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#That's it. I feel like I've been losing a lot of mutuals over my main recently due to not shutting up (sorry)

revasserium · 6 months

Text

death before decaf

opla!zoro; 10,414 words; coffee shop/college!au, vague enemies to lovers, fencer!zoro, sports medicine!major reader, slightly ooc zoro (he's a bit more talkative), fluff and flirting, bff!robin, zoro makes the first move, zoro calling reader "princess", mutual pining, both reader and zoro are dumbasses, making out in locker rooms

summary: sanji and nami bet on how long it'll take you and zoro to finally crack over your caffeine-related discourse; or -- that one coffee!shop zoro au that literally no one asked for.

a/n: i keep on saying "this is the longest fic i've written to date" but this really is the longest fic i've written to date. and no, this will not be the only time zoro calls reader "princess" in one of my fics. trust.

one.

“How long did you say?”

“Two weeks, max.”

“Nah… you think?”

“Probably closer to a week. Week and a half.”

Sanji stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before tossing the smoking nub into the bin, casting Nami a disbelieving look.

“They’ve been going on like this for like three months… and you think they’re gonna crack in the next week and a half? Nah, fam — I call bullshit.”

Nami shrugs, smirking, “Your funeral.”

Sanji scoffs as Nami pushes through the swinging double doors into the main body of the cafe, hitching a smile onto her face as she greets the customers already lined up in front of the counter.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters to himself, dusting his hands off on his apron before pushing in after her, putting on his best customer-service smile.

“Mornin’ folks! Welcome to the Straw Hats Cafe, where the coffee’s hot but the people are hotter — what can I get started for you, sweetheart?” he grins as he shoots you a wink and you flash him your best Colgate smile.

“Can I get a decaf latte with —”

“Oat milk, two pumps of caramel, and whipped cream on top? Oh — and a sprinkle of cinnamon cause you can’t have a fall latte without cinnamon, right?” Sanji finishes for you.

You nod, your cheeks flushed a bright, wind-kissed pink from the cold outside.

Behind you, a green-haired boy in a tight-fitting tee and no jacket scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.

“Yep! You know me so well,” you say, giggling and making a point to speak just a bit louder.

“Course I do, darlin’. It’s what I get paid for,” Sanji jots down your order and pushes it to the side where Nami’s already halfway done with making your drink.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite mosshead jock — lemme guess, double espresso, no sugar, no nothin’, right?” Sanji punches in the order just as Zoro makes his way up to the counter, his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.”

Sanji grins, hiking an eyebrow, “Talkative as always, I see. Alright — that’d be —”

Zoro wordlessly slides a full punch card onto the counter and Sanji pauses.

“Ah — pardon me, I do believe that’s your free drink! You sure you wanna use it on an espresso? Maybe… you wanna try one of our seasonal specials? The maple spice latte’s one of our best —”

Zoro scoffs again, “I’m good. I like my coffee real, thanks.”

Down passed the pastries, you roll your eyes, making an exaggerated face as Nami hands you your drink with a grin.

“Y’know, if you guys just made out I feel like it would fix a lot of this unresolved tension,” she says, even as you nearly choke on your drink.

You’re still coughing when Zoro joins you by the finished drinks counter.

“I’d rather lose an eye than make out with someone who drinks decaf.”

Nami sighs, shooting you a meaningful look as she slides the double espresso toward Zoro.

You wipe your lips with a napkin before leveling him with a glare.

“Well I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than make out with someone who never grew out of his middle school emo-phase.”

“At least I don’t try to use sugar to fill the gaping hole in your life where a real personality should be.”

“At least I don’t make that gaping hole my entire personality.”

“Princess.”

“Edgelord.”

You turn resolutely away from Zoro and smile back at Nami and Sanji, both stealing glances at the pair of you even as they continue to handle the Monday morning rush.

“Thank you guys — I’m gonna be late for class.

Zoro tsks, taking a sip of his espresso.

“I’m gonna be late for practice.”

You huff, pivoting away from him towards the door, purposefully letting it swing shut behind you; Zoro swears as it almost makes him spill his coffee.

Back in the coffee shop, Sanji finishes another order just as Nami washes off her hands to take over at the cashier.

“One and a half weeks?” Sanji asks as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a few metal cups for steamed milk.

“Yep,” Nami replies, shooting another look out the glass door where they can both still see your’s and Zoro’s silhouettes as you head towards the university campus, “Just about.”

“Alright then, you’re on.”

Nami’s smirk only grows, “Like I said — your funeral.”

two.

You’re fuming all the way to your first morning class — Bio-Organic Chemistry — that you don’t notice your friend Robin until she’s standing right next to you.

“Are you mad at your fencer-boy again?”

You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath, “He’s not my fencer-boy, and no. I’m not mad.”

Robin grins, “Your tone says different.”

You cast her a reproachful look, “I just… bumped into him at the coffee shop again.”

“Ah,” Robin says, her voice saturated with understanding.

You groan, “He just… pisses me off so much! Like, why’s he care how much sugar I put in my drinks or if I drink decaf? He’s just a muscle-head loser who thinks drinking espresso shots makes him somehow more manly or something. Ugh.”

Robin’s grin is amused when you turn to chance her a glance.

“Then… why do you care how he takes his coffee?” Her question is light, but you’ve known her for long enough to know when she’s teasing.

“I didn’t! At least… not until he made fun of my drink first. I mean, who does that anymore? We’re in college! Like, grow up!”

“Mm,” Robin hums, schooling her expression into one of careful consideration and marked compassion, “and of course, you’re just engaging in his… childish antics because he started it first, right?”

You sigh, cupping your very sugary latte between your palms as you both duck into the main lecture building, teaming with students shedding scarves and jackets, shaking off the late autumn chill.

“I know, I know it’s stupid but… he just… pisses me off so much!”

Robin chuckles, her smile distinctly sphinx-like as you press your lips into a pout.

“Well, we can talk about it after morning lecture, hm?”

You sigh and nod, waving her off as she heads down the hallway towards her Ancient Worlds class and you head upstairs for the sciences.

You spend the whole lecture in a mood and by the time you’re excused, your temples have started to throb.

But true to her word, you find Robin waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest. You give her a questioning look.

“Just some light reading,” she says. You roll your eyes.

“Just say you’re a gigantic nerd and go.”

At this Robin laughs, falling into step next to you as you both start to make your way towards the dining commons.

“Have I ever denied that I was?”

You let out a noncommittal grunt.

Luckily, the commons isn‘t as crowded as it usually is and you both quickly find a seat.

“So,” Robin says as she slides into the seat next to you, propping up her chin on the heel of her hand. There’s a low, lilting tone to her voice that tells you there’s no getting out of it this time.

You sigh again, pursing your lips, staring down at your açaí bowl.

“So what?”

“Tell me about him.”

You scoff, “Not really much to tell — he’s… one of the fencers on the national team. So obviously, he’s got his own head shoved so far up his ass he can probably watch his own lunch dige—“

“So he’s quite good at fencing then.” Robin keeps her voice neutral, taking a contemplative bite of a banana.

“I guess — I mean we’re the top feeder school for the Olympic team, aren’t we?” You jab your spoon into the yogurt, nearly splattering Robin’s new book. She gently tucks it into her bag and motions for you to continue.

“I dunno, there’s not much to tell after that… he’s an arrogant jock who judges people by how they take their coffee,” and at this, you shove a large spoonful of yogurt and açaí into your mouth, glaring at nothing in particular.

“Doesn’t your practical applications class look after the fencing team?”

Again, you grunt, sinking a bit further into your seat at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ve been dreading that all morning, and the class isn’t till Wednesday.”

Robin’s smile is almost too academic as she carefully finishes her banana and gets started on an egg salad sandwich.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

You sniff, swallowing another huge mouthful of yogurt.

“It can,” you say, grimacing, “You should see the number of times I’ve had to hold back from dislocating his shoulder on purpose.”

Robin laughs her tinkling, all-knowing laugh, “Every day, I wake up glad to be on your whitelist.”

Your lips twitch into a reluctant grin.

“I’d be nicer too if I were as tall and pretty as you are. But since I’m not one of god’s strongest soldiers, I’ve gotta find other ways of defending myself, y’know?”

“I’m not sure what you do can be called ‘self-defense’ in a court of law but…” she smiles, “You shouldn’t sell yourself short either.”

You cast her a deadpan look, “But I am short. It’s like where 90% of my rage and spite come from.”

Robin grins, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You make a rather childish face, but a comfortable warmth spreads from the center of your chest out towards all your extremities at Robin’s words. She cocks her head and continues.

“Plus… I’ve a creeping suspicion that your fencer-boy would agree that you’re prettier than you think.”

You freeze mid-swallow on your last spoonful of yogurt, eyes wide.

“Wait — what?”

Robin sighs, looking at you as if studying a particularly interesting monolith carved with all her favorite dead languages. You sit back, crossing your arms, feeling raw beneath her inquisitive gaze.

“You can’t still think that this little… feud you two have is purely based on a difference in coffee preference, can you?”

You realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip and force yourself to stop.

“I — I don’t know how it can be anything else though…” but even to your own ears, you sound distinctly unconvinced. Robin cocks her head.

“Think about it — when we were all little kids and running around on playground, which girls would get their pigtails pulled the most?”

Your frown deepens, “But we’re not kids anymore and this isn’t a play —“

“Yes, I know. Just humor me for a moment.”

You squirm in your seat, your heart thudding erratically in your rib cage, making you feel strangely breathless.

“It was… always the girls that the boys had a crush on,” you answer, your voice growing smaller with each word as the realization seeps into your skin like sunlight. And suddenly, it's too hot. The thought that Zoro might be doing this because he likes you isn’t something that’s crossed your mind. Or rather, it isn’t a thought you’d allowed to cross your mind.

“You know, boys aren’t technically considered ‘men’ until they’re in their mid-thirties,” Robin says, conversational and satisfied to have driven the point home to you. She leans back even as you reach up to press your face into the palms of your hands.

“But…” you try to grasp for some thread of logic that might be able to refute Robin’s claim but come up empty. She’s always been too smart for her own good. And yours.

When you finally lift your head again, it’s to find Robin still watching you, an oddly indulgent smile on her lips.

“C’mon,” she says, gathering her things, “don’t want you to be late for your next lecture.”

She has the audacity to wink as you hurriedly grab your stuff as well.

“Shut up,” you say, bumping her lightly with your elbow as you walk passed her, cheeks darkening with every step. Your next lecture, you both know, is the Nutrition of Sports — which is one of the few actual classes that you and Zoro actually share.

“Have fun in class!” Robin calls as you split ways outside the dining commons. You consider flipping her off but decide against it and opt to stick out your tongue at her instead.

Robin shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. Really, she thinks, this is just starting to get interesting.

three.

You walk into Nutrition of Sports fully prepared to see Zoro slouched in his usual seat at the back of the class — except, he’s not there. You blink; he’s always been there, always early despite what others might assume of his punctuality. And yet.

“Lookin’ for me, Princess?”

You jump as you hear Zoro’s voice behind you, dangerously close to your ear. Jerking around, you find him smirking, arms crossed as he stares at you.

“N-no.”

“Tch.” He saunters into the room, his arm barely grazing yours as he drops into his seat, leaning back with a sort of damnable, feline grace, doing nothing to hide a huge, lethargic yawn. When he makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, you pause as you notice the way he winces, favoring his left side over his right.

You narrow your eyes.

“You’d be a shit poker player,” he says, grinning as he turns his eyes back towards you, catching you staring before you flush a deep purple and stomp towards your own seat, just one row ahead of him.

You noisily start setting up your supplies — an endless parade of jelly pens and perfectly coordinated sticky notes in aesthetically pleasing colors — pretending like you hadn’t heard him.

Thankfully, the professor hurries in soon after as the rest of the students file in.

Halfway through the lecture, you’re stifling the third yawn of the hour as you feel a small, crumpled something hit the back of your neck. You jerk around to find Zoro ducking behind his arms even as you spot the small wad of paper that he’d obviously just tossed at you.

You bend down to pick it up, only to find a note scribbled in slanted, uneven handwriting —

Sugar crash? Ha. Serves you right.

You nearly whip around but the professor clicks another slide and drones on. You huff, flipping the paper over to scribble on the back —

What happened to your arm?

You surreptitiously toss the note back to him and grin to yourself as you hear him sputtering behind you. The professor glances towards you. You flash him a winning smile as you continue to jot down notes; behind you, you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro scrambling to appear as if he’s paying attention.

The rest of the lecture goes by uninterrupted, though by the end, you swear that your hackles are raised from the way Zoro’s been staring at the back of your neck the entire time.

“What?” you ask, whipping around to face him.

Zoro, for his part, has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat and sighs, leaning back.

“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” he says as he looks away, a slight darkness dusting the high of his cheeks. It’s not the first time you notice the bone-chiseled features of his face — like some gorgeous, careless god, rendered by the loving hands of a besotted Renaissance artist and preserved for the world to see — the way a constellation of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw is sharp enough to sting the imagination.

“Right. Fine. Sorry I asked.” You shove your notes and pens back into your bag, rolling your eyes as you shoulder your tote, “And… you’d be a shit poker player too.”

And with that, you turn and leave the room without a single backward glance.

You’re gone so quick that you don’t see the way Zoro stares after you, his own eyes narrowed into slits. You don’t see the way he frowns as one of his teammates nudges him with an elbow, reminding him that afternoon practice starts in 15 minutes.

four.

Tuesday night finds you slumped over a stack of books on the 3rd floor of the library, your entire body feeling odd and boneless. Hundreds of tiny flashcards are scattered across the top of the desk, each filled with a system you have to memorize before your test on Friday for your O-Chem course, when suddenly, a white paper cup appears in your field of vision, plopping onto the tiny slip of table still available between all your study materials.

“Hm?” you jerk up, blinking blearily up at a vaguely familiar green-haired figure even as he crosses his arms and sighs.

“There. Some real coffee. Looked like you need it,” Zoro says, glancing away the moment your eyes come into focus.

You stare at him for a solid ten seconds before looking back down at the cheap, watered-down cup of unsweetened coffee on the table before you.

Ew, you want to say, but somehow, “Thanks,” is what comes out of your mouth.

You reach for the cup, wincing slightly as you jerk your fingers back from the scalding exterior of the thin paper cup.

Zoro immediately leans down, snatching the cup from the table to blow on the surface. You watch him with wide, wondering eyes. It takes him a second to catch himself before he blushes a deep shade of maroon and clears his throat, quickly setting the cup back down on your desk, tucking both his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you.

“It’s — careful — I mean — it’s from the vending machine downstairs so it’s not as fancy as the stuff we get from the coffee shop —”

Maybe it’s because you’re truly too tired, or maybe because Robin’s been right since day one but — you reach for the cup, carefully cradling it between your palms as you take a tentative sip and grimace at the watery, bitter aftertaste.

“Gross,” you say, though without any malice, glancing up at him. Zoro scoffs, dragging out an empty seat across from you, turning it around to straddle the chair, propping both his arms on the back as he looks at you. Your eyes once more catch on the way he’s gentler with his right side.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” you ask again, taking another tentative sip of the truly awful coffee.

Zoro grimaces, “None of your business.”

You sigh, the will to snark back rather feeble as you consider the mountain of vocab you have to memorize before your Friday test.

“Right, sure — keep your secrets,” you drone as you set the paper cup down and nudge it further away from you, “be mysterious for the next —” you check your watch, “eighteen hours before Practical Applications when you’ll have to explain to Coach Mihawk why you've been lying about an obvious injury three weeks before your next —”

“Fuck — okay.”

You pause, looking up from collecting your flash cards.

Zoro digs his fingers into his right shoulder.

“I — I think I pulled it at the tournament last week.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Your tournament was on Thursday.”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, “And?”

“And it’s now Tuesday.”

Zoro doesn’t answer this time, but you have to actively fight down the urge to throw the no-longer-scalding-but-still-very-hot-coffee at his face. You tell yourself that the only thing stopping you is professionalism and sportsmanship instead of an unwillingness to damage his Michaelangelo-sculpted features.

“It’s been five days!”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”

You bite back a frustrated scream as you push away from your chair and round the table to stand behind him, not giving him enough time to be bewildered before you press a palm to his right shoulder, already focused on finding the tender spots.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

You run an expert palm over the width of his shoulders, focusing on his right, fingers digging into various muscle groups until he winces.

“Ow.”

You grin as you find a tender patch to the right of his spine, almost beneath his shoulder blade.

“You strained your Rhomboid.”

“Gesundheit.”

You roll your eyes and reach over his back for the cup of coffee. You feel his breath hitch as your front presses full against his back.

“Hold still,” you say, pressing the side of the warm cup to the sore muscle.

Zoro makes a choked moaning noise that he tries to bite off, but not soon enough. It sizzles down your spine to curl at the base of your belly, spreading heat through your body in a way you have no urge to examine at this current point in time.

You hold it there for a minute, and then two, till the coffee’s gone lukewarm.

“Here,” you say, tugging the cup away to offer it to him.

He stares at the cup before glancing up at you.

“Caffeine helps with muscle soreness and pain — it’s probably why you’re so addicted to espresso all the time,” you offer by way of an explanation, even as he opens his mouth to ask. He closes his mouth and takes the coffee, downing half of it in a single gulp.

Then, he sets it down on the table before digging a crumpled packet of sugar out of his pants pocket.

“It’s… probably not as sweet as you usually like it but…” he presses it into the palm of your hand, looking anywhere but at your face, “should help the bitterness.”

And then he’s gone, slouching off towards the elevator bank, leaving you gaping after him with the packet of sugar in your hand, your rapidly cooling coffee, and a mountain of revisions you’ve got no hope of finishing tonight.

five.

Wednesday finds you practically sprinting as you reach your Practical Applications course, clutching at your chest as you burst through the gym doors, gasping for breath. Professor Kureha quirks an inquiring eyebrow at you while Mihawk, the fencing instructor, slates you a sharp, rueful glare.

“— as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” his bright hawk-yellow eyes flash back over the fencing team, “regionals are quickly approaching and we need you in top form. So — warm-ups stretches, everyone. Pair up and get to it. Zoro, up here with me.”

You duck your head and hurry towards your normal spot along the bleachers, slowing as you notice what looks like a cup of coffee from the Straw Hats Cafe occupying the place where you normally sit. You pick up the cup — it’s still hot to the touch.

On the coffee slip is a single word — Princess.

And though it’s in Sanji’s familiar coffee shop scrawl, only one person has ever called you that.

Heat crests up your chest, prickling at your cheeks. You don’t have to taste it to know that it’s your order — your favorite order. Briefly, you wonder if Sanji made Zoro recite the entire thing before agreeing to put it down, or if he’d spared Zoro the pain of having to say the word ‘decaf’ unironically.

And then you wonder if Nami teased him at all, waiting for his own drink on top of yours.

“Chop chop,” Professor Kureha says, grinning too wide as she wanders over, peering at you over her John Lennon shades, “you heard old Hawk-eyes — time to pair up.”

You hurriedly drop your bag and take a quick sip of our drink, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as the caramel-cinnamon goodness seeps into your blood vessels. Some nameless freshman hopeful from the fencing team is your partner for stretches and you patiently walk him through all the major motions, pushing on his back and laughing kindly when he can’t quite reach his toes.

You feel the faint tingle on the back of your neck that tells you someone’s staring, and you privately think that you don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is. But you don’t give Zoro the satisfaction of looking over till you help the blushing freshman finish all his stretches, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, reaching up on tip-toe to ruffle his hair even though he’s got a solid four inches over you.

When finally, you glance over towards where Mihawk is putting Zoro through his paces, it’s to find him flickering through the motions — flashes of silver, lithe, fluid — and you find your breath held captive in your chest by the sight.

You’ve always known Zoro to be a graceful fencer, but grace has nothing on the way he flows from one move to the next, each muscle drawn like a bow-string, each intake of breath timed and perfect. His arms and legs move in tandem and there’s a bewitching rhythm to the way his body breaks and bends. It is beauty and strength, dance and magic — power and promise and the sword-tip’s whish of premonition.

When he finishes, you suck in a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.

You watch as Mihawk murmurs something to Zoro, who winces, looking chastened before Mihawk waves him away and Zoro sets down his epee, making his way over to you.

You open your mouth, about to make some snarky remark but Zoro reaches over his back with one hand and tugs his shirt off in a single, unbroken motion. You gulp, your voice failing you as your eyes settle on the strong ripple of his muscles as he tosses his shirt aside.

Zoro smirks, “Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to start charging.”

You rip your eyes away, fire licking up the length of your torso as you reach into your bag for a roll of sports tape.

Zoro slumps down in the seat in front of you as you take stock of his sweat-slicked torso, your eyes still catching on the patch of swollen muscle beneath his shoulder blade. You reach forward and run a thumb along it, careful of the way he hisses.

“A hot-patch is only going to do so much,” you say, frowning as you drop the sports tape to focus on massaging the tender bit of skin.

Zoro groans, his eyes falling half shut as you slowly work at the various knots in his shoulders. Your fingers are slow and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Zoro has to bite back what he’s sure would’ve been an indecent moan before it rolls out of his mouth at the way your soft palms press into the planes of his back, the tenseness of his shoulders.

“Keep moaning like that, I’m gonna have to start charging,” you say, much too close to his ear.

Zoro jerks, even as you pull back, laughing. The sound makes his skin prickle up with goosebumps and he doesn’t want to think about the myriad reasons why.

“I bought you coffee, twice,” he grumbles, cheeks pink, his mind still buzzing from the warmth of your palms.

You hum, your fingers flickering over his skin, pulling away for a second before he feels something wonderful and cool pressing against his sore, aching muscles.

“You’re right… you did buy me coffee twice. Even though the first time was horrible vending machine coffee and I used most of it as a heating pad for your injury.”

Zoro grunts, letting you manhandle him as you gently twist his right arm into an array of different stretches to test his range of mobility.

“Still counts.”

You put down his right arm to test his left. Zoro chooses not to think about the way his body tingles where your hands touch him, and especially not where you’re standing too close, your chest occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He chooses actively not to think about the way he can smell the soft, coconut milk fragrance of your lotion as you lean over him, rambling about doing the proper warm-up and cool-down exercises.

He grins as you reach over mid-sentence to finish your drink and you pause, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Nothin’… just that… seems like you liked your drink.”

Your eyes slingshot from his face to the nearly empty cup in your hands.

“I always like my —”

They widen when you realize that Zoro had in fact ordered a double shot of espresso in your usual drink instead of your normal decaf. And, that you’d been too distracted by him to notice.

“I — it — wh —”

Zoro languidly rises from his seat, grinning, “Thanks for the treatment, Princess. I owe you one — lemme buy you a coffee sometime, yeah?”

You stare after him as he makes his way across the room, back to the rest of the team for proper bouts. You force down another blush as you shove the now-empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, your heart skidding to the rhythmic squeak of feet shuffling against the floors, the bell-like ting of epee blades, the murmur of the watching crowd.

six.

Thursday morning finds you ill-rested and grumpy as you join Robin in the quad, heading for the Straw Hats Cafe during free period.

“Trouble sleeping?” Robin asks, looking you over with mild concern.

You grunt, adjusting your bag, “Had coffee too late in the day.”

At this, Robin frowns, “But you only drink decaf.”

You grunt again, not looking at her, “Yeah, well.”

Robin blinks for a second before a knowing smile splits her lips, “Ah… so. Fencer-boy’s made his move.”

You round on her, fists clenched, “He has not! He just — he just bought me coffee!”

Robin remains infuriatingly unfazed as she stares at you, “Yes. And to most, that would constitute as ‘making a move’. And here I thought you were a fan of romance novels.”

You turn away from her, huffing even as your cheeks fill with color, “I — I am.”

“So?” she asks.

“So?” you echo, cursing yourself for sounding like a petulant child.

“So…” she continues, patient as always, “he bought you coffee.”

You crinkle your nose, your stomach a roiling mess as the pair of you make your way across the quad and duck into the cafe to Sanji’s bright, welcoming voice, your eyes scanning the queue even though you know that Zoro’s got morning practice. This does not go unnoticed by Robin, though she mercifully elects to not question you about it.

“Yes, he bought me coffee. But instead of decaf, he made it a double-shot.” You try very hard to make this sound like a personal affront, but Robin only dips her head.

“Ah,” she says again, and you feel the urge to run out of the building even as the pair of you shuffle towards the front of the line.

“Hi there, oh! I’ve got a special message for you,” Nami says as you get to the registers, her voice silken with glee as she reaches behind the counter to tug out what looks like a receipt. You glance down at the paper, confused, but she only winks as she moves to ask what Robin would like.

You inch to the side, distracted by this strange turn, your eyes dropping to the slip of paper, upon which is scribbled — Good luck on test tomorrow. Evening bout. Gym.

You stare at the cryptic message for a full minute before Robin ushers you toward the counter where Sanji is pumping out drinks, making girls blush as he winks at them each in turn.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Decaf Princess — though… seems like your tastes are a-changin’ these days,” Sanji says, grinning wide as you get to the counter, pushing a steaming cup towards you. You frown at the drink — cinnamon sprinkled atop a perfectly placed dollop of whipped cream, underneath which you’re sure is your favorite drink order. You look back up at Sanji.

“A certain mosshead jock put in an advanced order for you — said to give you an extra shot of espresso for the test you’ve got tomorrow.”

You sputter as Robin laughs beside you, thanking Sanji for her own Long Black.

“You know, you could just be normal and call it an Americano,” you say as the pair of you make your way out of the cafe. Robin grins, sipping at her drink.

“I could… but where’s the fun in that?” she slates you a glance, “More importantly, are you going?”

“To what?” you ask, not meaning to sound so defensive, but you can’t help it, and even as Robin sighs, you know that it’s useless.

“To the bout,” she says, unruffled.

You hunch into your upturned collar and your thick, layered scarf, cradling your drink, the sweet scent of syrup and cinnamon wafting up to tickle your nose. You blush at the thought of Zoro’s voice, full of morning gravel, shy as he lists out all the extremities you like in your coffee order.

“Maybe. I mean… why not, right?”

Robin nods, humming as she takes another long drink, “Mhm — why not indeed.”

You nudge her; she nudges you back. You both laugh as a church bell rings out from across the quad, sending a flock of birds scattering through the misty, morning air.

seven.

Friday evening finds you pushing through the wide gym doors, pressing your hands over the skirt you’d painstakingly picked out, chewing on your bottom lip.

You silently curse at Robin for pulling out last minute, begging off to some Ancient Languages focus group.

“I bet it’s not even real…” you mutter to yourself as you slip into the front row of the bleachers, looking for an empty seat. You somehow manage to look up just as Zoro is about to go on, his mask under one arm, his blade in the other.

You raise your hand in a half wave before catching yourself and shoving it back down, scowling as Zoro’s lips pull into a lopsided grin. You drop into a seat just as Zoro tugs his helmet on and stretches his arms. You tense as you see the slight wince he twitches away as he tests the weight of his blade.

But you needn’t have worried — the bout is quick and decisive, Zoro scoring one point after another, his blade flashing through the air, bright as fish scales. And before you know it, the buzzer sounds, marking his victory. You leap to your feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd as Zoro tugs off his mask and pumps his fists.

You catch his eye and for a moment, the wild rumble of the screaming crowd fades to a dull, thumping baseline. He jerks his head towards the lockers and you nod, swallowing hard as you duck through the still-cheering crowd towards the back of the gym.

When you get there, it’s to find him methodically polishing his blade, his mask set to the side, his thick jacket pulled down to pool around his waist, the rest of his protective wear scattered in heaps on the ground around him. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with what you know is expensive gear but you can’t keep yourself from staring at the wide planes of back, curving up to his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle that flex up either side of his neck.

He looks up as you shuffle in, your skirt suddenly feeling a bit too short, too risque for the near-winter weather outside.

You clear your throat and cast your eyes about the empty lockers. You don’t miss the way his gaze skates up your bare legs, pausing at the place where your skirt brushes the top of your thighs.

“Uhm — how’s your shoulder?” your voice sounds too high, echoing strangely along the white-tiled walls.

Zoro licks his lips and puts down his blade, rolling his right shoulder.

“Better but… still not great. Mihawk’s making me to do PT.”

You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “I’m glad. You’d never do it otherwise.”

He scoffs, “You know what that means though, right?” There’s a raw, rolling tension beneath his words, a sort of thickened expectation as he stares at you with dark, meaningful eyes.

You purse your lips, your stomach tightening.

“I —”

Zoro gets to his feet, and you barely register the soft clatter of his blade as it rolls to the side on the bench. He closes the space between you in three quick steps and you find yourself marveling at his speed — wondering vaguely if this is how all his opponents feel when he slips forward, the tip of his blade digging into their shoulder or stomach or the bend of their hip.

“Means we’re stuck with each other. At least till you fix me for regionals in two weeks.”

Your back meets the icy chill of the locker doors and the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them —

“Bold of you to assume that you’re fixable in two weeks.”

Zoro quirks an eyebrow, even as you resist the urge to clap your hands to your mouth, cursing inwardly at whatever the hell made you say that out loud. Your heart thuds an insistent drumbeat inside your chest as Zoro leans casually against the lockers next to you. Like this, you can feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his long breaths as he looks you over with sharp, curious eyes.

You think you can taste the sweet, tepid weight of his breath. It smells faintly of coffee and mint and synthetically flavored protein bars.

“Then…” he drawls, propping an arm against the locker door right next to your face, his eyes flickering from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. Your gaze is unabashedly caught on the shape of his mouth, but when you finally force yourself to look up at his eyes, it’s to find them warm and amused.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

You gulp, “To fix your shoulder?”

Zoro shrugs, “That and… whatever else you think needs to be fixed.”

You purse your lips, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

“Who knows? Might take three weeks… might take — forever —” your words cut off as he leans in to graze his lips against yours. And you’re momentarily caught between delight and bewilderment that you’re right — they do taste of coffee and mint and salt — but that they also taste of a dull, throbbing hunger as he leans in to kiss you proper. And then, the blooming realization that you’re just as desperate as he is, pushing in, fingers scrabbling against the skin of his chest as his skim along the sides of your ribs, the dip of your waist.

He kisses you so deep and so long that you’re actually gasping when he finally pulls away to suck a stinging hickey into the smooth of your collarbone, his fingers digging grooves into your thighs as he hoists you up to press you against the cold, hard metal of the lockers.

You let out a clipped moan at the same time he does, and his right arm twitches, though he makes no move to let you go.

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he’s still technically injured, but the part of you that’s hungry and clawing at the base of your stomach with a fierce, immutable need refuses to listen to reason. It takes more effort than it logically should’ve done to extricate yourself from his grasp, to push him away despite his disgruntled sigh as he stumbles back and stares at you with dark, dangerous eyes.

“What —”

“Fuck —” you hiss, even as you let your head fall back against the lockers, the dull thunk pulling a wolfish grin to his lips.

“Yeah, well —”

“Wait — no —”

Zoro cocks his head, “No?”

You reach forward to tug him back, to kiss him as deeply and desperately as you dare, but you pull away before he can properly sink into the kiss and you pin him with a look.

“We — your shoulder —”

“Fuck my shoulder —”

You shake your head, almost delusional with the heat and want and the insanity of it all, “No! We can’t! We — we’ve gotta take care of it first!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, “It’ll get better if we just leave it alone —”

You shake your head again, laughing as he presses back in, slower this time, grazing his knuckles along the skin of your jaw, tilting you back towards him.

“It won’t,” you say, softly, letting him run a thumb along your lips, “but… if you let me take care of it. It will heal faster…” you trail off, letting the implications simmer beneath the surface of all your unsaid words, and it only takes a second for Zoro to consider before he lowers you to the floor and starts haphazardly gathering up his things.

You drag a hand across your lips, watching him.

“So…” you feel yourself blush as you muster up the words but Zoro scoffs, already impatient as he shoves his stuff into one of the larger lockers and slams the door.

“Mine. It’s closer.”

eight.

His, is — in fact — much closer than you’d thought. Only two blocks from the campus, and in one of the most expensive dorm buildings. You wonder how much he must be paying for it before you realize that he's on a sports scholarship, but you can’t even bring yourself to be bitter as he lets you into his spacious dorm, the giant living room scattered with game consoles and opened cereal boxes, leading to a short hallway that opens into his bedroom.

It’s cleaner than you’d imagined, with a set of light green linens drawn neatly over a full-sized bed, and two sets of pillows.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, sweeping some energy bar wrappers into the trash from his desk as he tosses down his duffle bag.

You shake your head, looking around, your eyes catching on the thick volumes of fencing books, the endless stacks of sports magazines, the huge set of free weights on a rack in the corner by the closet.

“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, suddenly awkward as he scratches at the back of his head.

You turn towards him with a grin, “No. But I do want you to take off your shirt.”

Zoro blinks before he smiles and moves towards the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he leans back on the bed, his perfectly tanned stomach flexing beneath the slanted desk-light as he watches you through lazily hooded eyes.

“On your stomach,” you say, your voice light and surgical as you open your own bag and tug out a tub of medicated massage cream.

Zoro stares for a second before the smile slips off his face to be replaced by a dull, knowing scowl. Still, he doesn’t argue as he flips onto his stomach and sighs, pillowing his cheek on his arms as he pouts at the wall.

“Like I told you — we need to take care of your shoulder first. Regionals are in two weeks. We can’t have you performing like you did tonight.”

Zoro attempts a glare over his shoulder as you carefully maneuver over his back and straddle his hips, warming your palms with the massage cream before setting to work.

“I still won.”

His voice is tight and petulant. You nod, sighing as you work your thumbs into the dip beneath his shoulder blade where you know he’s still sore. He hisses, jerking away from you. You pin him in place with your free arm and continue to roll your thumb across the bundle of muscle.

Two minutes in, you press a bit harder and he lets out a pitched whine that makes you pause in your ministrations.

“F-fuck —” he buries his face in his pillow, thumping a fist against his bed as you laugh and continue the massage, though taking care to be a bit more careful around his injury.

Nearly twenty minutes later, you climb off the bed and wipe your hands. Zoro groans, shifting to watch you with half-lidded eyes and color-stained cheeks.

“I know,” you say, holding up your hands, “that really hurt but you feel much better now, right?”

Zoro grins, sleepy as he blinks slowly up at you, “Yeah. Whatever.”

And then, a long moment later —

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, flipping onto his side and shifting on the bed as if to make room for you, “stay.”

You freeze, almost unwilling to believe your own ears as you finish putting away your supplies. You glance at him with tight lips and hopeful eyes.

There’s a tiny grin threatening the corners of his lips as he sighs, making a show of yawning and stretching.

“It’s late… and I don’t really feel like walking you back.”

You fold your arms, “I could just call campus security to escort me.”

Zoro stills for a second but a moment later, he casts his eyes up at the ceiling, “Yeah… you could…”

You make no move to leave.

“But you still owe me coffee in the morning,” he says.

You frown, “Wait, what? How’s that?”

He glances at you, “I’ve bought you coffee twice.”

“Yeah, but I just gave you a free 30-minute medical massage treatment for your shoulder.”

“You would’ve had to do it anyway on Wednesday in Practical Applications.”

You narrow your eyes, “Professor Kureha might not have assigned me to you.”

At this, Zoro scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re the best, and so am I.”

“S-she might not have!” you say, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. You both know that he’s right.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He turns away from you, making as if to go to sleep.

You glare at his back, dropping your bag with a loud thump.

“If anything, you owe me coffee now. That massage was worth at least two coffees, if not more.” You plop down on the edge of his bed, scowling at the opposite wall.

Zoro is quiet for a beat too long and you chance a glance at him, only to find him peering you with a strangely indulgent look in his eyes. You blush, tearing your eyes away.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, his voice once again going soft. Your skin prickles with heat.

“What about breakfast?”

“Coffee and breakfast. That enough to pay for the massage?”

You can’t help the smile that threatens to break across your lips as you glance back at him and catch his eyes.

“I…. guess.”

Zoro chuckles, the sound so low in his throat that it makes you shiver. Quick as anything, he reaches over to pull you down towards him, easily looping an arm around your middle and flipping you both so that you’re pinned beneath him. You barely have time to gasp before you find his lips on yours once more, slow and sweet and shockingly steady.

You kiss him back, letting him push you gently into the crumpled linens of his bed. His fingers are light as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, reaching behind your torso to loosen your bra and tug your shirt from you in a single, smooth motion.

You shiver beneath him and he pulls back to stare. You search his eyes, feeling suddenly uncertain.

“God, you’re gorgeous…”

Heat crests into your cheeks as you try to look away. But he tugs you back with his thumb and steals another kiss.

“It’s late…” he says, pulling away to press your foreheads.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I know…”

“Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

You laugh, shifting as he curls his body around you, tugging you easily against his chest and pulling the covers over you both. A moment later, the lights click off and you’re both thrown into darkness. You let yourself relax into his arms, wondering just how you’re going to explain this to Robin tomorrow.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Zoro’s voice murmurs into the nape of your neck.

You grin, nodding as you press further back into him and he grazes a soft kiss along your skin.

“That kinda thinking needs breakfast and coffee first,” you say, to which Zoro chuckles, nodding as he lets you hook your ankles between his, your bodies settling against each other, warm and perfect, the curves and bends meeting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally, finally finding each other at last.

You don’t have long enough to ponder on the light, musk-salt-sweet of his skin or the way you can feel his heartbeat as it threads along your spine or the way that somehow, the shape of him doesn’t feel foreign against the shape of you, before you’re already falling asleep. And to him, he doesn’t have time to ponder the lovely silk of your hair, just as soft as he’d always imagined, or the way your waist feels perfect beneath his hands, or how he’s somehow he’s always known the rhythm of your breaths before he too is falling into the warm embrace of a dark, sweet, restful sleep as well.

nine.

Saturday morning finds you both tangled in each other, the winter sun bright and cold as it slates through the slits of Zoro’s bedroom window. He wakes up first, shifting to stretch until he feels the weight of you beside him. And then suddenly, he's somehow achingly awake and aware of his body against yours, of your paced breaths and his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. For one bewildering moment, he can’t quite remember what brought him here, and then the scenes from the night before — the bout, the lockers, the kiss — the way you’d tasted, how utterly irresistible you’d been, blushing in the dim light of his room, your skillful fingers digging into his tender, swollen flesh — his own rash promise of breakfast and coffee — it all comes rushing back. Zoro lets out a long breath and leans in to brush his lips along your forehead.

You let out a light groan as you shift in his arms, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you.

“Oh… hey.”

Your voice is quiet, almost shy as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself more endeared than he has words to say.

He clears his throat.

“Morning. Uh… sleep well?”

You laugh, the warmth of your expelled breath ghosting across his clavicle in a way that makes him shiver.

“Mhm… pretty well… and you?”

Zoro clears his throat, “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t… bad.”

He resists the urge to roll away, if only because your cheek is still pillowed on his arm, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet. So instead, he drops his nose into your hair and takes in the milky scent of your coconut lotion. Tiny, pin-pricks of desire shoot through him, teasing goosebumps into the skin of his back and arms, but he forces himself to lie still as you snuggle against his chest with a contented sigh.

“So… breakfast and coffee?”

Zoro grunts, “Hn. I did promise.”

You smile, letting yourself sink into the thick and syrup of his sleep-deepened voice, his moss-green hair even more tousled than it normally is as he adjusts his head on his pillow.

“Hey,” you say, breathless as you look up at him beneath the sweep of your lashes, your eyes so big and dark and wide Zoro wonders if they might swallow him whole.

“Hey,” he answers, just as breathless, uncertainty creeping up the center of his chest as he stares down at you, lying in the glistening, mercurial light, the bend of your shoulder kissed by the morning sun, the shape of you limned in silver and gold.

You lean up to kiss him before he has the chance to second-guess himself, and though he was the more bold, self-assured one last night, you press in against him this morning, the languid sweep of your tongue along his lips making him groan, helpless, against you. He tastes the satisfied grin at the corner of your mouth as he opens his own, his mind frizzing into gorgeous, white static as you spend what feels like hours exploring the sweet depths of each other's mouths — all tongue and teeth and kiss-swollen lips.

When finally you pull apart, he is more breathless than he’d planned for, his body too warm for his liking, an urgent, pulsing something burning at the base of his stomach as he fights the urge to shove you back and sink his teeth into your skin, to hear you hiss, to make you gasp, to leave the indent of his fingers along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, to mark you as his in every way he knows how.

But instead, he places a lingering kiss on your cheek and sits up, slowly stretching his arms.

“Careful…” you warn, pushing yourself up as well, watching him, “how’s it feel?”

Zoro tests his right side, drawing his arm up and then to the side, and then pulling it across his torso.

“Whoa… so much better.”

You smile, satisfied.

Zoro chuckles, “Guess I really do owe you breakfast. C’mon.”

He slips out of bed, tugging open a drawer to toss you a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. For himself, he only tugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, even as you frown, squinting at him from where you’re nearly swimming in his clothes.

“You’ll freeze.”

Zoro smirks as he looks you over, reaching over to pull the hood over your mussed tangle of hair, “Nah, I’m fine.”

You pout, jerking open the drawer to pull out a sweater and tossing it at him.

“You have to keep your right side warm so your muscles don’t just seize up again.”

Zoro stares at the sweater in his hand, looking reluctant before you press your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“C’mon… I worked so hard on getting it better last night… please?”

Zoro groans, rolling his eyes as he tugs on the sweater.

“Yeah, yeah — fine. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he extend his hand. But the pair of you walk elbow to elbow, hip against hip down the bright dorm room hallway, into the chilly Saturday morning air.

“Geez, if you’re gonna yell at me to keep warm —” Zoro reaches over to tug on the drawstrings of your sweater, frowning as he notices how much skin he can still see beneath the opening of the hoodie.

You blush, tugging at it as the pair of you make your way across the empty campus quad.

Halfway across the frost-kissed lawn, he wordlessly reaches out to catch your hand in his, tucking your entwined fingers into the depths of his pocket. You bite back a stupid, dopey grin as you duck your head, quickening your pace to keep up, your footsteps crunching in the dew-bitten grass, the freshly raked gravel.

ten.

There’s already a decent line at the Straw Hats Cafe, but when the pair of you walk in hand in hand, both Sanji and Nami pause for a second longer than usual. Sanji’s eyebrows jerk up his forehead while Nami’s lips curl into a much too satisfied grin as she turns back to the humming espresso machines.

You savor in the smell of freshly ground coffee, absently tracing your thumb over the back of Zoro’s hand.

When you both reach the front, Sanji looks between you expectantly.

“Well, well, well — I’d like to say I’m surprised but —” he shrugs, grinning cheekily, “Well then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I?”

Zoro clicks his tongue but you shoot him a sheepish smile, pursing your lips.

“So… the usual then?” Sanji asks, his fingers poised over the register.

“Yep,” Zoro says, curt as ever, though there’s a distinct blush on his cheeks that not even he can write off as anything else.

You nod as well, “Oh, but… I think I’ll try a non-decaf latte this time. Just one shot of espresso though, please and thank you.”

Sanji blinks at you for a second before letting out a startled laugh and nodding, punching in your order.

“Coming right up, sweet cheeks. Right then, that’d be 8.75 for the latte and 5.50 for the double espresso.”

Zoro reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 20, slipping it across the counter. Down the bar, Nami is humming, looking cheerier than you’ve ever seen her this early in the morning as she goes about making your drinks.

Sanji sighs as he shakes his head, handing Zoro his change.

Zoro narrows his eyes but Sanji cuts him off.

“Take it from me, fam. You don’t wanna know.”

You and Zoro share a puzzled look as you both shuffle down to the pick-up counter, where Nami is sliding your finished drinks toward you with a bright, knowing glint to her eyes. Zoro clears his throat and reaches over for a packet of sugar, nonchalantly tipping it into his drink before picking it up to take a sip.

You try not to gape as you grab your own drink, flashing Nami a quick smile before turning to follow Zoro.

He picks a table as far away from the counter as possible, tucked into a corner, nearly invisible to the rest of the shop. When you sit down, he frowns at your chair for a second before reaching out to tug you across the floor till your chair is next to his. He goes back to his drink without a single word.

It’s all you can do to blush and stare at your steaming cup.

“I thought we were getting coffee and breakfast,” you say after a brief moment of silence.

Zoro grunts, “We are. Coffee first.”

You nod, somewhat mollified as you take another sip of your drink. The warmth trickles down your chest to rest somewhere in the center of your stomach, spreading heat throughout your body in waves.

“We could just get a chocolate croissant,” you say, giving Zoro a sidelong look.

Zoro frowns, tapping his finger against the side of his cup, “Dessert isn’t breakfast.”

You scoff, “Says who?”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Says me. And I’m payin’ for it.”

You purse your lips, wondering if you should argue more before deciding against it. A few seconds later, Zoro sighs, casting his eyes about the cafe interior.

“We can have a croissant after real breakfast.”

You giggle into your drink, swallowing down the glee fluttering in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your still kiss-chapped lips.

“Kay, whatever you say.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but his elbow presses against yours and he doesn’t make to move away.

Across the cafe, Nami leans to watch the pair of you, Sanji at her side, looking both stunned and somewhat pained.

“C’mon man, it’s not even been a week!”

Nami grins, rinsing out a few cups and placing them mouth down to dry before pivoting on her heels and holding out an expectant palm. Sanji sighs as Nami’s eyes glitter with mirth and a hard-won glee.

“Right. I think you owe me fifty bucks.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, glancing back at where you and Zoro are tucked into the corner of the cafe.

“Double or nothing on when they’ll have their first fight. I say… not till next week.”

Nami’s eyebrows twitch up. She looks back at where the pair of you are now bickering over where to have breakfast. A smirk teases at her lips.

She puts down her hand, “Alright then… but like I said — it’s your funeral, Sanji.”

Over in the corner, there’s the dull scrape of chair legs as you push yourself away from the table to fold your arms.

“— Belgian waffles are absolutely an acceptable meal for breakfast!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, though there’s still an amused spark behind his eyes.

“Breakfast without eggs ain’t real breakfast. And doesn’t count if it’s smothered in syrup either.”

You make an indignant noise, frowning even as Zoro tugs you back to press a napkin to your upper lip, where there’s a faint line of whipped cream residue.

Sanji backpedals immediately, “Uh — right so, I feel like we need to define what really constitutes a ‘fight’, yeah?”

Nami tuts, shaking her head, “Nope! A bet’s a bet. Now pay up.”

feedback always welcome :) reqs are closed.

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just--vi · 4 months

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2023 in fanfic!!

i wrote my first full fanfic in 2023 after coming back to fandom after a long hiatus. in all i've written over 240,000 words which is just nuts. it made me some incredible friends and incredible mutuals who i hope to turn into friends. i started with the loves of my life (wolfstar!!) and discovered some new loves (jegulus has the key to my heart) and came up with a million future fic ideas

goals for 2024 include: write something that isn't a muggle au, convince everyone to ship moonchaser (jk... or am i), write more smutty one shots, read more!!! (gimme your best recs)

if you'd like to see what i've written, click below...

love by the seaside - april 23 / august 23

Remus is an artist who, after a particularly messy breakup, finds himself drawn to the Cornish coast. His fresh start is disrupted, however, when he meets someone who reminds him an awful lot of his ex-boyfriend. (multi-chapter, complete, 42,126 words, wolfstar with background jily)

you're losing me - may 23

Although they're desperate not to, Remus and Sirius just can't quite keep from falling apart. (one-shot | 3,898 | wolfstar | canon compliant)

young blood - may 23 / november 23

After Regulus spends a difficult year alone with their parents, Sirius convinces him to spend his last summer before college on a road trip with him and his closest friends. The very last thing he's expecting is for his feelings for Sirius' best friend to resurface with a vengeance (and he certainly isn't expecting them to be returned). As it turns out, he and James aren't the only ones dealing with complicated emotions. Sirius has just returned from a year long trip abroad and Remus is having a difficult reconciling with just how much he's missed him. Or, a coming of age road trip AU full of angst, fluff, healing family trauma and navigating old feelings. (multi-chapter | complete | 71,029 words)

a weekend at crystal lake - october 23 / october 23

A group of recent college graduates set off to a cabin in the woods for one last hurrah before going their separate ways. As the weekend goes on, it becomes increasingly clear that they aren't alone out there. This is horror-themed AU featuring our favourite Marauders where (almost) everyone dies. This is a fic written for Halloween, with scheduled weekly (sometimes twice weekly) updates until October 31st. Enjoy! It's basically angst and smut with a little bit of fluff as a treat. (multi-chapter | complete | 24,166 words)

under the glow of neon lights - november 23

Pure smut. Regulus, Remus, and James fuck in a dingy club bathroom (and then carry on fucking at home xo). (one-shot | 4,429 words | remus x regulus x james)

the weather outside is frightful - december 23 / december 23

James takes it upon himself to drag Regulus home for Christmas and an unexpected snow storm rolls in, stranding them together over the holiday with no lights, no power, and no heat. (multi-chapter | 15,726 | jegulus )

for the love of ducks - september 23 / present

Remus Lupin has always been sick, and he'd just like to feel normal for once. Sirius Black seems like the perfect man with a perfect, exciting life. (multi-chapter | ongoing | wolfstar with background jily)

where the light gets in - july 23 / present

Remus Lupin splits from the Marauders after a bitter feud with frontman Sirius Black; Famous brothers Sirius and Regulus Black haven't set foot in the same room in seven years; Marlene McKinnon and Dorcas Meadowes enter a rivalry for the ages… at least, that’s the media’s side of the story. Scandal, heartbreak, and bitter rivalries. But how much truth is there to the rumours? (multi-chapter | ongoing | wolfstar, jegulus, dorlene centric)

the little blue house on main street - november 23 / present

A coming of age university AU in which Regulus Black struggles to navigate his feelings for his brother's best friend, Sirius Black struggles to navigate his sexuality, and the whole lot of them struggle to navigate growing up. (multi-chapter | ongoing | wolfstar, jegulus, pandalily/marylily)

#wolfstar #jegulus #fanfic #dorlene #pandalily #marylily #fics #2023 fanfiction summary #can't wait to read everyone else's summaries #everyone post yours i want to see #viwrites

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wttcsms · 2 months

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sorry if you're not comfortable answering this, but I saw you say that you've been diagnosed with depression. how did you know when to seek help?

tl;dr: from a young age, i never lived a healthy lifestyle with an easy pace. i (and maybe even my family) put too much pressure on me, and i never really coped with it in a healthy manner. my attempt at handling things "with ease" and "not stressing" was actually just me bottling up my emotions, and it's not until things started getting really bad that i finally sought help.

nothing uncomfy abt it at all! discussion of mental health is pretty important! tbh, i never thought i would have depression or be diagnosed with it; i started showing symptoms for around a year before i started really thinking to myself, hey, i think there might be something up with me mentally and this isn't just some silly, quirky thing i'm going through. ever since i was around 18, i went through great lengths to ensure i would achieve maximum academic success but while being a full-time college student and consistently working 60+ hours a week (70+ during the summer bc my junior year internship was so intense; i also went to college 2 years early, so i think that's when the internal pressure to "do well in life" began) was taking a massive toll on me mentally and physically. i would survive off of 4-5 hours of sleep, consume concerning amounts of caffeine, i was losing hair, i was losing drastic amounts of weight, i was breaking out and breaking down, and even when i got better, i still wasn't fully ever healed from that experience purely bc my schedule just never slowed down.

i am still a full-time student, i am still working 7 days a week, leading to 60+ hours (40 hours internship, 20 hours at my weekend part-time job). on top of that, i am in the second to last semester of my grad school, i help out around the house bc after my older sister moved out, i took over the eldest daughter duties, i am still holding myself to a very high standard academically (already planning to apply to phd programs, studying for the cpa exam, already have another summer internship lined up). i knew things were getting bad because 1) i am finally older (im abt to turn 21! yay!) and i realized that the lifestyle i'm living isn't healthy and 2) a lot of my behaviors didn't feel "normal" to me anymore. it finally hit me around two months ago, when i realized that i sort of lost my love for fanfiction. i've been in a weird mood where i didn't want to read any fanfic whatsoever, but i chalked it up to being "too busy" and focused on other things. when i couldn't even find the energy to read my own mutual's fanfic, i knew something was up bc i always try to power through and remain enthusiastic on my friends' behalf. more behaviors that were a cause for concern:

my disinterest in everything that brought me joy previously. sweet treats at the end of the day, coffee before work, buying makeup from sephora, cleaning my room (sounds silly, but i love having a clean living space and cleaning my room used to be a source of peace and joy for me), writing fanfiction, reading books, watching youtube videos, catching up on shows that would release weekly and that i used to count down the days to watch — none of it held my interest. i wasn't excited, i didn't care.

it wasn't just a lack of joy from things i loved, either. rejections from programs i looked forward to/rejections from opportunities, abysmal grades in class, looming deadlines that i most likely wouldn't make, growing assignments on my work to-do list; none of this elicited a reaction from me. there was no stress (that i was feeling; subconsciously, i think the stress was still there and i just refused to acknowledge it), but there also wasn't disappointment or sadness. i had no emotional response to anything, and that was very concerning to me, and the main reason i contacted my sister and then her boyfriend (who is a licensed psychiatrist)

i could sleep for 12+ hours a day. there are many days in the week where all i want to do is rot in bed. not even in a "go on my phone and dick around in bed" type of way, either. i would have certain days where i couldn't leave the bed. sometimes, i wouldn't even feel tired, but i would just sleep. my internship is wfh and if it was a slow day with no assignments, i would clock in and spend that whole day in my bed, sleeping. it got to the point where i wish work was busy so i would have something to force me out of bed. yes, i would be aware of my tiredness sometimes, but this felt different altogether. i just wanted to basically hibernate lol.

i had constant headaches. i thought it was because of the nature of my job, where i look at computer screens all day, or maybe it was bc i wasn't drinking enough water. i would also get unexplainable cramps sometimes.

tmi, but little to no pleasure and an extreme decline in interest in sex

i had extreme issues with focusing on work and studying; a lot of my work (and school materials) centers around thinking through problems and applying tax law or guidance to certain situations.

my diet fluctuated; some days, i wouldn't want to eat, yesterday, i gorged myself on food, eating to the point where even i had to pause and go wtf.

not very often was i randomly sad, nor did i ever want to kill myself or self-harm; when i was a teenager (17/18) and probably showing signs of depression, i was very irritable, angry, sad, and had suicidal thoughts, thought i was worthless, an idiot, etc. however, i mostly just feel empty and apathetic during my episodes now.

what helped me seek help was knowing that my behaviors and how i was feeling didn't feel healthy, but also, my best friend recently shared her diagnosis with me and i would have never thought she would be depressed. my sister's bf was also a major help in getting me comfortable to consider the possibility of having a mental illness and also in finding someone to talk to. hope this helps!

edit: forgot to mention it, but i exhibited many/all of those symptoms for around the past 3 months before ever seeking help. those behaviors started manifesting tremendously and seriously disrupting my daily life, and i knew i needed to do something to get my life back on track.

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starswallowingsea · 1 year

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Thoughts on enstars?

i like this game a normal amount

i downloaded it on a whim after seeing one of my mutuals post about it shortly after the english release and we talked a little about it. i unlocked like half of the date plan atoz story (like i said, early. that's the second event EVER in the !! era) and thought it was cute or whatever and then kind of played motor show but it wasn't until i gave up on genshin that i really got into the game. i think i was reading chapter 2 of the main story and had just met rinne and was like oh i need to know what this guy's deal is and was dead set on going for his night club card when that event came out.

and then night club came out and i was a goner. that event changed me. it was my first time i think i seriously read any of the event stories and cared about what was going on and i really started brain rotting over rinne specifically and then eventually somewhere along the way i started really liking the rest of the bees too, i think after the release of chapter 5 of the main story and seeing kohaku go on stage and talk about how much he wishes they had gotten closer before rinne and niki had taken off and how they had all been able to come together for such a short time and still do something with their performances.

i read meteor impact early in the fall semester, i remember i spent a full day after class for like 5 hours just slogging through all whatever 50 some odd chapters of it and just losing my mind. and then i read checkmate i think over two days and the same thing. i've read a few other stories since then that were more filler stories but still gave me a greater sense of the world and the characters who are just so. there's 49 of these fuckers and there's a guy for everyone i swear i've been assigning my friends enstars characters on discord and lose my mind over different ones every week lmao. they feel like real people and real friendships that go through real problems and ugh. madara is one of the characters i connected with most with regards to leaving my childhood religion.

like yeah we joke about this game being absolutely insane and there being a lot of weird out of context moments that make others stop and pause and ask what the hell is going on but at the end of the day, the writers clearly have a story they want to tell and love the game just as much as the fans. the fact that they incorporate so so much literary and religious symbolism into these idol gacha game stories that just make me lose my mind (Me, who is like Judas Iscariot, who betrayed the saint for some dimes. You, you don’t hold any grudge for me, and even affirm your love to me, right? Would you even forgive those that crucified and sacrificed you, too?).

For all its flaws, of which there are many, it's such a genuine experience to read and play. The music is good the stories are well written most of the time and it's so full of love.

#ESSAY UNDER THE CUT BTW #i didn't talk about the flaws here but you can find other people who talk about them #like portraying rinne and hiiro as ainu and the stereotypes that get leaned on in some things #like the dog hiiro stickers. poor taste man. and rinne being drunk/a gambler which is a general #anti indigenous stereotype (ofc rinne is way more than that but including those traits to begin with is a little #sketchy at best)#i think most of the time even with stories that fall flat like succession match #they have good intentions and i can see what they wanted to say with the stories yknow?#nobody is perfect and i dont expect that and i'm more shocked that they'd decide to even attempt to seriously talk about #immigration and migrant communities in japan and how they interact with society at all.#it was a little. hmm. but like. i dont think it had bad intentions behind it yknow?#does that make sense?#message in a bottle #anonymous

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redjaybathood · 1 year

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For the ship ask game.

BruJay, SladeJay, CassJay

Wow, that's a lot to think about, thanks!

Brujay: more like ship it rather than not.

What made you ship it?

Bruce takes a central part in Jason's story and vice versa.

My relationship with this ship is pretty complicated. I love to explore it, both in writing and reading. Trauma, codependency, obsession, abuse, unrequited (not necessarily romantic) feelings, on one hand. Fate, going through hell and high water together, being closer than anyone in the world, trying to make the world a better place together, saving each other literally and metaphorically, on another.

When I'm writing, it's mostly the first, when I'm reading, it's mostly the second. It's a good vessel for both types of stories.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

Tragic, doomed feeling of it all.

I love melodrama, what can I say.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Honestly, they would have been happier never met each other. In canon, I want them to stay away from each other, and in a good part of fics too. If it makes sense, it's also my notp.

SladeJay: I'm on the fence, honestly! I know quite a few great stories about them, and I see the appeal, and I don't even hate Slade as I did previously, when I just started reading comics.

So:

Why don’t you ship it?

Because I actually got introduced to Slade far earlier than Jason. It was Teen Titans, and I just hated him there, and I hated what happened to Tara, and then I started reading (about) comics and things were even worse for her there.

I did get over my hatred towards Slade, mainly thanks to Romiress fic series where Slade adopts Jason. But, I dunno. In my consciousness, Slade is primarily focused on Dick so that's the biggest obstacle for me.

What would have made you like it?

There's not much I would like to explore between them, and most of it would be gen with mostly antagonistic relationship. Like, how thoroughly Slade fucked up his kids - while Jason knew at least two of them, Joey and Rose, and his story somewhat calls out to Grant's. Or that time when Jason was trying to take over Gotham and Slade was working for organization backing Roman Sionis. Or maybe their mutual ties to the League and Talia.

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

One of the best fics in DC fandom I've read was them. And overall, I do get why people consider it hot.

CassJay: don't ship it

Why don’t you ship it?

It's hard to me imagining them working together, much less having something more. It would have been an AU only. And it's not really that much compelling. Their main conflict is to kill or not to kill and they both lose.

What would have made you like it?

If they had more interaction in canon, maybe a team up, we could see how it went. As for now...

I can see a scenario where Cass maybe could get a fleeting crush on him, like with Black Wind, and Jason being Jason, he would either completely be oblivious to it. Or, worse, he would have fallen so hard, when Cass took him down and his target - a disgusting rich oligarch trading child slaves or something - got away because of her... It would break his heart, simple as that.

Or maybe after Stephanie choosing not to kill and dying for it, if you put Cass vs Jason in the UtRH... Also a lot of heartbreak but maybe also character growth.

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

They would have made a BAMF team.

#ask meme #ship meme #brujay #sladejay #cassjay

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togidemi · 1 year

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hello i am going to use my tungle dot com for its intended purpose of microblogging in order to microblog. because if i don't keep my thoughts on my various language-inventing endeavors organized in a semi-public area, i'm gonna lose some crucial stuff in my discord inboxes, on god.

we are in my blog now. hi! i like languages. when the neurons diverge in just the right way i try to actually study linguistics - do not perceive my pending courseras and virtual linguistics campus certification - but more often than not they just... lead me to spit ideas and spiral into youtube and google scholar on random whims until i find something else to occupy me. this means that i've been lurking in various conlang circles since high school, but haven't ever actually completed one. (arguably i haven't ever actually started one lmao)

this changes soon! maybe

mostly because i have too many cool thoughts on too many cool projects and it would be a crime to not take an earnest step towards at least one of them... listed below!! for my sake and yours i'll try to organize them in ascending order of how much effort it'd take to complete the conlang(s), and provide 1) a "brief" premise for the world they'll be punted in, 2) a vague vibe for the language(s), and 3) rough deliverables. tanginang deliverables truly ni vivas en socio

Esperplantasy Regional Languages: Fucking with Established Conlangs

premise: i hate naming things so this is the shorthand i came up with for my ESPERanto PLANTpeople fantASY setting, borne from thinking a lil too hard about what actual ethnic esperanto groups would be like and coming up with... post-post-apocalyptic plant-augmented humans. who are also facing a shitty government and so the main narrative is about plucky rebels communicating via codes and ciphers. it'd be a comic (mostly) in esperanto, because i think a story about obscuring communication told through a language created to facilitate communication is hilarious. and also my little language tweaking playground because-

vibe: what if you push little esperanto quirks as a cultural thing? what if two distinct groups order their sentences and particles differently, when they're just hovering over the edge of mutual intelligibility to be different dialects?? (contrast, for example, one who prefers SVO sentence order and puts the particle last - "Lesbano ĉi, kiel lesbano ajn, ŝatas muzikon de Mitski" - to someone who does particle-first SOV, "Ĉi lesbano, kiel ajn lesbano, muzikon de Mitski ŝatas". tttechnically the point of the -n accusative marker is so free sentence order in esperanto is valid, afaik, so tinkering with that would be interesting) what if la esperantidoj were results of actual language evolution... what if other languages were in here too...?

what i need to work on:

two variants of classic esperanto that are split into being ever so slightly influenced by eastern european and east asian language thingz, yet still intelligible to the average verdulo. run those variants through the esperant' beam since Da Youths™ in the setting tend to converse in that esperantido, which i like for its more casual sound.

creating an esperanto-toki pona creole OR mixed language (i call it esperantoki at the moment) for the diasporic fantasy!SEAsian main character to speak. partly because i adore how taglish sounds to the uninitiated and want to evoke that feeling. this will very likely also involve incorporating solresol, either as a secret means of communication, a musical language in esperantokiland culture, or just straight up into the vocab.

learning ido because the land's capital speaks it, and are pushing for it to be the main language of the setting. also, learning volapük, for the order of nomadic clown nuns who speak it as a sacred language. dw about it.

Virbanwanun: Fucking with the Languages of an Established Setting

premise: i fucking adore gubat banwa, and i'm morally obligated to plug it every chance i get. it's a classical southeast asia-inspired high fantasy tactical combat ttrpg, and a lot of its conflict is centered around violence between the five major mandalas in the sword isles. as a born and bred manilenyo with severe catholic baggage, i am (reluctantly???) fond of the lakanate of virbanwa, the mandala inspired by imperialist metro manila with severe catholic baggage. lmao. the setting has a canonical writing script (kasuratan!) and a trading language called trade mataram - and believe me i have spent time vibrating about both - but emphasizes that there is plenty of language diversity in the isles. i'm curious what conlang families in the mandalas could feasibly look and sound like, and i'm starting with the one that's the most my lane.

vibe: virbanwanun and ba-enun are both based on tagalog. i want to work specifically with manila tagalog - what is officially called Filipino down here but trust me the more people outside the metro you talk to the more you realize it is well and truly just manila tagalog - and then, because they'd successfully driven out the issohappans (not!spanish vampire alien motherfuckers), skew just a little more spanish. now, we already have a spanish creole over here - chavacano! - and believe me when i say i've been replaying the chavacano version of maldita's porque since i realized i wanted to mostly just tweak the ratio of tagalog to cavitenyo chavacano for virbanwanun. something maybe 60-70% intelligible to the average manilenyo, while also having more (and simultaneously less) of a spanish influence, with some hokkien and mandarin thrown in. why not

what i need to work on:

ananaran virbanwanun. ananara is the bustling capital of virbanwa and i want it to be the most similar to manila tagalog, just pulling heavily from castillan spanish and hokkien

"improper" virbanwanun - the variant typically spoken outside of ananara. i really like the simple tense marking particles for verbs in chavacano - compared to the broke-ass aspect marking system for verbs in tagalog (super interesting to linguists! however a pain in the ass for me, a lifelong inglesero!! pay no attention to me i am simply a hater) - and am intrigued by the language name ("chavacano" was named as such because it was considered "vulgar/improper" spanish), so i thought it'd be funny if the imperialist mandala also squabbles with itself in the name of imposing one (1) Correct language to use. might throw some basque in so i can finally get conlanger cred in by using an isolate language.

virbanwanun beki. OKAY LOOK. i am tired of religious baggage consisting of internalized homophobia and transphobia............. except when it's funny. and i think it's fucking hilarious for virbanwa to be the one mandala with a dedicated queer language - much like swardspeak/bekimon here in the philippines, and polari in the uk - because it's the one mandala that actually has a problem with queer repression. i want to toy with playful onomatopoeia, feminine pronoun use (polari is notable for referring to damn near everything, even first person statements, with "she"), and the thing beki does where words are derived from puns on celebrity names and pop culture shit. since i do not want to invent virbanwan pop culture, however, i can instead go a more blasphemous direction by pulling vocabulary from-

liturgical virbanwanun. the makata, old-timey virbanwanun in which the usangaklat - the ashen star sacred text - is written, as well as the language in which masses are celebrated. want to make heavy use of sanskrit (virbanwa does fantasy polytheistic buddhist-catholicism, i just laser-eye on the catholicism because that's My Hole, The Hole That Was Made For Me) with a lil bit of mandarin

virbanwanun alphabet. i like the idea of virbanwa taking the issohappan alphabet before booting them out lmao. virbanwanon names in the book are hispanic names A Little To The Left, and in honor of my bebeboi oc niqulas, i'd like to think it does the.. cyrillic thing where its letters kind of look like latin letters but a different pronunciation. (hence why the Q-lookin character is used for k sounds.) plus with kasuratan being an abugida - and my plans to make ba-enun's primary writing script a logosyllabary - i'd like a bit of alphabet rep in the isles' scripts.

btw i do want to disclaim that despite my proximity to (and presence in???) the gb creative team, myyy conlang pursuits for its setting are fan projects and not canon at all, so. yee

Zodiac: Fucking with a Conlang from Scratch

premise: alright bear with me. what began as a rough story idea of an elite warrior force patterned after the celtic zodiac parenting a mysterious child warrior started innocently gaining little worldbuilding details until the scope creep ate me alive and i begrudgingly swallowed the fact that i am probably going to construct an entire language on top of my own conworld

vibe: although the celtic zodiac is not in fact real and thus i'm free to frolick in my own bullshit without fear of offending real people, looking at celtic shit did help anchor a creative direction for some worldbuilding choices. i'm trying to hammer the rest of the foundational worldbuilding out (apart from specific cultural tidbits the only big note in my brain is "IT'S NOT TROPICAL"), but i've decided the language will be heavily inspired by scottish gaelic and tamil - partly because they're both quite old languages and partly because phonology is the part of language construction that i dislike the most so i decided to take my first serious from-scratch conlang easily by taking from some of the languages whose sounds i like the most. (i like the sound of indic languages in general, but narrowing it down to the dravidian family and then further onto tamil makes my life easier.)

what i need to work on:

getting a basic grasp of starter vocabulary and the general grammars of gaelic and tamil. which means.... a looot of language instruction, given that unlike all of the abovementioned languages i don't have even a passing idea of what these languages are like apart from how they sound

building a protolanguage from the ground up, then maybe making variants as i build regions in the land. for story reasons, the land the story is set in is militant and smack dab between constantly warring places, so i will very likely also make at least partial languages for their neighboring territories.

from there i will derive a script, a sign language, and some kind of tactile language for the visually impaired. again for story reasons, this land is very accessible for disabled people, so i'll have to consider that not just in their language but in building design and such

Fleshmage Medical Terminology: Fucking with a Naming Conlang from Scratch (for Game Design Purposes)

premise: one of the ttrpg ideas on the development docket - which won't see sunlight for at least a year, believe me - involves, essentially, overenthusiastic doctors who can explode bodies with saint magic. part of the gameplay involves building your abilities, which u name the same way medical terminology is built; doesn't take a medical student to understand that if you see, say, myocardiectomy, it means my- (muscle) + -cardi- (heart) + -ectomy (removal). don't have ur heart muscles removed btw

vibe: so your character's abilities are named and categorized like medical terminology, but have you ever noticed how much latin and greek is in scientific and medical terminology? what if medical terminology was based on austronesian (...or malayo-polynesian, or philippine-type, idk i still have to decide the scope) language quirks instead? featuring things like reduplication (repeating syllables to alter meaning; e.g. in tagalog "araw [day]" -> "araw-araw [every day]") and verb-focused procedure names, as well as just a different general sound for medical terminology, is something i'm really excited to work on!

what i need to work on:

game design first and foremost lmao 😔😔😔 the hardest endeavor out of all of these, tangina

carefully constructing the vocabulary and naming conventions so they seem familiar to SEA folks but also easy to grasp and identify! wouldn't want players to memorize pages of jargon just to remember what the heck their characters do, y'know?

this also involves like... like maybe some physiology knowledge hbhbghbf like i dO NOT INTEND FOR PRE-MED LEVELS BUT. LIKE. MAYBE NEAT LIL MEDICAL REFERENCES WOULD BE REALLY FUN TO SNEAK INTO IT

ANYWAY yes these are all projects i want to work on with about an equal amount of interest and eagerness, which means i will likely work on them all simultaneously and make piddling process on them all as well. expect fruit by early next year if i feel like keeping up on a development diary of some sort, or not at all if i decide to pfft not talk about it.

#shut up togi #would also like to add that my gf kate is integral to developing all of these #not just to bounce ideas off of and for hyping but also because she knows her shit goddamn

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kashacreates · 2 years

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AHHH!!! Hiiii!!! (@my-writblr here)! I saw where you reblogged my WIPs! Thanks :D

I just saw your introduction post where you share you were a transman. (I'm agendered! Not quite the same, so I wanted to ask two questions. Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to answer! Nooooo pressure or expectation!)

I'm writing a transman character and while he does end up coming out to his crush, the crush is like "I'm so sorry you felt like you had to come out to me! I should have been a safe place for you where you didn't feel the need." And is just generally supportive, but also I don't want her [the crush] to make it about her. I want it to be a mutual "Oh hey this is something I want you to know about me" and a "Oh!" moment.

I kind of *do* set it up to be a stomach drop moment where you think for like three words of her sentence she isn't going to be supportive but it's really just her feeling like a bad friend for worrying that she wasn't a safe space to be. But I want it to quickly turn around where it's a "Wait you're not upset I'm trans?" and she's like "Never in a million years!" SO Question 1: So does that sound like an okay scene (asking as a writer as well)? Or is it too cliche? It's not the big climax of the story or anything. It happens within the first half of the book. It's just another "secret" being uncovered between these two (The Crush being an ace and The Transman being aro and they still have a mutually beneficial relationship with a third member in a polyamorous triangle.)

Question 2: What are some things as a transman you want to see in transmale characters? Any do's/don'ts?

Thank you for the ask!

Let me give some more information about me before I answer those, as my answers may differ from another transman's answers. I also believe that a few of my mutuals are also transmasculine and I invite them to reblog this with their answers to this question as well. :D

I'm a closeted transman in my 30's who hasn't transitioned due to finances and health problems. I'm currently more financially stable, but the city I live in is very conservative and there is a real chance I'd lose my job should I start. I'm very open online but guarded in meatspace about it. However, non-professional friends tend to know so I haven't had to "come out" to a partner since they already know who I am, essentially.

I'm also an inclusionist, community-wise. This means that I see that the breadth, depth, hue, and intensity of human emotion is so vast that our language fails to accurately capture it. Also that the function of labels function better to find people similar to ourselves. I'm not one for discourse so take what I'm saying here as my experience, what I've read, and etc.

As to my answers:

Question 1: The scene seems fine to me since it's not a main plot point and seems to function as a way to inform the reader. If the focus is on the interpersonal side of things, I don't see a lot of writers handle the afterwards of coming out often. Even the most open-minded ally tends to have some preconceived notions. This means there's a growing period afterwards where both people learn how to deal with the knowledge: the cis person figures out pronouns, names, how to be respectful, etc. and the trans person figures out how to navigate helping someone else figure them out (it's very awkward! And rather unavoidable.) This is true for polyamory as well-people take a minute to learn and that is okay.

Also, people do tend to "make things about themselves." It is an inherent part to how we relate with each other. We tend to give-and-take in discussion. She should just avoid talking over him and engage with what he's saying along with whatever she has to say. I would definitely include why he wouldn't feel comfortable coming out to her prior to that, whether it's something she's said, it's purely a personal issue, etc. Question 2: Transpeople are like any other minority: not a hivemind where everyone agrees on what is proper. As long as you make a fully-fledged character that isn't a carbon-copy of a negative stereotype, I can at least take a story in good faith. (As an aside, there's been a rash of transandrophobia on Tumblr that makes for a great "what does hate against transmen look like. It can be found in transandrophobia tags and other places. Obvious cw and tw for transphobia.)

Honestly, the way I make trans characters is make a character then later go "Ah, they're trans."

I'm finding it difficult to put into words, but two things I'd avoid are transmen characters that are a little too uwu too cute and pure bean for this world and like transmen who transition explicitly to avoid misogyny. These simultaneously infantilizes and fetishizes us or turns us into horrid cudgel for terf rhetoric.

Something I wish more people would show in trans-media in general is a focus on gender euphoria versus dysphoria. The utter giddiness of getting to do something that actually feels right after feeling wrong or neutral for so long. It can be something as small as a shirt that fits right or getting the first hint of a beard or something more typical like cutting off long hair or getting the first binder and so forth. Being trans isn't a tragedy, there is a lot of joy in it too.

#advice #ish #I hope this helps!#trasphobia cw #transandrophobia cw #more just explaining some of the common ways those come up to help avoid baking into a well-meaning character.#But still worth it.

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codenamebooks · 2 years

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Heir of Fire Book Review

by Sarah J. Maas (Throne of Glass #3) | ⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑ | Goodreads | CW: death, grief, depression, violence | Series and Novel spoilers

Celaena is in Wendlyn under the watchful eye of Rowan, a prince under Queen Maeve's ruling. Dorian is learning to control his magic with the help of the healer, Sorscha. Chaol forms an unlikely alliance with Aedion, traitor to the throne and loyal followers of Aelin Galathynius. Ironclan witches prepare to help the King of Adarlan.

Full review below the cut!

Sarah J. Maas proves once again that she is a master of storytelling. My mouth was literally left hung open at moments of true shock, followed by amazement that she so carefully leaves hints. Some you can piece together on your own, others you don't learn until the big reveal, some are understood but don't blow you away. Knowing that this story goes on so much further past this book and the next, it's such a careful and genius way to tie together what we've already experienced and open up more plot for us to head towards. The best, and a bit easy, way of doing this was to separate our characters in space (exactly like Stranger Things season 4), so that we had to piece together information that they couldn't. What is that? Dramatic irony.

Another masterful trick in this novel is her focus on mental health. She never names it, but it's so clear the depression that is settled on Celaena and, as we eventually come to learn, Rowan. I am relieved to see characters deal with the grief and despair of the terrible things that happen in their life. It is so much easier to see how brave these characters are when they finally fight for their own lives after putting themselves in harm's way. It even opens up the space for me to be scared since I can see exactly what these actions are doing to the characters as we sit in the gross and scary situations.

The most beautiful thing to come out of this book is Rowan and Celaena's friendship. It has my entire envious heart. We dig into the mental health focus the most here as they build their platonic relationship on mutual trust understanding and a real desire to be better for themselves, the people they care about (even if they're dead), and quite literally the world. I silently screamed out of happiness and unnecessary amount of times.

Celaena herself is the strongest written main character I've ever read, especially for a woman in fantasy. Every move of hers is calculated but more overly powerful as she is still broken for understandable reasons. Overall, she acts on her heart consistently. Even if you dislike characters who think less strategically, you have to appreciate Celaena for being such a stable character that you understand each time that that is what her choice is going to be.

Dorian is still so precious to me, but Chaol is losing ground in my eyes now. I really couldn't have been happier that Dorian found Sorscha. She resonated with me more than I could have ever expected and I want to take her bravery in this relationship with me. But she brought back the flirtatious bastard version of Dorian that I loved. I squealed over them... a lot. Chaol on the other hand, is very useless in this book, especially as a point of view character. His chapters (and Aedion's) were solely used to progress the political plot of this. We couldn't have learned about the King's motives without them but... It was boring. Necessary, but boring. He wasn't rounded out, inconsistent, and was so disloyal to his friends that it was aggravating. I appreciate that we have a character that isn't perfectly on track but I'm disappointed it was him and we had to hear from him.

The least interesting part of the book was the witches. This isn't to say that I didn't become attached to Manon and Abraxos, but they weren't integrated into the plot in this book and I didn't want to be wasting energy on preparing so hard for the future plot.

In the end, I am left with this huge mixture of feelings. There's an extreme feeling of hopelessness (I didn't want to read the last twenty pages because I was so stressed), mixed with an overwhelming hopefulness (I believe in Celaena), and they allow me to be excited for the fourth book (the novella, not Queen of Shadows).

If you loved the promise for magic in the second book, continue reading the series! If you like explorations of trusting platonic relationships, read this book! If you liked strong female main characters, read this book!

#heir of fire #sarah j maas #throne of glass series #book review #fantasy #young adult #magic #young adult fantasy #romance #fairies #fae #adventure #new adult #high fantasy #fiction

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bitegore · 2 years

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9, 11, 19 (huh, that rhymes)

9. Is there anything in the fic you're not so excited about writing?

Well, yeah. If i were excited about writing it it would've already been written. But one that really is coming out like pulling teeth is thus:

Conceptually I'm obsessed with bitter exes who are the Same Person. Prowl and Tarn, Onslaught and Tarn (i do this with Tarn a lot because it's sexy to make him confront his flaws via everyone else around him confronting him about their flaws), so on and so forth. But my god. My god I hate writing denial-ridden self-loathing characters so much. Every time i do it its like trying to chew through plywood, it just doesn't want to work for me. I don't even enjoy reading it! I just want the Sunken Ship Manifesto(tm) to exist so i can point at it for other people to look at it.

I have an Onslaught/Tarn one on the docket that I think is very sexy and is about a quarter written, except getting from point Recordscratch to point How I Got Here is Kicking My Ass because it's all Onslaught going "tarn sucks so much because [thing i do] and [thing i do] and [thing i am] and this is unique to tarn and he disgusts me more than anyone else i've ever met for reasons that i have no idea about" and IT DOESNT WANT TO WORK FOR ME it's so haaaaaaard lmao. I've been putting it off for like two weeks now.

11. Is there any scene you can't wait for people to react to when reading? Why?

There's a 90% written bit for Transmissions from Cybertron that I neeeeeeeeeeeeddddddddddd to finish because everyone is going to scream at me and i can't wait. i can't wait. i want to ruin everyone's lives with this update and i just have to finish it so it's like Right There. (you know what this is but i don't want to spoil it for everyone else so i'm gonna be deliberately vague)

Also, for a completely different story, in my TMNT/G1 crossover I can't wait for the "Motormaster was Master Stick all along and Megatron is actually Shredder, and he wants the teenage mutant ninja stunticons to be Very Dead" reveal to happen. It's my season finale for the first half and i want to Upsetti the readers. as is my primary motive for writing in general lmao

19. Is there any scene that you feel is really planned out/going to be really planned out?

Not so much - if it were going to be planned out, it'd already be written down. The main thing that stops me from writing anything is just not knowing how it's supposed to go, so the second I figure that out I put it down on paper.

The caveat to that is that i've rewritten and subsequently lost encounter 3 of the Bait Telling Lies fic four times, so I know exactly how that goes. I haven't rewritten it again because I'm really mad about it; I hate losing work. But essentially she goes to the Neutral equivalent of a biker bar and intentionally runs her mouth so that she sounds like a poser trying to sound big, exclusively so she can trick someone she's got a mutual grudge with into picking a fight with her later so she can bite their head clean off and call it self-defense. It's a fun scene and I love letting her kill people; I do not love rewriting the same thing over and over and then forgetting to save it, not successfully finishing the thing, and accidentally losing all my work. I'll rewrite it again and post it someday.

Question list is here :D

#red replies #honestlyvan #unfinished fic ask game #sorry this took so long i had to change locations Four Times in between starting and finishing it

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anonymousreductionjournal · 27 days

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First off, this is a weight loss journal

The background: I've always been larger. A couple of years ago, I did a fairly strict and extreme diet (in a personally safe way) and was able to lose a lot of weight in just a couple months (around 60lbs / 27.25kg in 2.5 months) but was promoted to manager at my old job.

Things got super stressful and I fell off watching my weight and started stress eating. Eventually the stress eating became habitual and while I am at a much more laid back job now, I'm not healthy by any means and I weigh more than I originally did.

I lost my old scale when I moved so I hadn't weighed myself in some time and finally did and it was like a punch to the gut to read the number.

So I made this sideblog to document my numbers and progress.

My information and rules to my diet and personal rules for my blog below:

Blog rules:

First and foremost, while I may occasionally interact with potentially pro-ana posts, this is primarily for recipes and as a whole, I do not support anorexia. Numerically speaking, as per the rules of my diet, some can consider it falling under anorexia in the long term but one of my main rules for my own diet is that if I am feeling unwell or sick, the diet is called off for the day or extra consumption is added but more details will be added further down.

Second; I am an adult. I suffer from bad body dysmorphia regarding my size and even for the sake of progress, I do not photograph myself and will not share photos of myself on here. The only pictures I might share will be of meals I enjoyed with the recipes for later reference

Third; I am not expecting followers as this is mainly a tagless blog (aside for a specifically unique tag for the aforementioned meal posts) but considering the mental health, the extremes to which people can take diets, and self body image of people, I will block any minor that follows this blog. I do not want to endorse the idea of extreme diets to minors. Be safe and smart.

Diet rules:

1. Food content does not matter outside of calorie count. I do not care how many carbs or what the level of transfats are in a food, I specifically only count calories

2. Calorie restriction is going to be averaged at 1000 per day with some minor wiggle room. I will aim for 1000, if I hit 1200, itd be disappointing but is still in the weight loss range and isnt a big deal. I will not go above 1500. If I do go above 1500, the remainder would be reduced from a strict 1000 the following day. For example, if I eat 1700 cal, the 200 over would be removed from the next day, aiming for now 800.

2. 1 day a week will be allotted for a cheat day. I can but probably wont count calories on this day. This is for when I spend time with friends or have meals with my partner on a mutual day off, or to just eat unhealthy fast food.

3. The following day will usually be a fast day

The typical schedule is that my partner and I typically have sundays off together (minus my occasional working sunday) so my diet schedule would be Tues-Sat, cheat Sunday, Fast Monday. But the days arent definite as it more revolves around availability of friends and such when I will have the cheat day.

And most importantly

4. The diet will be on hold if I am ill. If I am horribly sick, or struggling for the day and feeling like I might pass out or having unending horrible migraines that keep me from doing my job, the diet is canceled for the day. I will eat so I feel better and I will not hold it against myself and I will not reduce or fast the following day (unless its currently a cheat day, in which case feeling ill should be unrelated to the diet anyway)

5. Not a definite rule, but I will attempt to post basic weights daily for me here. These posts will be very short, just the date and weight, with body measurements potentially once a week. Weights will be taken in just underwear for consistency and accuracy. While I have "they" in my bio, I have a male body so if you see measurements for bust/waist/hips/thighs, take this into consideration. Thigh measurements is the circumference of my right thigh, not both thighs at the same time.

----

I dont really have an end goal at the moment, anything is better than what it is right now. I may set periodic goals but considering I cant adjust my diet further, I cant plan to weigh this or that by a certain date. The previous time I did this diet, I lost 20+lbs/9+kgs a month but I had a job on my feet versus my current desk job so rates will differ from last time.

Please dont give me hate or attack posts for me being large, I know I am and that is why I am starting this.

April 3rd, 2024

Edit, all weights should be applied to my physical height of 6'2 / 187cm

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eisheartoffantasy · 1 month

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Entry #16. How Do You Love? How Do You Lie?

Corny title, I know. But it's my journal. My feelings.

Anyways, the girl I mentioned whom I have a crush on — let's call her Silvia — is still very much in my life.

The way she teasingly tells me good night, calls me by those silly nicknames she randomly comes up with, shares all her bizarre dreams and listens to me talk about mine... I'm in love with it.

When my dark thoughts take over, typically when I'm overworked or in a depressive episode at night, the thing I want to do the most is to text or call her. When something positive happens in my life (which honestly isn't that often of an occurrence), the person I want to share it with is her.

But the clearest sign of my crush on her is my jealousy. We have a mutual friend, whom I shall call Hana, who is by my perception closer to her. My main reason for this conclusion is that while I've given Silvia numerous gifts, she hasn't given me as many and yet she's given Hana quite a lot. That is not to assume she treats Hana better than she treats me objectively — for all I know, maybe Hana has given her more gifts herself, but that would suggest even more strongly that the two of them are closer.

Wow...I'm reading the above paragraph right after I finished writing it. What an over-analysis, huh?

I got quite jealous for sure, even verging on resentment towards Hana. So what did I do?

I befriended Hana. I made sure to be as nice to her as possible. I did it to the point where Hana explicitly told me that I'm one of the coolest girls she's met, and I feigned confidence in response, telling her that being thought of as cool is a great source of motivation to become even cooler.

Genuinely, Hana is an absolute sweetie. If it weren't for my unrequited (and unknown) feelings for Silvia, I'm sure I could be very close friends with her. In fact, if my feelings weren't in the way, the three of us could be such an iconic trio of best friends. Silvia, the most sociable and experienced in life to enlighten us with knowledge and hope; Hana, the "cinnamon roll" who deserves to be totally spoiled by us like a little sister; me, the cool one who brings tons of laughter and will wholeheartedly support my besties through any difficult situation.

If only I wasn't so petty.

If...only...I...wasn't...in...love.

Of course, my feelings can NOT become known. At the very least not right now, not in my current mental state — to put it simply, I haven't been my best self. I'm still depressed and anxious half the time, barely finding a direction in life. Silvia is like a beam of sunshine in my gloom-filled world, and I'm quite certain a romantic confession would ruin our friendship. Even if Silvia herself is unfazed by it, I know I would feel embarrassed to the point where my depression would worsen into an endless spiral, ultimately leading to an emotional explosion and to me losing even more than our friendship.

Plus, Silvia has a husband whom I'm also acquainted with. I can't do this to a married couple, even if the most likely outcome is that they'll just see me as a younger friend who developed an insignificant crush that'll naturally fade with aging.

So for now, I must keep lying. It's a harmless lie.

Well, I guess it's a little harmful to myself...but in this situation the truth is more harmful. And the truth is potentially harmful to other parties as well. So it's only clear which way the scale should tilt.

Silvia, Hana, I want to become close friends with both of you in the future, when I'm out of my mental health limbo. This part I'll never lie about.

Ei, you're in love with Silvia right now, that's okay and I allow you to possess this crush for as long as you feel it...but you must not make it known to anyone who knows you in real life. Hence why I'm allowing for this entry to be written. But this is where it stops, alright?

If questioned, you just lie. You tell them that you're still battling depression and other mental illnesses. Say you're slowly healing, which isn't a lie really. It's modified truth and it's the option that does minimal damage.

With warmth and hopefulness,

#mental health #online diary #personal journal #depression blogging #self reflection #self growth #friendship #unrequited love

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eclaisse · 3 months

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2024 Week 5

I need to get better about writing these blog posts on a timely basis. Originally I was using Twitter for every thought that popped into my head and posting it immediately, but I got tired and embarrassed by that very quickly.

I have multiple Twitter accounts and have been using the platform since 2016 I think. My main Twitter has a lovely selection of posts— art from my favorite artists, cute foods, different sciences, psychology, astrology, and funny memes. Then there's one I made as a VTuber and one I made for art after the last account was hacked. I don't check the VTuber one anymore because it's full of VTuber drama or overtly sexual humor. I understand that's part of the appeal of VTubers, but the jokes are so corny and make me cringe quite a bit. It makes me feel like I'm back in high school with a bunch of obnoxious students yelling dumb jokes as the teacher is trying to speak. Very specific, I know, but I think we've all experienced something like that.

The art Twitter isn't any better since I follow some VTuber mutuals on there. The people I follow are fine, but on the timeline I still see dumb posts with people either stirring up drama, spreading misinformation, or being overly dramatic about simple things. The memes on there are also super outdated— like stuff I saw back when I was still on Tumblr is making rounds again and people are eating it up. It's just become very off-putting to be there. I did have a lot of fun posting daily as a challenge though. It was a good exercise in research to see what kinds of posts were doing well. And I do like the mutuals I made through streaming, they are all very sweet people. I want to stay connected with them if possible.

I've been brainstorming other ways to pursue "content creation" (I hate that phrase). I just want to share my work with others and bond with them over it. I don't desire to be famous or have a community, I just want to have fun with my hobbies and interact with people.

Maybe it's better if I make a text document and update that like a Twitter every day for the week, and then compile them all into a post on Saturday or something like that. I will think about how to continue the consistency. This is probably the clunkiest post I've made because the sentences are so abrupt and short. But right now I just want to get my thoughts across.

Nothing super interesting happened this week I guess. I found a new dentist and set up an appointment with them, which is early tomorrow morning. I need to schedule a checkup next, but maybe I will wait a bit for that. I want to get a blood panel done this year and see how I'm doing. Work was dull this week because I barely had anything to do— and then suddenly I had to repeat one task three times, which was annoying but no one's fault.

It's been storming a lot so I made a tasty soup today. I used the chicken stock I made and froze a few months back, and added wood ear mushrooms, shimeji mushrooms, baby bok choy, green onions, soy sauce, sesame oil, and noodles. The broth tasted especially good after the ingredients simmered in it for a while. I want to try making it again. I want to make a heartier one though since this was a very light vegetarian soup.

The storm was making me feel anxious though, the tree outside was waving its branches wildly and bending to the winds. the wind and water hitting against the outside surfaces of the house was also a bit eerie to hear. My fear is that the roof will crumble and place will flood, though I think the place is a lot more structurally sound than that. I have enough food and a giant flashlight if I do lose power (many of my friends already did today) so I will just try to be careful.

#zari writes #2024 #feb 2024 #february 2024

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lionheartslowstart · 8 months

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Moved In (Again)

The last month or so has been pretty hectic and definitely stressful. My boyfriend "Thomas" and I finally moved out of the horrible apartment we were living in. While I initially liked the idea of moving back to the city, it was just so not what we thought it was going to be.

Obviously, the main issue was finances. Living in the city, really any of the five boroughs, has become exponentially more expensive than it was when I lived there seven years ago. And the type of job Thomas has requires a lot of commuting (which also adds up after a while), so it was just not a sustainable situation. On top of cost, I realized that living in the city is just not what I want anymore, which honestly makes me really sad. Several years ago, I thrived in New York. I loved living in that kind of apartment and joining in on the hustle and bustle every day. The only reason I left was because my POS ex forced me to. Maybe it's because I'm older, or because I have different needs now, but I came to the hard realization that, while I adore Manhattan, it's just not the kind of environment I can thrive in anymore. It does kind of make sense, when I think about how attached I've become to LA, and the kind of lifestyle that's over there, that I would in turn end up floating away from the NYC lifestyle. But I'm sad anyway, because I'm still losing something. And I can't help but be angry at my ex for that too. Just something else he stole from me.

But I digress. Funnily enough, we were able to move back to my old apartment building, though it is (thankfully) a different unit. I always had a good relationship with the management team there, so when I reached out to them to let them know we were moving again and ask if they had any availabilities, they were thrilled! They told me I was a model tenant, and they would love to have me back. I'm lucky I had an in, because they only had ONE apartment available and they weren't even advertising it online.

Thomas and I fell in love with the apartment as soon as we saw it. It's almost one thousand square feet, bigger than any apartment either of us had ever lived in. It even has a cute little den area where we keep the desk, the bookcase, and all of our witchy things. The living room is spacious, with enough room to put up the pole, and the bedroom is perfect: not so big that it feels weirdly empty, and not so small that you have to squeeze around the furniture. The layout is fantastic, and there's tons of room for our various art, with still plenty of wall space to spare! Unfortunately, due to the model of the unit and its layout relative to the rest of the building, we had to give up the balcony, but we mutually decided that was the right call. Again, ours was the only available unit at the time, and we wanted to pounce on it before anyone else could snap it up. But even if there were other units available, we probably still would have gone with this one. I can't explain it, but it just feels so..."us."

The application process was super smooth. Management even agreed to put our applications in a few weeks early, because they really wanted us to be the people to get it! Then it was just cleaning the old place, packing all our stuff, moving our furniture and things, unpacking our stuff, and (my favorite part) organizing our stuff. Those few weeks were the most stressed I'd been in quite some time. But now, we're finally more or less settled. We just have to finish hooking up all our gaming systems, do some cleaning, and then there's just a few odds and ends here and there (like figuring out where the heck to hang the Pride flags), and we're all done!

We've only been officially living here for just under a month, but we're SO much happier than we were in Brooklyn. It's such a great space, and we're both familiar with the area. I'm familiar with the area because I grew up not far from here. Thomas is familiar with the area because he did live in my old place with me for a couple of months before we moved to the city, and that man has the memory of a steel trap. Additionally, we're only about 40 minutes from my parents now, when we used to have to drive almost two hours to get to their house! Of course, we're still pretty far from Thomas' folks, but you'd be surprised what a difference an hour makes when you're driving long distance. We're also not too far from the city. The commute using public transport is easy and not terribly expensive, so it's there when we want to go visit. But we also happen to be sandwiched between a small city and a large town, both of which have great restaurants and fun recreational activities available. So it's really a win-win. We'll have fun no matter where we go!

I'm so excited to start a new life here with the person I love. The energy in this space is so much brighter, warmer, and happier than it has been anywhere I've lived before. I may not want to stay in New York forever, but this finally feels like home.

#personal #moving #life #growth #change

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catcrumb · 2 years

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How do you stay motivated to do dailies? I really admire your dedication to these funky fresh cats. I've tried doing my own dailies (drawing, writing etc), but always lose steam about a week in. Was there a point when it became second nature, and just fit really easily into your routine? Or is it always going to be a bit of an uphill battle?

my big rule is that it doesn't have to be "good." that was the first and still the most important rule. some days i have the willpower to get out my tablet! some days i have my mouse! and some days i just wiggle my finger in the shape of a cat on my laptop's trackpad, slap some random thought i had onto it, and hit that post button. doesn't have to be perfect. doesn't have to be a work of art. could look like complete shit. just has to be a cat.

like this guy? very low effort! i had a headache that evening after doing a bunch of things i needed to do, and was like "ah fuck i still gotta do today's catcrumb". this took me thirty seconds. but that was that day.

something that has also helped me a lot is making my rule "one per day", not "once per day". after drawing the one i posted tonight, i drew two more doodles that are gonna be tomorrow's and the day after that's catcrumbs. so i don't have to draw for the next day and a half! the queue function is one of the big reasons i really enjoy tumblr as a platform. (the queue, tags as undervoice, tags for archival purposes, easy chronological and sortable archive/portfolio, and the anonymity. not to mention the vibes. also ive been here for over a decade and can't leave)

also, i use mspaint because it has a limited toolset, so it's just less overwhelming and not as daunting as the beefier art program i have for other art. if i had to open up clip studio paint every day....... i would not have lasted two years lmao.

and tbh the limited toolset has made me feel freer to try new things! like with color! when i was drawing mostly in Digital Art Programs and the edges of school papers i rarely ever got to coloring because i would spend so long on the lines. but with mspaint i draw with the pixel-pencil so it's easier to use the fill tool. this is one of my first little "landscapes" :) i drew it in february 2020. i still think about it a lot!

(also, i've found that the landscapes, which i spend more time and effort on, get less of a response than the scribbly ones. which i'm not bothered by, because 1. it makes me feel less pressured to do the big labors of love 2. it makes me feel unashamed when i only have energy for a quick scribble 3. my loved ones adore my little landscapes, and that's more important to me than Number Goes Up. but also it's fun to see the number go up in response to my scribble. it's a win/win.)

and finally there's accountability. i have a very firm rule with myself that i draw for ME, and my followers are a side effect/bonus of me posting it publicly. i do not create for an audience. to quote:

The difference between an inner-directed process of discovery and a kind of outer-directed pseudo-creativity that in its pursuit of attention gets overwhelmed by desperation.

but that doesn't mean that attention doesn't matter to me. i would not have gotten as far as i did if i hadn't shown my art to my friends/mutuals and gotten very sweet responses from them. that was what made catcrumb happen: the people who i know, am close to, and whose kindness is personal to me. i adore and appreciate the kindness of strangers! but it has to come in second to the kindness of friends, because otherwise you will go crazy. i'm pretty lucky that i have the sort of homebody personality that has little interest in strangers, which helps my brain not get rotted by clout.

so i showed my art to my friends, i got encouragement, they thought i was funny, i kept going, because i liked amusing myself and my friends with my little drawings. and then the snowball went further down the hill, etc etc. nowadays my main motivator is that i told my mom about catcrumb and she would definitely say something if i didn't post. sometimes just knowing that someone would notice is enough.

i hope this is useful. i am a person with a couple of brain problems that have made me debilitatingly incapable of forming and maintaining habits my entire life, so i'm honestly shocked that ive managed to keep a daily habit going for two years! ive never managed anything like that before! maybe because it doesn't Matter. i don't do catcrumb for money - ive thought about a patreon, but i couldn't do it. my executive dysfunction is too powerful, and catcrumb has always been about being the teeniest task to execute.

and it makes me smile. i like drawing little cats sitting around smiling or yelling or holding an object. :~)

tl;dr keep the bar as close to the ground as you possibly can

#crumblings #long post*

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pale-silver-comb · 4 years

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So I know absolutely nothing about Leverage except what I've been seeing you post lately and I have to admit you're making it look tempting to watch! Can I ask what are some of your favorite things about the show/reasons you would suggest people watch it? And is there really a poly relationship that is canon?

Okay. Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. I am going to do my best not to just “asdfghkjl” at you and answer coherently.

In a nutshell, Leverage is about 5 people. 4 are criminals (Parker, Hardison, Eliot and Sophie) with different and unique skill-sets and 1 is an ex-insurance investigator (Nate) who, at one point or another in his career, has tracked down (or at least attempted to) the other 4. The whole show is essentially: man reluctantly reforms 4 criminals to use their criminal powers for good and 4 criminals move into man’s life and stubbornly refuse to leave because, goddammit, now they have morals.

I’ve got a lot of favourite things about the show but the main ones are as follows:

1. Found family. And I’m not talking about loners who come together to fight crime and happen to co-exist to the point where they realise they happen to have found themselves a family. I mean, Nate and Sophie are the Drunk Uncle and Wine Aunt who somehow become Mom and Dad to 3 beautiful criminal children. Mom and Dad love their criminal babies and the kids love them (as well as each other, but we’ll come to that in a moment). You get amazing family moments such as: Mom and Dad packing the kids lunch before sending them out to kick corporate greed’s ass; Mom and Dad giving the kids ridiculously expensive and personal Christmas presents causing their most Grumpy Kid to go very very quiet and soft as he runs off to gleefully play with his new murder toy; the kids interrupting Mom and Dad’s big Movie Style Kiss to ask if they can please keep their new underground layer and huffing and puffing when Dad tells them no.

2. Found family: the OT3 edition. To answer your question, the OT3 is indeed canon, confirmed by the creator. Now, usually, “confirmed by the creator” infuriates me because most of the time it’s a way for a creator to be seen as “progressive” without doing anything to actually be progressive. That isn’t the case here. The OT3 are built up carefully and while it is obvious the creators didn’t originally intend for all 3 of them to become a relationship in the romantic sense, by mid-season 5 we are given a very clear picture of where Parker, Hardison and Eliot are heading in their relationship. There aren’t any kisses at the end to signal this but there are solid marriage vows in not only one but two episodes. (And by marriage vows I mean literal equivalents of marriage vows: “for better or worse” and “’til death do us part”. I’m not even exaggerating). The OT3 also doesn’t need explicit romantic narratives to convey how much they love each other. Their love is laced through the whole show, from the way they teach each other things to the way they respond to each other and work as a unit. The way they fiercely protect and admire each other. Like someone once said, if you need characters to kiss or say I love you to let the audience know they love each other, you are writing them wrong.

Aside from that, each of the parings in the OT3 are just. Gah. They are so well done, with friendship being the solid basis for them all. The creators never expect the audience to assume anything about them or fill in the gaps. They give us their relationships on screen and reference many things off-screen to show us how these relationships continue to build in between episodes.

Hardison and Parker are a canon couple and date in the show: it’s approached slowly and they are so goddamned sweet. They are basically every fluffy slow-burn trope with a healthy dash of mutual pining in the mix. They are basically that quote “love is patient, love is kind”. (I would like to add their romance never becomes the focus of the show or overrides the importance of any other relationship they have with the other characters, especially Eliot.)

Hardison and Eliot are the Old Married Couple and from day one are already bickering and looking at each other/making comments that are found in every UST fic ever (not to mention Hardison has a very good knack for making Eliot grin like a little kid, when usually he’s basically an Angry Little Chef Man). They argue, they play, and love each other plain as day.

Parker and Eliot are more subtle but every bit as wonderful. They have an unspoken connection and understand each other on a level no-one else can. Parker and Eliot are not good with giving themselves over to affection for different reasons (and Hardison plays a central role in helping them realise it’s okay to want it and have it- that boy has endless patience) but there is something so beautiful in the way the two of them come together on their own and develop their own special bond that works for them. Parker and Eliot are that trope where the characters don’t need to speak to understand each other perfectly. They just do. Their love language is a lot of the time non-verbal but speaks volumes. (Parker also likes to annoy the hell out of Eliot and Eliot....just.....lets...her. Because he’s soft. The softest, grumpiest boy.)

I could go into so much depth for each pairing and their dynamics as a 3 but that's for another post.

3. Subverting stereotypes. There is the occasional hiccup in the show regarding stereotypes but ultimately, Leverage gets an A+ when it comes to writing characters and making them 3 dimensional people who are not defined by certain characteristics or events. Nate could so easily fall into the White Man Pain trope where he uses the trauma of losing his kid as a reason as to why he is entitled to act like a dick. Nate is a dick but he doesn’t use his pain to excuse it and I appreciate that. Hardison is a black man who is soft and nurturing. Easily the most empathetic and patient of the group. He’s nerdy, an actual genius, and has the biggest heart of all the characters. Nate is maybe the glue but Hardison is definitely the heart. Media’s usual aggressive, amongst other, racist stereotypes can fuck right off. Parker is canonically autistic (I am sure this was confirmed by one of the creators) and she is not defined by it. It’s not written as some kind of singular personality trait. It’s part of what makes up Parker but it’s only one facet of who she is and not once is her actions, thoughts or feelings treated like a joke. Sometimes people don’t understand why she does and says the things she does but it’s met with patience and fondness over the course of the show. Equally, it’s not met with over-caution. Parker is just Parker. No-one tries to change her. The other nice thing is Hardison, who always makes sure Parker knows she’s amazing because of who she is and not in spite of it. Finally, Sophie is in her 40s. She’s not treated like she’s past her prime. Ever. She’s sexy, smart and never is she pitted against or compared to Parker (who is younger) for anything. Sophie is amazing and there’s never even a conversation of “I may be older but I am still *insert adjective typically associated with younger women here*”. Sophie is possibly the first female character I’ve ever seen who isn’t just unapologetic about her age but has never had to apologise for her age. It’s a non-issue and that’s that. The women on the show are written so well, right down to secondary characters and it’s beyond refreshing.

4.) It’s just fun. The show has a “monster of the week” type format. Except instead of a ghoul or a ghost, the monster is some corrupt wealthy and powerful individual or organisation. The show draws on real-life individuals to do this and therefore closely parallels real-life people and events. It addresses important political, economical, social and environmental issues while at the same time remaining fun and light-hearted. The characters constantly get the chance to play dress up and by GOD do they have fun with it. You get to watch Eliot beat up bad guys in the most delightful of ways, usually after a witty non-sequitur and with a weapon you’d never think could be a weapon. The dialogue and back and forth between the characters is everything. And finally - my favourite thing- the team can never resist striking a dramatic pose after they’ve taken down the bad guy, making sure the bad guy sees them. I mean, they COULD just walk away, satisfied they’ve taken the person down, but nope. They gotta be dramatic bitches 24/7 and pose like they are models for every single month of this year’s Criminal Calendar.

5.) Competence Porn. So. Much. Competence Porn.

Honestly, I could list a thousand reasons for why Leverage is amazing but to list them would to be spoiling so many amazing moments you’d get to discover for the first time on your own if you do choose to watch it. It’s the kind of show you can watch with an eagle-eye and sink your teeth into. But it’s also the kind of show if, you would prefer, put on in the background for something entertaining while you do something else. Each episode is about the job at hand but it’s made up of so many moments between the characters that show how much the creators and writers care about them. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll do whatever it is you do when something Soft and Wonderful happens that makes your heart melt. I am so beyond grateful for Leverage. It’s everything I always wanted in a show. Nearly every show I’ve watched in the past 10 years has disappointed me in some way, usually either because the writers run out of steam or characters who I love are treated poorly or given some kind of unnecessary “shock value” arc. Leverage doesn’t do that. Leverage is what it says on the bottle. Fandom isn’t something I joined because I needed canon fix-its. Fandom only enhances and celebrates an already excellent canon.

#leverage #leverage ot3 #parker #alec hardison #eliot spencer #sophie devereaux #nate ford #talk leverage to me

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