#also at the time of me typing this I have 49 fics listed on here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imabeautifulbutterfly · 1 month

Note

Congratulations for the 450 followers ! You deserves it ! Have one more ❤️

Can I request a 5 and 13 for the fic roulette ? With Mayday , please 👌

Hello my lovely, @griffedeloup

I loved having Mayday to work with; I tried a different approach for this one. I hope you enjoy it. I look forward to writing more for this lovely man.

Love oo,

Italics - Comms

Encrypted Communication

Warning: Mixed communications, insults, curse words, I think that's it, let me know if I miss any.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

{03:24 - Encrypted communication} - Looking for your report cadet, why isn’t it on my desk?

{03:27 - Encrypted communication} - Cadet, I’m not going to ask again! Report better be on my desk in the next five minutes or I’ll have you running 50 laps before breakfast!

You groaned as your comm beeped frantically, you grabbed to look at the messages you were receiving. Groaning in annoyance.

{03:35} To whoever typed in the wrong karking number - I’m not your cadet. So shut up!

{03:36 - Encrypted communication} - Do you think this is funny, cadet? Also why isn’t your communicator encrypted?

You blinked at the message.

{03:37} I’m sure this is more than what you were expecting, but do me a favour, jackass, and look at the number you’re typing!

{03:38 - Encrypted communication} … // … // … I apologize for the late comm messages. It was unintentional. Apparently my cadet thought it would be funny to change one number on the number I have saved under his name on my communicator. I will definitely make sure to exact punishment on the cadet.

You couldn’t help smirk at the message, feeling sorry for the cadet but also pretty impressed he was about to get a hold of his commander’s comm device.

{03:39} No worries. Although I hope you don’t kill your cadet. If you don’t mind my asking, how did he get a hold of your comm?

{03:40 - Encrypted communication} More than likely while I was taking a shower. I do apologize for the inconvenience.

{03:41} That’s okay. You smirked. Tell me, you really gonna make your cadet run 50 laps?

{03:43 - Encrypted communication} I do believe the punishment should fit the crime although I may make him run 75.

{03:44} Okay, I feel bad for him … I’m assuming it’s a him? Could be a her?

{03:45 - Encrypted communication} It’s a him.

{03:46} So I’m assuming you can’t sleep

{03:46} - Encrypted communication} Can’t sleep?

{03:47} Well you’re up and texting someone at 3 in the morning. Actually for the past 20 minutes give or take, so either you’re living somewhere that’s in a different time zone or … you can’t sleep and feel the need to torture those who are beneath you.

As you sent the message you regretted the innuendo that it sounded like.

{03:48} Okay, that wasn’t meant to sound like it did.

{03:48 - Encrypted communication} Hahaha, but you’re right. On both fronts.

{03:49} Oh really! LOL. That’s interesting to know. By the way, what’s your name?

And that weird three a.m., conversation was the beginnings of your friendship with Mayday, now almost six months later, you two were exchanging messages like there was no tomorrow, and in fairness for a man who was somewhere in the galaxy, somewhere possibly fighting for his life the least you could was answer his messages.

{12:40 - Encrypted communication} Good afternoon, mesh’la. You won’t believe the osik storm I’ve had to deal with today.

{12:41 - Encrypted communication} Hey handsome, what happened?

{12:42 - Encrypted communication} I’m getting transferred

{12:43 - Encrypted communication} What??? Why??

{12:44 - Encrypted communication} Redeployment of assets. On the plus side I’ll be on Coruscant for the month before I have to get sent to my new station.

{12:45 - Encrypted communication} You’re coming here! Whoa! I wasn’t ready for that.

{12:46 - Encrypted communication} I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it

{12:47 - Encrypted communication} Are you crazy? Of course you should’ve! I just never … I just never thought we’d actually meet in person. I mean yes, you walked me through encrypting my comm, and when I asked for a picture you sent me a picture of your helmet, which hahaha very funny by the way. But now, you’ll be here… on the same planet. With me. That’s … I’m beyond excited! Sorry that seems a bit much.

{12:49 - Encrypted communication} LOL no at all, mesh’la. I’m excited to meet you too. I’ll be arriving in two days. Maybe I can meet you at the cafe you talked about last time.

{12:50 - Encrypted communication} Alright, I’ll meet at Snow Capped Cafe. What time works for you?

{12:51 - Encrypted communication} I’ll be arriving on Coruscant, hopefully around 1300 hours. So after my debrief I should … hopefully, be available by 1930.

{12:52 - Encrypted communication} I’m taking a shot and say that’s 7:30 p.m.?

{12:53 - Encrypted communication} Hahaha, yes mesh’la. 730 p.m. You know we went over military time a while back, you should know that.

{12:54 - Encrypted communication} I know! I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.

{12:55 - Encrypted communication} You don’t have to do anything mesh’la. You just have to do you. I look forward to seeing you, and finally meeting you in person. I’ve looked at your picture enough to memorize what you look like, I’ll find you.

{12:56 - Encrypted communication} Can’t wait, Mayday. See you in two days.

Those two days went by faster than you expected, you sat in the cafe, staring at your cup of tea. You’d bought Mayday’s cup of coffee. Your stomach felt as though it had butterflies tied into knots being tossed about on a stormy sea. You wanted to throw up, run to the bathroom, and take a nap all at the same time.

Mayday rushed to get to the cafe, the last thing he wanted to be was late, simply because one karking officer didn’t know when enough was enough and needed to shut up. Thankfully, it wasn’t far to the cafe, he came to a halt just before the cafe. He closed his eyes and took a breath. He looked in and saw you sitting at a table in the corner. You looked more beautiful than you had in your picture.

Suddenly, the idea of actually talking to you face-to-face seemed like a really bad idea. That was until he saw your message.

{19:32 - Encrypted communication} Hey don’t want to make it feel like I'm pushing, just wondering if your debriefing is running late?

He couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face the moment he read your message. He took in a deep breath and walked in, heading straight to you with a smile on his face.

“Mesh’la?”

You looked up from your comm and smiled at him, standing up, “Mayday?”

“Hi” he smiled, brimming from ear to ear. It was awkward for a second before you both mutually decided without speaking to hug each other. “It’s so good to finally meet you, mesh’la.”

“You too!” You breathed in his scent, trying to remember the woodsy, peppermint, coffee, gun oil smell that seemed to be his. Somehow that scent made all your knots, butterflies, and raging storms calm down. In his arms you felt at home, at peace.

You both pulled back to look at each other, smiling. “How was your flight back?”

“Hellish, boring, but I made it.” He smirked.

You motioned for him to sit down, “Do you want something to eat or drink?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Please, my treat!”

He smiled and nodded, “In that case, surprise me.”

Surprise him you did, with a sandwich that was filled with grease, cheese, some sort of meat, and a sauce that was to die for, along with a pecan pie slice, and a mochaccino that had whipped cream, with chocolate shavings. You walked over with the number for your order and placed it on the table, smiling as you sat in front of him.

“Thanks for making this a possibility,” you smiled chewing on your lower lip.

“C’mon, like I need an excuse to spend time with you. Not my mesh’la, the one who came up with the most effective way to torture someone.”

You started laughing, “All I said was it would suck if they had to run without their flight suits in cold weather. You’re the one who went all out with it being the perfect punishment for anyone who didn’t turn in their reports.”

“And you know I’ve been getting everyone’s report on the dot, thanks to your genius.” He chuckled as he looked at you. His eyes widened when the waitress brought over the food and placed the mochaccino, “Wow, when I told you to surprise me, you really surprised me.”

“Well I got some stuff that I thought you might like and the best hot sauce around.” you pulled out your secret hot sauce from your bag and placed it on the table, “You said you liked sweet and spicy. So I got you pecan pie and a mochaccino with whipped cream, and the most greasy yet delicious sandwich imaginable.”

Mayday reached over and held your hand, stroking your knuckles with the back of his thumb, “Just when I thought you couldn’t possibly be any more perfect.”

You felt your face flush as you looked at him, “And just when I thought you couldn’t get any smoother with your lines. Where are you getting transferred to?”

“Barton IV”

“Barton IV, where’s that?”

“Somewhere that doesn’t mean a whole hell of a lot to the Empire.”

“Then why go?”

“Because that’s what a clone Commander is supposed to do.”

“Just be safe, when you do go. So you’re here for a month… so much to plan and do.” You smile as you look at him. “Is this your first time to Coruscant?”

“I’ve been here a number of times, don’t worry. I know my way around, but I’d still like to see what you have planned.” He smirked as he looked at you.

“Hmmm so many options. Well have you been to 79’s?”

“Of course.”

“Great! Than you can take me! We have to build up these memories before you leave.”

“Don’t worry, mesh’la, even without memories, I’ll still be the best pen pal, you could’ve hoped for.”

You nodded as you glanced down to the pecan pie, chewing the inside of your cheek, “Is that … what we are, pen pals?”

Mayday squeezed your hand, “I thought we were friends, I hoped really good friends.”

You lifted your eyes half way, “What if … we tried for more than that?”

“Then you would’ve made this Commander the happiest Commander in the Imperial Army.”

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

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yessa-vie · 7 months

Text

fic recs list (on going) ❣

→ IMPORTANT. the list is divided between completed (P. 01 || P. 02) and on going, most of them are Stray Kids because there's a considerable amount of those and most of them are smau.

→ TBR LIST ❣

→ LAST UPDATE. 15.01.2024 (dd/mm/yyyy)

LIST BELLOW THE CUT!

→ SYMBOLS. [♥] favorites || [⌨] smau || [✎] written || [✉] smau with written parts || [★] MDNI (reader's discretion is advised, sensitive and suggestive topics, not only smut) || [❄] new ones ||

ON GOING ❣

→ HELLO STRANGER. (@tasteleeknow) [♥][★][❄][✎]

- Lee Minho. - soulmate au! stranegrs to enemies to lovers. the story is basically: "you are gonna suffer, but you'll feel happy about it" because this story is just THAT GOOD. - 09 chapters. - i'm so mad at myself by the fact that I JUST REALIZED I DIDN'T PUT THIS MASTERPIECE IN HERE! also, when i started reading it, had been a while since it had been updated and i was so sad about it bc i thought it had been abandonned, but then i recently saw it being back into posting so i just binge read it all over again and i fell in love with this story like it was the first time. it's just so beautifully written and how she portraits the different types of love and the friendship between reader and hyunjin is so wholesome, and let's not forget hyunjin and minho's one! i think this is a must read type of story, it's just incredible on so many levels i can't even begin to fully explain it unless you read it!

→ TRESURE. (@cybrsan) [♥][❄][✎]

- Jung Wooyoung. - ATLA au! enemies to lovers. cliffhanging after pretty much every chapter, but I love it regardless. eventual smut, but none so far. - 06 chapters. - ik ik, shocker another universe au and i'm already in love and dreading to every update! i think by now i'm pretty easy to figure it out, but honestly, Michi did such an amazing job and she's such a good writer that its just IMPOSSIBLE not to read her work and love every single one, but this on tho, she really out did herself and I'm dreading for another update everytime I remember is still on going, but I promise is worth it!

→ GROWING PAINS. (@roomsofangel) [❄][✎][★]

- Choi San. - grumpy x sunshine. strangers to lovers. opposite attract. - 04 chapters.

→ JUST LOOK AT ME. (@ppiri-bahng) [❄][★][⌨][♥]

- Hwang Hyunjin. - mature content. strangers to friends to lovers. camboy!. uni au. - 04 chapters.

→ CONNECTED. (@sky-yuna) [❄][✎][★][♥]

- OT8! Stray Kids. - 23 chapters.

→ NEVER HAVE I EVER. (@desayunho) [❄][✎][★][♥]

- OT8! Stray Kids. - mature content. please read the warnings before reading. - 04 chapters.

→ STAR LOST WITH YOU. (@hyunjinspark) [♥][★][✎]

- Hwang Hyunjin. - strangers to friends to lover. SLOW BURN!. idol verse!. mature content. - 18 chapters. - idk why it took me so long to start this, but i said it once and i'll say it again, i would literally read her grocery shopping and thank her for it, if this story ever turn into an actual book or tv show, it will LITERALLY explode (in a good way), this story is perfect on so many levels i don't even know where to start, just go read it, you won't regret it!

→ NEPO BABIES. (@ilovehimyourhonour) [♥][✉]

- Yang Jeongin. - smau with written parts. rich kids au. idiots in love. - 15 chapters + lots of bonus chapters. - by far one of the two best Yang Jeongin fanfic I've read so far, i'm seriously in love with Jeongin and reader in this story and already suffering to what's to come.

→ WRITTEN IN THE STARS. (@lovestay-channie) [♥][⌨]

- Bang Chan. - smau. modern harry potter au. enemies? rivals? to lovers. - 05 chapters.

→ SYSTEM ERROR. (@moanz111) [♥][✉]

- Choi San. - smau with written parts. uni smau. rivals? enemies? to lovers. - hiatus? - 17 chapters.

→ WAITING FOR US. (@kkami-writes) [♥][★][✉]

- OT8! Stray Kids. - smau with written parts. themes that may be triggering to some readers. soulmate au. - 49 chapters. - this is SERIOUSLY incredible work as well, Kaia is honestly like taking such complex story line and putting in such a beautiful and thoughtful way i have no words, and i literally fell in love with this story so so much!

→ INCEPTION. (@remedyx) [♥][★][✎]

- OT8! Ateez. - fantasy. mature content. soulmate au. - 37 chapters + bonus. - oh god, where do i even start with this one? like, i knew i could find an ateez fic as incredible as most of the stray kids one that i've seen, but this one... i was shocked to say the least in the best way possible. if you like fantasy, worldbuilding, romance, angst, slow burn, this is literally for you, this story is just >>>>>>.

→ ENCHANTED TO MEET YOU. (@f9clementine) [✉]

- Lee Minho. - smau with written parts. strangers to friends to lovers. magic au. - 23 chapters. - the cliffhanging that this story gives... that's all i'm gonna say, bc i'm way too eager to find out how it turns out and it's sooooooo good how she developed the relationship btw Minho and the reader, i'm sat waiting for the next chapters.

→ INSTEAD OF YOU. (@sluttywonwoo) [♥][★][✎]

- Lee Minho. - strangers to friends to lovers. best friend's brother. mature content. - 35 chapters. - THIS. FUCKING. STORY. I LIVE FOR THIS! like it's so fucking good in so many ways that i can't even begin to describe, just do yourself a favor and go read it.

→ I SAW YOU IN A DREAM. (@forgottenfourr) [✉]

- Yang Jeongin. - smau with written parts. soulmate au. uni au. idiots in love. strangers to friends to lovers. - 38 chapters.

→ CATS GOT YOUR TONGUE. (@tr0p1cal) [♥][✉]

- Lee Minho. - smau with written parts. mature themes?. strangers to friends to lovers. idiots in love?. - 16 chapters.

→ CHIT CHAT. (@gyuworm) [✉]

- Hwang Hyunjin. - 11 chapters (on hiatus).

→ HOME MADE DYNAMITE. (@mangiverse) [⌨]

- ?? ATZ. - 06 chapters.

→ MAMA MIA. (@mars101) [⌨]

- TBZ Bermuda Line. - 24 chapters.

→ WORD OF YOUR BODY. (@dvbkie099) [★][✉]

- Lee Minho. - 17 chapters.

→ THE END ZONE. (@collisvng) [⌨]

- Seo Changbin. - 01 chapter.

→ LIQUOR LIPS. (@maeleelee) [♥][★][⌨]

- Lee Minho. - 18 chapters.

#fic recs #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic recs #stray kids #stray kids recs #stray kids fanfic #kpop fic recs #tbz recs #yv.recs

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deadhumourist · 1 year

Text

I posted 1,186 times in 2022

That's 892 more posts than 2021!

82 posts created (7%)

1,104 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@oonajaeadira

@sirowsky

@just-here-for-the-moment

@katareyoudrilling

@quica-quica-quica

I tagged 1,055 of my posts in 2022

Only 11% of my posts had no tags

#comment reblog - 109 posts

#pedro pascal fanfiction - 96 posts

#pedro pascal - 78 posts

#dieter bravo - 65 posts

#frankie morales x reader - 49 posts

#din djarin x reader - 46 posts

#din djarin - 46 posts

#frankie morales x f!reader - 42 posts

#pedro pascal fics - 40 posts

#dieter bravo x reader - 35 posts

Longest Tag: 110 characters

#also for some reason her looking down and seeing the closeness of their shoes waa weirdly intimate and how idk

My Top Posts in 2022:

Mistletoe and Beskar

Pairing: Modern!Din Djarin x F!Reader. Mechanic AU.

Rating: M for the series, minors shoo.

Warnings: Female reader, use of “she” pronoun. Reader has no physical description, but general mention of “curves.” We're here for a good time, not a canon-compliant time - watch me take massive liberties with Mandalorian lore. Well-worn and loved tropes ahoy. Helmet off.

A/N: This was a Christmas drabble I reworked into a proper story. A big thank you to my darling @just-here-for-the-moment for reading it over and shouting at me.

Author Masterlist --

Din sat in the waiting room of the specialist auto repair shop, mindlessly scrolling his phone. Every article was Christmas this, Christmas that. If it hadn’t been for the kid, he would have just stayed at home and never paid attention to any of it. A little smile crept up his face at the thought of his son, who was visiting Aunt Peli for a few days before Christmas.

A few minutes into his scrolling, Greef Karga's face popped up on his screen, a FaceTime call ringing loudly in the quiet room. His heart sank as he realised that he knew what this was about.

He swiped and instantly the screen animated. “Mando! You’re a difficult man to track down.”

Din winced. He had not-so-subtly been avoiding this phone call, but he had to get it out of the way one way or another.

“I keep busy with the kid and catching up with other things.”

Greef chuckled. His booming voice seemed much louder than it needed to be in the quiet of the workshop.

“You haven’t RSVP’d to my invitation, my friend. You skipped last year’s function, I hope it’s not what you’re planning to do again.”

“You know why I skipped last year, Karga.”

There was a long beat before he spoke again.

“Is she going to be there?”

“Of course she is, she’s an old friend. If I had to uninvite every person who bats their eyelashes at a Mandalorian, my guest list would be empty."

Laughter thundered through the phone, Greef very amused with himself.

Din sighed.

“Alright. Let's get it over with. But I’m not staying late at the Christmas ball. Not my scene.”

“None of this is your scene, which is the point, my friend. I await your arrival with optimism.” And with that the call ended.

Din stared morosely into the middle distance. He needed to get out of this somehow.

He trundled into the workshop to see how far you were with the Razor Crest. He only trusted one person with his gunmetal grey Jaguar E-type and she was currently on her back underneath its chassis.

Your denim-clad legs stuck out underneath the car and as he stared at the shoelaces on your trainers, a thought subtly drifted into his mind like the snow outside. If he had someone there she would leave him alone. Even if it only discouraged her from sticking around too long, it would be worth it.

You were…nice. You talked to him sometimes. Despite only seeing you when the Crest was in need of some attention, he liked being around you.

There was a quiet, unassuming comfort about you that didn't require effort on his part. You didn’t fawn over him or expect anything of him, you were just you. Unbothered with his title, reputation or what you thought you knew about him.

He leaned against the front fender, crossing his arms across his broad frame.

You heard the warm baritone, revealing little emotion as usual, bouncing off the cold concrete.

“How long?”

The mechanics creeper shot out from under the car and your face came into view, a firm scowl in place. Clever hands with grime stuck in the cuticles came up to cup the air, and an uneven oil dab was streaked across your cheek, making you look grubbier than usual.

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119 notes - Posted August 2, 2022

Rescue

Summary: Oberyn brings back what belongs to him. Little comfort ficlet.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell X GN!Reader

Warnings: Mention of violence and discomfort, use of "little one" as nickname, no pronouns used, no physical description of reader.

A/N: This is a little dip into writing a new character so it won't be perfect. Oberyn is almost always associated with seggsy times so I thought it could be interesting to put him in a protector role. Microficlet - around 650 words . Thank you @just-here-for-the-moment for the read.

Masterlist

-----

You wake up. The ground is hard and compacted and it takes time to get upright, your elbows digging without much give into the soil below. A chill has sunk deep into your flesh, many hours of exposure making you icy to the touch.

Grey light floods straight down like a dull halo on a dirty, fallen deity. It burns your newly opened eyes anyway. Vision suddenly swimming again, you lie back down and get folded into the darkness.

Until a warm hand grips your wrist and you feel your body lift.

When you wake up again, the first sensation that drags through the thick cloud of your mind is softness. Warm, brushed fleece against your skin and the comforting weight of arms wrapped firmly around you. You’re securely nestled against a broad chest when your eyes flicker open, the muted yellow silk almost covering your field of vision. Worry makes the brown eyes looking down at you inky.

He sees you draw breath to speak and he reaches down and gently cups your cheek.

“Quiet, little one. You are safe.”

And then, looking up, the words seething from his lips like smoke as he focuses on the middle distance.

“They can never hurt you again.”

You’re too tired to ask, but your eyebrows lift to him.

He looks down at you like he’s considering staying silent.

“A poison-laced dagger has pierced each hand that was laid upon you. Nailed to the trees they will wait for death - I am not merciful to those who take from me.”

You shudder in his arms. His eyes soften as they meet yours again.

“I wish you were not a witness to the cruelty of this world, my love.”

He presses you closer to him, feeling a sense of peace for the first time in the week since you disappeared.

"We are a day away from Dorne, and I will make sure that pleasure and comfort wipes away every trace of fear once we are back. That is a promise."

You drift away to the feeling of the slow rise and fall of Oberyn's chest under your cheek. You're safe.

163 notes - Posted December 4, 2022

Real Sugar

A/N: So this one has been stewing for a while. It's completely self-indulgent and built around things I love irl. A huge thank you to @just-here-for-the-moment who kindly read a first draft of this - without her encouragement I probably wouldn't have worked on it again. Not beta'd mistakes are mine.

Rating: M - brief mention of smut in this but will get much spicier in subsequent parts.

Characters: Frankie Morales x f!reader - Chef AU

Warnings (let me know if I missed any): In-depth descriptions of food, cooking and feeding. Cursing, some flirting, R-rated things. Mention of receiving a noogie and reader not wanting their hair messed up.

You smoothed your Henley down and peered out of your kitchen window. It really was a perfect day to make something different. Not a cloud in sight, and sunlight was streaming in the large bay windows, bathing the counter in a soft glow.

Even though you were excited to get started, you carefully placed all your utensils out one by one, a ritual you learnt in culinary school that just became habit. Only once you had your own kitchen, your items became a little less..utilitarian. Your pastel green mixing bowl and measuring spoons stood to the side, and you ticked off the necessary items in a neat little mise en place.

You reveled in the quiet moments before you started a new dish. Taking a deep breath. It was a quiet moment with a blank canvas before it exploded in colour, and this anticipation before letting go was cathartic in a way.

You were not an expert baker, preferring to spend your time on the savoury side of the spectrum. Now that you had everything set up, you were missing one more thing.

Ah, yes.

You reached over and turned up your stereo. When you were used to the chaos and cacophony of a professional kitchen the quiet was disquieting in its own way. With this in the background, you could avoid thinking and just focus on what was in front of you.

I know you wanted me to stay

But I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA

And I heard that there's a special place

Where boys and girls can all be queens every single day

I'm having wicked dreams

Of leaving Tennessee

Oh, Santa Monica

I swear it's calling me

As you got into the song and your stand mixer whirred to life, you spun in the kitchen, holding the wooden spoon up like a mic, singing along loudly and tunelessly.

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

For a brief second you considered whether to take your pants off and attempt a slide into the kitchen like Tom Cruise in Risky Business. You decided against it as you heard the oven ding.

It pulled you back into your kitchen and the deliciously sweet mixture waiting to be baked.

You were excited as the cake came together bit by bit. Your best friend Hannah was celebrating her birthday so you were heading over to her house later. She was hosting what sounded like the party of the century and you volunteered to bring something sweet. You slipped the cake into the oven and turned back to the counter. Eyeing the box in the corner, you couldn’t help but feel a little smug.

A Captain Crunch cake for your friend’s 30th was going to be a hit.

At 5pm you knocked.

“Baby Cakes! You missed the unicorn tequila shot round! ” Hannah squealed as she opened the door further and grabbed your arm to reel you in.

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169 notes - Posted February 27, 2022

Bravo Juliett

A/N: Since the trailer for The Bubble dropped, we've been reduced to thirsty (gender-neutral) bitches, and there are some good fics out. Dfinitely check out Please by @ezrasbirdie , Extra Whipped Cream by @pettyprocrastination and Stay by @honestly-shite. And like clowns we're all using the same fucking gifs because this character ain't even on screen yet. All three fics are brilliant, please go read and shout at them about how good it is.

This fic definitely borders on a crack fic, he’s not a fully rounded character and the action is smutty and with tongue very firmly in cheek. And other places. It’s satire if you squint. I am both amused and deeply ashamed. If I’m going to horny jail, I’m taking you with me. Not beta’d, mistakes mine.

Rating: 18+, no minors

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (fuck, I know ok. I KNOW)

If you want more ficlets in this universe please come shout at me. This was so much fun to write.

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

You're one person in a long line of interviewers. They're ushering you into the hotel like cattle, but honestly, you would gladly queue for days to meet him. You spent way too many hours engrossed in Dieter's work, rewatching scenes. You can quote most of his iconic lines. You didn't even have to do research prior to this interview. Dieter. Mentally you’re on a first name basis with him. You have lost yourself in his work, and you want him to know that.

The hotel lounge is a large, airy space, the Rococo decor offering glints of gold as it catches the morning sunlight. Most interviewers are sprawled across couches and chairs, with one pacing nervously and reviewing his notes, repeating it back to himself.

You know your shit, so you opt to spend your time doom-scrolling through Tumblr looking for Dieter fics. Commented on two; reblogged one that was particularly hot. What you wouldn’t give for him to go down on you like that, worship your body for hours and call you his sweet girl.

It feels like the day is dragging interminably, when a PR assistant beckons you. You have 10 minutes.

By this time the sun is dipping low on the horizon and it’s many many hours into his media schedule.

You make your way to the veranda and as you sit down, you can see the day wearing on him. Even though he’s incredibly handsome, he looks every inch the middle aged, harried acting veteran tolerating yet another interview by some clueless twit asking irrelevant questions.

He looks bored. Irritated. His eyes screaming “A moment of respite please.” as you smile at him in greeting.

"So Dieter, tell me a bit about your character in Cliff Beasts 6"

He rubs his neck and sighs deeply, mustering the energy from somewhere to give a terribly rote description of the character.

You listen intently, waiting for the right time to drop your bombshell.

"You have an unrivaled command of physicality, seen in so few actors. You manage to convey the entire character's personality without a single line of dialogue, like in Death Games. Will we see more of that in this movie?"

Dieter sits up, attention suddenly focused on you. You can see that you’ve surprised him, and you're silently reveling in that he might start to enjoy this interview. He rolls his tongue in his cheek, like he's contemplating something.

“You did your research.”

His full eyebrows quirk upwards, almost as if impressed.

“ With Death Games, the director, Joel, trusted me to go beyond the page and really create Jackson from the ground up and make him real. This….”

He breaks your gaze to look over the horizon, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

…is not that kind of movie."

The PR assistant on the side motions for you to wrap it up, your slot is almost done. As you thank him for his time, he leans over and whispers in his assistant's ear, winking at you. You can't make out what he's saying but you feel a blush creeping up your neck at the brazen gesture. He’s doing this in front of everyone.

You shake his hand. A warm, large palm that almost completely envelops yours. He has a firm grip and for a split second you imagine it wrapped around your throat, as he caresses you with just enough pressure to make your pussy clench and your breath hitch.

As you walk out of the room, his assistant pulls you to the side by your arm."Mr Bravo wants you to wait in the lounge area."

You swallow nervously at the strange request."Uhm, okay…how long?"

"Until he's done with interviews"

You nod slowly, not sure if you understand, but make your way to the plush lounge at the centre of the hotel.

See the full post

188 notes - Posted March 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Emptiness

Summary: Soft Dom Dave spends a little time with you.

Pairing: Dave York X f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Dom/sub dynamics, established relationship, Soft!Dom, Sub reader, Smacking, PiV sex, anal toys, no physical description of reader.

A/N: This was a 250-word ficlet that ran away with me. Beta by the lovely @just-here-for-the-moment

Author Masterlist

-------

Dave’s voice lowers to barely a whisper, and he slowly strolls towards the desk, shoulders squared like a predator whose prey has given up the chase.

He trails a cold hand along the inside of your thigh, raising goosebumps in its wake. Long, clever fingers tap the heel of the anal plug and you jump from the sudden touch. The blindfold digs into the corner of your eyes as you wince.

“This stays in, hmm. You’re going to be my good girl.”

A sharp thrill chases down your spine, straight and tense on the desk. Waiting. You feel those same fingers close to your pulsing heat.

Then his flat palm thwacks down on your pussy, a sharp twinge of pleasure pulls a whimper from you. The obscene, wet slap sounds loud in the quiet of the room and you hear the smile in Dave’s gravelly voice.

“Can’t wait, can you? So needy.”

The last syllable is punctuated with another sharp slap, followed by a soft, luxurious rub of his open palm on your heated sex. You feel your folds glide against his large hand, and you squirm at the temperature difference and obscenity of it as his hand leaves again.

Minutes tick by.

Loudly.

Slowly.

His large, blunt cock head slides from your clit down to your entrance and up again, the slow drag of the hot flesh against yours delicious but not enough. He does it again. You feel him twitch against you.

“Does my good girl need me to empty her head?”

You nod into the darkness. Agreement and submission bob your head of their own accord.

The next moment, Dave sinks into you in one smooth thrust, his large hands curled around your hips to make sure he fills you completely. Without warning, your pussy convulses around him, the sudden thrust and the plug lighting your nerve endings like fire. He wraps your legs around him, enveloping himself into you.

You cry out helplessly. Dave reaches forward and gently cradles the back of your neck in his hand as he thrusts, working you through your first orgasm. As it subsides, he starts thrusting in earnest, the hand that was on your hip migrating to your clit.

He always knows how to work you just right.

In the dark behind your eyelids you thrash as the sensation starts becoming overwhelming.

“Let me have it. I want it.” he commands.

The hand that gently held your neck slides to the front and his fingers close around your throat. Gentle pressure makes your head swim pleasantly.

Your breath stutters. Your mind is empty and the only thing you know in the darkness is Dave’s cock driving into over and over and over.

When he knows you’re close, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your sternum.

“Give it to me, my good girl.”

See the full post

228 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

4 notes · View notes

mazegays · 1 year

Text

I posted 445 times in 2022

That's 42 more posts than 2021!

21 posts created (5%)

424 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@its-tea-time-darling

@thominho-incorrectquotes

@highgaydrama

@un-ah

@thomallyweek

I tagged 422 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#remember that i love queue - 135 posts

#thominho - 78 posts

#thomas - 49 posts

#tea - 37 posts

#minho - 36 posts

#thomally - 29 posts

#thomallyweek2022 - 18 posts

#nalby - 18 posts

#newt - 17 posts

#gifs - 16 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#while it's evolved over the years the basis of the theory still comes from 14yo me there is definitely room for improvement discussion etc

My Top Posts in 2022:

BTW if anyone has questions about my wips (the whumpy slowburn Thominally fic and the empath Thomas fic... that's what's actually typed up. for now) or questions about like. most other things too feel free to send them! I love getting asks and talking about fics lol

9 notes - Posted May 11, 2022

@its-tea-time-darling

List five things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last ten people who reblogged something from you. Spread the positivity ✨💛🌻

okay like I have way more than five things so I'm going fandom-specific here lol

--writing collective headcanons/bouncing around ideas with my moots

--adding onto @thominho-incorrectquotes posts either in the tags or on the post itself

--literally anything that portrays Thomas as the 'gifted kid' he is: smart as all get-out with no social skills (also. adhd Thomas. bc I am adhd and so are all my fav characters. minho? gally? sonya? harriet? you bet!)

--the people on ao3 who pop up every once in a while as having kudos all of my tmr fics (even if they don't leave comments it's appreciated)

--when people come yell at me about my fics, whether here or ao3 idc just!! yell ur appreciation at me it is appreciated

10 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

@its-tea-time-darling

because this 40k fic isn't getting any shorter and it's looking less and less like slowburn with each section

wtf you have a thominally wip what the fuckwhatthefuckwhathesjxbhshdsjxbdbbsdbbd

yep! it started as a way to hit as many thomally week prompts as I could in one fic, and has expanded greatly since, leading into thominally. no idea when it'll be anywhere near done, because it's not now!

11 notes - Posted May 17, 2022

@its-tea-time-darling

i may or may not have started on thominho week writing

yes!!! this is great news!!! i have not started on this year's yet but i literally just finished 2020's like 10 minutes ago so that counts for something right?

13 notes - Posted May 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

@monkey-d-momo

I wanted to know what you liked so much about my empath Thomas headcanon and if you're gonna publish your fic soon (no pressure or course, but like you, I really like this headcanon and I need more of it haha) Love you!

-thominho-incorrectquotes

okay, so you know when you read a prompt or smth and immediately have Ideas™️? That's what happened. I read your headcanons and was like: I need 500 fics about this immediately, and I have Ideas for one so I will write it myself.

Also, it's a different take on Thomas’s character, especially because we all see him as oblivious to, well, everything. Empath Thomas can be oblivious, but it has to be done differently, because he knows what people are feeling--he feels it himself. So maybe he doesn't trust his own emotions now, because while sometimes it's easy to tell that it's not his, he can’t always do that. Especially when they're very similar to what he's feeling. Hence Thomas sticking with logic and objectivity when he can, when he has time to think things through. He ignores everything he feels because he doesn't know what's his.

(This is not a good idea, Thomas.) He also doesn't talk to anyone about this in true Thomas fashion of questioning everything that's not personal, so as far as he knows, it's normal.

Minho eventually figures out that Thomas never seems to respond emotionally to anything, and they're a bunch of teenage boys stuck in a Maze. Like, emotional outbursts aren't super common but he’s never met someone who just... doesn't respond to anything. Ben's attack? Yeah, Thomas was scared, but then Ben was probably scared too (Thomas knows the anger didn't come from him.) So he hides his reactions as best he can and pretends they don't exist.

Minho figures out that Thomas can feel everything, and has no defense against it, when something happens to Thomas and Thomas, mostly out of it, tells Minho to stop worrying because it hurts.

(Thomas does not remember this, but part of the reason he sticks to the Deadheads to sleep here is because some of the Gladers have nightmares, which equals strong emotion, which overwhelms him and causes him physical pain.)

And so Minho starts trying to figure out how Thomas can block or mute others' emotions and help him trust his own again, but it’s a slow process, and then the Scorch happens and Denver happens and they don’t have time, and it turns out that Thomas has just been shoving everything behind mental shields and it's too much one day and well... that's definitely not a good thing.

This got a little long! I kind of focused on the whumpier side here but there is fluff that goes with it (and a definite happy ending).

As for the fic, the above is kind of where I'm planning on taking the longer version. The shorter verison, which will only be Fever Code Era, involves Minho figuring it out on his own and working to help Thomas. Then he gets sent to the Maze, and of course later Thomas does as well, which means all progress is reset re: managing empathic abilities. That will hopefully be done sometime next week, but my work schedule is still up in the air so no promises.

Thanks so much for the ask, Momo! 💜 Really hope I do this justice.

19 notes - Posted May 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #my top post having. 19 notes : (

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giggles-and-freckles · 3 years

Text

my fic masterlist

decided to do this for my own sake more than anyone else’s because sometimes I have to make sure the idea I get at 3am isn’t one I’ve already written hehe. anyway, a lot of these are on my ao3, but I’m also going to try and track down some of my TuMbLr-eXcLuSiVe fics, too. I’ll update this as often as I remember (so, uhhh–)

In-Progress: Not On A Consistent Updating Schedule Bc Abi is a Mess ™

midst of the mind – Anakin has always had a pretty good understanding of his feelings, even if he's not particularly disciplined in acting on them. But things surrounding the Chancellor seem to be off and Anakin's determined to get to the bottom of it. With a little help from his friends.(or: fix-it ROTS fic where Ani, Obi, and Padmé take down the Chancellor one fake smile and late-night tea party at a time)

evermore – "dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found" within the lives of our favourite space fam. (or: TAYLOR SWIFT LITERALLY OWNS MY SOUL, OKAY?) (unrelated one-shots based on taylor swift songs ha)

filling the gaps – after the horror of Naboo, Obi-Wan has flipped from Padawan to having a Padawan in a matter of hours and he's not sure how much longer he can pretend like he's okay. thankfully, this one spunky youngling who keeps popping up in the corners of his life seems to know what to do. (or: baby!Soka unknowingly helps new Knight!Kenobi figure things out and braids his hair along the way)

Obi-Wan & Ahsoka: Best Father-Daughter Duo In The Galaxy According To Me (because let’s be honest...that’s why I’m here) (tagged: #obi & soka)

filling the gaps – *in-progress multi-chapter* after the horror of Naboo, Obi-Wan has flipped from Padawan to having a Padawan in a matter of hours and he's not sure how much longer he can pretend like he's okay. thankfully, this one spunky youngling who keeps popping up in the corners of his life seems to know what to do. (or: baby!Soka unknowingly helps new Knight!Kenobi figure things out and braids his hair along the way)

playing catch – Ahsoka finds an old friend on Tatooine and has lots of questions. they cry a lot. obi-wan tells some white lies. they get the hugs they need. (Obi-Wan & Ahsoka reunite on Tatooine)

all too young – during a bout of insomnia while on Onderon, Ahsoka gets some advice and insight about her Master. (or Obi-Wan hears Ahsoka laugh for the first time and they get to have a snuggle and he absolutely spends the entire next day training the rebels trying not to cry thinking about it every dang time he sees her.)

hologram heart-to-hearts – we see Obi-Wan and Ahsoka have a conversation via hologram in the final season of tcw, but what if there had been...more?(three-parter) (basically Obi and Soka keep in touch after she leaves the Order and there’s...a lot of emotions involved)

little love – a sort of follow-up to hologram heart-to hearts; Ahsoka sticks her nose into the wrong Alliance meeting and discovers a certain Jedi is alive and on Tatooine of all places, so she places a long-distance call.

bad days – Ahsoka tries to squeeze out of her Grand Master exactly what happened on Mortis. and, as always, Obi-Wan is powerless to deny her anything, no matter how painful that truth may be.

sleeping with monsters – Ahsoka is having a hard time sleeping after her time on Felucia, so Obi-Wan offers a solution.

chance meeting – Obi-Wan is up late researching for his Master in the archives when a certain sneeze–and pair of big blue eyes–catch his attention.

‘drooping eyelids’ prompt fill – Ahsoka and Obi-Wan have a conversation about attachment while Anakin’s missing. they (plus Anakin) get some platonic cuddles.

‘dancing’ prompt fill – they attend a senatorial gala without Anakin because he’s feeling grumpy grump after deception arc fall-out. Obi realises that there are still things to be thankful for.

sorrow – Ahsoka feels the full weight of loss as she clutches her Grand Master’s dead body. (deception arc FEELS!!!!)

‘I do not pretend to set people right, but I do see they are often wrong’ prompt fill – *trigger warning: death of children; Obi comforts Ahsoka after they witness an atrocity of the highest order.

the silence between — Ahsoka gets assigned to the 212th as her Master recovers. Unwanted quality time with her Grand Master doesn’t go as planned.

untitled ‘Obi & Ani role reversal au’ ficlet — Padawan Obi-Wan pays a visit to his best pal Ahsoka in the crèche.

‘falling asleep on each other’s shoulder’ prompt fill – the summary says it all. fluff!

'I don’t wanna die’ – Obi-Wan comforts Ahsoka in her pain. *tw: implied major character death

‘I made tea’ – Anakin is off-world so it’s up to Obi-Wan to take care of his sick grand-padawan.

sorry for the soup – post-deception arc. Ahsoka stops by Obi-Wan’s quarters to check-in.

Obi-Wan & Anakin: The Early Years (tagged: #obi & ani)

figuring it out – Anakin learns waking Obi-Wan up can sometimes be a good thing and Obi-Wan learns that maybe everything's going to be okay. (padawan!ani & new dad knight!kenobi)

if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more – Anakin overhears a conversation he wasn’t meant to hear and lashes out in response. lots of hurt is uncovered and Obi-Wan hears some hard truths from his Padawan. angst, angst, angst...but with a hug.

reading lessons – the team takes a trip to the archives to find some reading material. Anakin is adorably insecure.

cold – Obi-Wan and Anakin have their first solo mission, but in typical Kenobi & Skywalker fashion, it does not go as planned. Exasperated Obi-Wan and Won't-Shut-Up Anakin are put to the test by deep space and a completely out-of-fuel ship. (or some more fluff where padawan!ani and new knight!kenobi get to try and figure out how the heck this master-padawan thing WORKS. hint: it's not easy!)

playing hooky – angel baby Anakin breaks Obi-Wan's heart and it's not for the last time...womp wooooomp.

like you – sweet, angel baby Ani gives himself a haircut and Obi-Wan deals with the aftermath. (I’m copying and pasting most of these summaries directly from ao3 and cracking up because I called Anakin a sweet angel baby in two in a ROW hahah)

fun? – the Jedi Council gives Obi-Wan his newest orders as a young Jedi Knight and he struggles to understand them. he was instructed to take his new Padawan and...have...fun?

go away/please stay – Obi-Wan has been disappearing for solo missions more and more often and Anakin's starting to wonder if it's more than just on request of the Council. (or: can you say TEEN ANGST!)

‘forehead kisses’ prompt fill – Anakin stumbles upon his Master having quite the nightmare, so he handles it the way his mom always handled his own nightmares. with patience and affection.

unnamed NAP TIME fic – Obi-Wan gets home from a solo mission early to find his bed occupied.

‘sweets’ prompt fill – Anakin gets a little ambitious with his choco-ball indulgence.

‘fuzzy socks’ prompt fill – years after arriving at the Temple, Anakin still hasn’t quite adjusted to the cold. Obi-Wan gets him a gift to help. (really just an excuse for some obi ani banter)

‘snowball fight’ prompt fill – Anakin takes his boredom to the next level, much to his Master’s chagrin.

untitled Anakin sickfic bc I’m not feeling very creative right now – the team goes on a mission but Anakin gets sick. Obi-Wan is ultimate mother hen and Anakin makes an observation.

got germs – sickficlet where both of our best boys are sick.

you’re okay – just some classic protective parent!Obi-Wan and teenaged son!Anakin post disaster.

‘you lied to me’ – angstpril day 13. Anakin really wants to go to Ilum and make his lightsaber...but is met with disappointment.

random sickfic – because we all know Anakin is the most annoying sick person in the world.

don’t struggle – the ship is crashing, as usual. but this time, Anakin’s seatbelt is stuck. *tw: implied major character deaths

relic – sith!Obi au. *tw: major character death

aspectabund – Anakin’s eyes betray him and his Master.

Obi-Wan & Anakin: Brotp But Also Idiots Who Don’t Know How To Communicate (still tagged #obi & ani)

define ‘attachment’ – while the dads esteemed Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker wait for Ahsoka to wake up, they talk about attachment, worry, and that time Ani caused an accidental security breech at the Temple.

favourites – Obi-Wan has been tasked with telling Anakin of his special assignment to keep an eye on the Chancellor, but he gets sappy and sentimental in the process because these conversations are hard.

after all these years – Obi-Wan tries to talk to Anakin, but it doesn't go well. does this sound familiar OR WHAT? (post-decpetion arc angst)

brilliant – Anakin is having a difficult time adjusting to his new mechno-arm for one very specific reason. (the boys communicate properly in this one and even get a hug as a treat!)

sober words said aloud – Anakin's meeting with the Council is interrupted by his highly intoxicated–and wildly affectionate–Master. (crack fic turned fluff)

‘you’ve been crying, I can tell’ prompt fill – Anakin makes the mistake of checking in on his Master after a particularly grueling mission. it doesn’t go well. (or: Obi-Wan loses his sh!t)

going somewhere? – Obi-Wan catches Anakin on his way out for a midnight rendezvous with a certain Senator. Anakin makes a quick decision and chooses Obi-Wan. sweet words are exchanged on a sentimental walk.

shaking hands – in the immediate wake of Ahsoka’s departure form the order, Anakin...isn’t okay. Obi-Wan tries to do something about it. (post S5 angst)

untitled platonic tired cuddles/back scratching fic – Anakin resorts to an old tactic to make his Master rest.

sun shine on – Obi-Wan and Anakin take a little trip to Tatooine to visit Shmi’s grave. (post-ROTS fix-it au of sorts)

pushing it too far — Obi-Wan calls Anakin for some help when he takes ‘intel’ too seriously and ends up drunk on a street in lower-level Coruscant.

whump prompt fill – Obi-Wan looks after Anakin after a near-miss. They talk.

‘was it another premonition?’ – Obi-Wan dreams of Luke. He wakes up to Anakin.

post-mortis angst – Anakin remembers. *tw: implied suicidal thoughts

angstpril: ‘you have to let me go’ – Anakin and Obi-Wan are stuck in a pit. only one of them can make it out alive. *tw: implied major character death

role model – post-deception angst. Obi and Ani talk. it doesn’t go well.

here either way – conversations about mental health. *tw: panic attack

hiraeth – Obi-Wan walks alone. *post ROTS

Anakin & Ahsoka: Dream Team Sharing One Single Brain Cell (tagged: #snips & skyguy or (for the really angsty) #its crying about snips & skyguy hours)

that one person – (my first fic!) Anakin gets assigned to lecture a class of younglings, but he's not the only one who doesn't want to be there.or Ahsoka Tano is done with Jedi sh!t and tries to leave, but this time it's just a classroom and not the entire Order and there's a lot less tears and pain.

here and now – the Force has tried to swallow Ahsoka Tano three times. it's hard to be the last one standing. (or Ahsoka feels the death of three important men in her life and is tired of being left behind) *tw: major character deaths (canon compliant and not depicted, only mentioned)

whumptober: crying – Anakin comforts a distraught Ahsoka after her disaster mission over Ryloth.

reaching out – Anakin is always there...until he’s not. Ahsoka reflects on how different it is fighting and living without Anakin at her side. (angst)

help would come – Anakin and Ahsoka get stuck on an ice planet and things get dire. I chalked this full of parallels to the final conversation between Ani and Luke bc I love pain, I guess?

whump: ‘i’ve got you’ – Anakin pulls Ahsoka from a nightmare.

zen!Anakin ficlet — Ahsoka visits Anakin in his new job as Galaxy’s #1 Dad (well Plo Koon still exists so maybe #1.5?).

right as rain – Ahsoka insists she is fine when she is distinctly not.

snoozeville – Anakin and a few boys of the 501st find their Commander catching some extra z’s.

stitching up – Ahsoka performs some in-the-moment surgery for Anakin and he tries not to scream. *tw: field surgery

‘platonic spooning’ prompt fill – do I need a summary after that?

sad hours: dancing – Anakin and Ahsoka dance in the aftermath of tragedy.

rainy ending given to a perfect day – Anakin and Ahsoka take a trip into downtown Coruscant.

Anakin and Padmé: Abi Tries and fails To Write Romance (tagged: #anidala)

not enough – Anakin has a hard time with the Mortis fall-out. Padmé doesn’t know how to help someone who doesn’t want it. some painful connections between Ahsoka and Shmi are made. (angst, no happy ending, trouble in paradise)

I will not have this baby in a jail cell – some fluff, some crack, some Anakin-being-so-proud-of-his-badass-wife.

marcid – domestic fluff in which Padmé almost shoots him. ha. oops!

rubatosis – angsty anidala hours. Anakin can’t go to sleep.

Obi-Wan and Satine: Abi Tries and fails some more To Write Romance (tagged #obitine)

don’t go – Obi-Wan makes a choice. *year on the run timeline

that’s mine – some happiness AU obitine. waking up next to each other. laughing. all the sappy stuff.

accidental keldabe kiss – all the ridiculous tropes I love with our favourite pining idiots. it’s the ‘kiss me so they don’t see us!’ trope!!!! *year on the run timeline

you’re shaking – Satine knows Obi-Wan more than he’d like. *year on the run

Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Rex, Padmé: Space Found Family In Whatever Form It Comes

i want your midnights – the gang attends a New Year's banquet (read: party) and Padmé surprises them all with her midnight kiss.

flair for dramatics – when the gang gets their ship stranded on a desert planet, Anakin and Ahsoka get creative as they try to keep spirits up and minds off the sweltering heat. Obi-Wan questions his sanity. (crack fic turned fluff)

nothing a cup of tea can’t fix – when Anakin shows up to Obi-Wan's quarters in the middle of the night, the Jedi Master knows something has gone awry. answering Anakin's desperate cry for help, Obi-Wan is reminded of how very, very prone to dramatics his former Padawan and Grand Padawan are. (or: Ahsoka gets sick and Anakin flips his shit.) (sickfic)

in the sandstorm – when Tatooine's weather takes a turn for the worst, Ben Kenobi finds a young boy in need of shelter and some lessons on how wonderful his dad had been. (luke and obi-wan hurt/comfort)

remembering hurts – Rex and Ahsoka strive to survive on the snowy moon in the days after Order 66. tensions are high and emotions are volatile.

balter – disaster trio dances at a senatorial ball.

reunion – au where Anakin doesn’t completely turn to the dark side but everything up to and including Mustafar (except for the last like...five minutes) happens. Padmé has the twins, Obi-Wan is overwhelmed, Anakin is a mess. they’re happy...or at least, they will be soon.

‘cookies’ prompt fill – disaster trio makes cookies for the crechelings for Life Day. (just fluff and banter)

first ever codywan! – Cody does some bedside vigil for a hurt Obi-Wan. :’)

transponster – disaster trio is tired and delusional. Rex and Cody want Jedi to have some kriffing self-preservation.

one final salute — Obi-Wan and Cody get trapped. Obi-Wan’s luck is running out. (angst? angst.)

codywan whump – Cody saves Obi-Wan’s life. again. (more fluff than whump)

girls’ night – Ahsoka hangs out with her mom pal Padmé.

driving lessons – Obi-Wan and Anakin teach Ahsoka to drive. ha.

affectionate obi – the kids get Obi-Wan a puppy. fluff!

sorry I don’t speak idiot – Rex and Fives deal with a drunk Echo :’)

post deception disaster trio sadness – Ahsoka tries to keep Obi-Wan company in the aftermath of Rako Hardeen...but Anakin isn’t playing nice.

verklempt – Ahsoka and Yoda talk about being chosen. and Ahsoka finds out maybe she hasn’t been left behind afterall. *pre-TCW

apricity – disaster trio have a picnic at the temple! just pure fluff.

pyrrhic – codywan but make it angsty. some battles are won at too great a cost.

disaster trio sickfic – two Jedi dads and their (sick) daughter :’)

‘you’ve been here this whole time?’ – newlyweds anidala (but shh, Obi-Wan doesn’t know that! yes he does, everyone does.) are there when Obi-Wan wakes up and he ownders just what he did to get so lucky.

Febuwhump 2021: A Foray into Hurting the Characters I Love the Most

mind control – Anakin’s narrative as he fights Ahsoka on Mortis. sad boy hours. a lot of insecurity happening here.

‘I can’t take this anymore’ – during the Obitine (plus third-wheel Qui-Gon) year on the run, Satine gets tired of Obi-Wan trying to die for her. a bit hurt/comfort, a lot sappy.

imprisonment – on their first mission together, Obi & Ani get captured. Anakin learns how Obi-Wan feels about tight spaces.

coma – post deception arc. Obi-Wan goes into a coma after a particularly intense conversation with Anakin. Anakin tells Obi’s unconscious body how he’s feeling. angst, angst, angst. there’s your warning.

‘take me instead’ – Anakin escorts Padmé on a diplomatic mission but things get dicey and quick decisions must be made. Anakin isn’t the only one in this relationship willing to be an idiot for the sake of *love.* (or: another attempt to write Anidala in a convincing way because they give me a tough! time! so this time make it...dangerous)

insomnia – Anakin overhears a late night holo-call and learns that his Master has a...friend that is a girl???? and is pretty???? but also that his Master may need some fixing and he thinks he may just be the nine-year-old for the job.

poisoning – Ahsoka gets drugged and Anakin gets...er...angry. (read: dark)

‘hey, hey, this is no time to sleep’ – as Ahsoka and Anakin wait for help, Anakin tells a story. an ancient monster in the heart of Tatooine...waiting for it's day of reckoning. (or: Ahsoka gets dehydrated and Anakin can't deny his hurting sister/padawan anything so he talks a little bit about home.)

buried alive – Anakin reflects on some things as his Padawan tries to rescue him from the rubble. angst!!!!!!!!!

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know’ – the Council loses a planet and Obi & Ani get tasked with finding it, but after nine hyperspace jumps and a painful discovery, Obi-Wan teaches his former Padawan one more lesson. (or: the boys talk about failure and feelings when Obi-Wan finds out Anakin's mechno-arm has been causing pain for a couple years)

hallucinations – Ahsoka tries to fix things. it doesn’t work. (post-order 66) angst

‘who are you?’ – Anakin and Ahsoka rescue Obi-Wan, but things aren’t okay and Obi-Wan doesn’t recognise Anakin. (or: Obi is tortured for information about the fall of the Republic before it happens and goes a bit mad bc of it)

‘I didn’t mean it’ – Obi-Wan learns how cold and unfeeling his young Padawan thinks he is and has a rough day. angst

burned – Anakin mourns the loss of his Padawan in a tactile way. Obi-Wan watches. (or: Anakin throws Ahsoka’s Padawan beads into a fire)

‘I wish I have never given you a chance’ – Obi-Wan is reminded of his own incompetence through a vision form his old master.

you have to let me go – Ahsoka has one heirloom: a hologram of her old master as a padawan. but it’s time to let the past go and step into the future, with help from an old friend.

#my fic #maybe I'll go give creative names to some of these prompt request fills someday but #probably not #anyway I definitely should have been doing things other than making this tonight but HERE WE ARE #:)#also at the time of me typing this I have 49 fics listed on here #which is so crazy to me #bc I just started writing in september and if you had told me I would have 50 fics in five months I would have laughed at you #and its so fun and cringey to look back at some of these #its only been a few months but my writing has CHANGED #(hopefully for the better?)#anyway yay! an organised archive!#sw fanfiction

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pazumane-archive · 3 years

Text

Closing Time - Asahi x Reader

Characters: Asahi Azumane, female reader, original female character, small Taichi cameo

Relationships: Asahi Azumane x Reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, SFW but 16+ please

Warnings: Alcohol, general drunken shenanigans, emetophobia (mentions of vomit), bad language

WC: 6.4k

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is a totally self-indulgent bedtime-scenario-type story because there is simply not enough Asahi/Reader content out there and I adore him. It’s also my first time writing in 2nd person, so PLEASE feel free to send me any feedback, please just be kind :) I really don’t like to use y/n, so I only used it a couple times towards the end when I wasn’t sure what else to do lol

The preview begins with the bolded text below and fic continues after the cut :)

Reblogs appreciated! <3

You weren’t planning on getting this drunk. But by the time it got to be about 11:30, you didn’t know what else to do. You had put so much effort and energy into making yourself look nice just for your date not to show up. Your roommate was out of town, so instead of going home and pouting, you figured you might as well have some fun while you were out. But you’ve never been good at exercising restraint, and the fact that you were alone wasn’t doing you any favors. But by closing time had rolled around, you could hardly see straight. You needed help, so you call upon an old friend.

“Do you have anybody you can call for a ride?” Kawanishi asks.

Kawanishi’s the bartender at this izakaya, and over the course of the night, you spent most of the time talking his ear off. He’s nice enough, and held pleasant conversation for the last few hours. He says he used to be a volleyball player, and had even played on the same team as a one of the guys on the Japan National Team. You forget to ask him which school he attended, but he probably was tired of talking to your drunk ass anyway, so you don’t bother asking. “Yeah,” you say, digging in your purse for your phone. “Are you sure? I can call a cab for you if you need it,” he offers. “Nah,” you say, hiccupping between words. “I’ll call somebody. Thank you though.” “No problem,” he says. “Just try to make it quick.” You scroll through your phone, trying to figure out who to call. Your roommate’s out of town visiting her parents, so she’s a no-go. You could call Kokomi. Honestly, she would deserve the 2AM phone call for setting you up on this failed blind date in the first place. Ever since you moved to Tokyo last month, she was constantly trying to set you up with somebody, whether it was a friend, a coworker, or some rando that she had met on the train. Unfortunately, all of them were jerks. And this one was the biggest jerk of all. You silently curse yourself for going along with her antics again.

“He’s great, you’ll love him!” “You said that about the last three guys you tried to set me up with, Kokomi.” “Please!! You’ll never know if you don’t even give him a chance.”

Well, you gave him a chance. And it ended up with you all alone, drunk as hell in an unfamiliar part of the city. You dial Kokomi’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Bitch,” you mutter. You unlock your phone again and look through to find somebody that might be able to take you home. You scroll back to the top of your contact list, and your eyes settle on another name. He lives just a few blocks away, and knowing him, he’s probably awake working on something anyway. You click on his contact and wait for him to answer.

The exhaustion’s starting to get to him. It’s the weekend and he can afford to stay up an extra couple of hours to finish this design, but the combination of fatigue and frustration are taking over. He sets down his pencil and moves towards his bed, until his cell starts to buzz. He glances over at the clock on the wall. 1:49 AM.

Who could possibly be calling at this hour?

Asahi picks up his phone, surprised to see your name on the screen. His heart skips a beat in his chest, both from excitement and nervousness. Aside from his teammates, you’re one of the only people he bothered to keep in contact with after high school. The two of you had even met up a few times since you moved to the city, but he never would have expected you to call at this hour unless… unless something is wrong. “Hey you, what’s up?” He says, choking back a yawn. “Hiiiii Asahiiii! I tried to call Kokomi but she didn’t answer her phone… could you come pick me up?” Your voice is thick and your words are almost unintelligible as you speak. It’s obvious that you’re far from sober. “Where are you?” Asahi asks, failing to mask the anxiety in his voice. “Are you okay? Are you safe?” “M’fine,” you slur. “But I…” Suddenly the call drops. Asahi calls you back in a panic, his heart racing as he waited for you to answer. You could be in danger and he’d be powerless to help you. He doesn’t even know where you are. “Hello?” A man’s voice comes through the speaker. “Who are you? Where is she?” Asahi asks frantically. “Relax, man. I’m just the bartender,” he says. “Look, your friend’s next to me, but she’s on the verge of passing out. Can you come get her before she pukes all over my bar? She’s at Zoetrope. You know where that is?” “Of course, I’m on my way now! I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Asahi says, grabbing his apartment keys and putting on a pair of shoes. He’s out the door almost immediately.

Kawanishi presses your phone back into your hands. Your head is spinning so fast that you struggle to keep your eyes open. “Is he coming?” you ask. “Yeah, he’s on the way,” Kawanishi says. “He’ll be here soon. Now do me a favor, don’t get this drunk the next time you come into my izakaya or I’ll have to kick you out.” “You’re kicking me out???” “Only if you start throwing up,” he says under his breath. “I’m not going to throw up!” you exclaim, suddenly becoming very aware of the churning in your stomach. You grumble, slumping over the bar. You squeeze your eyes shut, the spinning in your head only getting worse with every breath you take. You feel like you’re going to die, and honestly, between the embarrassment of being stood up and the wave of nausea coming over you, you’re ready to welcome that death with open arms. “Hey!” Kawanishi says, smacking the bar next to your head. “Your friend’s going to be here soon, don’t fall asleep or I’ll throw you out on the street myself.” “I’m sorry, Kawanishi-san.” You sit up slowly and cradle your head in your hands once more, trying to make the world stop spinning.

Please get here soon, Asahi.

Asahi sprints down the street as fast as he can towards the izakaya. He’s sure that he looks suspicious running down the street alone at night, but he doesn’t care. You’re in trouble, and he’s the only person that can help you. He finally makes it to the bar and hastily pulls the door open. You’re dressed beautifully, and your makeup and hair are exquisitely done. Unfortunately, the way you’re slumped over the bar makes it obvious that something’s wrong. He’s not sure what happened, but whatever it was, it must have been rough. The bartender gently helps you out of your seat, and Asahi can’t help but think that he looks very familiar. You straighten up and as soon as you make eye contact with Asahi, you perk up. “Asahi-san!” you exclaim, rushing towards him and almost falling over. You crush him in an unexpectedly tight hug. “Long time no see, big guy!” “I saw you three days ago,” he says under his breath. You continue babbling unintelligibly, and Asahi looks up at the bartender. “Did she close out her tab?” Asahi asks. “I took care of it already,” the bartender replies. “Please just make sure she gets home okay. She’s had a rough night.” “Yeah, of course,” Asahi says. “Thanks for helping her out.” “No problem.” Asahi peels your arms off him and starts to nudge you towards the door. Just before the two of you leave, Asahi stops and turns back to the bartender. “Have we met before?” he asks. “I played for Shiratorizawa. Didn’t think I’d see you again, Karasuno Samurai.” Asahi frowns slightly. He hasn’t heard that nickname high school, and it’s weird hearing it again now. “Right,” he says. “Well, thanks again. Have a good night.” Asahi leads you out of the bar and down the sidewalk. You hold tightly to his arm, stumbling over yourself. He braces you against his side, and you take this opportunity to tease him a little bit. “Do you like my outfit, Asahi-san?” you ask, pressing into his side. “Yeah, it’s really nice!” he answers nervously, turning his head to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. He’s not lying – you look beautiful, both your top and your skirt accentuating your curves in all the right places. But it would be wrong to say anything more than that while you’re in this state. That wouldn’t be fair to either of you. He brusquely clears his throat and keeps walking as soon as the light signals that you can cross. “I dressed up extra nice tonight, but it didn’t even fucking matter,” you grumble, your voice breaking slightly. Asahi either doesn’t hear you, or does hear you and decides not to say anything. “I’m soooo glad you’re here,” you say, drawing out your words even longer than you were a minute ago. “I’m sorry, this is super embarrassing! I should’ve figured this out on my own.” “It’s okay,” Asahi says. “How long have you been in Tokyo again?” “A month? I think?” “Exactly,” he says. “You probably don’t know your way around that much. I’d feel terrible if I wasn’t able to help you find your way home.” “Meh,” you say. “I’ve had the worst night of my fucking life, so maybe it would be better if I passed out in a ditch somewhere.” “Do you want to talk about it?” Asahi asks. “No,” you answer quickly. “Okay.” You start blathering again and Asahi has to practically drag you down the street behind him. The station just past his apartment has a train that can drop you right by your building. He can just take a cab back after he gets you home. He considers inviting you stay the night at his place since it’s right there, but he’s afraid of being weird, so he doesn’t say anything. The two of you come to a stop at the train station… which is closed. “I’m sorry,” Asahi says remorsefully. “I guess the train stopped running at midnight. I’ll call you a cab.” He goes to pull his phone out of his pocket, but you grab his hand before he can. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” you ask sheepishly. “I… my roommate is out of town. And I’m really not doing good right now. I just really don’t want to be alone.” Despite how out of it you’ve been since he picked you up, Asahi sees nothing but complete sincerity in your eyes. Tonight must have been really rough. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’ll just sleep on the couch- or a futon if you have one!” you say, nodding. “Okay.” Asahi turns back towards his apartment and you follow closely behind him, not letting go of his hand the entire time.

Asahi helps you across the threshold of his apartment and sits you down on a chair by the door. “Asahi-san, you’re so handsome with your hair down like that,” you say, reaching up to twirl a finger in his long chestnut tresses. “And you’re loopy,” Asahi mutters, disentangling your fingers from his hair. Once again, he finds himself hiding a blush. He’s not used to being showered with compliments, and he knows you wouldn’t be saying this stuff if you were sober. He kicks off his shoes and kneels down in front of you, helping you take yours off. “How are you feeling?” he asks you. “Can I get you some water or a some–” “Why didn’t you ask me out when we were in high school?” you ask suddenly. “I think I made it pretty obvious that I had a crush on you. It’s all I could think about when you were holding my hand back there.” “I – I, uh,” Asahi stammers. You burst out laughing, startling Asahi. It’s that same boisterous laugh you’ve had for as long as he could remember knowing you. You were always self-conscious about it in high school, but your laugh has always been one of Asahi’s favorite things about you. Despite the fact that it’s at his expense, he’s glad to see your mood improve. Asahi considers your question for a moment. He really liked you too back then, and everyone knew it. Suga and Daichi constantly teased him for it.

So why hadn’t he asked you out back then?

Well, for a number of reasons. He spent so much of his third year focused on volleyball that he didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for much else. He hadn’t even planned on going back to school after graduation until Nishinoya helped convince him to pursue his passions. He felt directionless, and he didn’t want to burden anybody else with his indecision. But most importantly, he was scared you’d reject him. Suga was right. He really was a coward. He’d dated a few people since high school graduation, but none of them made him feel the way you did, and they didn’t treat him as well as you would have. Which begs the question – why hasn’t he asked you out since you moved to Tokyo? He pushes the thought to the back of his mind. This isn’t the kind of conversation to be having when you aren’t even able to form a coherent sentence. Asahi’s thoughts are interrupted by your hand on his shoulder and a loud hiccup. “I should wash my face. Can I wash my face?” “Sure,” Asahi says, helping you stand up. You stumble forward, but he catches you easily and pulls you back to your feet. He quietly leads you to the bathroom and sits you down on the edge of the bathtub. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m a mess.” “No, you’re not. Hold on a second,” he says, opening the drawer under the sink. He pulls out a small package of makeup wipes and takes one out. He kneels in front of you and begins wiping the makeup off your face. “I know they’re not great for your skin,” he says. “But it’s better than nothing, right?” “Why do you even have those?” you ask between hiccups. “Do you wear makeup? I mean, it’s obviously fine if you do, but it doesn’t really seem like your thing.” “I don’t, but you never know when they’ll come in handy! I do work with a lot of makeup artists,” he says, somewhat defensively. You get the sense that he’s lying about something, but Asahi changes the subject before you can probe him any further. “So what were you doing there by yourself?” he asks. “It’s not safe to be alone so late at night.” Clearly this was the wrong thing to ask. All the negative emotions and thoughts you were having all even spring to the forefront of your mind, and you start to cry. Asahi starts apologizing profusely, but you wave him off. “It’s fine,” you sniffle, wiping a tear away from your cheek. “Kokomi was trying to set me up with one of her friends, but he never showed up.” Asahi sits back on his heels. Kokomi is another girl from Karasuno that ended up in Tokyo. She wasn’t in the same class as him, but he remembers how loud she always was in the hallways. Honestly, both of you were always loud, but you’ve always been much more considerate of others than Kokomi ever was. “Shit,” he mumbles. “That really sucks. I’m sorry.” “Yeah. It does suck.” Asahi grabs another wipe and asks you to close your eyes. You do as he says, and he lightly wipes off your eye makeup. He’s worked with enough models to recognize that you’re wearing false eyelashes, so he gently pulls those off too. You feel yourself start to wobble on the edge of the tub, so you grip his arm to steady yourself. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me.” “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” you ask suddenly. “Wait, what?” “I just… this keeps happening to me. Everyone always says that it’s because they’re not the right person for me, but it’s starting to feel like there’s just something wrong with me instead,” you say, choking back a sob. “I know I just moved here, but I’m just so lonely. I hate feeling like I’m not good enough.” Asahi tenderly wipes a tear from your cheek and cups your face in both hands. “Hey, look at me. There is nothing wrong with you,” he says sincerely. “That guy is an idiot and a jerk. If he had any idea how extraordinary you are, he never would’ve done that to you.” You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You don’t feel like you deserve to be spoken to like this – with such genuine kindness and sincerity. Asahi makes you feel so good. So special. He always has. And he’s just so… tender, especially for somebody who looks as intimidating as he does. You wonder if those feelings from high school ever truly went away. You sit up straighter and try to smile at him, but your stomach flips unexpectedly and violently. “Asahi-san?” you ask, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Yeah?” he replies. “Toilet.” Asahi moves out of the way as fast as possible. You hunch over the rim and retch into the toilet bowl. Asahi quickly scoops up your hair and holds it behind your head as you throw up. “Please, just leave me,” you mutter. “I’m gonna fucking die here.” “I’m not going to leave you here and you’re not going to die,” Asahi says, gingerly picking up the last loose strands laying on your neck and holding them back with the rest of your hair. Your back tenses up again before you begin heaving once more. Asahi tucks his nose into the collar of his shirt, careful to make sure that he’s out of your field of vision. He wants to be there for you but he had a weak stomach himself and the sight and smell of somebody else’s vomit is something he knows he won’t be able to handle. You mumble weak apologies between hacks, but Asahi just ignores them and rubs your back gently. After what feels like an eternity, the churning in your stomach finally stops and you reach up towards the flush handle. The exhaustion in your body and heart finally begin to catch up with you, and your hand falls back to your side. “I got it. Do you think you’re done?” Asahi asks, coaxing you back up into a seated position. You nod, too tired to try to speak. Asahi quickly tugs his shirt back down from his face before you can see and closes the toilet lid. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Don’t be,” Asahi says, flushing the toilet. “I’m your friend. I want to help you. And I’ve already told you that you don’t need to apologize to me.” Asahi helps you sit on the top of the toilet and rises to his feet. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says, scurrying out of the room. Although your eyes are closed, you still feel your body swaying. More than anything, you just want to go to sleep. Asahi pads back into the room and presses a wooden cup into your hands. “Drink this,” he says, turning on the faucet. Even though drinking something is the last thing you want to be doing right now, you go ahead and lift the cup to your open mouth. Cold water passes your lips and washes away some of the disgusting taste in your mouth. It feels gross, but you force yourself to drink all of it. Asahi takes the cup from your hand and turns the faucet back off. You flinch at the feeling of a damp washcloth on your face. “It’s okay,” Asahi says gently, cradling your chin with his free hand and angling your face up. “Just cleaning you up a little.” You murmur in acknowledgement and Asahi continues to wipe your face down. You almost fall asleep sitting on his toilet, but he gently shakes you to keep you awake. “Stay with me for another minute,” he says softly. “You can go to sleep soon. You’re gonna be just fine. I promise.” His words and his voice are so sweet that you want to cry. A couple rogue tears drip from your eyes and onto his hands. “I’m sorry,” you say once more. Asahi sets the washcloth on the counter and starts to pull you to your feet. You struggle to stay on your feet, so instead, he carefully scoops you into his arms and carries you out the bathroom. You don’t care where you go, you just need to sleep. Asahi’s pretty certain you’re asleep by the time he deposits you on his mattress. Your chest rises and falls slowly as he pulls his duvet over you. He begins to make his way to the couch, but stops when he feels you grab his hand. “Please don’t go, Asahi-san,” you whisper. “Please.” You tug harder at his fingers and he knows he can’t refuse you. He ends up sitting on the edge of the bed holding your hand until you fall asleep.

As soon as your quiet snores permeate the silence, Asahi untangles his fingers from yours. He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face and he can’t help but let his eyes linger on your sleeping face for just a moment. The moonlight trickling through the window illuminates your hair and casts a silvery glow on your skin. Despite the awful night you’ve had, you look absolutely radiant. He feels himself blushing again, but he takes some comfort in the fact that he doesn’t have to try and hide it this time. Not while you’re fast asleep in his bed. He’s far too scared to admit it, even to himself, but he’s fantasized about falling asleep next to you many times before. But in those fantasies you weren’t drunk and crying over another man. Asahi sighs, stands up, and moves over to the dresser as quietly as he can. After setting a few things out for you, he goes into the bathroom, gets ready for bed and heads to the couch for the night.

By the time you wake up in the morning, you feel like you’re going to die. You can’t remember what exactly happened the previous night. The last thing you remember clearly was talking to the bartender about high school volleyball, of all things. Your head’s pounding, and your stomach aches painfully, screaming at you to please eat something. You don’t open your eyes, fearing that it would somehow trigger another round of vomiting. Eventually, you force yourself into a seated position and open your eyes. The bedroom you’re in is small, but pretty well-decorated. It’s decently tidy. The only mess is a few crumpled up clothing designs discarded on the floor next to the trash bin.

Designs? Did that mean?

You’re at Asahi’s apartment. In his bed. Your eyes widen in panic.

What happened last night?

You’re still wearing the clothes that you wore to the bar last night. And there’s no evidence of him ever being in bed with you. You reach over towards your phone, which has been graciously plugged in for you and set on the bedside table. That’s when you notice the note along with a sleeve of crackers and a glass of ginger ale.

Good morning!

There’s a set of clothes you can wear at the foot of the bed and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Feel free to take a shower if you want. Extra towels are underneath the sink. Please have something to eat and drink too. You’ll feel better if you do.

-Asahi

P.S. Please don’t feel bad. It’s okay.

You grab a few of the crackers from the bedside table and eat them, washing them down with the ginger ale.

Why does Asahi have to be so damn considerate? The whole situation is so embarrassing.

You contemplate just grabbing your phone and getting the hell out of his apartment, but you’re not going to pass up the opportunity to shower. You finish the last of the crackers, chug down the ginger ale, and grab the spare clothes at the end of the bed. You turn the doorknob as silently as you can and awkwardly creep down the hall towards the bathroom, stopping briefly to peek in the living room. Asahi’s fast asleep on the couch, clad only in pajama pants and a pair of fuzzy socks. His hair is down and messily splayed across the throw pillow he’s resting his head on. Quiet snores pass his lips. He looks cute. Your eyes trail from his face and down to his stomach. Despite quitting volleyball after high school, he seems to have mostly maintained his athletic form, except for a tiny little layer of pudge on his lower stomach. The corners of your lips twitch up into a smile, until that little voice in the back of your mind reminds you of your place.

Quit staring, you perv! You need to get out of here!

You hurriedly continue down the hallway and jump into the shower as soon as you get into the bathroom. You think that maybe if you clean up fast enough, you can get out of Asahi’s apartment before he wakes up. However, as soon as you step into the shower, all worries about rushing out disappear into the back of your mind. You bask in the hot water, the steam clearing your sinuses and relieving some of the pain in your head. You silently thank the gods that Asahi actually uses conditioner, and not just 3-in-1 like most of the other men you were previously…. acquainted with. Although, it makes sense to you that somebody with hair like Asahi’s would have a strict haircare routine. As you shower, fragmented memories of last night start to come back to you.

Being stood up at the bar. Calling Asahi for help. Puking your guts out in his bathroom. Him carrying you into his room and laying you down on his bed. Him staying by your side until you fell asleep. You wishing he would’ve crawled into bed with you and held you through the night… Wait, what was that last part?

As soon as you’re done rinsing the conditioner from your hair, you step out of the shower and swiftly towel off. You find the spare toothbrush Asahi mentioned, take it out of the packaging, and brush your teeth with his toothpaste. The dry, gross feeling in your mouth is quickly replaced with a minty fresh taste. You slip on the sweatpants and t-shirt that Asahi left for you and dry your hair. Thankfully, Asahi isn’t as huge as most people make him out to be, so while the clothes he left out are a bit big on you, you’re not drowning in them. You’ll just bring them back some other day. You start combing through your hair, and that’s when you hear it – the sound of somebody padding around in the apartment. Shit. Once the footsteps quiet down, you rush out of the bathroom and towards the front door. Asahi eyes you as you scoop up your shoes, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Good morning!” he says kindly. “How are you feeling?” “I’m so sorry Azumane-san, it won’t happen again!” you say as you throw open the door and rush into the hallway. “Hold on, wait up!” he says as you pull the door closed behind you. You run all the way to the stairs at the end of the hallway and go to call Kokomi for a ride home. That’s when you realize that your phone is still plugged into the wall in Asahi’s room. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You turn around and trudge back towards his apartment. Before you can even knock, the door opens slowly. Asahi stands there in just his pajama pants, holding your phone out to you. “You shouldn’t leave without your phone,” he says. You thank him and take your phone, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You try not to stare at his bare chest, already feeling like a creep for ogling him while he was sleeping. “Your clothes are still in the bathroom, too,” he says. “I can go get them for you. Or I can just wash them and give them back to you another time if you want to leave.” “No, that’s okay,” you say, covering your flushing cheeks with the collar of his shirt. “I’ll get them. Can I come in?” “Of course.” Asahi steps out of your way and you head straight for the bathroom, avoiding looking in his eyes. Asahi never gets angry, and you know he wouldn’t be mad at you over something like this, but a lingering sense of shame still washes over you. You scoop up your clothes and leave the bathroom. As soon as you cross the threshold into the living room, the smell of coffee and frying fish washes over you. Asahi stands in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. In the time that you were in the bathroom, he put on a Black Jackals sweatshirt and threw his hair into a loose bun. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asks, smiling at you and pouring his own cup. “It’ll help with the hangover.” You stand there and ponder his offer for a moment. Sensing your hesitancy, Asahi suddenly turns back to the stove and mumbles something that you can’t quite make out. “What did you say?” you ask. Asahi rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’s had since you were kids. “I don’t mean to pressure you to stay or anything! I just thought it might help for you to have something more than crackers and ginger ale.” “You’ve done plenty to help me since last night,” you say. “But I’ll take that coffee if the offer is still on the table.” “It is!” Asahi says a little too enthusiastically for his own good. You can’t help but smirk as you take your seat at the kitchen table. Asahi pours you a cup of coffee and slides you a bowl of the rice and fish he made. You thank him quietly and start to eat. He slides into the chair across from you and eats his own breakfast, eyeing you carefully. “What?” you ask after catching him staring. “Since when have you ever called me Azumane-san?” he asks. “I don’t know,” you mumble into your coffee mug. “I didn’t think we reverted back from first name basis,” he says. “I thought we knew each other better than that.” “I don’t know,” you say, a devilish smile crossing your face. “Care to explain why you actually had those makeup wipes in your bathroom drawer? I doubt your makeup artists are coming over to your apartment.” Now it’s Asahi’s turn to blush again. “My ex-girlfriend left them here,” he says. “Felt like a waste to just throw them out.” “Ex-girlfriend?!” you exclaim suddenly, startling Asahi and causing him to drop the wipe on the floor. “I didn’t know you were seeing somebody!” “Yeah,” he says, throwing the wipe in the trash and grabbing a fresh one. “We broke up a while before you moved to the city. She left a bunch of her stuff here and refused to come pick it up. I think she was just too embarrassed to see me again. I got rid of most of it a while ago, but I kept some of the more… uh, utilitarian things.” “I’m sorry,” you say sincerely. “Why did you break up?” Asahi feels a slight pang in his chest. He met his last girlfriend through his job. She was nice enough, and things seemed like they were going okay until he showed up at her apartment to surprise her for their 6 month anniversary, only to find another man in her bed. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say. “It’s fine. She cheated on me with some other guy,” he says, his expression darkening. “I think they’re engaged now.” “Shit,” you say. “What a bitch.” “Woah, settle down, it’s okay –” “No, it’s not,” you say firmly. “You deserve someone way better than that. Somebody that treats you with the love and respect that you deserve.” Asahi knows you’re right, but he doesn’t really want to press it. That whole mess had done a number on his mental health, and he really doesn’t want to burden you with his emotional baggage. He adjusts his glasses again and forces a smile. “You know, you should really take your own advice,” he says. You try to think back on what you had said to him last night. The details are fuzzy, but you remember crying. A lot. Instead of answering him, you shovel down the last of the rice and fish. “Thank you for the meal,” you say. Asahi smiles and nods at you before beginning to clear the dishes away. You stand up and stop him, insisting that you clean up yourself. As you finish drying the bowls, your phone buzzes. You check it, only to see a handful of missed texts from Kokomi.

Ono Kokomi [8:32} Hey!! Sorry I missed your call. How was he? (°◡°♡) [9:14] That good? (^.~)☆ [9:18] Or that bad?! (;;;*_*) [9:57] HELLO?? (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ [10:32] ARE YOU ALIVE?!?!?! 〣( ºΔº )〣

You roll your eyes and quickly type out your response.

Y/N [10:33] Yeah, no thanks to you. (￢_￢;)

Ono Kokomi [10:34] Was it really that bad?

Y/N [10:34] He didn’t even show up. (╥_╥) [10:34] Azumane picked me up at 2 AM because I was too drunk to go home alone. I stayed the night at his place. [10:34] Speaking of which, can you come pick me up? Not really in a state to take the train and I think you owe me one.

Ono Kokomi [10:35] (⊙_⊙) [10:35] Spill. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Y/N [10:36] There’s nothing to spill. I threw up in his bathroom and he slept on the couch. Can you just answer my question please? (҂` ﾛ ´)凸

Ono Kokomi [10:36] Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m on my way, lovebird. (￣ε￣＠)

“Everything okay?” Asahi asks. “Yeah,” you say, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Kokomi’s going to come pick me up.” “Are you sure? I can take you if you want,” he offers. “Yeah, she’s already on her way,” you say, setting the bowl down and turning to face him. “Besides, you’ve done more than enough for me already over the last twelve hours.” You silently pick up your things and walk towards the door. Asahi rises from his chair and awkwardly clears his throat. “Do you have all your stuff?” You nod and smile. Before you open the door, you approach him and wrap your arms around his waist. He shyly hugs you back, hoping you can’t hear the rapid pounding in his chest. “Thank you, Asahi,” you whisper. “You’re amazing.” You let go first and leave his apartment quietly. As soon as the door closes, Asahi walks back into the living room and flops down on the couch. He covers his face with his hands and groans. This morning was almost too much for him – seeing you in his clothes, eating breakfast together, you hugging him before you left. It was all so painfully domestic, and he wishes it didn’t have to end. If only he wasn’t such a coward, he would’ve asked you to stay longer. He doesn’t know how long he lays there until he finally decides to get moving for the day and finish that piece he was working on when you called last night. He checks his phone and sees your name pop up on the screen.

Y/N [11:00] I’m home. Thanks again for babysitting me last night. Whatever did I do to deserve you as my guardian angel? ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ [11:00] Or was that Noya-san? I forget. (^ω~)

Azumane Asahi [11:01] Lol. You’re welcome. And that was what we called Noya in our club days, but I don’t mind you calling me that too (* ^ ω ^)

Y/N [11:03] Let me make it up to you. [11:04] Come over for dinner tomorrow night?

Asahi almost drops his phone on his face. His fingers fumble as he types his response. He waits a moment before sending it, rereading it ten times to make sure he doesn’t come across as desperate.

Azumane Asahi [11:07] I’d love to. Do you want me to bring anything?

Y/N [11:08] That’s not necessary. I owe you a nice dinner. [11:09] You still like tonkotsu ramen?

Azumane Asahi [11:10] I do!

Y/N [11:11] It’s a date! See you tomorrow! (☞°ヮ°)☞ ☜(°ヮ°☜)

“You said nothing happened last night,” Kokomi says, staring over your shoulder at your phone. “Nothing happened, Kokomi. Now leave me alone,” you snap, tossing one of your throw pillows at her. She deftly catches it and plops down on the couch next to you. “Please,” she says, swatting you with the pillow. “The only reason you two haven’t gotten together is because you’re the densest people on the planet. I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” “Shut up,” you grumble. Kokomi’s phone rings and she quickly checks it. “Anyway, I have to go meet Kaito,” she says. “Got to go. Let me know how your date goes!” She waves and practically skips out the front door. You lay down and start making a shopping list for ingredients for tonkatsu ramen. As soon as you’re done, you set your phone down and cross your arms over your face.

“I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” No, Kokomi. That’s me.

#asahi azumane #azumane asahi #asahi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fic writer #asahi x female reader #asahi x you #asahi x yn

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lokilickedme · 3 years

Text

The Way

I’m writing horror again. I guess it’s that time, you know, that time that has nothing to do with Halloween or the seasons or whatever, that time when it just hits me for some reason. And just like I always do, I’ll say I don’t know why.

Even though I know why, and you know I know why.

Because the truth is always so much weirder and worse and more disquieting than any excuse I could make up for it, and sometimes I just feel the need.

Today I felt the need, and I couldn’t make it go away.

And so I sat down, and words I didn’t want to write were written.

8592 words I would rate this Mature 18+ if it was a fic, strictly because of the subject matter.

Warnings: Death, mostly. Religious trauma, brief descriptions of abuse, mentions of mental illness, domestic violence, grief, familial dysfunction, religious abuse, emotional abuse, medical conditions, brief mentions of drug use/abuse, mild gore in reference to corpse decomposition, psychological unease and mild terror, child abuse (mental/emotional/psychological), brief allusion to physical child abuse, cult references, loss of faith, attempted murder, possible actual murder.

A Note: I love you guys, you’re always so quick and willing to be helpful and offer advice and suggestions and such, and I adore that about you. But on this piece of work I ask that nobody offer any theories about what happened to my brother - medical, criminal, or otherwise - and please no suggestions on things we could do to pursue investigation, that ship has long sailed. It’s been 23 years and he’s a cold case. We spent years trying to sort it out but in the end it’s just something that happened, and we moved on because we had to. There are a lot of open ends, a lot of question marks, a lot of suspicious details that never connected to anything - and we tried, we truly did. If anyone out there knows the truth, they’ve never shown themselves to us. We do have our theories, but my brother was a secretive person living a life none of us knew about, and the people he knew weren’t people we knew. Everyone involved is either dead or moved on or got away with whatever it was they did, and there are only three of us who still care. It’s over.

Until today, I’ve never put these events into words.

It was something I needed to do, finally.

This is PART ONE. There may not be a part two, unless doing this ends up making me feel better.

Please feel free to comment if you wish. As you can see, pretty much nothing triggers me. I just ask that you please refrain from the type of comments noted above.

And thank you.

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This is, regrettably, a true story. Nothing has been changed but the names, because the dead don’t like being talked about, and James was just enough of a shit to haunt me for it.

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They made up their minds And they started packing They left before the sun came up that day An exit to eternal summer slacking But where were they going without ever knowing the way

They drank up the wine And they got to talking They now had more important things to say And when the car broke down They started walking Where were they going without ever knowing the way

Anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold And it's always summer They'll never get cold They'll never get hungry They'll never get old and gray You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

Their children woke up And they couldn't find them They left before the sun came up that day They just drove off and left it all behind them But where were they going without ever knowing the way?

You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

- The Way, Fastball, 1998

That was the year James died in his sleep.

Or that’s what they say, anyway. Asthma, the likely cause based on his medical history, our first and least disturbing assumption. Undetermined, the official determination based on the hastily scraped-together autopsy, the best that could be done under the circumstances. We tell people he had breathing problems, and they nod their heads and agree because they knew he did, and now he’s been gone so long that nobody asks. Most of the people who ever met him have long moved on or disappeared or died themselves, or just remember him as the enigmatic middle son from the Keithley family that nobody really knew very well. You know, the odd one, the one that showed up at meetings maybe once a year and smiled nervously but didn’t really talk to anyone and always seemed anxious to leave? The one who died under mysterious circumstances? That one.

He left the way he always came in. Quietly, unexpected, without anyone being aware of either his entrance or his exit.

But me and mom know some things, and she’s not talking. She probably never will.

So maybe it’s time I did.

December 1998. I’d gotten married two years previous and moved back to the family land with my new husband. He hated it there, but we had an affordable place to live. It wasn’t bad. He’d tell you otherwise. The land never sat right with him, but I’d lived there too many years to see it. I’d been fifteen when my father uprooted his large family from the city and hauled us out to the great back door to nowhere, and even though I’d left several times to wander elsewhere, I always came back.

I didn’t realize why at the time, at any of the multiple times. But now I know. That place gets you, and it holds you, and unless you’re goddamned devoted to staying gone you will always be pulled back. It took me till I was 49 to funnel the necessary amount of devotion away from the religious dedication I’d had jackbooted into me and turn it toward getting out, but against a great number of overwhelming odds I finally did it.

But this isn’t about that, not yet anyway. This is about my brother James, and how he went to sleep one night and found his own way out.

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It was snowing, had been for days, a bit unusual but not unheard of. The part of the state we lived in was notorious for extended ice storms and we knew a bad one was coming, but until it hit we played in the snow like it was a gift and we were deprived children who knew it was all going to be taken away soon. My brothers and I were adults but you wouldn’t know it, watching us sneak around in the woods staging elaborate commando attacks on each other. James was the best of us, a stealth king who could stand in the middle of a room for an hour without a single soul seeing him. Perception bias, he said. Your brain ignores me because I obviously don’t belong, like those puzzles where you circle what’s wrong but it takes you forever to find them.

He crept around in the forest scaring the shit out of people, dropping his long tall self out of trees, appearing from nowhere to administer a well aimed snowball to the face of whoever happened to cross his path and then disappearing just as quickly. We called him a wraith and it wasn’t a good natured jibe. We meant it. He made people nervous. He was the stealthy kind of quiet you associate with danger, and he knew how to do things an average person doesn’t ever have any need to know. It was a quiet cool that we admired him for, because none of the rest of us had it.

The religion we were raised in kept a tight lid on us, but me and James, we never really let it get into our bones. We were the smart ones, in retrospect. I went through the motions by force of habit and a sense of self preservation, doing what was expected and demanded of me, following the rules and making myself a perfect example of a young member of the church so I wouldn’t bring shame on the congregation and my family. But mostly the congregation. It was always more important than anything else. And I had behaving down to an art form, but mostly when people were looking. Usually also when they weren’t.

But sometimes, not quite.

And then I prayed for forgiveness about it later because God was supposed to forgive you if you asked him to, right? The tenet of willful sin being unforgivable never took root with me even though that was what the church conditioned into us through fear and constant repetition. They said it from the stage two nights a week and again on Sunday to hammer it home. Two nights a week and again on Sunday my head silently disagreed. God’s not like that. And then I did the praying for forgiveness thing even though I knew I was right, because I was disagreeing with the church, and the church was God’s channel here on Earth, wasn’t it? I committed a mortal sin at least three times a week on that subject alone, and though the dread of divine punishment was hardwired into me, I never could reconcile the concept of a loving and forgiving God destroying me simply for knowing better.

I’m not sure the comprehension of an overwatching deity ever actually established itself in James’ brain. A moral code, yes. But isn’t that what God is, really? Maybe he understood more about God and forgiveness than the rest of us. But he was considered an unapproved fringe member of the church because he couldn’t suffer people and noise and being looked at and he refused to preach, and he was soft-shunned as a result. Because if you weren’t all in to the point of being willing to die at any moment for your faith, you were as good as faithless.

And faithless meant condemned. And the congregation couldn’t be bothered with condemned people, regardless of their reasons for not having both feet in the water. The first and only option on their list was to put the person out and let them find their own way back once they realized they had nobody left in the world who cared about them.

James escaped that somehow. He was supposed to be shunned whole scale, but he wasn’t trying to convince anyone to leave the faith and he presented no threat to anyone’s strength of belief, and so far as anyone knew he’d committed no grave sins other than disinterest. So the rule that dictated we cast him out was bent enough to allow him to remain living on the family land, though at one point during a fit of overzealous righteousness my mother had tried to have a family meeting to vote on whether or not we were going to let him stay. I refused to vote and when I walked out of the house the meeting fell apart.

I’ve never forgiven her for that. Her son’s life being put to a vote with her presiding over the proceedings, vengeful and unfeeling and devoid of compassion on behalf of God himself. It takes my breath away, the anger, still to this day. The only thing I ever truly learned from my mother about parenting was a long and intensely detailed list of what not to do to my own children, and I suppose I should be grateful for that. It’s a bitter thank-you to have to give, but it’s something.

We knew James as much as he would allow us to, and not an inch further. Which meant the extent of our knowledge of him pretty much stretched to include the singular fact that he was different. What that meant, I still don’t really know - but it was there from the day he was born, that slight off-ness, the oddly off center calibration that you can’t really see so much as sense in a person. I know now he was likely on the autism spectrum and he walked through life seeing and reacting to everything differently than most of us, but that wasn’t a thing back then. You were just weird, or you weren’t. And I’m not convinced that was a bad thing for him, strictly speaking. But in the confines of our religion and our family’s devout and sometimes violent dedication to it, it took its toll almost daily.

He stood out, and he was very much a person who didn’t want to. He wanted to fade into the background, to not be seen, to not be known. And our religion didn’t tolerate that kind of nonsense, because we were commanded to be bold bearers of The Word Of God, and no exceptions were made.

None.

I’m going to stop calling it a religion now. I beg your indulgence as I shift to calling it what it is, because calling it a religion is an insult to actual religions that don’t destroy peoples’ lives with callous indifference and murderous glee.

We were raised in a doomsday death cult. There’s no other name that fits.

And we were trapped in it and its ugly cycle of neverending mental and emotional manipulation and abuse until we were adults, and some of us are still bound to it. My oldest brother worked his way up to the upper levels of oversight in the local congregation and was solidly entrenched in it until his death, which is a story for later. My youngest brother, the last remaining living blood sibling I have, is still deeply in it to this day and will likely never leave it.

I took the hard way out, three years ago, by walking away.

James, though. He took the easy way. He simply closed his eyes, and he was free.

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December 22, 1998. Three days before Christmas, though that meant nothing to us. The cult told us Christmas was a filthy demonic pagan ritual that was condemned by God, so to us the season was just a nice chilly time of year with lots of time off from work. We’d had an unusual amount of snow, the most we’d had in years. The roads were impassable and everyone was home except my husband, who worked close enough that his boss at the glass shop came and picked him up that morning with chains on his tires. Lots of windshields had shattered from the sudden violent cold that had struck the previous night and Scott had the only glass shop for sixty miles.

I think it must have been around noon, and likely my mother had sent my dad up the hill to see if James wanted to come down for the lunch she was making. He and his wife had split up against the strict rules of the church after a few years of suffering through an ill advised marriage, an important detail to this story that will come into the tale later, and he was alone up there at the top of the hill a lot. Sometimes he forgot to eat, or he got so busy that he just didn’t bother, so our mother always made something for him because even though he was in his 20′s he was still a kid who needed looking after and her zealous fervor against him had died down with time. I think he let her believe he was helpless because it worked in his favor and there was always lunch waiting for him in her kitchen as a result.

He was different, he wasn’t dumb.

We all lived on the hill back then with the exception of our youngest brother. He’d moved to the city with his new wife not long prior. The locals jokingly called the place a commune, and I guess they weren’t completely wrong. Thirty-eight acres of wooded land far beyond the city limits that we’d painstakingly spent years carving a livable space into, with five houses, all built from the ground up and inhabited by an extended family of well known culties from a well known cult. It’s almost comical, looking back on it, knowing now how they kept an eye on us for years to make sure we weren’t doing anything weird up there.

They should have run us off with pitchforks and burning stakes at the very beginning.

Things might have ended differently for us if they had.

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My grandparents lived at one end of the property, an old couple as simple and solid as salted soup, devoutly religious and devoted to the cult and very much cut from the can survive anything and probably will cloth like so many old country folks of their generation. They were waiting out the end of days up there in their little wooden house, expecting the final hour of this old system to come long before their own demise. I liked my grandmother, she had a sweet smile and fell asleep every time granddad started talking about the Bible and she paid me five dollars every Wednesday to drive her into town to get groceries, and years later, when she was dying, she told me she’d had a dream where she met my unborn son. I was four months pregnant and didn’t know yet that I was having a boy. She died before he was born, but to this day, fifteen years later, he tells me he’s sure he met her, he just can’t remember when.

I was scared of my grandfather. Not terrified, but there was nothing grandfatherly to him and I always suspected he never actually liked kids much. He’d once told us a story about the great Fort Worth flood that wiped out most of the city when my mom was a baby, and how he had told my grandmother to let go of my 2-year-old mother while he was struggling to get them across a rushing flooded creek in water up to their shoulders. My grandmother couldn’t swim. We could make another Ruthie, he said. But I couldn’t get another ‘Nita.

He said it proudly, like he was to be admired for his choice. I was young when he told that story, but it settled into me that this was evil.

Even when he was old as dirt and dying of a brain tumor in hospice care, he made me uneasy. I was never close to him. But for some reason, in his final days, he forgot who everyone was except me. I had been living in another state for years and he hadn’t seen me since before the tumor started taking his life. But when I walked into the room he turned his head and looked at me, and he mouthed my name.

He couldn’t speak. I don’t know what he was trying to say, struggling with words that nobody could hear. And I felt bad. I didn’t want to be the last person he recognized. My cousins adored him and had spent the last few years constantly at his side, and they were angry, maybe justifiably, that I was the one he reached for.

I didn’t want that at all.

I don’t believe he was a bad man, but he never spoke of anything except the cult’s interpretation of the Bible, and it was as tiresome as it was terrifying. Granddads are supposed to be fun. Ours quoted doctrine at us in a deep loud commanding voice that you couldn’t interrupt and you couldn’t tune out, and once he got going you had to just settle in and wait for him to run out of zealous steam. And then he would suddenly stop and command grandmother to turn on a John Wayne movie and bring him some ice cream, and it was over until the next time.

I know my mother resented him. She knew grandmother was the one that had refused to let her go, the one that had held onto her even though she almost drowned by the simple act of holding on. She knew her father had been willing to let her wash away and drown. That he thought she was interchangeable with whatever baby they would have next. How she could spend her entire life with that knowledge and not be deeply affected by it was something that never made sense to me, but now, when she’s in her 70′s and I’m in my 50′s, I finally understand. It affected her. She’ll just be damned if she’ll let anyone see it. And she had stood there in that hospice room watching him mouth my name with resentment burning in her eyes, though she would have rather died than let anyone know what it was for. He’d forgotten her weeks ago.

The house in the center of the hill was mom and dad. The homestead. The house we’d all lived in together, that we’d built with our own hands, the first thing that marked that wild overgrown hill as a place where people actually lived. A long path through the woods connected it to the grandparents’ house, and it was the epicenter of everything in our lives. James and I had lived in the upstairs rooms of that house until we both moved out and married our respective mates years later, a reprehensible act on our part that was never okay with my mother and that she never forgave either of us for. She’d wanted us all to stay. We can all live here together until the New System comes, she always said. That’s how the Bible says it’s supposed to be. We can all keep each other safe and on the right path until the end comes, and then we’ll all be here together forever.

A decade later when I sat up on the hill watching that house burn to the ground, there was as much relief as grief billowing into the sky with the black smoke. It was the end of an era, and it was far beyond time for it.

Nobody saw it but me. James was dead, had been for years. Robbie was dead now too. Dad was gone, so was granddad. Me and my youngest brother David were the last two left of the kids, but he had moved to a neighboring city when he got married and he has never seen things the way I see them. We were of different generations, we weren’t raised the same way, and he’d never experienced the abuse I lived with for the first half of my life. And he had dedicated his own life to the cult with all the honesty and lack of guile that I didn’t have when I’d made my own dedication vows at the too-young age of sixteen.

It was the end of an era, but apparently only for me.

James’ house was up the hill, past a clearing where my dad used to keep old cars that he cannibalized for parts. Our oldest brother Robbie, long married with kids of his own, lived at the bottom on the farthest corner of the land. And my house was on the slope to the west, built on the spot where we’d cleared off an old half-fallen homestead from the late 1800′s, dutifully paying no mind to the fact that a grave was nestled into the slope, right where the yellow daffodils grew. The cult told us superstition was tied up with the demons and false religion, so we didn’t have the built-in human instinct that tells most people to stay the hell away from certain things.

We just pretended it wasn’t there, and put no importance on it. It was just an old grave. The soil was good and the garden I planted next to it did well, though those strange daffodils always wound themselves through everything I put in the ground. My husband said something wasn’t right about it, but I didn’t pay any attention to him. He hadn’t been raised as devout as me.

My dad knocked on my door around lunchtime and I opened it. He backed up, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, the fancy leather coat the dealership had awarded him when he was designated a five-star Chrysler technician and given the state’s first and only license to work on the new Vipers that had recently rolled off the prototype line. It was a cool jacket. Made him look like the old pictures my other grandmother had shown me of him from the early 1960′s, when he was young and very much a product of a fancier era. He’d never stopped greasing his hair back and was still so thin that he and I wore the same size jeans.

I’ve never understood the look on his face when I opened the door. To this day I can’t sort it. It wasn’t a blankness like so many people who’ve seen death wear without awareness. It wasn’t grief. It wasn’t even shock.

He was sorry.

Those were the first words out of his mouth.

I’m sorry.

I stood there, not knowing what he was sorry for. It was cold. I couldn’t push the screen door open very far because of the snow blocking it. And my father was standing at the bottom of the steps James had helped my husband build, his hands shoved down far into his pockets like a penitent child about to get in trouble, telling me he was sorry.

James is dead, he finally said. He’s in his house. I went up there and he’s dead.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I do now - just now, this very moment in fact, I know that I was the first person he told. He came straight from James’ house to mine and told me my brother was dead.

I don’t know what I said back to him, I just remember sitting down on the top step and feeling the cold bite of the snow through my pajama pants. There’s a vague recollection of putting my face in my hands, and the embarrassing knowledge that I did that simply because I didn’t know what else to do. And dad just stood there, nervously stepping from foot to foot in the snow, because he didn’t know what else to do either.

I think I asked How at some point. He said he didn’t know. He had something in his pocket but to this day I don’t know what it was.

I don’t know if it was important. Something tells me it was. Or maybe it was just the eternally present handkerchief he always kept on him.

I’m sorry, he said again. He seemed to feel like it was his fault somehow. I’m sorry.

What do we do? I asked him. I’ve never felt more blank. What are we supposed to do?

I don’t remember what he said, other than he was going to get my older brother. I remember thinking that was a good idea. Robbie would know what to do. He always did. Brash and blustery and bigmouthed, he got things done while other people stood around debating how to do them. He would get on it, whatever needed doing. He would figure it out.

I went back in the house and dad walked away, headed down the path through the woods that connected my house to Robbie’s, hands still shoved deep in his pockets, the big retro vintage Chrysler emblem on the back of his jacket the last thing I saw before I pulled the screen door shut. I stared down for a minute at the mound of snow it had scooped into my livingroom, still with no clue what I was supposed to do.

No clue at all.

I kicked the snow back outside and shut the door.

----------

It’s an odd thing, watching the coroner’s van drive away with someone you know inside it. Someone you saw just yesterday. Someone who was alive. Someone who should still be alive but isn’t, somehow. And since there’s really no way to earn a ride in a coroner’s van without dying, there’s an awful unsettling sensation to it that you can’t get away from. The last time I saw James he was laughing that devious little laugh of his, his eyes red and bloodshot from the ever present asthma he’d suffered with his entire life. I don’t count the sight of the coroner’s van leaving the hill via our long steep driveway with his cold corpse tucked into a black zippered bag, because I didn’t see him. I never saw him. I didn’t see him dead in his house and I didn’t see them carry him out, I didn’t see them put him in the van. I didn’t see him later, when it was all over with. And if I try hard enough I can imagine that van empty, with that long black bag tossed crumpled in the back without a body in it, and James somewhere else living his life however the hell he pleases.

I hold onto that. Some days it helps. And some days I think I see him, walking by the side of the road or getting out of a car in the post office parking lot, and it makes me happy thinking he escaped. I see him in every hitchhiker, in every wandering traveler making his way down the interstate, in every tall thin man I glimpse from the corner of my eye as I go about my business in town.

He’s out there.

I hope he’s happy.

The ice storm hit the next day.

----------

For the next two weeks we were stuck on our hill. Power out, no electricity, no heat, no lights, roads iced over and impassable. We all piled up in mom and dad’s house, quietly grieving James, trying to stay warm. Most of the state lost power for days, including the city 150 miles away where his body had been taken to the state coroner’s office. There was no apparent cause of death, so the state ordered an autopsy.

His body had just been placed into cold storage to wait its turn when the power grid went down. And then, by some unholy stroke of nightmarish luck, the facility’s generators failed.

Nobody could make it in to work because of the ice. By the time someone finally got into the morgue the cold storage had been down for four days.

Six bodies melted, including James.

----------

No viable autopsy could be done, though they tried their best I suppose. The end report was obtained two months later. It was mostly inconclusive due to the long delay and resultant decomposition of tissue. There was apparent scarring on James’ heart, but it was old scarring and had nothing to do with his death. His lungs were scarred as well, but that was no surprise, he’d had severe asthma his entire life. There was no determinable cause of death, no inflicted trauma, no presence of illicit drugs as far as they could tell from the limited toxicology report they managed with what they had to work with.

No reason.

He’d simply died.

It seemed fitting, to me at least, that the end of him be enshrouded in an unsolvable mystery. He was a secretive person, intensely private. He would have loved knowing nobody had a clue what happened to him.

And so we drew our own conclusion as a family. He’d had an asthma attack in his sleep. There had been an inhaler next to his bed, but it was new and still in the box. He simply hadn’t woken up to use it. Dad didn’t participate in the drawing of this conclusion, his input kept stoically to himself, like he knew something the rest of us didn’t.

We pretended not to see it.

He and mom braved the last of the ice a few days later to make the 150 mile drive to see James one last time.

They came back different.

You couldn’t tell it was him, my mother said. He was melted, literally. It was like one of those science fiction movies where they melt you with a laser beam and you turn to goo.

Dad had nothing to say. He went to bed and stayed there until the next day.

You can go see him, mom told me. I’ll go with you if you want to go. But I don’t recommend it.

I decided not to go.

And so I never saw my brother dead. I never saw any proof that he was gone. He just wasn’t there anymore. There was no funeral, he was cremated and his ashes were sent home weeks later, and I went on with my life with the image in my head of James, alive, somewhere else.

----------

Dad was different from that day on. He’d always been stoic, terse, strict. My childhood had been spent in fear of him, an eternal dread of making him mad and feeling his temper erupt keeping me from showing any hint of a personality during my formative years. The cult had forced him to abide by the violent tenet of Spare the rod, spoil the child and there was never any risk of me being spoiled.

James being gone flipped a switch in him. He was nicer suddenly. Mellow. Kind. After the trauma wore off his humor discovered itself and he was funny. The dour angry demeanor fell off and revealed a man that I was sad never to have known before. He and I became friends. I could sense in his new attitude toward me that he regretted how he’d raised me and respected the way I’d always stood up and been my own person despite it. But my mother was falling off the deep end and for all the newfound easygoingness of my father, she counterbalanced it with an extremism born of the religious fervor of a mother determined to gain enough favor with God to see her dead child again. And she was going to make sure the rest of us did too.

We all had to get good and straight on the path, get completely right and stay that way, or we’d never see James again. He’d be in the New World and we wouldn’t, and how would she explain that to him? She and I worked together in a law office at the time and as she became more unhinged and unpleasant, I reacted by becoming more outgoing and accomplished. Our boss changed my work designation from receptionist to Executive Assistant and started teaching me how to do everything from filing papers at the courthouse to photographing accident scenes. I no longer answered to my mother, the office manager. I answered directly to the boss.

That didn’t go over well. She was a control freak with heavy untreated trauma, and the one person in the world she felt the most obsessive need to control was suddenly no longer under her thumb in a workspace where she considered herself the supreme authority. She countermanded every order the boss gave me and tried to load me up with general office chores that left me no time to do the important assignments he’d given me. I had no choice but to tell her she wasn’t my superior anymore.

She chose that day to have her nervous breakdown over James, jumping out of my car at a red light on the way home and storming angrily through a shopping mall with me trailing frantically along behind her, yelling for security to arrest me while I tried to get her to calm down. I ended up telling her she wasn’t the only person who lost James but that none of the rest of us were allowed to experience our own grief because we were too busy catering to hers.

She sat down on a bench outside the sporting goods store and glared at me with a cold hatred I’ve seen on very few other faces, ever.

I knew it would be you, she hissed at me.

That moment changed our relationship forever. It changed me forever. That was the day I decided my life was my own, that she not only didn’t have authority over me at work, she didn’t have authority over me anywhere else either. She could no longer dictate my actions, my behavior, my thoughts and feelings.

For this she disowned me. It was the first of several disownings over the next few years. I got used to it. We went to work the next day like nothing had happened, and I didn’t do a single thing on the task list she slapped down on my desk. It was a metaphor for the rest of my life, but I didn’t know it yet.

My husband and I moved out of state a couple of months later, away from that hill, away from her increasingly controlling paranoia and bitterness, the first of many small steps toward freedom.

As we were driving away with our trailer full of personal belongings behind us, he said one thing that I tried to argue against, but that somewhere deep inside I knew was probably right.

That land is cursed, he said.

----------

A few weeks before we moved my youngest brother came to town and we went into James’ house together. It was exactly like it had been the day my dad found him. The only thing that stood out as different was the bare mattress on the bed - the men from the coroner had wrapped him up in the sheet he’d been laying on and took it with them, leaving just the naked springform mattress James had bought for Jessica right before her final breakdown and their subsequent separation.

It took me a while to go in the bedroom, but I knew from the moment I walked into the house that I was going to end up there. I needed to see it, the place where James had closed his eyes and left us.

There was a small puddle of dried blood near the foot of the bed, brown and stained into the fabric. James always slept backwards, with his head at the wrong end. The blood had come from his nose.

I touched it. I don’t know why. It was dry.

He was gone.

----------

David and I laughed a lot that day. James had been funny in a way that was distinctly him, quiet and of few words, but those words had always counted. And as we sorted through his things and talked about him and moved some of his stuff into boxes to be stored away, I felt as much awed respect as befuddlement at what was around me. He’d never been a conformist, which I knew was why the cult had never gotten a firm grasp on him. He was unknowable and therefore unbindable. But his house was proof that he didn’t conform to any human expectations either, and nothing in it made sense unless you’d spent time around him.

There was an engine in the bathtub. I’m not sure what it went to. Another engine, in the beginning stages of disassemblage, rested on a blue tarp in the center of the livingroom floor, obviously the last project he’d been working on. There wasn’t much furniture - his wife had taken most of it when she left and it would have never entered his mind to replace any of it. Jessica’s cookware was in the kitchen cabinets, unused, some of it still in the original boxes, some not even fully unwrapped from their wedding shower years before. Jessica didn’t cook, she microwaved. David asked me if I thought it would be okay for him to take a glass Pyrex measuring cup because he’d broken his. I told him to take it. It had never been used.

I didn’t want anything, but knew I needed to take something. One of my husband’s solo CDs was sitting on the entertainment center and the cover, the cover I’d designed, caught my eye and brought me to the CD player to pop the tray open.

Inside was a CD single of The Way.

It was the only thing I took.

----------

My husband told me some time later that my dad and older brother had altered the scene before the police arrived. After the phonecall from me his boss had rushed him home and he’d gone up to James’ house without my knowledge. He’d thought it strange that he’d had to step around at least a dozen empty compressed air cans scattered haphazardly around the place as he entered, like they’d been used and tossed aside one after another. There had been several more on the floor around the bed. My father had told him to go back down and see how mom and I were doing, and when he returned to James’ house after the coroner’s departure, the cans were gone. Other than that he said things seemed different, but he couldn’t say quite how. Just not the same.

He told me my dad didn’t call the police until after he and Robbie had been in there at least an hour, alone with the body.

It’s not something we’ve talked about often, because there’s no satisfactory explanation for it that either of us can come up with. My mother says they probably didn’t want the police to assume the cans meant he was huffing compression fluid and accidentally killed himself, because Look at the shame and reproach that would bring on the congregation if anyone thought such a thing! We all knew he used the compressed air to clear the valves on the engines he was working on, all mechanics do, it’s common. Wouldn’t the police have accepted that explanation? Dad was the only one that spoke to them. They wrote down whatever he said, and then they left, and then the coroner came and took James away and that was that. My father, the most upright straight-and-narrow devoutly dedicated man I’ve ever known in my life, misled the police for a reason that he took with him to his own grave.

The only other person in the world who knew the truth about it took it to his grave too.

At the same time.

In the same car.

Four years later, on October 18, 2002.

----------

The big garbage bag of empty air cans and whatever else that was removed from James’ house that morning had been stashed in my dad’s garage and stayed there until a few weeks after he and Robbie’s joint funeral, when my mother asked my husband’s old boss to come and dispose of it. Scott was a man who knew people who could do things.

The evidence, whatever it was evidence of, vanished.

----------

The mystery around James never dissolved and eventually no one talked about it anymore, I guess because there was no way we could ever truly find out what happened without him here to tell us. There were a lot of details that we could never find a way to weave together into anything that made sense and a lot of it was probably inconsequential anyway. There was a girlfriend that he’d tried to keep hidden from us, a woman that was quite a bit older than him who wasn’t a member of the cult and therefore needed to be kept a secret. In the end she had convinced him to stop hiding their relationship and he’d bought her a ring. We met her all of twice before he died, and within days of his passing she left town with her brother and never came back, taking whatever she might have known with her.

James’ ex Jessica had sneaked onto the hill and broken into his house to put a dead raccoon in his kitchen sink a few days prior to his death. We were shocked when he told us she trespassed on the land often without anyone knowing, and my mother made my father fix the electric gate down at the road so that it wouldn’t open without one of three clickers in the possession of herself, my father, and me. James would have to come to her house and get hers any time he needed to leave the hill, an arrangement he agreed to because Jessica stole things from his house all the time, she would absolutely take a gate opener if she saw it.

He told us the gate wouldn’t keep her out though, and that she didn’t come in that way anyway. The only way to protect ourselves from her was to lock her up and he doubted even that would do it.

He died less than a week later, and twenty three years later we still don’t know how or why.

----------

We never felt safe on the hill again. Jessica was deranged in the worst possible way, we’d known it for a while, and James was her obsession. She’d threatened to kill him multiple times and had tried twice. We hadn’t known this, because James, big strong stoic Clint Eastwood type that he was, wasn’t about to tell anyone he was violently abused for years by a skinny little woman that everyone believed was not much more than a meek dormouse with shyness issues and a case of painful awkwardness. But we knew she was evil. We just didn’t have any proof.

The first thing my mother said after the initial emotional breakdown of finding her son dead was Jessica did this, I don’t know how but I know she did it.

I believe she was probably right. But if Jessica was anything she was wily and devious with a strong survival instinct and an uncanny ability to lie convincingly and draw sympathy onto herself. She’d convinced us for years that she was the perfect combination of sweetly harmless and endearingly clueless, but that only lasted until the day she called 911 screaming that James was beating her and then threw herself face first into a tree in their front yard and sat, calmly singing and coloring in a coloring book on the porch with blood running down her forehead, waiting for the police to arrive. The act she put on when they got there was one for the Academy, but the officers didn’t buy it.

James calmly rolled up his sleeves and showed them his scars where she’d burned him and slashed him with a kitchen knife. He pulled up his shirt and pointed out the marks she’d left on him with her teeth and nails. He hooked a finger into his mouth and showed them the empty hole where she’d knocked one of his teeth out with a baseball bat. One of the officers asked him why he hadn’t killed her and buried her somewhere on the land already.

She left in the back of the squad car, and my mother took James to the courthouse to get divorce papers started two days later.

Jessica came to his memorial service when we finally had it, several weeks after his death. She wasn’t invited but we couldn’t keep her from coming. She wore black like a widow and created a dramatic disruption complete with loud wailing and declarations of undying love, and afterward she stood to one side of the room, smirking at us with the kind of icy malice that you only see on the dangerously deranged, and then usually only in the movies. Several people commented in hushed voices, asking why she’d been allowed to come. At one point she started wailing They killed him!!, but everyone with the exception of her mother ignored her.

Her mother, who was still in our congregation, flitted around the room chatting with everyone, sobbing her heart out like it was her own son we’d just memorialized. She was an ER nurse and had been famously fired from her job at the hospital for taking locked-cabinet medications home by the purse load. She claimed she put them in her pocket to use on her shift and forgot to return them to the cabinet before leaving.

Jessica had been staying with her for a while.

----------

We fed the crowd at mom’s later that afternoon with my husband and his boss guarding the gate, making sure she didn’t try to come into my mother’s house. The police were called preemptively, and because this was a town of 300 with not much of anything else to do, a squad car was dispatched and stationed near the inlet to the main drive.

Jessica showed up not much later, like we knew she would. She drove past the police and parked a few yards down from them in plain sight, just sitting there by the side of the road, far enough away from our property that we couldn’t legally do anything about it. The officers got out and talked to her, warned her not to cause us any problems, and she fed them a woeful tale about being banned from her beloved husband’s memorial service and denied the right to say goodbye to him.

The officers knew there was no body at that service to say goodbye to. They also knew her.

My husband came up the hill and told us she was down at the road and that Scott was blocking the driveway with his truck to keep her out. I told my mother it was time to file a restraining order against her. She was living in fear and Jessica was known to be trespassing on our property frequently. No, she told me with tears in her eyes but not a sign of distress on her face. It was a look I knew, because my mother rarely showed emotion unless she was angry and the rest of the time it was this cold detachment. That would bring reproach on the congregation because everyone knows what we are. I can’t do that. I won’t let her win that way. I won’t let her cause us to bring shame on God’s name.

God’s name. I took it in vain that day.

More than once.

I was leaving in a few weeks, moving a thousand miles away. My husband and I weren’t going to be there to help her keep an eye out, and thirty eight acres of heavily wooded land is impossible to protect and easy to sneak onto from a hundred different directions, James had shown us proof of that.

God will protect us as long as we do the right thing and leave it to him, she said. He knows what she is.

I think it was just a coincidence that nothing terrible happened in the following weeks, because my faith was getting tenuous and a lot of prayers were going unanswered. But Jessica quietly disappeared back to her own world after a couple of infuriating weeks of putting herself in our paths every chance she got, and not long after that my husband and I moved away, and as we left the driveway for what we thought would be the last time he sighed and shook his head with the exasperation of a man about to say I told you so.

“That land is cursed,” he said.

I tried to disagree, though I don’t know why.

----------

Less than a mile up the road we passed a man walking. He was tall and thin and covered in the dust of a long journey with a ratty backpack strapped to his back, and as we passed him I caught his reflection in the side mirror.

It was James, I knew it in my heart every bit as strongly as I knew it couldn’t be.

He was walking away from the hill, toward the west. The way we were going. And I swear on whatever holy relic you wish to place under my hand that he raised his head and met eyes with me in the mirror, and he smiled.

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purrincess-chat · 3 years

Text

Cat’s Not-All-Encompassing Character Ranking

Okay, so I have to admit that I omitted a lot of characters I don't have strong opinions on. Most of them were one-off akumas, so don't get your panties in a twist, your faves are probably still on here (and ranked lower than you think).

As a preface again, these are just my personal opinions. They can't hurt you. You can still like characters more or less than me. And I don't care how you feel about them. This list is for me. And the person that asked for it. So shut up. Go make your own rank list if you’re so butthurt.

We're going in reverse order this time, starting from the bottom:

84. Gabriel Agreste- I mean, is anyone surprised? I am not private about how I think Gabriel should go to jail. Or fall off a cliff. Or be erased from existence. Rip to those that like him, but I’m different.

83. Thomas Astruc- Honestly, he’s down here on principle. Self-inserts are generally a no-no, and I just laugh every time I see him on screen because he really put himself in this show and said boohoo no one appreciates me XD

82. Bob Roth- I feel like this one should also be obvious. He’s just a dick. Terrible human. I give him 0 stars.

81. Tomoe Tsurugi- We all collectively hate her, right? It’s not just me?

80. Su Han- This mans has small peepee energy. And he bad mouthed Fu, so get FUCKED, my dude.

79. Rolland Dupain- Listen, I get it, he liked Marinette in the end, but I could do without the racism.

78. Nathalie Sancoeur- My opinion of Nathalie took a nosedive after the s2 finale. I just do not care that she is in love with her boss. Don’t care that she’s dying. Just do not have it in me.

77. XY- Justin Bieber ass wannabe.

76. Nora Cesiare- I didn’t care for Nora. I know Thomas loves her, but the overbearing sibling trope is tired.

75. Anarka Couffaine- I underestimated how much I don’t really like her. Like, it’s not full-on hate, but I just do not care for her.

74. Otis Cesaire- Got akumatized because a kid said he could outrun a panther. I’m still not over it, Otis.

73. Andre Bourgeois- No love for the crooked mayor. I hope your wife divorces you.

72. Alec Cataldi- The real villain of Stormy Weather. Like fr why is he such an asshole?

71. Roger Raincomprix- Is Officer Roger just doing his best? Sometimes. But like sometimes this mans just needs to take a chill pill.

70. M. D'Argencourt- Please get out of the 1600s

69. Ella/Etta- These two are basically the same character, and I am indifferent to both of them.

68. KnightOwl/Barbara- Listen, I would have liked you more if you were less controlling.

67. Majestia- Same as above, but like I guess I like you more

66. Theo- *Mean Girls principal voice* Stay away from underaged girls!

65. Andre the ice cream man- I just want a scoop of chocolate, Andre. Is that too much to ask??

64. Amelie Graham de Vanily- We haven’t seen much of her, but she seems like a snake bitch.

63. M. Kubdel- I mean, if my son wanted to resurrect an ancient mummy and believed in aliens, I’d give the family heirloom to my daughter too.

62. Jalil Kubdel- Lolol, buddy, pal, dude, my guy. Chill.

61. Vincent (Adrien's photographer)- Head empty. Mom’s spaghetti. Idk he’s alright.

60. Manon- I don’t hate Manon. She just gets on my nerves every time she talks.

59. M. Ramier- This mans got akumatized a billion times because he gets emotional about pigeons. I mean, honestly mood.

58. Mme. Mendeleiev- She doesn’t put up with Chloe’s shit, and we respect her for this.

57. Baby August- Someone just give this mans some food. He’s a growing boy.

56. Santa Claus- If I were Santa, I too would list Ladybug as the best kid in the world.

55. Art Teacher- He doesn’t even have a name, but I vibe with him. He seems like he likes to paint scenes of nature with his pet squirrels.

54. Prince Ali- Lil mans just wanted to have a good time. I can respect that.

53. Duusu- Duusu, I get that your Miraculous was broken, but get with the program, girl. You is a hostage.

52. Other Kwamis- Idk, all the ones we haven’t seen as much. I don’t have real opinions on them yet. Just neutral.

51. Sass- He gives me dad vibes.

50. M. Damocles- You go, you funky owl man

49. Jean (Chloe's Butler)- He deserves a raise. What is your name, sir? We may never know.

48. Mireille Caquet- She’s pretty cute. No complaints.

47. Aurore Beaureal- Baby’s first akuma. I love her design. She’s a cutie.

46. Claudie Kante (Max’s mom)- This womans just wanted to go to space and live her dream. We stan a hardworking queen.

45. Hot Dog Dan- I like him more than Andre the ice cream fraud. Sure, my hotdog might turn me purple, but if I ask for chili on it, I bet he’d oblige.

44. Nadja Chamack- I mean, she’s doing her best.

43. Audrey Bourgeois- So, as I said in the episode ranking, I have a love-hate relationship with Audrey. She’s the worst, but that’s why I love her. I love her ironically. Like, yeah she’s atrocious, but I just want to watch her burn the world.

42. Luka Couffaine- Directly in the middle, like he’s always been.

41. Nathaniel Kurtzberg- My opinion of Nath improved after Reverser surprisingly. I ship it.

40. Chris Lahiffe- I like Chris better than Ella/Etta. He’s just a little mans out here living life wanting to grow up. Don’t believe it, Chris. Stay little forever. Being an adult suuuuucks.

39. Fang the Crocodile- The goodest boy.

38. Nooroo- I just want to give him a hug.

37. Mlle. Bustier- She’s doing her best, but I mean, when ya whole class keeps getting turned into supervillains, I’m surprised she’s not an alcoholic.

36. Penny Rolling- I just like her. I think she’s neat.

35. Ondine- Mermaid queen! She’s so sweet, and I love her with Kim. I hope we see more of her in the future.

34. Marc Anciel- Marc is a little cutie bean. Idc if he’s based off one of Thomas’s irl friends. He can stay.

33. Wayzz- He loves Master Fu so much I cry.

32. Felix Graham de Vanily- I know everyone hates canon Felix, but tbh he exudes massive chaotic neutral gremlin energy, and I actually kinda vibe with that. And he pisses with his uncle which is a whole ass mood.

31. Tikki- Tikki is very cute, but bby please work on the preaching. You don’t always know what’s right, babe.

30. Sabrina Raincomprix- Sabrina deserves better. I hope we see good things happen for her.

29. Lila Rossi- Surprised? I actually like Lila. The first fic I ever wrote for this fandom was a Lila redemption. I think she is a good antagonist and foil to Marinette. I absolutely want to see her get dunked on in canon, but that doesn’t mean I hate her.

28. Wayhem- I don’t know why, but Wayhem makes me laugh. I love him XD

27. Uncle Cheng- He’s just a good mans with a birb who wants to make you tasty food. What’s not to like?

26. Trixx- Trixx shot up after GoS. Chaotic bean make Eiffel Tower go bendy

25. Jess- She’s pretty cool. She’s a vibe.

24. Aeon- The cutest bean!!! She saw Adrien and Marinette and said yep. Those two are meant to be together. Jess, we gotta make it happen.

23. Ivan Bruel- Ivan is such a gentle bean. We love him.

22. Mylene Haprele- Smol

21. Fei Wu- I still have not watched the Shanghai special with subs, but I liked her.

20. Gina Dupain- The grandma I aspire to be.

19. Marianne Lenoir- I love her. She is good. She and Fu are so cute. And she seems like she would have kicked le ass back in the day. (and even now)

18. Rose Lavillant- I am so excited for Pigella!! Rose is too cute. We love her.

17. Gorilla- aka Adrien’s real dad. If the series doesn’t end with Gabriel getting yeeted into the stratosphere and Gorilla adopting Adrien, I don’t want it.

16. Clara Nightingale- She’s in love with Marinette. You can’t change my mind. 16 is also how old I hc her to be, so don’t nobody come for me.

15. Tom Dupain- Most. Supportive. Dad. Soft bean. Just wants to make you fresh bread.

14. Sabine Cheng- Good mom vibes. We love to see her.

13. Juleka Couffaine- Shy goth bean. Just wants to have her picture taken. Definitely a lesbian. We stan.

12. Nino Lahiffe- The goodest boy. He’s just out here doing his best, loving his friends.

11. Chloe Bourgeois- Chloe is another one I have a love-hate relationship with. Her brattiness is funny to me. We had high hopes for her. Honestly, she ranks this high because I like to play with her in fic.

10. Max Kante- He smol and smort. And I adore his friendship with Kim and the fact that he made an AI himself at 14. What a legend.

9. Alya Cesaire- Rip to Alya salters, but I’m different. Outside of Chameleon, Alya is fine. She’s a supportive bff. All yall people that are mad she doesn’t kiss Marinette’s ass all the time need to go out and make real friends. I said what I said.

8. Alix Kubdel- I love Alix. I love how she is always so done with all the lovey-dovey bullshit. She is tiny queen, and Bunnix, while OP af, is still super cool. We love to see her.

7. Kagami Tsurugi- I will fight anyone who shits on Kagami. She has done nothing wrong, you guys are just haters. All she did was exist, and yall said, wow what a toxic bitch?? Disgraceful.

6. Jagged Stone- We are going to ignore the deadbeat dad trope that canon thrust upon him. He is a Marinette stan, and we love that.

5. Kim Le Chien- I really love Kim, you guys. Does that surprise you? Listen, my favorite male character types are sweet beans and himbos. Kim is both of these.

4. Master Fu- If you didn’t pick up on how much I love Fu from the episodes ranking, then idk what to tell you. I want him to be my grandpa. I would trust this mans with my life. He did his best. You paint those pictures, you funky little man. I love you.

3. Plagg- My galaxy trash man. Love him. 10/10 chefs kisses all around.

2. Adrien Agreste- The biggest Marinette stan there is. I just want him to kiss her on the face. And marry her. Idk, I just think that would be neat if he could do that. I just want good things for them.

1. Marinette Dupain-Cheng- Honestly, are you surprised? I have always been and always will be a Marinette stan. If you expected anyone else to be in this spot, then clown suit rentals are off to the left.

#cat speaks #cat spoils #character ranking #okay fr tho dont ever ask me for anything ever again #take your complaints to your dashboard button and off my blog #idc if you dont like my ranks #theyre not for you #heck off

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scatterpatter · 3 years

Note

Corren - 1 through 100 - You did this to yourself.

FUCK YOU *UN-IRONICS YOUR ASK*

UNDER THE FUCKING CUT

1. What do they smell like?

Bad. Do you think their party is able to regularly take showers? I thinketh the fuck not. ... Pine and old books when he can self care tho.

2. What is their voice like?

Listen I know Corren, being taller, would be more likely to have a deeper register but you'll tear "tenor Corren" out of my cold dead hands

3. What is their biggest motivator?

Spite.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory?

When he first met his BFF Alondra, he was so antisocial and good at ignoring people that she actually got the impression he might have been hard of hearing. She never let him live that down. (one day I'll finish this fic i promise)

5. How do they deal with/react to pain?

"I will keep all of my pain in here, and one day I'll die." ... Okay but listen he's squishy so he takes like one hit and is bloodied up. Someone get him a healer. Pls.

6. What do they like to wear?

He likes his cloak. Its weighty and soft(well. WAS soft. got a bit of wear and tear these days.) and like. Who doesnt love cloaks.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively?

Ohhhhh fuuuccck this one's tough. I might have to go with Torvid honestly. While the entire party has had a positive impact on him(and trust me I was this close to picking Alistair), Torvid's been more of the one to call him out on his bullshit and to, oh I don't know, talk about your emotions? Ever??? Yknow BEFORE they become too much to handle and he absolutely breaks down???

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

Alistair's cooking.

9. Describe the way that they sleep.

Good luck finding him NOT cuddled up with at least one dog. Tbh he just enjoys cuddles in general.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food?

FUCKIN. GIVE HIM A GOOD STEAK. THIS BOY IS MOSTLY CARNIVORISTIC.

11. What do they feel most insecure about?

As tempted as I am to say "His cooking", it's actually his singing.

12. How do they like to dress?

"Comfort over flashiness tbh. I gotta go ADVENTURING in whatever I wear after all."

"... Also don't you DARE perceive me as cishet."

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt?

Call him a genie because he will BOTTLE THAT SHIT UP.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal?

Denial :D

15. What is their greatest achievement?

Shrike: Killing his dad

Me: NOOOOOO

EDIT: WAIT THIS WAS ANSWERED IN Q99 WHAT THE HECK

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

Somehow more of a dick than usual. Snappy and cranky and just. Mrehhh.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk?

Doesn't get drunk often, but when he does I imagine he's actually giggly and a little clingy. It's cute :)

18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

*Opens my Corren playlist* Oh yeah. It's either full edgy alt rock or indie alt "depressed millenial" tracks.

19. Are they right or left handed?

FFFuuhhhhck uhhhh well

Looking over my old art I can't seem to pick a dominant hand(I've even drawn him handling his sniper with either hand???????????) so like oops guess he's ambidextrous.

20. Fears?

The dark, the ocean, dying alone and forgotten, his friends losing their trust of him

21. Favorite kind of weather?

Rain!!!! Especially cool rain like what people often get in fall months.

22. Favorite color?

Indigo!!!

23. Do they collect anything?

Books :3

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more?

Cold weather by far.

25. What is their eye color?

Electric blue!

26. What is their race/ethnicity?

Well his race is a homebrew race known as Marelienth. Uhhh ethnicity? Idk he's from a mountain town way up north *shrugs*

In human aus I imagine him as half-Mongolian half-Norwegian so ayee

27. Hair color?

Black!

28. Are they happy where they are currently?

No :D He loves adventuring with his party don't get me wrong but he still has a lot of trauma to unpack. ... Also he was just possibly broken up with soooo. :/

29. Are they a morning person?

NOPE.

30. Sunrise or sunset?

*motions to above question* Sunset.

31. Are they more messy or more organized?

More organized, actually!

32. Pet peeves?

*unravels a list. It's all shit the party has done. Mostly Alistair.*

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance?

HOOUSIDSJFK- HE- Y-YEAH HE SURE DOES

His amethyst pendant used to belong to his brother, Julian, and he gave it to Corren right before they were separated so you BET it's sentimental as shit and he wears it daily.

34. Least favorite food?

Mecha's usually a great cook but one time trolled him with some absurdly spicy curry he couldn't handle and he's never forgiven them.

35. Least favorite color?

Hmmm. Maybe... yellow?

36. Least favorite smell?

He spent a year with his party in a damp cave and no showers, so uh. I'll give you a guess.

37. When was the last time they cried?

Literally last night in our game's timeline :D Full breakdown and everything!

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried?

Torvid :D He was there to comfort

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured?

One time they were in combat and Corren took a few hits and was down to about 2hp or so. He had a temporary level thanks to Kieran, which boosted his HP a little bit. When he teleported them to a safe town, though, well... Torvid was waiting for them so that's cool. But uh. Yeah that temporary level wore off then and there, dropping Corn Cob to exactly 0hp and he just- flopped down face first in the snow and started dying then and there KJNDKLFNSLKN

40. Do they have any scars?

Do you want to talk about the scar over his eye from a fight he got in with his dad or like. The scars on his limbs from the time he was literally experimented on.

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues?

Undiagnosed+Untreated Anxiety, Depression, DPDR, PTSD, just to name a few

42. Do they have any bad habits?

Running away from his problems, definitely.

43. Why might someone dislike them?

He's a pretentious nerd. He can be a dick if he doesn't care about you.

44. Why might someone love them?

He's an adorable nerd! He's a hopeless romantic and oddly enough an optimist. He's passionate and driven too!

45. Do they believe in ghosts?

Well ghosts are like- a canon proven thing in his world sooo. Yeah.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives?

His party. Well- most in his party.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone?

Nethyl :)

48. Are they dating/married to anyone?

He's dating Nethyl and they're in a happy and healthy relationship :) *politely ignores canon*

49. Do they like surprises?

NO >:(

50. When is their birthday?

Heroya 5th! I think. I don't wanna check, assume it's this.

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

"You guys celebrate your watchdays?"

Jokes aside, he mainly just treats himself to a nice dinner and a new book or something :)

52. Do they have any family?

Two older siblings: Julian and Mila. His parents are Andreas and Fanya!

53. Are they close to their family?

... *Coughs*. He was close with his siblings, but Mila died and he hasn't seen Julian in 30 years. Was close with his dad but last time they saw each other, they fought and Corren might have killed him so. ... Yeah. :/

54. What is their MBTI type?

FUCK uh. I... N... T... J? INTJ. Sure.

55. What is their zodiac sign?

In Sekrezia: The eagle

In our world: Uhhh. Idk. Capricorn????

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in?

Uhhh. Ravenclaw??? I know almost nothing about HP :/

57. What D&D alignment are they?

THIS ONE'S EASY- lawful neutral!

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about?

Used to have typical nightmares, nothing special. Nowadays though he often dreams of being underwater. Not drowning, though. It's... weird. He doesn't like those.

59. What are their views on death?

He's a necromancer lol.

Death is inevitable, though. It's a necessary part of life. Death is not an entire loss, though. One lives on in the memories others carry of them, in the love they hold in their hearts. Death is complicated, but that's okay.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at?

Alistair :)

61. When bored, how do they pass time?

Dog time :)

62. Do they enjoy being outside?

... Ehhhhhh?

63. Do they have an accent?

Technically??? It's an accent from where he's from but like. I just barely tweak my own voice when I rp him so? Damn Corren I'm sorry you've been cursed with east coast dialect.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

"Damn who's the rich bastard here?" (cake is kinda a delicacy in their world- not like elites only but not NEARLY as common as it is here)

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say?

Reassurance mode to whomever he's with. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm okay. Remember what I told you, death is a natural part of life, yeah? I don't have any regrets, I'm okay... Just. Thanks. For giving me a chance. Thank you. Thank you."

66. How do they feel about sex?

I SWEAR he's allosexual. I'm just bad at writing allosexuals.

67. What is their sexuality?

He doesn't really know how to pin it down, so he just calls himself "queer". Definitely not straight, that's all he knows.

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood?

AHAHA no. He's hella desensitized

69. Is there anything that they find really gross?

Skulking cyst. Look it up at your own volition. It's. NO.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them?

It's 12:21 in the morning and I'm NOT about to scroll through a bunch of tv tropes just. just. NERD stereotype.

71. Do they enjoy helping people?

Yyyyes? Only really if it's the people he cares about.

72. Are they allergic to anything?

Bullshit.

73. Do they have a pet?

WINGTHARA!! HIS SKELE-DOG!!!

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

Oh yeah he's all bark and no bite. He usually just throws a little fit and/or yells.

75. How patient are they?

More than he should be :/

76. Are they good at cooking?

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often?

Oh yes he insults the others all the time. No particular favorite, he likes so spice it up.

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy?

Stim. Stim. Stim. His eyes get all sparkly and he. He.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears?

He will do everything in his power to assure they won't ever have to deal with their fears alone- You afraid of spiders? It's his job to get the spiders from now on so you won't have to deal with them.

80. Are they trustworthy?

Oh yeah. He's like Rapunzel- doesn't break promises.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it?

Oh yes he tries to hide it. And yes, he's awful at it.

82. Do they exercise regularly?

Yes and no? No like- exercise regimen, but the amount of travelling and fighting they do is just- a workout in and of itself

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look?

Yeah! He's cute and he knows it baybie!!!

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people?

He,,, he likes someone who's physically stong,,, Muscles are,,, aaaaa >///>

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive?

Someone he can nerd out with :)

86. Do they like sweet foods?

Impartial to it. He won't turn sweets away but he's not crazy about them either.

87. What is their age?

43, the equivalent of- I think someone in their mid 30s?

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between?

He's 6'8" :) Which is actually normal for his race

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts?

Sometimes! I like to think he has reading glasses or something like that.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive?

HE'S CUTE AND HE KNOWS IT.

91. What is their sense of humor like?

Julian tainted his sense of humor and now he finds the most dumb shit hilarious. Think very millenial/GenZ humor like "I wish I was Jared, 19"

92. What mood are they most often in?

"I don't get paid enough for this" or Fear.jpg

93. What kinds of things anger them?

People who don't keep their FUCKING WORD. Oh and like. Yknow. Half the shit his party does.

94. Outlook on life?

Again he's??? Oddly an optimist? In the "Things will get better and that is a fucking THREAT" way, but still optimist!

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed?

Talk about his family :) Or the fact that his boyfriend might want him dead :)

96. What is their greatest weakness?

He's squishy as fuck. He goes down easy.

97. What is their greatest strength?

He's extremely intelligent and great with magic and his sniper!

98. Something that they regret?

Not doing more to stop his brother when he tried to resurrect their sister

99. Biggest accomplishment?

Either convincing an entire town his name is Torren or accidentally convincing some very OP people that he's secretly a dragon.

100. Create your own!

FUCK YOU I SPENT LIKE 2 HOURS ON THIS. NO PROOFREAD. IVE ALREADY DESIGNED CORREN'S AND NETHYL'S HYPOTHETICAL KIDS. ANYWAYS THEY'RE TWIN IRINAGA AND I'VE NAMED THEM AFTER THE DNDADS TWINS: THEIR NAMES ARE LARK AND SPARROW.

#LONG POST #LONG LONG POST #Corren #FUCK YOU DREWSKI <3

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fictropes · 3 years

Text

oh boy i sure did write many words in 2020

Hi! I am copying people due to i want to. This is a lil (well... 63) round up of all the fics I wrote this year! Cos i’m very evil @ myself and writing fic and think i’m either not doing enough, or not doing it good enough, so i wanna full list of what I actually did so I can see my own accomplishments and can maybe... clap 4 myself for once. And honestly writing has helped MASSIVELY with my depression so.. that’s a bonus.

ALSO. this is a big huge thankyou to everyone! I only joined here + started writing in august and you’ve all been so so nice and welcoming and supportive <333 ;_; and I know they say write for yourself... but honestly peoples comments and excitement about my stuff has just been really, really lovely and I would never have written this much without all of you cheering me on<3.

so here is a list of everything i’ve written, organised by length and everything, so if you find yourself bored over the holidays... have a lil browse. (Sorry if u are on mobile and this doesn’t show as a read more)

Chaptered:

Can we try again? series (M) Complete - 35k - “Yeah, Phil. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dan answers, softer than he’d wanted because he already knows what he’s about to do next.(or Dan doesn't turn up in 2009 and bumps into Phil 11 years later at a youtube convention 2. I like cupcakes, especially the gay variety (M) Complete - 30k - Firstly, Dan was 29. How was that a mature student?Secondly, his actual book was on the university fucking syllabus.(or the one in which Dan tries university again in a desperate attempt to prolong his procrastination, and his lecturer Phil is apparently something of a fan) 3. 7 Letters series (M) Complete - 9k - Your penpal can be the person you live with, actually. 4. There's Beans in Here (T) Complete - 2k - Phil has his wisdom teeth removed; Phil says many questionable things. 5. Roadtrip (E) Complete - 8k - “Exactly. I am right, as always.”“As always.” Dan agrees.Series 6. night shift, please (E) Wip - 27k I PROMISE THIS WILL COME BACK IN 2021 - Ten years and he’ll never get over how early he has to get up sometimes. In all honesty he prefers the night shift. 7. Still Not Calling it Fate (M) Wip - 14k - It’s become a bit of a thing, a bit of a thing that everyone he crosses paths with takes the piss out of him for 8. when i met you, a blue rush began (M) Complete - 5k - They end up in a small restaurant overlooking the sea, everything here is so blue. The sky, the sea, Phil’s eyes, the shirt he’s wearing buttoned up all the way to the top. 9. Luggage Tags (E) Complete - 2.5k - Just because it looks like your suitcase, it doesn't necessarily mean that it is. 10. Demon in the sack (E) Complete - 2.5k - Dan’s leg jiggles beneath his desk, knee hitting the table as he tries to force himself to hang up and ring the number he was supposed to ring— he doesn’t, he can’t. Long ( for me) oneshots (3k+) 11. Electronics and the Phil's who break them (M) Complete - 9k - The first time’s an accident, a proper accident— a Phil forgot how to hold his cup and now he’s watching his coffee seep into his keyboard type accident. 12. A Letter of Specifics (T) Complete - 4k - You'll know it's your soulmate because no one else on earth could be doing what they're doing. 13. The Benefits of A Weak Floor (M) Complete - 4k - He quite literally falls through Dan’s ceiling. 14. 10:35 on a Thursday (E) Complete - 3.7k - He’s tapping his pen against the paper, acting as though he isn’t asking Phil to take a sex quiz at 10:35am on a Thursday morning. 15. 2009, catboys (T) Complete - 3.2k - “You have your own ears, can’t have four.”“Why?” 16. Wrong Room (T) Complete - 3k - “Congratulations!’’ And he was expecting to hear a cry, or at least his mother telling him to be quiet because a certain baby was sleeping. Instead he heard the deep clear of a throat, a rustling of sheets. 2k-3k oneshots 17. Dinner with a stranger (T) Complete - 2.5k - @amazingphl hi! second year of doing this, sooo if anyone has nowhere to go for Christmas dinner I am once again offering..my flat (and by extension me) ;oSeries 18. Easy Lover (M) Complete - 2.4k - ''Yeah. We're always fine.'' It was always fine. It was always easy, despite always behind hard. 19. Cold Season (M) Complete - 2k - Dan is ill, insatiable and another word beginning with I. 1k-2k oneshots 20. Morose men on rooftops (T) Complete - 1.9k - “Dunno, maybe chatting up morose men on roofs is my thing.” He laughs, and it’s a nice noise. 21. Love with tongues of fire (T) Complete - 1.7k - So when Dan waltzed into the room, declaring his hunger Phil thought nothing of it. Just another night for another takeaway. 22. Your Rocks are my Rocks (T) Complete - 1.7k - Phil wants a new rock for Norman, Dan wants a peaceful life. 23. Joint Content (M) Complete - 1.6k - It started of a as a joke— a Joint Content joke. 24. 24/7 Fantasies (M) Complete - 1.5k - He thinks about Dan 24/7, constantly in two separate fantasies 25. A Conversation in Multiple Hallways (T) Complete - 1.5k - You're still here then? 26. Sharing Space (T) Complete - 1.5k - It's 2010 and dan has had a day. 27. The Obvious (T) Complete - 1.5k - "Can I use that?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, already scrawling it beneath the only three words he currently has— I love you. 28. I'm Thinking of Ending Things (T) Complete - 1.5k - Dan hears half a conversation, jumps to one whole conclusion. 29. Love Language of the Tactile (T) Complete - 1.4k - “I’m just— that’s a hypothetical.” Dan leans in this time, takes the touches that Phil always so freely gives away. “Can’t kiss in secret rooms if I leave.” 30. Don't Let the Self-Doubt Ruin You (T) Complete - 1.3k - “I’m here.” “Yeah, you’re here.” 31. Conflict Resolution (T) Complete - 1.3k - Following recent events we’ve decided it best we take a combative approach to your current workplace issues, we have booked you into a conflict resolution class this Thursday afternoon - we will not be paying you to attend. 32. when it comes to love (i want a slow hand) (E) Complete - 1.2k - And there it is, the refusal of anything in return. This is just for Dan and it always will be. 33. You're Still The one (T) Complete - 1.1k - “What’re you thinking about?” “You.” 34. Teach Me, Dad. (T) Complete - 1k - "Do you think I could be the next Mozart?” 35. The Logistics of a Clone (M) Complete - 1k - “I don’t think that’s a clone, though, like maybe more of a Doppelgänger.” Dan doesn’t know why they’re delving so deep into this, why he’s so damn bothered about being right. “It’s just literally you.” 36. All's fair in Love and Monopoly (T) Complete - 1k - Phil does not play by the rules, Dan lets him win anyway. Under 1k oneshots 37. Hide out in your heart (E) Complete - 0.9k - The second time Dan comes to visit it’s different. 38. Oh, there you are. (G) Complete - 0.9k - So after all this, after everything, he doesn’t think anything of it when someone else slips into his dms. 39. The Boy has Attitude (T) Complete - 0.9k - “You didn’t tell me you looked like this.”“Like what?”“This!” Phil’s waving a physical copy of the magazine in his face— so that’s where he’d been. 40. Hairties (and how not to use them) (M) Complete - 0.8k - “Why would you do that? Let us settle in, nice and slow and— gently does it.” 41. The Second Apartment. (T) Complete - 0.8k - It’s a stop-gap apartment, a we’re going to get our forever home after this. 42. Japan, 2019. (G) Complete - 0.8k - NO summary, just an obviously I was going to write this after phil's post 43. Doting Man (T) Complete - 0.7k - They’re both drunk, Phil more so— definitely more so.Series 44. Imposter (T) Complete - 0.7k - Among us is.. a bastard. 45. Ratemyprofessors.com (M) Complete - 0.7k - ‘Maybe if that Phil bloke from the English dep he’s always staring at fucked him he’d stop being so uptight’ 46. Failed Attempts (T) Complete - 0.7k - Dan enlists the help of Phil for his latest Instagram. 47. Bonus Prize (M) Complete - 0.7k - Phil Trash Number One 48. Feels like home (G) Complete - 0.7k - Home is where the Phil is. 49. We can make Forever work (T) Complete - 0.7k - It’s a moment of realising forever may sound too much to people, but we’ll get through everything together— we don’t have any other choice. 50. Scene in the Kitchen (T) Complete - 0.7k - New place 51. 4'11 (T) Complete - 0.6k - Dan is baby 52. Pillow Imprints (T) Complete - 0.6k - Dan is a menace, and Phil loves him anyway. 53. Parachute Jacket (T) Complete - 0.5k - Dan thinks Phil is obsessed with them Those few times I thougt I was goddamn Ri**ard S*ken 54. Home (G) Complete - 0.7k - It’s their forever home, because their actual forever lives inside of it. 55. secrets spoken in empty rooms (T) Complete - 1k - So he wants to be the same, but he wants Dan more. 56. Separately Together (T) Complete - 0.9k - Phil’s soft hands and even softer words. It gets harder to leave. Gets to the point where Dan turns off an alarm just so he misses the train. 57. It's not hard to fall (T) Complete - 0.7k - Still a little bit of your words I long to hear Some more Epistolary (apart from 7 letters) 58. A Play in One Act (T) Complete - 1.1k - [Manchester Piccadilly train-station, midday, October 19th, 2009.] 59. R/AITA (T) Complete - 0.8k - AM I THE ASSHOLE FOR MAKING MY BOYFRIEND BE A WORM?Series 60. Lonely Hearts (T) Complete - 1.8k - I will not say you were crying on the tube (out of politeness) 61. Conversations of the Lazy Kind (T) Complete - 1k - eggs? wot? Smells like eggs

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pulledpurplecurtains · 3 years

Note

all the odd ones for the fic questions pls and thank you pepster

all the odd ones, meaning 1, 3 etc right? oh BOY are we gonna be here for a while (and i love it 🥰)

it’s morning right now so let’s see how long throughout the day this is gonna take me sdfghjk let’s do it!!

1) what was the first fandom you got involved in?

hmmmm. i wanna say harry potter, more than a decade ago? specifically dramione and scorose

3) what is the best fandom you’ve been involved in?

for all that it has given me i have to say bechloe

5) which fandoms have you written fanfiction for?

so far just for bechloe

7) list your NoTPs from each fandom you’ve been in

i’m only gonna list pairs i have strong feelings against and from only the fandoms i’ve been most involved in

harry potter: snape and hermione

frozen: elsa and hans (no but for real. why)

pitch perfect: beca and jessie, chloe and chicago

marvel: hm hm surprisingly nothing comes to mind

the haunting of bly manor: same as for marvel

9) what are the best things about your current fandom?

having a space where i can fully be myself, expressing myself freely through my writing, meeting so many wonderful people, having a previously unexplored side of myself revealed to me, finding and delving into characters that make me feel less alone, and so much more. it’s been a real blessing, having this fandom in my life

11) who is your current OTP?

bechloe

(this was the point where tumblr lost me ALL MY ANSWERS FROM QUESTIONS 13 TO 33 so let’s do this again SHALL WE??? i’ll be saving each answer as we go dear god)

13) any NoTPs?

already answered!

15) is there an obscure ship which you love?

hmm i don’t think so? none that comes to mind at least

17) who was your first OTP and are they still your favorite?

my first OTP, before i even knew what an OTP was, was scorpius and rose from harry potter. it’s not still on top of my OTP list, but always has a special place in my heart

19) is there a ship which you wished you could get behind, but you just don’t feel them?

not really? i mean, there are popular ships that i don’t support, like hermione with bellatrix or natasha with wanda for example. i can see their appeal and i get why people like them. they’re just not for me and i’m okay with that

21) what was the first fanfic you ever wrote?

ah my accidental multi chap baby sdfghjkdfg

All is Fair in Love and War was posted as an one shot, and that was all it was supposed to be. it was my first finished written piece. and then a couple of people in the comments were really nice abt sharing thoughts of where the story could go next and what they’d like to see happen, and they were very enthusiastic abt wanting to see more of that story. so the second chapter was born

sooo one thing led to the other and before i knew it that fic had become an 8 chapter, over 60k words story sdfghjkdf i’m amused and grateful to this day

23) name a fic you’ve written that you’re especially fond of and explain why you like it

how can you ask a mother to pick her favorite of her kids HUH

no but for real, i love all of my stories equally. i’m a perfectionist, so nothing gets posted before it’s perfect in my eyes. plus, all my stories are my babies. each has its flaws and imperfections, each in their own ways. but they’re all beautiful and meaningful to me

what i will say is, i have a particular soft spot for (wondering if you knew) i was enchanted to meet you. i truly think my writing peaked in that story, in all the parallels and tiny but very important things that are in there

25) what’s your most popular fanfic?

based on views and kudos, it’s All is fair in Love and War

ofc that’s a multi chap, so maybe the numbers aren’t exactly equivalent to popularity

my most popular one shot, by a very large margin at that, is (i’ll let you in) and baby, that’s when

27) what do you hate more: coming up with titles or writing summaries?

i honestly love coming up with titles

writing summaries, on the other hand, is the bane of my existence

29) do you have a beta reader? why/why not?

i don’t, and it’s bc i’m literally incapable of taking any kind of critique over anything unfinished. once it’s posted and out in the world it’s fair game; but until then? that’s a big no for me

31) what’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about your writing?

i honestly can’t answer this question bc every comment is so so special and important to me. i often go back and read them all. even right now while writing this there are so many different comments swirling around in my head. i appreciate and am grateful for all the kind words always 💜

33) do you write one shots, multi chapters, or huge epics?

sdfghjkk definitely not huge epics

i’ve written both of the other two. in the beginning i preferred and wanted to write multi chapters. however nowadays and for the past year or so, i lean more heavily towards one shots

35) do you write drabbles? if so, what do you normally write them about?

i am physically and mentally incapable of writing short things sdfghjkd so no, i don’t write drabbles

37) first person or third person? what do you write in and why?

always third person. idk the idea of first person narration always seemed weird to me. plus, i see my stories as me retelling the events the characters have confided in me. so third person makes sense and it’s also why i use past tense in my stories

39) what is your greatest strength as a writer?

describing and narrating emotions and using metaphors

41) list and link to five fanfics you’re currently reading

my reader’s block has been going strong, so i’m not reading anything currently unfortunately

43) is there anyone in your fandom who really inspires you?

my squirrels 💜

45) what is your all time favorite fanfic?

i have to say Experimentation i just have to

i also love Perdition, what an incredible piece of writing

47) ao3, ff.net or tumblr - where do you prefer to post and why?

definitely ao3, i just love its interface i guess?

49) do you care if people comment on/ reblog your writing? why/why not?

okay so here’s the deal. ofc i care. every artist who shares their work, every creator, cares; at least to a degree. it’s why we share. we want people to see and love and appreciate our work, we want it recognised and celebrated even. we want people to engage with it, show it to their friends, talk abt it, have thoughts abt it. it’s only natural and ofc i’m absolutely no exception

with that said. i’ve always tried to remind myself that kudos/likes are also engagement. that even just reading is engagement. that everyone’s limit or ability for engagement isn’t the same, and that ultimately it’s their choice how or if they’ll engage with my writing. i try to, and i do, value everyone who even just reads my stories. i share something with the world for free and it’s my choice to do and continue to do so. what happens after that isn’t up to me

so yes i do care a lot abt reblogs and comments. they make me very happy, they validate and encourage me. but people have no obligation, in my eyes at least, to engage with my works a specific way. just like i have no specific obligation to provide a certain type of content on set periods of time or with a set limit of words or to continue to provide stories; or literally any other obligation. no one can police my actions and choices up until i’ve posted a story and i can’t police anyone’s actions or choices after i’ve posted it. and that’s the beauty of fandom for me - we’re all here bc we want to and bc it makes us happy, with no expectations or obligations

ending this with an essay seems only suitable sdfghjkd thank you my egg for giving me the opportunity to talk abt myself in such length 😌💜

#ask #snowonebutyou #ask game #i don’t even know if i did this right sdfghj #but i loved it #btw it’s 6:30pm right now lmao

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allatariel · 3 years

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Author Interview

Birthday Edition

Tagged by @callioope, thanks so much, my friend! (It’s only been nearly 2 months... *runs and hides*)

Name: Alli

Fandoms: Well, for posted works, in descending order from most works to fewest: four Original Work (poems), three Star Wars - All Media Types (which further break down into two Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016) and one Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton), two Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, and one each Last of the Mohicans (1992), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types/TMNT (2007), The Shannara Chronicles (TV), The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, and The Walking Dead (TV).

As for unpublished works, excluding those listed above, I have drafts and notes for stories in: A Song of Ice and Fire, Battlestar Galactica (2003), Beauty and the Beast (1987) (I’ve been obsessing over this particular fandom for months now), Doctor Who/Torchwood, Firefly, Lord of the Rings, Mad Max: Fury Road, Maleficent, Origin (YouTube), The Phantom of the Opera, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Tin Man (2007).

A few other fandoms I haven’t written for but have read and adore: Abhorsen/The Old Kingdom, Alice (SyFy), the Americans, Assassin’s Creed, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Being Human (UK), Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Chalice, City of Ember, the Expanse, Fringe, Hellboy, His Dark Materials, Howl’s Moving Castle, the Hunger Games, Jupiter Ascending, Killjoys, Lost in Space (Netflix), MCU/X-Men, Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, Myst, the Old Guard, Persuasion, Pitch Black/Chronicles of Riddick, the Pretender, the Princess Bride, Pushing Daisies, Resident Evil (movies), Star Trek, Stardust, Stranger Things, Terminator, Underworld, V for Vendetta, Watchemen, Witch Hunter Robin, the X-Files.

Where you post: AO3 (if the format of the above list of posted fandoms didn’t give it away). I have some snippets here on tumblr from unfinished works that will hopefully make it to AO3 one day.

Most popular one-shot: I agonized over how to identify this: kudos, a ratio of kudos to hits? “Catch and Release” with 49 kudos since publishing a year ago today on my last birthday is definitely the most kudos I have ever received, but it has 693 hits. Whereas “I’ve Stumbled My Way Back”, which I published on the same day, has just 12 kudos but that’s with only 99 hits. It’s all relative anyway I suppose. Neither of them can really be called truly popular. Regardless, I’m proud of both of them, even if I’m not happy with the title of the first one.

Most popular multi-chapter fic: That is currently my only multi-chapter fic, Of Scrolls and Sleeping. It has gotten 8 kudos since I reposted it to AO3 in 2016. I originally wrote it in 2003 and posted it to the Sink into Your Eyes archive and the Astronomy Tower that same year. A Radiance That Travels will have more chapters at some point and already has more kudos, 43, in the year since I posted it.

Fic you were nervous to post: Pretty much everything I’ve ever posted. Trollbrain is the worst.

How you choose your titles: Usually I use song lyrics or “clever” wordplay that’s more pun than not, with varying degrees of success and satisfaction on my part.

Do you outline: Kind of, yes. I make a lot of notes on backstory and how I want things to go.

Complete: Complete is a relative term. I have 14 published works. I’d say 8 or 9 of them are complete.

In progress: In progress is also relative. I don’t really consider any of my unfinished works abandoned. I fully intend to finish them one day. When that day will be is anyone’s guess, despite my best intentions.

A Radiance That Travels is intended to be a multi-chapter work and more likely to be updated in the near future (I have a little over 1000 words of chapter two, but they need so much work and I haven’t touched it since April 2020). “I’ve Stumbled My Way Back” was initially supposed to be the first chapter in a longer work, but will more likely be the first work in a series of connected Shannara Chronicles one-shots. “Catch and Release” (I don’t really like this title) was going to be a scene in a longer Last of the Mohicans work but will also probably end up as one in a series of connected one-shots. 4 of my works are officially part of an Unfinished Tales series and are less likely to be completed anytime soon, but I am considering adding more unfinished works that are lower on my priority/interest list at this time.

As for unpublished works in progress, I have roughly 26 documents containing notes and snippets that correspond to the same number of potential works. Motivation is in short supply right now...

Coming soon: T_T Anything, please! I wish my motivation would return from the war...

Do you accept prompts: Well, I am a very slow writer and I hate disappointing people (ADHD/RSD) so I never ask for prompts, but if you don’t mind maybe never getting anything waiting, chat with me about ideas.

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: There is one in particular that @callioope and I started laying groundwork for early last year that I would love to work on. (Thank you for your patience with me.)

Tagging: @skitzofreak, @g-r-a-u, @okaynextcrisis, @weshallflyaway and anyone else who would like to do it! (No pressure!)

#author interview #tag meme #my writing #i made this #it's my birthday #happy birthday to me fic post

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keepyourpantsongohan · 4 years

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Kakashi & Da Boyz: Lab Updates

Introduction

Approximately two years ago, I wrote this pairing lab report which compared Kakashi’s manga interactions with his top five AO3 pairings (excluding sensei/student and original character pairings). Since the numbers have shifted a lot for AO3, here’s what they look like in 2020.

Materials

2018 Lab Report Data

A vague understanding of how math works

A slowly dwindling grip on my own life

Methods

See prior work for methods on manga interaction count as published in Keepyourpantsongohan, 2018.

It is worth nothing in this section why AO3 was chosen rather than FF.net or any other fanfiction website as a point of comparison: AO3 has the ability to filter character relationships by romantic pairings. While FF.net has developed this filter in recent years, its history and use is much more sporadic and would be unlikely to produce a representative sample.

Data

See prior work for raw data of manga interactions as published in Keepyourpantsongohan, 2018. Only total interactions are included as a comparison point.

Total Interactions with Kakashi

Iruka: 4

Obito: 37

*Obito’s interactions with Kakashi under an assumed identity as Tobi: 11

*Total (if including Tobi): 48

Gai: 50

Yamato: 29

Itachi: 6

Total Number of Interactions for Any Pairings Listed Above: 126

*Total: If including Tobi: 137

AO3 Pairing Story Count (as of 08-June-2020)

Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka: 3,453

Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito: 1,808

Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai: 888

Hatake Kakashi/Yamato | Tenzou: 669

Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Itachi: 151

Total Number of AO3 Stories for Any Pairings Listed Above: 6,969

Analysis

Figure 1: All Pairing Interactions by Percentage (exc. Tobi)

Figure 1 Numbers:

Iruka: 3.2%

Obito: 29.3%

Gai: 39.7%

Yamato: 23.0%

Itachi: 4.8%

Figure 2: All Pairing Interactions by Percentage (inc. Tobi)

Figure 2 Numbers:

Iruka: 2.9%

Obito: 35.0%

Gai: 36.5%

Yamato: 21.2%

Itachi: 4.4%

Figure 3: AO3 Pairing Stories by Percentage (as of 08-June-2020)

(Note: Figures 2 and 3 marginally exceed 100% in order to both round and maintain the same degree of accuracy as the previous chart. For Figure 3, all figures will be rounded down to control the excess of 100%.)

Figure 3 Numbers:

Iruka: 49.5% = ~49.0%

Obito: 29.5% = ~29.0%

Gai: 12.7% = ~12.0%

Yamato: 9.6% = ~9.0%

Itachi: 2.2% = ~2.0%

Percentage Difference from Manga Interactions (Fig. 1 Numbers) to AO3 (Fig. 3 Numbers raw data)

Iruka: +46.3%

Obito: +0.2% (or Fig. 2 inc. Tobi: -5.5%)

Gai: -27.0%

Yamato: -13.6%

Itachi: 2.6%

Figure 4: Annual Rate of Growth in Fics from Aug 2018 to June 2020

Overall Increase in Fics on AO3 Since 2018 (Npast - Npresent)

Iruka: 3,453 - 2,298 = 1,155

Obito: 1,808 - 667 = 1,141

Gai: 888 - 391 = 497

Yamato: 669 - 371 = 298

Itachi: 151 - 111 = 40

Annual Rate of Growth (((Npresent - Npast) / Npast x 100) / Number of years)

Iruka: ((1,155) / 2,298 x 100) / 2 years = 25.1%

Obito: ((1,141) / 667 x 100) / 2 years = 85.5%

Gai: ((497) / 391 x 100) / 2 years = 63.5%

Yamato: ((298) / 371 x 100) / 2 years = 40.1%

Itachi: ((40) / 111 x 100) / 2 years = 18.0%

Conclusion

As compared to the 2018 analysis, Iruka, Obito and Gai all got closer to proportionally matching up with their manga interactions, though this is most significant for Obito, who is nearly on par with his manga interaction percentages. In other words, Obito is almost exactly as popular as you might expect him to be based on number of chapter appearances interacting with Kakashi. The annual rate of growth for Obito (85.5%) is also by far the highest. I would be curious to know what factors made this increase so high.

Iruka, like in 2018, is most prevalent as a pairing, and furthest from manga parity (in the positive direction). It is worth noting that the pairing no longer represents the majority in Kakashi’s top five pairings, going from representing 56.7% of fics, to 49.5% of fics. This seems to be a consequence of the rate of growth, because while there were the largest number of fics for Iruka in the past two years (1,155), there was also the second lowest annual growth rate at 25.1%. Even so, the raw numbers do speak to the popularity!

Gai has moved slightly closer to manga parity, with a 2.5% increase in representation. However, the pairing still experiences the largest percentage decrease in presence from manga to AO3. Still, the rate of growth for Gai is significant, being the second highest at 63.5%.

Yamato moved slightly farther away from manga parity, but only by a difference of 0.3%, which means the pairing has more less maintained the same level of popularity as two years ago. The rate of growth is middling, not anywhere near as high as Obito or Gai, but significantly higher than Iruka or Itachi.

Itachi was as almost close to manga parity as possible in 2018, so the pairing will likely only get further away with more fics being written. But as there have been such a small amount written (20 per year) it would be a slow increase in discrepancy.

Having acquainted myself with the commentary on the prior report, it might be theorized that “attractiveness” is a factor in popularity of character ships. However, this premise is flawed, because in my experience as a reader, the act of loving a character makes them handsome. See: The Once-ler phenomenon, as described by Ed Helms on Funny or Die (Fealasy 2012):

“I heard there are people who have a sexual predilection for my character in the Lorax [...] And that is very odd, because he’s not a real person. I do agree, however, that he’s extremely sexy. But I don’t condone sexual fantasy about the Once-ler. I don’t condone it.”

So in this case, we can assume attractiveness is a relative condition, superseded by the way that readers choose to love their characters. Personally, I think it’s very sexy of me to love Tenzo. All this to say, don’t worry about it. Who cares? I just made you read a quote about people wanting to have sex with the Once-ler. Think about that.

The number of fics at the time of my making these charts was 6,969 though, so I think we’re all winners here.

Limitations

As I used the manga interaction counts from 2018, bias in my methodology then is still present here.

In my original calculations, I actually had Obito at 35.8% instead of 35.0% for Figure 2, in a case of human error of inputting 49/137 instead of 48/137 in my calculations. This error has been noted and changed, but the potential for more human error is present in all of my calculations.

I am aware of there being an event going on for Kakashi and Iruka as I write this, so it is possible that by the time this data is analyzed the number of AO3 fics will have increased.

I will reiterate that I exclude sensei/student pairings (Sakura and Naruto being two of Kakashi’s top five pairings on AO3 in general; currently third and fourth respectively) because of my own discomfort and the fact I am making a comparison with their manga interactions, which take place when both students are 12-16 and Kakashi is 26-30. Minato would currently be the next highest after original characters, excluded for similar reasons. I also include Itachi with reluctance due to their age gap, but as he is at the very least 18 when returns to Konoha to speak to Kakashi, and he is the next highest in Kakashi pairings, he acts as the fifth pairing. So, in short: I am most certainly biased in what I included and excluded in my 2018 and 2020 data.

Again, this analysis does not examine a number of variables, like the Naruto anime and ongoing sequel anime, other types of pairing content, etc. But it’s still very interesting to see the tide of fic on AO3. I would like to look at the anime specifically at some point, but this was already an incredible waste of time.

Seriously, why would you read this? Why would I write this? Are we human, or are we dancer? We will never know.

Literature Cited

Keepyourpantsongohan. (2018, Aug 19). Kakashi & Da Boyz: A Lab Report. Tumblr. https://keepyourpantsongohan.tumblr.com/post/177174079767/kakashi-da-boyz-a-lab-report

Fealasy. (2012, April 26). Once-ler. Know Your Meme. https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/once-ler

#kakashi hatake #kakairu #kakagai #kakaobi #kakayama #kakaita #tenzashi #ayesha talks anime #anime science #long post #mistakes: the sequel #naruto meta #meta #graphics #naruto series #this is just who i am as a person #u have to accept it #also there are 1500 of u now wild

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ofmythsandmadness · 3 years

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prompts & requests.

SO...I never meant to delay this for so long, I’m so sorry for this, but I’m excited to rejuvenate this page -- I’m quite bad with tumblr, but I just hit 350 followers and I figured I’d put in a second dime for trying to make this little account work. People seem to like my little writings (which surprises me tbh, but I appreciate the love) and I’ve gotten a lot of questions about requests, so here’s the masterpost of all that for here!

PLEASE NOTE: I don’t use Tumblr too regularly, I’m trying to be more active but because of life & stuff, I’m not always active to write. Plus, just because you request something, doesn’t mean I will automatically be able to give that! It takes time, inspiration, and often the ability to form a sentence, which weirdly I struggle with. Way too often.

ALSO! please feel free to check out the kofi link in my bio (can’t link it here bc tumblr doesn’t like links and this won’t show up at all) and buy me a coffee if you feel like it! please don’t if you can’t and i’m not trying to force, guilt or forcibly nudge anyone to do it, it’s just if you can and want to support me, that’d be real sweet. :)

WHO I WRITE FOR...most people look at this acc for tua writings, which i’ve got an abundance of! I’m quite fine with any requests of any characters, except for five (unless like it’s some aged up version of him; I don’t feel comfy writing about him and I just don’t care to). I also will write for a lot of other fandoms if you ask for them: those including marvel, stranger things (those of age, i’m not writing stories about minors), harry potter and a couple others. Just ask me, I’ll let you know if I write for the fandom & we can move from there, darling. :)

HOW TO REQUEST...I prefer not too many details in a request, just so I still feel inspired to write the piece. So, if you’re asking based on a prompt below, tell me the number(s), the character you’re looking for, and any details you feel necessary to add! Remember, nothing too specific, like don’t give me the entire plot but things like genre, atmosphere, details on the reader are okay. I usually write either genderless or female reader (I try to stick with the former to be accommodating) but you can ask for a specifically gender-neutral or female/male reader too. This also applies to fics you want garnered to a specific section of the LGBTQIA+ community (for example, if you wanted a lesbian reader with Vanya Hargreeves). I try not to add any details to appearance to the story so that everyone can enjoy the fic, but again you can ask for any specific and I will try my best to accomodate for you lovelies.

REQUEST EXAMPLE - “Can you write something with prompt number 3 and 17? Preferably with a gender-neutral reader, and with Allison Hargreeves? I’d like it to be a happy fic, please, and for the reader to not have any powers. Also, they’re a cat person! Thanks!”

Obviously, I know most people know what’s up and are respectful. But just in case you wanted an example, there you go. :)

PROMPTS LIST

(these were made by me and to my knowledge, they’re not used elsewhere, only some were taken off my last requests list. also, feel free to mix + match and ask for as many as you want)

Quote Based Prompts:

1. ‘I think I’m falling for you,’ clumsy character. 2. ‘C’mon, this is definitely safe!’ 3. ‘Do you believe in ghosts?’ + ‘Why, is there something you want to tell me?’ 4. ‘Shut up about your black coffee aesthetic and try my (insert here) drink.’ 5. ‘I’m only asking for a hug because I forgot my coat and you’re like a human furnace...don’t get any ideas.’ 6. ‘Just five more minutes.’ 7. ‘And you’re sure this isn’t illegal?’ 8. ‘Wanna go get married?’ 9. ‘I love you” “don’t lie to me’ 10. ‘I hate you’ + ‘no, you don’t.’ 11. ‘let’s dance to taylor swift and forget about reality for a moment, please.’ 12. ‘why don’t you trust me?’ 13. ‘promise me, we’ll make it out of this alive.’ 14. ‘we can’t just pushing each other away and expecting things are going to change.’ 15. ‘why are you helping me?’ 16. ‘tell me a secret.’ 17. ‘you can’t friend-zone me, we’re married!’ 18. ‘is this the end?’ 19. ‘I let you win.’ 20. ‘go away’ + ‘no, not until I know you’re okay’ 21. ‘we were supposed to be forever.’ 22. ‘nothing’s fair in love and war.’ 23. ‘I want to be here for the good and the bad.’ 24. ‘So...what happened this time?’ 25. ‘I just really wanted to see you.’ 26. ‘Uh, that’s the whole point?!’ 27. ‘You cut your hair?’ + ‘I just needed a change.’ 28. ‘I can’t lose you too, dammit!’ 29. ‘Don’t lie, you’re a hopeless romantic at heart.’ 30. ‘Can we keep it?!’ 31. ‘Why can’t this happen like it does in the movies?!’ 32. ‘Can you come with me? It’s just to get gum, but I don’t want to be alone.’ 33. ‘I made muffins!’ + ‘You can bake?!’ 34. ‘I can’t sleep.’ + ‘We can share.’ 35. ‘It used to be so simple...’ 36. ‘STOP SINGING THAT SONG OR-’ + ‘-or what?’ 37. ‘I just wanted to tell you...you look really nice tonight.’ 38. ‘Ooh, show me, show me!’ 39. ‘I really wish I could paint, because you’re the perfect muse right now.’ 40. ‘Where’d you learn how to do that?’ 41. ‘Hey, it’s okay...you’re safe now.’ 42. ‘Am I in heaven?’ + ‘Aw, you think I’m your idea of heaven?’ 43. ‘I’m not crying!’ + ‘Oh, so it’s normal for your eyes to leak like that?’ 44. ‘Why wouldn’t you tell me that sooner?!’ 45. ‘What do you think of kids?’ 46. ‘Do you think I’m a good person?’ 47. ‘Don’t look down.’ + ‘You’re only telling me that now?!’ 48. ‘It’s okay...it’s going to be okay...’ 49. ‘I didn’t think it would hurt so much to do this.’ 50. ‘Nerd.’ + ‘Loser.’ 51. ‘Wait, you actually came?’ 52. ‘You didn’t notice the one bed before?!’ + ‘It didn’t say on the website!’ 53. ‘I’m in the hospital, but don’t worry--’ + ‘Don’t worry?!’ 54. ‘Yeah, I was jealous. So what?’ 55. ‘Did you know you talk when you sleep?’ 56. ‘Of course I kept it. Why wouldn’t I?’ 57. ‘I can’t get you out of my head...’ 58. ‘I made you it because I love you, duh.’ 59. ‘I trust you.’ 60. ‘How am I supposed to trust you?!’ 61. ‘You have to start getting better excuses.’ 62. ‘I think they like you!’ 63. ‘I swear if you sing baby it’s cold outside ONE MORE TIME--’ 64. ‘You’re telling me you don’t know all the words to Promiscuous? Who are you?!’ 65. ‘I only went along with it for your sake, you know I hate (insert here).’ 66. ‘Hold my hand but only so we don’t get lost. I don’t need you getting any ideas about us.’ 67. ‘Loosen up, jackass, and give in to evil a little more!’ 68. ‘You didn’t respond to any of my texts, so I assumed you were either dying or crying. I brought answers to both situations.’ 69. ‘That’s it. I’m officially convinced that you’re actually three years old.’

Situation Based Prompts: 1. Person A refuses to dress for the cold and gets sick; Person B is stuck taking care of them afterwards. 2. Person A finds a stray and wants to take it home, but Person B isn’t so interested. 3. Coffee Shop AU; Person A shows up every Saturday to work, and Person B becomes infatuated with the mysterious person. 4. Person A wants to watch a scary movie. Person B accepts, too chicken to admit they’re terrified of horror movies. 5. Person A falls asleep, and Person B plays with their hair. 6. Person A and B wake up hungover and realise that they got married last night. 7. ‘Oh...you love them’, where Person A realises that their real feelings for Person B. 8. Person A is a Christmas enthusiast, but Person B hates the holiday season. 9. (School Based Prompt); Person A doesn’t know how to talk to Person B, and decides to pretend to need help in a subject they definitely don’t need help with. 10. Person A decides to confess their feelings to Person B through a series of anonymous gifts...only they aren’t who B suspects behind it all... 11. Person A and B have a Catwoman/Batman type relationship, dancing around one another and ignoring their obvious feelings. 12. Younger!Person A and B shared their first kiss with each other -- not because of feelings, JUST to get it over with. It never meant anything, right? 13. There’s only a little bit of time left for Person A...will they make it to B, in time? 14. (Flower Shop AU) Person A comes in every day to purchase the same single flower every time, and Person B has no clue why. 15. (Villain/Hero AU) Person A goes home to find B in their bed, bleeding and fast asleep. 16. Person A has a fear of driving. Person B finally asks why. 17. (School Based AU) Person A and B get paired together to complete a project worth a lot of their grade. The only problem? They hate each other. 18. (Coffee Shop AU) Person A comes in every day with a different name and sunglasses on, ordering the same thing every time. And Person B is obsessed. 19. Person A has a hard day at work. Person B doesn’t know what they should do to help. 20. Person A finally finds out about Person B’s big secret -- only, it doesn’t come from Person B. 21. Person A is the most oblivious person in the world. Person B is slowly losing their mind over it. 22. Everyone thinks that Person A and C are meant to be together, and it’s only A and B who really, really don’t see it. 23. And they were roommates (oh my god, they were roommates...) 24. Person A’s roommate’s boyfriend is over again, and they escape to Person B’s for peace of mind. 25. Person A finds a random bag and is determined to return it to the owner -- only, all the clues she has for who the person really is, is in the contents of the bag. 26. (Party Based Prompt) Person A and B really, really didn’t want to go to the party. But maybe meeting one another makes it worth it. 27. Person A and B go laser-tagging for some stress relief. 28. There’s a Halloween party and neither A or B knows who the other is going as. But the (insert costume) standing in the corner is looking rather suspicious... 29. (Apocalypse AU) Person A and B have been struggling for months alone, and finally reach something that gives them hope. 30. Person A and B both head to the roof for some escape. They definitely didn’t expect to see someone in their special place... 31. Person A works really late shifts downtown; Person B always makes sure they’re there to give them a ride, no matter how inconvenient it is. 32. Person A forgets about changing their emergency contact, and this backfires when they end up in the hospital... 33. (Soulmate AU) In a world where people don’t age past 21 until they meet their soulmate, Person A is surprised to learn that the partner they’ve been with for four years hasn’t aged a day -- but they have. 34. (Airport AU) Everything shuts down in a last-minute snowstorm, leaving two strangers stranded. 35. (School AU) Everyone ships Teacher A and B together, and scheme to finally set them up. 36. Person A and B ride the train together every day. 37. (Doctor AU) Person A has to take Person C to the doctors. Much to both surprise, Person A falls quickly for the Doctor who comes in (Person B) -- and Person C takes it upon themselves to let B know. 38. (Neighbours AU) Person A is tired of hearing Person B being so loud so late at night -- especially when they have to get up super early. They finally decide to confront them on it. 39. (Soulmate AU) Everyone has the same cuts, bruises and scars as their soulmate, which really freaks out Person A, who becomes determined to find their soulmate to make them stop getting hurt. 40. Person A and B are hiding their relationship from everyone. They’re not very good at it. 41. Person A finally trusts Person B to meet their (insert here); the last step in their relationship. 42. Person A sends their text to the LAST person they wanted to send it to: Person B. 43. (Delivery Person AU) Person A somehow always manages to be the one to sign for the office packages...does Person B have anything to do with it? (Also, why does A keep buying so much stuff?!) 44. (Arranged Marriage) Person A is being forced into a marriage to Person C neither they or Person B wants. But B might just have a plan out... 45. (Bodyguard AU) Person A always knew that Person C was rich, but never rich enough to need a legit bodyguard. But when C’s father’s company is threatened, they call in the big dogs -- and they’re cute, too. Aka...A makes a point to catch the attention of Person B at any time possible, much to their upset. 46. (University AU) Person A needs a model. Person B needs a way to occupy their afternoon. Thus, a deal is struck. 47. Person A is a private detective hired to work the case on a mysterious murder (that strangely, Person C doesn’t want getting out). Person B is C’s lead suspect, but A can’t help but feel like they’re not the real culprit... 48. Person A drags Person B along onto a roadtrip across the country to go visit their oddball grandparents. But things go south quickly. 49. Person A gets robbed, and has no one to call when they can’t shake the nightmares but Person B. 50. Person A can manipulate time, but only by an hour. Person B doesn’t know this, but gets suspicious when they see A do something very, very weird... (you can supply more details for this one) 51. (Neighbours AU) Person A and B have the thinnest walls ever, which would suck, but they both oddly have the exact same taste in music. It’s nice; if only they got to meet. 52. (Store AU) Person A and B get locked into their work’s freezer for the night. 53. (Coffee Shop AU) Person B has never met Person A; they always miss them by only a minute. They do, however, manage to sit at the exact same table every day and pick up the piece of art they leave for the next customer. 54. Person A has loved Person B their entire life. Too bad they’ll never get to tell them. 55. (Diner AU) Person A meets Person B at three in the morning when they stumble in soaked. They’re surprised, when they show up again...and again...at the exact same time. 56. (5+1) Five times Person A told Person B they loved them, and the one time Person B finally said it back. 57. (5+1) The five times Person A surprises Person B, and the one time Person B surprises A. 58. (5+1) The five times Person A broke Person B’s heart, and the one time they didn’t. 59. (5+1) The five times Person A saved Person B...and the one time Person B couldn’t save A. 60. (5+1) The five times A and B almost meet, and the first time they finally do. 61. (5+1) The five times Person A lies to Person B, and the one time they finally tell the truth. 62. Person B is like, super allergic to dogs. But Person A doesn’t need to know that. 63. Person A has no clue how to tell Person B how they feel. So, they make a playlist. 64. Person A and B accidentally switch luggage at the airport.

Happy requesting, darlings.

#diego hargreeves x reader #luther hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #vanya hargreeves x reader #lila pitts x reader #mine #requests #peter parker x reader #michelle jones x reader #ned leeds x reader #harry potter x reader #hp x reader

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unsettledink · 3 years

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Back in the days of LJ, I used to try and do a post at the end of each year, looking back primarily at fandom and fic. I fell out of the habit when everything moved to tumblr, and then it seemed like I didn’t have anything to say since I wasn’t writing or really participating any.

But I always liked the idea of it, because I love to be overly reflective on stuff. And talk about my fic. Any excuse! I shuffled around some of the topics I used back then and added a few I’ve seen around that I liked. It got… long, because I TALK, so I split into two sections.

Your main fandom of the year?

Marvel (MCU) for sure. Primarily with characters from Spider-Man and Iron Man movies.

Your favorite film watched this year?

The Old Guard - I saw a couple trailers and everything about it looked like catnip. ‘It’s probably going to be so dumb, but I don’t even care,’ I thought. And then it was so good. It was so much fun and so much smarter than I expected and I loved each and every character and it just made me happy in so many ways.

Your favorite book read this year?

Red, White, and Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston - I read it twice this year actually. It’s so… cute isn’t the right world. Sweet and hopeful and soft and comforting and intense. I liked every single character which is pretty rare. I cried during the sad parts and then again at the happy ending, like straight up sobbed - both times. I already want to read it again.

Your favorite tv show watched this year?

Schitt’s Creek - I started it on a whim and because a lot of people had said it was good. The episodes were short so it wasn’t a huge time investment. The first season was a little rough, but there were enough funny moments that I hung on, and then… I kept getting fonder and fonder of these idiots as they grew. And THEN… it kept not disappointing me?

You grow to expect certain scripts, twists, jokes, especially in queer story lines. To wait for the bad thing to happen, because it always does. Instead, Schitt’s Creek kept going, ‘hey, here’s the set up for that! Guess what? We’re not doing it. Here’s the happy version instead.’ The relief of having that happen again and again - the last season I’ve watched (I’m sort of saving 6) I cried a bunch but it was always because I was happy.

Your favorite album or song to listen to this year?

1896 - I’ve been waiting for the new Steam Powered Giraffe album so eagerly for aaaaaages. Finally getting recordings of Zero’s songs! Lying Awake remains my favorite off the album, with Eat Your Heart and Bad Days on the Horizon high up there as well. I’m loving what Zero brings to the band.

Your best new fandom discovery of the year?

I don’t know if I really did discover that much? I stuck pretty closely to old fandoms and the ones I picked up in 2019. Maybe Zodiac? It was definitely inspiring, and I want to write and read more in it.

Maybe the couple discords I joined? I still really dislike discord and am not on there much, and mostly lurk when I am, but having somewhere vaguely like the comms I remember makes me feel a little less isolated. It’s the potential, that maybe if I said something I might make a friend, or someone might actually want to hear what I say.

Your biggest fandom disappointment of the year?

The Watch - I mean, I knew it was going to be a disaster with every word said during pre production. I wasn’t ever going to be happy with it. And then it came out and was even worse and uglier and … disrespectful not just of the source material but of actual people connected to Terry. I’m beyond disappointed that this is what we got, and it’s probably going to be a long time before we get anything else.

Devil All the Time was terrible, but I didn’t have especially high hopes. It still didn’t manage to meet them. Yikes.

The most missed of your old fandoms?

Maybe MASH? Someone I follow started talking about it and I was reminded all over again of the wonderful fics in that fandom. I went looking and a lot are gone (still on my computer, lol, but not online), but rereading was such a trip. A slightly depressing trip, but still.

The fandom you haven't tried yet, but want to?

Hmm. I’ve kind of not had the energy to invest in other fandoms at the moment? When The Witcher was having it’s big moment back in January, I had a feeling I might enjoy it enough to fall headfirst into the fandom, so I avoided watching it. Ikr? I don’t have the time or the energy to actively seek anything out.

Your biggest fan anticipations for the New Year?

SO EXCITED about Winter’s Orbit. I mean, the third Spider-Man movie for sure, with worry. The second Venom movie, ugh yes. I have tentative hopes for Jungle Cruise? Jumanji was stellar and I always enjoy Dwayne. I have both hope and dread for the new Suicide Squad - I did love Birds of Prey, so if it’s along those lines, yay. The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard because it should be some fun garbage, my favorite kind. I don’t know how I feel about Dune, but, uh, I’m anticipating it. It seems highly unlikely it will actually happen, but The Wheel of Time TV series.

I want to be excited about Black Widow but it’s hard. It’s not the story I’ve been wanting to see, and I’m angry about Natasha not getting a movie until she’s dead.

You know. If any of it is released for real.

The Good:

I moved to a better place. I got a better paying, better benefits, better environment job that lets me work from home. The house acquired 3-7 more cats depending on the month. I was able to get some serious problems on my car fixed. I have insurance and was able to start on some health stuff. No one I know got sick or died. I wrote a LOT.

The Bad:

Aside from the obvious? Depression hitting extra hard during the winter. Having to put two kittens to sleep. Have my car be hit three times in our parking lot. Being driven INSANE by one of the cats for months while the vets were all closed. Kidney stone. Dealing with several health problems. Stalling for months on Gotcha.

The Indifferent:

Not leaving the house often or easily. Enjoying a new fandom but not doing great at making connections (still real awkward, bud). Raising kittens and saying goodbye. Need new tires. Reading a lot of fic but not a lot of books. Having more pay but more expenses as well (wth insurance??).

2020 fic stats

Number of stories: 39

Number of fandoms: 6? Or 2, if you cluster the others under mcu

Total number of words: 152049

Average word count per story: 4kish

Longest fic: Causality (18k, P/Q)

Shortest fic: Can’t, Won’t (1k, P/Q)

Most comments received: Sieche (49, T/P)

Fandom you wrote the most of: MCU Spider-Man - I only wrote TWO fics that didn’t feature that fandom, wow. And one of those was still MCU.

Fandom you wrote the least of: Zodiac (1!)

Events you participated in: Marvel Trumps Hate, Kinktober, IornspidersGeorg Exchange, Starker Festivals Exchange, MCU Secret Santa, Spiderio Big Bang

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted?

SO MUCH MORE OMG. I mean, even just counting posted stuff! (I probably wrote a solid 300k of Gotcha this year.) I did not expect or plan on doing Kinktober, so that’s a whole 31 fics right there. I also wasn’t planning on doing any exchanges - I have a History - but then I did three? And beyond that, I did not expect for everything to get so LONG.

Topic you wrote that you would never have predicted in January:

Tony/Quentin. Goddammit @the-me09 They were like hey, they could be interesting! And while I agreed, I had no ideas for them. THEN they had to go and write Just Bodies That Collide and next thing I know, I’ve got ten fics featuring them and two-six series focused on them or Peter/Quentin/Tony. What the fuck.

Leitmotif of the year:

Vulnerability, I think. I had a bunch of things typed up and they all circle back to vulnerability in the end; sex, being seen, being wanted, sharing trauma, asking for help, trying something new. Offering a soft spot in the hopes it won’t be hurt.

Favorite character to write about:

Tony Stark, for sure. There are just a bunch of slightly different takes, and a lot of canon to work with (kind of frustrating too though). And I’m a sucker for emotionally damaged snarky traumatized characters that are viewed poorly both in universe and out.

Favorite kind of fic to write:

This year? Fluff and smut combined. Maybe that’s not the right term really. I keep looking for and writing, even in the angstiest fics, for those soft moments. Sure, maybe it’s a super smutty kink scene, but I want the affection to be obvious. Maybe everyone is consumed by guilt, but I want it to be based in caring too much. Maybe there’s no real love, just sex and even that’s messed up, but I want to find that tiny bit of fondness.

And I want happy endings. Or endings that look like they’re going to be happy, at least, even if there’s all the angst first. I don’t think I’ve killed anyone this year? Who AM I?

Biggest disappointment:

Not finishing the rough draft of Gotcha. I was making such good progress in 2019, from August to December. Even after the move, I basically finished part 6 in January. I fumbled around and fussed with 1 a lot, but that had already been given one draft, really, and I got through half of 4 before I slowed to a stop. I’ve barely gotten anything accomplished on it since June. Bits and pieces here and there, but nothing significant, not like I was doing. I can excuse October, due to 80k invested in Kinktober (yikes!), but aside from that… I’m sad. I’ll finish it eventually, but I really thought I could have the first draft done in a year. I’m sitting at about 480k out of what I’m almost certain will be 700k.

Biggest surprise:

Kinktober! It was kind of spur of the moment, decided just a week in advance. I’ve tried month long or even like, 20-25 day long challenges and I don’t think I’ve ever completed one. I thought there was a good chance I’d do so again, so I gave myself a little help and made my own list of prompts, things I knew I liked and hadn’t done much of yet. And it worked? I actually completed it, what the hell? Despite spending five days travelling near the end! Despite falling behind in getting ahead and writing a bunch of stories the day they were to be posted! Despite apparently forgetting how to do short form!

I, uh, could have done without the spawning of eleven series or sequels or continuations jfc WHY SELF.

Something you learned this year:

Ideas breed ideas. I swear to god, the second I sit down to think through a current idea, I wake up the next morning with three more.

Words need to be restocked. I need to consume new - not rereads, not fic - content every so often to refresh my word bank. It is astonishing how quickly writing goes again after I’ve done so.

I can write so much more than I thought I could. I can do so much more than I thought I could. Yes, I can complete challenges without dropping out early. Yes, I can do exchanges and not regret it. Yes, I can write more than 100k, more than 200k, more and more - and I can write 10k+ easily too. Though I wouldn’t mind if I could once again write less than 10k without feeling like I’ve cut off in the middle.

My time is shrinking, and if I want to write as much, I’m going to have to make the time. I can’t rely on three days off a week, on seven hours of uninterrupted overnight shifts, on hyper focused writing binges that leave everything else around me on fire.

Most memorable comment:

So, so many! I can’t pick one. I’ve been really lucky to get a bunch of really detailed, enthusiastic, analyzing comments across all different fics. One of the types that always sticks with me are the ones like ‘I didn’t think/know I liked this ship/kink/twist, but fuck, apparently I do? You made me, what the hell?’.

What, if anything, are you going to try to do differently in your writing in the new year?

So with writing Gotcha but not posting until it’s done, my view of what I’ve written vs anyone else’s is extremely skewed. I’m sitting here thinking, hey I’m 400k in and got another 10k done today, so much writing! While anyone looking at my AO3 account (for most of the year) is like, you’re averaging three months between fics :(

All that to say I want to try and get something posted more frequently while I’m working on Gotcha.

Also, writing for kinktober was really interesting - pushing myself to write every single day, often for that day’s post, forced me to get back into shorter form fic. Which used to be all I did? But it was surprisingly hard to just stop and not write more. So I’d like to challenge myself to write more fics under 10k at least. Maybe even under 5k though that might be asking a lot lol. I might get there with the many continuations of those fics I’d like to do. Does that count?

Goals:

I want to hit 365 fics. :) I’m only 32 away!

Aside from writing -

I’ve really enjoyed the reading record sideblog I started this year. I’ve let it lapse a little the past month or so, but I’d like to keep it going strong.

I’d like to leave a lot more comments. I want to get better about allowing imperfection - I want to write The Best Comment, but in the end? Probably 90% of fic writers are going to be happier with a comment expressing enjoyment in any way over no comment at all.

And not just on fics, but on general posts as well. It’s hard not to feel… weird and stupid and invasive and rude leaving any sort of comment on someone’s post if I don’t know them at least a little. I have godawful rejection sensitive dysphoria and a lot of interactions that ended poorly; I’m really not good at people. But as dumb as it feels to say those things, I know I am thrilled and warmed and happier when there’s a reblog with tags or a note or a comment or an ask or just, any small interaction that shows someone out there notices and cares, at least a little. There’s no reason I can’t at least try to offer that to other people.

I’d like to make/run a couple challenges of my own, later in the year. I’m still figuring out what I want to do and what I could do. I’m really interested in doing something that’s not focused on creators, but the readers; some sort of comment or rec challenge maybe.

I want to find a cheerleader for Gotcha. I’m struggling to keep up my motivation to write it when it’s already in my head, where I can ‘read’ it any time. There’s a line between depending too much on external validation and trying to generate all your validation yourself, and I’m getting to a point where I think I need to ask for help (gasp! The hardest thing EVER).

(Part Two: Pick Some Fics)

#end of year #unsettled rambles

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freewheelshippin · 4 years

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FIC: “What Do I Call You?”

There was something so honest about how she hyped the crowd, leaned so forward she seemed like she might leap into a crowdwalk, pointing at her ear until the whole crowd bellowed in their own guttoral harmony. And she smiled so much at her crewmates -- Ranmaru realized he was smiling, too, while she played guitar and accompanied the others’ solos, only breaking from her deep sway with the music to look at them with brightness and joy in her eyes.

In those moments, Ranmaru understood something he hadn’t before, but it also made him realize that the hunger in him wasn’t being sated so much as it was deepening.

So! I had some fun writing for the roleswap AU, where I’m the punk rock idol and Ranmaru’s the freelance artist getting some juice from all the love and music.

Not much by ways of content warnings -- lots of eating, a fair amount of alcohol, too, and you know, we utter the word ‘fuck’ a few times.

Ranmaru swore as he dropped the case on his toe. He could tell immediately that this was one of those jammed toes that would hurt for days from the bruising, especially when he still had half of the city to cross before he could get back home. And what was home? His shithole apartment and limping around while he went on his rounds for the local cats?

At least the train was empty enough he could sit alone, even comfortably with all his equipment. He was still cross that the live house didn’t have it themselves. Weren’t they professionals? Stupid. The show had sucked, too, with the band spending more time fucking around then putting on the damn show they were paid for, that their fans came out to see, that Ranmaru had put such care into getting the tech just right to enhance. And that one jackass trying to throw hands with anyone in the crowd. Nobody on staff did a fucking thing to kick him out until Ranmaru dragged him out himself, and now he had a black eye and the stink of shitty beer and stale cigarette smoke hanging on him to show for it.

Thirty minutes ‘til his stop. He could listen to some music to smooth over this shitty...everything. He slipped his headphones on, ready to mute the rest of the world and stop anyone from entering his.

Reiji (12:42 AM) : Iiiiiiiiiit’s dropped!!!!!

What, your balls, Ranmaru thought ruefully to himself, unconsciously clicking his tongue in annoyance. He moved his finger to swipe and mute him for … a week, maybe, from how shitty he was feeling right now, but Reiji was too fast. The link appeared, and Ranmaru hit it, if only to have something concrete to be annoyed with him for.

It was a preview for a new PV. That’s right. It was technically tomorrow already, the day this content was due, but this was still early. Reiji must have found a leak. Lucky he was such an otaku, Ranmaru never had to go hunting for sketchy files or talk with weirdos he knew he wouldn’t be able to level with outside of the crowd. There was a long windup before the music even started playing, the visuals building dramatic lighting and obscuring anything but their silhouettes, but there was the low fuzz of an amp before it all hit at once.

Ranmaru didn’t want to admit that his eyes darted right to that flash of turquoise as the lights came up in the PV, because it would mean that he might’ve smiled at just the sight of her. No, it had to be the sound. That clean, driving guitar, that strong bass, it felt like Deep Purple and Iron Maiden, but pushed to be danceable and idol-friendly with synth and a digital drumkit beat Ranmaru could vaguely recognize parts of.

His toe and face didn’t stop hurting and body didn’t stop aching, but he stopped feeling so mad about it for the minute he watched and listened. There was professional polish there he’d missed seeing at the shitshow that was tonight’s gig, but there was still that rawness there of a good, irreplaceable concert. Something less precise than other idol groups’ practiced, saccharine perfection, but Ranmaru found it more welcoming than any other group he’d seen or worked with.

The camera cut to a focus shot. Her hair was as bright as ever, styled like she were one of those princely girls from anime, just somehow made real, and she turned to look right at him--

Reiji (12:44 AM) : Ranran~~ how are you liking your girlfriend in this one :3c

Ranmaru actually growled a little. He only realized he had been smiling because of how intensely he frowned at that bastard, barging into his texts --

Ranmaru (12:44 AM): shut the fuck up and let me watch it. don’t call her that

Reiji (12:44 AM): Isn’t she doing all the things you like???

Reiji (12:45 AM): So handsome! So rock! So passionate!

Reiji (12:45 AM): Feels tailor made for you ;o

Ranmaru (12:45 AM): I told you to shut the fuck up. go text natsuki if you have to annoy someone

Reiji (12:46 AM): Aww Ranran did the show go bad? :(

Reiji (12:46 AM): But I already did, you know! And I’ve already gotten twice as many sparkly sticker replies than texts you’ve sent me in the past week!!!

(He had to admit he laughed a little at that. Reiji was probably getting another onslaught as he was typing, his own push notifications as clogged as he was making Ranmaru’s.)

Ranmaru (12:47 AM): I’m muting notifs since you won’t learn how to fucking shut up

Reiji (12:47 AM): ohhhh she’s getting ranran’s full attention~! You must really like this preview, huh? I guess it’s true love

Ranmaru (12:48 AM): WILL YOU SHUT UP ALREADY

Reiji (12:48 AM): You’re right, I should, I should be listening for wedding bells!

Ranmaru (12:48 AM): go make out with your gacha girlfriend body pillow and leave me alone

Ranmaru (12:49 AM): hypocrite

He finally muted all his notifications. An hour should be enough to ride it out, he thought as he settled a little into the hard plastic of the seat, restarting the video. The anger from the past couple hours melted away as he watched, uninterrupted, and replayed it with eyes closed as the sound flowed in through his headphones and released the tension in his body bit by bit.

---

The hour ran out when Ranmaru was squatting over an especially runty kitten, eating noisily while the others watched from a couple feet away. Why stray cats could understand him better than anyone else when he said to piss off, he’d never know. He swiped around to turn his notifications back off for the rest of the night before pocketing his phone again.

“...Oi. Slow down.” He pulled the plate of food away from the kitten. It shook with hiccups as it watched carefully, almost fearfully, before it pounced back onto the food, gobbling it down like it was going to be its last meal. Ranmaru sighed but couldn’t blame the little thing. He dumped out the last of the food, gave the rest of the cats one last look as he stood up to walk away, and he heard the frenzied scratch of their claws against the pavement as they swarmed the plates of food.

Maybe it wasn’t so much they understood him as he understood them. To hunger like that, both literally and for something less physical but just as carnal.

He plugged his headphones back in, listening to the leaked preview a few more times on his way back to the apartment.

He liked this group to begin with mostly because of her. She dressed, talked, and acted more like someone from a band than an idol, and something about that felt weirdly familiar and good. The rest of the group were more unique than a lot of other idols -- you’d expect that from a unit made up of a pack of ragtag international recruits, sure, but it was refreshing how they’d made everything about their presence wholly their own.

Hers just made the most sense to him. The brashness, the way she talked about music, the way she performed, it all felt like someone who was chasing and understood the same things he did. She even said her music was about giving people power in an interview Reiji’d dug up for him.

“Beyond language, or the way words reach people,” she’d said in decent but definitely non-native Japanese; she’d grown up some in Okinawa while her family lived on the military base, but mostly shuttled between America and Bangkok before getting recruited by chance here. “I want to give everyone a home that makes them feel strong through my music.”

He wondered, dimly, as he took a hot shower and stared down at his swollen red toe, if he felt drawn to the group because he wanted that for himself, or because it reminded him why he kept picking up jobs that made him as angry as tonight’s did.

He went to bed that night with an ice pack balanced on his swollen eye, the frustration more or less passed as he listened to the classic bands that new song reminded him of.

---

He woke up to his phone buzzing, the hold on push notifications finally expired, and he murmured in bewilderment at just how many there were. Not just from Reiji, but Natsuki, too.

Rather than try and parse whatever the hell happened while he was asleep, Ranmaru just went into the group chat well after he’d gotten himself breakfast.

Ranmaru (9:28 AM): what the hell happened last night that you had to blow up my phone

Natsuki (9:30 AM): Maru-chan-senpai! Ah! You’re alive!!!!

Ranmaru (9:31 AM): I just went to bed is all

(“Why the hell are you calling me ‘senpai’?” Ranmaru had asked him, and Natsuki had looked at him with those big dopey eyes and earnestly said since he’d been a fan longer, he was naturally Natsuki’s senpai, and any protest Ranmaru made never stuck.)

Reiji supplied a link without any fanfare, introduction, or goofy dramatics, which almost startled Ranmaru.

Notice (posted by Ootori Eiichi x/xx/xx):

We are currently seeking an emergency replacement sound/stage technician for performances at the following dates and locations. Inquire immediately. [PAID]

Ranmaru stared at the listing, barely processing the lurch in his stomach that came from just reading it. It was for them. That act. The debut mini-tour for that new single. It’d take rearranging his sound editing queue and massaging some deadlines, but he could feasibly make all of those dates and times.

He thought for a moment of doing that sound check, and seeing for himself the electric energy of that live. Of working with that group whose respect for their audience he personally felt, of watching her prepare, having to talk directly to her as she tuned her guitar....

There was the very real possibility that it’d prove everything he believed about them - about her, really, that ethos he was drawn to - was just smoke and mirrors, too.

Natsuki (9:35 AM): Can you do it, Maru-chan-senpai?

Reiji (9:36 AM): Ranran, you have to do it.

Ranmaru (9:36 AM): this is just a listing, just because I ask doesn’t mean it’ll go through

There was a long pause, where everyone went on and off typing, never actually saying anything, and he frowned.

Ranmaru (9:40 AM): can you all just fucking say what you’re thinking already

Natsuki (9:42 AM): You really love their magic and energy, I just wanted to say I hope you do it and get it because your heart wants it!

Reiji (9:45 AM): Yes, Nacchan, you said it! Ranran, I’ll give you all the free bento you need to keep your tummy full to go do this!

Ranmaru (9:45 AM): don’t fucking do that, reiji, you’ll just piss of your sister. I’ll buy them myself

Ranmaru (9:45 AM): assuming I even do this

Reiji (9:46 AM): I really think you should.

Reiji (9:46 AM): Not because we want the insider scoop. But because when’s the last time you had fun at a live you worked?

Ranmaru could curse Reiji where he stood. Whenever he stopped fucking around and got to his point, it was always a good one.

---

He got the job, somehow, after a little emailing back-and-forth and negotiating the contract. Now he was on a train to Yokohama for the first gig, his case packed full, his backpack stuffed with supplies for a week. Comping travel, hotel, and meals was enough to take the job, even if it paid like ass, but it didn’t. The contract was actually pretty decent. They -- or, well, at least that Ootori guy -- were upfront that he’d be worked hard, the hours were going to be long, and there wasn’t going to be much room for rest or leisure. But the pay was good. Enough that if he had a dryspell of jobs afterwards, he’d be okay for longer than usual.

It was worth it for other reasons, though, he thought to himself, stuffing spare merch he’d gotten in blindbags (and a couple other last-minute buys he didn’t tell the others about) into a bottom corner of his suitcase. None of it was of her, none of it for him. Something felt unprofessional spending this job acting like a fan, but at least there wasn’t any harm grabbing some signatures for friends who never made it to meet-and-greets.

The single was out properly, now, and so was the PV. There was a section of it he especially liked and had gotten into the habit of watching on train rides, where she broke out of the dance routine to put her arms around her teammates, grin a dumb grin, and kick her legs high. It cut to a different shot of the group in different costumes but perfect sync, and when it cut back to that first shot, she stumbled and fell right on her ass, dragging the others down with her. Still grinning stupidly, and singing through it all.

She didn’t take many vocal solos. She only had one line in this song to herself, and she was singing with the whole group for this shot. He read in an interview she wasn’t happy with the tone quality of her voice yet -- it needed to be richer, and she still needed plenty of training before it reached what her teammates and audience deserved.

Ranmaru told himself, as the train was minutes away from the station, that this had to be the last time he watched this video and listened to the song like this. At least for the duration of this job. Every time he watched that shot, as she kept singing and the rest of the group tumbled down with her with the same dumb grin she wore, he knew in his gut the voice she sang in must’ve sounded like the soul of rock. Even if that gesture were directed and performed, there was still something genuine there that reminded him of those moments at concerts that convinced him to walk the path he did.

Maybe he’d get to see it live. Maybe he wouldn’t. But he had to stop imagining it. She - this whole group, rather - was about to become real, and whether or not everything he imagined would turn out to just be something he made up to deal with his shit, he had a job to do.

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

He had a chance to leave his clothes and belongings in the hotel before heading to the live house. Ranmaru was unsure why this Ootori guy had picked him. He didn’t have an exactly long resume with idol shows, but then again, this was a group that debuted without any typical idol sound. There wasn’t any gimmick to them (Ranmaru wouldn’t call being made up of foreigners much of a gimmick when it came to the music), and they weren’t afraid of reaching into all sorts of genres he more typically worked with.

Right as he got to the live house, his phone rumbled with back-to-back notifications.

Reiji (5:48 PM): Ranran~!!! Ganbarimachochho from us!

Ranmaru wouldn’t deign the attached selfie with a response right now (he was about to work, after all), but he felt himself suppressing a smile. Reiji was sticking his tongue out and making a victory sign, Natsuki further in the background, half-buried in stuffed animals and doing the same. They were going to be streaming the event for special-tier fanclub members like REIJI, which Ranmaru had always harangued him for. If he was a fan, wasn’t it enough to just cheer their hearts out live, enjoy their music, buy a CD and shirt, and feel the energy they had to give that way?

(He still pored over the behind-the-scenes and advance material Reiji forwarded to him and Natsuki regardless. Sometimes he translated the English from their social media accounts, even. It was satisfying, as stupid as it felt sometimes, to do those little things in between the real shows.)

He’d never been to the live house before, but it had the same vibes as so many others he’d been to. He found the back entrance effortlessly, where a man with glasses almost took him by surprise.

“Kurosaki?” he asked. His gaze felt just as intense as all the other communication they’d had over e-mail.

“Ootori,” he grunted back.

“You’re early,” Eiichi replied, grinning at Ranmaru. Not that it surprised him in the slightest, but it made him look less approachable and instead even more intense. “Good. I like that in a recruit.”

Ranmaru gritted his teeth quietly. This guy was going to be an absolute bastard, he could feel it, but at least he seemed like he knew how to run a show. “Don’t say that like I joined your agency. Tell me where the group’s at with setup, and I’ll get started.”

Eiichi’s eyes glinted from behind his glasses. He looked too satisfied with himself for Ranmaru’s taste. “I liked how you didn’t beat around the bush when you reached out for the job, and it’s good to see you hold to it. They’re rehearsing in the space, but we still have equipment to unload and cues to sync. You read the notes I sent you, I trust.”

“All forty fuckin’ pages of it.” Ranmaru left out that he’d actually found it pretty impressive, appreciating the thoroughness and ambition of the show for a smaller group and venue. “Are we going to stand around shooting the shit or are we going to get started working on them?”

Eiichi laughed at that. Ranmaru wasn’t sure if it pissed him off or made him feel eager to get to work.

“This way,” he said, showing him to a van stuffed full of equipment.

------

Ranmaru went straight to the live house staff to start doing his work. The master controls were kept in a little room that overlooked the stage. His gut flipped when he first saw them all, rehearsing some specific-looking choreography that needed to adjust to a new stage. He wasn’t about to let that interrupt work. This was just like any other job, except he liked the performers a whole lot more, and things progressed like any other job. Until she looked dead at him from the stage, calling out.

“Heeeeey,” she said. “Scuse me, are you the new tech guy?”

“Yeah.” Ranmaru forced the feeling rising in his throat back down (as much as he could with sheer willpower, anyway). “Whaddya want?”

“I just wanted to ask your name! We gotta call you something!”

“Ranmaru,” he answered, hoping dearly that whatever he felt burning on his face was hidden by the dim lighting.

“Cool, OK. Ranmaru-san,” she continued cheerfully. Ranmaru felt his chest tighten as he heard his name on her lips. “Are we queued up enough that we can do this number with music?”

“This is the one for the new single, right,” he called back. He took a look at the levels, gain, and so forth as they were and instinctively nudged the knobs where the countless plays of that new song told him to. He’d imagined the vision of its stage presence for weeks. “I’m gonna test out some different settings for the levels ‘n stuff while you do that.”

She made an expression of surprise as it came on. Delight, even, as she rode out into the following beats. Ranmaru couldn’t help crooking into his own smile, satisfied his know-how just helped that vision become a little bit brighter. She flashed him a thumbs up, then a gesture to pause, still grinning.

“Can we take it from the top? Five, six, seven, eight---”

--------

Ranmaru had never felt this sort of contradiction. She was restringing her acoustic guitar, from steel to nylon strings, as she hummed and practiced segments of songs, and Ranmaru was adjusting amplifiers and other equipment on the stage nearby. His head swam with the thought and excitement they were sharing the same stage, even just as a tech and pre-show performer, but approaching her felt like being both sides of a magnet at once.

But that push and pull gave way, eventually, as the guitar finished being re-strung and tuned, and the humming turned into full-on singing. Ranmaru fought desperately to make sure he wasn’t just confirming what he’d already imagined, to just appreciate her live voice on its own merits and flaws. But he could feel in his chest that that character, that quality he’d responded so much to was there, that even with some lacking technical skill, there was still a rich tone color you could only get with passion and the spirit for rock.

“You doing any solos tonight?” he asked in English.

“Hm?” She looked caught by surprise.

Ranmaru answered, already anticipating the question. “I’m half-American. I speak it fluently enough.”

“Well, shit,” she said with a grin. “That’s convenient for us. I mean, I don’t mind Japanese if it’s easier…”

“‘Sfine. Do what you want. I won’t complain about the practice, though.”

She chuckled. “Man, maybe losing our usual guy from the agency was a stroke of good luck.”

Ranmaru laughed challengingly. “Say that after the show goes well. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh, uh. Right. Not really? Why do you ask?”

“Why not?”

She took a moment and laughed brightly in reply. Ranmaru could practically hear the insecurity she was covering up.

“‘Cuz we’re an idol group.”

Ranmaru gestured and murmured in vague acknowledgement. “You still have less solo lines than everyone else.”

“Oh, do I,” she replied flatly, going back to her guitar, trimming overhanging strings. “I guess you would know, now that you’ve gotta manage all our sound.”

“I just think it’s stupid you’ve clearly got your own voice but can’t think of sharing it without hiding behind everyone else’s.”

She looked up at him incredulously. “Ranmaru-san, right?��

“...Just call me Ranmaru.”

“Alright, Ranmaru.” She looked at him again. Somehow when she looked at him dead-on this time, nothing went to mush inside of him. “Don’t fucking talk to me like our group voice isn’t the backbone of everything we’re trying to do.”

“Nothing’s wrong with your group voice,” he shot back, getting heated. “It’s good. I can feel the soul behind it all, even when you’re rehearsing.”

“So why are you fucking complaining?” She was still smiling, laying cheer and energy over her growing frustration. “Is there something you wanna say to me about my crew’s voices?”

“They’re fine!” he barked back, frustrated she wasn’t getting his point. “This isn’t about them! You have something your audience is gonna be lit on fire hearing more of, that’s all!”

Some eyes were starting to fall on them, but Ranmaru could barely notice them over the way her chest rose sharply and her expression became inscrutible.

“...how about,” she said, speaking slowly as she deliberately, diplomatically pulled out her words, switching back to Japanese. “You save any notes you have for after the show.”

“......Sure.” His stomach flipped again, more intensely and more painfully than the last few times. He went back to fussing with the amp, and she laid the pliers she’d trimmed her strings with on it before heading backstage until the show started.

---

The show was electric. Ranmaru couldn’t say he was the right audience for most idol groups -- not so much out of distaste as much as incompatibility, he guessed. The way Reiji and Natsuki would lose their minds over their favorites’ cheerful cuteness or the kindness in their voices, Ranmaru wouldn’t. The fanatical, cult-of-personality devotion some other idols could curate with otaku-types, he didn’t connect with, either. What spoke to him was passion, backed by steely sounds and the sweat behind them; the excitement and fervor of rock and a crowd stinking of sweat; how well you could make someone scream themselves hoarse for that one, shining moment without any care for how sore they’d feel the next morning.

Maybe it was the adrenaline from earlier, but when he could look away from the tech, he felt that here, too. There was no drum or bass player onstage, but he could still feel the beat thrum through his chest and rumble through his bones until his breath quickened, like he were jumping and dancing with the crowd. There was joy in their teamwork. In how they shaped their bodies together in song and in voice, and pushing and pulling the spotlight until it was something brighter, something shared and tangible between them and the audience.

His eyes fell on her. What should he call her? She had a stage name in Thai, but she was open that wasn’t her given name or anything friends and family called her. “Aroon” was just something she picked so she could wear her heritage proudly. It meant ‘dawn,’ it sounded cooler, more idol-ish than her Western name, which wasn’t a secret, by any means, but he heard her called by so many versions of it, none felt real.

It only felt so weird because seeing her onstage, he felt far beyond any confirmation bias he could’ve had that the person he’d seen in the PV’s was every bit as real as he’d hoped. He saw someone who didn’t just fit on stage, but relished and grew like a plant in the hot lights burning down on them. There was something so honest about how she hyped the crowd, leaned so forward she seemed like she might leap into a crowdwalk, pointing at her ear until the whole crowd bellowed in their own guttoral harmony. And she smiled so much at her crewmates -- Ranmaru realized he was smiling, too, while she played guitar and accompanied the others’ solos, only breaking from her deep sway with the music to look at them with brightness and joy in her eyes.

In those moments, Ranmaru understood something he hadn’t before, but it also made him realize that the hunger in him wasn’t being sated so much as it was deepening.

They got cheered back on for an encore. And towards the end of that last song, Ranmaru watched as she broke choreography to literally lift the one Natsuki was convinced was a fairy, spinning them around as the practiced moves dissolved into joyful chaos. The whole group ended the song arm in arm, sloppily holding mics for each other as they alternately laughed, belted, fumbled, and shouted thank-yous into the audience.

Ranmaru still felt something tug at him as the mic got held in front of her, she grabbed it, and handed it to someone else. Just sing, damn it, he thought to himself. It didn’t matter if it was perfect, it just mattered that it was hers.

Didn’t she realize she deserved to be adored the same way she wanted the rest of her group to be?

Ranmaru cut everything as they filtered offstage, staggering and softening the mics as they put them back and let them go. He took a deep, sighing breath in and out, almost like he’d been holding it for the entire concert, as his stomach growled.

Maybe he should’ve taken some more of Reiji’s bento, after all, and give Natsuki’s cookies another try.

--------

They closed up quickly. With the group no longer bound by rehearsal, takedown went faster than ever, and there wasn’t any meet-and-greet at today’s venue. Ranmaru dimly considered looking at the merch table, but he had a week to do that and had other things to finish with today’s closeup, anyway.

He could hear the group discussing amongst themselves in English about where to go for a late dinner celebrating a good show.

“I want chicken,” she pleaded. “Is there one of those Taiwanese shops where you can get boba and chicken around here? You know, the kind that comes in a little bag and a toothpick?”

Eiichi approached them, and she started to repeat herself in Japanese before he asked to interrupt her.

“We’re all headed to the izakaya two blocks from here,” he announced to everyone. “I’ve already called ahead to reserve the space. Consider it a reward for a triumph of the first show on tour.”

“But is there chicken,” she repeated in Japanese in mock desperation as she mussed her own hair, fussing it out of the careful styling she’d had it in for hours.

Ranmaru’s phone buzzed from the notifications he missed, shutting them off for the duration of the show. Mostly from Natsuki and Reiji. He scrolled through the groupchat as they reacted live to the stream and tried to compliment Ranmaru on managing sound so well, though he was sure it couldn’t have possibly made much of a difference for the stream.

Ranmaru (11:37 PM): it was a killer show, wasn’t it

Ranmaru (11:37 PM): they’re talking about craving chicken right now. Guess it’s too bad we don’t have a kotobuki bento branch around here.

Ranmaru (11:38 PM): i could go for a kara-age bento

Reiji (11:38 PM): Ranran….!

Natsuki (11:39 PM): Waaaah~! I hope you find some kara-age soon and share it with your shining star!

Ranmaru immediately locked the phone after that. His stomach somersaulted once more time. He stood by what he said to her earlier, but he couldn’t imagine she’d want to talk after the way things had gone. Better to leave the group to that postshow glow, feed himself, and head back to the hotel.

---------

The room was swimming just a little. Ranmaru blearly looked at his phone, trying to ignore the fact that he’d drank beyond his limit like an idiot. He knew he was like this, so why did he keep downing beer after beer? He’d gotten too used to needing as much as he could stomach to tolerate Reiji’s antics (and, he knew dimly, he was just too used to being able to rely on him once he’d hit his limit).

She was seated right across from him, because of course she was, but they didn’t exchange any words or even eye contact. She was entirely focused on the rest of the group and the meal itself, laughing loudly between boisterous stories and jokes and devouring whatever snacks she ordered.

Ranmaru got up. He could make it back to the hotel by himself, probably. Nobody asked as he left, which was how he’d preferred things, right?

If there was such thing as taking a desolate wizz, maybe this is what it felt like, he thought to himself as he dried his hands on his shirt and left the restroom to step outside. Just for a moment. Just to get some air.

Eiichi followed him out.

“Can I help you,” Ranmaru said roughly after Eiichi caught the door behind him.

“Hardly.” He had the same look in his eye as before. “I thought I’d take the opportunity to say well done.”

Ranmaru grunted. “You still have six more shows with me. Compliment me when I’ve nailed all of them.”

“Hm. I’d certainly expect no less. But,” he continued, that grin going places Ranmaru especially didn’t like. “I can’t say that was what I was referring to.”

Ranmaru looked at him suspiciously.

“She’s been a tough nut to crack,” he continued. “I’m glad my instincts were right, Ranmaru Kurosaki, your brusqueness and deep experience with music laid her heart bare enough she recognized some changes she needed to make.”

He didn’t think, and only saw red -- he couldn’t blame the alcohol entirely, but the haziness was enough that his brain needed a moment to catch up to his gut reaction.

Eiichi laughed, unfazed by Ranmaru’s hands on his collar or snarling expression.

“Bastard!” he barked. Eiichi’s eyes glinted behind his glasses.

“I heard your little conversation. Do you not stand by those words?”

“Of course I do,” Ranmaru snapped.

“They reached her,” Eiichi cut in before Ranmaru could think of what to say next. “She’s already asking me about extra vocal training before the next recording sessions.”

“She doesn’t need more training!” He threw Eiichi back, finally letting go. He barely needed any effort to recover, and Ranmaru just glared at him as he kept raising his voice. “And I’m not your for-hire music coach! Is this how you treat all your contractors, you rat bastard of a producer?!”

He just laughed that laugh of his, making Ranmaru even angrier. “Your passion for music and straightforwardness was evident, even in your initial inquiry. It was just excellent luck your technical skills were just as useful for sending this idol group hurtling towards their fullest potential.”

“If you want her to reach it, you’d tell her she doesn’t need any extra lessons. You’d just tell her she’s a great goddamn idol the way she is right now,” Ranmaru spat. “Trusting her voice is just what’ll make her into a better one.”

“I hear some selfish intent in that, Kurosaki.” Eiichi looked like he was burning with excitement. “But that just means I can trust your intentions more than anyone. You speak as someone whose heart’s already been moved. A fan...a loyal follower who desires their success. Perhaps even more than she does.”

“I’m going back to the hotel.” Ranmaru strode past him, feeling himself burn from top to bottom. He gave Eiichi one last look in the eye. “If you need me before the show tomorrow, find someone else.”

-------

The next day and next show went uneventfully. Now that he’d met the group at Yokohama, he was travelling with them in the cars and equipment vans, and he made a point of finding a back seat nobody wanted to share, stretching out, and napping the whole ride. The setup at the next live house was a pain in the ass with their unusual devices and systems, but Ranmaru was quietly grateful to have his hands full. He liked having a good reason for not wanting to talk to (scold) anyone but the live house staff itself. Being irritated they went for weird, cheap models with lower quality helped him double down on the attention needed to make the group shine. They collectively got ramen afterwards. The only words he exchanged all meal were with the one Reiji liked so much, ferrying his ramen order for him when he got frustrated with the shop crowd and left to go wait outside.

(He’d have to find a way to talk with her later about Reiji. Not just for the autograph -- he opened up his phone, ignoring any notifications that weren’t his work email, and messaged him.

Ranmaru (9:42 PM): send me a pic of your Mae shrine

Reiji (9:45 PM): ehh? Ranran, what for?

Ranmaru (9:50 PM): just send it

Dutifully, Reiji did. Ranmaru couldn’t have imagined he really had no idea what he planned to do with it, but if he wasn’t just playing dumb, at least he’d be getting one hell of a surprise.)

It was during the third show that things started to happen a way he could scarcely believe. The show went pretty normally, except for one point where she stumbled badly enough during a complex turn she completely ate shit. But she played it off into something hammy and funny, rolling out of the way of the others, lying like she were posing in a cheesy beefcake calendar while she found the beat again to sing.

Ranmaru still thought she needed to own up to her lack of courage and just sing more, but putting it like she was a coward was a mistake. He thought dimly to what Reiji had said that had convinced him -- “when was the last time you had fun working a stage like this?” And he wondered if he’d ever had fun onstage like he saw. He might’ve tasted the glory and passion of the stage, the delicious energy of the audience, and the power of rock -- he knew he did, he’d looked an easier, blander life in the eye and felt too desolate to walk that path, even with his inescapable debt.

But it could be more fun. That audience could feel more, even more connected, that he could smile through mistakes when the performance came from camaraderie as much as passion and soul. Things could be better when they were shared beyond just the respect of an audience and a performer.

He didn’t realize he was smiling as much as he was until his cheeks were hurting, but that was also because he felt hungrier than he’d ever been.

----

He couldn’t help calculating how many meals he’d be cutting into as the convenience store clerk rang up everything, even though he’d already gotten Eiichi to confirm he was going to expense him the bill and get refunded every cent.

The show closed late. They had a special meet-and-greet he didn’t need to be around to handle, but none of them had had the chance to eat much outside of some spare snacks. He figured something fast and easy before they could collapse in the hotel would fit the bill.

She wasn’t there when he went around knocking on the hotel room doors and delivering the goods. Gone out to relax on the roof, they said, and when they offered to hold her food, he said no, he’d take it right to her.

The sound of the roof door opening looked like it startled her, and he didn’t know what else to do but hold up the bag full of food like a peace offering.

“Eat something,” he said in English, tossing her a banana from the bag. She caught it before eyeing him up and down, then settled back to the outdoor lounge chair she’d been resting on. Ranmaru took a seat in the one across for her, setting the bag on the ground as he pulled the rest of the food out. She looked hesitant, only speaking until he’d laid everything out, even the drinks.

“...That smells good,” she said in Japanese. “What’s that, kara-age?”

“I heard you guys were craving chicken.”

“I mean, I sure was. Thanks.”

“I told you English was fine,” he said, back to Japanese.

“My Japanese is fine,” she said, tearing into the banana first.

“Yeah, but if you’re tired of speaking outside of your native tongue,” Ranmaru started, already feeling himself get heated. “Why wouldn’t you take the chance to just rest?”

She finished her bite of banana before giving him a look. “...If you insist.”

They just sat in silence as she ate for a bit.

“Is there something else you want from me?” she asked. She left half the kara-age and bottled tea.

“...No, not really. I wanted to say sorry for the other day, though.”

“Ah.” She smiled knowingly, though she didn’t look happy about it. “Don’t worry about it. It sure isn’t the first or last time I’m gonna be criticized in this industry. I can handle it.”

Ranmaru murmured in acknowledgement, not sure to what end making himself clear to would earn, but he had to, anyways. He stared down the half-full kara-age container.

“...This is your goddamn food, you know.” He pushed it closer to her. “Eat it.”

“Oh, you’re sure?”

“I didn’t have a meet-and-greet that made me miss dinner. Do you really wanna work a tour on an empty stomach?”

She scooped it up with a knowing ‘hmm’ and a half-smile. After polishing it off, she let out a heavy sigh.

“You are right, though. I’m being a coward, not singing more.”

“You’re not,” Ranmaru grumbled.

“Sure,” she said dismissively. “But I guess I should apologize for getting so defensive. I thought you were just another macho shithead trying to talk the piss out of our group and the voice we have.”

“That’s nothing to apologize for,” Ranmaru said resolutely. “....when I was in a band, I wish I’d had bandmates who’d do that kinda shit for me.”

“Oh, shit, what’d you play?”

“Vocals. Bass. Rock.”

“Aw, c’mon, get more specific than that. Surf rock? Indie boy shoegaze? Folk punk with a little dash of polka?”

Ranmaru gave her an incredulous look. “...Oi. Do I look like a polka guy?”

She grinned widely, looking very satisfied with herself. “I dunno, you never know who’s got a secret accordion! I could see you, maybe you painted half of it, like, red to match that edgelord RPG hero heterochromia thing you got going.”

Ranmaru grumbled, looking away. She laughed. “....I just like rock. If you had to pull my leg I guess I’d tell you hard rock. Maybe a little alt and prog.”

“Ooh!” She exclaimed, barely letting the sip of tea get down her throat. “That’s the good shit! Did you ever record anything?”

Ranmaru hesitated. “...Yeah, but nothing that anyone can listen to anymore.”

She seemed to understand without much more explanation. “...Well. You’re fucking good at the sound engineering side of things. Don’t tell management this -- or well, just don’t quote me on this -- but I like you a hell of a lot more than the guy we were supposed to have from the agency. He doesn’t know shit about how to make music that’s about soul and hype. It’s like, all one level the whole time, you know? Like it’s just sitting at an 8 the whole time, we don’t really get to do stuff like crescendos. Or like, punch someone in the dick by taking it from a three and shoot it to an eleven, you know?”

“Yeah,” Ranmaru said, throwing a hand up. “What’s with that shit? There’s a bunch of stupid clients I had who were like that. Just one kind of loud, the whole album or concert through. What’s the fucking point if you aren’t gonna make people hear something other than just fuckin’ loud?”

“Yeah! You get it!” she whooped, before she held her hand out for a fistbump.

It surprised Ranmaru enough that it took a moment to register. But he smiled a little and pounded it.

------

“Man-eating momma, steam-driven hammer

Sorts the men out from the boys--”

She slid her arm around his waist, and he nearly choked on his beer.

They were at Korean barbecue tonight, their own private room. The last meal, after the last concert, after the last meet-and-greet, after the last frantic merch sales. Ranmaru tried to buy himself a shirt, but instead was presented with a staff hoodie for the tour and a “one of everything” comp for the rest of the merch. They were now safely tucked with other goods he’d gotten signed for Reiji and Natsuki last night while everyone hung out in their big hotel suite. Hotel management made a mistake and upgraded the whole crew to their biggest room with extra cots to fit them all, and they spent the entire post show in a dizzying, joyful, communal haze. Ranmaru even told stories of the embarrassing depths of his groupchat’s devotion to the group and each of their favorites, and everyone took turns recording chaotic, personalized videos for Ranmaru to share later. They fell asleep at a truly stupid hour, and Ranmaru wondered if this is what having sleepovers as a kid felt like.

“Takes no messing, all-in wrestling

Is one of her pride and joys”

Ranmaru recognized the words as she pulled him closer, swaying after slamming her beer to the table. Maybe less the tune, since that was being yelled more than sung.

“She's a classy, flashy lassy

Imitation sapphire shine-- c’mon, dude, you know!” She looked at him expectantly. She was very, very flushed, and at this point, he had to be, too.

“We’re not at a karaoke bar!” he barked.

“Where’s all that ‘you gotta sing more, fuckass’ energy now, huh,” she said, lowering her voice so much to mimic that Ranmaru briefly questioned if this is what he sounded like to her.

“....Fine! If you’re gonna sing it, actually fuckin’ sing it, don’t just yell!”

“Oh yeah,” she said with what passed for a shit-eating grin with her. “Then show me, partyboy. Hey, everyone, meet my new vocal coach! Hold onto your dick, folks, he better fuckin floor you with all the shit he’s been talking --”

Ranmaru looked at her a moment as she kept ranting, first with incredulity, then with a weird surreal awe. What the hell was happening?

Why the hell should he bother questioning it?

“-- Two-faced liar, full of fire

But I know the flame is mine!” He cut off her rant, singing as much as he could like this were a stage.

She -- and a bunch of other staff at the table -- whooped and cheered and laughed, but she and only she joined in with him without a care in the world. “Rocka Rolla woman for a Rocka Rolla man

You can take her if you want her

If you think you can--”

He let the arm that’d been just awkwardly dangling behind her wrap around her shoulder. He felt warmer than he’d ever had, burning all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Rocka Rolla woman for a Rocka Rolla man

You can take her if you want her you can!”

They hung on the last note of the chorus -- she hung on comedically long before dragging them both up to bow while everyone else clapped, laughed, cheered. A server came, yelling that they had an order of grilled beef up. Eiichi, from the other end of the table, gestured that he’d ordered it, but passed it down until it sat in front of Ranmaru.

--------

They had an overnight bus trip to get back home -- or close enough to home, anyways, Ranmaru still had another long train ride waiting afterwards, so he’d planned to sleep the whole bus ride.

But she wound up sitting next to him, and even if he could pretend like that didn’t make his heart thump now by itself, she was chatty.

He didn’t mind the conversation, though. They mostly talked about music, sharing concert stories and albums. He even talked a little about what he wanted to do now in between all the freelance work, and when she wished him luck and couldn’t wait to hear it, he didn’t feel like she was just blowing smoke.

There came a pause while she downed a bottle of tea.

“...I meant it when I said there’s something in your voice the audience oughta hear,” he said, looking at her intently.

She laughed uncomfortably after she swallowed. “Thank you. I’ll…..I guess I just have to go for it, huh.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I...hm….” She paused in intent thought for a while. “Well, for one, the technical control isn’t there.”

“Yeah, but you’ll improve that by doing it.”

“Yeah, yeah. But there’s more than just that, I guess.”

“Like what.”

“...Well, you know how this industry is. It’s…hard. Finding the balance of what you’re good at, what people want, and what the higher-ups think they want. I don’t think I’m anywhere near figuring that balance out...”

“Forget all that.” Ranmaru looked at her very seriously, shifting in place so he could look her in the eye a little better. “Don’t worry about any of those things.”

She laughed disbelievingly. “Okay, sure, lemme just. Throw out my job description while I’m at it. Dude, the whole point of this job and this work is to make other people happy.”

“I was happy hearing your voice just as it was that first day. You just. Sang the way you wanted to. I liked that. It felt good. Genuine.” He took a moment to recall the words he found at the beginning of the tour. “...You like it when people connect with your group’s voice ‘n adore your groupmates. So let ‘em adore you some.”

“Oh, cuz I’m so adowable,” she joked, laughing as Ranmaru scowled.

“I mean it. I….” he started. “...The audience is going to be better for hearing more of you. Whatever that means.”

She thought about that for a moment. “...I...you know. I don’t think I’ve ever asked myself what that looks like. Or let myself realize it, anyway.”

“You can handle the criticism if it comes. If that’s something you’re scared of.”

“...Maybe it is. Thank you, Ranmaru, I’m going to think about that and kick everybody’s teeth in the next time we record.

“‘Snothing,” he murmured, but he felt like his heart was going to soar out of his chest, and later, as they both nodded off and slumped over each other as the road stretched on, he realized he felt sated in a way he couldn’t remember being. A weird sort, that took away the pang of hunger, but made him feel it more deeply through his whole being.

----

When he arrived ‘home,’ it was lunchtime, and he was too dazed, hungry, and tired to weather one last long walk home without some food in his stomach. It was on the way-- he may as well go to Kotobuki Bento and make Reiji make good on the free bento offer.

(His sister rang him up, and Ranmaru paid up.)

Reiji found him after the meal, and he wound up heading to Reiji’s room. To give him the merch, theoretically, but after Reiji earned enough grouchy monosyllabic replies, he brought something that sounded like an actual question.

“...So, Ranran, while you were away…”

“Just say it,” Ranmaru muttered, eyes too tired to focus. “I’m too fucking tired for you to take the long away around.”

“Nattsun’s friend wants to join our little fanclub!”

“....And.”

Reiji shrank a little, speaking more sheepishly. “The thing is...we mentioned you and....he’s pretty sure you two already know each other and you’d want nothing to do with him.”

Ranmaru hazily tried to recall who that could be. There were too many people whose guts he hated for him to figure it out by himself.

“Who is it,” Ranmaru growled tiredly. “Just fucking say it.”

“Does...Hijirikawa ring a bell?”

It did. Ranmaru fumed in silence for a moment, thinking about the whirlwind of disaster that name was attached to, but also the vague memories of that quiet, serious boy in traditional dress who fretted after him when they were too small to know of things like debts and bankruptcy...

“...Whatever,” Ranmaru muttered. He looked at Reiji’s bed and decided he wasn’t going to tolerate any more of this exhaustion -- he had a reliable neighbor to leave food out for the cats, anyway, what was a couple more hours? “It’s not really much of a fanclub if it’s just the three of us. He can join if he wants. It’ll give you ‘n Natsuki someone who’s better at responding to your crazy nightlong gushing than me.” He tossed the dakimakura on Reiji’s bed, dented in the middle from so much hugging, to him, before he shrugged closer into his staff tour hoodie and slumped into Reiji’s bed.

He could practically see Reiji stammering, even as he turned away and settled into the comfort of eyes closed and a real bed. Clearly, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting, and it wasn’t the one Ranmaru was expecting to give, either.

“-- R...Ranran, you really--”

“Yes! What the fuck wasn’t clear about what I said! Masato can join! Go add him already! Just let me sleep, you noisy bastard!” Ranmaru barked one last time at Reiji.

Ranmaru ignored whatever last jabbering Reiji had for him, already carried off to proper sleep. He wondered what he could possibly dream about that would rival the past week and this satisfying feeling, cradled in his new hoodie.

(I perform semi-professionally -- not as an idol, mind, but I’m still getting up on a stage/camera to entertain people on the reg -- and it was so weird but also really......doki-inspiring, let’s say, to imagine Ranmaru being a fan of my stage bravado :’’’’’D To be honest I’ve been feeling a little discouraged and burnt out by it lately but this really refilled my tanks!!!)

#iron maiden & rocka rolla #hints of #matchamocha #and #peach lemonade #scribblings #roleswap au #selfship #self insert #selfship fic

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