremony, you had come from a family of Ravenclaw’s and Slytherin’s so when the hat called out Hufflepuff it seemed a slight pause was taken. There wasn’t explicit disappointment written on your father’s face but you knew what he would have preferred. But in his words at least you weren’t Gryffindor.

Motivation thrummed through your body to make up for less than adequate house. You’d managed to become quite knowledgeable on many subjects, even things as taboo as muggle studies. You’d never dared to take the class but had read a few books out of morbid curiosity. There was never anything explicitly anti-muggle spoken about in your household but deep down you knew better. The kind of family you were born into would never be outspoken about that sort of thing, it’s unbecoming in your mother’s words. 

After the death of Cedric Diggory, more talks of he who shall not be named permeated the community. Some believed it was an unexplainable tragedy while others were in complete denial. Not only were you disgusted by what they did to him you also felt sad for Harry, it was crystal clear what happened. Your parents on the other hand seemed unaffected, that should have been the first sign but you were too busy giving condolences to Harry. 

Next was the stream of people they contacted in the coming months. At first, none of them rang any alarm bells but more and more suspected Death Eaters would permeate your childhood home. A small riff formed between your parents and you, the seemingly loving people who raised you held such nasty views. Visits to your childhood home soon became limited to mandatory holidays under the guise of you studying for your O.W.L.s.

Soon enough you could see exactly where they stood and it terrified you. There wasn’t anyone you could turn to without fearing it would get back to your parents. 

……..

On your scheduled visit home you were indifferent to finding certain members of the Ministry leaving your parent's home. However, as your father stood before you in the foyer expectantly you couldn’t help but wonder why. Usually, it would just be your mother receiving you due to the constant stream of ‘meetings’ your father held. No words were exchanged between you two before he gestured for you to follow him to his office. 

The once warm memories that this house provided now gave way to shivers down your spine. It felt like the closer you were to approaching his office the harder your heart thundered in your chest. Uneasiness settles within you because of your father’s seemingly cold nature. 

Inside his office, he gestured to the seat across from his chair and your heart sank. Although you didn’t feel at home anymore, you didn’t have the heart to fully distance yourself. For so long all of your work was due to upholding the family name and reputation and if you let that go there was nothing else. Your mother gave nothing away while she stood off to the side. 

“As you know darling a war is brewing, and now is the time that our Dark Lord needs his loyal correspondents.” His hands on your shoulders send a cold shiver over you. “And it worries me that my daughter seems to sympathize with mudbloods.” Even though you couldn’t see his face you could only picture the defeat on his face.

“I-” Before you could attempt to defend yourself you were interrupted.

“I thought I had made my expectations for you obvious child.” Your father’s fingers dug into you causing a grimance across your face. “Only for you to embarrass me after I put all of my hopes and dreams into you.” Tears well in your eyes from the pain of both his words and his harsh grip. 

“Have I not given you everything?” In spite of how you’ve felt about his purist ways, his words cause you to scramble to reassure him. After all, you didn’t put in as much work as you had to disappoint him.

“You have and I-” The words become stuck in your throat because of how much you are trying to say at once. “I’m so sorry.” Shame has your head hanging low while your tears wet your pants. “I saw Cedric as a friend and I let my judgment get clouded.” Sobs wrack your body and your father lets his death grip go to comfort you. 

“It’s okay darling sometimes we become a little misguided. As long as we find our way back that’s all that matters.” The same hands that caused your breakdown are now nursing you back with slow circles. Your breathing begins to even out and your father takes that as his cue to continue with what this meeting is really about.

“Now that we’ve taken care of that, I wanted to talk about what we are gathered here for.” His hands clap together in what you assume is excitement, and a glance at your now-smiling mother confirms it. “Tonight we are celebrating your impending nuptials.” 

Never has your head swiveled so quickly, you weren't privy to any marriage conversations. As far as you knew you weren’t promised to anyone but you knew better than to question anything in this moment. From the corner of your eye, you see your mother leave the room and the thundering in your heart amps up once again.

“And what better family to be joined with than the Zabini’s?” Your mother is the one to drop the name of your future husband as she glides into the office again. Behind her, you see the infamous Zabini’s. Everyone is familiar with the Zabini’s, more specifically the rumored black widow Domenica Zabini. Her track record of 7 dead husbands speaks for itself. There was nothing short of perfection about their appearance, not that you expected less.

The joy on your mother’s face feels like you’re in an alternate universe, one that involves a happy family. Somehow you didn’t see the gilded cage that had slowly been closing until it was too late. If there was food in your stomach it would have been thrown up by now. 

“Don’t play coy darling, they’ve come all this way to meet you.” As if your breakdown didn’t just happen your mother ushers you out of the seat before urging you closer. “This will be good for you, for us.” The low tone of her voice leaves no room for opposition. 

Domencia’s keen eyes take you in and you almost can’t believe this woman killed her husbands. There’s nothing overtly cunning or evil-looking about her presence as one would think. Her son, on the other hand, had a menacing demeanor for someone who you’d never heard utter a word. Since Hogwarts was small his best friends Theo and Draco more than made up for his silence. 

His brown eyes are calculated while he takes you in and your heart betrays you by skipping a beat. 

“You’re even more breathtaking in person.” Were the first words you ever heard him speak and you hated to admit how your whole body fluttered. The low register of his voice made it feel like only the two of you were in the room despite your parents lurking off into the corner. 

“So the mythical Blaise does speak?” You keep your voice low like his.

“Considering you are my future wife I’d say it’s imperative.” And just like that the reality of your future comes crashing back to you. 

Blaise gently grabs your hand and brings it to his lips before running his thumb across your knuckles. His eyes never leave yours and you can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to disarm you. Either way, you remember to keep your guard up around him. 

“Is there anywhere for us to talk, privately?” Although you doubt your parents can hear you he still goes the extra mile to bring his lips to the shell of your ear.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Your eyes dart around the room in an attempt to get out of the situation you’ve landed in.

“Afraid you’ll actually come to like me, sweetheart?” Blaise, as observant of ever, notices your hesitation to him despite his very convincing charm.

“No.” Even you weren’t convinced by your answer however, you refused to give him the satisfaction. 

An amused smirk plays on his face and he finds himself more than pleased with this arrangement. The air between you was thick with undeniable tension. 

“You know,” Your mother places her hands on your shoulders gently but that doesn’t stop the small wince on your face, “You should show Blaise around the grounds since he’ll be around a lot.” 

“That would be lovely.” His award-winning smile splits his face in agreeance with your mother. 

Seeing no way out of this you tell him, “Stay close to me.” 

Many would say that your familial land is almost as grand as Hogwarts, but that only applies if you enjoy greenery. The house is incomparable to the vast amounts of land you can explore and observe. Your mother favored her garden and maze, so much so that the familial home was inconsequential to the lands she demanded. 

“I take it you weren’t as up-to-date as your parents led me to believe?” Now that you two were truly alone Blaise saw no need to hold back. 

“I wasn’t but I can’t say I’m completely upset with their choice.” The truth is they went far beyond your expectations.

“So I still have a chance?” He pulls back before the two of you are more than a couple feet from the house. “I must plead my case.” His general nature gives you pause, you’ve never met someone so magnetic.

“And what exactly is your case?” Your curiosity gets the better of you.

“We could make this a long engagement, I don’t mind a wait. Frankly, I enjoy your presence and I wouldn’t mind growing from that.” His hands reach for yours, and somehow it doesn’t seem desperate. 

“You’re making this feel so easy.” As much as you wanted to reject any man sent your way through your parents, Blaise was different. Not to mention you weren’t in a position to bargain.

“I don’t want to force you, but I will promise absolute devotion.” This time when he kisses your knuckles there’s no prying eyes, making the moment much more remarkable.

Truth be told above all else you wanted someone exactly like Blaise, but your parent's involvement sort of ruined the moment. Emotionally you were still reeling from your father’s outburst, and you know it won’t be the last. If you could keep him off your back with this there would be less pressure surrounding any future mistake. 

But that does peg the question of how you’ll fare should this relationship get serious. Would you be the first of many wives for Blaise? The thought sent a chill down your spine and there’s no way you could outright ask. For the time being you decide being a team player is most important and string Blaise along until he tires of you. 

“I would love nothing more.” Maybe you laid it on a little thick but Blaise doesn’t seem to notice or care. 

………….

With news of you and Blaise’s engagement spreading amongst the parents, you knew it wouldn’t take long for the gossip mill at Hogwarts to circulate. By the time you return from your visit whispers follow you through the corridor. 

“So you wanna tell me why everyone is talking about your engagement to Blaise?” Madeline, your closest friend, saddles up next to you as you barrel down the hall.

You slow down your fast pace to pull her into an empty classroom. “I knew my Father held some anti-muggle ideals but now he’s talking about doing the Dark Lord’s bidding. I went home this weekend to find out they had me betrothed to Blaise Zabini.” Your hands find their way to your face in an effort to rub the emotional distress out. “Not to mention he completely freaked out on me for expressing my sympathies for Harry. Mads I’ve never seen him like that, it scared me.” 

“Godric,” She made her way to stand beside you before rubbing your back in gentle circles. Madeline was first assigned as one of your dormmates, she took it upon herself to adopt you. She'd seen first-hand the immense pressure your parents put on you, and in turn the pressure you placed on yourself. “You know you’re always welcome around mine?” 

Although you did know that it would only prolong the inevitable with your parents. Nevertheless, you thank her and rest your head on her shoulder. 

“The worst part is the fact that I don't completely hate Blaise, I mean he would be perfect if my parents hadn’t been the ones to arrange it. Now it feels tainted you know?” Your eyes are glued to the floor while you pour out everything you’d had to hold in this past weekend. 

“Of course, not to mention his mother has an interesting romantic history.” You are glad that you’re not the only one who noticed. 

“But he’s so gorgeous.” You tilt your head away from your best friend with a whimsical sigh. 

“You’re preaching to the choir.” Her agreeance has you craning your neck to blink in surprise at her. 

“Not too much, he’s still my fiance.” Playfully you narrow your eyes at Mads before bursting into laughter with her joining you. 

With your spirits back up the both of you head back into the hall and make your way to the grand hall. Studying would help in taking your mind off of everything else, somehow it was relaxing. The table was decorated with textbooks as you and Madeline delved into your academics. 

“You look even more radiant when you’re focused.” That low drawl had your head quickly swiveling to meet Blaise’s eyes in surprise.

“There’s a lot I need to stay up to date on.” Your answer must have been enough for him to take a seat next to you. But you don’t let his presence deter you from your agenda. Madeline squirms in her seat across from you to get your attention only to give you a knowing look. 

“I’m sure there is,” He lets his eyes fall over your form, and warmth spreads throughout your body at his brazenness. He clears his throat before continuing, “ My mother’s hosting a party next weekend and I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of being my date?”

From the corner of your eye, you could feel Madeline’s widened eyes taking in this conversation. You’re not sure why you expected Blaise to ignore you once you returned to Hogwarts, but strangely you’re pleased he didn’t. Finally, you set your quill down to properly address him.

“I would love that,” You school your features to not look as giddy as you feel. “Any specific dress code requirements?” 

“If you don’t mind I got your measurements from your mother and had a dress commissioned.” He had the gall to look sheepish. 

“And what if I find the dress ugly? What if I had said no?” The questions fly out one after the other.

“Your mother promised me you had no shortage of beautiful gowns, and if you had said no I would have found another way to gift it to you.” His eyes peer down at you while you bashfully glance towards Madeline. Once he leaves you know you’ll never hear the end of this. 

“Well thank you,” For once you are truly rendered speechless and there is no other feeling more embarrassing. 

Blaise, as observant as ever, senses the end of the conversation and readies himself to leave. Before he completely takes off he places a folded piece of paper in your palm and closes it. When his back faces you you let your eyes wander after him with a stupid smile splitting your face. You realize too late that once he reaches his table his friends have already caught you grinning like an idiot. They proceed to clap him on the back and you quickly face Mads only to be met with a teasing grin. 

You resign yourself to laying your head on the table until the smile on your face calms down. When you unfold the piece of paper you find a rough draft of a fluffy green gown. His penmanship impressed you but his eye for detail on the various layers of dresses solidified your opinion.

…………

The box holding the dress Blaise commissioned is sitting on the ottoman by the foot of your bed. It was a deep emerald green with a light green bow wrapping around it. Your mother delivered it with a bright smile as soon as it arrived in the morning. She was adamant about opening it but you wanted to wait, even if the anticipation was killing you too.

Your parents were attending as well but they had been rather agreeable lately. Just as you assumed once you showed interest in being with Blaise they seemingly backed off. The last thing you want is a repeat of what happened.

With the sun setting you begin taking down your hair, and the curls bounce as you rub oil on them. You deliberately save the front braids for last while you finish individually placing each curl. The front of your hair is parted to the right side, and you begin gathering half into a small ponytail. You decide to leave a small piece of hair out from the right side that is curled away from your face. 

A smile graces your face at the finished product and you turn to the box that’s been calling to you all day. The note attached to the bow was the first thing you read. 

I hope the dress is up to your standards -B.Z.

You place the note on your bed and untie the bow before lifting the top. A lavish hunter-green bustier greets you, before fully pulling it out you take note of the silver and black jewels lining the entire top. You carefully grab the strapless top to pull it out of the box and a gasp involuntarily leaves your mouth at the mass of the dress. 

Flowers made of sheer fabric litter the waist and sage green fabric lines the sides of the dress. Layers of tulle overlap with leafy designs that feature silver accents. You had never seen a dress as beautiful as the one in front of you, Blaise clearly had an eye for fashion. The drawing he gave didn’t do the dress enough justice.

Progressively you place the dress on the floor and step into it. Perfect is the only word to describe it as you gaze at yourself in the mirror. Even in low light, the jewels sparkle enticingly and you note that he used his house color on you. You do a spin before heading to your jewelry box, only to find that you missed a matching necklace and earring set at the bottom. The dangly earrings remind you of snowflakes and the necklace matches the gems atop your dress.

“Please tell me you’re rea-” Your mother bustles into your room but pauses mid-sentence at you. “My, you look stunning.” She slowly circles you before noting the jewelry in your hand and she gestures for you to face the mirror. She delicately takes out your stud earrings and replaces them with the one Blaise gifted you. When she reaches into the box for the necklace a gasp, much like your earlier one, leaves her red-tinted lips.

“When he asked me about your measurements I never expected this.” She circles her arms over your head to gingerly lay the necklace over your sternum. Her polished nails circle your shoulders for a gentle squeeze, “Let's finish up before your father storms in here.” 

She sits you down on your vanity chair before pulling out a brown lipstick and gloss. You tilt your head back to allow her an easier time and her sweet perfume fills your nostrils. Once she finishes she steps back to admire her handiwork with a smile. She opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by your father’s call.

“We are now thirty minutes late,” The both of you share a silent laugh before heading downstairs to put on shoes and meet your father. 

………..

Blaise is bored out of his mind waiting for you, he was surrounded by friends but it was clear he was anxiously awaiting your arrival. Although he thought you would like the dress he couldn’t be sure, maybe it was a bad idea to not consult you. 

“Oh cheer up Zabini your girlfriend’ll be here soon.” Theodore’s quip was met with laughter from Draco. 

“Not girlfriend, fiancee.” Malfoy corrects Theo before Blaise can open his mouth to say the same thing. While they laugh Blaise rolls his eyes before scanning the hall once more. Theodore could sense how his friend felt despite him trying to downplay it.

“Is there an actual ring or is this a vocal agreement?” Draco decided to push his limits 

“There’s plenty of rings but we aren’t there yet kind of like you and Astoria.” Draco rolls his eyes at the reminder of his love life. “And who knows when a woman will become agreeable to your presence Nott.”

Both boys exchanged looks of amusement at Blaise’s snappy tone.

Time seems to stand still when he spots you at the entrance of his mother’s grand hall. His heart thunders as he realizes you are wearing the dress he helped create. The low light of the room captures the shimmering jewels that line the dress and he can’t recall anyone as lovely as you. For once he is rooted in place unable to fulfill the greeting he had prepared.

“I think I understand now mate.” Theodore is stumped in place as well when he follows Blaise’s line of sight.

Everyone in the hall spares a glance at you, how could they not? The dress gives the illusion that you are gliding across the floor. His mother intercepts your family and focuses on you. It’s obvious she’s fawning over how alluring you are. Your eyes scan the crowd scantily and Blaise takes that as his cue.

“I’ll catch up with you two later.” He doesn’t spare his friends a glance as he makes his way through the crowd to you.

When your eyes lock with his he internally melts, the closer he gets the more you steal his breath away. A symphony with booming music plays in his head to match his beating heart. 

You straighten your posture when Blaise stands before you in a three-piece emerald green tailman suit. His hand collects yours before bowing to kiss your knuckles, and after he comes up you curtsey before him. Your dress pools around you in the most elegant way before you slowly come up again. It was nearly impossible to rip his eyes away from you but he had to greet your parents before whisking you off. 

“Would you mind excusing us?” Blaise’s polite manner brings joy to your mother’s face and approval to your father's. 

“Of course not,” Your mother and Domencia are quick to shoo you and him away. 

His hand glides around to the small of your back while he guides you to the refreshment table. The array of food makes it hard for you to pick anything and he senses your indecision. He hands you a plate to pick as much as you want.

“Thank you, for the dress it really is amazing. Your drawing was beautiful but I never expected anything like this.” The sparkle in your eyes is all he wanted to see. 

“Anything for you.” His declaration left you speechless once again so you focus on picking your food. 

He then leads you to your table to eat but you hesitate before moving to sit. Blaise angles your body and dress to sit comfortably in his lap. Your stomach flutters for the umpteenth time and you try to look anywhere besides his face. 

“This was your plan all along huh? Create this elaborate dress so I’m woefully dependent on you.” You begin trying the various foods on your plate while Blaise watches you. 

“If I’m being honest I wish I had come up with that, but I did want to see you in a beautiful gown. Maybe steal a dance or two.” His complete focus was on you enjoying your treacle tart. 

“Nobody else is dancing though,” You spare a glance around to find everyone mingling while the live band plays quietly. 

“So?” His head was being cradled by his large hand as he searched your eyes. 

“You must be the fiancee, we’ve heard so much about you.” Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott step into view on the other side of the table.

“I kind of miss Zabini when he was quiet and mysterious.” Theodore jokingly pouts his lips at Blaise before taking his seat. 

“Fuck off,” Blaise tries to look annoyed but everyone catches the slight crack in his face. 

“The only Blaise I’ve encountered is the lovesick puppy variant.” The boys roar with laughter at your one-liner. 

“As much as I love this conversation, I should probably do a couple of laps around the room,” He places his hands on your hips before addressing you, “You think you’ll be okay with these vultures for a couple of minutes?” 

“I think I’ll be alright,” The mischievous grin on your face convinced him and you stood up so he could fulfill his hosting duties. 

“That's the spirit,” Malfoy clapped his hands at your willingness to entertain them. “Shall we get you a drink to catch up with us?” 

“As long as it’s fire whiskey.” Your agreeance has them flagging down the nearest server for a round of glasses. 

Surprisingly talking with Draco and Theo is easy, mostly because they’ve been shit-talking Blaise. You keep your intake of whiskey to two glasses to keep your wits about you. This wasn’t that kind of party. 

They tell the story of how Blaise was knocked off his broom by an ex-girlfriend's spell. A re-enactment of how he flailed for 30 feet ensued but luckily the table was toward the back. You’d been breathing in short bursts for the past few minutes and you hope for a reprieve.

“Alright if you all don’t mind I’ll be stealing her for a dance,” Blaise’s hand stretches out to you before he calls, “M’lady.” 

One last giggle escapes from your lips when you place your hand in his and slowly rise from your chair. On the way to the middle of the floor, you realize the band is playing a much louder tune than before. Blaise’s steps slow and his hand guides you around to the front of him while your dress flows flawlessly. 

Each of you repeats the bow and curtsey from earlier but this time you keep eye contact. Once both of you are upright you wait for the musical cue to begin your first step. When the violinist begins their solo you step forward attaching one hand to his right shoulder and the other in his left hand. His hand envelops yours before sliding down to the small of your back, just above the flowers.

Just like you thought you two were the only ones about to dance, and people were quickly realizing that. 

“Don’t look around, I want to see those beautiful eyes aimed at me.” With warm cheeks, you gaze up at Blaise who smiles back at you taking the first step in the dance. Completely confident in your steps, you follow his lead while he guides you in circles.

“This dress is the best gift anyone’s ever given me and don’t even get me started on the jewelery, thank you.” You step back as Blaise raises his arm to spin you, showcasing the multiple layers of tulle whirling around you. 

“Does this mean I need to begin drafting another?” The moment you step back into each other’s space it feels as if the whole room is empty save for you two.

“If I could make a request, would you mind yellow?” The slight grimace crossing his face makes you laugh.

“And your very first flaw rears its ugly head.” You swallow the chuckle that wants to escape so that you can back away from Blaise once more. This time you both take a step to your left before holding your palms close but not touching. With your left hand behind your back, you keep your eyes on the only person in the room as you walk in a circle. 

“Where would I even wear another dress like this?” Events like this don’t exactly happen every week.

“I’ll plan another party for you.” His words cause your heartbeat to thunder in your chest you almost thought he could hear it. 

All playful banter between you ceased and all that could be heard were the strings of violins increasing in tempo. At the same time, you turn so that your right hand can hold a sliver of space between them. Something within his eyes made a jolt run through your body as if you took Amortentia.

With the tempo slightly decreasing it was time for you to stand side by side, facing the fireplace and his hand guiding you backward. Now that the both of you are facing each other once again you circle the other in a figure-eight motion. If you were thinking about anything other than Blaise you would feel ridiculous but there was nothing else running through your mind. 

His mouth firmly remains in a smile and yours mirrors his if the strain in your cheeks had any say. Your dance comes to an end when you face each other before your last curtsey. Applause fills the room and you remember you’re not alone. 

“I think it’s time for a tour.” Blaise bends down to speak lowly into your ear and a shiver runs down your spine.

“I would love that.” You place your hand on his bicep and follow his lead out of the ballroom.  

The corridors are dim with only candles lighting your path. Your heels click rhythmically in time with Blaise’s steps, echoing off the walls. 

“You’re enjoying yourself I take it?” Even though he meant to sound sure you could hear the doubt in his voice.

“I love it, I love this dress, and spending time with you isn’t terrible.” Everything about tonight has been great and you were starting to come around to the idea of actually being with Blaise. Maybe the deal with his mother’s dead husband had a logical explanation. 

“That sparkle in your eye tells me it’s a little better than terrible.” He slows to a stop before sliding his arm around your waist. An alcove that has stained glass lets the moonlight shine through allowing the colors to reflect off your skin. 

“It would kill me to admit my parents are right.” Your whisper causes the biggest smirk to split his face and you almost retract your statement. 

“It would kill me if you were to let that stop you.” Both of his hands find themselves planted on your waist playing with the jewels.

After a moment of looking at you his thumb and forefinger lift your head so he can press his lips delicately to yours. You tilt your head to kiss him back while your hands find purchase on his biceps. The way his thumb caresses your cheek makes you lose all inhibitions. Suddenly your hand wraps around the back of his neck to bring his lips closer, your poor dress getting squished in the process. 

It felt like the two of you were molded together, if someone walked past they wouldn’t know where you end and Blaise begins. A groan sounds from him as he slides his hand from your face to the back of your neck, balling his fist full of your hair. When he pulls a gasp leaves your lips and allows him to slide his tongue in. 

“Godric, save that for the honeymoon.” Theodore’s voice and Draco’s laugh feel like cold water being poured over you. Blaise’s hand leaves your hair but stays around your waist while you keep both of your hands at your side. Lip gloss makes his lips irregularly shiny and you're tempted to wipe it but you're interrupted. 

“Your mother’s asking for the both of you, so we did you a favor and came ourselves.” Draco smiles before raising his glass of fire whiskey and tipping it back.

You and Blaise begin leading the long trek back to the ballroom. 

“They’re going to breed like gnomes.” There was no telling who mumbled that out but it resulted in laughter spilling out from everyone.

[imjustwritingg]

Other than wanting to wrap Hailey in cotton wool and give her the biggest hug, how are you feeling/what are your thoughts after last nights episode?

This turned into an unofficial review of sorts and it got rather long, so I’ll post it all below the cut for those that want to read my thoughts.

I might be in the minority here, but I really enjoyed the episode. I kinda loved it actually, and it might be one of my favorite episodes. I enjoyed everything about it…the writing, the directing, the acting.

Gwen Sigan wrote the episode, but I gotta give her credit where it’s due because it was pretty damn good in my book. It reminded me a lot of her writing days prior to her becoming show-runner and I miss those days so very much.

I think the tidbits of Hailey’s past are coming way too late, but I still really enjoyed getting to peek into her life a bit more. Just wish we could have gotten more of it along the way and not three episodes before the character is gone.

I loved Kevin’s blatant callout to Hailey in the first minute of the episode of how she’s dealing and if running is helping her. He asks this question of “how are you doing…really doing?” with no words and just one look, and then we’re given the answer by Hailey deflecting and avoiding yet again under the guise of wanting a sugar fix. I think that was brilliant. It conveyed everything you needed to know about Hailey’s mental state in one short moment.

No Voight in the episode was such a gift.

Hailey being in charge and leading this particular case was the right move and she handled it so well. I’m bummed we probably won’t see her leading her own unit someday.

Also back to the no Voight thing just for a moment to say that it’s interesting to see how the dynamic shifted with the team versus him not being around and Hailey being in charge. The team felt lighter to me, like in the sense that they weren’t on edge, walking on eggshells in a way. Everything just felt calmer. There was still an intensity and an urgency to solve the case, but rules were followed, there was no off the book cowboy bullshit, and it felt like everyone followed Hailey and trusted her, whereas with Voight they were obeying orders that were barked out to them. I don’t know. It just felt really different and so very satisfying to me.

I love Kevin and Kim’s ability to communicate with one another with just one look between them. Makes me think of the early days of them being partners and being on patrol. They still work so wonderfully together.

This case was sick. A mother doing that to her own child is demented. Where these writers, and Gwen specifically, come up with these ideas is beyond me, but someone should probably do a wellness check on her. Like girly needs some serious therapy and R&R.

Josephine Petrovic. I had some hesitation with her at first as you usually do with a new character as you try and suss them out, but I’ve gotta say, I like her. I like her and I hate that I like her and I hate that she only just came onto the show because I would love to see what happens with her if she were to stick around, but I can’t watch this show without Tracy or Jesse — mostly Tracy — but neither of them? I just can’t do it. I have some other thoughts on Jo, but I will save them for another ask I received.

I obviously saved the elephant in the room for last…Jay. I really don’t think the mentions and nods to him in this episode were “bad” in any way because it’s stuff that has already been said about the character…Gwen’s version of him at least, but I do think there is a reason why he is being brought up and why there are so many nods to the marriage. Hailey insisted she wasn’t angry with him in the premiere. She signed the divorce papers, sent them off, and that was that and she washed her hands of him. Except she didn’t. Because she is angry, she hasn’t moved on in the year and a half he’s been gone now, signing the papers didn’t give her any closure…hell, even him signing the papers didn’t give her any closure, (I will die on the hill that he only signed them because it’s what he thought she wanted). I personally do not think she will get any closure whatsoever if she doesn’t have a conversation with him, if she doesn’t confront him and all of it head on…the anger and resentment and confusion and the love that is still there. You can’t turn that shit off. You can’t just push it away and be like, “okay, I’m done with you now, goodbye.” Life doesn’t work that way. Emotions don’t work that way. Grief sure as shit doesn’t work that way, and I feel like that is the stage Hailey is stuck in right now. Grieving the loss of Jay and her marriage and stuck in a limbo that she doesn’t know how to navigate on her own while dealing with childhood trauma that she actually isn’t really dealing with at all. And she is without a doubt on her own. That is the one thing that has been made clear this season. She has no family, not any friends other than co-workers, and right now, she doesn’t have Jay. I respect the “independent woman, gonna stand on my own, I don’t need anyone” mindset, but I don’t agree with how we got here and I also don’t fully agree with the notion that she doesn’t need anyone because everyone needs someone. You can’t do life alone. You need someone in your corner, someone by your side, someone who gets you in ways you don’t even know yourself, and for Hailey, that person is and will always be Jay Halstead. I think she will realize she needs to get out of Chicago like her brothers, like Jay, like Will, and I hope that wherever she ends up, Jay is there waiting for her and the two of them can just start over without Chicago and their past looming over them like a dark cloud. And for the love of God, let them both go to therapy…together and separately.

Brenna Malloy directed and it was just…perfect. True cinema if you will. The close-ups of the actors’ faces during certain scenes and how the camera would pan to them at just the exact right moment for a reaction, the no background noise and intentional pauses during scenes that allowed moments to feel heavier and more real, the ending shot of Hailey and her teary eyes…I feel like it was a story that was so delicately handled and crafted by Brenna, and I’m just really impressed.

Tracy Spiridakos. I mean, what more even needs to be said? The woman is a powerhouse. It always amazes me knowing how much of a goof she is on set and then you watch an episode like this and it’s just like…WOW. Her range of emotion and the way she makes you feel every single one of those emotions is truly something that needs to be studied. You cry with her, you smile with her, you laugh with her, but the biggest thing is you feel for her character, and I think that is something that not all actors are capable of doing with an audience. Tracy knocks it out of the park, across the highway, into the next town every time, and her execution is consistent every time as well. No one is doing it like her, and I love and respect the hell out of that woman and her talent.

I think the same also needs to be said for Bojana Novakovic. I have been surprisingly impressed by her and kind of adore her. I’ve really been enjoying the character of Josephine Petrovic and I hate that she’s only coming into the show now right when Tracy is walking out the door because Bojana alone is incredible, but her and Tracy together? It’s like magic to me. Their chemistry as scene partners and the way they bounce off each other is absolutely insane, and then their ability to pull you in and keep you locked in…ooof. I think it’s something special and I’ve really enjoyed seeing them together on-screen.

As for how I feel…

I feel good? Okay? The episode didn’t do much for me in the grand scheme of “what is Hailey gonna do” or “what’s gonna happen” because we already anticipated her leaving Chicago. That wasn’t ever in question. But the actual reason for Hailey leaving is still muddled to me, even more so because she hasn’t resolved anything in her life. She still has these demons, a past filled with trauma she hasn’t found peace with, she has no closure with Jay, she has questions and zero answers, and she is already and literally running from her problems.

So, is she supposed to leave Chicago and start over somewhere and her problems are just gonna go poof? Magically disappear? Because that’s not how that works, and I think that would be yet another injustice to the character and more lazy writing. I do think the episode (finally!) laid the groundwork for Tracy’s exit, but it should have started in episode 1, not 10. Tracy gave them an entire season to wrap up Hailey’s story, and I feel like they wasted so much time and it’s gonna be another rushed exit once the curtain falls. It’s not that I’m surprised in that regard, but I am disappointed (again!) especially considering how much of a fuss Gwen made about “it’s so generous of Tracy to give us a whole season.”

If Gwen’s plan was to make Hailey’s exit about her family and her childhood trauma then the seed should have been planted long before now, and Jay shouldn’t still be a sore subject for her. I think we’re in for a really emotional ending to the season, not just for Hailey, but for the first time since season eight I’m actually looking forward to a finale again.

In conclusion and a very long story short…I loved the episode, but Gwen Sigan is still on my shit list.

[finalgirlminamurray]

by the way...finished bones and all (the book) recently

i think it was interesting but ultimately i do have to admit i think the movie did a better job of executing the concept. maybe i'd feel differently if i read the book first but i think it's an actually successful example of a film adaptation taking the broad strokes of the source material to build more of its own story. the basic plot remains the same but there are some significant differences in tone and what they choose to emphasize as well as some more minor details that add up to a very different experience

the author said she wrote this book shortly after going vegan and in the author's notes/acknowledgements at the end that a lot of people were surprised that she'd written a book about cannibals - then clarifying "well, ghouls, really, but cannibals is more recognizable a term" (something like that). thought this was interesting because the word "ghoul" never comes up in the book to describe what are usually just called "eaters". anyway i don't know why people were surprised that a vegetarian/vegan was writing about cannibalism because that seems to be a common thing among people who write about that.

the book wasn't shelved as ya in my library system but i heard it described as a young adult novel before reading it and i think in many ways it does really feel like one. granted i haven't read any young adult books since i was a young adult (i.e., a teenager) myself so i don't know that much about what the ya publishing landscape is really like but i wonder why libraries would be reluctant to classify this as such. is it because of the explicit horror elements? i think it's perfectly appropriate for teens and it feels like it's written from the mindset of one, in a good way

anyway, major differences between book and film are:

in the book maren is raised by her mother before being abandoned by her and going to search for her father; in the film it's the reverse. i think there's some significance here in how being an eater is tied to gender - it's not a gender-specific thing in either version but i feel like in the book most of the eaters maren meets are male. there's only one woman she remembers meeting once who she thinks might have been like her. she also notes that other girls really don't seem to like her and most of the people drawn towards her throughout her childhood were boys.

(there's also the fact that maren in the movie is mixed-race, and it's strongly implied her mother's family didn't approve of her marrying maren's father because he's black; as you might expect none of the characters' races are mentioned in the book and you can probably assume they're meant to be white. this definitely adds a whole lot more to the film's dynamics but it's mostly left to subtext. in the book maren keeps a scrapbook of various historical and literary incidents of cannibalism, and she and sully talk about polynesian people who eat their dead - none of this comes up in the film as far as i remember, though.)

in the book maren has been aware of her cannibalistic tendencies for most of her life and recalls several specific incidents throughout the book of her eating someone she got close to, after which her mom had to pack up and move again. in the film the first of these (her babysitter) is mentioned but if there were others she doesn't seem to remember them. (i'll probably have to watch the film again to refresh my own memory, but i'll take any excuse to.)

the way eaters feed is portrayed somewhat differently; the book seems to lean into the magical realist elements more and implies they can devour a whole person in a matter of minutes, leaving behind only what they can't digest. they also seem to go into a sort of fugue state where they aren't fully aware of what they're doing until it's over, and have a harder time controlling their urges. the film plays it a little more "realistically" and shows them eating like scavenger animals - this is one reason i liked the movie's portrayal of it better, i think. if you want the audience to think about the reality of consuming flesh you kind of have to show it in its full visceral glory

maren's relationship with lee is a little more ambiguous in the book; other characters assume they're dating, she wants to be his girlfriend, but he doesn't quite make it official until they near the end. the film fully makes it a romance between them and has this relationship be a core part of the story - they're also together for more of the plot in the movie, while in the book they separate and find each other again a few times.

maren is a lot less immediately distrustful of sully when she meets him in the book and is actually happy to see him whenever they meet up again. he still comes off as shady but not enough for her to be too creeped out; she's just glad to meet someone like her who seems to have some reasonable principles about how he feeds.

the big twist is that sully is maren's grandfather, being her own father's biological dad, who he never met after being abandoned as a young child. he tried and failed to kill and eat his son and sets his sights on maren instead. there's no familial connection stated in the film but since her mother there has the same backstory as her father in the book (found abandoned as a child and raised by adoptive parents) it's possible

towards the end, lee and maren hitch a ride with a college student who's moving back into her dorm; she offers to let them stay the night but won't let maren sleep in her room. lee ends up eating her and maren essentially takes over her identity so she can live and study at the school, which she enjoys until sully tracks her down. lee finds him attacking her in the dorm room and manages to kill him offscreen (most violence happens "offscreen" in the novel). then he and maren, finally feeling safe, have some drinks and finally sleep together, only for maren to wake up the next morning having eaten him. this is a very different ending than the film, in which lee asks maren to eat him after sustaining injuries in the struggle (and also they're working legitimately by the college), and highlights the book's emphasis on eaters' inability to control their hunger.

the book has more of a bleak ending, honestly, where it's implied that maren will forever be living this nomadic existence she wanted to avoid, unable to get close to anyone without killing them - but at the same time i think you could read it as more positive as she fully embraces what she is. still the nature of eaters in the book makes this a fundamentally different kind of story

the scene in the film where maren and lee meet two men who are both cannibals, but one of them is a born eater and the other just does it because he wants to - not in the book. the closest analogue is when maren goes to visit her father at the mental hospital (which goes mostly similarly to her visit with her mom in the movie, except he doesn't try to attack her at the end) and the nurse who's been taking care of her dad offers to let her have dinner and spend the night at his house. she gladly accepts, but later that night he starts talking about how alone he is and how fascinated he was by her father's nature as an eater, and asks her to do something for him - she doesn't let him finish and it's never revealed exactly what he was going to say but she's really freaked out and tries to leave immediately. he says before that "i don't even like women in that way" so i guess it wasn't something sexual? sources seem to think he wanted her to eat him. weird scene, but right after that she runs into sully again who reveals his true intentions and eats that guy, so we don't have time to dwell on it

speaking of which - the book both downplays maren's romance with lee and is a lot more heterosexual. in the film lee goes off with a male fairground worker and has sex with him before eating him, in the book that character is female (although he also doesn't seem to have done anything with her before eating her). at the same time, there's definitely something there about maren being a girl who other girls seem to inherently dislike for some reason and who has boys interested in her but always finds herself wanting something else from them...at the end she seems to be hitting it off with another guy but the very last lines imply that she's finally embraced her nature and is willingly eating him instead of fucking him. am i reaching for a queer interpretation? maybe! i'm just glad the movie made lee and maren bi (well, maybe it's more subtextual with her, but the first person we see her bite is a girl she's getting intimately close with)

in the film lee has a big confessional monologue about killing his own father; in the book he killed one of his mom's many boyfriends, and while his sister kayla didn't witness it, his girlfriend at the time did and ended up being sent to a mental hospital. this is maybe part of the reason for his and maren's argument before she goes to see her dad

other notes: the book takes place in 1997, the film takes place in 1988. in the movie maren is 18 when her dad leaves her, in the book she's only 16 when her mom leaves. (she's also a lot more resentful towards her mom for leaving her in the book, while in the film she doesn't seem to think about her dad much at all after he leaves; throughout the book she clings to an image of her dad as the perfect idealized parent she never got to have, which makes it especially hard for her when she finds out where he is.) lee's age is not stated in the film but in the book he's 19, which is interesting considering his seeming hesitance to enter into a relationship with maren. the film implies that sully killed kayla when they find what looks like her hair in his rope, but the book makes no mention of this.

overall: still love the movie, the book is something i'll have to sit with for a while i think. i would like to watch the movie again (which would be for a third time by now) with the added context i have of the book. i remain intrigued by the world it takes place in and i think it's a very beautiful movie. i think this was one of those cases where the author herself said the film was better than her book, and i don't always agree with those writers' own assessments, but in this case i'm glad she felt it conveyed the story well, even if some of the themes do feel significantly changed.

[daintybrute]

WIP of my SECOND favorite rarepair from Stardew. As an opposites-attract fan, it's no surprise that I sometimes swoon for these two!

Back when I wrote "Slim to None", I had to make a brand new tag for Elliot/Maru on AO3, because they are even rarer than Penny and Seb, and I think for more reasons than the obvious ones.

It's clear they aren't alike. Left brain vs. right brain. Logical vs. Creative Scientific vs. Artistic. Straightforward vs. Poetical. You get the idea.

But the more I think about these two, the more interesting their dynamic becomes.

Because I strongly believe that people like Elliot, who are extremely expressive and artistic, tend to be easily burdened by their own deep feelings - especially when they don't know how to show these feelings to someone they profoundly care about, because they want it to be conveyed perfectly and beautifully.

While people like Maru who are more pragmatic, logical and practical, may not be very receptive of romantic expression initially - especially the elaborate and flowery kind of affection that Elliot would probably try to offer her.

But I imagine what's going through Maru's mind is 'He's just doing it to be nice.' Basically trying not to fall harder for him than she already has, because she's already done the premature damage control in her brain, rejecting herself on behalf of him, so not to get hurt.

Because allowing yourself to fall in love is scary, right? Especially in the case where it turns out the one you feel deeply for, feels nothing for you in return.

So, Maru tried to resign herself, chipping away her own fondness for him (Which only sort of worked when he wasn’t around). Love had zero applicable positive in her life. Her unearthed feelings had the potential to seriously encumber the way she's systematically ordered her life, and that is a serious problem for someone like her.

Plus, Elliot would never go for someone like me, right? She convinces herself, What gorgeous, sophisticated man in their right mind would pick the scrappy girl with machine grease spatters on her face and arms, when he could have anyone he wanted?

Little does she know (because she refuses to believe it herself), the more Elliot spends time with her, the less capable he is of stopping himself from thinking about her. His mind was consumed. Countless hours lying in bed, staring at the ceiling wondering how she was doing. If she had any interest at all in the book he was writing, or if she would find it boring and dull... What it would take to get her to not avert her eyes when she glanced his way.

"I just like her..." He whispered plainly to himself, somewhat humiliated that he couldn't formulate a better way to say it.

Not that he didn't try.

All the articulations he mustered to piece together, it seemed as if all the poetry and literature the world had to offer would fall short, unable to capture the weight that rested squarely on his heart when his mind simply drifted to her – as it so often did now. His words are far too inadequate to covey his insurmountable feelings.

This is displayed in his canon ten heart event. For a man who is usually suave and elloquant with his speech, Elliot fumbles over what he's tries to say; "Um... [Player]... How do I say this?" "N-no! I'm not saying I want to cut all ties with you!" "... Let's see, how do I put this...?"

Never had he been at such a loss for words as he was during Maru's 8 heart event. Standing in front of Maru. Alone with her in her room. Letting her carefully apply burn cream to his hand after her project demonstration didn’t exactly go as planned.

“That kind of ruined the moment, huh?” She sighed with glistening eyes and flush cheeks, clearly very disappointed in herself.

He’d said hardly anything since he’d even arrived. What could he say? He knows nothing of this stuff… Regardless, now was the time. It had to be! Even if he didn’t exactly know how he was going to say it, he couldn’t conceal his appreciation for her any longer.

Instead of gracelessly blurting out his feelings, he chokes his inadequate words down, stepping forward, aching to simply hold Maru in a perfect moment. Longing for her to carry his bursting heart in her palm. To inspect and refurbish his yearning spirit as she would a malfunctioning gadget or broken machine.

"You, uh," Maru tenses, blushing deeply as he does so, taking a small step back, "You don't have to do that." She chuckles awkwardly, knowing he couldn't possibly...

His heart palpitated wildly as he pulled away, unable to keep himself from feeling hurt and embarrassed by her unexpected rejection, "Maru...?"

"I know gadgets aren't really your kind of thing.." Maru's voice trembled as she looked away, "And I do appreciate that you're showing interest in what I do... but you don't have to overdo it. I mean, thank you for humoring me, but, especially after that… You've already done enough...."

All his hope and desire clattered to the ground. Practically drowning in his own confusion and humiliation, a small moment passed as Elliot's mind began to spin with all the details that lead up to this moment. All the looks Elliot caught her sneaking his way, the way she grew bashful when talking to him about herself, how he could have sworn she was about to ask him to dance with her at the flower festival this year, but never did. The way even just now, how blithely she invited him in to her room to show him what she’d been working on.

After all that?

Determined not to let it end here, Elliot gingerly took either side of Maru’s face, prompting her to look deeply and directly into his eyes. A single word fell from his lips...

"No." Elliot hushed, pupils dancing back and forth between hers.

Maru's brow crinkled.

He repeated himself, "No. I have not done enough." With a light shake of his head and a breezy chuckle, "In fact, I've hardly done anything for you at all."

She again averted her eyes, "Elliot, y-"

Cutting her off, Elliot insistently pulled her face back, tilting his head to meet her eyes again, firm and intentional. The words that he had were simple, yet inspired, "No, Maru... Not enough."

Elliot's soft expression and lowered voice was enough to make Maru's eyes mist. He seemed so genuine; she couldn't find any way around the cold hard fact that faced her in this moment. There was no answer key or user's manual for this kind of thing, there were too many variabls in the equations. But right now with her face cradled in his palms, Maru couldn't calculate (or re-calculate) this moment to equal anything less than the total of what it all added up to;

Elliot adored her.

A smile bloomed on Elliot's face, repeating himself yet again, “No… Not enough.” wrapping his arms around her once more, "Not even close."

OR Maybe it's not that deep and I just think they'd be cute together :) Thanks for reading my headcanon ramblings.

Side note: it's supposed to be a heart floating off of Elliot in the doodle of them kissing, but instead it looks like someone threw a pretzel at him and it bounced off his jacket 🥨😂

[demented-tours]

hello!

i have been a fan of your works since almost a decade and it is safe to say that you’re one of my favourite authors to ever exist. i found your works through a03, specifically through the absolutely incredible dynamic of neji and kiba.

just wanted to come on here and say how much i adore all your works. especially the way you have written sai and captured his personality and autism so well, it holds such a special place in my heart (as do literally every character you have written)

i also wanted ask if there’s anything going to be added to the monoshizukanohi universe. it is beautiful and i am but ravenous for more. even if there is nothing planned, i have been and will continue to cherish the works you have put out there.

i have commented a few times on your works and also try to keep up on instagram but i feel too shy to actually come out here and say all this, hence the anon.

thank you so much for your service! (truly, and for free?! in this economy??? truly blessed)

- L

Well, hello there, Anon!

First off: thank you so much for sharing this with me. Notes like this remind me of why I do what I do, and that keeps me going through the chaos. All the virtual baked goods of your choice and many hugs, (if that's your thing; if not, then enthusiastic happy dances)!

Second: apologies for the small delay in responding; I've been under the weather. Also, if I've not responded to you over on A03, please bear with me, lol. I tend to do responses in batches. Sometimes interaction is difficult for me (neurospicy for the win).

NOW THEN! The good stuff.

Oh man, I love what you love! Writing Neji is just... so delightful. And Kiba's just the perfect foil for so many of my uptight/oblivious characters (ah, Gaara; you never saw him coming... until you definitely did, HA). And oh, Sai and Tenzou! I had no idea how cathartic that story was for me until the final page. I'm so glad you enjoyed those!

As for new Mono stories... Actually, yes. There is one in progress. It's another Origins story, like LET FREEDOM BLEED was. They're sort of the backstory/underpinning stories that star characters referenced and interwoven into what already exists. Keep in mind, I started writing Mono in 2008 (dear lord; where did the time go?); wrote pretty steady until 2014 or so; took a few years of unintentional break; came back to finish LESSONS IN LIVING; and then, well... The characters came knocking, again. I write Mono as a sort of... therapy, if you will, for myself. There's a freedom in writing fanfiction that just hits differently than the books/stories/etc. I write for paid publication. I don't think I knew I was doing that (the therapy thing) when I started, but I can definitely see it now, so this latest story is sort of... eh, a deliberate attempt? Or, like, I know it's helping me work shit out, if that makes sense? It doesn't impact the story, exactly; it's more just I know WHY I'm choosing to do this to myself, lol, lol.

I ramble. I do that. Point being: I AM working on something. I don't mind sharing that it's Itachi's story. It's called THE BELOVED MARTYR, and it is the longest thing I have literally ever written, and it's not done. Right now it's sitting at (are you sitting down?) roughly 900 pages, or 370,500 words. It spans Itachi's entire life (he's about 40 or so in current Mono canon) - so we see him as a boy, we see it when Sasuke is born, family, growing up, and just the sheer, unadulterated mayhem that is his existence. It has a cast of about 50 original characters (there's going to be an index of who's-who whenever this thing gets posted) plus all the usual Mono boys. It's basically my version of fandom canon--how the Uchiha family is old, powerful, and believes itself to be the shepherds of a new order under their control, but translated into the Mono world reality. Oligarchy, old Russian power, older Japanese power, the movers and shakers and often-criminal intrigue that affect global change and disaster... And in the heart of it all, one man who wants to stop the violence and heal himself and those he loves. One of my greatest loves in fandom is figuring out how canon could translate into my version of reality, and this one... considering Itachi's arch... is enormous and sad and lovely and aching all in one. I started writing it when my mother was diagnosed with stage 3 cancer (she's in recovery), and, well... It's also MY healing journey, in a way, lol--not just from that, but in life.

Grand themes, I grant you, but there's also humor and OH SO MUCH kink and violence and that nitty-gritty-teeth-clench thing that I loved about Rhythm & Bruise. We also get Nagato's backstory (my version of him), and yep, we get to see how Sasuke and Naruto meet and fall in love. People have been asking for that for years, and I've never really been drawn to write it, but it's a part of this because Sasuke is such a huge part of Itachi's life and purpose.

SO. Yeah. Um... in progress. I don't post things until they're done--I learned that lesson with LESSONS IN LIVING. I'm working on this in and around other novels and stories, not to mention the day job, which is ALSO writing, among other things, so it might be a while, yet. Occasionally, I post on this Tumblr (which is basically the only social media I use, these days, as i HATE Twitter/X or whatever and Instagram isn't made for words, really, etc.), so if you feel like hanging out, please do!

This is probably more than you bargained for with your lovely ask, but hopefully that's not a bad thing!

Regardless, I am delighted that you enjoy the stories, and I thank you so much for letting me know you're here.

All good things to you and yours, <3Dee

[princesscolumbia]

And now for something different from my usual!

Normally, I write some variety of fanfiction, and I'm 100% proud of nearly everything I've ever written. (Yes, even THAT one.) If I could, without any sort of IP complications, write just for fanfic I'd streamline my process and chunk out words for fanfics all day long, get a book contract, and quit my day job. In a friggin' heartbeat.

Unfortunately, fanfic has all sorts of complications if you want to make a living as an author. This, unfortunately, results in fanfic authors either quitting because the whole thing is a time sink and they have a life a job and things to get done, or they become "grown up" authors with a publishing deal and (in many cases) wind up deleting their fanworks in bulk "because they're Srs Riters™️now!"

When I wrapped up My Empire of Dirt, I took a look at the finished product and said, "...you know, I think I might just be good at this writing thing." But I had in my head the little monster that wasn't quite Imposter Syndrome (more like an ugly cousin of Imposter Syndrome) that said that no matter how good I was, nobody would ever like what I wrote, especially if it was original work.

(This was my stepmother's horrible, abusive language that she hammered into me viciously during my teenage years. Knowing the source helps, but it's still something I have to work to overcome on occasion.)

I had some ideas that I started jotting down (and yes, they're still on the 'to write' pile), but nothing really 'clicked' as a, "OMG, I've got to write this thing!"

Then I read Trouble with Horns. And I needed more, so I read Witch of Chains...and Illegal Alien in an MMO World, and Lieforged Gale, and Digital Galaxies, and Esmie the Calamity, and Coven's Rebellion, and Digital Exodus. And even as early as Witch of Chains I knew I had a story to tell that the setting of a post-WW3 Earth in the middle of The Singularity would let me tell it in.

And I realized...wait, this is it! This is my "training wheels" for writing original fics! Because QuietValerie won't do collabs with other authors anymore (long story involving the Kammiverse and RoyalRoad), but does let people play in her sandbox with carte blanch (and, best of all, no lawyers involved), I can write a fic that's got only a few connection points to Troubleverse to prop it up and draw an audience, and if AuthorBun ever disavows Code of Ethics entirely, it'll take some work but I'll be able to de-couple it entirely! It's, from the outset, 95% original work. If I have to re-jigger that last 5%...well, published authors often have to rework a LOT more of their original works than that, so...let's do this!

And it's worked for me! ALL the hesitance I used to have for writing original fics is gone. I've created interesting, dynamic characters, built out entire story worlds, constructed a complex and interwoven plot that has my readers guessing and thirsty for clues, and the only reason I haven't finished is because there's just so much story to tell!

So for this November (and no, I'm not digging into the whole NaNoWriMo corporate BS right now), I decided to take an idea that, just like Code of Ethics, seized me by the throat and said, "This story is one that needs to be told and you're the only one who can."

George lives in a world that feels gray. In spite of superheroes based in the city he lives in with his mom, the clubs he's in at school, and the handful of friends he's managed to pick up, at ripe old age of 15 years old he feels disconnected from it all. Then one day a Quantum Storm hits. These storms are how superheroes (and villains) get their powers, and George is right in the middle of it, suddenly granting him super powers…along with a brand new GIRL body! Fortunately for HER, she stumbles onto a mentor at the same time. …that all happened six months ago. Now she's in a hospital on the West coast, super-cuffed to a bed, and about to answer for her crimes…including murder. How did this happen?!

Preview, as always, below the cut:

Georgie woke up.

She was somewhat surprised to discover that she was even alive, let alone awake. After what she’d done, she was surprised that anyone had let her live at all.

After what she’d done, she probably deserved it.

It wasn’t fair, of course. It never was, but complaining about whether life was fair or not only led down the path of the supervillain, heroes accepted that life wasn’t fair and participated in the Sisyphean task of making it more fair.

She’d learned the word ‘Sisyphean’ in English class a few weeks ago. She’d never quite understood why the former-hero-turned-villain Sisyphus had gone black-cape until recently, nor had she understood how his chosen name connected to the work he had been doing. Now that she had some experience being a superhero, she thought she understood better than anyone not blessed with superpowers could.

No matter what good you did, at some point it all came crashing down.

She looked around a bit, noticing the room she was in was dark, but there was a counter with a sink across from her, a lightbox mounted to the wall, a television mounted to the ceiling, and some translucent curtains over some windows showing it was about mid-afternoon…wherever she was. What little she could make out of the landscape through the curtains didn’t look anything like the city she lived in. I was running for a long time, she mused, And for me that’s saying something.

She turned her attention back to the room and noted there was an I.V. pole next to the bed she was in and a tube snaking down to what she presumed was the pinching sensation in the back of her hand. She couldn’t follow the tube all the way down to look at her hand, not yet. Had anyone else been in her spot, they might have been overjoyed to be alive after what she’d been through. Not her, though.

For her, there was a fate worse than death, and she wasn’t ready to face that yet.

On the other side of the bed was what appeared to be a heartrate monitor, but she was no expert on medical equipment. The bit that was supposed to be showing the two-peak bumping line that represented a human heartbeat was an almost solid bar of white, though the flickering of the screen told her that it was desperately trying to record a heartrate that was far faster than the machine was capable of registering.

There was no getting around it, she was in a hospital room, and a fairly high-end one, if she could rely on what she’d seen of such things on TV as an indication.

As for the part that came next, well, she had to muster her courage…and after everything she’d been through, ‘courage’ was a word she wasn’t sure she had any claim to.

It was surprisingly hard, knowing what was coming and knowing she had to face it. Just a little longer, a voice was whispering in the back of her mind, Just let yourself imagine nothing has changed just a little bit longer, it’s not like you’re not going to find out soon enough anyway.

Available exclusively to my supporters on Patreon.

[kaelio]

Macro/micro for the fetish thing 📏

Ok, I know this ask is because of that entry in Anne Rice's journal where she watched Jack & The Beanstalk (she misremembered, I'm pretty sure this was Jack the Giant Slayer) so she could mack on Ian McShane and was annoyed the giants in it weren't hot enough, but obviously this is relevant to me because I draw micro/macro applicable stuff for a couple fandoms, or I have anyway.

The answer to this is, however, complex! Yes, in a way, but also not really, in a different way.

So first off, I like to write pornography, but it can't really get me off if I was the one who wrote it. Same with fanart. It's a writing challenge with a smack of pay-it-forward, or the sex is inherent to something I am trying to capture, but if I write it myself I'm too close to it; I remember too much of the process or mentally go into editing mode.

But as a result I tend to think of fetishes as both multipliers and ingredients.

As a consumer, I tend to think of fetishes as multipliers. Like, something that you're totally neutral on is a 1x. Something you just can't stand at all, total horny-killer, is a 0x. Hypothetically there's no upper bound but, say, 3x would mean the story is 3x hotter to you because it features that fetish. An example for me would be scat. Hard 0x. The second I see it, I'm out. No matter what else is going on, the multiplier is 0; the story is at a level of 0 hotness. The earlier answer on oviposition is like a .1x. I haven't run into a story with it that was good enough to get me off, but Bloodchild got close, so I'm saying with the deftest of hands, it can work. Micro/macro is maybe like a situational 1.2x. It's a little bump but it's not going to be make or break per se. It could be in a story where it added nothing to me.

Because that's where we get into fetishes as ingredients.

When I'm thinking about an effective piece of erotica, it's got components, right? It's expressing some notion. It'll have different ingredients in it that make up the whole, that make for a cohesive work. I do think that micro/macro can enhance some recipes a bit, but more than that, it's a virtually essential ingredient to others. Let's say you're into werewolf porn. If the werewolf is like, same-entity-size.... I dunno. Like I guess. But isn't the werewolf theme usually leaning on some sort of power dynamic that the savage nature of the werewolf highlights? The werewolf is going to be 140 lbs? Sure you don't want it to be a bit more Big? Or, to make a different point, more Small? That might take you in a funnier direction, more like a comedy premise perhaps, but something's being communicated by the inclusion of some kind of noticeable size difference.

Let's now take it over to tentacle porn. God, I tried. I have on an occasional whim thrown my lot in with Kurt Eichenwald and it just does not take. I can't get off to it. I'd love it if I could. But anyway, let's say someone's being pointedly caressed by an octopus. You can't have that be just a regular-size octopus. Kind of pathetic. Obviously, that octopus has to be bigger than an octopus should be. "Well, what if you add more octopuses, like an octopus gangbang?" Sure, that might work for some people. But for me it comes off as lacking in confidence. Oh, you had to bring all your little octopus friends to nail this twink? Sad.

Now, I am a scaley straight-up. The only limiting aspect to this, for me, is that most scalies seem to have gotten into it from like... Spyro the Dragon? And they're really cartoony. Doesn't hit. As a kid, I had books on ancient Egypt, and I was intrigued by Sobek. Also we had a caiman. And my mother would find people in the classified ads who were trying to sell giant snakes and pay for her kids to go pet (but not buy) the giant snakes so we wouldn't be afraid of snakes, like she was, so as a child I was just overwhelmingly exposed to giant (16'+) snakes. My mother would go dump us off at places where big snakes were so we could observe big snakes, like reptile shows and the reptile house at the zoo. The result of this was super funny but suffice to say I am not afraid of snakes. (Not into vore though! Does nothing for me! Responsible owners don't live-feed.) I want to be super clear: I do not want to fuck animals, never have, but I did want to nail Bleu in Breath of Fire more than you can possibly imagine. However, if I'm doing scaley stuff in particular, one simply has to admit that micro/macro is the baking soda in that quickbread. It's not the part that makes that fetish work, but it's certainly more likely to turn out the way you intended if you put a little bit of it in there. When I made Cardassians huge in my DS9 redesigns, however, that was mostly in service of it being funny since I was a major bottom-Garak advocate, the bigger they are the funnier that is. Also like, whiny old queen giant lizardman is just fun and has room to spitball where like, I don't know, a more straightforward big hot lizard man would utterly bore me. It can't all be baking soda.

[sokkastyles]

Hi,

Hope you are doing well. Thank you for the answer on the Reckonings of Roku.

I was thinking that since Zutara is considered as an "enemies to lovers" dynamic by the fans, I had once come across a quote that explained this dynamic. I don't recall the quote sadly, but it made is clear that E2L is not abuse.

Another part that you had reblogged I think was a sort of comparison between Romione from Harry Potter and Kataang, I have a feeling that the reason that these two pairings can feel similar is that the movies are what everyone sees, and the way they wrote Ron in the movies butchered his characterization from the novels and made Hermione too perfect, whereas in the books, they get together only after both go through significant growth.

I would like your thoughts on this.

The reason enemies to lovers is not abuse is because abuse is about power dynamics, not about whether two characters hate each other. Which doesn't mean an antagonistic relationship can't involve an imbalance of power that could lead to abuse, but it isn't a requirement. More to the point, abuse of power can also occur with characters who are not outright enemies. The type of abuse that is likely to happen between enemies is more easily recognized as abuse, like someone capturing and torturing an enemy. But there's a more insidious type of abuse with characters who aren't outright antagonistic to each other, because most abusers do not announce themselves as your enemy. These are the abusers that work to gain your trust as part of the grooming process. This is usually what people are afraid of when they say enemies to lovers is abuse, but is actually more likely to occur during the lovers part, and it doesn't work if you already don't trust the other person and recognize them as your enemy.

I don't remember enough about Romione in either the books or the movies, and don't care enough to look it up, to have an opinion about that. Sorry.

[synonymroll648]

no hummingbirds, no butterflies (just soft whirrs & peaceful daylight)

pairings/relationships: queerplatonic keefex, minor mentions of dex’s dynamics with his parents, + referenced dadwin (keefe & elwin as a parent-son duo of sorts)

tws: minor (autistic) overstimulation, anxiety, touch starvation, swearing, implied sexual humor (keefe’s here, what’d you expect), and i think that’s it - but please let me know if there’s more that should be added! 

summary: “I—okay, fine. You’re not patient with gadgets or alchemy or anything that’s a project,” Keefe laughs, and then his voice goes…gentle. Like midnight rain. “But you’re patient with people. You’re patient with me.”

You’re patient with me, Keefe says, and Dex thinks, What an interesting way to say ‘I love you’. 

-

OR: An exploration of what Keefe and Dex’s dynamic could’ve been if Keefe hadn’t run off to the forbidden cities.

additional notes: happy final day of @keefex-week 2023, even if this is for the day 1 prompt queerplatonic! i started this fic back in feburary as an ayyam-i-ha gift for the one and only wonderful @bookwyrminspiration​, but didn’t finish in time, and then i tried finishing it in time for its tumblr bday, and didn’t finish in time for that either. but at least i finished in time for this! i hope you enjoy the third draft of keefex being queerplatonic and neurodivergent (i wrote this with autistic!dex in the front of my mind. also, this entire fic was inspired by this keefex shitpost i made [and the really gay eckodon scene in book 4].) comments and constructive criticism are appreciated!

word count: 6.4k

ao3 link (recommended)

taglist: @gay-otlc @purplesoup-lad-le @when-wax-wings-melt @asexual-juliet @cowboypossume @xanadaus 

fic under the cut :)

Out of all the things that can surprise Dex Dizznee at 12:21am, getting hailed by Keefe Sencen isn’t one of them. 

The buzzing of his imparter laying on his bed cuts through the quiet ambiance of the noisemakers carefully placed in his room. The gadget Dex has mindlessly fidgeted with for minutes on end gets set down on his desk, and he carefully steps through the mess on his floor to pick up the hail. 

(After turning the volume down, because Keefe has accidentally woken up Dex’s parents from laughing too loud on more than one night like this.)

“Heeeey, Dexy,” Keefe deliriously croons across the line. 

Deliriously is the correct description, Dex knows, because Keefe only ever uses that tone when his guard is down—and after Loamnore, lowered guards only ever occur after a mental breakdown or from serious sleep deprivation. 

Or both.

“Hello to you too, at this totally reasonable hour for the two of us to be awake,” Dex sits down on the edge of his bed, tucking his feet up onto the mattress. 

A snicker. “Tooooootally.” 

Dex does a brief internal analysis of his face—he doesn’t have enough time to be thorough without being awkward, but no mental notes at all is bound to leave him floundering later on in the conversation. 

Dark circles → Keefe is probably at least halfway out of his mind.

Bedhead → Keefe is definitely at least halfway out of his mind.

Lots of blankets and pillows → Keefe is either content or in the middle of an existential crisis. 

Slightly more prominent freckles across the bridge of his nose than usual →  Congratulate Keefe on getting some sunshine. 

Keefe starts talking again, and Dex is glad that he doesn’t have to be the one to resume conversation. “What’d I interrupt?” 

“Me trying to get work done for the Black Swan or school but being too tired to think properly.” 

“I’m guessing you’re also too awake to go to sleep.” 

“Bingo,” Dull exasperation on Dex’s end. 

“Relatable.” Fatigue softens the ‘t’ so much that it’s only implied at best. Relatable is surrender wearing a humorous mask; Keefe’s favorite shield.

You need to say something. It’s the start to an all-too familiar chain reaction. He almost lists out all the ways You need to say something evolves into something much more panic-inducing, since lists usually help, but this is one of those few exceptions where listing it all out will screw him over. 

So Dex starts on the steps to prevent that, with an inhale quiet enough that Keefe hopefully doesn’t think he’s sighing. Next is grasping for something to contribute. Something silly, preferably. 

Dex is a second slower to reply than he’d like, but he finds something that works. His headspace relaxes once he asks, “Is the bingo card or the bingo pieces or the bingo itself relatable?” 

“Hmmmmm, good question…” Keefe tilts his gaze up to the ceiling of his starry bedroom at Splendor Plains. 

Dex takes his thoughtful pause as an opportunity to study Keefe further. He notes gulon pajamas, and eyelashes that are long and dark and confusingly nice to look at—which makes him think of the eckodon ride to Alluveterre, the first time he’d really noticed them—which makes heat begin to fester under his skin, because that was a lot of physical contact and—

—Keefe starts talking again, and it’s enough to get his brain to shut up. “Bingo pieces, probably. Sometimes I get put in situations where things work out, and sometimes I get put in situations where they don’t. Comes down to everyone else’s luck.” 

The Keefe is either content or in the middle of an existential crisis part of Dex’s mental notes from earlier resurfaces at the front of his mind, and he leans a little more towards preparing for helping Keefe through an existential crisis. 

Then Dex leans a few degrees back into the or part of the note, once Keefe cracks, “Kinda like all the backstories we came up with for Keebler elves.” 

Laughter, fast and loose and loud, threatens to explode out of Dex’s chest. He quickly covers his mouth, unable to help looking away and throwing his head back while he tries to not disturb the sleepy nighttime air that blankets Rimeshire. 

When Dex looks back down at Keefe, there’s a proud grin crinkling the corners of his eyes, smushed up against the cozy mess of his bedding. Keefe wrestles a hand out from under the blankets it was trapped under, and points directly at his imparter camera. “You thought it was funny, don’t deny it,” 

“I won’t,” Dex relents. A wistful sigh almost turns into snickers, since he’s apparently spent way too many nights talking with Keefe over the past few months. “That was probably the funnest reason for pulling an all-nighter.” 

A giggle. More than one giggle, actually. A whole stream of them, like a human song kids would get hooked on. (Giggles. Keefe is undoubtedly delirious, guaranteed to be more than halfway out of his mind. There’s no other explanation for him being so light and sunny at 12:26 in the morning.) “Best all-nighter eeee-ver! No school, just the silly.” 

Dex arcs an eyebrow like the sunrise that’s hours away. “The silly?” 

“The silly!” Beaming a childish grin, Keefe’s fist punches out of his heap of blankets and up into the air, almost as if he’s cheering for something. 

The force of it sends Keefe’s imparter—wherever it’s propped up on—toppling over. The view on Dex’s imparter shifts to close-up constellations behind glass. He hasn’t done well enough in his Universe class to be able to identify anything before Keefe cries, “Dex! Mrs. Stinkbottom! My dearest companions! Noooooooo!” 

This time, Dex has to gently bite down on his knuckles to keep himself from laughing too loud. 

(Dex has to stop himself from wondering too much about the depth behind My dearest companions too. Because he’s gone down far too many rabbit holes about whether or not he’s romantically attracted to Keefe and been left with a confusing answer of no, but also not being satisfied with the label platonic either. He just focuses on the joy of someone finding him valuable outside of his tech and alchemy skillsets.) 

There’s a smile on Dex’s face so wide it makes him feel dumb as he watches Keefe lean over his bed to try and grab at his imparter. Awkwardly angled footage goes a little fuzzy as Mrs. Stinkbottom gets pulled up before Dex. Well, not Dex, the imparter, since Dex is leaned back against his pillow and headboard and not collapsed on Keefe’s bedroom floor, but no one cares about technicalities like that other than Dex. 

Finally, Keefe’s hand presumably wraps around his imparter, and Dex’s screen is a blur as Keefe hauls ‘him’ up. “I got a little too silly for the world to handle,” he pouts. 

“The world? I don’t think me and Mrs. Stinkbottom count as the world. Pretty sure there’s a lot more to the world than that.” 

“Well, that’s the only part of the world I care about right now.” 

Don’t read into it, don’t read into it, don’t read into it— 

Dex doesn’t read into it. Because he’s a master at this seemingly mythical thing called self-restraint, if his friends are anything to go by. “I dunno, I’m pretty sure you care about your blankets and pillows right now,” 

Keefe’s lips thin into a disconcerted line. “...Yeah, I do. Caught me red-handed,” he mumbles, relaxing further into the comfortable disaster he’s wrapped himself in. “But that’s it.” 

You sure about that? he wants to ask, but takes the few seconds of silence to consider his options and turn the conversation towards something else instead. “How much have you slept?” 

Things That Would Replicate Keefe’s Hysterical Laughter at That Question When Mixed Together Properly:

Tea kettles when their contents are boiling. 

Monkeys screeching. 

Gasps from someone who almost drowned. Or ran a long distance at a high speed and finally got to stop. Or something like that. 

A recording of someone’s sobbing or laughing that could pass as both to unaware listeners.

It’s a little startling—startling enough that he jumps at the unexpected change in sound. Frantically, he turns down his imparter volume. And then Dex tries to climb under his covers as quietly as he can and curls up on his side, so he can fake being asleep if his mom pops in to check on him. (She’s a light sleeper, which she’s jokingly coined as her proof that she married into the Dizznee family instead of being born into it.) 

Keefe wipes at his eyes. “You gotta specify a time frame, Dex. Tonight? The last twenty four hours? The last week? Etcetera,” 

It takes a blip of time to remember what they’re talking about. “Last twenty four hours.” 

“I took a nap after lunch. Ro woke me up for dinner. After that, I painted until I spilled my water jar on accident. Cleaning up made me realize how tired I was, so I tried to sleep. Buuuuut…” Something about the way Keefe’s facial expression just barely shifts makes Dex suspect that he’s either gonna cough up a hard truth or lie to cover it up. “my brain wouldn’t shut off. And now we’re here.” 

Dex takes a shot in the dark—literally. The only thing lighting up his room is his open curtains. Moonlight washes the room in pale silvers and a whole scale of blues. “Was it that you couldn’t stop thinking period, or you couldn’t stop thinking about the wrong things?” 

The steady, easy rise and fall of Keefe’s form stills. It resumes when Keefe sighs and says, “Does anything get past you?” 

I’ve spent my whole life analyzing everything to the best of my ability, because I’ve spent my whole life out of the loop and fighting to get in it. It’s late at night, and your guard’s down. Of course nothing you do gets past me. Too serious, too blunt. Killjoy of a response. Dex condenses it into something lighter, but still truthful. “When it comes to you, no, not that I know of.” 

“I feel like that’s a sign that I’ve overshared on one too many nightly hails over the past few months,” Keefe tries to laugh it off, but Dex can sense the nervous undertone. 

“I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop you next time you try to open up,” Dex offers. He hopes Keefe doesn’t take him up on it. 

Dread begins to stir in his stomach as Keefe pauses to consider. It dissipates when Keefe says, “Nahhh, I trust you to not take advantage of me being stupid. Also, like—actually, you know what? Can I ramble about something? The only way my brain can make points is through stories right now. But if you want me to shut up, that’s fine.” 

“Ramble away,” Dex says. It’s nice being your number one person to talk to, even if I’m sure it won’t last forever. 

“Okay, so, earlier today—well, technically yesterday now, but no one cares—anyways. Anyways.” Keefe clears his throat, fist in front of his mouth. Eyebrows downturn in a way that’s either ironically or unironically serious; Dex can’t tell. 

Dex poorly suppresses a smile. Turns up the volume again to hear him better, and resolves to just remind Keefe, No sudden noises please, if he gets too loud again. 

“So basically, after Ro woke me up, Elwin knocked on my doorway today and told me dinner was ready if I was hungry. It was in the usual spot he leaves it for me since being in the same room as people is hard and he’s cool about me eating alone, y’know? I feel like I told you about that already, but whatever.” (Keefe has indeed told Dex about this routine. On multiple occasions.) “I hear his footsteps walking away, and I open the door and I say ‘Elwin?’”

“Out loud, or using signs?”

“Out loud,” Keefe confirms.

It’s been a month or two since Keefe managed to start saying short phrases to people aloud again, but it’s still difficult enough—especially without preparation beforehand—that it’s always a surprise to hear him mention talking out loud face-to-face recently. Dex’s eyebrows nearly touch his hairline. He holds back the Wow, Keefe, incredible job—genuinely, ready to jump off the cliff’s edge of his tongue. Lets Keefe keep talking. 

“So he turns around and he tilts his head in this way that’s like, hey, keep going. My nerves started acting up, but I managed to ask if we could eat at the table together. I had to clear my throat and clarify—well, I was really just rambling, but whatever—that sitting, like, right next to him would be too much. And I’d probably have to sit on the opposite end of the table, but he told me that was totally fine. No disappointment or anything. And we—we actually had a conversation. Not just a few sentences. I could keep up with talking back and forth for longer than a few minutes. And there was this point where he said…” Keefe stops. “He said, um. Hang on.” 

Keefe flops his face into his pillow. Dex suppresses an instinctual smile at the unintelligible noises that come out of Keefe’s throat, because he doesn’t know if they’re positive or negative. Yet. 

So he asks. “Is this good or bad?” 

Keefe nods. Confusion forms in a crease between Dex’s eyebrows. Some absurd part of Dex suspects Keefe can sense it through the screen, because he turns his face towards his imparter and clarifies, “Good. I think. I’ve just forgotten how to handle affection in general. And I’ve never known how to handle it from parental figures.” 

Parental figures has delighted surprise lighting up Dex’s face for a split second before he smooths his expression out into something neutral again. Elwin’s always been a lot better than Cassius. Keefe maybe, just maybe, finding someone else to call ‘dad’ or something like it would be good for him. 

Dex hopes they get there. Eventually. 

Dex also doesn’t know if it’s too early to tell Keefe that, so he errs on the side of caution. “From what I’ve heard you tell me, I don’t think Elwin minds that you don’t really know what you’re doing. But what did Elwin say to you? You cut yourself off.”

Keefe blinks, a bit slow to respond. “Sorry, I was processing that first sentence. Uh. He said that he was really proud of me. For,” —Keefe’s laugh in between words is bittersweet— “being so brave about all of this. And I thought he was playing up how he felt to make me feel better, so I told him that he didn’t have to lie to me. Then he told me that he was being dead serious, and he was sorry he didn’t say it more often. And he tried complimenting me more, but, um, I—I told him to stop because I didn’t want to start crying, y’know? Especially since I couldn’t—can’t hug him. Or anything like that,” 

Dex doesn’t really know how this relates to whatever point(s?) Keefe was trying to make earlier about trusting Dex, but he’ll roll with the punches. “I’m not a professional on emotions or anything, but I think it’s okay to get overwhelmed by someone being nice to you when you’re used to literally nothing at best.” 

“That’s…” Keefe goes quiet. Dex wonders if he said the right or wrong thing. Hopefully it was right. It feels right, at least. “That’s good to hear. Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Dex says, and gives him a tired smile. Not because he’s tired of Keefe, but because it’s who knows what hour in the morning now and Dex has been on a losing streak with his sleep schedule for roughly a week now. 

Keefe sighs. “I wish I could hug you,” he whines. “You’re always so nice about putting up with my bullshit, and you’re cute when you’re tired, and I call you all the time but I still miss you because it’s not the same as when I could wrap my arm around you and say I’ve got you, Dexy, without physical consequences.” 

There are many, many things that Dex could think in response to that. There are many, many things that Dex does think in response to that. But the first thing that comes to mind is if this conversation had been a string of imparter texts, Keefe would have written something along the lines of “:(((“ at least once just now. 

Keefe bulldozes on. “Like, you’re so…patient,” 

And then Dex cuts him off with a snort. “You are the first person I have ever heard call me patient. Ever.” 

“I—okay, fine. You’re not patient with gadgets or alchemy or anything that’s a project,” Keefe laughs, and then his voice goes…gentle. Like midnight rain. “But you’re patient with people. You’re patient with me.”

You’re patient with me, Keefe says, and Dex thinks, What an interesting way to say ‘I love you’. 

It’s an observation. Not a revelation, because Dex has known for months now that his dynamic with Keefe is defined by oddities. They are misfits on the outskirts of everything they know. They are two boys that don’t fit neatly into any boxes—one with a genetically modified ability that’s drastically altered his life in ways no one knows how to fix, and the other the son of a bad match that’s become a regent at 15 and a Black Swan technopath even younger. They are more than that, too, and they see all of that more in each other. They see all the mundane more and the wild more and all the more in between that doesn’t fit into any box society likes. They’ve been seeing more of all the more in one another over these past few months, and scrapping their discoveries together like spare parts into something that’s probably confusing and worthless to the rest of the world, but it works for them.

Progressing without refining, coloring outside the lines—it’s not what mechanics or artists are supposed to do, but for this piece, for their style, for their invention, it works for them.

This weird version of love that they have, that seems to permanently float either between or outside platonic and romantic binaries (Dex is too sleepy to tell): it works for them.

It works for them.

“You make being patient worth it, Keefe. You always do, in the long run.”

Half-lidded eyes shoot wide, and Dex can’t tell if the glaze over icy irises is due to tears or lighting until Keefe’s turning away and whining, “Dex, what the fuck did I say about not wanting to cry?” 

Dex is glad that his words touched Keefe, since his hands can’t. Appreciation presents itself through amused exhales at the smile on Keefe’s face that won’t go away. “I thought you liked honesty, though?” he teases. 

Keefe rolls back over in his twist of bedding to glare at his imparter, but it looks more like a pout. “Yeah, but I also like not having a crisis over whether or not—I’m pretending I live in an ideal world that doesn’t hate me, by the way—I want to draw you a bajillion times or paint you a bajillion times or tickle fight you until you’re in hysterics because I like the way your laugh sounds or hug you for an eon normally or hug you for an eon the way we did on the eckodon or if I want to kiss you. And I know that last part’s probably overreacting, but also, I can’t tell if it’s wanting to, like, kiss you on the cheek? Or more than that? Or less? Which makes things harder and way more confusing,” 

Dex’s eyebrows aren’t practically touching his hairline, they are touching his hairline. (In spirit. Because eyebrow muscles don’t work like that in the real world. He thinks.) Dex adds You want a REPEAT of the eckodon ride? onto his mental list of conversation topics, then asks the slightly more pressing question he got from Keefe’s rambling: “You want to kiss me?” 

Because Keefe Sencen? Renowned heartthrob that had half the girls at Foxfire wrapped around his finger without even trying that hard? Wanting to kiss him? Him? Dex Dizznee? The sheer notion was fucking absurd. Bonkers. Ridiculous.

“I mean—like—listen—okay, just, just let me explain before your brain runs wild, I know how you are,” Keefe splutters.

Dex suppresses a grin at Keefe being the flustered one for once. “Oh, I’m definitely listening.” 

“Okay, so, first off, kissing was a brief idea that popped into my head when I thought, How do I show Dex how much I care about him? Kind of like an afterthought. And the original afterthought was, like, impulsively kissing your cheek. In a goofy way. Not full-on making out with you or anything.” Keefe pauses, and two things shift in the meantime: Keefe’s facial expression tipping off of panic into thoughtfulness, and Dex’s facial color gradually sliding from its pale base color to a blush that only gets more vivid as Keefe talks. “Though I probably wouldn’t complain if we made out, but it’s not something I’m yearning for every second of every day or anything. The possibility only just hit me, after all. I want it if you want it, I mean. But if you don’t, I’m all good. We’re all good.” 

Dex blinks. Throws all caution to the wind, and thinks about it. Thinks about whether or not he’d like that kind of kissing from Keefe. Keefe would most likely start slow, because that feels like a Keefe thing to do, so Dex imagines that. Imagines how he might feel if they were whispering to directly into each other’s ears instead of each other’s imparters, if Keefe pulled him in for a kiss instead of keeping his distance without compromising himself—

—and almost immediately thinks No thanks. Which is a little odd, since he likes the way Keefe looks and acts, but his stomach hollows out at the idea of another mouth moving over his, no matter how kind the intention. Mashing two mouths together is an overrated display of affection hyped up too much by mom’s romcoms and other romance enthusiasts is the explanation for it that pops up into Dex’s head. The lack of spark or pull that Dex feels towards kissing in general plus the weirdness of textures and germs interacting through mouth to mouth contact probably factors into his opinion too.

Overriding that kind of mind and body instinct feels wrong, so Dex offers up more honesty to Keefe. “I think I’ll pass on the kissing. Making-out kissing, at least. Kissing anyone makes me feel weird—a bad kind of weird, if you get what I mean.” 

“Sir yes sir!” Keefe barks out, giving him a cheesy salute, and Dex giggles. “Thank you for making it easier to make my brain shut up about kissing you. The identity crisis prevention is appreciated.” 

“Of course, of course,” Dex jests. “But for the record, I don’t think you potentially wanting to kiss boys in general is a bad thing. As long as they’re good for you, y’know?” 

Quiet overlays Keefe’s demeanor, and Dex can practically hear the gears in his brain turning. Processing. Then Keefe gives a small smile and says, “Thanks, Dex. I’ll keep it in mind. Buuuuuut,” Keefe claps his hands suddenly, and Dex nearly jumps out of his skin. “I’m not in the mood for heavy introspection right now! Soooo…maybe you could tell me about the things I said that you’d be okay and not okay with instead? For the sake of, like, boundaries and stuff.” 

“Ah, yes. Discussing boundaries when we’re both sleep deprived and not thinking straight. Incredibly intelligent move.” 

Dex apparently didn’t put enough lightheartedness into his deadpan, because Keefe scrambles to backtrack. “I mean, yeah, you have a point, we can do that sometime later in daylight, or later, or never. Whatever you feel like. No worries.” 

“I was joking. We can and probably should talk about it now, even if we’re not 100% functioning,” Dex reassures. 

“Okay. Um. Where do you want to start?” 

Dex references his mental conversation prep list, and plucks out a relevant item he hasn’t used yet. (He will use the sunshine comment before the end of this hail, or so help him.) “Can we talk about the whole ‘basically wanting a repeat of the eckodon ride’ thing? Because in the moment you seemed pretty eager to end that, and I’m simultaneously confused and curious at your…change of heart, so to speak.” 

A hypothesis Dex will never be able to test the accuracy of: If Keefe weren’t under the weak starlight of his bedroom walls and somewhere brighter in this moment, Dex would be able to see a flush crawling over Keefe’s ears. Perhaps even over his cheeks, too. The musing is based on evidence—the hand running through Keefe’s bedhead, the loaded exhale, the averted gaze, the upper teeth worrying his lower lip. 

Anxiously, Keefe chants strings of swears under his breath before composing himself a little. “First things first, just to know how much of my dignity I’m losing here at whatever time of night it is right now, can you tell me how often you think about the eckodon ride? And what you think of it, if you do think of it at all?” 

Oh god. Dex had not prepped for actually talking about that. At all. 

So much for not floundering later on in the conversation, he curses his past self. 

“Do you want me to start right now and then just pause and backtrack when I word things wrong, or do you want me to try and get things sorted out before I talk?” Clarification and a counterattack, a delay of the inevitable. 

“Take your time,” Keefe murmurs. 

Dex does. While Keefe breathes in a purposeful pattern he messes up every now and then, Dex rearranges the scramble of thoughts in his head until every piece is in the right place. And then he double checks to make sure it’s right. And when he thinks Maybe I should triple check, he forces the words out into a freefall and hopes that when they collide into the connection between him and Keefe, it won’t hurt. “Before I get into emotional vulnerability, I would like to say that I still stand by my opinion that your breath stunk. You need to invest in having carry-on breath mints at all times, dude.” 

Keefe bursts out laughing, and it’s everything from playful ocean waves curling and splashing at his lower legs on a shoreline walk to distant melodies whispered in the wind. “I’ll do that, next time I go out,” Keefe promises, and for now, only Dex will ever know how big it is to hear Keefe make plans for a more social future he said he’d given up on at the beginning of these nighttime hails. “But only if you do too. Because I swear, your breath rivaled gulon farts, my guy.” 

But only if you do too. My guy. It softens Dex like the glow of the stars outside his window. His smile is a crescent in the dark. “Fine, fine, I will. Maybe I’ll make my own and hail you so you can watch alchemy antics.” 

“Please do. But finish talking first.” 

Dex takes a deep breath. “Okay. Uh. Where was I?” 

“Emotional vulnerability, I think?” 

Exhale, trace back to which thought he left off on, and go. Hurtle out of comfort and into the brilliantly terrifying unknown. Speak before the end of the fall. “Right, emotional vulnerability time. I don’t think of the eckodon ride every second of every day or anything. But it pops up from time to time. More often when I’m talking to you, of course, but it’s not like I can hear whale songs or see Z-shaped objects without at least briefly thinking about it. As for what I think of the eckodon ride, I think…” Dex falters. Stumbles. His carefully constructed thoughts flutter just out of reach. 

What was I thinking earlier? What have I thought about it before? “I think it was nice. Confusingly nice, but nice. I felt—it felt—it was different. A lot more physical contact than I was used to. And I guess I liked looking at you close up more than I was willing to admit before. Noticing little details was interesting—like how long your eyelashes are, since I didn’t really have anywhere to look but your eyes and I usually try to look close to people’s eyes but not quite since I get distracted by their eyes when they talk if I make eye contact, but we weren’t talking, and I just got to look, and—ugh, I’m rambling. That sounds weird. My words aren’t, I dunno what the word is—wording? Right? That’s wrong, but whatever. My words aren’t wording. You get what I mean.” 

Dex drags his hands down his face, and grimaces at the light layer of sweat that’s built up there in such a small amount of time. Has the freefall ended yet? Will his stomach please stop hollowing out? 

The freefall crashes to an end, and Dex slips out of the wind into into safe waters when Keefe asks, “So you didn’t mind how close we were the whole time?” 

With only the moon as a witness, the timidness in Keefe’s voice is clear. With only the moon as a witness, all the air empties out of Dex’s lungs when he says “I didn’t really mind, but I thought you did,” into what feels like six feet underneath the sky. 

Thuds pulse loudly in his veins and ears in the real silence. Every gentle slide of fabric moving with the crests and troughs of Dex’s breathing feels like the edge of too much, but Dex doesn’t know which side of the edge it falls onto. Staring at his imparter is too much now, too, so he turns his face into his pillow and swipes his thumb back and forth across his sheets as a nearly futile distraction from his frazzled senses. 

Keefe reels him out of it, out of the increasingly weird stimulation levels and the imaginary water. “I didn’t really mind either, and I didn’t know what to do with that, so I shoved you away and jumped to something that I understood. And then I tried not to think about it. Which worked for a while, but then Loamnore happened, and now it’s really hard to not think about how much I miss being close to people, which makes it extra hard to not think about the eckodon ride when I’m around you, and now we’re here.”

A hum vibrates in Dex’s throat; it resonates with all the gadgets scattered around his room on sleep mode. “So originally, you didn’t want to fully process the eckodon ride, but now that you have, you miss that kind of proximity?” 

“Yes,” Keefe breathes out a syllable and longing. 

“That makes sense,” Dex nods to himself. 

Contemplation lulls talking from either end of the line to sleep for a little while, but not Dex. Yet. At some point, Dex’s imparter slipped so that he couldn’t see Keefe and Keefe couldn’t see him. Not focusing on the changes in his expressions and environment, when it’s so late and quiet and Dex woke up at 2am yesterday and hasn’t slept since, makes it a little difficult to stay awake. 

“So if I end up being able to handle touching people at some point in the future,” Keefe starts, and Dex starts at the sudden verbalism and the hope in his voice that they both thought he’d lost, “kissing you is a no, but hugs are a yes?” 

“Hugs are a yes,” Dex agrees. 

“What about, um—” Keefe stops short. 

Laziness compels Dex to flick his imparter upright with telekinesis instead of just reaching over and grabbing it. He raises an eyebrow at Keefe. “What about what?” 

Dex is the furthest thing the elvin world knows to an empath, and yet. And yet. He can feel Keefe’s embarrassment through the countless miles separating Rimeshire and Splendor Plains. Keefe’s almost completely buried beneath blankets, pressed deep enough into his pillow that only some messy blond tufts are visible. 

“This is so stupid,” Keefe grumbles into fabric. 

“I think this is rather funny, actually. Hilarious, even,” Keefe can’t see Dex’s shit-eating grin. “Share with the class, Keefe. How were you gonna finish that sentence? Be honest,” 

(Dex turns down his imparter volume to the lowest setting. Just in case a certain froster is wandering around the halls with those silent mom feet of hers and walks in at the worst time possible.) 

Dex thinks he hears Keefe mumble holding hands, but that seems far too innocent to be correct, so he asks, “What?” 

Keefe pops up out of his cocoon. He looks like he wants to shrivel up and disappear to somewhere that’s anywhere but near his imparter. “Holding hands. That’s how I was going to end the sentence.” 

Suspicion narrows Dex’s eyes. “Considering the kind of jokes you like to make, I feel like it takes more than the idea of holding hands to get you flustered,” 

“Not anymore,” 

Dex can’t tell if Keefe is whining or scraping the surface of loneliness that he’s shoved aside for tonight, and decides it’s a good idea to pull him away from that. He can lament his losses when the sun’s there to smatter more freckles along the bridge of his nose. “Getting back to the point—you wanted to know how I felt about you wanting to hold my hand?” 

Slowly, Keefe nods. 

“I don’t see why it’d be anything to get flustered about. We used to hold hands for light leaping all the time. Extending that doesn’t seem like a huge deal, in this hypothetical.” 

“How the fuck are you so chill about this but I’m not,” Keefe says, and yeah, he’s definitely whining now. 

Dex laughs. “My serious answer is because 1) I’m not touch starved and 2) we’re talking theoreticals, and my emotions kind of take a backseat during conversations like these so my critical thinking skills can take the wheel, since it feels like there’s no stakes since it’s all, as I said, theoretical. My joking answer, on the other hand, is because I’m cooler than you.” 

Keefe cracks a smile. “True, true,” 

“Anything else you wanted to talk about?” 

“Is there anything else I said earlier that you’re not cool with?” Keefe returns. 

“List it off again?” 

“Uhhhh…” What some humans would call Keefe’s ‘Adam’s apple’ bobs as he tips his head back and thinks. He raises one hand and flips up a finger for each item he rattles off. “Stuff we haven’t talked about yet: Me wanting to draw you a bajillion times, me wanting to paint you a bajillion times, me wanting to get into a tickle fight with you just because I like how your laugh sounds, and teeeechnically cuddling?” 

This is the kind of thing that Dex should probably have to mull over for a while, but answers come to him oddly easily. “All of those are fine, but I will warn you that I might kick you on instinct if you tickle me too much. Which isn’t that hard. My dad makes fun of me all the time for still being ticklish. He said that Dizznees usually have built up immunity to tickles by my age.” 

Keefe blinks. Numerous times. Exaggeratedly. “Normally I’d be losing my mind at you being cool with me using you as a pillow for no reason, but I’m way too stuck on tickle immunity being a thing you can build up.” 

Dex forgets to be quiet with his wheezing. “Dude, I have so many whack stories about things me and my family have done that have to do with tickling. Like, my dad said that when he was a level two he’d make elixirs specifically to give him vampire fangs so he could bite his siblings harder when they tried to tickle him,” 

The tea kettle monkey screeching hysterical laughter from before comes back with a vengeance, and Dex is very glad his imparter is as quiet as it can be without deafening Keefe out entirely. “I need the full story now,” he gasps out. 

“You’re in for a ride,” Dex says, settling into a more comfortable position on his bed. But then he remembers one thing he swore he’d say before this hail ended, and makes sure to look the camera head on when he comments, “Oh, by the way, before I don’t shut up for another three hours, good job getting some sunshine. The freckles look nice on you.” 

Horror rounds Keefe’s eyes comically. He frantically runs his fingers along his cheeks as if his aforementioned freckles were braille spelling out some awful message on his face. “You can see them?” 

“How else would I know they look nice on you?” 

Keefe groans and curls up like the roly poly bugs Dex loved to pick up as a kid. Keefe’s imparter falls forward, and the imparter screen thumps into fuzzy blackness. “I chase Bullhorn around the property so Elwin can have a break for a day one time, and this is how the world rewards me,” 

“As I basically told you already: I think it’s a great reward. Anyway. Wanna hear about just how petty my family gets or not?” 

“I’m 100% down, Dexy. Hit me with good old storytime.” 

Storytelling hasn’t ever really been Dex’s thing, but Keefe doesn’t seem to have high standards, which is nice. (The other explanation is that Dex is better at storytelling than he thinks, which he refuses to believe because he hates being wrong about anything ever.) He laughs more than Dex expected, and insists on getting his sketchbook at one point to draw out certain parts, and then they both giggle so hard they can’t breathe. They gesture and talk and talk and talk until Keefe says his throat and ribs hurt, and Dex agrees on that last part. 

Dex’s last thought before his breathing slows and evens out is some hazy musing of how nice it is that he can be Keefe’s person without having to feel hummingbirds or butterflies to get there. 

Both of their imparters are on when they fall asleep to soft whirrs and wake up to peaceful daylight.

[waitingonher]

hiii, i was wondering if i could request a matchup for atla.

since i'm bi i don't have any gender preference. i'm 5'6, with brown skin and 4c black hair that i usually keep in box braids. i'm like halfway between chubby and skinny. i have brown eyes and plump lips with a rather flat nose. my love languages are acts of service and physical touch. i like playing tennis, doing makeup and reading, especially fantasy books. i also enjoy drawing even though i suck at it. my ideal first date would be a romantic picnic on the beach. when i look for a partner i focus mstly if our humour and values match up. i don't really care about the rest. i speak 5 languages fluently and i'm the oldest sister (i have two little sisters) i loathe bugs especially flies.

i would really appreciate getting a matchuo but no pressure to you or anything

💞

your matchup is . . . zuko!!

fire lord zuko who thinks that you deserve the world and more! (because you do)

dates with zuko down to the town’s marketplace! your favorite part is visiting the local artisans, you and zuko love supporting their businesses. he knows you so entirely well because when you even glance slightly at some sort of pottery or jewelry with a certain look in your eye, zuko knows that he has to get it for you. 

most of the times, you always fight your boyfriend about him buying you things, but it always ends the same: him successfully pulling out the money and you walking away with a new bag in hand. 

zuko would spend the entirety of the fire nation’s national funds if it meant making you happy!! 

due to both of your busy schedules, you two often try to help each other out in terms of chores and other smaller acts of service. 

despite having maids and servants around the palace, zuko never lets any of them into his personal office. he has a very particular way of organizing his documents and papers, and he finds it too tedious to explain every single aspect of his methods to them. but over time, after spending many long sleepless nights with him in his office, you’ve come to recognize and memorize his organizational habits. 

so after weeks of zuko working tirelessly in his office, probably more earth kingdom affairs, he’s burnt out and most definitely too worn out to even think about the mess that remains in his work space. with a little free time in your schedule, you decide to take on the job of organizing his office, carefully sorting everything away into its rightful spaces. 

the look in his eyes when you take him to his office for “a surprise” makes everything worth it. 

zuko would appreciate somebody who’s well versed in other languages! when it comes to diplomatic affairs with other nations, he values your input due to your knowledge in international customs and traditions. 

he also relates to you on a deeper level when it comes to siblings! while the sibling dynamics may be vastly different, zuko can relate to being the eldest sibling and the struggles that come with it. 

it’s imperative to zuko that he maintains a strong relationship with your family. he always goes the extra mile to impress them! whether it be importing some sort of flower that's native specifically to the water tribe or commissioning clothes to be made for them from his own personal seamstress, he just wants to make sure they’re happy. 

despite being the literal fire lord, zuko was so so so incredibly nervous meeting your family. he couldn’t stop checking his hair in the mirror or making sure that the gifts he brought for them didn’t somehow magically disappear out of the gift bag. but honestly, zuko had no reason to worry because your parents love him as if he were one of their own, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

your second contender was . . . sokka!!

. . .

author's note: i kinda wrote this with post-atla show zuko in mind, so when he finally becomes the fire lord at the end of the show! hope you enjoy nonnie! <3

[heart2beom]

Hellooo I’ve said this as an anon before but I absolutely love your writing! Unrelated, but I was wondering if you have any Beomgyu fic recommendations? I read everything I could in the long post containing fic recs on your previous 4beomy account and I loved every single one of them, but now I can’t find anything left so I’m just rereading my faves LOL Thank you! (And also, thank you for writing! Again, your fics make me so happy)

You’re sooo sweet, thank you for complimenting me not once but TWICE 😭😭?? In terms of recs, I honestly have no idea if I’ve read anything much lately so I had to quickly cruise through my likes both on here and my old blog 😭

I present to you the list of beomgyu fics I’ve decently enjoyed (hopefully no repeats from my other list):

-> Message in a Bottle by @delacyrose224

very cute stuff, best friends to lovers...everyone knows at this point, but i'll forever express my love for this basic ass trope (i literally have a full list of books for b2l. the best romance books come from this trope!!!). one thing i loved about this fic is the portrayal of beomgyu-- just a genuinely good guy. the way he was discreet about his jealousy instead of making a whole deal about it, like fuck i love a mature, healthy dynamic, its so freaking cute

-> Night In by @tqmies

a dark fic, but its so good. i especially liked the fantasy element/twist on a common trope. everything about this is well written but the ending will give you some heebie jeebies (cant believe i just used that) its some fucked up shit 😭 um but b2l beomgyu!! (shoot me in the head)

-> A Recipe for Love by @tinietaehyun

who doesnt love a good old b2l beomgyu roommate fluff!?!?! it's soooo freaking cute i swear i never giggled so much 😭 this writer in general is very good with words and imagery, it's incredibly vivid.

-> how could you not know? by @angelbythewindow

have you noticed the pattern? yeah, it's another b2l. i LOVED the use of flashbacks here and the cute usage of the childhood "beanpole" nickname like shut up do you want me to die? the emotions here were OVERPOWERING. i felt everything beomgyu felt, felt everything mc felt, it was just sosososososo well written.

-> Why We (Don't) Work by @cafeseoulmate

haha. definitely not another b2l!!! i never included this on my other blog's rec list (bcs i dont think it was out at the time) but it is my most recent reblog on 4beomy so i'm fairly sure you've seen it. but regardless, for anyone else who's looking for beomgyu fics, please please please READ THIS. i wouldn't say it's a plot sort of story, it builds off of a lot of flashbacks and whatnot, but that's what makes it so great. like you get a feel for their relationship, why both characters just wouldn't work out (hence the title) but then the more you read the more you're like...alright... YOU KNOW?? like fuck, i almost teared up by the end it was such a cute love confession. a must read for all the bamtoris.

-> slam dunk, lover boy by @qqtxt

just absolutely cute stuff. check out everything from this blog, just binge, you're guaranteed fluffy cuteness. nothing really happens between the two here, but its still really cute and ykw i wanted some change here, so this is a sprinkle of e2l beomgyu

-> Stood Up by @imaginidol

okay, it's angst, i'll be straight up. but idk it was an enjoyable read, even though a little sad at the end 😭

-> Moonflower by @sleeping-sirens

really sweet short stuff, i love beomgyu i swear

-> somniferous confessions by @gyu-xiao

i don't usually read bulleted fics (this is the only one i've read actually 😭) but this is worth the read. i genuinely squealed a few times, giggled like tons, it was so adorable i loved it.

-> be my date by @blossom-hwa

honestly a little bit of a blur, i read this ages ago, but it's good because blossom hwa wrote it like trust me.

-> i know i love you by @universecorp

tried really hard to not include smut but this is definitely a little more plot driven than it is smut, it's sweet. a little angsty but i love it. smut at the end is definitely skippale, just concluding it as the fact that they made love is cute enough too 😭

-> check yes, juliet by @fairyofthestar

-> Yours Truly by @boba-beom

so so freaking cute. we're back with the b2ls but who cares, we all know it fits him so well!!!

-> old friend by @hueningshaped

a little bit of a spin on the fake dating trope and i love it. exes pretending to be lovers? hello? i'm so happy the ending wasn't hard hitting 😭

Fics I'm looking forward to read:

-> The Case by @tinietaehyun

not beomgyu centered but idk i love everything this person has written so far so i'm going to tackle this series. give it a read, i'm sure this'll give someone a good mindfuck since it is a detective series 😭

-> Ashen by @writingmochi

i think i might read this tonight actually, but yeah definitely check this one out. i can sniff out a great writer when i see one!!!!

-> Newsflash! by @ijhyo

teaser has me hooked, like everything about the secret identity...yeah, will wait on it.

-> This Love by @delacyrose224

ive always thought a beomgyu and taehyun love triangle would be a recipe for a perfect fic like… it just makes so much sense because theyre so different in personalities and that clash is just a perfect storm for a love triangle. so i will be reading 🙏 plus, it’s decently long! does it get any better?

Hopefully I got you covered for a couple of days anon 😭 I'll go back to reblogging recommended fics again once I get my shit together at uni, too many good writers out here 💔

[gamesception]

Sception Reads Cass Cain #41

Batgirl (2000) #20 - November 2001 writer: Chuck Dixon...............pencils: Damion Scott inks: Robert Campanella......colors: Jason Wright

That month long hiatus turned into two months & change. Whoops. And I'm not really back on a regular schedule yet either, am super busy with real life stuff through the end of June at least, so this project won't be back onto a reliable weekly schedule till then at the earliest. But it's been too long since I posted one of these. so here we go.

We've got a pretty interesting issue from a couple angles here, in that it's sort of an echo of Cass's early appearances with Tim, where Cass first appeared together with him in his book, an appearances that imo didn't work very well or build an interesting dynamic or present Cass in a good light, but then Tim appears in Cass's book and is handled much better than she was in his, and they do take the time to start building a dynamic while acknowledging that the previous teamups were more strained than they needed to be.

Well we sort of have that again here, where Cass's first interaction with Steph over in Robin 88 was brief and gruff and had Cass acting kind of uncharacteristically rude and dismissive, but then Steph appears here in Cass's book and the interaction is a bit more substantial, with more of an effective dynamic built up, and with Steph handled imo better here than Cass was there. One ~could~ start to frame a pattern of Cass's creative team treating guests from other gotham books better than those teams treat Cass, an impression I admit to having back in the day.

However, that framing isn't (and wasn't) well founded, especially in this case. Mostly because, while this is Cass's book, Chuck Dixon, Robin's usual writer, is guest writing this issue. There's also far less of a disconnect between the depiction of Cass and her interactions with Stephanie going from Robin 88 to Batgirl 20 than there was for Cass and Tim going from Robin 73 to Batgirl 18. Which I suppose isn't too surprising given that Dixon wrote both Robin 88 and Batgirl 20, but it's also worth pointing out that there was far less time separating those issues than the other two. Cass was still brand new when Robin 73 released, and those writers not directly responsible for inventing her can maybe be forgiven for not quite understanding her back then.

I do think Dixon does a much better job with Cass here than he has when writing her previously, and while Scott's art certainly factors into it, it's not just that. Like, seriously, I've complained about Dixon in the past, but this is a good fun book worth reading if you haven't yet before I go spoiling it. It's also a proper Cass story - 'street level' story with no super powers or costumed villains, somewhat downbeat tone - despite Steph livening things up a good bit. Emotional/interpersonal focus, with themes of family connection, obligation, and strife - which keeps Cass's core motivations and relationships in mind even though they aren't brought up explicitly in this issue.

Honestly, I remember liking this one even way back when it first came out, and at the time I hadn't even noticed that there was a guest writer at all - though looking back there are a few tell tale signs.

Cass's attitude towards Steph still feels kind of uncharacteristically rude & aggressive, very much in line with her portrayal in Robin 88. While you can kind of feel them building a bit of a rapport over the course of the issue, you don't get the feeling of a fundamental shift the way we did with Tim's comments towards the end of Batgirl 18.

Then again, Tim is a self reflective and verbally expressive character, and Cass isn't, so a similar "I realize I've treated you unfairly in the past and I'll try to be better in the future" would have been even more out of character for Cass. Especially at this point in Cass's development where she's still more or less at a low point - living on her own, not really having any life or connections outside of Batgirl, 100% believing that Shiva's going to kill her in a few months. Which I guess is a fair enough in-character explanation for her attitude towards Stephanie, so there we go

That's a lot of rambling without even getting into the actual issue? I kind of don't feel up to the whole panel by panel playback, but it is a solid issue and worth going back to look at for fans of Cass and Steph - particularly as a pair - through the years. This isn't their first meeting, but it is their first adventure together, their first real interaction, and the start of an interpersonal connection that would come to be particularly important for both characters, a connection for Cass outside of her foundational dynamics with Bruce, Babs, and her father. Something they tried to do with Conner though it didn't quite take.

The set up plays naturally. Cass accidentally interrupts a money exchange situation for a kidnapping, ends up with a ransom note and a bunch of goons too dead and/or unconscious to interrogate over the kidnappee's location. Cass can't read the note, and she doesn't want to ask Bruce because she doesn't want to disappoint him by not being able to take care of the situation on her own, and she doesn't want to ask Babs because she doesn't want to disappoint her by demonstrating how little progress she's made on learning her letters. So she turns to Steph, someone she isn't worried about disappointing because, to put it bluntly, she doesn't respect Stephanie and so doesn't care about her opinion.

so a few things to point out from these panels alone - once again we see the most immediately identifiable difference between Puckett writing Cass and anybody else writing her - that reliance on narration blocks to convey Cass's interior thought process instead of letting the art do that work. Not that narration blocks are inherently bad, or used poorly here. They're kept short and sparing, they authentically feel like Cass's voice, and they don't clutter the panel art. As we've discussed several times, working with another artist they might even be necessary, especially with Cass's full face mask. Though with how Scott draws Cass I think they could have been pared back even further.

Speaking of Scott's art, I love these panels. The close up panels on isolated bits of text conveying how meaningless and arbitrary the markings feel to Cass. Her 'ugh' facial expression as she realizes all she's got to go on is this written note that she can't read, meaning she's going to have to ask for help. That panel with Cass and Steph sitting on the bed, lit by the window behind them is also amazing. I'm sure a lot of the credit there goes to Campanella's inks and Wrights colors as well, so yeah, once again the whole team for Cass's initial run really was great.

It's not just Cass, either. Stephanie's expressions are also fantastic here - in the bits where her face is visible. In costume, Scott doesn't do the drawn-through / shrinkwrapped face thing like with Cass, you can't see steph's expressions in the costume as that would mess with the look of her mask & hood, though I think Scott could maybe have pushed the expressiveness of her costumes eye shapes a bit more, spiderman style.

Some other just random bits I like in this issue:

Take out the speech bubbles and the target retinue and I'd love to have a poster of this panel of these two just sitting on a street light.

Though I'm not sure what the point of the target is here? I don't think anybody has a gun pulled on them?

Fighting as a team. Real dynamic duo stuff.

Oh, yeah, turns out the kidnapping was faked, with one guy pretending to kidnap himself to get money his brother had refused to just give him for his latest scheme. A fun little twist.

And we end on this nice bit which potentially sets up more of an ongoing relationship between Cassandra and Stephanie. And she does appear again periodically, more so than Conner did, including in the very next issue.

Adly, though, she didn't really become a regular supporting Character on par with Bruce or even Barbara. Which is too bad. As I said with Conner, the addition of a voice in Cassandra's life outside of Bruce & Babs, more of an emotional peer rather than mentor/parent/older sibling type, someone who could provide a more effective counterpoint to Bruce's emotional influence, would have done Cass good as a character, and might also have provided some appreciated levity to Cass's book, which, yeah, the sombre tone is intentional, but sometimes it can be a bit excessively downbeat.

And while Conner could have done that, Stephanie is a much more natural choice for it - fitting into Cass's street-level focus, plus all the natural character parallels with them both having villainous fathers - an obvious connection that somehow doesn't come up here.

Then again, the regular presence of someone as chatty as Conner or Steph might have been overbearing - overshadowing the less verbal Cass in her own book and working against that foundational principle of letting the art carry more of the burden of conveying the narrative and characterization. So maybe its better that Steph was used as sparingly as she was.

Still, there's a reason why a duo book pairing Cass and Steph was #1 on my comic book wish list for the longest time - pretty much right up until the new 52 reboot that removed the version of those characters that I was invested with from continuity. And the strength of the pairing can already be seen here in their first real outing.

[wrongcaitlyn]

Do you have any fame aus or anything else that inspired you for the dear reader series?

no fame au's, unfortunately :( i am a BIG fan of fame au's, however, so i do have some recs! but the inspiration for dear reader was largely just me listening to my music and forming an au around it - one playlist turned into two, which turned into seven, which turned into 16, etc - and then i had a full au plot in my head😭

but for recs!! i bookmark pretty much every fame au i read just because i love them so much. they're definitely my niche i just cannot stop putting these people on red carpets - and it's always been this waySDKJF

you'd be paranoid too (if everyone was out to get you) by harrowhark is a catradora fame au (popstar!catra) and it was one of the first fics i ever read on ao3 and literally changed my brain chemistry. now this was like 3-4 years ago, so it's been a while since i've read it, even though when i was in my shera hyperfixation i re-read it like six times i think - if you ARE a shera fan, i would 100% recommend this one, i still remember how incredible it was! did it inspire the dear reader-verse specifically? no, they're very different in terms of plot/characters, but i feel like if i'm talking about fics that inspired me this one's essential😭

everyone wake up new jinx album just dropped by Drindrak is similar to the first one in that it is a fame au that just made me love the trope so much, even though it is much more crack than angst, unlike you'd be paranoid😭it's an arcane fic where jinx... becomes a popstar? except it's like, set in runeterra and vi is still in jail and all of that. like. I DONT KNOW HOW TO EXPLAIN HOW MUCH I FUCKING LOVE ITSKDF i swear i just love a good crack fic every now and then, and this did it WITH fame?? i love. and so yeah, looking back on it, i actually do think it inspired dear reader a bit in the way that jinx was absolutely chaotic (will i ever stop on the jinx nico parallels? i wrote a goddamn solangelo timebomb au already but i'm still going to be pointing it out)

he was seen on occasion (pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight sea) by stargirltv is a solangelo fame au!! and i know that i already rec'd it. but like. you have to know how much i LOVE this fic and though, once again, the plots are pretty different - but also similar in the sense of the character dynamics! so yeah tbh i'd say i probably did, unintentionally, take a lot of inspo from this, just because i do love it so much, and it was one of the only fame au's for solangelo that i had read (i've read much more now, ofc, seeing as i stalk the fame and social media tags like a hawk)

and then the last thing i feel like i have to mention when talking about the inspiration for this fic is the book, red white and royal blue. i think i mentioned in the first chapter of talk your talk's end note that this entire au?? started off as a rwrb crossover in my head. nico's age was calculated with alex's in mind. will going to college at nyu was because i originally planned for alex and him to idk meet at a class or smth. cecil was originally a law student (another ironic thing for a child of hermes, and yet i ended up making him work towards cyber security lmfao) just so he could somehow become friends with alex. i was fully emerged in this universe where somehow these friend groups collided, and i fully orchestrated nico as a popstar just so that they'd have double the fandoms to go crazy about it. so does it really have to do anything with rwrb in terms of plot?? no, but alex and henry are entirely to thank for this!!!😭

i know that i kind of took a bit of a strange route for a popstar au in talk your talk so it doesn't really match the usual trope? like person is already famous -> meets someone, either famous or not -> fight to get together bc of the press -> some sort of leaked photo of them -> they choose each other in the end. and dont get me wrong, i will eat up that trope any day, but i do really like what i did with talk your talk! i love any form of fame au, and so it's always just fun to see different spins on the common tropes :)

thank you for the ask!!

[crossedwithblue]

You're a Mansfield Park fan?

Yes!

IDK if you intended it as such but I am going to take this as a license to ramble about MP on main.

I think the thing about MP is that people (especially people who aren't as quite intense about JA than I am lmao, or who have only read P&P before) often come to it expecting a light-bright-and-sparkling romance like P&P, and are surprised when that isn't the case. Hell, I felt like that too on the first read, because the pop-culture perception of JA is that she was a romance writer first and foremost - but the romantic happy-ever-after is shoehorned into a few paragraphs on the last page or two, and not even shown on the page. MP isn't a romance novel at all - I have minimal English lit knowledge outside of JA, but I'd class it as more of a bildungsroman, maybe? Or a predecessor to those modern Literary Novels all about objectively nasty people being nasty to each other? (More on this in a min) I would very much welcome corrections from people who do know what they're talking about, though!

To me, JA isn't actually a romance writer most of the time. She wrote really good romances because she was really good at characterisation and at understanding and describing how personalities interact to form relationships, and romance is just one type of relationship. It's just the one that pop culture tends to focus on when it comes to JA (I mostly blame Georgette Heyer but of course there's an essay to be written on that too). The only JA novels I'd describe as true romances are P&P, of course, and Persuasion - the rest have romance as just one among many other dynamics as a supporting or side plot, or a tool to reveal characterisation, rather than being the main focus.

Fanny is also a very passive narrator who tends to be acted upon rather than acting herself, which tends to irritate people, but MUCH more on that in a minute.

I think MP is in some ways sort of... cruel. It's certainly the most openly incisive and potentially upsetting, with depictions of complex abusive/toxic family dynamics that could probably come straight out of a domestic/familial abuse/neglect resource. The point where I started to enjoy MP was when someone told me to embrace the schadenfreude - everyone besides Fanny and Edmund (possibly - both points very much up for debate, but they are at least trying their best in the middle of a family that doesn't give a fuck, really) is either an actively terrible person or at least a pretty bad enabler. That did help me find the humour in it, but personally I certainly find it a bit hard to read at times, especially the Mrs Norris scenes. It's not usually my first choice when I want to be cheered up.

This also tends to surprise people, I think, because the pop-culture image of JA, (probably in large part due to her Victorian relatives wanting to protect her posthumous image) is of a twinkly, proper, sweet-natured spinster lady.

Which she was not. Anyone who's seen extracts of her surviving letters knows that she had a biting, frequently uncharitable sense of humour (miscarriage jokes aren't a great look, Jane!) - and we know Cassandra destroyed the really juicy stuff, so that's got to be the tip of the iceberg. This is certainly apparent in all of her books, but can be ignored much of the time - but not in MP, where uncharitable descriptions of awful people are pretty much the core of the book.

Finally, we come to Fanny, the extremely divisive heroine (not least because of that name lol). Personally I tend to imprint on pathetic small girls who need looking after, but Fanny is a massive turnoff (lolol) for many people. I think that's just a personal thing but I enjoy the effect of her frequently becoming another layer through which the narrative filters - JA was a master of free indirect speech, of course, often with deliberate ambiguity about whose POV is being reported - omniscient narrator or character or both in agreement - and if it's a character, then which one? Fanny usually says and does little, but observes very keenly and astutely, which interacts in a really interesting way with the narration.

Also, I'd just like to point out that Fanny is Like That because she is an abuse victim. She may not be the most compelling heroine for everyone, but she isn't going to "just stand up for herself". The one time she does, the Bertrams punish her for it pretty harshly by sending her back to an environment that they know will be bad for her physical health (!)

Bit of a tangent but I am also a huge fan of Jane Eyre and I think there are interesting parallels to be drawn between Fanny and Jane. Jane Eyre is a fiery, independent character who manages to get out of bad situations one way or another, mostly through sheer dumb luck (don't get me wrong I love my girl Jane but How did she leave that parcel on the coach...). If she'd stayed at Gateshead, I could see her gradually getting beaten down until she became a lot more like Fanny - because other than Jane's innate temper, they have quite a bit in common - they both do, when it comes down it, have a very strong sense of self (yes, even Fanny) and the ability to reject things that they know are morally wrong, no matter the potential cost.

That turned into a bit of a defense of MP because I usually hear people dissing it and so that's what I end up thinking about. Lots more to be said on the Crawfords and the Bertrams, of course.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i finished sputnik sweetheart!! :3

okay so . well. i don’t know where to begin with this one 😭😭 it was a really lovely read!!!!!

before i say anything else:

murakami is a freak . we know this. i feel like it’s always obvious when you’re reading a murakami book because not only will you recognize the prose, you’ll recognize the Freak beneath it all . people often talk about how murakami can’t write women and i don’t think that’s true, i just think it’s very obvious that a Man wrote them …. i really loved sumire’s character and her relationship with miu, but i still felt that way. i think the narrator’s attraction towards sumire actually adds a lot to the book since it explores sexual desire, love, friendship and the lines between them, but in the beginning it really did feel like some weird … heterosexual fantasy. by the end of the book i had grown really fond of their dynamic but it started out very ’why is this guy even here’……

and in line with that!!! the theme of the book being desire sort of excuses most of the eroticism (/ gives it a purpose) but as i was reading there were still so many times where i was like pleaaaase murakami can you go two seconds without getting horny…….. please……….. like it makes sense but also . i don’t need to know about his boner . i didn’t need to know. in general i think murakami’s freakism shows a lot in how he just can’t stop thinking about sex . or conflating romance and sex. there’s a lot more to this book than just that and i actually really loved the exploration of unorthodox loves / relationships but it does have to be said . murakami is very freudian!!!!

all in all though this book really wasn’t that weird or explicit….. but maybe that’s because my standard of his freakism is kafka on the shore . anyway. those are just some disclaimers for anyone who might read this — murakami is a freak !!! a weirdo!!!!!!! i think his writing is more progressive here since at the very least the center of the narrative is two women, one of which is a lesbian (and her identity is handled with relative grace), but you can definitely sense the heterosexualism beneath it all lmao

anyway anyway ONTO THE POSITIVES because i really did love this book …… murakami’s writing is really lovely!!!!!! as always. there were a lot of lines i really adored and his prose is just very pretty……. also very gritty. it has a lot of bite to it. and his books always have a specific vibe to them... i love it a lot. ALSO SUMIRE AND MIU….. i already mentioned them but their dynamic was such a highlight for me !!!!!! sumire is so charming and miu is too ……. in really different ways. anyway i too am a lover of older women so miu just swooping in and giving sumire a job ……. all mysterious and successful……. i was foaming at the mouth . me next please . their relationship was handled well in general, and it was definitely the most interesting part of the book aside from the usual magic realism….. miu wanting to love sumire back but not being able to after losing the other half of her self…… the scene with them in bed together…… it felt very tender somehow .

i really loved these lines:

miu reached around sumire’s shoulders and pulled her closer. she’s still a child, miu thought. lonely and frightened, she wants someone’s warmth. like that kitten clinging to a pine branch.

like . the mother issues are mothering when it comes to these two (miu being almost maternal in the scene above, sumire falling for an older woman because she (presumably) longs for her dead mother?) and i guess that’s just murakami being murakami but i am sadly . into it . their dynamic feels so multifaceted. one thing murakami does a lot that i will always love is that he blurs the line between different loves …… what the characters in sputnik sweetheart feel for each other can’t be summed up in just a couple words . i said the theme was desire but Really the theme is love — the narrator’s love for sumire, her love for him, her love for miu, miu’s love for her … i really enjoyed that web between them all.

another central theme is loneliness and that appealed a lot to me too . how all the characters are isolated and alienated and feel different from others…………. and of course the way that connects to the gap between reality and dreams that murakami (and i) love so much . i just adore it !!!!!!! miu’s backstory, sumire’s disappearance, the narrator almost falling into the same dream world as sumire when he walks up that hill ….. the idea that we flee into the world of dreams to escape our loneliness. on the other side sumire can see her mother, she can find the other half of miu, she doesn’t have to face reality. i think the only reason she makes it out at all is because she can’t see the narrator there. i just love that aspect of it … magic realism my most beloved . murakami always does it very well which is why i can’t stay away from his books . i fear ……

anyway i can’t really wrap up all my thoughts in a satisfying way ….. there’s a lot i could talk about!!!!! this book has parts here and there that are very murakami in a bad way, but overall i thought it was such a lovely work :’) the writing, the concept, sumire and miu …………… yeah . kafka on the shore is still my favorite of murakami’s works, but sputnik sweetheart was very up my alley too <3 i had a lot of fun with it!!!!

some of my favorite quotes:

this beach was a little too quiet for a person to visit alone, a little too beautiful. it made me imagine a certain way of dying.

the answer is dreams. dreaming on and on. entering the world of dreams, and never coming out. living in dreams for the rest of time.

blood must be shed. i’ll sharpen my knife, ready to slit a dog’s throat somewhere.

face turned down, without a word, that something makes its exit. the door opens; the door shuts. the light goes out. this is the last day for the person i am right now. the very last twilight.

why do people have to be this lonely? what’s the point of it all? millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. why? was the earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?

”you’re a part of me; i’m a part of you. you know, somewhere — i’m not at all sure where — i think i cut something’s throat.”