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rockinlibrarian · 2 years ago

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ao3 wrapped [writers edition]

This was an Ask Game Thingie from a couple weeks ago, but it's a yearly round-up thing, and Back In My Day on LiveJournal we used to pass around surveys like this and answer EVERY QUESTION, whether or not anybody Asked you any, and Year-End ones were great for, you know, wrapping up the year, and ultimately led me to writing full Year-End Wrap-up Posts that span a ton of different categories-- this year's coming later this week! So I've gone and filled out this whole thing because it's MY year-end wrap up and I can do it my way and have it on my blog like so!

How many words have you written this year? The word count on AO3 for 2022 says 51,282, but I assume this includes ALL the words of “Exploration of the Astral Plane” still even though only 3 of the seven chapters were actually published this year, and most of those were also WRITTEN last year. Likewise, I’ve WRITTEN a whole lot of words this year that have not been published yet (and will they ever be, one wonders?) So, grain of salt it.

2. How many works did you publish this year? Seven total listed works. That includes three new chapters of one work I originally published last year (see previous question) and three chapters of a work I haven’t completed yet (see next question). Five self-contained works (a couple of which have two chapters, but at least I published both this year. Wait, that’s a lie: “Chapter 2” of “Everything I Know About Writing the Loudermilk Twins” is actually the essay I put in the “Memory Work” Zine a few years back). Anyway, there are seven individual titles listed under 2022 on AO3.

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? “A Captain With Seven Children”— because first off the concept is brilliant and kept getting more brilliant as I wrote, but can one really take credit for concepts, specifically considering I just happened to dream this one? But I took this seemingly-crack concept seriously, and that’s what led to bringing the inherent brilliance of it out. Secondly, it’s both so much fun and a nifty challenge to take the script of one of my favorite movies and see how it can be adapted to fit characters of a completely different time and culture and— only slightly different situation? One would think it’s a REALLY completely different situation, but the fact that it’s not SO far off after all is part of what makes it so much fun.

4. What work of yours has the most hits? “Not Just Stupid Kids,” which is ironic because I originally posted it anonymously. It would also have the most kudos if you discount what I believe is a weird glitch on somebody’s bookmark of “Chapter 19.5: Hidden. Safe. Somewhere,” which, don’t get me wrong, is a perfectly nice little fic, but it’s a throwaway interstitial thing for Legion which has a teeny fandom anyway, and there’s NO WAY it could get that many kudos naturally when there are so many better Legion fics to choose from. Apparently if you’re not signed in, you can kudo as a guest as many times as you want? And there’s one guest I believe has been through all my Legion fics multiple times this year, and kudoed them every time. But perhaps every time they open the link to “Chapter 19.5” it automatically kudos it again. This is the only sensible explanation.

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected? CLEARLY “Not Just Stupid Kids,” considering, like I said, I first posted it ANONYMOUSLY. Normally I post a ton of links on social media when I post something on AO3, “Hey everybody, come READ WHAT I WROTE!” but since I was embarrassed by that one (it’s a non-canon ship! I don’t DO those!) I didn’t. And somehow THAT one took off completely. I pondered, is it because it’s a ship? People follow specific ships? But the non-anonymous sequel has gotten a fraction of the reaction. Which can only lead me to conclude one thing: MAYBE IT’S ME PEOPLE DON’T LIKE.

6. Favorite title you used: Hmmm. I’m kind of torn: I liked coming up with a Community-formatted title, but I couldn’t decide between “Introduction to Eternal Crossover” and “Introduction to Infernal Crossover” so I combined the two, but I actually like either of the two separately better than the combination I went with in the end. So it’s more like my favorite potential title. I’m also strangely fond of “High on a Roof Stood a Lonely Seven,” which is the next chapter of “A Captain With Seven Children,” but is, barring miracles, not going to be actually posted until 2023.

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? Speaking of which, that would be Rodgers and Hammerstein. And that only because I’m specifically parodying “Sound of Music” lyrics. I hadn’t noticed that so many people name their stories and chapters after song lyrics until after I made this decision, and now I’m like, Come ON, at least MINE is a DIRECT reference to the story I’m writing.

8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year? Fiktor, ie Five and Viktor Hargreeves, ie the ONLY pairing I wrote this year, with a grand total of TWO. Non-canonical and should be completely ridiculous, so basically both fics are me trying to work out WHY the heck I love the concept of them together so much.

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? Well that goes without saying, then, doesn’t it?

10. What work was the quickest to write? If Scrivener history is to believed, I created the file for “Not Just Stupid Kids” —called “Unrelated Fiktor”— on July 31, and according to AO3, I published the first part (which I thought would be the whole thing) on August 1, so apparently I really WAS just trying to get it out of my system. I ended up adding “chapter” 2 on August 8, which ties it at 8 days with “Intro to Eternal/Infernal Crossover.”

11. What work took you the longest to write? “Exploration of the Astral Plane,” which according to my Scrivener history I started writing on 3/29/2020, and finally finished in September this year. Granted, it’s also seven chapters long, but I also apparently started writing the last chapter on 3/15/2021. That last chapter was close to finished for a very long time. It was just the penultimate chapter that was taking so long.

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? Well, I count six unfinished stand-alones in Scrivener, and a couple more in Word (those are the OLD ones), and two multi-chapters that have already started being posted but just need to be finished. But whether they’ll specifically happen NEXT YEAR? We’ll see.

13. What’s your longest work of the year? Technically “Exploration of the Astral Plane” at 13,008 words, but not all those words were published this year. Only 5,417 words were, and about a third of those were written last year. So “A Captain With Seven Children” steals with 11,371 words published so far, and that’s only halfway done.

14. What’s your shortest work of the year? “Introduction to Infernal and Eternal Crossover” at 1,263, which edges out “Chapter 19.5” by 7 words.

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you? Is this a different question from #12?

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? “Backstory”— this is true both for this year and total. Some people write fanfiction to imagine characters’ futures�� I tend to write it to figure out their pasts. Go figure.

17. Your favorite character to write this year? I was going to say Oliver Bird out of force of habit and then I realized I haven’t actually written much for Oliver this year, considering he was unconscious for most of it.* My real answer when I think of it is probably Hypnos God of Sleep, but I haven’t actually finished that fic yet, even though it was supposed to be a quickie (it’s almost done! But LIFE happened). As for characters that aren’t basically OCs (yes I didn’t invent Hypnos, but I did invent his personality for my story), writing the Hargreeveses as children is always fun. Peeling back the later influences on their personalities to the roots of who they are, including things that hint at future developments— and also they’re funny. *I just re-read Chapter 6 of “Exploration,” which is the one chapter I wrote ENTIRELY this year, and Oliver actually spends a good portion of that awake and active and delightful, for probably about as many lines as Hypnos, so maybe he counts after all.

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year? Huh. I guess I avoid writing characters that I can’t hear clearly in the first place. I can’t think of anyone whose voice I couldn’t get right or anything, if I can be as bold to claim that. Approaching the question from a different angle, Viktor Hargreeves. Dang his self-esteem issues. They were simultaneously “yes I relate very much to this feeling of Complete Nobody-ness, therefore it’s all too easy to write” and “UGH would you STOP already and just believe what Five and/or Maria depending on the fic is trying to TELL you?!” And as it turned out, the moment of this that bothered me the most was the same moment my beta reader Frimfram* called out, too, which just goes to show, if your characters are annoying you, they’re probably also annoying the reader. Oh, and he also has the added challenge of not realizing he was trans until he was 29 and a half, which makes the fact that I write a lot of childhood stuff an odd balancing act of pronouns. *(OH WAIT, she's on Tumblr, as @amperdash! Hi, @amperdash!)

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year? Look. I didn’t INTEND to explore any pairings THIS year. I’m not a shipper! And yet, hopefully I DO finally post more of or even finish “Tesseract,” which has a lot of lovely deep married-folk discussions happening between Alex and Kate, if not overtly romantic— no, some of it IS pretty romantic, especially for Demis like me who are all about deep partnership being romantic. Hey, maybe I’ll even finish the Wash/Zoe fic I started ten years ago or something. Who knows. Oh, it’s also possible for these “pairing” questions to refer to non-ship relationships, or “&”s on AO3, but I always forget to note those, anyway. Ironic, isn’t it? I’d probably have better answers if I looked at it that way. Relatedly, do you think I should go back through my fics and add the “&” tags that apply to each? They might get more attention that way.

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most? That’s a good question, and I think it’s more confusing because I reread so much WHILE I’m writing, so I’m not sure how much I reread snippets of in process and how much I read as a completed whole. Maybe “A Captain with Seven Children,” because it is fun and also I'm still writing it, too.

21. How many kudos in total did you get this year? Now, if you click 2022 on the Stats page it says 303, but I was curious, so I added up all the kudos on the seven fics I supposedly published this year, and whaddya know, 303. But the majority of the 30 kudos on “Exploration of the Astral Plane” were actually received LAST year, when the fic was first posted; and it also isn’t counting the many kudos I keep getting on “The Invitation: an Epilogue” (still holding out as my most popular fic ever) and the less-often but still coming steady “The Puppy-fly Effect” and a few other random ones on other older fics, like the guest who frequently binges the complete Loudermilk Chronicles and rekudos every one (the “Placeholder” has even gotten two kudos!); and for that matter, how can you really count the absurd extra kudos on “Chapter 19.5,” anyway? There are 80 guest kudos there and I’m certain that’s only about 5 actual individual guests. I could go back through my email notifications and add up the kudos I ACTUALLY got this year (including the random 80 guest kudos on Chapter 19.5) but that’s a bit excessive.

22. Which work has the most comments? “Not Just Stupid Kids,” clearly the most popular work published this year. Most of the comments are like “Aw, don’t let the haters who say you shouldn’t ship adoptive brothers with complicated age-issues and much mental illness force you into anonymity and shame!” and I’m like, “No, seriously, it’s not THAT part that embarrasses me, it’s the fact that they’re NON-CANONICAL and exactly the sort of pairing I would be all ‘WHY CAN’T THEY JUST BE GOOD FRIENDS?!’ about any other time! Because I am freakish this way!”

23. Did you do any collaborative works this year? No, though it was lovely beta-exchanging with @amperdash. We’d get to cheer for each other! (You can read hers here: "Seong-min Ha has Superpowers"!)

24. Did you write any gifts this year? Not unless you count our Christmas card letter.

25. Did you receive any gifts this year? Not unless you count other people’s Christmas card letters.

26. What’s your most common category? Um, Gen? Like you had to ask?

27. What do you listen to while writing? I have an “Instrumental” playlist. I posted about that before.

28. Favorite work you wrote this year? I guess “A Captain with Seven Children,” but there’s a special place in my heart for “Everything I Know About Writing the Loudermilk Twins,” because they’re forever my babies.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? I think I keep coming back to this one the most, and it’s a perfect example of why writing “A Captain with Seven Children” delights me so much. To set the mood, here is the exchange as it appears in “The Sound of Music”: Maria has just arrived at the Von Trapps’ and is pretending to dance in the ballroom when Captain Von Trapp takes her by surprise saying, “In the future, you’ll kindly remember there are certain rooms in this house which are not to be disturbed.” She nervously stutters out, “Yes, captain, sir.” Then he says, “Why do you stare at me that way?” “You don't look at all like a sea captain, sir,” she says. He bites back, “I'm afraid you don't look very much like a governess.”

Now, this functions as a meet-cute— they’re taken aback by each other, she was being whimsical (which he surely needs in his life), and she’s embarrassed, and she’s staring at him because my gosh is he handsome and she was not prepared for that. But in my story this moment is absolutely not a meet-cute, but it is a first meeting that proceeds in almost the same way. Maria, being Maria, is still going to get impatient waiting and go poking around in the house; and Reggie is very much against his office being disturbed. But she’s not going to be struck dumb by how handsome he is— she’s going to be really distracted by how anachronistic he looks— old-fashioned even for her original timeline, and that was already 60 years earlier! So anyway here’s the scene:

“In the future, you’ll kindly remember there are certain rooms in this Academy which are not to be disturbed.” Maria jumped and succeeded in just barely not knocking the contraption over. “Yes, sir, Mr. Hargreeves, sir.” She gaped at the tall, thin man in the doorway. He looked like a Victorian shipping baron, with a monocle in one eye and a graying auburn goatee, a natty three-piece suit and cane. He squinted back at her. “Sir Reginald, if you please. Why do you stare at me that way?” “Well, you don’t look at all like I imagined the adoptive father of seven children, er, in the late 1990s, would look, sir.” “And how many of us have you been previously acquainted with?” “Well…none, actually.” “So I trust you will refrain from making further assumptions.” So the scene starts out almost exactly the same, in the office instead of a ballroom, but when Maria explains why she’s staring, Reggie is just GOING to react with a bit of snooty logic. And the weird thing is, I can totally hear Christopher Plummer saying it, too. I actually had to look BACK at the Sound of Music script because I wasn’t sure, anymore, which parts I wrote and which parts were from the movie. It just FITS so freaking well.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year? BESIDES the popularity of “Not Just Stupid Kids”? WHILE writing, hmm. How many lines you can swap between Sir Reginald Hargreeves and Captain Von Trapp without being able to tell the difference!

#year-end roundup #ask game #fanfic

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princepestilence · 1 year ago

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NYR: June in review

Post-June horoscope: I didn’t come this far to only come this far.

A month ago I predicted that the difficulties of work would be “getting easier soon” and while that has technically happened by this point, it was an incredibly long and arduous three weeks. I did also predict that I would be all kinds of grateful to finally reach the end of June, and oh boy am I. The start of June feels like years ago.

In June:

survived work. I do not feel like I was well-prepared for that whole hurricane of circus chaos, but it’s over now and I definitely feel like I’ve levelled up my ability to deal with idiot logistics on the fly, so there is that. I think when I’ve had more time to reset I’ll feel glad to have been involved in this little piece of Australian arts history, but for now, [raspberry noise] [rude gesture]

a year at the “new” job! It’s been a full year since I started here, which is really surreal to think about, because it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I’ve been there for way way longer, and it spins my head a little to think how much has changed in twelve months. And also how much of it is great!

Duolingo every day. Achieved! I’ve been enjoying it. It’s becoming part of my little habits and I’m looking forward to spending more time on Japanese next year once I’m not weighed down by my thesis.

went to a zine fair. It was fun, but a bit intense. Definitely keeping an eye out for other festivals and fairs, though.

went to a writing festival. This one was a surprise! I hadn’t intended to go because we’re trying to be thrifty (see below) but I wound up with a free VIP ticket and wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. I enjoyed it, although one of the panels was a big let-down and I’m still a bit put out about it over a week later.

first major home repairs. Our boiler died (how typical to do that mid-winter) and had to be replaced, which is our first major expense since moving in -- besides, you know, the normal expenses of mortgage and rates and utilities and whatever else. It has made the hot water work much nicer, so at least there’s that.

In July, I will:

do so much for my thesis. I’m off work now for a few weeks to play catch up on my dissertation properly and I am feeling energised about that, and excited to finally be so close to a finished product. This is the big goal for this month.

chair the next committee meeting. We’ve got a lot to work on and I’ve honestly only barely kept on top of emails in this past month, so I’ll scramble to get up-to-date these next couple of weeks as well. It’s crazy how fast other things like this snowball when you’re run off your feet with circus nonsense.

start planning for my birthday. It’ll be in November but I want to lock in the date and venue and get invitations out early so people can plan around that, since quite a few people are travelling and / or living busy lives. Very happy with the theme I’ve finally settled on, I think it’s going to look gorgeous.

If I manage all of this the way I want, I will be absolutely thrilled. Here’s hoping!

#2023 resolutions

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archiveoftheodd · 2 years ago

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Guideline FAQ

Thank you for your interest in the Archives. We know that publishing can be daunting, and it’s easy to overthink guidelines, so we put together a few frequently asked questions for both writers and artists, outside of the main guidelines! If you have any other questions, please don’t hesitate to reach out at [email protected], or send us an ask!

Everyone

Q: What’s with your shifting submission windows?

A: A very fair question. We have multiple editors, all with extremely different schedules. To make sure all work gets our full attention, that means some schedule shenanigans.

We’re currently testing a couple of different windows, and hope to settle into two per year based on what works best. Apologies for the inconvenience in the meantime!

Q: Help! I haven’t received a confirmation email, but I submit two+ days ago. What happened?

A: This happens occasionally! Please email us to confirm. All of the emails are sent by people, not automated systems. Depending on the day, we can get large numbers of submissions in a short period, and might miss replying to one. Not receiving a confirmation doesn’t mean we didn’t see it, or won’t look at it, but it’s better to make sure that we received it (we’ve had a couple of submissions disappear into the void, with creators querying about submissions we couldn’t find record of).

Q: What’s your turnaround time?

A: That really depends. We have long submission windows, but won’t send acceptances until after the window ends, so if you send something in early, it could be months. We try to respond to all writing within a month of the window closing date, and paired artists soon after.

We try to send rejections as we go, but as part of our anonymous process, we read in batches. That means responses sometimes have to do with how many submissions are coming in. We’re working on improving our system, and things should speed up in the future!

Artists

Q: What is is paired art vs. individual art? Do you have a preference?

A: Paired art is how we refer to art commissioned specifically for a piece of fiction that’s already been chosen. If we like your portfolio, we’ll give you a chance to read all the available stories whose authors want illustration, and you can pick your favorite! This is first-come-first-serve, though, so not every story might be available depending on how long it takes to reply. If you’d prefer we pick a story for you, we can do that, too!

Individual art is art that is submitted as a complete piece during a submission window, with no relation to any story. Since we try to maintain a general theme/tone per issue, this can be trickier to place.

Writers

Q: What should go in my cover letter?

Since submissions are anonymous, your cover letter doesn’t matter too much! We do like receiving one, though. We prefer ‘dear editor’ to ‘dear Cormack’ or ‘dear CM Baldwin’, just because Cormack isn’t necessarily the editor replying. A good boilerplate is:

Dear Editor,

My name is [name]. I would like to submit my short story [title], which is [word count] words, for your consideration for Archive of the Odd.

Cheers,

[Name]

IMPORTANT NOTE: If there is crucial information you want editors to know, please put it at the top of your submission document, under the title. One good example would be if characters use slurs. Sometimes, we can’t tell by text alone whether you a marginalized author reclaiming them or someone being a jerk. Likewise, we might not know if you are writing about a fictional event or a historical event we just don’t know about. If the information is in a cover letter, it is lost to us until we’re already responding.

Q: I read the zine. Does my submission have to be formatted like that?

A: First off, thank you! Second, no, it’s not required! Visual elements are generally from the editorial side. As long as we can follow what’s going on, plain text is fine. By all means, though, if you want to, you can set up your story however you want.

We do not consciously give pre-formatted pieces an edge, but if you have what it takes to design your own forum, mimic online article formats, or provide the world’s most disconcerting children’s product design, we do delight in seeing them.

Q: How does the blind submission process work?

A: In the most convoluted way possible. You send in your submission. If you’ve removed author information, great! We download it*, and it goes into a folder. If you didn’t, that’s okay, there’s no penalty. We’ll remove the information (if .doc/.docx/.rtf), or black it out (if .pdf), and it goes into the same folder. After we reach a threshold (usually 10 submissions), those submissions are shared with all editors and read in a batch. This reduces some of the subjectivity of judging, as well as making it harder for the person who downloaded the submission to connect it to its author.

We read every submission all the way through. If it doesn’t meet our guidelines, we’ll reject with an explanation of what guideline it didn’t meet. After that, pieces are ranked within the pool. If we like a piece, it remains in the pool, and will be addressed again when we have more pieces to compare it against. Usually, in a pool of ten, the bottom five will be rejected.

This process of adding, rereading, and rejecting the bottom half continues until we have our final lineup. We often reread pieces three to five times when making final decisions, comparing themes, pacing, and how different groups of stories would read together.

*All rejected submissions are deleted immediately afterwards.

#archive of the odd #found fiction #indie horror #indie horror zine #about aoto #submissions #FAQ

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cuntess-carmilla · 4 years ago

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LGBT youth is desperately in need of useful and inclusive sex education. I get it's delicate for us because LGBT adults (and tbh even LGBT kids) are accused of being sex-addicted pedophilic freaks by virtue of breathing, so out of internalized shame and just the need to keep ourselves safe we tend to avoid doing anything that could be perceived as even remotely predatory, but I think it's about time we start trying to find safe and appropriate ways to educate LGBT youth on sex. Cishets clearly aren't going to do it for us.

As absolutely vital as education on how to have safe sex is, especially with the impact that the AIDS epidemic had (and continues to have) in our community, I don't mean JUST educating LGBT youth on how to have safe sex.

Our communities are in desperate need of education on how to have happy, fun sex (which of course includes teaching about consent in LGBT contexts). How to have sex that isn't missionary penetrative sex, or other forms of sex that cishet couples replicate regularly. I do mean the "het" in there because m/w partners in which one or more of them are bi, including the cis ones, can and do have sex differently from their heterosexual counterparts and they matter just as much as everyone else in the community.

Speaking specifically regarding wlw and sex, we're so easily plagued by conceptions of cishet sex, which is very detrimental to us considering a majority of us don't have the ability to penetrate our partners without a toy (be it due to not having a penis or to HRT making erections like that not always possible) and even our use of toys is mocked or stigmatized ("Haha, you guys can't have sex without toys, your sex is silly and fake"), so we're stuck dealing without any support with redefining what "real sex" means to us, having the sexual acts most of us can or want to perform be deemed as Actually Just Foreplay and thus our sex is incomplete, a bad rip off of the "real sex" everyone else can have. That's not even going into how often our only sources of what w/w sex looks like is porn created by and for men so we end up not knowing how to fuck without trying to appeal to an omnipresent invisible male audience.

When it comes to my use of "inclusive" above I mean, of course, inclusive of trans people of all sexualities.

I'm in a long term relationship with another lesbian who happens to be trans. It took us so long to figure out how to have fun happy sex that didn't trigger her dysphoria and that didn't trigger me in relation to how the very idea of replicating cishet sex (which can happen to me with a woman with any type of body, so please don't read my words in bad faith) makes me feel genuinely suicidal. Just because of the bodies we each have by nature, we felt for so long that there were only a few restrictive ways in which we were supposed to or even could have sex. It took us literal years to start overcoming that and now that we've made so much progress in that aspect our relationship as a couple and our relationships to ourselves and our own bodies are so much healthier.

Wouldn't you know, part of what helped us was remembering an online zine we saw years ago on how to have sapphic sex with a trans woman beyond penetration (either her penetrating or her being penetrated). It was so hard for us to process in the past that sex doesn't have to include penetration as soon as one of the people involved has a penis. Mind you, we do like that too and there's nothing wrong with any sort of wlw couple having penetrative sex. That's still sapphic because it's two women doing it, but it's not the only way, and we might have never learned that hadn't other LGBT people told us about it.

I don't feel educated enough to speak on sexual inclusivity regarding intersex LGBT people, but I do know that this is a very sensitive issue as well for them and we really do need to tackle the subject, with intersex voices at the forefront.

We need to teach each other, but especially younger LGBT people, how to redefine sex for ourselves, how sex can look outside of the dyadic cishet norm, that we don't need to appeal to dyadic cishet notions of what sex is supposed to look like. We need too to help each other break away from the shame we're taught around gay, bi and trans lust, especially when it comes to LGBT women, with how taboo female lust is in general. Before we became more "mainstream", LGBT communities were much bigger on going against that than we seem to be now and it's a problem that in many spaces we've pulled a complete 180 on it. It's harming us tremendously as a community and as individuals.

We can't keep waiting for schools and other establishments dominated by dyadic cishets to do the work for us. If they were to bother mentioning us at all, they'll often do it in incomplete or harmful ways. We need LGBT sex education now and we need to do it ourselves, as scary and difficult as it may be.

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superhero--imagines · 4 years ago

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Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info I Instagram I Zine

A/N: I just felt like it, this is pretty self-indulgent tbh. also please buy my stickers on etsy. Please. I worked so hard and I'm so scared they're going to flop.

* Yo babe, this guy is like your #1 supporter

* Like there’s two ways he meets you. The first is probably like that romantic “it’s fate” type of way, and the second is one of his brothers sets him up with you

* The first one is sort of romantic- you meet him when you’re still young at some book signing or a poetry reading or something

* And he sits next to you, and you start chatting a little about the author and their work

* “You sound like a writer” Jason says, and you blush a little

* “I guess I am” you’re just starting out though

* “What kinda stuff do you write?” He asks

* “The bad kind”

* He laughs at that

* And there’s this sort of romantic mood over the scene, like he just knows you’re going to be special to him

* But then the reading ends, and he’s waiting for it- to give you his number or to you see again but he never does

* You just get up and leave

* He see’s you again years later, at a charity ball Bruce is forcing him to go to “public appearance is important” and “optics need to be good” or something

* And you’re there, one hand on Dick’s arm, and the other around a flute of champagne

* “Oh, (Y/N)- this is my little brother Jason, Jason this is (Y/N)”

* The hand wrapped around Dick’s arm unfurls to hold his own, Jason can’t take his eyes off of yours

* “Nice to meet you”

* And there’s no familiar glint in your eyes, this isn’t some inside joke-

* You really don’t remember him

* “Nice to meet you too,” Jason says giving you a firm squeeze back

* Your hand is soft

* He can picture it, desperately clutching a pen, flying across a page, and scribbling all the ideas in your mind-

* It feels like a writers hand

* “(Y/N)’s an aspiring writer,” Dick says, and Jason flinches.

* So you are still writing

* “I’m not an aspiring writer, I am a writer”

* Jason doesn’t miss the slight bite in your words, despite your expressionless exterior

* “No I mean like a real writer- a published writer”

* “I am a published writer” you sigh, and Jason guesses you’re exasperated

* “Oh really where at?” Dick asks, and Jason almost wants to strangle his brother. Here’s the person of his dreams, and Dick had the stupid dumb luck to date them first- only to say all the wrong things.

* But before you can answer Dick’s eyes light up as they hover over the bar-

* Then out of nowhere, he grabs your champagne flute away from you

* “You’re running low huh?” The flute is mostly full, Jason notices. “I’ll get you another”

* And then he’s gone, leaving just you and Jason

* “I’m going to take a wild stab here, and say you’re not dating my brother”

* You shake your head with a small smile

* “This would be pretty sad if we were,” you say, picking up a champagne flute from a nearby server

* Jason mirrors the motion

* “Dick said he wanted to make an ex jealous, it’s a mutually beneficial situation”

* You motion to the bar, and sure enough Dick’s chatting up a familiar redhead Jason knows all too well

* “What do you get out of this?” The question is punctuated with a sip of champagne and your lips quirk into a small smile

* “I’ve never been to an event like this,” your eyes sweep the room- marble columns and men with shiny cuff links and tuxedos and women in polished gowns

* It’s like something out of a tv show

* “I thought it might be good for my writing” you shrug, your editor is always saying that you need more romantic elements in your work

* “Well you don’t need Dick for that,” Jason takes a sip of his champagne “I’m right here”

* You grin, and Jason has to pinch himself to snap out of the way you dazzle him

* “What a gentleman,” you say, still smiling, though it’s dimmed

* “Anything to support the arts”

* Elsewhere at the bar-

* “Do you think they’re hitting it off?” Barbara asks, and Dick grins

* “Of course they are, they’re a writer- Jason loves to read, it’s a match made in heaven”

* Barbara rolls her eyes, but she’ll admit, you guys look good together

* Things move fast after that, the way they always seem to when people are happy

* First dates at the pier

* Second dates watching bad movies and smuggling wine into a movie theatre

* Third dates where you do nothing but kiss

* Bookstore trips, late nights where you do nothing but dream

* Jason knows you’re getting close when you open up to him about your art

* “I’ve had this idea in my head for months now but it just won’t come out”

* And you’re taking such a huge chance talking about this- how many times have you been told to quit while you’re ahead, or ridiculed, treated as an annoyance, or even laughed at for opening up about your work.

* So the pure joy Jason shows when you speak to him about it makes your heart skip

* “Tell me about it, what kind of a story is it?”

* And this is such a vulnerable moment for both of you- but Jason makes it seem like it’s the most normal thing in the world, like this is how it should have been with everyone before

* And honestly it’s healing

* This dork will buy any magazine or journal you’re printed in and ask you to sign it

* If it’s web-only, he’ll print out your story on high-quality paper and ask you to sign that

* “You know you didn’t have to buy one, I have like 12 contributor copies,” you say hiding your smile as you indulge him by signing the cover

* “I just happened to see it-”

* He didn’t just ‘happen to see it’ he preordered this copy a month ago

* “Besides I like supporting your work”

* And no ones ever loved you like this, so you hide your smile behind your hand

* “Anything to support the art right?”

* “Exactly,” he says with a grin

* If you write a book and add his name to the dedications/acknowledgments he’ll straight-up start crying

* “Jason-“

* You’re a little concerned, you didn’t even write anything mushy just ‘For Jason, my number one supporter’

* When he finally shows his face from behind his hand he’s smiling so wide with the brightest blush on his face

* “This is my favorite book,” he says hugging the copy to his chest

* And you just smile

* He buys two books, one to make notes in and the other to keep in a shadow box

* Speaking of books-

* If you guys live together you have a lot

* Like seriously almost TOO many

* Have you guys seen that tik tok of the girl whose parents are professors and they have a whole house just COVERED in books- like even the bathroom

* Yeah

* That’s your house!!

* Well, probably apartment, but yeah

* You have a “guest bedroom”

* But really it’s a library with a bed in the middle

* Your living room has every wall covered in bookshelves and one small empty spot so he could mount the television

* It makes perfect sense- one bookshelf Is yours, one is for reference material, one is to keep all the stuff you get published, one bookshelf is for Jason, another is for shared classics, another is books you guys share with signed books in it, another is just a display case really

* And so on

* “Do you ever think we have too many books?” You ask Jason one night over cups of chamomile tea

* He looks up from the book in his lap, reading glasses slipping down

* “I think we’re the only people who have the correct amount of books”

* You grin

* “Yeah I think so too”

* He would totally show up to all your readings and book signings

* Your manager/agent might start to get worried

* “You don’t think he’s a stalker do you?”

* “Nah that’s just my boyfriend” you say with a smile, blowing a kiss in his direction

* Just- supportive Jason who loves that you were born to tell stories

#batman imagine #jason todd zine #Jason Todd imagine #jason todd heacanon #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #Jason Todd #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #dc comics imagine #superhero--imagines #dc comics

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sideblog-666-thousand · 4 years ago

Text

A long bitch of an interview with Euronymous, from Orcustus zine in early ‘92.

What is Orcustus? Orcustus was an early 90’s black metal ‘zine run by none other than Bård “Faust*” Eithun— murderous pretty-boy, and o.g Euronymous simp. I think he might have also played drums in a band called Emperor... but I’m not sure! Its full name is actually “Orcustus— The Shadow of The Golden Fire”, and no, I’m not making this up.

This particular issue here opens up with a quote from a short story called ‘The Doom That Came To Thomas Parkes*’.

Assuming the reader hasn’t read the story, Faust explains that the quote is in reference to what happened to the titular ‘Thomas Parkes’ when he tried to raise spirits. Faust then admits that he’s unsure of his own ability to ‘raise spirits’, but says he hopes that he’ll raise some fists in agreement that there’s something wrong with the underground scene. Ironically (you’ll see why this is ironic very soon), he doesn’t like that certain bands, namely Entombed, are selling so many copies of their LPs.

After a brief diatribe on just that, he goes on to explain that he was in a rush to get this mag out because of problems with the printer. Then, he tells anyone who doesn’t like the fact that this ‘zine only features black metal that they can fuck off, with three exclamation points.

Finally, we get to the end of the opening page, where Faust pulls what can only be called an early form of the Twitter exposed thread. It reads as follows, with absolutely no changes to the text:

“I would suggest you to not do any business with that sucker Evil Ludo from France. He have riped me and several others off, by not return what we ordered. I suppose he’s a medical sensation, as I didn’t know it was physical or psychical possible to live without a brain”

Why am I telling you all of this, when this is only meant to be a transcript of an interview with Euronymous, you may be asking? Because I find it funny, that’s why.

Anyhow, the Euronymous here acts and feels very differently from the Euronymous of the last interview I posted. However, I hope you’ll still enjoy it, and I hope you’re able to appreciate the tiny glimpses of humanity talking to a close friend allowed him, even though they both behave like complete asses. Even though it’s hard to sympathize with him at points.

Like last time, any (sparse) commentary will be between (parenthesis) and in bold. Without further ado, let’s get into it.

F: Well, how in hell shall one be able to come up with an intro worthy enough for this band? The words I wanna describe Mayhem’s music with, is not yet created, and it won’t be created either, because no one has really experienced the real darkness and pure brutality with lays behind Mayhem’s hellish sound, but I suppose you all are familiar with this band anyway. Well, in the first place, I hadn’t really thought to enclose this band in this issue, because if we look away from rereleases of old demos (“Pure Fucking Armageddon”) and live tapes, it’s a pretty long time since their last release (in ‘87 that was). I thought I rather should interview them when they released their forthcoming album “Dee Mysteriis Dom Sathanas”, but due to the circumstances, I realised the time was right for an interview now. I won’t bother you with any history shit, but I could tell a bit about what has happened last year. You all know that their vocalist Dead comited suicude in April ‘91, that was a bigg loss for the underground, and I suppose I don’t need to say that this mag is dedicated to the memory of that infernal man. Anyway, Dead was replaced by Cultòcùlus (back then called Occultus), but due to different problems within the band, he left the band in January ‘92, but let’s not say more about that, as Euronymous didn’t want me to say anything about it at all (but Euronymous, you must admit that it has sounded pretty artificial if I hadn’t mentioned it at all). So now, the band consists of Hellhammer (drums) and Euronymous (guitar (and probably bass too)). I know the singer of Tormentor (rip) from Hungary (Esihar Attila) is interested in singing on the album, and also even moving to Norway, so it seems like Mayhem got some sort of predilection to foreign vocalists, but this Hungarian guy happend to be a good one as well, so never mind that. But I don’t think this is official, so don’t tell anyone you read it here, ok? Well then, it’s an honour for me to dedicate the next following pages to one of today’s most legendary and infamous bands......... THE TRUE MAYHEM!!!!!!!

F: First of all Euronymous, I know you and Dead live/lived totally for the old black metal attitude. Is your hate now total to young and trendy bands after Dead’s suicide?

Euro: YES, we have declared WAR. Dead died because the trend people have destroyed everything from the old black metal/death metal scene, today “death” metal is something normal, accepted and FUNNY (argh) and we HATE it. It used to be spikes, nites, chains, leather and black clothes, and this was the only thing Dead lived for as he hated this world and everything which lives on it. If we had the economic possibility to do it, we should meet up at concerts and beat up ALL trend people ALL the time untill they would be too scared to go to concerts at all, now we need to suck their money instead. It’s impossible to stop the trend no matter how much we want, we have to do the best out of it and sell lots of trend shit to them. (I don’t need to tell you that that’s totally not why Dead killed himself, right?)

F: In the spring of ‘91 you started up a shop in Oslo which sells all sorts of music within metal. Is there anything you can tell us about the shop (ideas? plans?)?

Euro: Well, the original idea was to make a specialist shop for metal in general, but that’s a long time ago. Normal metal isn’t very popular anymore, all the children are listening to “death” metal now, I’d rather be selling Judas Priest than Napalm Death, but at least now we can be specialized within “death” metal and make a shop where all the trend people know that they will find all the trend music, this will help us earning money so that we can order more EVIL records to the evil people. But no matter how shitty music we have to sell, we’ll make a BLACK METAL look on the shop, we’ve had a couple of “actions” in churches lately, and the shop is going to look like a black church in the future. We’ve also thought about having total darkness inside, so that would would have to carry torches to be able to see the records.

F: Well, how is the situation all in all in the Mayhem camp right now?

Euro: Difficult as usual, but we’re closer than ever to record the Mayhem lp. Almost all the material is completed, then I and Hellhammer will record the whole thing with 3 guitars, 2 basses and so on. It will be very massive. Who’s to sing on the lp is not yet decided, we’ll wait and see what happens. We have several people who can do the job very well.

F: As Metalion of Slayer mag* said: “it seems like you at certain times lives on the edge of starvation”. Have you ever been on the thought to just give up the whole band and become a normal 9 to 5 person, or is this a completely stupid question to ask?

Euro: It has been very hard at times, but I am not a normal person anyway so it would just not be possible to do that. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why things are as they are (this answer will be long) (that’s okay for me/Ed). The reason why we don’t have any money, is because of hardcore. We have for too long been following the “underground” rules, which say that you must hate money, you must not think you are anything, you must be open-minded, you might have a lot of attitudes and so on. Extremely stupid. But the situation has been that if you don’t follow these rules which are made by hardcore pigs, you are not accepted as a death metal or black metal band! Then you MUST be signed by some big label to be able to make some money, and we’ve never wanted to do that. Then you would anyway be labelled as “commercial” by the HC pigs. This has caused that after 8 years, we are still as broke as ever, while the HC pigs themselves are controlling all labels, and they sign only the bands which fit into their own idiotic world, that means “death” metal bands with society lyrics and jogging suits, and this is what the people see when they grow up. They don’t see any EVIL bands with spikes, as we did. Well, I’m tired about being broke, just to be “underground”. I’m tired of not having money to eat for just because tons of people will call you a “rip-off” if you don’t write 20 letters each day. It’s time to say fuck off to the whole system, which is built to strangle the evil bands in the birth. We must start taking inspirations from the ancient ones, from Venom and their likes. They did their thing BIG, and they never had to think about any idiotic underground rules. They did it big and so must we, but it must never become a trend, it must become a CULT. This is why we have started on a brand new policy with the band and the record label. It’s about time that someone makes a label for black metal and other grim music, and STRIKE BACK. There is NO reason why DSP shouldn’t be as big as Peaceville or Nuclear Blast, if we can just get the business on its feet again and get good distribution. That’s the only way to compete with the HC labels. It’s about time we start taking control over our own scene. We must spread the EVIL bands and pervert people’s souls.

F: What about the Norwegian scene then? Don’t you think that something is terribly wrong when it have gone so far that we have a christian “death metal” band here (Crush Evil)? Advices on how we should kill them?

Euro: First of all— the Norwegian scene is the BEST. There are a lot of GREAT bands (yet with no album out) and of course some shitty trend bands, but nothing as in Sweden. There you have 2-3 good bands out of 100, while here we have a few shit bands who hardly have made even a demo, while all the great bands will make records in the near future. Such as Darkthrone, Burzum, Immortal, Thorns (I’m flattered/ED*), Arcturus, Enslaved and newer bands like Malfeitor and others which I have not yet heard. BUT— when it comes to bands like Crush Evil, we must take serious action. It’s bad enough to have a couple of society bands, but a CHRISTIAN band is too much. But don’t worry, we have plans. They will not continue for a very long time.

F: And now over to something more humouristic....yes.... snuff movies. Who had been the perfect actor for a snuff movie, and why the hell aren’t they legalized? Don’t you think that every video-store should have its own section with snuff-movies?

Euro: Actually I think it’s great that movies like that are forbidden. If they were legal and easily accessible, all the small trend children would be watching them, and then it would not be something extreme anymore (I’m not sure if I agree with you here Euronymous. Snuff movies are usually too raw and brutal for the people with their “peace and life” infected minds. Remember the HC rules/ED) (shut the fuck up, Faust*) It’s just the same what happened to death metal— it became something everyone could buy in every store, something normal and accessible for everyone. All the mystic and evil atmosphere is GONE. I do not think snuff-movies are funny, I think they are DARK. I’ve seen people laugh at them, but that’s probably because they will not be mentally able to take the PAIN and EVIL on over themselves. That is the best way to watch such a movie, to try to FEEL the actual pain of the victims. It becomes much more gruesome then, and that’s great. One must be alone in the darkness and suffer with the victims, if you watch it with other people, they will often talk, laugh and so on, and then you get more distanced from it, it’s not supposed to be funny (death to fun), it’s much better when it’s depressive.

F: Through the years you have been talking about releasing bands like Samael, Rotting Christ, Master’s Hammer, Tormentor, Matricide, Imperator, Massacre etc. on Deathlike Silence Prod., but now some of these bands have released lp’s on labels which only have money in their eyes and know that black metal sells. Doesn’t that frustrate you, and don’t you feel it like the time is running out for you?

Euro: It’s a bit frustrating, but it is also a result of trying to be “underground” which is a suicide policy. Anyway, the main thing is that these evil records get released at all, and not who’s releasing them. We will probably release a record with Tormentor, they’re split up, but they still want to make their Anno Domini demo on vinyl, and we’ll try to fix it within the summer. The time is not running out, because there are a lot of really evil bands around. — most of the Norwegian bands which other labels haven’t heard about. Burzum is ten times better than all the bands on Earache together, and so are Thorns and Arcturus. So there is no problem, really. As for bands like Rotting Christ and Master’s Hammer, we might do something in the future instead. I’ve never been talking with Samael about any deal, but I wish I had as their album is FUCKING GREAT.

F: Almost all bands in the underground today says that they think they got their own style and originality, but the fact is that 95% of the bands sounds totally the same. What is an original death metal band today?

Euro: There exists no death metal bands today. There are only a handful of (mostly great) bands (in case someone hadn’t got it right— black metal has nothing to do with the music itself, both Blasphemy and Mercyful Fate are black metal. It’s the LYRICS, and they must be SATANIC. If not, it is NOT black metal) and what we choose to call LIFE METAL bands. Take a band like Therion. Their music is quite ok, it’s actually one of the best Swedish bands (even though that doesn’t say much) but their lyrics STINK. They are about society and pollution, what the fuck has that got to do with DEATH? If a band cultivates and worships death, then it’s death metal, no matter what KIND of metal it is. If a band cultivates and worships Satan, it’s black metal. And by saying “cultivates death”, I don’t think about thinking it’s funny, or being into gore, I’m thinking about being able to KILL just because they HATE LIFE. it’s people who enjoy to see wars because a lot of people get killed. How many bands think that way? Not many. I can’t think of one.

F: You’re maybe not the most active band when it comes to gigs, but at least you’ve managed to tour Germany and Turkey. What can you tell us from the tour, and is there any new gigs planed?

Euro: That tour was a big mess, we’ll NEVER take the train again! We lost quite some money, but still it was great to get to East-Germany and Turkey. The memories of the tour consist mostly of the starvation and idiotic custom officers, but still I wouldn’t like to have missed the opportunity. We don’t have any concrete plans, we’ll see happens in the future. We don’t like to play for a lot of trendies in jogging suits, so we prefer to leave it be.

F: What do you think of the fact that death metal has been on MTV?

Euro: It sucks. But it isn’t death metal anyway, so....

F: I know that you will soon release the debut album of Abruptum on DSP, so, what can you tell us about it?

Euro: It’s EVIL. It’s PURE EVIL, they were torturing each other in studio DURING the recording and you can HEAR on the music how they SUFFER. It will be the most demented record EVER, and it’s NOT for normal people. This is music which NEVER can become trendy, because normal people won’t be able to understand it. And that’s great. The price for the album it’ll be the same as for the BURZUM lp, which should be somewhere else in this ‘zine*. It’s called “Obscuriratem Advoco Amplèctere Me”, and stay away from it if you don’t like pure DARKNESS.

F: Don’t you think that people in the underground should respect others ideas and views more? I mean, it’s not accepted to spread unpopular thoughts. It seems like there is some sort of guardians of morality and most people keep in mind not to say or do anything which is not accepted by the public.

Euro: I don’t think people should respect each other. I don’t want to see trend people respecting me, I want them to HATE and FEAR. If people don’t accept our ideas as their own, they can fuck off because then they belong to a musical scene which has NOTHING to do with ours. They could just as well be Madonna fans. There is an ABYSS between us and the rest. Remember— one of the HC rules is that you must be open-minded (except for themselves), so we must be careful and avoid being open-minded ourselves. The HC pigs have correctly made themselves guardians of morality, but we must kick them in the face and become guardians of anti-morality.

F: You say you want your riffs to have a dark mood and really sound evil, but what if you came up with a riff which just sounded good, but not evil. Would you use it then?

Euro: Well, if a riff sounds good to me, it mostly means that it sounds evil too. At least when I make the music myself. Haven’t really thought about this about this before.

F: Do you think you’ve been playing this sort of music today if it weren’t for those old bands like Mercyful Fate, Venom and Hellhammer?

Euro: It’s impossible to say. Venom and the other ancient ones have been fundamental influences on Mayhem, and also the direct reason of the band’s existence. We like to think that if they hadn’t started up this, we would have, but who knows? Doesn’t really matter anyway, we hail ancient Venom as the CREATORS.

F: Ok, no more questions at the moment. End the interview in what way you want......

Euro: Perhaps it should be mentioned that well re-release the MAYHEM mini-lp “Deathcrush” VERY soon. We also have t-shirts available now. People should write for prices on things. Be EVIL, not open-minded.

Ok, I suppose some of you already know that Euronymous started up a shop in Oslo in the spring of ‘91. The shop is called “HELVETE” (which is Norwegian and means “HELL”) and are specialized within underground stuff and death metal in general (though he also have some other styles of music there). As he said in the MAYHEM interview, the shop really have a black metal look, so if you ever visit Oslo, I really recommend you to visit “HELVETE” as well. I think it’s good that people take the initiative to start up with such things, because if everyone were just passive, we would all get ruined by poser-shops like Hot Records where they take 140 NKR for the Earache albums (which you in “HELVETE” can get a CD for the same price). Euronymous also sells though mail, so write and ask for a list or something: HELVETE, Schweigaardsgt. 56, 0656 Oslo. NORWAY.”

That’s all! :)

And now for the things I put in asterisks, in order of their appearances.

*If for some reason you actually don’t know who Faust is, he was the drummer on the Emperor LP and “In The Nightside Eclipse” but you might also know him from other great hits such as “threatening to kill Mortiis from prison whilst simultaneously attempting to plead murder of the secondth degree”, “I’m glad the people Euronymous ripped off won’t get their money back because he’s dead hA hA!”, “I got fourteen years for murder because I’m a socially inept virgin— oops” and “bad... bad lyrics who’s quality somehow don’t improve with the passing of time”. All jokes are done in good humour— if it seems like I dislike him, it’s not that at all. I just find him easy to make fun of.

Here is another short bio, this one less sarcastic: he was born in Trondheim, lived around Kvikne, and Lillehammer, worked at Helvete, was a close friend of Euro’s, and has his sun in Taurus.

He also beefed with Glen Benton for dissing the Party City cape (Note: of course I’m being extremely reductive) he and Euronymous seemed to share. Here are a few pictures of Faust:

Here is the infamous Party City cape:

*This was surprisingly hard to find. I think he read it in a mag or something. Here’s a link to where you can find it: https://issuu.com/davidgamble/docs/paranormal37/3 page 64-65.

*Slayer mag was another zine, this one by a bloke named Metalion, who was Euro’s best friend.

*Faust (who felt the strange need to make a distinction between himself, the editor, and himself, the interviewer) also played in Thorns (well, Stigma Diabolicum), under the hilarious moniker: Fetophagia✨

*He’s being a fucking idiot, what was I supposed to say? It should be noted that Faust actually went down for the snuff films too.....

*In case you’re interested, for whatever reason, the prices for the Burzum LP were as follows:

Norge— 130 NKR

Norden— 100 K

Finland— 60 FN

Island— 1000 IK

Europe— 15$

Outside Europe,

Overseas— 15 $

Air— 22$

East Europe— 10$

By ‘norden’ he presumably meant ‘northern Norway’, and “Island” is the Norwegian word for Iceland. Notice the way he doesn’t include Sweden! (Edit: Originally I thought he didn’t include Finland because there was a black metal war with them as well, but it seems as though that feud came a bit later or had already passed)

That’s all, for real this time!

Legal disclaimer: I am absolutely, in no way shape or form, claiming that the stupid cape you see them wearing is literally from Party City. From my limited research, I’ve gathered that the Party City chain hasn’t yet opened its doors in the beautiful and glorious country we know as Norway— Norge. However, I am saying that the cheap, dinky piece of cloth covering their backs and shoulders are of the same kind of shitty quality you’d expect from a Party City Count Dracula costume and that maybe Glen had a point about how stupid Euronymous (and Faust) must’ve looked.......

#black metal #euronymous #mayhem #emperor #euronymous interview #interview #Faust #Orcustus zine #true norwegian black metal #my transcript #Bard Faust #look at these fucking dorks

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swanpyart · 3 years ago

Text

The Short Lived Adventures of RAPH and Casey Jones

This is an old pic that was made for a zine that was never published. So I’ll leave it here. It might not ever be finished, but I think the story is decent enough on its own.

Part 1:

Casey was completely fine by herself.

Sure, her parents never really paid her any mind, but she never needed them to; Casey was a fast learner, and was able to cook, clean, and do pretty much anything the adults could do.

“Look!” Ten-year-old Casey held up an English vocabulary test, with an “100%” written in the corner in cursive. “I passed!”

“Honey,” her mother barely looked at her from her seat at her desk, “One hundred percent is the bare minimum. Anything less means you practically failed.”

There was always an empty space in the bleachers whenever Casey had a hockey game. She would cross her arms as she waited for her parents to pick her up and watched as the people in the audience rushed down and hugged their own children after a game, regardless of whether they won or lost. When her parents finally showed up, she sat in the car quietly as they drove.

Casey spent almost everyday after school at her Granny’s while her parents were at work. The old woman’s house was always warm, mostly because she was always baking; cakes, cookies, and especially her famous brownies - made with a special ingredient.

At twelve years old, Casey had failed a math test for the first time, and burst into tears as she walked through her Granny’s front door. “I’m a failure!”

“Sweetie, everyone fails every now and then,” her Granny wiped a tear from Casey’s cheek and got out an antique mixing bowl, “but I can tell you tried really hard. That’s what matters; that you don’t stop trying your best.”

Afterwards, Casey and her Granny spent the afternoon baking brownies, and that was when she was granted the knowledge of the secret ingredient. She swore her secrecy and never told anyone.

Of course, that was a while ago; her grandmother had passed away sometime afterwards. Her parents reacted with more emotion when Casey had shaved her head than when they attended the funeral.

They also seemed only mildly surprised when, at thirteen years old, Casey was accepted into the Foot Clan and never came back home.

There, Casey promised to herself to show the world just how much of a not-failure she really is! Even if she had to work with the most vile Clan in all the world to achieve it and release the Shredder, the ultimate evil, unto the world. She had worked above and beyond to get where she is, and no one could stop her!

At least, that’s what she thought before the Shredder disappeared, and with him, the Clan’s purpose. And way before those strange, overgrown turtles with no sense of honor or discipline showed up and destroyed their chances, time and time again.

Suddenly, the group she had worked with since she was a preteen, and the closest thing she had to any family, were dragged away by outside obligations she never understood.

Foot Brute and Lieutenant were better parents than her own, but, in the end, they were her bosses and coworkers, and no replacement for a family.

Sure, everyone else may have given up, but she would stay committed to the Clan’s ultimate vision, even if she had to use her dear Granny’s recipe for evil. Grandma CJ’s Brownies were an absolute bust, but she had to try something.

Then, she met this weird, giant, smelly rat with a Japanese accent dressed like a teenager who somehow turned out to be the father of those overgrown turtles.

And, as weird as it was, despite not even being human, he sat next to her and heard what she had to say; and, for those few minutes, it was almost like being next to her Granny again.

“Just because you failed doesn’t make you a failure.”

If she had been smarter, maybe she should have listened a bit harder to what he was saying. If she had been smarter, maybe she would have calmed down and talked to the girl that was beating up the Girl Scouts. There were so many opportunities to just talk.

But then the Shredder was restored, and she really thought it would be the return of her Clan’s glory. Even as she looked at the beaten down forms of her previous bosses. Even as she saw Splinter and his family struggling for their lives. Even as she realized winning would mean the end of everything, including her.

There was no more Clan. She was still alone. She was just alone with a giant evil suit of demon armor.

But, now, she wasn’t.

Even after everything, Splinter offered her an invitation into their...

Family.

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

He had invited her to the lair a few weeks after the fight with Shredder.

“I’m working at the Foot Shack. After my former clan disbanded, they got bought out by another company, Splinter, sir.” She squeezed the mug of tea in her hands.

“Just ‘Splinter’ is fine,” Splinter had opened a bag of chips, and was reclining in his seat. The turtles were out with April at the arcade, taking a break from repairing the lair. “Where are you staying? Do you have a place to live?”

“Yes, I actually have my own apartment.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. Splinter sighed. “Listen, Casey, I know that it’s probably hard having to... uh, sort things out by yourself-”

“What?! No, I’m fine!” She flapped her hand dismissively. “My life is fantastic! It’s definitely not in complete shambles after losing everything I know.” She blinked, realizing that she overshared, and collected herself. “I’m doing great.”

“I-I never said it was in shambles,” He massaged his temple with two clawed fingers, his beady eyes squinting in frustration. “Look, all I am saying is that, if you ever need help, or if you ever get lonely and just want to talk, I am here. And my sons would probably say the same thing. You’re a Hamato now, at least in spirit.”

Casey’s eyes widened, then she looked down. “Thank you, but I’m a very independent person. I’ll be sure to not bug you unless it’s an emergency.”

Splinter nodded, but he’d dealt with enough children to see that Casey was a bit lonely. Still, he said nothing.

For a good while, Casey stuck to what she said; she didn’t really come by the lair unless she really felt the need to or if they needed an extra set of hands with repairing.

But… occasionally, she found herself asking questions. She found out Michelangelo loved cooking, and somehow he got her to agree to bake her Granny’s brownies together. She realized that Leonardo wasn’t just annoying in battle, but all the time, and that she started getting more and more used to it, even occasionally laughing along. She found out while playing video games with them, that Donnatello was just as vicious as her, and that April was equally as competitive.

And Raph, well… they didn’t talk very much. But he seemed nice every time they spoke.

But she kept her distance. After all, it was better if she didn’t get too attached.

She occasionally goes down to the local hockey rink and plays a few rounds with total strangers, and usually gets kicked out due to a combo of delinquent children and complaining parents.

So, here she is, lying on her bed, staring blankly at her phone, with a half eaten sandwich laying on her chest, and old sweatpants that she’s been wearing for a week because her clothes are in the laundromat. For a ninja-slash-ex-cult-member, her life had fallen into a fairly mundane pattern.

Everything could always be worse. So why did she still feel like such a failure?

And for some reason, Casey found herself at the sewer grate. She didn’t even know why she came here, really.

She was about to turn back when a feminine voice spoke from behind her. “Hey, CJ, what’s up?”

She spun around. It was April.

“I was just coming to visit.” Casey tensed up. She hadn’t expected to run into someone else.

“Oh, me too!” She opened up the grate, and started climbing down the ladder. “You coming or what?”

Casey gulped. She couldn’t back out now.

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Raph paced the lair, quietly groaning as he tapped his chin.

It had been about six months since the fight with Shredder, but another challenge had presented itself; cleaning up the lair after it had been almost completely demolished. Thankfully, with Draxum’s help and Donnie being able to scavenge some old tech that didn’t get destroyed and whip up some devices for reconstruction, the place was finally fixed up after about a month and a half.

Now what? Well, in Leo’s words, it was the time for “rest and relaxation.”

That was pretty easy for the rest of his family to do.

Leo’s entire existence hinged on “rest and relaxation”; Mikey has an assortment of hobbies to keep him busy; Donnie had a tight schedule trying to repair all of his broken inventions; April was trying to adjust to all of the changes at school due to all of New York recovering from the recent Battle Nexus catastrophe; and Splinter, of course, was parked in front of the TV, finally at peace after the Shredder was defeated, and helping himself to milk and cake.

Raph should be relaxing, or at least recovering from all that’s happened to them. The fight with the Shredder was the most stressful and terrifying time of their lives. They lost their Gram-Gram, and even if she was now able to rest with their ancestors and her father, it still stung.

But it’s been such a long time since he’s been in a real fight, and he can tell he’s going a little bit stir-crazy.

Of course, the turtles would spend a lot of time out of the lair; but whenever Raph gets a call on the phone, he finds himself hoping it’s some kind of an emergency, only to turn out to be Todd calling them about the puppy farm, or Leo pestering Senior Hueso with an order for pick-up. It seemed like even their strongest enemies have gone on hiatus as well; there was no word of Big Mama as of late, and every other major bad guy they fought recently seemed to have been exhausted by the Shredder ordeal as well.

Raph’s usual sparring partner, Frankenfoot, is absolutely wonderful, but fighting him wasn’t exactly what Raph had in mind; it was fun, but couldn’t really be compared to the thrill of a real fight.

“Come on, guys,” Raph stood in front of the screen, blocking Leo and Mikey’s view of a Jupiter Jim rerun while Pops was passed out on the couch, snoring, a bag of chips lying open on his stomach. “We’ve been cooped up in the lair for a million years. Who wants to go wreck some bad guys?” He pounded his fist in his opposite hand for emphasis.

“Raph, I can’t see!” Mikey waved his hand in a dismissive way as he said it, and leaned to peek around his older brother and continue watching the screen.

“Ugh, we’ve been over this,” Leo exasperated from his spot on the ground, on his stomach and his head resting on his propped arms. “No crime fighting while we’re on vacation! This is the time to chillax, my guy.”

“How long are we gonna be chillaxing, exactly?” Raph put his hands on his hips, an inquisitive look on his face, even if, deep down, he knew what response he’d get.

“I don’t know, until some other crazy evil mutant guy tries to take over the city? There’s bound to be another one of those eventually.”

“What, so we just wait until some evil mastermind has some evil plan and gets all of New York in their evil clutches? It’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Raph tried to summon the energy he usually exudes when he attempts to make a rousing speech, but the rolling eyes and groans from his youngest brothers quickly made its effect futile.

“You know,” Donnie said from the back of the room, the other three having not noticed him walk in, “We did, oh, I don’t know, save all of New York City, take down Big Mama’s Battle Nexus scheme, and, most importantly, defeat our bloodline’s greatest enemy?!”

Raph furrowed his brow, his sharp fang digging into his lower lip.

“We deserve an indefinite break, and I need it, because I actually refuse to do any fighting until I have all my stuff back online. I’d love to fight with only my impeccable mind, but let’s be realistic.” The sandwich in his hand was brought to his face and he swallowed it whole. Donnie knew he had made an excellent point.

“Don’t worry,” Mikey beamed, tucking his arms and legs into his shell, “We’ll get back into the groove of things before you know it!”

“Yeah,” Leo agreed, “Think of it as, like, you know, self-care. Sometimes, you need a break from what you’re used to. Now, can you move out of the way?”

Raph sulked out of his siblings’ view of the screen and sunk into a beanbag, next to the couch their father was snoring in.

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“Hey, guys!” The turtles turn around to see April and... Foot Recruit walk in.

Raph didn’t really know what to think of Foot Recruit, or Casey, as she preferred to be called. Pops insisted that she wasn’t dangerous anymore, but it was hard for him not to be a little wary; I mean, come on, she used to work with the Shredder!

She’d been over only a handful of times over the past few months, usually to speak with Splinter and Mikey.

“Casey! April!” Mikey stuck his hands out of his shell in joy. He ran over and hugged them both. “It’s been a while.”

“Hey, Apes. And, hi to you too, Casey.” Leo kicked his legs up behind him.

“Above ground has been pretty hectic,” April leaned on Donnie’s shoulder as she spoke, “Everyone has been freaking out about disappearing from New York for a few days. Relaxing on a yacht sure beats coming back to the city in shambles. And finding another job is so hard when everyone’s paranoid we’re gonna all disappear again. Ugh, I wish we did, then I’d get another break!”

“Well, if you want a job, you can help me repair what’s left of my s- I mean, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. The Shredder tore him apart.” Donnie put his hands on his hips and relaxed his posture to cover his slip-up.

“Aw, your cute robot son isn’t repaired yet?” April teased.

As the two bickered while walking towards the lab, Raph looked back at Casey, who was standing by the entrance, visibly tense.

“Hey, Casey. Um, why are you here?” Raph asked innocently, not realizing how rude he sounded.

“Smooth,” Leo chimed in unhelpfully.

Before he could take it back, Casey spoke, with a glare on her face. “I’m here for the orange one.”

Raph blinked. “Huh?”

“We’re gonna bake brownies!” Mikey clarified, his chest puffed out with pride. “Casey decided that I’m worthy of learning an old family recipe.”

“Yes!” Casey grinned, in a way that was far too menacing for someone talking about brownies. “I decided that, as a new member of your- um…” clan? Group? Committee?

“...Family?” Raph assisted.

“Uh, yes, that,” she turned shy for a few brief seconds, only to return to her previous bravado, pumping her fist in the air, “I will honor you with the knowledge of my grandmother’s most nefarious secret!”

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Raph peeked into the kitchen as Mikey and Casey got to work. Of course, he trusted Mikey; but he had a hunch that Casey might be up to something.

Or maybe the boredom was just making him a bit more paranoid than usual.

Dirty dishes, half-full cups and brownie mix were strewn about the kitchen counter. Whatever this recipe pertained, it must be pretty intense.

“And, now, for the final ingredient. This one was given to me by my grandmother.” Casey pulled a canister of brown powder. She leaned over and whispered close to Mikey’s head. Whatever she was saying, Raph couldn’t hear.

Mikey gasped. “PUMPKIN SPICE?!”

Casey shushed him, then yelled herself. “It’s a secret, remember?!” She poured a generous amount into the mixing bowl full of batter.

The two of them looked so happy baking together, and Raph felt a pit of guilt in his stomach for assuming the worst. He really needed to chill out.

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“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Leo sunk into the bean bag chair, “You’re a fan of Lou Jitsu, right?”

“That is correct.” Casey was sitting stiffly in her seat. Her expressions were intense, like she was about to strangle someone, but Raph had realized pretty quickly that this was just her default.

“You have all of the movies memorized?”

“Of course! I used his guidelines for self improvement in my schemes to take over the world! I mean, that’s not really relevant now, but-”

“And you said you spend almost all of your available money on Lou Jitsu merch?”

“I hide them all so my guests don’t see.”

“And, yet, you’ve never watched a Jupiter Jim film? The Jupiter Jim, his longtime franchise rival and co-star in Jupiter Jim Vs Lou Jitsu?” Leo clutched at his chest, as he held up the DVD case of the movie he was talking about for emphasis.

“Leo,” Raph warned, looking up from his phone, “don’t make her feel bad-”

Leo chuckled. “Oh ho ho, trust me I won’t. I’m definitely putting on a Jupiter Jim Vs. The Galaxy Riders Part 1 and Part 2, and you are going to love it!”

Casey cackled ominously. “You really think this ‘Jupiter Jim-’” She made quotation marks with her fingers for emphasis, “-can measure up to the greatness that is Lou Jitsu? Fine, I guess we’ll just have to see.”

Raph ended up dozing off after the fifth film, and woke up to see Casey and his brother still openly debating whether Lou Jitsu would beat Jupiter Jim if they were both in a desert completely unarmed and at full strength.

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“I’m not scared of much,” Donnie mentions offhandedly one day, while Raph was doing a bicep curl, “but she -”

He points to Casey eating a sandwich like a hyena, while April sat next to her, texting.

“She terrifies me to no end.”

Donnie’s strange relationship with their new friend took Raph a while to comprehend. Then it became clear as day. If anyone could match Casey in moral ambiguity, it was his immediate younger brother.

“I made you a little gift,” the softshell grinned smugly, as he handed Casey what looked like a metal hockey stick.

“Oh, um,” Casey's eyes were wide, and a little watery, and her lips were in a warbly smile. “Thank you… no one’s ever given me something so nice.”

Donnie grinned. “Press the button on the side.”

When she did, the widest end of the hockey stick flipped open like a lighter, and a stream of fire shot out of the tip. Casey’s tears of joy gave way to maniacal laughter. “Those kids at the hockey rink won’t know what hit ‘em!”

Donnie joined her in glee, his eyes and teeth shining menacingly in the light of the flames. Raph watched in mild horror (He was plenty used to Donnie’s antics), at least until the fire alarm sounded and they were all drenched from the sprinklers.

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Another month had passed since Casey started coming around, and Raph seemed like the only one in the lair who hadn’t quite jived with her yet. Sure, his suspicion had pretty much subsided, and he liked her company plenty, but the two of them hadn’t really clicked.

However, he noticed some slight changes over time. Casey’s eyes had bags under them which were more obvious in brighter lights, and sometimes she fell asleep on April’s shoulder (and snored louder than his Pops, somehow). Sometimes, there were hints of sadness on her face, even when she was laughing along with everyone.

Raph didn’t mention it for fear of being rude, but he couldn’t help his concern. After all, if she was upset, she probably wouldn’t mention to him all of the people.

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Hockey wasn’t a sport Raph and his brothers knew much about, but he couldn’t help but get excited as Casey gushed about it, holding tightly onto the treasured tech-hockey stick Donnie had gifted her, wearing a huge grin on her face.

The two humans and four turtles (disguised as humans, of course) were just entering the hockey rink. The hall to the auditorium was cold and echoey.

“I come here every other Friday. The regulars here know my face, and they fear it. It’s ‘cause they know I’ll decimate everyone in my path!” She pumped her fist as she spoke, a sinister grin on her face, before she caught herself and straightened out. “Well, I do until the rink’s supervisors kick me out for making a scene and being mean to children.”

“Don’t sweat it, Casey,” Donnie spoke up, “You’re not the only one whose been kicked out of establishments for scaring kids.”

“Uh huh, exactly!” April agreed a bit too eagerly, and Raph looked back to see the distant, traumatized look in her eyes, and he could tell she was remembering the screams of children and the sinister laughter of animatronics at a certain pizza joint.

The six teens got to the rink’s auditorium, and put their bags down on the bleachers. There weren’t too many people around.

Mikey whistled. “This place is massive!”

As Raph put on a maroon hoodie and pulled on his skates, Casey rolled onto the rink, over to a huddle of teenagers wearing hockey gear. “Hey!”

One of the teenagers - a boy with messy brown hair covering his eyes - responded. “Oh, you again. Guys, look, it’s that crazy girl from last week.”

“The name is Cassandra Jones!” Casey pulled down the hockey mask she was wearing and held up her stick. “I’m challenging you to another round! Did you really think you’d escape my wrath?!”

The kids started laughing. “You challenge us every time we’re here, and you always lose. What makes today so different?”

Casey laughed. “Well, for one thing, I’ve got my own team now, so you better get ready to go crying to your mommy!”

The group hadn’t stopped laughing, even as Casey walked back to the bleachers. Raph raised a brow. “Uh, what was all of that?”

She looked down. “Those are my enemies,” She clenched her fists, “A group of jerks who manage to beat me every time I come here.”

Raph paused for a second. The look on her face was determined, but had a hint of sadness to it. Raph understood how she felt; wanting to fight, but getting beaten down time and time again. He’d realized a while ago that he didn’t have to do it alone; and neither did she.

Raph put an arm around Casey’s shoulders, and cupped a hand to his mouth, shouting to the teenagers from across the rink. “Hey, knuckleheads! You get ready for a match; you’re not just dealing with Cassandra Jones anymore! you’re dealing with the Mad Dogs, now!”

“Yeah, right!” One of the kids, a girl with a ponytail, shouts back.

He turned to face his brothers and April, who were sitting on the bleachers, their attention already on Raph from his shouting. “Hey, those guys over there are saying we’re gonna lose! What do we say to that?!”

“Oh ho ho, I like this energy!” Leo stood up on the bleachers, joining in the hype. April and Mikey stood up beside him.

“Yeah, you chumps aren’t even at our level!”

“Ya’ll ain’t seen nothing yet!”

Donnie stood up slowly, his arms crossed from the cold. “Yeah, we’ll definitely beat you! But-” He switched to his normal volume, “let’s not make promises we can’t keep.”

Raph dismissed him, and looked at Casey, who was smiling. Together, they were able to beat the Shredder. This would be a piece of cake.

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“Are we done? My mom is here to pick me up,” One of the kids, a girl with pigtails, mentioned as she walked towards her belongings on the bleachers.

Raph was gasping for air from his spot on the cold ground. Hockey was hard. Like, really, really hard.

In hindsight, their loss made sense; this was the turtles and April’s first time playing hockey, and even Casey, who’d been playing since she was a kid, wasn’t able to beat these kids. They really were just that good.

“Is that all you’ve got?!” Leo had fallen in front of the goal, two huge purple bruises visible on his face; one on his forehead, and the other under his eye, popping out from his green skin and red birthmarks.

Mikey was crying on his knees, while April patted his shell, cussing out one of the kids who she felt pushed him too hard. Even as the kid was walking away. “And another thing-”

Donnie lay flat nearby, looking like a purple stain on the white shiny floor. He was never good at sports, but he tried. Geez, it was almost more embarrassing, with just how hard he tried.

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They found a vending machine, and after Raph gave Leo a cold soda can to hold over his bruises, he walked past Casey, sitting with her head in her hands.

“Hey,” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and looked around to see if the others were watching. April, Mikey and Donnie were going off about losing the match, while Leo sat dejectedly in the corner, nursing his injuries. “Are you alright?”

She looked up, tears in her eyes, and her lower lip wobbling. She hastily rubbed at her face with her sleeve, her eyeliner smearing. “I’m...I’m fine.”

“Is this about us losing?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” She sighed. “It’s a lot of different things- It’s just…”

She trailed off, and Raph sat down next to her on the bleacher. He realized this had definitely been bubbling up for a while. If only he’d talked to her sooner.

“Ugh, all I’ve ever wanted was to be a success. Taking over the world was everything for me- helping the Foot, working for the Shredder, making that whole brownie pyramid-scheme. But now? I don’t have anything. I’ve hit rock bottom. Now, I’m stuck in a stupid rivalry with a bunch of kids in a hockey rink.”

She began to cry again. “What am I going to do? Am I just doomed to be a failure?”

“Just ‘cause you’re not taking over the world doesn’t make you a failure. Most people just stick to regular, everyday stuff and they turn out fine.”

“It’s not just about taking over the world,” Casey sighed. “I don’t have a purpose. No Clan, no commitments, no future. It’s like everything I do is a failure. I’m a failure.”

Raph felt himself start to tear up, too. What she was saying felt way too familiar. “You’re not the only one whose failed.”

“Huh?”

“My Pops told us we were supposed to die in order to protect the Dark Armor. We failed to do that, but we realized how messed up that was, and we decided to do our own thing. And it totally worked out for us, ‘cause we ended up destroying Shred-face once and for all.”

He stood, wiping the small tears from the corners of his eyes. “Think about it. So what that you don’t got a purpose? I get it, but your ‘purpose’ was handed to you by those Foot-faces. What do you wanna do? What do you wanna succeed at?”

Casey sat quietly for a few moments, thinking, and Raph feared that he might have said something hurtful. He was never as savvy with people as Leo or Mikey.

Then she spoke. “I spent all of my life trying to be the best, even if it meant being the biggest bad guy in the world. Now, I want to be the best good guy!”

Her expression softened. “I guess what I really want - I want to stop people who were like me once. I want to stop evil people who want to control others. But...how?”

Raph thought. Then, an idea struck him. “You and me can team up!”

“For what?”

“I was a vigilante for a little while. I mean, I used to be, but I guess since I was already part of a team, and with the whole Shredder thing, I just sort of stopped. But, since my bros are on hiatus, you and me could fight crime undercover!”

Casey was looking at her lap, her head bowed. Raph cleared his throat. “I mean, only if you wanna, it’s just a suggestion-”

“That sounds amazing.” Casey looked up at him in awe, her dark eyes glossy with unshed tears. Suddenly, she stands up, and pumps a fist into the air. “Raph and Casey, the most feared vigilante duo in all of New York!”

“Yeah, Go big or go home!” Raph pounded his fist into his other hand in excitement.

“Oh me gosh, stop yelling!” The two look behind them to Leo, still holding the can to his face. He turned in the direction of his twin. “Donnie, get me another can! This one’s warm!”

Casey was giving him a big smile, a far cry from her previous mood. Raph smiled back. Finally, he’d be able to go out and fight crime again; and this time, he wouldn’t be at it alone.

#rottmnt #rottmnt raphael #rottmnt raph #rottmnt Casey jones #rottmnt casey #rottmnt foot recruit #Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles

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chatonne-rousse · 4 years ago

Text

Three Kids and a Hamster

This was my contribution to the @adrienettezine. I joined the zine as a beta and ended up as a pinch hitter - this sweet little fluffy story was the result. I hope you enjoy it! I just love these two so much.

Read it on Ao3 here.

**********************

The same full moon that lit their way over rooftops and across the Seine an hour before shines through the hatch above the bed, illuminating their entwined legs in its gentle glow and casting shadows on the room below. Even if she weren't tucked beneath his arm with her cheek against his chest, this would be a place of perfect peace, awash in a sense of rightness and comfort and home. It makes his chest constrict all of a sudden, his next inhale a sharp shudder that rouses her immediately from near-sleep.

"You okay, Chaton?" she murmurs, eyes wide and worried.

He reassures her with a soft, genuine smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just...thinking."

Bending forward to press a kiss to her forehead, he pulls her back down to his chest and starts up a purr for her. The breathy giggle he gets in return is always worth the twinge of embarrassment and the weird tickle in his throat.

"About what?"

The purr dies down, replaced with a contented hum. "How much I love you, of course, Princess. What else?"

As expected, she swats him playfully and laughs, but a moment later he feels her hand stretch across his torso as she cuddles closer into his side.

"I mean it," she whispers into his shirt. "Your breathing got all weird. What's wrong?"

"Bugaboo, you know you take my breath away!"

"Adrien."

Her voice is all no-nonsense Ladybug, but it just makes him grin wider.

"I'm actually not kitten, Marinette."

She groans and lifts her head again but when she meets his gaze after an exaggerated eye roll, her features soften in response to his. She begins to duck her head shyly before changing course and pressing her lips to his instead, soft and sweet and warm. His eyes slip shut and he melts beneath her, his ever-romantic heart singing her name over and over in a three-beat cadence.

"I love you, too," she whispers against his lips, finally breaking away after a long, slow kiss that leaves them both breathless.

After a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth and another on his jaw, she settles back into the crook of his neck, her breath warm and tickly and perfect against his skin.

Logically, he knows he needs to transform and head home, but the stark difference between his bedroom prison and Marinette's warmth is enough to keep him here just a little longer, stretching time and tempting fate.

Wouldn't it be wonderful, he thinks, as the sleepy calm drifts over them once more, to stay here forever, just like this?

He imagines waking up this way, morning breath and snoring kwamis and a warm tangle of limbs illuminated by a new day's dawnlight instead of the quiet moon. Perhaps there would be a purring cat asleep on the bed with them. And one day, maybe, he'd wake to find a toddler who had crawled up onto the bed and wriggled between them in the night to be close to maman and papa. A family. His heart squeezes with emotion again, but he keeps his breathing steady and Marinette doesn't seem to notice this time.

Dreaming of what the future might hold seems like an extravagant luxury in a world where a supervillain regularly terrorizes Paris and threatens to rend the very fabric of the universe and its delicate balance. Then again, isn't that all the more reason to dream?

Even with the freedom being Chat Noir grants him, the responsibility of avoiding that fate is a heavy weight across his shoulders, and a far more cumbersome yoke on his Lady's. Imagining a day when they can transform for fun instead of necessity, cook dinner together, fall asleep just like this, and not have to wonder if an akuma alert will rouse them before the sun—well, that just makes him fight each battle harder and despise Hawkmoth that much more. After all, the fate of humanity includes the fate of Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, too.

Her fingers glide feather-light at his wrist, so he knows she's still awake, and before he can think twice about it, he's murmuring a question into the dark.

"Hey, Bug?" He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Do you ever think about...the future?"

Her hand stops its gentle, soothing motion against his arm, and he misses the feeling immediately.

"After we defeat Hawkmoth, or...?" she trails off.

"That could happen tomorrow, so let's start with tomorrow and go from there."

She resumes her caress, though this time her hand trails higher, up and under his t-shirt sleeve to the warm skin of his bicep. He smiles against her hair and hugs his heat-seeking little bug tighter.

"Well, tomorrow we have a calculus test, then you have a piano lesson after school. I really didn't plan anything beyond that, but if we're going to squeeze in an epic final battle with Hawkmoth, I suppose I should work on my history project at lunch to get ahead."

"Cheeky bug!" He tickles her in retaliation, and she giggles into his chest. "I was being serious!"

"I know, Minou." She laughs for another moment but says nothing more.

He waits through one deep breath, then two, before he whispers her name, questioning, against her hair.

She cranes her neck to look up at him, her gaze shy but warm. "It's just...can I be weird?"

Ah, that explains her reticence. The delighted half-smile that crosses his face is pure Chat Noir, but he can't help it. He loves this.

"Of course, My Lady. Always."

Five months and four days ago (yes, he's counting—it was the greatest day of his life, so far), after more than three years of superhero partnership and civilian friendship, an unplanned reveal, and the awkward nine day aftermath (yes, he counted—it was awful), they'd finally made it official. Adrien and Marinette had, at least. Ladynoir was still under wraps for now to avoid suspicion, but he looked forward to the day when a real kiss they could both remember would grace the front page of the Ladyblog.

At the beginning, between blissful kisses and timid touches, they'd taken the time to really get to know each other—with no secrets between them, a whole, beautiful picture emerged. It was amazing and thrilling and freeing. It was also a bit embarrassing.

She'd seen him in his Ladybug pajamas one evening when she'd stopped by his bedroom for an unplanned visit. Another afternoon, he'd opened a drawer in her room looking for a pen and discovered approximately two dozen photos of himself looking back at him. Plagg had unceremoniously dropped Adrien's Ladybug and Chat Noir action figures onto Marinette's lap while they watched a movie and proceeded to tell her that Adrien sometimes played with his dolls and made them kiss. He'd never been so mortified in his life (and he once fought an akuma wearing a banana costume, so that was saying something), especially when Marinette had laughed until she cried.

He'd have sentenced the tiny magical agent of chaos to eating Velveeta for a week if Marinette hadn't caught her breath, removed his hands from his beet-red face, and kissed him silly.

Afterward, lovestruck, he'd asked, "So I'm not...weird?"

Cheeks still stained with the sweetest blush, eyes soft and bright and full of love, she'd responded, "Of course you are, kitty. I already knew that," and kissed him again for good measure. "It's a good thing your Lady is just as weird."

And just like that, it was okay. His pajamas, her photo collection, his action figures, her calendar.

Can I be weird? preceded his admission of being unable to sleep if his Marinette lucky charm wasn't beneath his pillow. It was asked before he learned she slept with her handmade Chat Noir plushie beside her every night.

The question is rhetorical, of course. Permission to be weird is simply indemnity from embarrassment, a solemn vow of understanding between them. It's been the lead-in to many shared secrets and it still gives him a little thrill every time, just knowing that he's about to learn another closely-held tidbit about his Lady.

Tonight, he's especially curious—the question he asked was about the future, after all.

"I used to think about it a lot," she begins quietly. "And I mean, a lot. I'm a planner, you know."

Oh, he knows. Thank goodness one of them is.

"You've seen my sketchbook. You saw my wedding dress designs and all your possible matching tuxes. Alya's dress and Nino's suit..."

"And they were beautiful, Bug. I loved them all."

He can feel her smile against his t-shirt collar.

"Thank you, Chaton. But...it's not just that. I, um...I chose the flowers for my bouquet, I planned the menu for the reception dinner—"

"And your parents will make the croquembouche," he whispers, suddenly entranced.

She nods, but goes silent once more. He wants to hear about everything—the venue she imagined for the service and reception, what they'll wear at the civil ceremony prior, whether their guests will throw rice or rose petals or wheat as they exit as newlyweds. It's all so beautiful, his heart is positively singing; how could she ever think this is weird?

"I named our children."

The song in his heart comes to an abrupt stop when the rhythm falters before restarting at hummingbird speed.

Dazed, he breathes, "Our..."

"I know!" she groans. She covers her eyes with one hand and buries her face in his shirt. Her voice is muffled, but he's hanging on every word. "I told you it was weird! I named them! I thought about who would be youngest, oldest, middle--"

"Three?" He chokes on air. Is he even breathing?

"I designed the little outfit we'd bring each of them home from the hospital in. Their nursery had a theme! Our hamster had a name! I imagined our house, our garden, the layout of the kitchen, the color of our master bathroom!"

"What color?" he asks weakly.

A pause.

"Blue."

"I love blue."

"I know."

Silence descends again, as he attempts to regulate his breathing and bring his swirling, scattered thoughts under control. She hasn't moved a muscle, and neither has he. Honestly, he's thankful to be moored to his steadfast port in the storm right now, so he can't float away or slip under.

"Adrien?"

He hums questioningly in response.

"I'm sorry." Her voice is small and tinged with sadness, slicing directly through his current bubble of overwhelmed euphoria in an instant.

Sitting up so quickly that she's dislodged from his side with a startled squeak, he pulls both of her hands between his and brings her close enough to really see her face in the shadowy moonlight.

"Why are you sorry?" he asks, baffled. "That was..." he trails off, shaking his head as he searches for the correct word, wanting to convey his feelings properly. Incredible doesn't seem like enough. Perfect, perhaps? A dream I didn't know I had until you said it, and now I want that exact thing more than I've ever wanted anything in my life?

"Crazy, I know. Selfish."

"What? No!" he exclaims, and her wide eyes snap to meet his. "Marinette, it sounds amazing!"

"Amazing?"

He lets go of her hands to gather her in a hug instead, happy to feel her arms wrap tightly around him in turn.

"Amazing," he murmurs against her hair, hoping she can hear the sincerity in his voice. "Why do you think it's selfish?"

"Because...because I never thought about what you'd want, not really. Maybe you don't want kids—"

"I want kids," he interrupts.

"Or maybe you don't like hamsters."

"Mari, I love hamsters."

She smiles against his skin. "I'm glad. I thought you'd want a cat."

"Oh, I do," he says, nodding.

"I knew it!" she laughs. "But I didn't know any of that back then. I just dreamed my own wild dreams and brought a fantasy of future you along for the ride. It wasn't fair to you." She leans back, settling her wrists over his shoulders and searching his gaze with her own. "You deserve to have a say in your own life, Adrien. For once."

A wave of stunned gratitude wells up within him and he swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. No one, not even his beloved mother, has ever extended him the courtesy of autonomy, much less apologized for not considering it in the first place. The way Marinette loves him, with a selfless, gentle kindness, is like nothing he's ever known, and it overwhelms him sometimes.

Oh, he loves her so much.

"Marinette," he says, when he's able to. "Do you want to live on a desert island with me and eat only fruit for the rest of our lives?"

She blinks, confused.

"Because that was one of my dreams," he continues. "You—well, Ladybug—me, our hamster, and a ton of fruit. Silly, right?" He shrugs. "I was a lovesick teenager. I have a feeling you know something about that, don't you, Bugaboo?" His cheeky wink and Chat Noir smirk are rewarded with the blush and giggle he'd hoped for. "My point is, I wasn't thinking about what you wanted when I daydreamed about that, and I never worried about it. You have nothing to be sorry for, Bug."

Her smile is bright even in the shadowy loft. "Thanks, Minou. Those were fun dreams."

"Were? You don't want the hamster and the blue bathroom anymore? I was just getting excited about our house and three kids."

"What do you dream about?" She asks, clearly dodging the question with one of her own.

He doesn't even have to think on it to know the answer.

"A family. Hugs. Eating dinner at a little table together. Going to the beach and seeing you in your bikini."

She snorts. "Tomcat."

"I'm only human, Mari."

"Adrien, you can purr."

"Touché."

They can only laugh. Their lives really are ridiculous.

"Princess?" He asks after they've settled into silence again. "What are their names?"

"Who?"

"Our kids."

She takes a deep, deep breath, and it feels like an eternity before she speaks. "Emma, Louis, and Hugo."

"I love them already," he breathes, imagination awhirl with scenes of bedtime stories and blanket forts and the myriad other childhood joys he only knows about from movies and tv. It's so beautiful, they're so beautiful, that he has to clench his teeth for a moment to keep from crying. "Have you drawn them?"

She nods, brow starting to furrow in concern at what must be one hell of an expression on his face.

"And their clothes? The nursery? Our kitchen?"

"Yes, I told you I was—"

"You're amazing, Marinette. I can't wait to see them. I can't wait to meet them."

Before he knows it, she's pulled him into her embrace, whispering her love against his shoulder. If a few tears escape into her hair, she doesn't say a word. They stay like that for a few long, sweet moments, until a thought pops into his mind.

"Mari? Why didn't Plagg find those drawings when he found your sketchbook of wedding ideas?"

She pulls away from him and giggles. "Because that sketchbook is hidden under the mattress."

"Along with how many of my photos?"

The mock-glare she levels at him would be terrifying if she weren't so adorable. He leans in and watches her stern expression slacken just before their lips connect and his eyes close, and her soft sigh tells him he's forgiven once more for teasing her.

They fall back against the cat pillow and soft pink sheets once more, rearranging their bodies to that perfect fit that reminds him every time how phenomenally lucky he is to have found his soul's other half as a teenager via ancient magic and fated proximity. The kiss deepens, his hands clutch at her back, and he thrills at the feel of her fingers in his hair. This is everything, everything—love and light and power and freedom, the chance for a future, a home, a family.

It's just another late autumn Tuesday night in Paris. Marinette will convince him to stay for another hour, he'll set an alarm. They'll go to school again tomorrow and, though it's certainly possible they'll defeat Hawkmoth before the day is over, it's more likely they'll simply fight and cleanse another akuma before returning to the library to work on that history project.

But it's suddenly different. He's always fought for Paris, for the safety of his friends and family, for his beloved partner. Now? A new and different feeling of protectiveness rises in his chest, even as her tongue brushes the seam of his lips and his purr rumbles gently between their bodies.

Hawkmoth will rue the day he tried to take Emma, Louis, and Hugo away before Adrien could meet them. He makes the promise right here and now, with his Lady in his arms and their kwamis sleeping on the desk below: Every akuma from now until he can punch Hawkmoth in the face and rip the misused miraculous from him, Chat Noir will fight for Paris, the world, and that shining dream of the future. He's one half of an unstoppable team. Together, they can, and will, do anything.

He and Marinette have three kids and a hamster to look forward to, after all. And it's going to be amazing.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #ml fanfiction #adrienette zine #i’m unrepentant adrienette trash #tooth-rotting fluff #it's my jam

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reneeofthestars · 4 years ago

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Nerra Voa Numa

** I’m so excited to finally share the fic I wrote for “Found: A Clone Wars Zine”!! This was such an amazing project to be a part of, and I’m so thankful to the mods for allowing me to participate. **

***Leftover sales for the zine are currently open, so check out @foundaclonewarszine if you are interested in purchasing one of these amazing zines!***

Click “Keep Reading” to stay on Tumblr, or read it on AO3

* * *

The bustle of the spaceport felt oddly comforting. Boil squinted against the harsh Rylothian sunlight as he stepped off the hoverbus, letting himself be jostled along by the crowd. Food carts tempted him with sweet aromas, pilots called for cargo or passengers, engines roared and sputtered on the landing platforms, droids and beings alike called and beeped and whistled.

The debarkation processes for civilian freighters and transports were far less organized than those the Grand Army of the Republic had used, but it had a liveliness to it, an energy that reminded Boil of the anticipation that had filled him the first time he watched the oceans of Kamino shrink into a cloudy sphere before vanishing altogether in the blur of hyperspace.

He hadn’t felt that excitement in years. When the Imperial troops loaded into the cruisers – that is, the Star Destroyers – it was like watching some parody of Boil and his fellow soldiers. The clones set out under orders to drive back the mindless Separatist droids and defend the citizens, and their focus was palatable. The stormtroopers were commanded to instill order – even when there was no disorder to be found – and their energy felt…wrong.

Boil had worn the stormtrooper armor for years as he trained new recruits. He remembered how civilians had looked at the clone troopers when they came to the cities during the war – yes, there had been skepticism and dismissal; but there had also been relief, friendliness, appreciation. As a stormtrooper, he only felt positive emotions from a select few Core Worlds. Everywhere else, the civvies looked uneasy, mistrustful, even scared.

But he had been able to chalk those feelings up to the vast changes in the galaxy. The war had begun and ended so suddenly; residual turmoil was expected. He went on as he always had: a soldier following orders.

And he had fellow clones in the ranks that he spent time with. They mostly kept to themselves; the natural-born recruits viewed them as either superiors or inferiors. They had quietly complained about the degraded plastoid armor and inefficient helmets, reminisced old battles, spoken to each other like only brothers could. But one by one, they died in skirmishes with criminals, or were forced into retirement by their superiors, until Boil was the last clone at the Arkanis Imperial Academy. He’d never been without a brother before, and the loneliness had almost swallowed him whole.

He had known it was only a matter of time, but that hadn’t stopped the swooping sensation in his gut the day his supervisory officer told him to clear out his bunk and come to her office. He’d signed the discharge doc absently, writing his nickname without thinking. The officer had scowled and ordered him to resign it with his birth number.

And now, here he was: a clone on Ryloth with a limited credit supply, a bag of clothes, his old armor, and no idea what he was supposed to do now.

A passing Rodian caught his eye and frowned, like she was trying to figure out if she knew him. Boil ducked his head and hurried on, securing his headwrap closer to his face, trying to obscure it best he could. It had been ten years since the end of the war, and most civilians seemed to have already forgotten its existence. But there was still an impression that the clones were somehow responsible for the hardships of the war, which could lead to…problems. Boil ran a gloved hand over his face. Getting a job would be difficult.

Maybe he could be a mechanic. Or a mercenary. Or maybe a bodyguard. He’d have to find a place to buy a good blaster – the Empire hadn’t let him take his standard-issue blaster with him. Outside of war, he wasn’t sure what he could actually do. Maybe –

“Nerra.”

Boil froze. The voice was high and feminine, coming from somewhere off to his right. It was said quietly, almost absently, but it struck him to the core. He had a flash of a ghost town in a canyon, a small girl calling after him –

He spun around.

A young, teal-skinned Twi’lek woman was walking past, pushing a hovercrate brimming with electronic scrap. She wasn’t looking at him; she focused on the crowd in front of her, shooing away vendors that got too close.

Boil felt his breath catch, turning to tell Waxer – but no, Waxer had died years ago, what was he thinking?

He didn’t recall stepping forward. All he knew was tripping over his own feet as he hurried after her. “Ex – excuse me? Ma’am!”

She kept walking.

“Ma’am? Ma’am!” Why were his hands shaking? He stumbled to a stop. “Numa?”

She jerked to a halt, whipping around to face him, her head-tails swinging. Her eyes widened. “What did you say?” she demanded in heavily accented Basic.

“I – ” Boil faltered. “You called me ‘nerra’.”

The woman’s face flushed a darker teal. “It’s – it’s just an old habit. I didn’t mean to –”

“No, you – you called me ‘nerra’ when I was here. During the war. Me and Waxer.”

She fell silent. Her wide brown eyes were streaked with violet, taking in his face, his height, his orange-marked greaves visible just below his oversized poncho. Very quietly, she asked, “Boil?”

He laughed. It had been so long since anyone called him by his nickname. He wasn’t sure why it happened, but his knees gave out.

And then she was there, little Numa, alive and healthy, if still a little too thin, kneeling in front of him, her hands holding onto his shoulders as he shook.

“You’re alive,” he gasped. “I’m so glad – you’re alive. So many people died – so many we couldn’t save…”

“Shh.” She looked around, apprehensive. The crowd had parted for them, and Boil realized he was attracting stares. “Come with me. I’ll help you.”

“No, it’s – it’s alright,” he grunted, fighting to pull himself together. The last thing he wanted was a patrol of stormtroopers to see him like this. “I don’t know – what came over me. I just – I’m glad you’re alright, that’s all. I’ll be going –”

“No,” Numa said fiercely. “You helped me. You helped my people. It’s my turn to help you.”

Boil let Numa pull him to his feet, surprised by her strength. Wordlessly, he took the hovercrate from her. She hesitated before nodding slightly and leading him through the winding streets. He wiped his face with the cloth of the headwrap, embarrassed.

He followed her into the residential quarter, the chaos of the spaceport fading away behind them. It was a quiet area, save for the wind whistling through the rocks around them. The homes had been hewn into the stone; they were much better-kept than the village he and Waxer had found Numa in all those years ago. Adult Twi’leks chatted outside of homes as children chased each other. Several of them called out to Numa, throwing Boil curious looks. He kept his head bowed.

Finally, Numa had him park the hovercrate along the side of a particular building. She tossed a large rough blanket on top of it, camouflaging it with the stone. That caught his attention. He looked at Numa sharply, but she either didn’t notice or chose not to respond.

“Uncle Nilim!” she called, leading the way inside the house. The entry room opened into a sparsely decorated common area, with cushions and seats arranged around an outdated holoprojector.

An aging, blue-skinned Twi’lek man appeared from an interior room. It took him a moment to see Boil, then recoiled when he did. He held a frantic arm out to Numa, crying something in Ryl.

She said something very quickly in reply, her lekku twisting and gesturing, and Boil remembered a lesson on Kamino in his childhood; Twi’leks used their head-tails to communicate in tandem with their oral language. He’d never paid attention before. It was like the hand signals he’d used with other clones.

The man still looked skeptical; he skirted the edge of the room before approaching. He and Boil stared at each other for a long time before the Twi’lek finally gave a small nod. “You are older. But it is you.” He pronounced every word deliberately, with great care. He seemed to be practicing his Basic.

“And it’s you,” Boil responded, realization dawning on him. Numa had run to this man when Ghost Company had liberated her village. Boil had always assumed he was her father. But she called him ‘uncle’…

The man smiled. He placed a hand on his heart as he bowed his head. “Nilimb’ryl. Nilim Bril,” he introduced himself. “I am honored to finally meet you, Nerra.”

“My name is Boil. Uh, thank you,” Boil said hastily, bowing his head too.

Nilim gestured towards the common area, and Boil followed the two Twi’leks as they sat on some plump cushions. Boil mimicked them, grunting as he lowered himself to the seat. He was getting old.

“I told you we would meet again someday,” Numa said, beaming as she nudged her uncle. She looked to Boil, sitting forward eagerly on her cushion. “And where is the other? Waxer?”

The air rushed from Boil’s lungs. It never got any easier.

He didn’t need to say anything. Numa’s face fell. She extended an arm and touched his shoulder gently. “I’m so sorry.”

“He’d be glad you’re okay.” Boil forced a smile. “He always wondered if the war left you alone once we liberated the planet. It sounds ridiculous, cuz we only knew you for a day…but you left a big impact on him. On both of us.”

He set his pack down and reached inside. Nilim shrank away, reflexively grabbing his niece’s arm. “It’s alright,” Boil said quickly, holding up his hands. “I don’t have a blaster. I just want to show Numa something.” He didn’t move until Nilim nodded.

Boil moved his assorted belongings aside until his hand closed around his helmet. He hadn’t worn it since the war, but he’d been allowed to keep his armor, and the detail on the bucket was still intact. He stared at the visor, his reflection gazing back at him.

“When we found you, Waxer realized you might think we were droids, so he took his bucket off so’s not to scare you.”

“I did think that,” she admitted. “I remember being scared – I thought the droids were going to take me too. Then when I saw his face – ” she laughed. “I’d never actually met a Human before, so I wondered where his lekku were.”

“And when I took mine off, you pointed at us both and said ‘nerra’.” Boil was quiet for a moment. “He didn’t want to leave you behind. I did. If it had been up to me, I would have left you there, to continue my mission. Waxer was always a better man than me.” He hung his head, grip tight on the helmet.

“You’re a soldier,” Numa answered, her voice soft. “Sometimes you have to make hard calls. But you made the choice to help me. And you saved me. You saved all of us.”

Boil chuckled. “Heh. Well you saved us, too. Those two-legged insects would’ve eaten us if you hadn’t gotten us outta there.” He lifted the helmet from his pack and handed it to her.

She took it, her brow creasing as she examined the cartoonish figure painted on the side. Waxer had painstakingly added the decal to both their helmets.

Discomfort settled on him as Numa silently stared at the drawing of herself. “We both wanted to remember you,” he offered awkwardly. “When the war started, we knew we were fighting for the Republic, but it was just an idea. It’s not like we’d ever lived in it, or knew why it was better than the Separatists. But we saw what happened to the civilians caught in the middle. Waxer wanted us to remember who we were really fighting for. For you, and for people like you.”

Numa remained silent, her expression unreadable, her lekku still.

Nerves fluttered in Boil’s gut. He cleared his throat and tried to explain. “Our armor was the one thing that was our own. We never had possessions – we moved around too much, and it’s not like we had much shore leave. So, we clones started painting our armor to make it our own. Different colors for different companies, accents for battles, tally marks for fallen brothers… everyone was different.” He fiddled with the hem of his pack, waiting for a response that didn’t come. “It was the best way we had of honoring people. We always said our armor showed who we were, and who made us that way.”

Numa said nothing. Carefully, she set the helmet beside her. She stood abruptly and hurried from the room, refusing to look at him.

Something caught in Boil’s throat and he gulped, rocking forward on his cushion to stand, but Nilim laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Give her a moment,” he advised.

Boil slumped. “I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“People end up where they need to be.”

What a strange thought. It reminded Boil of something a Jedi would say. A flash of – anger? shame? – shot through him before dissipating as quickly as it came. Keeping his voice low, Boil looked at Nilim. “Where are her parents?”

Nilim’s gaze drifted, his smile slipping away. “My brother and his wife were killed in the attack in Nabat. I have raised Numa since their passing.”

“I’m sorry,” Boil said. The only family he’d ever known were his brothers. He didn’t know what it felt like to have parents – or to lose them – but he imagined the pain was the same. A wave of guilt drove him to his feet. “I’d better get going. I’m only making things worse.”

The Twi’lek’s eyes widened, startled. “Numa will not want you to go. You are welcomed here.”

“I’m a clone,” he said gruffly. “I’m not welcomed anywhere.”

“Stay.”

Numa stood in the doorway, cradling something decorative. The whites of her eyes looked vaguely red, and her mouth was held in a thin line. She shifted from foot to foot, looking almost apprehensive.

“This is a Kalikori,” Numa said, holding the decorative piece reverently.

“It is a totem,” Nilim explained, “passed down the line of a Twi’lek family.”

“It honors all who have come before. It is our way of remembering our family.” She held it out to Boil, and he took it gingerly.

It was a long series of intricately carved figures, arranged in a T-shape with charms and carvings hanging from the points. Stone, wood, metal, and clay pieces were engraved with symbols and shapes. It was easy to see that great care had been put into creating it.

At the bottom of one of the strands were two small orange and white blocks joined by a teal rectangle with some sort of script chiseled into it. Boil’s mouth went dry, a prickling sensation springing up behind his eyes. “What does that say?”

“Nerra voa Numa,” she answered quietly, watching him closely. “Brothers and Sister.”

Tears spilled from his eyes as Boil held the Kalikori tightly to his chest. His shoulders shook and his breaths turned to gasps and sobs. He turned his face away, ashamed. He hadn’t cried like this since he’d learned of Waxer’s death.

Hands rested on both of his shoulders as he wept; one large and calloused, one slight and gentle.

“Boil.” Numa paused, taking a deep breath. “For the last ten years, every time I saw a clone, I would say ‘Nerra’, hoping that one of them would react to it the way you did. I’ve wanted to find you ever since you left. I don’t want you to leave again.”

“We added you to the Kalikori years ago,” Nilim murmured. “You have been a part of us all this time. You have a home here, if you wish.”

The words stuck in Boil’s throat. “I…I need to think on it.” He dashed a hand across his eyes, fighting to steady his breathing. He handed the Kalikori back to Numa, and she gently set it down.

“Of course.” Nilim squeezed his shoulder. “And while you think, I will be making lunch. You are hungry?”

“Thank you,” Boil said, successfully distracted by the idea of a home-cooked meal. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten anything that wasn’t rations or Imperial-regulated meals.

Nilim left the room. Boil and Numa sat in near-silence as Boil worked to control his breathing. The tears kept falling, but they were drying, which he was grateful for; Numa was watching. From the other room, he heard Nilim shuffling about, cookware scraping together as he worked. Once he trusted himself to speak, Boil pitched his voice low. “Numa, why did you hide those electronic components?”

She looked to him appraisingly, and suddenly she seemed much older, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was no longer the frightened child that had trailed behind him all those years ago.

“Because beneath those electronic components are blasters for Syndulla’s resistance. The Free Ryloth Movement never truly dissipated. The war never ended here.”

Between them, the Kalikori and his helmet rested side-by-side. “I want to help you.”

She beamed, and before Boil could move, she’d thrown her arms around him tightly. He started in surprise before returning the hug.

When she drew back, her eyes were dancing. “I’ll message Cham and let him know you’re with us. Not a word to Uncle Nilim, though. He’s not on board with me being in the resistance yet.”

“I understand.”

“I’m glad you’re with us, brother. There’s much work to be done.”

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unioncolours · 3 years ago

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A 2nd Majsasaurus Year!

Today, 22nd of September 2021, it’s been two years since I officially joined the magical world of fandom. 22.9.2019 I uploaded the first chapter to my fic Shadows and Sand, and the rest is history.

I did a deep dive into my first year as a fic writer and active member of fandom last year, when it was my first anniversary. You can read it here!

In that meta discussion about my membership of fandom, I presented it as if walking on clouds. I was so, so happy and talked during all the discussion about my happiness in fandom.

Since that post was written, my life and also my perception of the fandom I am part of has changed. Change isn’t always bad, as I really had a honeymoon phase with fandom over a year ago, and the low after hit hard.

But let’s see what I’ve been up to and what I’ve been writing! The following year provided much change and fun things! Please keep reading 💜⬇

The first fic I wrote since 22.9.2020 was a Sakura x Ino fic. I had for a longer while been interested in writing a woman-loves-woman ship, which I had never done before, and as a wlw-person myself the urge to explore that part led to Promise me this is just a kiss. The pairing itself was chosen on rather random, it had to be two women and I like Ino, so I chose the most popular Ino-wlw ship for this for convenience.

I really liked writing the fic and it was well-received! It was the first time I had written a fic that was entirely centred around exploring feelings and having sex.

After this I jumped directly onto the next idea that had been boiling inside me for a longer while. Up to this point, all I had written, except the wlw-fic, had been set in the Naruto canonverse and I was itching to try to work with a multi-chaptered modern au! The pairing was of course my beloved Shikadai x Inojin.

It was during the creation of this fic I began to struggle. This was a new genre, as this was romance only and all my other works had been action and fantasy based, except the sex fic of course. I was maybe over critical and stressed, which resulted in me having a hard time writing it. But I made it. Was the sky always this beautiful? ended up being 35k long, and in hindsight, I freaking love, love, love how it turned out in the end and what it represented. I am very proud of this fic.

I “upgraded” as a fan by the end of October when I bought myself a digital drawing tablet. I began drawing fanart of Shikadai and Inojin and preferably them two together, haha! I still draw a few days a month and find it extremely fun as a side hobby beside the writing.

We are now in November 2020. By this time, I had completely finished my zine fic, Under the Scorching Sun, which I had written during September and October, for the Shikatema zine I was kindly accepted to. I was proud of what I had created and was eager for the rest of the contributors to wrap up theirs, so we’d have a wonderful zine for sale in 2021. It was lovely to write ShikaTema again. As the zine fic was about to be released in months from when I had at first finished it, I wanted of course to write something fans and friends could immediately take part of on the internet. I had hyped myself up to a state where I wanted to write a third and final story in my series To love and never let go, my epic series about Shikadai and Inojin.

Now, I should maybe have waited another month, but I was worried the readers would give up on me if I didn’t write it right away. In December, I began writing To find hope in the Universe, with my usual speed and love for the art.

What I by then didn’t realise or even recognise was that I was very slowly turning burned out. I ignored all the signs.

In December I wrote simultaneously as Hope in the Universe a fic that was part of the Shikatema server’s Secret Santa event. The fic’s name was The Ghost Stories of our Hearts, and it was ShikaTema, as the event’s name suggests. It was fun to write and despite the final big fic, Hope in the Universe, pressing down on me, I finished The Ghost Stories of our Hearts and was very happy with the result. Sadly, at this point the burnout began taking control over me, and I never managed to reply to the comments.

The 15th of January, I began uploading To find hope in the Universe. It was a lovely experience, even if it was tainted by negative feelings coming from my decreasing happiness and the fact that it didn’t do as well as To dance above the Stars, the second fic in the series. To deal with two very contradiction emotions, loving my work, the characters, how I have painted an entire world around the characters and how I knew some people honestly loved my hard work, and then the negative feelings coming from not feeling good enough and depressed, was a difficult thing to navigate and still is when I think back to that time. It didn’t help that during the process of uploading the fic I went through grief, and I chose distraction as my coping method. I kept writing and working, the only thing I ever knew.

Our pre-order of the Shikatema zine was in full motion by this time and it was a nerve-wracking time! Mostly because of excitement but also worry. I’m super happy for my friends who were part of the zine, with whom I could share all the excitement and nervousness with. The zine ended up making good sales, which made me happy among the uploading of the long fic.

To find hope in the Universe was completed 31st of March 2021. When I uploaded the final chapter, I felt nothing. It was so weird, so spooky, to have finished a long fic and a series on top of that and not feel anything. But deep down, beneath the layer of depression, I felt great pride.

That was the emotion that broke free once the burnout left me. Pride.

I had created this empire of Shikajin, a whole alternative timeline, an alternative canon from my own head and to this day, that is my internet legacy. I love Trial of the Heart, which I wrote in 2020, but if I have to choose between ToH and this series, I will choose To love and never let go in a heartbeat.

So, even if it felt depressing and hopeless in the moment, I look now back with pride and happiness. Never forget that. Never forget that I made that.

April was a curious time. I swore to not write anything, because I had by now recognised that I was burned out and needed to rest, yet managed to scrape together three smaller fics.

The first one was another wlw-smut fic, TemaSaku this time called Another Light. I wanted to explore that part once again. I wrote it in canonverse and honestly think the fic ended up extremely nice. Perfect amount of feels and sex. It didn’t feel hard to write at all, because the setting, characters and emotions were so different from the fics I had written the last five months.

Now more interesting things lay on the horizon! A new zine, the Ino-Shika-Cho zine called Beyond a Bond had an interest check during the spring, and later the contributor application. I urged in the interest check to please give us the next gen kids, Shikadai, Inojin and Chocho – my kids and babies, and when it turned out they were going to feature, I had to apply as a writer. For this application I wrote a one shot, called It’s just hair, and I loved this spunky little story featuring the best babies that I created.

I also edited one of my tumblr fics, And then I kissed him, into a longer, better version that I later in May uploaded onto AO3. It was once again a Shikajin, a sequel of Trial of the Heart, and it was a fun little project.

Now May came and I sent in the application for the zine early, which I now am relieved I did. I am happy that I did the work for the application in April instead of May, because in May I had a few breakdowns and another grieving period, which lead to complete creative paralysis. I didn’t write a single word during May, only uploaded the two one shots I had prepared in April.

What I did do in May was to read through the Shikatema zine I had contributed to! It arrived in the mail! I was so nervous; my whole body was shaking when I opened the package right outside the post office. The zine now resides on the parade place in my little zine shrine in the bookshelf. Thank you to the mods who made this a reality!

To my great happiness my zine adventures continued as I was accepted to the Ino-Shika-Cho zine as a writer and was assigned to write my favourite characters. I felt so relieved and overjoyed, mind blown by the sheer talent among the contributors.

On the other fandom front, June didn’t continue any brighter, with stress and mental pain still having a strong grip around me, despite the very happy news that I am still so grateful for. I wrote a Yamanaka family fic which to this day hasn’t seen the light of AO3, because of negative emotions surrounding it. I turned into a complete wreck compared to me in June 2020. In June 2020 I was flourishing, I loved what I did, I loved fandom and I loved the friends I had made through Discord servers. Now I could find myself crying my eyes out over a wip not going the way I wished it would. What had happened to Bex 2021?

I was so incredibly frustrated with myself, groaning in defeat when my hands just couldn’t write. I managed to push through 6k of what I called my “emo au” – more of that later – and finish the Yamanaka fic which is still buried, and on top of that I had the zine and another fandom event, The Naruto Photo Album, to create content for. Why couldn’t I do it? Why couldn’t I find happiness in something that once was my reason for happiness?

In the end, I managed to write 15k in June. My former monthly word count used to be 30k. One could think this would turn into the end of my fic writing career, or the beginning of a longer hiatus, but I am stubborn and want to meet the expectations of the people who love my content, so I didn’t want to give up. I wanted to try. I wanted to be whoever I was before.

Funnily enough, the healing came in the shape of the most self-indulgent fic I have ever, ever written, a fic I like possessed began writing July the 1st 2021. It was nothing less than a freaking fairy tale AU, namely a Shikadai x Inojin Peter Pan AU. I can hear you laugh at the silliness of it, but this whimsical AU gave me back my love for writing. I hyper-fixated on this story quite a bit and stopped writing on everything else, something I almost never do.

Only happy boys fly ended up being 21 000 words long! I knew it was a niched story, and true to my guesses, the story has to this day very low stats. Today, two months after it was published, it has just above 100 hits and 10 kudos, so for all I know, only ten people read and liked it. I try to not care too much, since I love the story and in some way, that story saved me from going batshit insane over my emotions about writing.

At this point I had begun writing my fic from the Ino-Shika-Cho zine, finding joy in silly scenes with my favourite characters and trying to heal. The writing process was frustratingly slow, but one word at a time I got forward and as of today, the draft is done. The pre-orders are in December. At the side of the zine fic I wrote a short fluffy Shikajin story, CLEAR, a story with almost no plot, because I knew how much self-indulgence could help me.

And then, I finally began writing for real on my emo au, A gang of fallen stars, which has the first few chapters up right now! I have for the first time in six months a longer fic (if we don’t count the Peter Pan story) and it feels… good. This fic is once again a modern au, but in darker tones than my other modern au from November 2020. I honestly like what I have so far, even if I during June and July almost planned to never finish it. I am so relieved I managed to begin the upload. In September the Photo Album was released and I could show my two fics I wrote for it.

It sounds like this year has been nothing but misery, and at times it felt like it. However, there are a few fandom friends who brought light to my life when I couldn’t see it. The first ones to mention are of course my partners in crime, @notquitejiraiya and @thespookymoth. Together we created a server dedicated to Ino-Shika-Cho during the spring and it has been tons of fun with the members there! Thank you two for listening to me and for being my friends during 2021.

I also have to mention Soverel, who carefully begun taking contact through comments and likes on my twitter, and later through direct messages, and it has been a fun ride ever since. We’ve had lovely discussions which are very dear to me and your support means a lot to me. Thank you for being you and for drawing so many wonderful artworks you’ve shared with me. Haha, and for making me play Genshin Impact, even though I do it like twice a month!

Another person who has made my days so much brighter is @sugarriene. Thank you for sending me that one dm that made us chat regularly, thank you for popping up and sharing panels and your wonderful drawings with me, and for vibing head canons with me. You are a lovely person, and you make me happy.

Finally, I want to give a shout out to @yoboseyokyu for listening to me when I had to yell into the void and for making me happy with your cute posts on both twitter and tumblr.

Since September 2020, I’ve written around 195 000 words and drawn close to 35 illustrations, most of them of Shikadai and Inojin. Almost 200 000 words of Majsasaurus. I’ve created a Discord server and I’ve been part of two zines as a writer, plus a free PDF-project.

It has been a wild year. A year filled with passion for my favourite characters and ship, with the excitement that came with being part of projects and hyping them. It was a year where I learned to draw digitally, and heck what fun it was.

This also a year where I learned people can be mean to me because of what I ship and that fandom friends won’t necessarily always stay to be your friend anymore and how much it can hurt. I also learned what my limits are, and what punishment I get if I don’t listen to my own mind and rest when I have to.

It was a year, guys.

Now, onto the third Majsasaurus Year. Cheers!

And those of you, who supported me when I needed it – thank you and I love you.

#majsasaurus

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