#because OF COURSE it should be but did i really think that pm would canonize that so early on in the season? no i did not.

[willmurdochs]

I thought you’d be pleased I’m no longer reading to her from the periodic table of the elements.

#mmxvi spoilers #mmxvi #spoilers #murdoch mysteries #murdochmysteriesedit #periodedit #perioddramaedit #william murdoch #yannick bisson #i don’t like that he’s making fun of george #but i am obsessed with the fact that it’s “uncle george.” #because OF COURSE it should be but did i really think that pm would canonize that so early on in the season? no i did not. #also several good things happened this episode and among them is this damn fool muppet man wandering around holding his daughter #at just about every opportunity. #like you know he has to be absolutely insufferable at work because everything that happens he somehow relates back to his kid. #anyway i can’t wait for susannah to get older so murdoch can tell her about the inevitable heat death of universe at dinner time. #c; william #c; susannah #t; gif #*

[after-witch]

Jungle Gym [Kidnapped Reader + True Knot]

Title: Jungle Gym [Kidnapped Reader + True Knot]

Synopsis: You were supposed to get tortured tonight. Instead, you hid. Companion piece to Pasteurized.

Word count: 1171

notes: kidnapped reader, descriptions of past torture, reader is afab; combination of movie and book canon

At 9 PM, an hour when the sun had set and the sky was deep blue-black and all dotted with stars, you were supposed to head down to the clearing and sit nice and pretty and wait for Rose the Hat to strike the first blow.

Literally, the first blow. This was not some metaphorical musing or purple prose. She usually started your torture sessions (they were, of course, the True Knot’s feeding sessions) with a solid kick to the ribs or the side, to knock you down, and get you in a nice prone position for whatever was coming next.

The sharp pain, she said, was a bit like dropping a steak onto a sizzling hot pain. It gave your flavor a nice crust. 

You had done this dutifully for some years now. When you were a child, they dragged you there or Crow Daddy took your hand and led you there without giving you room to struggle; you had no choice. As you got older, it became something of a chore marked on a calendar. 

Friday: Make bed, wash dishes, head down to the bonfire to get tortured for hours.

It was something you did because you were supposed to, because the alternative was worse. Because some sick part of you wanted them to like you, and not making them work hard for their food seemed to do just that.

Tonight, though, you didn’t brace yourself and walk down to the clearing. You snuck out of the little camper where you lived with Silent Sarey and crawled, silent as you please, to the creaky old playground set up away from camp. A public playground where anyone staying at the campground could go.

It was a stupid move, in all respects. They would find you. They would hurt you more for giving them trouble. Especially when they treated you so well; that was always the line when you were younger. You should be grateful that they didn’t chain you up like a dog in the dark.

And you were grateful, most of the time. Really. Truly. You were grateful every time you got a birthday cake or Rose the Hat had a civil conversation instead of sneering at you like a smart-mouthed roast dinner. You were grateful for your bed and your notebooks and your magazines. 

You were grateful for Crow Daddy--your daddy--who made sure you got schooling and took you to the movies and always treated you with care, so long as you acted right.

But there was only so much pain you could take. And tonight, you could take no more.

Not that it mattered what you could take.

It’s Crow Daddy who finds you. And you know that it was probably on purpose, because he’s the only one whose presence wouldn’t immediately make you want to bolt. To convince you to come willingly, so there wouldn’t be a scene. If they were fine with you screaming and kicking, they might have sent Barry to drag you by your armpits or heaven forbid, Rose, all simmering anger to draw you out with threats.

But instead it’s Crow Daddy who kneels in front of the jungle gym. It was the only piece of equipment big enough for you to fit under. Woodchips dig into your thighs, and you shift uncomfortably on the ground. 

“Hey, there,” he says. Casual as you please. Like you weren’t tucked under a piece of playground equipment at night, hiding from your tormentors. 

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek and keep your eyes staring down at your lap. If you don’t talk, you can stay here longer. Delay the inevitable. 

He sighs, a slow, soft sound in the night. Crickets sing behind his breath. 

“Well. Didn’t think you hated me so much, honey.”

Something lurches in your chest, and you look up. The moonlight plays on Crow Daddy’s face. He looks serious and sad and Christ, worst of all, disappointed in you. 

“What? No, I don’t hate you, I-”

Crow Daddy shakes his head, cutting you off. “You want me to starve, is that it? Me and Miss Rose? And Grandpa Flick, too? You saw he’s been using a cane lately. But I guess you want him to go on hurtin’.” 

Tears prick at your eyes. Grandpa Flick had been walking stiffly the past few weeks. Rose had been helping him up and down. He didn’t have the skip in his step that he got right after, well--right after he fed on your tortured, nourishing steam. 

Was it wrong, to feel bad for him? He was one of the people who kidnapped you, but he wasn’t so bad when he was in a good mood. He got you presents and patted your head and told you old, old, old stories.

And Crow Daddy, of course, of course you didn’t want him to hurt.

“I don’t want you to starve, daddy. Or Miss Rose or anyone. I would never…”  You would never what, you think? Never run away? It wasn’t a possibility. Never deny them food? You didn’t have a choice. 

He gestures for you to come closer, and you obey. The wood chips dig into your knees as you crawl out from underneath the jungle gym and sit in front of Crow Daddy, who gives you a once over.

“Then why are you hiding when you know it’s supper, hm?”

There are a million things you could say. 

All you do is whimper stupidly. The ghosts of pains past ripple through your memory. The knives, the beatings. The crowbars. The hornets. 

“It’ll hurt.”

Crow Daddy puts one firm hand on your shoulder.

“I know, sweetheart. It’s gotta hurt, though. Don’t you want us to stay nice and strong?”

You nod. There’s only one answer he wants. He’s kind enough to take your hand and lead you right to it. 

“Yes, daddy.”

His serious frown breaks into a smile, and you smile, too. Not because you’re happy but because when he smiles it means he’s not disappointed in you and in this big fucked up world, that’s all you have. 

He chucks your chin with his fingers.

“That’s my girl.” 

He stands, and extends his hand, and you take it. He grips it tight as he leads you away from the playground and towards the flickering light of the bonfire in the distance. You try not to fight against what’s coming, which will surely be worse than whatever they had planned originally. Instead you just accept it. Accept that you’re going to walk straight into a den of creatures that are going to hurt you until your throat is bleeding raw from the screams.

You wonder: will your bittersweet acceptance tonight add a new flavor to the taste of your steam? 

And did it matter? What truly mattered was the pain. It was the pain that purified your steam and made it filling and nourishing, like ultra-concentrated vitamins that they inhaled in the darkness of the night.

After all--

It’s gotta hurt.

#doctor sleep #doctor sleep fanfiction #true knot #fanfiction #reader imagine #afterwitch writes

[coldflasher]

Okay I'm sure we all have spent way too much time thinking about speedster biology in various contexts for fic reasons, but you know what I cannot stop thinking about? How does speedster biology affect the menstrual cycle???

It must do, right? It has so many effects on the body---rapid metabolism, speed healing, potentially immortality (let's not open that can of worms again lmao), increased cell reproduction rate, etc. There's no way that it doesn't have some effect on their periods.

We know that speedsters (at least those with penises/testes etc.) can reproduce, so clearly it doesn't cause sufficient havoc to make them infertile---though there is some evidence to suggest that it could make it harder to conceive, since it takes Barry and Iris quite a while to get pregnant with Nora (interesting, since I always kinda figured speedster biology would increase the sperm count, but that's probs more to do with fandom brain rot making me convinced speedsters have a higher libido; not sure there was ever any canon evidence of that).

Realistically they probably did this for TV reasons, because by the rules of fiction, TV characters get pregnant easily when they do not want to, but if they're trying, then it will be incredibly difficult and take months to the point that they're like "ugh, we have to have sex AGAIN i guess even though we'd rather be doing literally anything else" (I'm looking at you Flash AND B99, I hate this trope, if sex is becoming a chore maybe you should uh. not do it for a while?)

Also, Jay Garrick and Joan, the only other speedster/normal person couple we know, don't have kids that we know of. Again, maybe they just didn't want them, maybe they met after Joan was menopausal, not sure we ever got confirmation either way, but that could be a point towards the speedforce affecting the reproductive system.

Anyways, either way the show doesn't address how speedster biology affects periods. They probably never thought about it, honestly; everyone knows characters on TV don't have periods, they figure out they're pregnant due to sudden random morning sickness, not a tampon or period tracking app in sight. But EYE am thinking about it.

If every process in the body speeds up, do they have more frequent periods that are just over really quickly? (Not sure if this would be better or worse than the usual kind? Probably worse, defo more annoying.) And if so, what is the hormonal cycle like? Are some speedsters going through mini PMS cycles on a weekly basis? (My thoughts and prayers are with them if so.) Are their periods super irregular? Do their periods maybe stop entirely at some points, due to the strain of constantly running around and the struggle of eating enough to maintain the body weight required to stay regular? This is something that happens with regular old athletes, so it could definitely happen to a speedster that burns a huge amount of calories and is EXTREMELY physically active.

Also, does the healing factor affect the duration of the period? That's one point in favour of a faster cycle, maybe a lighter flow, reduced cramps?? Imagine how much those period hunger cravings would suck when you already have to eat like 15000 calories a day! Like if I, as a person with a standard metabolism, feel the urge to devour everything in sight at that time of the month, how much worse would it be as a speedster for whom "constantly starving" is the default?

Of course, the most boring option is that they're just normal periods, and that's probably what the writers would say, if pushed. that's the coward's answer, tbh, but hey, maybe their periods are normal.  We never see any of the female speedsters on the show attempt to get pregnant, so again, we can't say if they would have difficulties, maybe they'd ovulate totally normally. Maybe Barry and Iris had issues just because sometimes people do just struggle to get pregnant for whatever reason. either way, it's SO interesting to think about.

Anyway this ramble was brought to you by me working on a fic where Iris becomes the Flash instead of Barry and making a throwaway reference to her having PMS and then being like WAIT. WHAT HAPPENS TO HER PERIOD. INQUIRING MINDS NEED TO KNOW.

#meta #cw menstruation #cw periods #cw pregnancy #cw infidelity

[starglow-xx]

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 4)

platonic! mori ougai x f!reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff

previous: the doctor is in the house (quite literally)

author’s note: it’s port mafia time! ages are still one year younger than canon

also!! my 100 followers event still has 7 5 4 3  2  1 spot open for requests!! go check out this post for more info!! i’d like to get the whole prompt list done early so i have time to write them! (event is now closed as of feb. 10, 2021)

another doctor? oh wait, another doctor and his daughter

as you expected, ranpo and fukuzawa have not let you go easy after what had happened a couple days prior (3 days ago to be exact)

one of them, or more often than not, the two of them would go visit the bakery at least twice a day

once in the morning right before opening, and the second time right before closing

if they could, they would visit around lunch time, but that was usually yosano

tbh you were thankful that yosano hasn’t been as overbearing as the other two but you knew she probably wanted to give you a break because holy shit are they extremely over protective

currently, it was the fourth day of being watched by the two eldest ada members, but there were no said ada members with you at the moment

and boy were you overjoyed

turns out, the ada has an important escort job for a government official or smth, and on top of that, fukuzawa has a bunch of meetings to attend

even ranpo has his hands full with a couple of difficult murder cases across the country

you’re lowkey, no highkey, worried bc you learned literally 3 days ago that ranpo doesn’t know how to ride the train 😀😀

you were worried abt them, there’s no question, but on the inside you were a bit relieved to which ranpo called you out on it immediately 

that led to the two of you going at each other’s throats for nearly half an hour

let’s just say fukuzawa scolded the two fo you for a while

going back to the present, it was around one pm and you had just finished sending a text message to both fukuzawa and ranpo (cause they insisted) when a little blonde girl with blue eyes wearing a red dress matching with a red bow in her hair and red shoes walked in

she immediately went to the glass case to look at the desserts displayed

as she looked around, you watched her at the corner of your eyes and a with a smile as you wiped down one of the tables

after wiping down the table, you quickly went to go wash your hands and you walked over and stood next to her

you bent slightly and smiled bigger as she stared at one of the treats in the glass

“is that the one you want?”

she nodded without looking away from the glass

you giggled before going to the back and placing the one she wanted on the plate and held it out to her

the blonde was honestly so confused bc one, no adult supervision, and two, there was no tell tale way to know that she had money

to you, she was an open book so when she looked at you, her face immediately read “but i have no money, or a parent...??”

you simply patted her head and pushed along to one of the nearby tables and pulled a chair for her

you did not regret anything when you saw the look on her face when you told her that it was on the house

“name’s elise!” “i’m (y/n)!”

:D

you sat with her for a while continuing to give her sweets she reminded you of ranpo in all honestly and talking abt random things

she mostly complained abt a “rintarou” though

speaking of which, when a man in a doctor’s coat came through the door near screaming “elise-chan! elise-chan!” you figured that was probably the rintarou she was complaining abt

you smiled as you watched the two interact

“elise-chan why would just disappear like that?!”

“i wanted to see rintarou cry”

“so mean!”

...their behavior was questionable but endearing ig

“rintarou” suddenly turned to you, thanking you for “taking care of his daughter bc she’s always getting into trouble”

*cue angry noises and face from elise*

he introduced himself as a “local neighborhood doctor”

you smelled bullshit but didn’t say anything bc he has been kind to you so far

he asked you how he could repay you and you were thinking that you can actually win something bc you’re not refusing an ada member oh you poor oblivious child but you were appalled when elise answered for you

it went like this

“is there anything i can repay you with for taking care of my dear elise-chan? perhaps paying for all the sweets she has eaten?”

“oh no! don’t worry abt that, it’s nothing! it was a pleasure getting to know—”

“let’s buy out all of her food!”

h u h

you knew she enjoyed your pastries and stuff but like w h a t

you inwardly sigh in relief when the doctor agreed with you that “that’s a bit much elise-chan” and you were thanking every deity out there when suddenly

she threw a temper tantrum

you watched in confusion and slight horror at the 180 of the sweet little girl you were talking to like 10 minutes ago

her guardian panicked slightly and tried to get her to calm down but ahaha no that didn’t happen

“WAHH rintarou!! but i want it!! (y/n)’s food is the best i’ve ever had!!”

“b-but elise-chan, we can’t just buy—”

“i’ll wear all the dresses i’ve ever rejected and more if we buy it out right now and keep buying sweets here forever”

“...deal”

your eyes twitch at the “innocent” smiles the two gave you after their “talk”

fast forward literally 5 minutes and you’ve already flipped the close sign on your door with note (saying you’re sold out) and you’re all over the place running around behind the counter trying to fit everything into boxes as the two are sitting on a nearby table lightly chatting

about 20-25, nearly 30 minutes later you finishing packing everything in the glass case

it was a lot

we’re literally talking about tiered cakes and dozens of batches of cookies, cupcakes, literally everything and anything

when the two notice you’re done they get up meet you by the register

“a-ano, you really don’t have to buy all of this...the total is going to be quite large...”

“no worries!”

honestly at this point, you kind of missed the chaotic calls from ranpo that happened like every half hour

you thought you were done being surprised for the day but next thing you know men in suits come into Sakura’s and begin to load the boxes into a black car

dealing with the detectives was already starting to be a handful and now you have to deal whoever the hell these two people where

quite frankly, you were having trouble wrapping your head around all of this

like-

who buys out a whole bakery?!

and who has the money to buy out a whole bakery?!

what kind of job could you possibly have?!

was this guy really just a doctor?!

right before the two leave you call out to them

“a-ah wait! i don’t think i ever caught your name!”

the two blink at you before eyeing each other

“mori ougai” 😄😄

you started smelling bad shits again 

>:/

it was a weird feeling

you felt something off but at the same time, you weren’t really afraid 

and with that the two left

you were already tired from this whole thing but you now get the rest of the day off

so i guess something worked out in your favor

until the next fricking day

again, ranpo and fukuzawa canceled out on you

you weren’t sure if you were relieved or not

and as soon as you thought you were going to have a normal business day, guess who walked through the doors

yeah that’s right

“the local neighborhood doctor” and his daughter

you froze before eyeing them with suspicion

if mori was amused, he didn’t show it, only giving you a smile

elise immediately left his side and practically leaped onto you making you cut yourself with the knife you were holding

well shit now you’re bleeding

it was only 7:15 in the morning; you had literally just opened

you were cursing every deity out there

you quickly grab a nearby and press it against your wound and scrambled around looking for the first aid kit you had nearby

“oh? (y/n)-kun are you bleeding?”

“(y/n) i’m sorry!”

“a-ah, no worries elise-chan”

you really need to stop spacing out bc next thing you know, the sign on your door is flipped to close again (along with the same note from yesterday explaining you’re sold out taped on the door) and you’re sitting at a table with elise in your lap and mori wrapping your hand in a bandage

“tsk tsk (y/n)-kun you need to be more careful...but it is elise-chan’s fault”

“die rintarou!”

“but no worries! it’s not that deep so you don’t need stitches”

“thank you, mori-san, but can i ask why you and elise-chan are here again? not that i mind...”

whether or not you were lying is up to you

“oh we’re here to buy out your stock again!”

“wait what-”

the fuck???

did they not just buy everything yesterday???

frozen, you stare at the man in front if you with said man giving you another “innocent” smile

this little shit

wait till you meet dazai

but i guess that’s why the sign on the door is flipped to close bc you don’t even remember flipping it yourself or taping the note from yesterday to the door

you spent the next half hour trying to convince the two over some tea (your signature one of course) that “no you don’t need to or should buy everything i have, you’re going to deprive the rest of my customers”

cough cough ranpo

like the day before, you were losing this argument

can you just never win?

as you were losing the argument (obviously) you realized that you don’t even know why they want to buy everything again

“mori-san, why do the two of you even want to buy everything in the first place?”

“ah it was elise-chan’s request of course! but i do admit, after trying some of your sweets myself, i grew quite attached! so did the rest of my subordinates after my precious elise-chan made them try it, not like they could refuse her or me; i am their boss after all (y/n)-kun.”

*cue confusion*

“subordinates? wait are those the guys from yesterday?? aren’t you a doctor...?”

“ah ex-doctor actually, i’m the leader of the port mafia”

...

“ah (y/n)-kun that’s quite the coughing fit you have going on, do you need water?”

if it wasn’t obvious, you choked on your tea and had quite the coughing fit; you were wheezing and everything making elise leave you lap and settling for dangling over mori’s shoulders

“...you’re kidding”

“im afraid im not”

this man confuses the hell out of you??

like-

w h y would he just say that, to you of all people

but it explains the bad shits you were smelling/feeling yesterday

“are you afraid?”

“being completely honest with you, mori-san, not really”

“and why is that?”

you simply shrug not really knowing the answer

you aren’t lying, you just aren’t

maybe bc yesterday, he seemed more like a doting parent than the boss of the most criminal organization of yokohama

yes, you’ve heard the rumors, obviously, but just saying, if the port mafia wanted to hurt you, you’d probably be dead in a ditch by now

and they haven’t really been a bother to you, they were more like background characters in your life

well

until yesterday of course

mori simply raises an eyebrow and a smile seemingly okay with your very vague answer

“why did you tell me that mori-san?”

the man only smiles a bit wider at you and this time, you’re the one raising an eyebrow

“just a feeling” 

yeah you were starting to smell bad shits again

“and besides! elise-chan seems quite fond of you (y/n)-kun! i wasn’t planning on doing anything to you in the first place, but even if i wanted to, i don’t think i could! i wouldn’t want to upset my dearest cute elise-chan”

“die rintarou!”

“that’s mean elise-chan!”

your eyes began to twitch in slight annoyance

cause istg the duality of this man—

this strange strange man

oh dearest you haven’t even met dazai yet

after that has been said and done, somehow you found yourself in front of stores being dragged by elise

how did you end up there you ask? i don’t know either so there’s nothing we can do abt that

eventually, you found yourself holding a bunch of shopping bags full of dresses and clothes of the sort

some of it your size and the others elise’s

...

“mori-san?”

“yes (y/n)-kun?”

“why do i have bags of clothing that are fit for me rather than elise?”

“oh that’s because elise refused to go without you and if you didn’t get anything!”

yeah

that makes perfect sense, of course

you could see why elise kept on complaining abt this guy

the two of you actually bonded over making fun of him

you have n o fear

actually, maybe just a little

the three of you were out for basically the entire day and you were exhausted

cause holy shit there was a lot of money wasted, shopping bags obtained, and walking involved

it was around 5 pm when the three of you were making it back to Sakura’s

along the way you found yourself having a pleasant conversation with mori

even if he was a questionable person to be having a pleasant conversation with, you enjoyed it nonetheless

you hoped that it makes it harder to get rid of you if he ever changed his mind but we don’t talk abt that

anywho

when the three of you arrived, you immediately dumped all the bags you were holding and went straight to work packaging everything for “the local neighborhood doctor”

before they left, mori agreed to not buy out all of your stock except for some occasions but instead settled ordering massive batches of a little bit of everything every few days

how that’s not the same as buying everything you won’t ever know

you were standing outside Sakura’s watching the two get into the car that had arrived when suddenly, mori turned to you

“ah (y/n)-kun, i know that you wouldn’t tell anyone about this, it wouldn’t be like you to, but just a reminder, it would probably be in your best interest not to let anything slip to anyone okay? we wouldn’t want any enemies using you against the port mafia. so take care of yourself hm? see you next time”

and bippity boppity boo just like that, they were gone

how that man managed to get your personality down in just like 10 hours you don’t want to know

and that’s basically the story of how you started making more food/bake goods to sell

true to his word, every few days, or sometimes consecutive days, mori called you and made a large order

and i mean large

on those days, someone from the port mafia would pick it up and then you get paid

thankfully, by increasing the amount of food you made, you always had enough to put out on display and to sell even after the large order

before doing that, on those days you didn’t have a large stock, someone by the name of edogawa ranpo would weep at your feet

he will deny this; after all, great detectives don’t do weeping

or so he says

and speaking of the detective, you never did tell him what had transpired the two days he and fukuzawa were absent on checking on you

but tbh, i even think ranpo could’ve deduct this one

you didn’t tell him bc you were afraid, no of course not that’s ridiculous mori, in elise’s words, was a loser

you didn’t tell him bc you knew he and fukuzawa would flip the fuck out

and that would be a major inconvenience to you

you didn’t see the point in telling them anyway

so whatever, it’s like it’ll be important

and if ranpo and fukuzawa noticed the abundant of bags near the door leading up to the staircase when they visited you at the end of the day they didn’t say anything

jk

of course one of them said smth

“ne (n/n)-chan since when did you like to buy a bunch of things; waste of money if you could just be using that money to make more food so you wouldn’t sell out right away and have food to feed me”

your eyes twitched

he could’ve worded that a little better but whatever

it is ranpo-san after all

“i just got carried away since i closed up early; you know it isn’t often i get to go shopping”

and if he smelled your bullshit he didn’t say anything

for real this time

that slightly concerns you ngl

anyways

let’s just say quite a few heads were turned when they saw their boss leading a bunch of lower level subordinates carrying many light pink boxes of different sizes to his office for the second time

oh and just another thing

*whispers* he was lying when elise made his other subordinates eat your food; they kept it all to themselves”

was that a ruse to help lead the revelation of his real occupation who knows

“(y/n)-kun is a very interesting person don’t you think so elise-chan?”

“quiet. i’m eating cake.”

“that’s so mean elise-chan!”

<<previous // next >>

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[vanilla-vivillon]

So since y’all seemed to like Kanej kid, let’s do Zoyalai kid. Also David isn’t dead in this because it is to sad

||ROW SPOILERS||

TW, this has brief mentions of infertility and describes labor, nothing to graphic just talks about how painful it is

After the wedding zoya and Nikolai were both excited to start a family

Nikolai; while he adores his sister Linnea and his father, never really was able to grow up in a loving household

He never wanted that for his children

He and Vasily had a horrible relationship growing up and he wanted to di everything in his power to make sure his kids had a healthy sibling relationship

Zoya on the other hand never really thought she’d have kids

Before everything went down she kinda assumed she’d work as a general and work to help Grisha

She never thought she’d have children

That obviously had to change

The country needed heirs

Zoya already decided that since she was probably gonna live a loooooong time, when her heir came of age she would step down; that way she wouldn’t love for a super long time.

Now that Zoya was gonna have children she wasn’t honestly sure about

What if they hold her back?

What if she gives up to many duties for them?

But higher the all these other worries she didn’t want to turn into her own mother

No matter how much Nikolai assured her that never will happen

Zoya still had worries

Zoya was a lot of things but motherly she was not

Nevertheless in February Zoya and Nikolai told there friends they were expecting

They were all incredibly happy for them

Tamar loved children although she herself didn’t want any and couldn’t wait to teach the kid things like how to ride a horse or shoot

Tolya objected saying the kid should be well educated on poatry and great works that way the Nazyalensky dynasty might be somewhat pious

Genya was hoping for a girl. Genya and David had there son Forrest earlier that year and Genya was already planning play dates

David was happy for his friends and had already started on projects for toys for the kid

When they wrote Mal and Alina they were ecstatic

While Mal gave tips on how to handle babies to Nikolai

Alina with her wiles and years of friendship with Zoya figured out all the way from Keramzin Zoya was worried

She wrote “Zoya babe imma cut to the chase, your nervous, your scared, your probably worried you’ll turn out to be a horrible mother. And imma tell you your not. Cause you’ve got an amazing freaking team. You’ve got Nikolai, Magnus, Linnea, and Genya and David, the twins, and of course myself. There’s no way in hell we’d let you turn out horrible to the kid. We’ve got you”

It helped Zoya a lot

She decided it was orphan wiles that Alina used to diagnose her exact problem from the letter she wrote to her

And Zoya did have wonderful people to help her

She wasn’t alone

Zoya had been trying to remember that more

Three months along Zoya was safely into Trmester two and it was time to tell the public

This was crucial to the monarchy

While zoya and Nikolai were popular

They needed an heir to convive people of the security of the nation

They made a public speech announcing the baby and Ravka went wild

If there’s one thing Ravkans know how to do it’s rally around babies

Letter came pouring in from name suggestions to old wives tales

They said Rosemary made the baby healthier

They said they should name there child Plumje

Well the Plumje comment was from some Kerch girl Zoya found strange but never mind that

The announcement was huge

The people had hope

Hope that wolves wouldn’t come knocking

Hope that there boys and girls wouldn’t be drafted

Hope for peace

While the people rejoiced Zoyas pregnancy was getting tougher

She had a easy enough first trimester but the second? That was rough

The morning sickness was bad

Her Healer; a no nonsense Fjerdan Women said that the vomiting wasn’t something that could be healed

And so Zoya suffered on

Zoya insisted on keeping her normal schedule

Her usual meetings with Grisha and the spy’s

Passive agressive letters to the Kerch

Aggressive aggressive letters to the shu

And trying to figure out whether or not there was a revolution group in the Wandering Isle

Zoyas schedule was already stressed and the baby wasn’t helping

Eventually her healer; Monika, put her foot down

“Your Magesty” She started “if you do not alleviate your stress I guarantee your pregnancy will be worse”

“Look Monika I can handle a little throw up”

Monika and Zoya attended the little palace together

While Monika was a healer and back then the animosity between corporalki and etherealki were high, they were friends

It was good to have a powerful healer in your corner when half the little palace hates you

And it was good to have a powerful squaller in your corner when your Fjerdan and in enemy territory

“Zoya you are endangering your child” Monika stated

By this statement Nikolai had enough

And zoya finally listened

Nikolai assumed some of her duties and Zoya started to feel a bit better

Her second trimester was stressful for there relationship

Nikolai had a hard time understanding zoya

And Zoyas fears started to grow

But they were a good couple

And they worked through tension before

Zoya opened up about her worries of being a competent queen with a child

She leaned on Nikolai more

And they worked together to fix the damage

By the end of her second trimester there relationship was healthier

And they thought the third couldn’t be as bad

In a way they were right

Her morning sickness while still present was significantly less then her second trimester

However I new thing arose

A question that everyone had been thinking

“What if the baby is Grisha?”

The Ravkans had accepted a Grisha queen

But a Grisha dynasty was another thing

Monika told them outright that the baby was probably Grisha

Being Grisha tended to run in families

And Zoya was fairly sure her paternal grandmother was also a squaller

The whole science of Grisha heritage wasn’t studied well

Most Grisha were in Ravka in the second army

And most of the soldiers don’t have children

Zoya also learned her new found ability to sense Grisha wasn’t fool proof

Sometimes she couldn’t tell at all

And in Genyas case of being somewhere between a corporalki and materialki, she couldn’t tell what she was

She also couldn’t sense anything in Forrest Kostyk

That meant they couldn’t rely on Zoyas power

Nikolai couldn’t help but think tracing heritage would be easier if he wasn’t a bastard

His mother’s line was easy

She was a Fjerdan princess so he could trace everything back from the very start

And from his mother not a drop of Grisha blood ran through his veins

His fathers got murky

Magnus didn’t come from nobility

He was self made

A self made orphan

So other then his father neither he nor Magnus knew anything about Grisha influence

Nevertheless they had other worries

Zoya was in her third trimester and was going to give birth any minute now

Zoya honestly didn’t think she would make it this far

And that has nothing to do with her fears of motherhood

Her own mother had four miscarriages

Pregnancy complications were common

Especially in Ravka where most couldn’t afford mediks

But now that the due date was fast approaching Zoya was in fact okay

Zoya can handle pain, she’s handled much worse

Labor was one of the least of her worries

The due date was October eighth

And on time and punctual Zoya went into labor during lunch

Nikolai joked it would be a good trait for a ruler to show up on time

However Zoya was in to much pain to think about a snarky retort

She had vastly underestimated how much this would hurt

The pain was blinding

But Zoya was strong enough to survive the fall

And so in 3:07 PM son October eighth

Prince Mycanae Juris Nazyalensky was born (prounounced My-kuh-nay-uh because I threw some random vowels together and made it a name)

Myca (My Kuh) for short

With a tuft of chocolate brown hair and beautiful hazel eyes he shone

Nikolai absolutely adored him

He would rock him and sing him lullabies

But mostly tell him stories

About the amazing Privateer Sturmhond

Of the allusive Juris

Of the little termite

Zoya in the other hand had a different approach to there newborn

When he first cried she was elated

Zoya didn’t hold back the tears of happiness and didn’t even swear the healers to secrecy after

Zoya was the epitome of

“Oh god it’s a baby, as I holding him wrong? Does he have the right clothes on? He’s so fragile and precious”

Monika had to tell her three times that Myca’s crib was fine for him and it wasn’t to hard

However the family’s elation was short lived

They were a family

But they were also the rulers of Ravka

And Ravka needed to see the face of there hope

Four hours after his birth Nikolai presented him before the nobility

Zoya still wasn’t feeling to great and Nikolai Insisted he could do it

This is what the Ravkans needed

The baby met stability

Met peace

For once in many years the people could lay down in there beds without fear

But to Zoya and Nikolai

There baby wasn’t a political tool

Or a savior

He was just a baby

A perfect

Small

Baby

This is what love does.

Im really proud of myself for accomplishing this. I worked really hard on it and to keep our characters in canon. My ask box is open and n do any Grishaverse asks

If this gets 25 likes I’ll do a part two 😉

I defo think Nikolai and Zoya would have more then one kid

Also I kid you not I couldn’t find any good names for the life of me so I eventually took a break and was doing my History homework when I was reading some old Greek thing and saw the word “Mycenae” and was like “Yeah I can massively mispronounce this and make it a name”

Here is part two https://dablackdahlia.tumblr.com/post/651104016423583744/the-black-dahlia

I also made a Kanej kid one here

#shadow and bone trilogy #dragon zoya #zoya nazyalensky #row spoilers #rule of wolves spoilers #king of scars #zoya x nikolai #nikolai duology #zoyalai #pregnancy #zoya and nikolai #zoya and Nikolai baby fic #leigh bardugo #the grishaverse #genya safin #david kostyk #genya x david #tolya yul bataar #tolya and tamar #tamar kir bataar #shadow and bone netflix #i worked on this all day #i actually love it #lowkey hate it tho

[fortune-maiden]

How could I NOT ask this about NHS?? but also SQX if you'd like!

Thank you :D (and I would like!)

This got long so under a cut ahaha

Nie Huaisang

How I feel about this character: DIRECTOR NIE MY BELOVED! NHS is my favorite character in mdzs so I am very biased towards him. I really love the younger NHS because he is very relatable with his disinterest in academics, general friendliness, and sheltered upbringing. And I love those things play into his brother's tragedy, and how he transforms from flighty dilettante to ruthless schemer. But imo I still think he's a good person at heart, and isn't out to be the new villain of the cultivation world. -

All the people I ship romantically with this character: XiSang is my OTP, but I also like WangSang & SangNing -

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Nie Brothers! NHS & JZX! NHS & WWX! but also all of the romantic ones above are great platonically too! -

My unpopular opinion about this character: I think the flighty lazy NHS we see in the past story arcs is really how he was back then. He wasn't a secret genius, he wasn't carefully cultivating a useless mask, he wasn't scheming anything more than how to avoid responsibility. He just really was like that and didn't care how it would affect his future. Also, I think he will be more or less fine post-canon. I don't think he's burned all his bridges. -

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon. I wish we had gotten interactions between NHS & NMJ before NMJ's death/saber spirit problems. We're told they had a close relationship but we never really got to see it, and the scenes in NMJ's inquiry were dubious about whether or not he was being poisoned at that point (and even if he wasn't, he was affected by the saber spirit). One of the things I love about the Untamed was that we had these scenes, even if it was just the two of them standing side by side at times. It was very nice to see! I also wish NHS had a little more involvement in the post-Sunshot arc. We don't know any of his thoughts about the events of that time, and I feel like it was a missed opportunity. (My personal headcanon is that he was more or less following the mob when it came to the Yiling Patriarch protecting Wen, though maybe a little more conflicted and trying to understand his old friend until Nie disciples were killed at Koi Tower/Nightless City....and then his brother died and he saw how public opinion turned on NMJ just as it had on WWX...)

Shi Qingxuan

How I feel about this character: WIND MASTER MY BELOVED! I think a lot of what I love about NHS applies to SQX too, but admittedly 'spoiled kindhearted younger sibling with a fan' is where the similarities between them end. SQX is pure-hearted and a bit naive, but is a heroic go-getter, who knows exactly how powerful he is and takes full advantage. SQX was living his best life before the Black Water arc and loving every moment of it! -

All the people I ship romantically with this character: I'm honestly not sure... I like all configurations of PeiXuan, but part of that is because there's not enough content for me to be choosy. I don't think I actually ship SQX romantically with anyone else. (although I had my eyes recently opened to SQX/Ming Yi (real) and I am liking it A LOT) -

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Shiblings! Even if their relationship is as unhealthy as it is loving, they are still so good and love each other so much T_T Also good: SQX & PM (of course), SQX & XL (besties!), SQX & QYZ, SQX & YSH - SQX deserves all the friends! -

My unpopular opinion about this character: I actually don't want him to ascend again. I think SQX should get to have the experience of growing up and living a mortal life. But also please accept some care from your friends/brother's friends. Please go make the most of the fate you were allowed to keep. please go become the Akiyama Shun of TGCF -

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon. Shi Qingxuan did nothing wrong and deserves the world! But I also think his story arc was left a bit incomplete. I really wish we got some kind of extra focused on how SQX's doing and his relationships with the other characters he was close with in the past. And I know I'm just pushing my PeiXuan agenda BUT, I really think there should have been a proper reunion scene for them, especially since prior to the Mt. Tonglu arc, pretty much all interactions with Pei Ming have involved SQX in some way (Pei Ming's grand in-person intro after the Banyue arc? SQX is there heckling him. Pei Ming's intrusion into Puqi Shrine? SQX is there to dump a pickle jar on him. Pei Ming's entire involvement in the Black Water arc? Chasing down SQX. The grand total of 2 times SQX is mentioned after disappearance? Both times involve Pei Ming) The way their relationship just gets completely dropped after SQX's reappearance is very unsatisfying!

#Thank you! :D #nie huaisang #shi qingxuan #tgcf #mdzs #also featuring peixuan ramblings because what else do you expect from me #and some nhs headcanons because we were robbed of post-sunshot nhs

[frostironfudge]

Rush - Tom Hiddleston (Chapter 25)

Summary: Chapter 25 of Rush - Tom Hiddleston (check warnings please)

here is my main masterlist , my ao3,

fanfic masterlist

< Chapter 24

Epilogue >

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader, a few original characters. Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of guns, mentions hospitals, wounds, character death, kind of gorey, canon level violence.

A.N: i'm in tears this is the last chapter, i can't believe i'm posting this, i hope all of you reading will enjoy this chapter.

Words: 5374

-----------

> 1800 Hours (6 PM)

“No.”

“I am not asking or taking your word into consideration.”

“You promised.”

“Promises require honesty.”

“W-What?”

“You haven’t been honest, just because I covered for you in front of your brother and the others does not mean, that I am all okay about you being some secret sort of mob boss.”

“Tom… It’s not like that, I—,”

“Just get into the other ambulance, Y/N, I can’t act anymore.”

“Is this some kind of ploy to get me away?”

“No.”

“Are we going to talk about this reasonably?”

Tom doesn’t reply, she turns retreating toward her designated ambulance.

> 1825 Hours (6:25PM)

“Did she buy it?” Fox enquires as he settles into the empty EMT seat, next to Florence.

Bile rose up to Tom’s throat as he replayed the exchange between Y/N and himself. The absolute despair on her features wrecked him with guilt.

“She thinks or rather believes I am going to leave her.” Tom solemnly replies, resting his head back, looking upward to curb the tears.

“Did you really not know?” Fox looks at Tom, he seemed so sure yesterday. He also understands the heartache of having to break a heart that trusts you.

“I overheard her speaking to Veronica, they were discussing about telling me. She was going to on the flight to meet Pierce and Lee.” Tom explained.

“Why on the flight? So you couldn’t run?” He tries joking.

“She was going to leave everything to Veronica so she could,” Tom exhales prolonged.

“So she could stay peacefully with you.” Fox completes, shaking his head, “She really loves you.” He concluded.

“I love her as well.” Tom feels a weight pressing onto his shoulders, whether it is the guilt or the soreness he cannot decipher.

“All units being tailed, Over.” Pierce’s voice enters over the comms.

“Continue course to avoid suspicion of knowledge, Over.” Lee replies.

“You’re an idiot.” They tell Tom.

“Why?”

“Could have just told her the plan.” They shrugged, “She would be at ease and not freaking out over the conversation.”

“What do you think, Florence?” Fox grins at her.

“I don’t know the full tale so I won’t voice an opinion.” She gives Fox a side eye.

“He’s an idiot.” Xu Xialing calls out as she takes the designated turn.

“Told you.” Lee pats his shoulder, “Just talk to her once we reach the safe house.” They advise, Tom nods.

> 1857 Hours (6:57PM)

“Should I check her vitals?” Benedict looks at Pierce the usual gurney is replaced by a table with a command central set up.

“Hmm?” Pierce follows his gaze to Y/N, who is sitting in the opposite EMT chair staring blankly at her hands.

“Go ahead.” Pierce swears as she looks back at the screen,

“Ambulance Firecracker abandoned, Over.” She informs over the comms.

“Continue on course, check for add ons, Over.” Lee responds immediately.

“Ambulance Firecracker maintain course to destination, Over.” Pierce instructs.

“Roger that, Over.”

“Hey,” Benedict sits in front of Y/N, bringing her out of her daze.

“Did something happen?” She looks around, confused.

“You were lost in thought, just wanted to check in, you spaced out and your file mentioned a concussion.” He offers her a warm smile.

“Do you want to check?” She wonders, he nods.

“Basic Neuro Exam.” He informs her, bringing out a pen torch, flashing it across her eyes, as he checks the reflex and eye movements and basic questions for cognitive function.

“All good.” He smiles again before going to sit.

“Thank you” Y/N smiles back, she looks at Pierce whose eyebrows are furrowed in concentration.

Live feed from the strategically placed cameras aiding in picking up the formations.

“Ambulance Thunder abandoned, Over.”

“Stay on course, Over.”

“Pierce?” Chris calls out.

Benedict, Y/N and Pierce all look towards Chris.

“We’re being tailed a little more now.” He calls out, staying on course, no shift in speed.

Pierce switches screens, Y/N looks over her shoulder sure enough the formation of five black Audi Q5s is familiar.

“Its them, they got us in the same formation.” Y/N adds as Pierce raises the walkie,

“Ambulance Sunrise is being tailed heavily, Over.”

> 1915 Hours (7:15 PM)

“Ambulance Sunrise is being tailed heavily, Over.”

Tom’s head snaps up in worry, Lee pulls up the feed on their iPad, turning it to show Fox and Tom.

“We change the route.” Fox decrees.

“Agreed.”

“What—Y/N give the comm back!” Pierce yells over the comms.

“Just wait would you? They’re idiots they’ll change course for us and it will give away someone of importance is in the ambulance.” Y/N explains.

“They probably heard you. You’re pressing the button.” Pierce scrambles to get the walkie out of her hand.

“What Y/N said, Over.” Pierce huffs as she rolls her eyes.

Lee looks at Tom and Fox, “I agree with Y/N. The chance of suspicion is high.”

Tom rubs the back of his neck in contemplation.

“What if everyone switches routes?” Fox suggests.

“Could work.” Tom adds, “If everyone switches then it could work.”

“Ambulance Storm, no longer being trailed, Over.” Pierce adds.

Lee raises their walkie, “All units switch to route 5, Over.”

“Copy that, Over.” All drivers respond.

> 1935 Hours (7:35PM)

“Pierce, we’re still being tailed.” Chris calls out, frustrated.

“Can you do something about it?” Pierce wonders.

“I could—, Fuck.” Chris swerves the ambulance as a Sedan stops right in front of them.

Everyone shifts as the force makes them turn.

“Ambulance Sunrise, sedan unmarked, make ford, model not noted number 56–, what the, another sedan suddenly stopped! Over!” Chris communicates over his walkie as they swerve the opposite way switching lanes again.

“Passenger status? Over.” Tom’s voice is laced with urgency.

“All clear, uninjured, Over.” Pierce recounts.

Y/N grips the side of Pierce’s seat, still standing.

“You need to sit or you will injure yourself.” Benedict calls out, she nods.

As the ambulance stabilises, she makes her way back to the empty seat.

“Wear your belt.” Benedict urges. She follows through.

“Similar event with us, Over.” Xu Xialing’s voice comes through the comms.

“Passenger Status, Over.” Pierce bites her lip.

“All clear, uninjured. Over.” Lee assures and Pierce breathes again.

> 2015 Hours (8:15 PM)

Fox’s phone rings, an unknown number gracing the screen.

Their last check in with everyone was nine minutes ago on schedule.

“Pick up.” Tom and Lee say together.

Fox places the call on speaker phone,“Hello?”

“Hello Fox.” Valarie chimes cheerfully.

“Valarie, did you change your number?” Fox dryly adds.

“I just figured you love the thrill of these things don’t you?” Valarie looks at the ambulance in front of her.

“What do you mean?” Fox’s reply makes her smile.

“Oh little sly Fox, remember the money you paid us to find Raconteuse? I invested in heat signature trackers,” Valarie pauses as the click of a lighter is heard.

Fox looks between Tom and Lee.

Lee begins texting Pierce.

Valarie exhales audibly; “Raconteuse looks so sweet all safe inside the Ambulance on the M6.”

“What do you want from her Valarie?” Fox answers too quickly.

“Thank you for confirming my suspicion.” She laughs, “So easy when you respond emotionally.”

“Don’t you dare touch her.” Fox warns.

“Oh I won’t touch her, sweetheart, just going to end her.” The line goes dead.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” Fox groans, grabbing the nearest bottle of water and throwing it to the floor.

“Lee can we switch routes?” Tom’s mind is racing they need to switch lanes to take the next exit to reach Y/N.

“Ambulance Sunrise, do you copy? Over.” Lee’s voice does not convey the distress held in their stance.

“I swear to fucking everything if even a small scratch is on Pierce, I’ll beat you two to ending Valarie.” They spit out.

“Ambulance Sunrise? Come in. Over.” Lee tries again.

“Fuck.” Lee shoves the walkie in Tom’s hand and opens up the feed from the cameras around the ambulance.

Tom feels his heart stop for the second time as the angel of the camera tilts and the screen statics out.

“Switch it, get to them now.” Tom bellows at Xu, she mades a hard right just in time to take the exit, the sirens now on to utilise the traffic to their benefit.

> 2005 Hours (8:05PM)

“All units on course, only Sunrise, Archer and Disco are being trailed, Over.” Pierce speaks into the walkie.

“Who came up with the names?” Chris wonders.

“Veronica did.” Benedict answers, recalling the random questions that were asked for words.

Chris laughs, “Bet Disco is having fun playing music.”

“Yeah the playlist is fire.” Pierce chuckles.

“Why can’t we play music?” Chris pouts.

“Cause we’re serious.”

“Are we though?” Chris laughs again.

“Yes, now focus.” Pierce shakes her head.

Y/N looks along at her burner phone, fingers hovering over the send button to text, Tom. A simple, ‘Can we speak about what happened?’ Weighing too much on her screen.

“Look,” Pierce calls Y/N’s attention.

“Their formation hasn’t wavered, they possibly have suspicion or reasonable doubt.” She adds.

“They had done a barricade, to stop us last time.” Y/N recounts.

“Well I’m making the exit then.” Chris informs.

“Why?” Benedict peers through the small window between their sections.

Sure enough there are road closure signs and the lanes is being narrowed down to one.

“Thats why.” Chris points at the scene ahead.

“He’s right.” Benedict looks back at the two women.

“What if they want us to take the exit?” Y/N question.

“It is likely.” Pierce adds.

“We’re being tailed so we have to chose best of 3 options. And fast.” Chris reminds.

Y/N shares a look with Pierce, she raises the walkie but before she can speak the ambulance is hit from the right. Her walkie drops as do several computer screens.

Chris speeds up the ambulance now turned due to impact, circling around to face car that drove into them.

He shifts into reverse and climbs the exit ramp, as the car follows them head on.

Benedict reaches for the ammunition hidden under his seat, placing them in their respective holsters on his person.

Chris breaks and turns the car, the headlight knocked by the impact with the SUV chasing after them.

Bullet indents grace the side of their vehicle as the glass from the back shatters across the floor.

“They know.” Pierce mutters bringing her phone out, she’s texting Lee that they have been compromised.

“Brace for impact.” Chris shouts, as the Ambulance shifts tilting over; the bullets having bursted two tyres.

For a few minutes all that Pierce can hear is a loud ringing, Chris opens the door between their sections, stumbling in, blood rushing from a deep cut on his forehead, she looks towards Benedict, he shakes his arm, then his face contorts into once of pain before it relaxes as he resets his dislocated shoulder.

Chris picks up Pierce from where she is under her computer screens, Benedict quickly checks her for any major wounds.

He grabs a sprain splint for her left wrist, making her wear it.

Y/N stands up hands supporting most of her weight against the wall. Red spots cloud her vision when she looks towards Benedict and Pierce.

“Are you okay?” Pierce shouts over the ringing in her own ears.

Y/N blinks slowly, touching over her eyes and pulling back to see blood.

“Head wound.” Benedict tells her from what he can see in the now flickering light.

He places a gauze piece over the wound, replacing it with more gauze and micropore tape.

When the ringing dulls for Pierce, the back door is broken open, as Valarie’s people climb into the ambulance.

Pierce and Y/N are kept behind Chris and Benedict who have their guns raised. The sterile smell of the ambulance is replaced with that of iron and gun powder.

Chris grabs Pierce’s uninjured hand and leads her out as Benedict follows with Y/N, her steps still slightly wobbly so he supports most of her weight.

Valarie stands in front, gun raised.

“I just want Raconteuse.” She states, eyes darkening as she finds Y/N’s form amongst the four.

“We aren’t at the liberty to cater to your wants.” Chris responds, calm and collected.

“I thought life over livelihood?” Valarie quoted, smiling.

“It is a grey area we have been meaning to take it up with the superiors.” Benedict scrunches his face with the smile he offers.

“Raconteuse.” Valarie shifts her gaze, Benedict shields Y/N further.

“Ugh, I want to have a conversation, woman to woman.” The bullet flies past them, Benedict makes no movement.

“We’ve had worse you know.” Chris announces, aim still on Valarie.

Y/N shifts from behind him, Benedict mirrors her. She looks at him,

“Tom’s specific orders, not to let you do anything stupid.”

“Well he should have not decided to split up.” Y/N glares at Benedict as he mirrors her movements again.

“Stop trying to give yourself up.” Pierce whispers.

“I’m trying to buy time.” Y/N whispers back.

“Oh come on now, stop gossiping.” Valarie sighs, “This is no fun.” She shoots at Benedict, he shifts dodging.

A single red line on Pierce’s back draws Y/N’s attention.

“Pierce don’t move.” She warns.

“Why?” Chris looks at Benedict, “Sniper.” Benedict answers.

Chris’ gaze flickers to Y/N,

“I’d give you the same advise.” He tells her.

Pierce stays still, two more red dots appear on Benedict and Chris each.

“Now drop the guns.” Valarie smiles as they begin lowering their guns the red targets following their descent.

The distraction is enough for two men to grab Pierce and Y/N each, their hands gripped harshly behind their backs.

Benedict looks towards Chris, they begin rising, grabbing their secondary guns tucked at their ankles.

“Oh boys, I do not appreciate the slyness.” Valarie snaps her fingers.

Both captured women groan in pain as their head is yanked back by their hair. Arms tugged upon.

Pierce whimpers, Chris sets his second gun down.

“Oh yeah, you have a high tolerance.” Valarie muses when Benedict makes no move to do the same.

Y/N hisses as her head is yanked back further, arms twisted more. The foreign arm reaches towards her left oblique inching upward.

An involuntary sob from Y/N resounds through the area.

Pierce looks at her in concern, Chris tries to reach for his other concealed weapon but the whimper from Pierce stops him.

“My, my, what is the story here?” Valarie smirks as Benedict too drops his gun.

The foreign hand moves away.

“A person like Cassandra took advantage you know zero consent.” Y/N spits out.

Valarie’s smirk drops, “Keep her name out of your mouth.”

Y/N grins, “Why? Shouldn’t we remember her for who she was?”

“A predator? An abuser? A fucking—,”

Valarie closes the distance between herself and Y/N delivery a slap across her face cutting her words off.

“A fucking bitch.” Y/N completes looking back at Valarie. She sees red, the person holding her pins Y/N to the ground, she attempts to kick Valarie, who blocks the attacks.

Both of Y/N’s legs are pinned under Valarie’s bent knees, the back of the gun’s grip collides with her eye socket.

More injuries scattered across her body.

Pierce tugs at the restraint, stomping on the foot of the man holding her.

“Stop it!” She yells at Valarie.

Valarie grips Y/N’s jaw, squeezing her cheeks, the cuts sting as the skin is pulled.

“Lets show Fox and Tom how precious Raconteuse looks now.”

Then she looks at Pierce, “Maybe Lee would love a show of their mouthy little girl as well.”

“Don’t you even think about it.”

> 2040 Hours (8:40 PM)

“Xu can you speed up?!” Tom bellows.

“I’m doing the best I can.” Xu yells back.

“Tom I suggest not using the harness.” Florence warns as the straps dig in right over his injuries.

“I need the ammunition I can hold.” His eyes hold an anger that she understood.

“Your call, but you need to see me first thing after you get Raconteuse, you see me with her.” She hopes this at least goes through his head.

He nods.

Lee keeps reading the incomplete text Pierce sent them,

‘Compromised, i lov’

They grip the phone hard, the indents on their palm an angry red shade.

The phone rings again, Fox swears under his breath picking the phone up, they have six minutes to reach.

“Ah, ah, come on now, say hello to Fox and Tom,” Valarie sings songs as the sting of a slap resounds followed by a whimper.

“Sorry boys, she isn’t in the mood to talk.” Valarie gives a dramatic sigh.

“Lets go see if Pierce wants to say hello.”

Tom and Fox look at Lee, they move closer, fists shaking at their side.

“So pretty with a broken wrist.” Valarie tuts, “Oh what is this just tears? Oh go on Fredo, undo the gag.” Valarie instructs

“You fucking bitch, I’ll kill you myself—, Fuck, Stop that—,” Pierce is cut off by her own pain searing through her arm.

“Hey Valarie?” Y/N calls out, diverting the attention towards herself, “I know about something Cassandra never did! Consent!” She calls off.

“You little fucking—,”

The line goes dead.

“Listen up,” Xu draws their attention, “The units tailing us need to be taken out. The location they are at already has six cars.” She completes.

Lee dials Veronica,

“Go.” Veronica sets the phone on the holder as she drives.

“I need to call in the favour from the higher ups.” They tell her.

“On your tail?” Veronica begins dialling a number on the burner.

“Yes, ETA?”

“One second.”

“I don’t have time V.” They impatiently tap their foot.

“How soon? Okay, Got it,” Veronica switches to Lee’s call, “Under a minute.” She informs.

“Thank you.” They end the call.

“What was that?” Tom raises an eyebrow.

“Someone owed me a favour.” They shrug.

“Okay what the hell?” Xu looks at the dancing lights in the rearview, Tom and Fox glance from the back window.

Each car tailing them somehow has slug covering the windshield blocking the view and causing the cars to go swirling into each other. Rendering them incapacitated.

Fox turns to Lee, “What kind of attack drone person owed you a favour?”

“Sorry, I signed an NDA.” They shrug smugly.

Xu approaches the location from the opposite side, with the headlights off.

The semicircle of Valarie’s car feat greets them. The five of them silently exit, silencers on their guns with the safety on.

> 20:46 Hours (8:46 PM)

The red mark on Benedict slowly goes off his body, so does the one on Chris. They both look at each other confused.

“Snipers disengaged.” Xu’s voice comes through on their secondary in ear comms.

Tom begins knocking the employees out one by one, retrieving the keys from the ignitions, and pockets.

Two larger hands grab his shoulders, pulling him backward, Tom clenches his jaw, as he falls to the ground.

“Stay down.” Jamal tells him in a low whisper,

“I cannot. She has she has my Y/N.” Tom begins standing up again.

Jamal pushes him back down, “Your girl knows what she is doing. Do not go into the middle. Trust her, as you did with knowing haven.”

“How—, How?” Tom’s eyebrows furrow, not understanding.

“She told me to tell you, knowing you would go reckless.” Jamal squats down to be at eye level.

“Valarie murdered Miranda, she is not seeing any reason. I know your first instinct screams to protect her, but listen instead. Disengage more guards and circle the perimeter, you will know when to enter.” Jamal hands him a bag pack, the one Y/N had before they were taken.

Tom understands, this is something Y/N planned for safety. The earlier guilt returns ten-fold.

Jamal carefully moves away, not raising suspicion.

Tom watches as Benedict and Chris reach for their remaining concealed guns, attaching the silencers.

Chris turns to Pierce, her restrainer is about to speak, he unloads two bullets, Chris shifts stopping the man from falling to the ground. He lays him gently.

Benedict looks at Valarie, she’s still busy verbally belittling Y/N, her back turned to them.

“Oh come on Valarie, did mommy not teach you how to fight?”

Tom wants to just unload the gun magazines into Valarie till she has lead circulating rather than iron.

Lee takes the longer circle with Xu, both not leaving anything breathing in their wake as they approach the make shift arena that Valarie has created.

Chris carefully pulls Pierce close to him, arm around her waist, he scans both sides before retreating, they make it behind the ambulance.

“Pierce.” Jamal says, voice low.

Chris pulls her behind, gun raised.

“Who are you?” Pierce questions, Chris sizes Jamal up.

“Shoot to Thrill, took you more than eight minutes to make it stop playing.” He says, Pierce’s eyes widen.

“How the fuck to you know that?” She narrows her eyes at the taller man.

“Y/N told me, she wants to give you this.” There is a small bag blue and cream in colour handed to Pierce.

“What… is… this?” Pierce eyes the item with suspicion.

“Could be a bomb?” Chris suggests.

Pierce almost throws the bag, “I mean this is Micheal Kors but I’ll bear the sadness, I’ll mourn, I’ll be alive but dead inside.” She sighs, petting the bag one last time.

“The designer shit is what you are thinking about?” Chris widens his eyes.

Pierce looks at him wryly, “I’m never not thinking about designer shit.”

“If it was a bomb would I not give it and run?” Jamal looks at the two in disbelief with an exasperated expression.

“Touché.” Chris nods, agreeing.

“Just, you will know when to utilise the tools inside.” Jamal backs away.

“He could play Batman.” Chris shrugs, “Got the voice and everything.”

Pierce wants to laugh, “Yeah, he could.” She puts the bag across her shoulder,

Lee runs the final leg to Pierce, gathering her in their arms. She wraps her arms and legs around them.

“Fuck, I thought I’d,” They grab her closer, Pierce cups their face pulling them into a desperate kiss, reunion searing through their veins.

When they pull away, Lee looks at Chris, “Thank you for keeping her safe.” Their voice wavers with gratitude.

“All in a day’s work boss.” Chris smiles.

Xu joins them, “As per the last discussion Fox should be entering hands up no weapons now.” She informs, Chris turns to perform a sweep, eyes landing on Tom being illuminated by the reflection of the streetlights.

“Where is Tom?” Lee wonders, Chris points him out.

“He was supposed to go with Fox…” Lee trails off watching Fox slowly make his way into the centre, Y/N barely blocking the hits now, turned to face her right, in a foetal position.

“There were changes in the plan.” Xu informs, as Chris nods.

“Who mandated these changes?” Lee questions, carefully gripping their gun.

“Y/N did.” Chris informs.

“Lee and Pierce with Xu and Chris, Tom opposite end, Benedict waiting on signal.” Chris speaks into the secondary comms.

“The fuck is going on?” Pierce whisper yells.

Lee looks between the two trying to understand without asking too much.

“Valarie,” Fox says loud enough, she gets up from her position and turns cocking her gun at him.

Fox has his hands raised, showing no harm to be intended.

“Let us be civil, your problem was with me.” He reasons.

Valarie laughs, “I don’t remember you solving your problems directly with the person concerned?” She taps the barrel to her temple.

Fox carefully flickers his gaze to Y/N, she’s laying straight breathing hard.

Y/N uncurls from the position looking up at the man pinning her down: his hands are shaky the fatigue setting in.

Y/N glances towards the cars, a figure sitting down between the cars, she smiles knowingly.

Tom’s breath hitches, her left cheekbone area swollen as the light illuminates the injures seen.

She bends her leg making a kicking motion, Benedict shoots the man, as his grip loosens Y/N carefully backs away.

“Don’t you dare move.” Valarie turns, “Don’t you dare think just because I don’t have a team, I can’t win, one bullet in you is all it takes.” She keeps her gun pointed at Y/N, as Benedict pulls her to sit upright, pain searing through her abdomen.

Fox makes his move, apprehending her gun, twisting her around, Valarie’s back against his chest.

Benedict lifts Y/N halfway, sprinting across the area towards Tom.

He gets up, arms wide open for her, Benedict carefully helps Tom support her weight once they reach.

“Baby, baby talk to me.” Tom whispers, hand cupping her cheek, she holds his hand.

“Tom, we have to, have to go, Benedict let him know when.” Y/N mumbles frantic, Tom runs his hand through her hair.

“I will.” Benedict promises much to Tom’s confusion.

“I told you Valarie, emotions make us the best and worst. You have to chose. You, chose so wrongly.” Fox brings his hand to her neck, squeezing.

Valarie kicks back, Fox groans, as she twists his hands getting the gun back to herself, she presses it against his neck.

Fox thrusts his hand upwards into her upper abdominals, Valarie’s gun falters, both reach for it, struggling to get the grip towards themselves.

Fox drops one hand down; wanting to retrieve his other gun, it clicks empty against Valarie’s stomach.

She cackles, pulling her loaded gun towards herself, Fox pulls it, their hands shifting the safety to OFF.

The echo of the shot carries through the abandoned exit. Both Fox and Valarie stare at each other as they begin to feel the adrenaline trying to search which one of them was shot.

Lee and Pierce have eyes widened, things are in slow motion as Xu grabs Lee and Chris grabs

Pierce, pulling them towards the awaiting cars.

Benedict, pushes Tom, to shake him out of his thoughts, Tom grabs Y/N, they break for it with Benedict leading and helping support Y/N.

There are two similar black sedans waiting on opposite ends for Lee and Pierce, the other for Tom and Y/N.

“What the fuck is going on and which fucking one of them died?” Pierce screeches looking back, Lee turns to watch the scene unfold.

Tom turns around, eyes fixated on Fox and Valarie who step away from each other.

At first both feel nothing, as though the bullet misfired, hit the ground or somewhere else.

Valarie searches Fox’s body for some bleeding, then the pain his her just under her left breast. She touches the now warm area, the bullet wound seemingly slanted upwards.

“Fuck.” Valarie whispers, spit and blood bubbling over from her mouth, she drops to her knees, heaving as she falls forward, coughing and sputtering all over the concrete.

“Valarie.” Lee and Tom whisper in their respective cars.

Pierce tucks her head into the crook of their neck, sobs finally taking over. Lee wraps an arm around her as they are driven off by Xu and Chris in the Passenger seat.

“Florence, get here at the back please.” Tom pleads, “I’ll drive, Benedict can instruct me.”

“I’m fine.”

“Y/N please don’t argue.”

“I’m not, just saying I feel fine…” her words slightly slur.

Benedict stops the car, “Thirty seconds go.”

Benedict shifts to the passenger seat, Florence shifts behind with her med kit, Tom rushes to the driver’s seat, flooring the accelerator as Benedict guides him through the turns, he watches Y/N get checked through the rearview.

Wincing as her cuts are cleaned.

“What about Fox?” Tom questions trying to distract her.

“Miranda, will take care.” Y/N breathes as the stitch is put on her forearm.

“Jamal, told me she was murdered by Valarie.”

Florence gives Y/N water, before palpating her chest and abdomen.

“That, was,” Y/N yelps as a sore spot is touched.

“Planned.” She completes.

> 1200 Hours (12 o’clock afternoon, Day of Hospital Discharge)

Miranda was never fond of hospitals, all too painful memories of her husband and son being lost on these cold tables. It made her skin crawl.

Jamal walked beside her as they entered the Out Patient Room 902.

“This better be worth my time, Raconteuse.” Miranda takes a seat opposite to Y/N.

Veronica brings the iPad which contains everything Valarie was plotting against her own mother, including hiring a hitman to take her out.

“Miranda, you have employed many people from this company. We have your best interested at heart, you and I may have had a rocky start, but I have never crumbled in bringing you that which you asked for, please.” Y/N’s eyes grown glassy, the worst is when family betrays, causes pain, with no regard.

“What do you suggest?” MM wipes a stray tear, Jamal’s jaw ticks as he sees the proof himself.

“I suggest replace all bullets with rubber ones, keep a goddamn surgeon on call, fake your death. She may shoot you if you piss her off enough.” Y/N explains handing the iPad back.

She then hands two bags to Jamal, instructions with for each receiver and the code to give them so they know Y/N is behind this plan.

The bags contained passports, new IDs and tickets of multi-city interconnected flights taking off at 2200 Hours 10 PM, tonight.

“Fox intends on killing your daughter, I sincerely apologise.” Y/N looks solemn.

“She has gone astray several times, if dying is the atonement to her sins, then so be it. I shall not let your brother, Fox live, I am afraid.” Miranda looks for any hesitation from the woman in front of her.

“My brother, Faolan died, Fox is not my brother just a different person using his shell. I do not intend to know Fox. I mourned Faolan. I shall keep mourning him.” Y/N looks back up at Miranda, she nods.

Standing they shake hands, as Miranda puts her sunglasses back on and leaves with Jamal to prepare for her potential death at the hands of her own flesh and blood.

> 2110 Hours (9:10 PM)

Fox pushes Valarie’s limp arm with his foot. He nods when it is deemed she is indeed dead.

He looks around, a pair of headlights coming closer. This is the car Y/N and Lee had arranged.

Jamal steps out, Fox frowns in confusion.

“You have done us a service by eliminating Valarie who would have brought Miranda’s name to the mud. We offer all of our services and help to you.” Jamal approaches Fox, with a plastic bag and pair of gloves.

Jamal opens the bag, “Place the gun, we’ll wipe the serial number and clean the prints off of it. This will be a deal gone bad.”

Fox places the gun in, nodding as they walk back to the car. Jamal opens the back door, Fox slides in, the doors are locked.

“Fox, always a pleasure.” Miranda’s smooth voice crawls across his skin.

“Miranda, your daughter had to be taken care off.” Fox uses the smooth baritone, hand inching towards the door handle.

“Do you not trust me?” Miranda smiles the gesture not reaching her eyes.

“You should be dead.” Fox states simple enough reason.

“I was prepared for what my daughter had deemed my fate.” Miranda explains.

“I accept your thanks.” Fox laughs.

“Yes, perhaps I do owe you a thank you, Faolan.” She speaks, his laughter dies.

“You know?” He questions, hand inching further.

“I had my suspicions but your sister confirmed it. Though she has practice mourning you. Now, what was it you said? Ah, yes an eye for an eye.” Miranda points the barrel at Fox.

Jamal opens the door of the car, Fox’s body slumps to the ground, they clean the door, placing the gun back in Faolan’s seemingly colder hands.

The car drives off, leaving only dust in its wake.

> 2200 Hours (10 PM)

Chris does not use the main airport entrance, opting a back gate route.

Pierce eyes the entire thing skeptically, even though she knew they were flying based on what was in the not a bomb but a bag, bag.

They are lead to a private jet, in taxi, waiting.

“Oh my god.” She grins excited, bounding up the steps happily with Lee.

They find Y/N, now patched up sitting next to Tom.

Florence and Benedict sitting at the back, Chris and Xu walk over to them grabbing a champagne flute each.

“Okay so tell me what the fuck went down after Valarie dropped dead.” Pierce and Lee sit opposite to Tom and Y/N, facing them.

Y/N chuckles at her enthusiasm, wincing at the cut on her lip.

“Why don’t I recount?” Tom suggests having heard in the car.

“You won’t say it as theatrically.” Y/N pouts.

“I will.” Tom promises.

“I don’t know…” Y/N pretends to give it a hard thought.

“Oh my god just tell us!” Lee groans, frustrated they can’t come up with a theory. The frustration melts as the hear a familiar bark and padding of feet.

“Is that?” Tom lights up as well, another bark as Taillight bounds up the steps and Bell scratches at the bag to be let out as Veronica brings the last passengers into the jet.

The pets excitedly leap and their humans and Pierce raises her phone again to take pictures of the moment. Once the pets settle down.

The doors close as they begin to course onto the runway.

“So it started when this lady and this lady,”

Tom points at Y/N and Veronica, “Told us that they have to go for another ‘CT Scan’, they were in fact, meeting in secret with Miranda.” Tom grins as Lee and Pierce both have their jaws dropped.

“Dramatic enough?” He raises an eyebrow to Y/N.

“Yes, fine now tell them the entire plan, properly.” Y/N rolls her eyes laughing, Tom kisses her lips softly.

“Yes, my darling.” He turns back to their best friends and begins a very dramatic reenactment.

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

AN: to everyone reading this chapter, you have come along with me on this beautiful journey, thank you for taking the time to read my words and immerse yourself in a story tha made me come back to fiction writing after years and years. i'm eternally grateful.

i've spoken to some very lovely people because of this fic and i just want to thank them and their encouraging words and comments and the insane amount of love i've received on this fanfic. a huge huge thank you to @anemois-hiraeth and @stevesmewmew you both literally kept me going with your affection and kind words. thank you. a huge huge huge and big warm hug through my screen to you two.

i'm literally such an emotional wreck at this ending i do have another fanfic planned, i hope to see you join me there for now this is the final chapter of Rush, the epilogue is coming soon too.

tagging these beautiful people, a big thank you for always giving my work love: @arcticclouds @confused-clary @fire-in-her-veinz @fa-me@littlemissslytherinprincess @stevesmewmew @anemois-hiraeth@thegoldenhood @severuslovebot @hayden429

P.S. taglist is now closed.

thank you for reading!

love,

frostironfudge note: Please understand no part of my work should be reproduced, plagiarised, distributed, translated without my informed consent.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston series #tom hiddleston is perfect #james conrad #jonathan pine #the night manager #hiddlestoner #kong skull island #only lovers left alive #hot hiddleston #hiddles #loki #loki x reader #loki x you #frostironfudge #damnit hiddleston #loki odinson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston is babie #tom is baby #tom hiddelson #tom hiddleston headers #tom hiddleston headcanon #betrayal #betrayal tom hiddleston

[crossdressingdeath]

I saw people talking about the Lan sect rules and how only LWJ was noticed to break them, did you all not notice that LQR, the elders, even LXC and QHJ broke the rules? The thing about the rules is that nobody can follow them 24/7, all the damn time. Who knows what rules you break and didn’t break? That’s not on anyone really. LQR broke the rules in front of everyone regarding the resentful energy debate and everyone excused him! As an educator, he doesn’t practice what he preach. The rule LQR broke? Morality is propriety. Also he talks shittily about wwx’s parents like bruh. Nobody in the Lan think about Madam Lan situation precisely like why she killed QHJ’s teacher, etc. QHJ himself also didn’t investigate and just marry and imprison her. The rule broken? Don’t make assumption. LXC also listens to gossip all around him, so he shouldn’t have the gall to act like the holier than art thou because he sees LWJ broke rules for WWX. LWJ did that, LQR did that, LXC and his father also did that, the whole elders I am sure broke rules too. Not all the rules broken are within their right and sometimes it is important to know that with rules like these acting as governing body discipline (like rise at 5 and sleep at 9 pm is a basic healthy life style for working people commuting) but others such as no killing, don’t lie, it’s supposed like common decency and what humans need to uphold as principles, not rules in the wall where it prevents everyone from lying in situation needed (like absent of gc or gc transfer). Though canonically, everyone even Lan disciples like LJY broke rules too. Even LSZ. Moreso, non Lans like NHS, JC, and other visiting disciples (JZXun, JZXUan etc). didn’t they insult wwx’s parentage and jfm’s rumors thing? And no Lans stopped them and just listen to the gossip or fight going on? Well I could go on but only WWX is punished for every thing in the end. LQR surely isn’t blind that he doesn’t know NHS doesn’t cheat or smuggle porn alcohol etc but he only singles out WWX. It just means they are somehow using the rules to cover up hypocrisy we are supposedly seeing.

though I agree the rules are not harsh, some are unnecessary such as no killing and no lying, but if the authority upholding and witholding the rules are not just, then it’s gonna be corrupt or biased assertion of sort.

I mean, to be fair we don't actually know that QHJ didn't investigate what happened with his teacher because we only know the most basic of basics regarding that situation. And I don't remember LQR talking about CSSR at all beyond maybe a sort of "Just like your mother, she was a troublemaker too" type thing, which is... y'know, accurate, not talking shit. And I don't think LXC really does listen to gossip (accepting the word of trusted associates as fact is not the same as gossiping). And he does not have a holier-than-thou attitude towards LWJ breaking the rules for WWX! His issue is that LWJ is committing treason and could end up heartbroken or dead! Concern for your sibling is not the same as being holier-than-thou! LXC's issue is with the fact that as far as he can tell WWX is toying with LWJ's feelings, not the fact that LWJ's breaking rules!

As for "others such as no killing, don’t lie, it’s supposed like common decency and what humans need to uphold as principles, not rules in the wall where it prevents everyone from lying in situation needed"... anon, allow me to introduce you to a little thing called laws. There are laws that are only on the books so that people know where to assign fault if something goes wrong, and there are laws that are in place so that people know what the punishment should be. Name one society that doesn't have rules in place regarding things like killing. And the rule against lying is a principle thing? It's more like... "you are expected to hold to these principles as a Lan cultivator". It's setting out expectations. Like a dress code; you go into a job knowing that you are expected to wear a certain sort of outfit, and by taking the job you are saying that you understand that and will wear that sort of outfit. Same deal here; Lans are honest, this is a known thing, if you want to join the Lan sect you have to be honest and if you're not prepared to do that you shouldn't join the Lan sect. Also uh... there is no evidence that the Lans can't lie in situations where they absolutely have to, what? We know Lans can break the rules in circumstances where that becomes necessary! Unless you're arguing that every Lan who participated in the Sunshot Campaign then had to be punished for all that killing. Which I hope you're not, because that would be... stupid. And we know they do lie; LSZ would be in deep shit if Lans couldn't lie, because it would be impossible to keep the fact that he's a Wen quiet if LWJ had to tell everyone who asked where he came from! It's not a fucking magical compulsion, it's a rule they choose to follow to the best of their abilities! Like how murder is illegal but self-defence is okay, there are times when breaking a rule is the best option and there are additional rules in place to allow for that.

And you say only WWX was punished for the cheating and the smuggling of alcohol and smuggling porn, but a) WWX is incredibly open about it, b) WWX is the only one mentioned as smuggling alcohol, c) WWX isn't actually punished for smuggling porn because only NHS is mentioned as doing that and he's VERY VERY GOOD AT HIDING THE FACT THAT HE'S DOING IT SO HE'S NEVER ACTUALLY CAUGHT (you say that LQR "surely isn't blind" like that means he must have noticed, but you're forgetting that 1. LQR isn't actually omnipotent and 2. NHS's whole thing is being insanely good at hiding what he's doing; don't assume he was obvious enough to get caught, especially when he's been through these classes multiple times and presumably knows all of LQR's usual tricks for catching troublemakers), and d) there's... nothing to say the other disciples weren't punished for cheating. LWJ caught all of them. WWX is specifically mentioned as being punished because a) he's the protagonist so of course he is, b) he's a repeat offender and repeat offences generally do lead to a heavier punishment, and c) LQR (correctly and definitely understandably) pegs him as the ringleader; WWX is being punished for heading the thing while the others are just punished for participating. That's... not unreasonable. (And yes it was NHS's idea but LQR doesn't know that, now does he?)

The guest disciples probably get away with more because they didn't sign up for how strict the rules are, not because the Lans are being hypocrites. Hey, remember how WWX blatantly breaks a bunch of rules right in front of LWJ on his first night only to get off scot-free because he claimed (likely falsely!) that he didn't know the rules yet and the only real consequence was that LQR then read out all the rules the first day of class so that he could ensure everyone knew the rules? WWX benefits from the laxer standards on guest disciples too, it's just that he's far more determined to cause trouble than everyone else! Also the other disciples don't insult WWX's parentage or talk shit about JFM's supposed favour? Because WWX is in fact incredibly popular? Like, I think you're underestimating just how much people liked WWX before the Sunshot Campaign! This man was insanely well-liked by his peers! It is only the Jiangs and assholes like JZXun who have an issue with him based on his parentage or position in the Jiang sect! Hell, the novel expressly states that him being head disciple and the son of the sect leader's childhood friend in addition to how young people aren't as bothered about status and ancestry meant that he was pretty much accepted as an equal right away! The closest thing to someone talking shit is JZX's "Doesn't [JFM] treat you better than his own son or something?", which he clearly doesn't even fully believe himself (the "or something" suggests he's parroting someone else's words in an effort to hurt, not stating something he believes wholeheartedly himself), and the Lans aren't so much standing around listening to the gossip as they are trying to pull JZX and WWX off each other. Also I don't think JZXun is even mentioned as being there but whatever, he might have been one of the nameless disciples in that scene.

Basically... are the Lans all perfect paragons of justice and honour? Of course they aren't! They're people! People are going to be petty and harsh and unfair, that's just what people do! But people seem so determined to treat them as this awful, hypocritical, cruel mess of a sect who use their reputation to bully people and I just do not get it! "Strict but fair" is the most accurate summary of how the Lan sect works, and yes, sometimes individual members are petty about it and everyone in the sect sometimes breaks the rules because again, they're human, no one can uphold all those rules all the time, but everyone in the sect signed up for that and if they find they can't handle it they leave the sect. Like... guys. Strict does not inherently mean they're hypocritical and awful. Come on.

#mdzs #lans #here i am defending the lan sect once again #this does seem to come up a fair amount huh #asks #anon

[god-of-entropy]

sorry this is my first time doing a req, but since you like iida tenya, i was wondering if you had any knight iida tenya headcanons?

So I was re-enacting a bakuiida hurt/comfort scenario I made up for exactly 2 hours since I started during 10:00 pm and it is 12:00 AM

gist of it: bakugou’s inferiority complex acts up and so he doesn’t take care of himself bc he’s too busy training and iida tells him how much he (Katsuki) means to him, (Tenya) and that there aren’t enough numbers that exist that could tell him (Katsuki) how much he (Katsuki) meant to Tenya

and then I remembered my tumblr account and one of the asks I got was “do some knight Iida Tenya headcanons this is my first time doing a req” and I was like oh wow I am v blessed that I am the person who took anon’s req virginity so here we are

CW: few times of cursing, mention of me talking about a car kink

Knight Iida Tenya Headcanons

Part of the King’s guard no I do not. Take criticism

If he isn’t he’s most likely in a very high position of knight rankings in the fantasy AU

His chivalrous spirit could rival canon Kirishima’s

But since Kiri’s a dragon hybrid here,,well

Did I mention

He’s TALL

Like. Bumping his head on every single fucking doorway kind of tall

He is a staggering 6”6

HES TALLER THAN MY BEDROOM WALLS JSJSJ

anyways so like bc he’s so tall he learned the very hard way (literally) that you should not wear a metal cone hat while sliding down ladders

Was this inspired by that one (1) video on YouTube where this guy’s character slid down a really long ladder wearing a golden metal cone hat

I will not agree nor will I deny this accusation

So bc he’s so tall he grudgingly cannot wear a fancy Iida helmet from the prestigious and noble Iida family line

ofc his brother was a knight before him, it’s so obvious

(Speaking about Tensei, his brother wore it anyways even though his brother is taller than him because he was always on horseback anyways, but having to patrol the streets of the kingdom on a daily basis trailing after the King or Prince or whatever he can’t let a helmet hinder him from going after people

Anyways so like because he is So Tall people often make jokes about his height and how rectangular his body was

So poor bby got insecure about his height and prefers not to talk about it, stays silent when someone thinks he can’t hear them whispering and making jokes about his bulky stature

speaking about bulky things his canon costume is lightweight in design because if speed and leg strength makes up 100% of your quirk you can’t have stupid accessories and additional weight.

But of course since what he’s going for (the Ingenium title) is pretty much set in stone, there’s a heavy emphasis in visuals (in canon) so like 90% of his fucking costume is for Decor

And I hate him for that

Because TENYA FOR THE LOVE OF GOD YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE 100% INGENIUM YOU CAN BE YOUR OWN INGENIUM

Even if you were put the pressure on yourself to become like your brother, don’t feel burdened to make sure your hero career is 100% like his

OK I kind of swerved away from topic but since we’re talking about hero costumes and knight armor

Since this is fantasy and most fantasy-ish things are set in a European medieval style because of fucking Hollywood and not in a more traditional Japanese style since apparently fire spitting dragons are cooler than Kitsunes with ten tails, power over nature elements and are literally considered deities—

Knight armor is made of metal, right?

So in that case..his armor would really weigh him down.

But because this is FANTASY and science and physics can go fuck themselves here,

It’s possible that there’s a chance magic could make his armor more lightweight, like Uraraka’s quirk

but like there’s a chance that his armor is ALREADY lightweight because again, canon Tenya really went after the design of his brother’s costume

And his brother’s costume was inspired by his parent’s and grandfather’s own costumes, which kinda looked the same since it had the white modern accents and holes in the helmets kinda aesthetic

SO ASSUMING THAT THE IIDA FAMILY LINE IS V NOBLE AND FAMED FOR BEING IMMERESED IN THE KNIGHTHOOD SHITE FOR A V LONG TIME

And his brother did copy whatever his parents and ancestors’s armor was or whatever

And they’re noble, right—so they’re rich. Because magic exists, plenty of wizards mages and other magic people for hire also exist

Enchanted lightweight metal armor

there’s a reason why you shouldn’t trust knights in shining armor and that’s because if their chest plate is too pristine, that means they’ve never went to battle

Here’s a rule for all you y/ns: don’t trust a knight in shining armor if it’s not enchanted

what I’m saying is if you wanna date Iida, the knight in shining AND enchanted armor, go for it bestie TT

Also His Boots

Assuming he doesn’t have his sexy engines on his calves in this AU

(Or perhaps the sleek, modern looking engines are replaced with steampunk ones O.O)

OK SO WE’RE GOING WITH THE STEAMPUNK MUFFLERS

Because holy shit that’s such a cool fucking concept??

Oh you bet your y/n messy buns that steampunk iida hcs are next

so since fantasy usually goes with at least one (1) “primitive” tribe with their own kind of technology centered around weapons and battle

And that one (1) “”tribe”” that’s an entire fucking kingdom/city like the Carja in the game Horizon Zero Dawn

Speaking of Horizon Zero Dawn, the “primitive” tribe with their own kind of technology centered around battle and more battle are the Banuk

They’re hardcore fam

They give me Bakugou Katsuki vibes because those people would literally rather die than say a challenge is too big to overcome

again going back to the topic: Steampunk

In “”fantasy”” medieval AUS there’s always that one steampunk inventor that’s a Mei Hatsume ripoff (Tangled The Series I’m looking at you)

And of course the Support Students need their time to shine too, so like — Steampunk City let’s gooo

(The closest Horizon Zero Dawn’s “tribe” got to steampunk is whatever the hell the Oseram are doing.)

So now Tenya has sexy, sexy steampunk mufflers that are very well taken care of

<SKIP THIS PART, I TALK ABOUT RANDOM EVENTS AND BAD CHOICES I MADE IN MY LIFE>

god I’m so sorry but me talking about mufflers like they’re a full course meal is reminding me of the time where I joked to my friends that I had a car kink

and not that I had a kink to have sex inside the car, but to be fucked BY the car itself

like your ass being just wrecked by a fucking shalon poofa

if you get that joke get off this site

one of my messages was very specific

It read:

“I eagerly lick car-senpai’s oil of his exhaust pipe”

And Yeah

unsanitary and a health hazard

While discussing about simpable men one of my friends were like

my man has a CAR your man, Tenya Iida, doesn’t

And I just stared at her

Because bitch MY MAN IS THE CAR

anyways if you actually read this may god have mercy on you

<DON’T SKIP THIS PART BECAUSE I CONTINUE>

Because I make the rules

Wouldn’t they be a hindrance to him bc of his metal boots?

So Let Me Tell You A Story

you know the Ingenifoot (the boots in canon Iida’s costume)

It’s special since it has holes punched into it for the mufflers to retract out of

Who says Ingenifoot can’t be steampunk as well?

I DON’T

But it can’t be steampunk bc this is a Knight Iida hcs and not Inventor Steampunk Iida Hcs

:<

So it’s plain boring white carved steel or smth with a small section where a part of the boot flexes for the mufflers to stick out

Speaking of carved steel, Knight Iida’s armor def has intricate details and shite on it

Maybe even his family crest

OK so it is 12:45 AM rn I am gonna sleep

Goodnight

#iida tenya #tenya iida #iida tenya hcs #iida tenya headcanons #knight iida tenya #iida simping hours #will continue dw my loves

[yeojaa]

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears.  You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard.  The best part?  You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main.  He might just love you.

alt summary.  Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing.  jeon jungkook

genre + rating.  fluffy crack, smut.  explicit.

warning / tags.  long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish),  eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch, oral (f receiving), fingering, enough sweetness you’ll get cavities. 

reading.   n/a.  a three part one-shot.

word count.  ~8400

part iii.

JUNGKOOK’S HOTEL ROOM Sunday, 3 May, 2020.  12:20 AM (LA), 4:20 PM (Seoul).

There’s nothing quite like the feeling after a show.  How it crowds cavities behind his molars and sets his heart off on a marathon, exhilaration colouring his cheeks and stealing his voice.  It’s something he’ll never get tired of - all the best parts of this journey presented on a silver platter. 

Still, he thinks talking to you might be a close second.  

“I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying,”  you chide, playfully, with a mouthful of granola.  It crunch crunch crunches in his ears, blocking the sound of his own laughter, ringing and half out of breath.

“I said I’m sorry.  I’ve been so busy.  Things have just been—”  Crazy?  Out of this world?  Some kind of wonderful?  “—hectic.”  He all but throws himself across his bed, the luxurious hotel sheets soft against his still overheated cheek.  It feels nice but steals the strength of his voice, muffling his words as he continues, like a runaway train with no destination in mind. 

You laugh at him as you always do, mirth sprinkled over teasing like little treasures to be found among the vowels and consonants.  “It’s fine , Jay.”  The name - not his name - rolls off your tongue, dragged out by the giggles you can’t help.  “I know you’re a busy guy.  Don’t worry about it.”

Easier said than done, Jungkook thinks.  You’ve been on his mind every day, in between the practices and the performances.  A silhouette shaped like you - not that he knows how you’re shaped - existing in the recesses of his thoughts. 

“Anyway, I finally stopped losing SR so it’s not all bad...”

He doesn’t register what you’re saying.  Not at first, anyway.  But when he does?  He’s belligerent, the loudest shriek rocketing out of his chest as he dissolves into laughter.  So you were a little bit better than him.  “Hey!”

“Hey yourself, sandbag.”  

Your mockery shouldn’t have the dumbest smile spreading like wildfire but it does, the expression eating up every ounce of his exhausted self.  He can’t fight it, glee working itself every which way until he’s on his back, staring up at the ceiling as his jaw aches.  

“You’re mean,”  he manages in between the teeth-numbing joy, chest heaving.

He’s certain you don’t mean it the way he takes it.  “And yet you love it.”  

God, if only you knew.

He wants to tell you so badly - wants to shout it from the rooftops until he’s blue in the face and without a voice.  He thinks he’d have a chance, maybe, if your passed secrets at midnight and tender goodnights were any indication.

But he can’t, because he’s him and you’re, well, you, and really, it’s just his fault.

“Did you die?”  You steal him out of his reverie, tearing him wholly from inside that overthinking head of his.  It’s one of the things you’re best at (other than keeping him alive in Overwatch).

He sighs and it’s a wistful sound, softer than any other that’s passed between you since getting on the phone fifteen minutes ago.  “I’m good, yeah.  I’m fine.”

“You sure?  I thought I might’ve lost you for a second.”

The playfulness has returned, rounding syllables in a way that’s very distinctly you.  

“Yes, Mom .”  

“Watch it or you’re grounded, young man!” 

“Do you even know how old I am?”  Probably not, because he doesn’t know that about you either.  

For all of the secrets you’ve shared, these very basic pieces of information are ones you’ve never exchanged.  They’ve always been held tightly to the chest, held hostage behind sharp gates of enamel. There was too much at stake when it came to these identifiers.

Sure, you’d told him about your greatest fear - losing one of your parents without being able to say goodbye - and sure, he’d told you his - not being good enough and letting the people he loves down even when he’s trying as hard as he can - but your ages?  Where you grew up?  Your real names?  That was out of the question.

“Are you about to tell me you’re sixteen?  Have I been friends with a high school student this whole time?”  You’re chuckling at your own genius.  He really doesn't think you’re that funny - low hanging fruit and all that - but he likes the way it sounds, curling out of your mouth like smoke.

“I’m actually twelve .  Geez, get it right.”

You gasp, scandalized and as if you really believe him.  It makes him choke on his own spit and he has to roll over onto his stomach, effectively trapping his phone between his chest and the bed as he struggles to regulate his breathing. 

“I’ve always wanted a little brother!”  

It’s a joke.  Obviously , it’s a joke.  He shouldn’t take it seriously.

And yet he’s fueled with the need to rebuff it, speaking before he has a chance to stop it, the words coming in a flurry.  It’s a verbal snowstorm, locking the conversation in place - like Mei’s ultimate except he’s trapped in it, too.  “I have something to tell you.”  There’s no going back now.

For once, you’re not tearing holes in his confidence - not that you ever do with any sort of animosity.  Your relationship was equal parts give and take, honey and vinegar coexisting in perfect harmony.

When Jungkook doesn’t immediately continue, you give him a little push.  “Spit it out, Jay.”

“My name isn’t Jay.”  A small, insecure part of him worries that that’s enough to shatter the careful friendship you’ve crafted.  You - Jinny, the ineffable - remain surprisingly silent.  He’s not sure whether that’s encouraging or disheartening.  “I… haven’t really been honest with you.”

Already he can feel the nervous energy in his limbs, anxiety replacing the high he’d been on only an hour ago.

“I’m…”  How does he start?  “I’m not just… some guy.”  Okay, that sounds bad.  He’s backtracking.  “I mean, I’m a guy.  I’m normal.”  This is going so poorly.  His breath catches in his throat, teeth worrying incessantly over the soft cherry Chapsticked contour of his bottom lip.  “I’m just not, y’know, your average guy.  I’m actually like, uh...”  

Jungkook has never stuttered this much in his entire goddamn life.

“My name’s Jeon Jungkook and I’m the golden maknae of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

It comes in such a rush that you probably don’t hear it clearly.  He’s introduced himself this same way for over half a decade and even it sounds strange to his ears.  

When you don’t respond after what feels like an eternity, he’s left to his own devices, filling the silence with the erratic beating of his heart. 

“Jinny?”  It comes smaller than he means it to, uncertain and filled with hesitation.  Still, nothing.  He wants to toss himself off the 37th floor balcony so he doesn’t have to feel this way.  “Can you say something?”

Your voice is far more measured than his own.  You’re trying to be serious, he thinks.  “I… kind of - sort of - already knew?” 

Well, he hadn’t expected that.

“What?”

“I mean, the other members don’t exactly knock before they barge into your room screaming your name.”  A beat.  He can hear the laughter that’s threatening to knock your words into submission.  “ And you posted a cover of a song I sent you.”  

Dammit.  Dammit dammit dammit .

That was definitely his fault.  It’d just been so good - living in his head and in his heart rent-free. “ Never Not’s a good song!”  He retorts, like that’s an appropriate rebuttal.

“I know, doofus.”  

“You’re the doofus!”

The two of you were back, glazing over the revelation like it was nothing more than a little bump in the road.

“Thank you for telling me, though.”  He imagines you’re smiling - can practically hear it in your voice.  Somehow, it feels different.  Sunnier than usual, blinding in its intensity.  “I wasn’t sure if you ever would.”

“Would you have been mad if I didn’t?”  Though he asks, he’s not sure if he’s ready for the answer.

“Of course not.”  

“Really?”

You’re only a little exasperated when you reassure him.  “Of course not.  You’re still you - no matter what you do.”

Whatever best case scenario he’d imagined doesn’t hold a candle to this.  He’s a million miles over the moon.  You must be able to tell because he can hear you stifling sound, trails of laughter buzzing around in his ears like hummingbirds.  

“So, what now?”

“What do you mean ‘what now’ ?  Didn’t you hear what I just said?”  There’s no venom in your words.  “You’re still you, Jay.”

“It’s Jungkook.”  There’s that unabashed need to hear his name.  He hopes it isn’t too obvious.

“I know but that’s gonna be hard to get used to.” 

“Is your real name Jinny?”  He’s always wondered.

“It’s Yoojin.  Jinny’s just my nickname.”  

“Well, Jinny—”  He says it dragged out and silly.  “—want to come to one of our shows?”

“I live in Seoul.”

“So what?”

The second time sounds exactly like the first.  He snorts.  “I live in Seoul .”  

"I’ll fly you to Osaka.”

It’s the first time he’s heard you genuinely shocked.  It strips the usual mischief from your tone, draping it in lily white and baby’s breath.  “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”  He doesn’t think he’s wanted anything more.  At least, not in a very long time.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

It sounds better than he could have ever imagined.

KYOCERA DOME OSAKA Thursday, 23 July, 2020.  10 PM.

Does he smell bad?  Should he have showered first?  Would you be grossed out?

These are all the thoughts running through his mind, chasing themselves in circles like a dog after its own tail.  They revolve in a neverending merry-go-round, creasing worry into his brow and dropping his mouth into a little O-shaped pout.

“You ready, Jungkookie?”  Jimin’s doing what he does best - draping himself across his maknae’s shoulders without a care in the world.  

“Are you nervous?”  Hobi’s swiping through his phone, dark hair a stylishly dishevelled mess around his angelic face.  He’s still got traces of makeup around his eyes and his clip-on earrings glint under fluorescent light.  

A hand lands hard on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle in a way that’s meant to be reassuring.  “Of course he is.”  Namjoon can read him like a book, shooting Jungkook his signature smile in the same instance he receives one.

“I’m not nervous!”  The youngest chirps in a voice that warbles like a baby bird.

Everyone laughs at that and he can feel his ears burning around the edge of his baseball cap. It creeps over the shell and down his neck, descending blossoms of colour into the collar of his shirt.  

“Shouldn’t you get going?”  It’s Yoongi that reminds him of the time, the rapper only barely cracking an eye open as he taps the face of his steel-cased Audemars Piguet.  He’s right.

Jungkook jolts out of his seat, scrambling to his feet - all four thousand dollars of his designer boots - and nearly knocks Jimin off the back of the couch he’d been precariously balanced on.  The overeager bunny shouts an apology that’s lost amongst even louder laughter as he tears out of the room. 

He’s going to be late .

He doesn’t think he’s ever ran so fast in his life - darting past bicycling seniors and tourists with all the grace of a boy in love.  He somehow manages to find the entrance of the BIC CAMERA store without much hassle, rooting himself just left of the door when his phone screen registers 10:30 PM.

A little triumphant whoop! presses into the sponge-like material of his facemask in the same moment he catches sight of a waving hand.

He’s not sure whether it’s the mask or the sight of you that’s making it hard to breathe.

“Hi.”  You sound exactly like you always have and yet six months of hearing your voice somehow doesn't prepare him for it.  It hits him like a ton of bricks, crashing his resolve into the soles of his feet.  There’s something about you that makes him squint - like staring directly at the sun.  His heart stutters in his chest.  He thinks, dimly, he can hear bells in the distance.  It’s probably from a food stall, but he doesn’t care.  

It’s the first meeting he’s always dreamed of, wrapped up in an adorable pink Cooky headband. 

He’s scooping you into his arms before he can think better of it, twirling you around like the princess you are.  It probably isn’t appropriate - you’ve only just met - but he can’t resist.  You feel so good in his arms, weightless and yet entirely grounding.  

The fact that you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck, easily reciprocating his onslaught of affection, doesn't go unnoticed.  He tucks away this knowledge into the sleeve of his shirt for safekeeping.  

“I’m so sorry,”  he says, though he doesn’t sound very sorry at all.  You’re back on your two feet, black military boots of your own on solid ground once again.  

Standing so close, he can smell your perfume.  Its notes of vanilla and cola and something powdery, reminiscent of babies and home.  You’re smaller than he imagined, with narrow shoulders and wide hips.  Like him, you look to be about 95% leg, faded blue denim hugging your thighs and falling loosely around the tops of your Doc Martens. Your top is long-sleeved but semi-sheer and he can make out what he thinks are inkings over your skin, little trails in greyscale and colour that draw his stare.

Stop being weird , he tells himself when he finally manages to refocus, tearing his gaze from the jasmine branches that traverse your limbs and training it on your eyes instead.

Bad idea, Jungkook.

He’s lost in the colour of your irises - an impossibly dark brown that twinkles under the awning lights - and the heart-shaped turn of your jaw.  He’s all too distracted by the high contours of your cheeks, the turn of your button nose, the dusty pink that fills the shape of your mouth and fades prettily against your skin. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”  The way your lips move should be a chargeable offence.  They coax into a smirk that’s equal parts soft and vexing, singular dimple presenting itself with the motion.

God, he’s so in over his head.  He can feel it in his bones.

So he laughs - because that’s what he does when he’s unnerved - and the sound is a pack of hyenas.  It’s Lion King on Broadway, sweeping above the already boisterous cacophony of the entertainment district. 

“Your laugh is even better in person.”  You’ve said better and not worse and even though he’s a little self-conscious - a decidedly not Jungkook-like thing to be - he preens from the praise.  

“Yeah?”  Can you see the hearts in his eyes?  He imagines they’ve replaced his pupils. 

“Yeah.  But don’t let that get to your head, mister.” 

“Already has - sorry.”  

You laugh in sync and it’s music to his ears - the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. 

The two of you fall into your routine in a way that feels effortless, the back and forth banter rivalling that of best friends.  

You tease him mercilessly, picking up on all his little idiosyncrasies - how he stands at stop lights, pigeon-toed and adorable; how he jams his hands into the back pocket of his jeans in tandem with the tips of his ears burning bright red;  how his laugh sometimes trips over itself and splinters like a kid going through puberty.  He doesn’t mind any of it, truthfully, because it means you’re paying attention to him just as much as he is you.

Because he sees all of your little habits too - watches them unfold before his eyes in technicolour.  You bite your own lip when you think you’ve said something particularly funny.  You wiggle your head on your shoulders like a bobblehead when he says something snappy, equally biting remarks softened by the way you bob up and down.  You don’t step on cracks, even if it means you’re straining those strangely long legs of yours to carry yourself a few inches further.  

You don’t have any patience - something he’s known since the beginning - but that he realizes with a front row seat when you’re shoving a takoyaki into his face.  There’s steam curling off it and the smell is intoxicating but he can practically feel the roof of his mouth burning when you’re relentlessly offering it to him.  You’re not even deterred by the fact that he’s got a facemask on. 

“Open up!”  

Jungkook wants to say no - should say no, for the sake of his own health - but he accepts it anyway.

It sears white hot pain the moment it lands on his tongue, teeth buzzing uncomfortably as he bites into the dough.  He’s sucking air in through his teeth, the cold barely doing anything to alleviate the sting.  He probably looks stupid as hell.  

Of course, you’re laughing at him, lips curled in on themselves as you try to choke back the sound. 

“Too hot?”  You coo, feigning surprise.  You do feel a little bad - he can see it in the flex of your jaw, how your bamboo stick-wielding hand lingers in the space between you.  “My bad.”

He chews once, twice - tries to keep it to a minimum because holy shit , does it hurt - before swallowing.  It burns on the way down.  “You eat one now.”  He’s pushing the tray towards you, long fingers curled around yours as he all but tries to make you face plant into the plate.  

“I don’t like squid,”  you deadpan, lying through those neat white teeth of yours.  You’d literally made takoyaki at home a few weeks ago.  He’d dared you to put an entire wasabi ball into one and you’d done it.  

“Shut up.” 

“You shut up!”

So it goes for the rest of the night, trading insults over street food.  You share an ice cream-filled melon pan - well, he orders one and you eat all of it but a bite - and you scroll through your phone as he inhales a bowl of ramen.  He catches you taking a picture of him when he’s halfway through slurping noodles into his mouth like a Hoover.  You look a little sheepish when he swallows and levels you with a look that screams unimpressed.

“Is this okay?”  You’re a little uncertain and it’s the cutest thing he’s seen all night, teeth catching your bottom lip.  He wonders, briefly, what it’d be like to do that to you instead.

You beam when he reassures you.  “Of course.” 

“I won’t post it anywhere.”  

He wants to tell you that’s okay, too, but he knows he shouldn’t.  Instead, he simply returns your smile and goes about finishing his bowl of broth.  You take a few more photos - of his face when he’s full-belied and satisfied, of the street where people mingle and mix, of the stupidly big moving crab sign across the way.

He wonders if you can feel it too - the connection that crackles between you like a livewire. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,”  you return your attention to him in the same instant he’s glossing over the shape of your lips, the turn of your nose.  “I’ll pay you back.”

Before he realizes what’s happening, your hand is on his.  You don’t do very much, simply allowing your palm to rest over his, fingers curled around the seam of his thumb.  It’s so much smaller - complete with neatly manicured lilac nails - that he stares down at it for a beat too long.  

You start to pull away - he sees it happening almost in slow motion - when he flips his own, catching your wrist in his grasp.  “No need,”  he mumbles, not quite looking at you.  He’s still too focused on the way your hands fit together like two puzzle pieces. 

“We’ll see about that,”  you return, equally as soft.  

Everything feels a little fuzzy, like you’re wrapped up in cotton candy and cloud nine.  

You must feel it too.

But then you’re standing and you’re not holding his hand any longer and he thinks maybe he’s imagining it all over again.  It leaves him heartsick, reaching for your figure that’s already too far away.  

“We should head back - I have an early flight tomorrow.”

Damn him and his poor planning skills.  He should’ve booked you something later in the day.  Why had he thought the 9 AM departure was the best idea? 

“Right.”  He lifts himself off of the wooden bench, returning his facemask to its rightful place as he closes the distance between you in four easy strides.  He tries to ignore the way you smile at him when you’re back together, matching pace through the somehow still-packed streets.

There’s no playful ribbing now.  The schoolyard mockery is replaced with a comfortable silence that sinks into his bones and brushes his hand against yours every time you have to squeeze past a gaggle of people that just won’t move.  It’s familiar without being boring, satisfying the big fat crush that lives in his heart. 

It settles even further when you do the same, head gentle against the curve of his shoulder.  

“Did you have fun?”  He finally asks when the familiar silhouette of the Conrad Hotel comes into view, your driver rolling to a complete stop right in front of the impressive glass structure.

You hum something that sounds like yes as he pays and thanks the driver in the softest Japanese before he ushers you out of the back of the cab.  You’re smiling at him, heavy-lidded and with a tenderness he doesn’t expect.  You must be tired.

“More than I’ve ever had.”  There’s a certain truth to your words, whether it’s from your sleepy state or something else.  “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to,”  he reminds you, guiding you past the concierge with a palm on the small of your back.  It’s intimate in a way he’s not really sure is appropriate but you don’t seem to mind, all too happy to be herded around like a baby duckling.

“Stop saying that.”  There’s no weight behind your words - only sandman’s dust and starry-eyed affection.  Jungkook’s heart plays a staccato rhythm in his chest as he steps into the lift behind you, crowded against the far right wall.  Mozart would be proud. 

Trapped in the small six by six area, his breath seems too loud.  The roar of his pulse in his ears is deafening.  He barely hears his own words when they stumble out of their own accord.  

“I like you.”

Your laugh is the sweetest he’s ever heard.  “I know.”  

“You do?”  He rounds on you in the same breath, your body mirroring his subconsciously.

“Of course I do.”  You’re so confident he absorbs a little bit of it, stepping closer when you do. “I’m your safe place - and you’re mine, too.”

His hands are shaking when they crowd your face, thumbs gentle over the jut of your chin.  “Can I kiss you?”  Spoken like a child asking for a Christmas gift, full of wonder and hope.  

“Hm.”  The vibration of your sigh is felt through his fingers all the way down to his toes.

He decides for you, closing the distance with a roll of his shoulders.  

Kissing you is unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined.  It’s better than his wildest dreams.  It’s soft and sweet and done with the utmost care, like you’ll break if he isn’t careful.  You taste as good as you smell - the citrusy tang of your lip gloss reminding him of Lotte World lemonade and picnics on the Han River. 

“I’m sorry.”  It’s an unnecessary apology that gets lost against your lips - because he isn’t quite ready to let go of you yet.  “I couldn’t help it.”

“You’re forgiven, I guess .”  

When you speak, it’s kissing in its most basic form, mouth brushing over his with each enunciation.  He wonders what it’d be like to have you sing a song for him like this.  He decides he wants to find out as soon as possible.  Needs it like he needs air - or more of you.  Either or.

“Thanks.”  

You laugh together and kiss again and again, repeating the motion like overeager high school students behind the bleachers.  He grazes your forehead, pressing sweetness into the tops of your eyelids and you return the favour, sweeping delight over the sharp turn of his jaw and over skin not hidden by the collar of his button-down. 

You’re so involved that you hardly notice when the lift doors slide open, revealing the empty hallway of the 33rd floor.  You break away first, though it’s not without some resistance - both his and yours.  He wants to keep you here with him as long as he can, because it feels like where you belong .

“I’ll see you.”  A last kiss - lingering, longing, littered with words neither of you say.

And then you’re gone.  

JINNY’S APARTMENT Saturday, 5 September, 2020.  2:45 PM.

You live in a nondescript apartment in a nondescript neighbourhood with trimmed hedges and a crisp white exterior.  There’s a doormat - grey, a little frayed at the edges, polka-dotted - and nothing else.  No sign on your door, just the number 134 stamped on the right-hand side, half a foot away from the window that looks into the open-air hallway.  

You answer the door on the first knock, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like you’d been lingering just behind the frame, waiting for his arrival.  Your hair’s shiny and freshly washed, damp at the ends where you haven’t wicked all the moisture away.  You look comfortable - if not a little overexcited - bouncing from sock-clad foot to sock-clad foot in your low slung sweatpants and oversized tee shirt. He can see half a dozen plants just behind your bobbing head, his gaze bouncing between pretty ceramic and terracotta pots.

“I half expected you to live in a PC bang,”  Jungkook states, drole and with that trademark grin of his, nose scrunched and eyes waning.

You counter him easily.  “You haven’t even been inside.  Maybe it’s all a front.”

He snickers at the thought, stepping over the threshold once you’ve taken a step back.  It smells like cinnamon and sugar - he wonders if you’ve been baking - and he peers curiously around the apartment.  

“It’s a candle,”  you supply before he has a chance to ask, reading the question in his stare.  

“You mean you didn’t bake me a cake?”  

You offer an extended scoff in place of an answer, rolling your eyes as he unlaces his boots.  “What for?  Your birthday’s already passed.”

“It might not have.”

“It literally has.  I know your birthday.”

Right.  Because he’s him and that’s sort of common knowledge. 

He chuckles to himself as he sets his boots aside, right beside where yours sit, near identical.  He doesn’t need to say anything when he hears you sniff, Rilakkuma-tipped sock nudging his hand away from where it threatens to upend the piece of footwear. 

“I had them before I met you.” 

“Right.”  It’s too easy to tease you - just as it’s too easy to rib him.  This is how the two of you are.  Schoolchildren with big crushes and near zero emotional maturity. 

“Do you want a tour or are you just gonna be some weirdo with a foot fetish?” 

He meets your stare then, both of your expressions ice cold.  If looks could kill .

You crack before he does, though your laughter melds together like a perfect harmony, ricocheting off the art-covered walls.  

“Fine, fine.  Show me around.”

So you do - with gusto and great pride.  It rolls off you in waves, tangible in the cascade of your hair over your shoulder and the way you beam up at him.  You’re like a kid at show-and-tell.

You guide him into the living area - a small space with a comfortable, worn-in grey couch and probably more throw pillows and blankets than is strictly speaking necessary.  There are framed pieces on the wall and it’s the contents that surprise him.  There’s Mercy playing pool, bent over the table in a revealing Playboy bunny one piece;  there’s D.Va in a hoodie and little else, bottles of soju littering both the back and foreground. 

Where the walls are bare, there’s other stuff taking up the space.  Artfully positioned floating shelves house succulents and cacti.  A well-cared for Monstera sits in a far corner, taking up more space than it probably should.  Nestled among its soil are little Animal Crossing Amiibos - Cyrus and Reese, to be exact.  There’s an all-white cabinet with a glass front and some of the most random stuff he’s ever seen:  limited edition Gunpla, a Taiko Drum, and your framed university degree (for accounting, to his great surprise). 

“Is that a Widow bobblehead?”  He spies it last, sitting on the cabinet that houses an impressive array of gaming consoles.  You even have a VR headset, the cords neatly looped together and tucked away beside a maneki neko-shaped piggy bank. 

“Maybe.” 

“You really are a dork.”

“Says the bigger dork?  Really?” 

He could dispute that - easily - but he doesn’t, instead shrugging it off as he flops onto the couch, feet immediately kicking themselves up. 

“What’re you doing?”  You join him even as you ask.  He’s a little disappointed by the polite amount of space you leave - just enough that you’re not touching.  

“I’m tired.”

“I haven’t finished the tour.”

“Tour schmore .”  

You scowl at him and it’s so charming that he wishes you were just a little closer.  He’d kiss that look right off your face if it were up to him.

“What do you want to do then?”  Where the stuffed animal comes from, he’s not sure.  It’s more than a little ratty, soft brown fur faded from what looks like years and years of love.  You hold it tight, clutched to your chest as you recline against the far arm. 

“Watch the Runaway and Lunatic-Hai show matches?” 

You level him with a look that very much tells him he is the bigger nerd.  He doesn’t mind, though.  He’s been wanting to watch these matches for months since it was first announced.  

Unfortunately, you’d promised each other you’d only watch it together, so really, this was your fault.

You must suddenly remember that, because you’re biting back the words he’s sure were about to tear into him, swallowing them whole as you grab your PS4 controller and begin silently navigating through YouTube.  He smiles, a little triumphant thing he knows you can see from the corner of your eye.

“Happy?”  Resentment mixes with excitement as you return your controller to its rightful home and settle yourself once more against the too-many pillows. 

“No.”  Jungkook worries for your neck when you whip to look at him, brow furrowed and mouth blown out in a pout.  

“Why not?”  

He memorizes the way you look right now, framed against sunlight that spills through your windows and hugging what he assumes is your childhood teddy bear.  It’s an immediate serotonin boost.

“Because you’re all the way over there.”  He sighs, long and loud, head swinging in a dramatic semi-circle.  He can hear you snickering despite yourself - could pick it out in a crowd of thousands, he thinks - and suddenly you’re beside him, distance closed in a heartbeat.

With you so close, it’s hard to think, his thoughts jumbled and tripping over themselves. 

“Better?”  You must know the effect you have on him, because you’re batting those goddamn eyelashes up at him, mouth dancing around his favourite sound in the world. 

“Much,”  he hums, unashamed.  

“Welcome home, Kook.”  The way you say it sparks fireworks in his chest.  He knows you mean home as in the city of Seoul, but it feels like more and he likes that - just like how he likes you and this little piece of normalcy.

It feels good to be here with you, seemingly without a care in the world.  

It’s distinctly different from anything he’s used to - even better than the long hours spent bonding on the internet.  There’s no worry here, no nagging in the back of his mind, no concern that one of his hyungs will burst into his room.  It’s just you and him and commentary on his favourite game. 

That is, until it’s just him and commentary on his favourite game.  He’d lost you somewhere along the way, roughly three hours in.  He hadn’t noticed at first, far too focused on the big brain plays unravelling across the screen, but when you started snoring, he knew. 

You just snored so damn loudly.

“Jinny.”  He feels bad when he has to rouse you, the feeling in his right leg but a distant memory.  

You don’t move.  He wonders when the last time you slept was. 

“Jinny,”  he repeats himself, a little louder this time.  There’s the beginning of stirrings, your head drifting from its position on his shoulder to nestle into the crease of the couch cushions.  “Do you want me to take you to bed?”  

It doesn’t immediately dawn on Jungkook how that sounds.

“Wouldn’t you like that,”  you mumble into the woven fabric, half-asleep.

“What?”  

“Nothing, nothing.”  You’re doing that thing you do when you’re impressed with yourself, teeth littering your bottom lip with indentations.  It’s more distracting than it should be, paired with those bedroom eyes he’s not certain you’re in control of. 

Get it together , he scolds himself.  In his mind, the angel powerbombs the devil into submission.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“No!  Not yet.”  You’re waving a boneless wrist in his direction, like you’re swatting away an irksome fly.  It’s cute, in a frazzled sort of way.  

“You want to sleep out here?”  He knows you don’t - you’ve complained about it enough times when you wake up with kinks in your neck and soreness in your back.  

“No!”  A huff puffs out your cheeks, blows your grown-out bangs away from your face.  You’re sitting up now, slowly but surely.  There are creases all over your face - an ode to the couch.  He has to keep from laughing right at you - bites it back with a bitten tongue when you sniff and card a hand over through your hair.  “I have a gift for you.”  

You say it so sweetly, he can’t help himself.  

“Is it you?”

He’s honestly not sure what to expect once he’s spoken.  He half thinks you’ll laugh, shove him away from you with a giggle and a roll of your eyes.  He hopes you won’t, though - can feel every fibre of his being strung tight with anticipation and hope and the request of please, love me .

“Do you want it to be?”  You’re looking at him with the strangest expression.  He can’t read it at all, despite how easily he normally does.  It’s white noise, static on a television screen.

Uncertainty grips him.  “I do.”  

“Then I’m yours.”

It’s music to his ears - the key to his heart.  It strips away the doubt, turning it on its head.  

He finally does what he’s wanted to for the past four hours.  

When he kisses you this time, it’s different.  It’s urgent but not rushed;  he takes his time in exploring the softness of your lips, how they fall open under his careful ministrations.  His mouth slants, coaxes you to give everything to him as his tongue passes tentatively over yours.  You taste like lemons again - and a touch of honey.

It’s intoxicating and addictive and he chases the high it gives him, large hands finding purchase against the back of your head and the slope of your jaw.  Fingers thread through your hair - gentle at first, then with more purpose.  He maneuvers you how he needs you and peppers kisses everywhere he can reach.  Your eyelids, your nose, your neck.  

When he ghosts his mouth across your shoulder - mouthing hot over the soft cotton of your shirt - and finds that particular point where your pulse beats, you gasp.

He’d thought your laugh was his favourite sound but he realizes now how wrong he was.

“Do that again.”  You say it together, in perfect sync.

Laughter blooms between you and he muffles his against your throat, nosing over where your perfume lingers most.  He inhales once, twice, and holds you somehow closer, all but dragging you into his lap.  “You’re my dream girl, you know that?”  The words are surprisingly sweet, given the compromising position you’re currently in. 

“You’re not too bad yourself.”  You thread your fingers just as he has, twirling through his just-on-the-right-side-of-too-long strands. 

He moves to pull away, a scoff building in his throat, but you’re having none of it, capturing his lips the moment he’s made up his mind.  You really could read him like a book.  He wonders what you’re thinking now, starts running through possibilities when you bite down just so on his pouting bottom lip.  

A not-so-subtle hint to get out of his own head.

“Stop thinking,”  you hum, lending your voice to his thoughts.

“Sorry,”  he returns in kind, tracing an apologetic tongue over the seam of your lips.  

“Show me how sorry.”  

You sound positively sinful and while it isn’t the answer he’d expected, it stirs something within him - from his chest to somewhere decidedly further south.  He stifles a moan, caging it behind bared teeth as he becomes suddenly far too aware of how you’re making him feel.

“You’re playing with fire, baby.”  The pet name rolls off his tongue like it was made for you. 

“It’s fine - I have self-healing.”

It’s so fucking dorky but somehow, even that makes Jungkook groan.  “Seriously - dream girl.”  

And then he’s kissing you again and again, a devoted parishioner of your church.  They’re this-side of innocent at first, little pecks that dot every sliver of available flesh.  His hands roam in tandem with his mouth, flitting beneath the cropped hem of your top before gliding greedily across the tops of your thighs.  

“Can I get the rest of the tour now?”  He looks like the devil himself, all dishevelled dark hair and that heart-wrenching, lopsided smile. 

You’re impatient though - always have been.  “Straight down the hall.  Last door to the left.”

It’s all he needs to know before he’s on his feet, rising with you as if you were featherlight.  Your ankles lock around his waist, clinging to him like the cutest koala he’s ever seen.  He doesn’t look away - frankly, can’t – as he follows your directions, gaze trained on your eyes and your lips and the column of your throat he wants to see blooming with roses.

“I’m crazy about you,”  he announces, suddenly, as he nudges open your bedroom door.

“I know.”  You say it a lot.  He wonders if you really know. 

By the way you kiss him, he thinks you might have an idea.  It’s not enough, though.  He wants to show you - needs to show you. 

You allow yourself to be tossed upon your bed - soft grey sheets, no stuffed animals in sight, too many pillows again - and he hovers above you, curious.  “Are you sure you know?”  The question is punctuated by the drop of his knee, cotton of his black joggers a stark contrast to the soft linens.

You’re not sure if this is a game - he can read the question swimming in your eyes.  “Maybe?”  You’re upspeaking, which is something you never do.  It’s disarming in a way that makes him want to hear it again, but with his name over and over.

“Maybe?”  He echoes, brow quirked and mouth twisted into an expression that starts butterflies in your stomach.  It’s like a switch has flipped.  For the first time, he’s the heartthrob you’ve seen on stage, the one fansites rave about with fervour.  A force to be reckoned with .  “Let me make it clear then?”

It’s spoken like a question, though it begs no answer.  You’d give him anything he wanted.

“Can I?”  You don’t think you have it in you to respond - not when he’s looking at you the way he is, from behind dark lashes and with the most charming smile you’ve ever seen.  But he needs an answer - won’t go further until he has one. 

“Yes,”  you breathe in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like your own, far too airy and mellifluous.

He looks like a kid who’s had his heart’s greatest wish granted.  There’s unbridled joy spilling into every crevice, streaming out of every pore as he lowers himself onto the bed.  You’re trapped beneath him - knees situated comfortably on either side of your legs - when his hands find the shorn hem of your shirt, tugging gently at the offending article of clothing.

“Off,”  he says simply.  It’s gone before you can think twice.  Your sweatpants and socks follow in quick succession - he snorts a laugh when he has to tug your socks off by the ears on either side of your ankles - until you’re left in only black cotton that covers hardly anything at all.

Jungkook sighs a sound that shoots straight into the belly of the beast, sparking warmth in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful.”  

He sees the uncertainty in your eyes, hands reaching to cover the places you’ve been self-conscious about since you were old enough to understand what bullying was.  The modest swell of your chest, the tiger stripes along your hips.  

Words are fitted with motion, hands of his own sweeping your arms away from your body. Long fingers curl easily around the dainty turn of your wrist.  “Please don’t hide from me.” 

You can’t deny him when he asks so nicely.

“Tell me about these?”  He means your tattoos, of course.  They’re intricate works of art that span nearly a quarter of your flesh, painting grayscale and colour over cream.  There’s the jasmine he’d spotted the night you met, coiled around your left forearm and up to your bicep in stark ink.  Across your stomach, from the top of your right thigh and over your ribs, are intricate peonies in shades of pink and red and green.  Everywhere lines bloom, etched forever into your skin, his mouth follows.  He can’t ingrain himself in the same ways but he tries, searing devotion in the form of kisses.  

It tickles when he ghosts over your ribs with both tongue and teeth and it’s absolutely indescribable when he catches your nipple between enamel.  

You make that sweet sound he so loves - a heady mix between a gasp and a moan - and he repeats the motion.  You hardly realize he’s speaking when he does it for the third time and adds nimble fingers to pinch and pull the other into the same pebbled state.

“ Tell me.”  He sounds like he’s laughing, trapped halfway down your body with his cheek pressed to the modest swell of your chest.

You’re not sure how you get the words out.  “My mom’s a big gardener.  She calls me her flower.”

“Her flower, huh?”  The question is muffled among your humble cleavage.

“Did I stutter?”  That earns you a sharp tweak to your nipple, the pain shooting pleasure through your limbs in a very unexpected way.  You’ve never been one for pain but the sight of Jungkook staring up at you, head cocked and hands full - well, there’s a first time for everything.

“You want to be nicer to me,”  he states solemnly, like he’s commenting on the weather or the 6 o’clock news and not palming your tits in his much larger hands and drawing out the sweetest murmurs of encouragement.

“I am nice to you,”  you retort - or try to at least.  You hardly get it out before it’s chased out by another one of those lovely sounds that Jungkook seems to be obsessed with. 

“ Nicer , baby.”  

As if to drive his point home, he straightens out, face suddenly dangerously close.  He crowds you with his entire frame, mouth finding yours easily.  It’s not the same sort of kisses you’ve shared all evening;  it’s a display of dominance, a reminder that articulates more than he can say. 

It’s also a distraction, you realize belatedly, with a gasp tearing its way out of your throat. 

Capable hands have found their mark, digits sweeping beneath the seam of your thong.  He lingers just shy of where you desperately want him, expertly trailing featherlight touches through your folds.  He never goes further - doesn’t stretch where you need him most. He’s careful not to brush your clit, focusing instead on the way you’re coating his fingers.

The shit-eating grin never leaves his lips - which never leave your mouth.  He swallows your whines in the same instant he’s pulling them forth, playing you like a fiddle without even really doing anything.  

“Can you do that for me?”  He coos against your neck, that damned voice of his dripping liquid gold into your ears.  

You have to focus hard on what he’s saying because his touch is so distracting.  “What?”  

“I said—”  It stings where his mouth connects, where his teeth nip and spill wine over porcelain.  He’s painting the prettiest pictures, signing his name in the form of broken capillaries.  “—can you be nice to me?”

You’d like to respond - really, you would - but he punctuates the question with the glide of his finger and you can’t do anything but arch into the sudden intrusion.  It feels so good and yet isn’t nearly enough.  

“Kook.”  You’ve never sounded this whiny in your life.  Even his name - one single syllable - hardly makes it past your lips without descending into a cry.

“Use your words , angel.” 

If every nerve ending didn’t feel like it was on fire, you might’ve yelled at him.  Instead, you can hardly form a coherent thought.  You’re too far gone, standing on the edge of a cliff as he teases you open with slow, measured pumps of his wrist.

“I need—”  He’s crooking the single digit within you, right against that spot that makes you see stars.   

“What do you need?  Ask nicely.”

“M-more.  I need m-more .”  A hiccup.  “Please.”  

“Like this?”  You’re empty all at once and then suddenly far more full, the stretch of two fingers stealing the breath from your throat.  “Or like this?”  The pad of his thumb finds your clit with ease, sweeping over the sensitive bundle of nerves once, twice, three times.  “Maybe like this?”  

He repeats his earlier movements, curling his knuckles in a come hither motion that has you sobbing out his name.

“That’s right.”  Ever the gentleman, he works you through your high, watching your face in rapt fascination as your first orgasm of the night crests and crashes over you, sending shockwaves through your system.  He admires the way your mouth falls open - full lips rounding in delight - and how your eyes screw shut.  

You’re the hottest thing Jeon Jungkook has ever seen.

“I’ve got you,”  he murmurs against your temple, never ceasing the slow drag of his fingers, the carefully measured flick of his thumb.  Even when you’re trembling with oversensitivity, he doesn’t relent, choosing instead to reposition.

His weight is gone as he settles between your legs, knees folded beneath him.  He only pauses his needy actions - almost doesn’t, when your hips roll in an apparent attempt to draw him back in - to strip you of your thong, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder.  

“Give me another, okay?”  

You aren’t given a chance to answer before he slips two fingers back where they belong and seals his mouth over your clit.  The coil he’d snapped earlier returns, tension increased tenfold as he alternates between sucking hard and licking, dragging his tongue over and around his fingers.  There’s too much stimulation.  You’re obscenely wet and you’re certain you’d be making a mess, if not for the careful way Jungkook’s devouring you whole, licking up every bit of slick.

“Kook.  Jungkook .”  His name sounds like heaven coming off your lips.  He replays it over and over in his head as he fucks his fingers into you, tapping a brutal rhythm against your g-spot.  He can tell you’re close again - can read it in the way your jaw tenses and your breathing goes erratic, lungs heaving. 

“Come on, baby.  Let go.”  The second orgasm hits harder, arching your back off the mattress as you fight to keep your knees from snapping shut.  You come with a hoarse cry, legs trembling like a leaf with the effort.  “That’s my girl.”  

He’s upon you again, this time crowding your space as he settles all one hundred and fifty pounds of himself beside you.  He anchors you in reality, preventing your boneless body from floating off by pulling you against his chest. 

“You did so good.”  

You accept his kisses readily, somehow managing to thread your arm around his neck despite the fact that you feel like you’ve just run a marathon.  

Being wrapped up in his embrace is like being home - warm and familiar.  

“I want you.”  

He laughs and you can hear the sound rattling around in his chest.  “You’ve got me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”  You sound a little petulant, like a child being denied their favourite toy.  

“I know what you meant,”  he retorts, squeezing your bare hip affectionately.  “But you’re also exhausted, so get some sleep.  Patience is key, remember?” 

You pout up at him with your messy bedhead and sleepy eyes and he almost gives in right then and there.  It’s nearly impossible not to, especially when you drag your hip across his, your ankle hooking his in a bid to bring the two of you somehow closer.

He doesn’t expect you to relent so easily but your yawn outs you, forcing itself past the cage you’re trying - and failing - to keep closed.  “Fine.” 

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You better be.”  It’s an empty threat - you both know he won’t leave.  “I still have to give you your present, anyway.”

He feigns surprise then, snickering quietly.  “You mean it wasn’t you?”

You don’t have the energy to yell at him, so instead you dig your bony fingers into the vulnerable underside of his ribs.  He squirms away from the feeling but never really goes far.

“It’s a Mercy bobblehead, you butt.”  You yawn again, shiver running the length of your spine as you snuggle more closely against his side once more.  Jungkook tugs your duvet up around your shoulders, tucking you in tightly.  The action reminds you of why you’d bought the gift in the first place.  “I think you might actually be my guardian angel.”

notes.  the end of an era (and by era, i mean a fic).  this honestly turned out to be my baby, so i sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it.  i'll likely do some drabbles in the future, because i really, really adore this couple.  as always, let me know your thoughts.  xo

tag list.  @letmebeyour-sun​ @teawithbucky​

#heartsforbts #ficswithluv #goldenclosetnet #magicshopnet #networkbangtan #bts #bts au #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #bts fluff #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #work.zip #angel.doc #jungkook.doc

[along-came-atsushi]

Hello, anon! :D And thank you for your trust in my opinions!

[The following quotes from Beast!AU are from @looking-for-stray-dogs.

A complete translation of the novel was made by @yanase-gr.]

~ ~ ~

Dazai’s and Atsushi’s relationship in Beast is very complicated to begin with.

During their scenes Dazai is switching between being respectful towards Atsushi and then being pretty cold to him in the next moment.

Apparently Atsushi is allowed to do things other subordinates are not allowed to do. He actually calls Dazai “Dazai-san”, and not “boss”. Although, the hesitant way of him saying his name implies that he’s uncomfortable to do so:

“Thank you……very much, Dazai-san.”

Head still bowed, Atsushi said so in a nervous voice.

Immediately, Chuuya’s low voice interrupted. “Haah? Call him ‘Boss’, brat. You wanna be killed?”

Dazai must have either offered or ordered Atsushi to address him that way for whatever reasons. I doubt that Atsushi was the first to call him “Dazai-san” without being giving permission, since he has an awed and dependent perception of Dazai in Beast.

We know that Beast!Dazai has the knowledge of other realities/worlds, so he may want that subconsciously (being called “Dazai-san” by Atsushi), because he knows that in other realities/worlds he has a good relationship with him. Which is kind of a parallel when he sits with Beast!Odasaku in the bar and actually calls him “Odasaku” (much to Odasaku’s irritation), because he knows in another reality/world they were friends.

.

Another thing Atsushi is allowed to do is being alone with Dazai. Chuuya as his bodyguard opposes to both these exceptions, calling Atsushi out to be more respectful towards Dazai and not allowing anyone to be alone with him, since that person could be trying to kill Dazai:

“Now now, Chuuya, it’s fine,” Dazai said while crossing his legs. “More importantly, I want to speak to him alone. Chuuya, leave us for a while.” [...]

“What’re you talking about. A mere member not even an executive member or your secretary seeing you directly, that’s already the exception of exceptions.”

“Why? Atsushi-kun’s a trusted subordinate.”

“It’s not about trust. What’re you gonna do if he’s controlled by an Ability, or a bomb was planted on him without his knowledge? There were precedents. Impossible that I’d give you permission for you two to be alone.”

.

[...] Dazai made a wry smile, and he turned to face Atsushi. “Be at ease, Atsushi-kun.”

.

From what I understand from the fan translation is that in Beast Dazai also trained Atsushi. Of course, these sessions must have involved physical force, too. There is also the fact that in Beast Atsushi has to wear a spikey collar in order to suppress/control his tiger powers. Since he isn’t an ADA member there, and Fukuzawa with his ability cannot make him control the tiger, it’s the only way for him to do so. Otherwise he would be blindly going on rampages (which apparently did already happen in Beast), or he would be waiting inside a cage.

But I still doubt the training was as violent as between Canon!Dazai and Canon!Akutagawa. Because:

1.) Canon!Akutagawa disobeys Canon!Dazai’s orders (killing people he should not kill), for which he gets punished. This is something Beast!Atsushi does not do, he strictly follows Beast!Dazai’s orders. But more on that later.

2.) Beast!Odasaku says about Akutagawa‘s ability something like: “Your ability is strong, but you’re physically weak.” Something that’s also not the case with Atsushi, since he has the tiger’s regenerative powers and so on. So training him that violently may not be necessary for Beast!Dazai.

3.) Beast!Dazai planned from the very beginning to not let Beast!Atsushi stay forever in the PM:

There is the sound of clapping, and Dazai congratulates them.

“Atsushi-kun. You’re fired.”

Atsushi’s eyes widened for a moment from surprise, then he closed them immediately.

“……understood.”

“In exchange, go live in the outside world. I’ve made arrangements for somebody to take care of you. Go into the world of light, together with Kyouka-chan.”

.

“Dazai-kun must have, in his own way, been worried for you for after he’s gone.” − Beast!Mori to Beast!Atsushi

He made arrangements that he would live a better life, after the incidents of Beast. Contrary to the canon storyline, where Dazai did not have any plans to bring Akutagawa out of PM. Also because at that time, he himself thought that he would stay there forever. Leaving PM was an impulsively made decision due to Odasaku’s death and last wish, and he didn’t bring Akutagawa with him. All these circumstances do not happen in Beast, and Beast!Dazai’s plans differ greatly from his canon self.

So from Canon!Dazai’s mindset it was important to teach Akutagawa how things work in the Mafia, and that he won’t survive there, if he ever shows weakness. Which isn’t the case with Beast!Atsushi.

.

Even when Atsushi disobeyed Dazai one time (He went back to the orphanage and killed the headmaster, something which Dazai advised him against), Dazai seemingly didn’t punish Atsushi in any way. Because Atsushi was already punished in dealing with his trauma and guilt for killing the headmaster.

[Sidenote: Yes, even in Beast we have that stupid “AKSHUALLY the headmaster was a gOoD gUY uwu” narrative. Thanks, I hate it.]

It’s not mentioned anywhere that Atsushi was once punished by Dazai for anything or that he’s afraid of him in (physically) hurting him. Instead Atsushi begs Dazai for orders and states several times that he saved him:

“Please, order me, Dazai-san.” Somehow, Atsushi squeezed his voice out from behind trembling teeth. “Immediately. I will never again, go against your orders. Never, never, never.”

“I’ll believe that,” Dazai said while coolly looking down at Atsushi.

.

“That person [Dazai] saved me. He saved me from hell, and invited me to this organization. I will never betray that person’s orders.” [...] “He told me to join. Said that I’ll be granted what I wanted.”

Of course, their relationship in Beast is far from healthy and good. And it’s very shocking to read for the first time. But it’s also not as terrible and cruel as it was between Dazai and Akutagawa in the canon story. That of course, doesn’t make Atsushi’s mental state in Beast any better, and it doesn’t excuse Dazai’s treatment of Akutagawa in the canon story.

.

In addition to this, I think that Beast!Atsushi and Beast!Dazai truly care for each other. Atsushi is visibly devastated when Dazai is about to commit suicide. And Dazai, as mentioned above, made preparations to have Atsushi live a better life. It’s just that they have complicated circumstances. Beast!Dazai’s main goal is to keep Odasaku alive, because Beast is the only reality/world where this is possible (which kind of gives Odasaku the role of a martyr in other realities/worlds). But to achieve this, he has to make everybody else suffer and keep a cold facade:

“Yes, this is a natural phenomenon.” Dazai’s voice carried the accompaniment of fatigue that had been thinly extended. “Nobody can stop it, nobody can fight against it. Even I cannot— if there’s one thing we can do, it is to love it. The truth that this world is one huge lie.”

.

“It was dreadful,” the young man muttered. “It was really dreadful. To fight against Mimic without you, to have to succeed Mori-san, to make enemies of everyone and expand the organisation. It was all for this world’s—”

− Beast!Dazai to Beast!Odasaku

There is a sad parallel where Dazai says the following to Odasaku:

“A life with someone to say goodbye to, it’s a good life. If there’s someone who would feel pain from the goodbye, I’d wish for nothing more. Am I wrong?”

And the only person who actually feels sadness for Dazai’s death is Atsushi:

It was true that, after Dazai’s death, Atsushi hadn’t known what to do and had left Yokohama, refusing food, wandering in remote places. Even he hadn’t known why. But—he couldn’t help but do so.

.

“You didn’t want to die, you just didn’t want to live. They are two completely different things.” − Beast!Elise to Beast!Atsushi

#Osamu Dazai #Atsushi Nakajima #Ryunosuke Akutagawa #dazatsu #dazushi #osamu dazai bsd #atsushi nakajima bsd #ryunosuke akutagawa bsd #Sakunosuke Oda #sakunosuke oda bsd #I'm tagging it as Dazatsu just in case ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #Bungou Stray Dogs #BSD #Q&A #beast au #bsd meta

[fineillsignup]

tips for choosing a Chinese name for your OC when you don’t know Chinese

This is a meta for gifset trade with @purple-fury! Maybe you would like to trade something with me? You can PM me if so!

Choosing a Chinese name, if you don’t know a Chinese language, is difficult, but here’s a secret for you: choosing a Chinese name, when you do know a Chinese language, is also difficult. So, my tip #1 is: Relax. Did you know that Actual Chinese People choose shitty names all the dang time? It’s true!!! Just as you, doubtless, have come across people in your daily life in your native language that you think “God, your parents must have been on SOME SHIT when they named you”, the same is true about Chinese people, now and throughout history. If you choose a shitty name, it’s not the end of the world! Your character’s parents now canonically suck at choosing a name. There, we fixed it!

However. Just because you should not drive yourself to the brink of the grave fretting over choosing a Chinese name for a character, neither does that mean you shouldn’t care at all. Especially, tip #2, Never just pick some syllables that vaguely sound Chinese and call it a day. That shit is awful and tbh it’s as inaccurate and racist as saying “ching chong” to mimic the Chinese language. Examples: Cho Chang from Harry Potter, Tenten from Naruto, and most notorious of all, Fu Manchu and his daughter Fah lo Suee (how the F/UCK did he come up with that one).

So where do you begin then? Well, first you need to pick your character’s surname. This is actually not too difficult, because Chinese actually doesn’t have that many surnames in common use. One hundred surnames cover over eighty percent of China’s population, and in local areas especially, certain surnames within that one hundred are absurdly common, like one out of every ten people you meet is surnamed Wang, for example. Also, if you’re making an OC for an established media franchise, you may already have the surname based on who you want your character related to. Finally, if you’re writing an ethnically Chinese character who was born and raised outside of China, you might only want their surname to be Chinese, and give them a given name from the language/culture of their native country; that’s very very common.

If you don’t have a surname in mind, check out the Wikipedia page for the list of common Chinese surnames, roughly the top one hundred. If you’re not going to pick one of the top one hundred surnames, you should have a good reason why. Now you need to choose a romanization system. You’ll note that the Wikipedia list contains variant spellings. If your character is a Chinese-American (or other non-Chinese country) whose ancestors emigrated before the 1950s (or whose ancestors did not come from mainland China), their name will not be spelled according to pinyin. It might be spelled according to Wade-Giles romanization, or according to the name’s pronunciation in other Chinese languages, or according to what the name sounds like in the language of the country they immigrated to. (The latter is where you get spellings like Lee, Young, Woo, and Law.)  A huge proportion of emigration especially came from southern China, where people spoke Cantonese, Min, Hakka, and other non-Mandarin languages.

So, for example, if you want to make a Chinese-Canadian character whose paternal source of their surname immigrated to Canada in the 20s, don’t give them the surname Xie, spelled that way, because #1 that spelling didn’t exist when their first generation ancestor left China and #2 their first generation ancestor was unlikely to have come from a part of China where Mandarin was spoken anyway (although still could have! that’s up to you). Instead, name them Tse, Tze, Sia, Chia, or Hsieh.

If you’re working with a character who lives in, or who left or is descended from people who left mainland China in the 1960s or later; or if you’re working with a historical or mythological setting, then you are going to want to use the pinyin romanization. The reason I say that you should use pinyin for historical or mythological settings is because pinyin is now the official or de facto romanization system for international standards in academia, the United Nations, etc. So if you’re writing a story with characters from ancient China, or medieval China, use pinyin, even though not only pinyin, but the Mandarin pronunciations themselves didn’t exist back then. Just... just accept this. This is one of those quirks of having a non-alphabetic language.

(Here’s an “exceptions” paragraph: there are various well known Chinese names that are typically, even now, transliterated in a non-standard way: Confucius, Mencius, the Yangtze River, Sun Yat-sen, etc. Go ahead and use these if you want. And if you really consciously want to make a Cantonese or Hakka or whatever setting, more power to you, but in that case you better be far beyond needing this tutorial and I don’t know why you’re here. Get. Scoot!)

One last point about names that use the ü with the umlaut over it. The umlaut ü is actually pretty critical for the meaning because wherever the ü appears, the consonant preceding it also can be used with u: lu/lü, nu/nü, etc. However, de facto, lots of individual people, media franchises, etc, simply drop the umlaut and write u instead when writing a name in English, such as “Lu Bu” in the Dynasty Warriors franchise in English (it should be written Lü Bu). And to be fair, since tones are also typically dropped in Latin script and are just as critical to the meaning and pronunciation of the original, dropping the umlaut probably doesn’t make much difference. This is kind of a choice you have to make for yourself. Maybe you even want to play with it! Maybe everybody thinks your character’s surname is pronounced “loo as in loo roll” but SURPRISE MOFO it’s actually lü! You could Do Something with that. Also, in contexts where people want to distinguish between u and ü when typing but don’t have easy access to a keyboard method of making the ü, the typical shorthand is the letter v. 

Alright! So you have your surname and you know how you want it spelled using the Latin alphabet. Great! What next?

Alright, so, now we get to the hard part: choosing the given name. No, don’t cry, I know baby I know. We can do this. I believe in you.

Here are some premises we’re going to be operating on, and I’m not entirely sure why I made this a numbered list:

Chinese people, generally, love their kids. (Obviously, like in every culture, there are some awful exceptions, and I’ll give one specific example of this later on.)

As part of loving their kids, they want to give them a Good name.

So what makes a name a Good name??? Well, in Chinese culture, the cultural values (which have changed over time) have tended to prioritize things like: education; clan and family; health and beauty; religious devotions of various religions (Buddhism, Taoism, folk religions, Christianity, other); philosophical beliefs (Buddhism, Confucianism, etc) (see also education); refinement and culture (see also education); moral rectitude; and of course many other things as the individual personally finds important. You’ll notice that education is a big one. If you can’t decide on where to start, something related to education, intelligence, wisdom, knowledge, etc, is a bet that can’t go wrong.

Unlike in English speaking cultures (and I’m going to limit myself to English because we’re writing English and good God look at how long this post is already), there is no canon of “names” in Chinese like there has traditionally been in English. No John, Mary, Susan, Jacob, Maxine, William, and other words that are names and only names and which, historically at least, almost everyone was named. Instead, in Chinese culture, you can basically choose any character you want. You can choose one character, or two characters. (More than two characters? No one can live at that speed. Seriously, do not give your character a given name with more than two characters. If you need this tutorial, you don’t know enough to try it.) Congratulations, it is now a name!!

But what this means is that Chinese names aggressively Mean Something in a way that most English names don’t. You know nature names like Rose and Pearl, and Puritan names like Wrestling, Makepeace, Prudence, Silence, Zeal, and Unity? I mean, yeah, you can technically look up that the name Mary comes from a etymological root meaning bitter, but Mary doesn’t mean bitter in the way that Silence means, well, silence. Chinese names are much much more like the latter, because even though there are some characters that are more common as names than as words, the meaning of the name is still far more upfront than English names.

So the meaning of the name is generally a much more direct expression of those Good Values mentioned before. But it gets more complicated!

Being too direct has, across many eras of Chinese history, been considered crude; the very opposite of the education you’re valuing in the first place. Therefore, rather than the Puritan slap you in the face approach where you just name your kid VIRTUE!, Chinese have typically favoured instead more indirect, related words about these virtues and values, or poetic allusions to same. What might seem like a very blunt, concrete name, such as Guan Yu’s “yu” (which means feather), is actually a poetic, referential name to all the things that feathers evoke: flight, freedom, intellectual broadmindness, protection...

So when you’re choosing a name, you start from the value you want to express, then see where looking up related words in a dictionary gets you until you find something that sounds “like a name”; you can also try researching Chinese art symbolism to get more concrete names. Then, here’s my favourite trick, try combining your fake name with several of the most common surnames: 王，李，陈. And Google that shit. If you find Actual Human Beings with that name: congratulations, at least if you did f/uck up, somebody else out there f/ucked up first and stuck a Human Being with it, so you’re still doing better than they are. High five!

You’re going to stick with the same romanization system (or lack thereof) as you’ve used for the surname. In the interests of time, I’m going to focus on pinyin only.

First let’s take a look at some real and actual Chinese names and talk about what they mean, why they might have been chosen, and also some fictional OC names that I’ve come up with that riff off of these actual Chinese names. And then we’ll go over some resources and also some pitfalls. Hopefully you can learn by example! Fun!!!

Let’s start with two great historical strategists: Zhuge Liang and Zhou Yu, and the names I picked for some (fictional) sons of theirs. Then I will be talking about Sun Shangxiang and Guan Yinping, two historical-legendary women of the same era, and what I named their fictional daughters. And finally I’ll be talking about historical Chinese pirate Gan Ning and what I named his fictional wife and fictional daughter. Uh, this could be considered spoilers for my novel Clouds and Rain and associated one-shots in that universe, so you probably want to go and read that work... and its prequels... and leave lots of comments and kudos first and then come back. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

(I’m just kidding you don’t need to know a thing about my work to find this useful.)

ZHUGE Liang is written 諸葛亮 in traditional Chinese characters and 诸葛亮 in simplified Chinese characters. It is a two-character surname. Two character surnames used to be more common than they are now. When I read Chinese history, I notice that two character surname clans seem to have a bad habit of flying real high and then getting the Icarus treatment if Icarus when his wings melted also got beheaded and had the Nine Familial Exterminations performed on his clan. Yikes. Sooner or later that'll cost ya.

But anyway. Zhuge means “lots of kudzu”, which if you have been to the American south you know is that only way that kudzu comes. Liang means “light, shining” in the sense of daylight, moonlight, etc; and from this literal meaning also such figurative meanings as reveal or clear. (I’m going to talk about words have a primary and secondary meaning in this way because I think it’s important for understanding. It’s just like how in English, ‘run’ has many meanings, but almost of all them are derived from a primary meaning of ‘to move fast via one’s human legs’, if I can be weird for a moment. “Run” as in “home run” comes from that, “run” as in “run in your stocking” comes from that, “run” as in “that’ll run you at least $200″ comes from that. You have to get it straight which is the primary meaning, which is the one that people think of first and they way they get to the secondary meaning.)

“Light” has a similar “enlightenment” concept in Chinese as in English, so the person who chose Zhuge Liang’s name—most likely his father or grandfather—clearly valued learning.

I named my fictional son for Zhuge Liang Zhuge Jing 京. The value or direction I was coming from is that Zhuge Liang has come to the decision that he has to nurture the next generation for the benefit of the land, that he has to remain in the world in a way that he very much did not want to do when he himself was a young man. In this alternate universe, Liu Bei has formed a new Han dynasty and recaptured Luoyang, so when Zhuge Liang’s son is then born he chooses this name Jing which means literally “capital”. This concrete name is meant as an allusion to a devotion to public service and to remaining “central”. After I chose this name, I discovered that Zhuge Liang actually has a recorded grandson named Zhuge Jing with this same character.

above, me, realizing I picked a good name

ZHOU Yu is written 周瑜 in both simplified and traditional Chinese characters.

The surname Zhou was and remains a very common Chinese surname whose original meaning was like... a really nice field. Like just the greatest f/ucking field you’ve ever seen. “Dang, that is a sweet field” said an ancient Chinese farmer, “I’m gonna make a new Chinese character to record just how great it is.” And then it came to mean things along the line of complete and thorough.

Yu means the excellence of a gemstone--its brilliance, lustre, etc, as opposed to its flaws. It is not a common word but does appear in some expressions such as 瑕不掩瑜 "a flaw does not conceal the rest of the gemstone's beauty; a defect does not mean the whole thing is bad".

Zhou Yu has gone down in history for being not only smart but also artistic and handsome. A real triple threat. And this name speaks to a family that valued art and beauty. It really does suit him.

Zhou Yu had two recorded sons but in my alternate history I gave him four. I borrowed the first one’s name from history: Xun 循, follow. Based on this name, I chose other names that I thought gave a similar sense of his values: Shou 守, guard; Wen 聞, listen. The youngest one I had born when he already knew he was dying, and things had not been going well generally; therefore I had him give him the name Shen 慎, which means “careful, cautious”.

SUN Shangxiang 孫尚香 is one of several names that history and legend give for a sister of w//arlord-king Sun Quan who was married to a rival w//arlord named Liu Bei in a marriage which, historically, uh, didn’t... didn’t go all that well. In my alternate history it goes well! You can’t stop me, I’ve already done it!

The surname Sun means “grandson” and the given name components are Shang mean “values, esteems” and Xiang “scent” which we can combine into meaning something like “precious perfume”. A lot of the recorded names for women in this era (a huge number didn’t have any names recorded, a problem in itself) seem to me to be more concrete, to contain more objects, to be more focused on affection, less focused on hopes and dreams. This makes sense for the era: you love your daughters (I HOPE) but then they get married and leave you. You don’t have long term plans for them because their long term belongs to another clan.

I gave her daughter by Liu Bei the name Liu Yitao 劉義桃. Yi 義 meaning righteousness, rectitude and 桃 meaning... peach. Okay, okay, I know "righteous peach" sounds damn funny in English, but the legendary oath in the peach garden, the "oath of brotherhood" is called in Chinese 結義 "tying righteousness" and the peach garden is, uh, a peach garden. I also give her the cutesy nickname Taotao 桃桃 which you could compare to “Peaches” or “Peachy”. Reduplication of a character in a two-character name is a classic nickname strategy in Chinese.

GUAN Yinping 關銀屏/关银屏 is a “made up” (scare quotes because old legends have their own kind of validity, fight me) name for a historical daughter of Guan Yu. Guan means “to close (a door)”. Yin means “silver” and ping means “a screen, to hide” and according to the legend, her father’s oath brother Zhang Fei named her after a silver treasure. So here again we see a name for a woman that completely lacks the kind of aspirations we see in male names. Who would have an aspiration for a daughter?

My fictional characters, that’s who. I named her daughter Lu Ruofeng 陸若鳳/陆若凤, Ruo (like the) Feng (phoenix), based on a quote from a Confucian text about what one should try to be during both times of chaos and times of good government. I portray her father as a devoted Confucian scholar, so that was another factor for why I looked to Confucian texts for a source of a name.

Modern parents also now have big dreams for their daughters :’) and so modern girls receive names that are far more similar to how boys are named. 

GAN Ning 甘寧/甘宁 is a great example of a person whose name does not suit him. Gan 甘 depicts a tongue and means “sweet”, and Ning 寧 which shows a bowl and table and heart beneath a roof means “peaceful”. Which, it would be hard to come up with a name for this guy, a ruthless pirate turned extremely effective general:

that is less suitable than essentially being named “Sweet Peace”.

And when he was an adult, his style name—a name that Chinese men used to be given when they turned 20 (ie became adults) by East Asian reckoning—indeed reflects that. Choosing your own style name was widely considered to be crass. I absolutely think that Gan Ning chose his own style name; he was that kind of a guy. And the name he chose! Xingba 興霸/兴霸! I’ve never seen another style name like it. It means, basically, “thriving dominator”! Brand new official adult Gan Ning treats his style name like he’s picking his Xbox gamer tag and he picks BadassBoss69_420, that’s what this style name is like to me. Except, you know, he had almost certainly killed many hundreds of people by the time he was nineteen, so, uh, it wouldn’t be a wise idea to make fun of his name to his face.

In my fictional version of his life, he married a woman whose father was the exception to the “parents love their children” rule and who named his daughter Pandi 盼第 “expecting a younger brother”, which is a classic “daughters ain’t shit, I want a son” name. Real and actual Chinese women have been given this shitty name and ones like it.

Because Gan Ning had an ironically placid name, I also gave his daughter the placid single character name Wan 婉, which means “gentle, restrained”, as a foil to her wild personality.

So there are a bunch of examples of some historical characters and some OCs and how I chose their names. “But wait, all that was really cool, but how can I do that? You can read Chinese, I can’t!”

I originally had a bunch of links here to dictionaries and resources but Tumblr :) wouldn’t let the post show up in tag search with all the links :) :) :) so you need to check the reblogs of this post to see my own reblog; that reblog has all the links. I’M SORRY ABOUT THIS. Here are a list of the sites without the links if you want to Google them yourself.

MDBG  - an open source dictionary - start here

Wiktionary -  don’t knock it til you try it

iCIBA (they recently changed their user interface and it’s much less English-speaker friendly now but it’s still a great dictionary)

Pleco (an iOS app, maybe also Android???) contains same open source dictionary as MDBG and also its own proprietary dictionary

Chinese Etymology at hanziyuan dot net

You search some English keywords from the value you want, and then you see what kind of characters you get. You should take the character and then reverse search, making sure that it doesn’t have negative words/meanings, and similar. Look into the etymology and see if it has any thematic elements that appeal to what you’re doing with the character--eg a fire radical for a character with fire powers.

And then, like I mention before, when you have got a couple characters and you think “I think this could be a good name”, you go to Google, you take a very common surname, you append your chosen name—don’t forget to use quotation marks—and you see what happens. Did you get some results? Even better, did you get lots of results? Then you’re probably safe! No results does not necessarily mean your name won’t work, but you should probably run it by an Actual Chinese Native Speaker at that point to check. Also, remember, as I said at the beginning, sometimes people have weird names. If you consciously decide “you know what, I think this character’s parents would choose a weird name”, then own that.

THINGS YOU SHOULD PROBABLY IGNORE!

Starting in relatively recent history (not really a big thing until Song dynasty) and continuing, moreso outside of mainland China, to the modern day, there is something called a generation name component to a name. This means that of a name’s two characters, one of the characters is shared with every other paternal line relative of that person’s generation; historically, usually only boys get a generation name and girls don’t. (Chinese history, banging on pots and pans: DAUGHTERS AIN’T SHIT AND DON’T FORGET IT!) “Generation” here means everyone who is equidistant descendant from some past ancestor, not necessarily that they are exactly the same age. For example, all of ancestor’s X’s sons share the character 一 in their names, his grandsons all have the character 二，great-grandsons 三, great-great-grandsons 四 (I just used numbers because I’m lazy). By the time you get to great-great-grandson, you might have some that are forty years old and some that are babies (because of how old their fathers were when they were conceived), but they are still the same generation.

In some clans, this tradition goes so far as to have something called a name poem, where the generations cycle, character by character, through a poem that was specifically written for this purpose and which is generally about how their clan is super rad.

If you want to riff off of this idea and have siblings or paternal cousins share a character in their names, ok, but it genuinely isn’t necessary. Anyone with a single character name obviously doesn’t have one of these generation names, and by no means does every person with a two character name (especially female) have a generation name. If you’re doing an OC for an ancient Chinese setting (certainly anything before the year about 500), you shouldn’t use these generation names because it wasn’t a thing. Also, in a modern setting, even if such a generation name or name poem exists, it’s not like there is any legal requirement to use it (though there may be family pressure to do so).

As a further complication, some parents do the shared character thing among their children without it actually being a generation name per se because it isn’t shared by any cousins. Or, they have all their children (or all their children of the same gender) share a radical, which is a meaning component in a Chinese character.

If someone does have one of these shared character names, then their nickname will never come from that shared character; either they will be called by the full name or by some name riffing off of the character that is not shared. For example, I knew a pair of sisters called Yuru and Yufei with the same first character; the first sister went by her English name in daily life (even when speaking Chinese) while the second sister was called Feifei.

tl;dr If you don’t already know Chinese, consider generation names an extra complication for masochists only. Definitely not required for modern characters.

Fortune telling is another thing that I think you should either ignore or wildly make up. Do you know what ordinary Chinese people who want to choose a lucky name for their child do? They hire someone to work it out. This is not some DIY shit even if you are deeply immured in the culture. There are considerations of the number of strokes, the radicals, the birth date, the birth hour. You’re the god of your fictional universe, so go ahead and unilaterally declare that your desired names are lucky or unlucky as suits the story if you want to.

MILK NAMES

In modern times, babies get named right away, if for no other reason that the government requires it everywhere in the world for record keeping purposes.

However, in traditional times, Chinese people did not give babies a permanent name right away, instead waiting until a certain period of time had passed (3 months/100 days is a classic).

What do you call the baby in the meantime? A milk name 乳名, which your (close, older than you) family may or may not keep on using for you until such time as you die, just so that you remember that you used to be a funny looking little raisin that peed on people.

This kind of name is almost always very humble, sometimes to the point of being outright insulting. This is because to use any name on your baby that implies you might actually like the little thing is tempting Bad News. Possible exception: sometimes a baby would receive a milk name that dedicated it to some deity. In this case, I guess you’re hoping that deity will be flattered enough to take on the job of shooing away all the other spirits and things that might be otherwise attracted to this Delicious Fresh Baby.

Because milk names were only used by one’s (older) family and very close family friends of one’s parents/grandparents, most people’s milk names are not recorded or known, with some notable exceptions. Liu Shan, the son of Liu Bei, who as a baby was rescued by Zhao Yun during the Shu forces retreat from Changban. Perhaps because his big debut in history/legend was as a baby, he is well-known for his milk name A-Dou 阿斗, which means, essentially, Dipper.

If you’re writing a story, you really only need to worry about a milk name for your character if it’s a historical (or pseudohistorical) setting, and even then only if the character either makes an appearance as a small infant or you consciously decide to have them interact with characters who knew them well as a small child and choose to continue using the milk name. Not all parents, etc who could use the milk name with a youth or an adult actually did so.

Here are some milk names I’ve come up with in my fiction: Little Mouse/Xiaoshu 小鼠 for a girl, Tadpole/Kedou 蝌蚪 for a boy, and Shouty/A-Yao 阿吆 for a boy. In the first two cases the babies were both smol and quiet (as babies go). The last one neither small nor quiet, ahahaha. 蔷蔷 Qiangqiang, which is a pretty enough name meaning “wild rose” (duplication to make it lighter), except the baby is a boy, so this is the typical idea that making a boy feminine makes him worth less, which, yikes, but also, historically accurate. Also Xiaohei 小黑 “Blackie” for a work that I will probably never publish because I don’t ever see myself finishing it. I might recycle it to use on another story.

 Here are some more milk names I came up with off the cuff for a friend that wanted an insulting milk name. They ended up not using any of these, so feel free to use, no credit necessary. Rongzi 冗子 “Unwanted Child”; Xiaochou 小丑 “Little Ugly”; A-Xu 阿虛 “Empty”; Pangzhu 胖豬 “Fat Pig”;  Shasha 傻傻 “Dummy”.

PITFALLS!

Chinese has a lot of homophones. Like, so many, you cannot even believe. That means the potential for puns, double meanings, etc, is off the charts. And this can be bad, real real bad, when it comes to names. It is way too easy to pick a name and think to yourself “wow, this name is great” and then realize later that the name sounds exactly the same as “cat shit” or something even worse.

Some Chinese families live the name choosing life on hard mode because their surname is itself a homonym that can make almost any name sound bad. I’m speaking of course of the poor Wus and Bus of the world. You see Wu may have innocuous and pleasant surnames associated with it, but it also means “without, un-”. (Bu is similar, sounds like “no, not”.) Suddenly, any pleasant name you give your kid, your kid is NOT that thing.

This means picking a name that is pleasant in itself yet also somehow also pleasant when combined with Wu. So you might pick a character with a sound like Ting, Xian, Hui, or Liang - unstopping, unlimited, no regrets, immeasurable. A positive negative name, a kind of paradox. Like I said, this is naming on hard mode.

If you are naming an ancient character, I am going to say in my opinion you should ignore all considerations of sound, because reconstruction of ancient Chinese pronunciations is on some other, other level of pedantic and you just don’t need to do that to yourself.

For modern characters, however, an attractive name, in general, should be a mix of tones and a mix of sounds. As a non-Chinese speaker, basically this means especially if you go for a two character given name, having all three characters start with the same sound, or end with the same sound, can sound kind of tongue twistery and thus silly/stupid. That doesn’t mean that such names never exist, and can in some cases even sound good (or at least memorable), but how likely is it that you’ve found the exception? Not very. (Two out of three having repetition isn’t bad. It’s three out of three you have to be careful of. Something like Wang Fang or Zhou Pengpeng is probably fine; it’s something over the top like Guan Guangguo or Li Lili you want to avoid.)

Just like the West (sigh), in the modern Sinosphere it is widely acceptable for girls to have masculine names but totally unacceptable for boys to have feminine names. If you see the radical 女 which means woman, don’t choose that character for a boy, at least if you’re trying to be realistic. Now Chinese ideas of masculinity doesn’t have the same boundaries as Western ideas, but if you want to play around in those boundaries, you gotta do that research on your own; you’ve left what I can teach you in this already entirely too long tutorial.

Don’t name a character after someone else in story, or after a famous person. In some/many Western cultures, and actually in some Eastern cultures too (Japan is basically fine with this, for example), naming a baby the same name as someone else (a relative, a saint, a famous person, etc), is a respected and popular way to honour that person.

But not in Chinese culture, not now, not a thousand years ago, not two thousand years ago. (Disclaimer: I bet there is some weird rare exception that, eventually, somebody will “gotcha” me with. I am prepared to be amazed and delighted when this occurs.)

Part of this is because of a fundamentally different idea in Chinese culture vs many other cultures about what is valuing vs disrespecting with regard to personal names. The highest respect paid in Chinese history to a category of personal names is to the emperor, and what would happen there is that it would be under name taboo, a very serious and onerous custom where you not only have to not say the emperor’s name, but you can’t say anything that sounds the same as the emperor’s name.

Did I mention that this is in the language of CRAZY GO NUTS numbers of homonyms? The day-to-day troubles caused by observing name taboo were so potentially intense that there are even instances where, before ascending to the imperial throne, the emperor-to-be would change his name to something that was easier to observe taboo about!

So you see this is an attitude that says: if you want to honour and show respect to somebody, you don’t speak their name.

As the highest person in the land, only the emperor gets this extreme level of avoidance, but it trickles down all through society. You can’t use the personal names of people superior to you. Naming a baby after someone inherently throws the hierarchy out of whack. Now you have a young baby with the same name as a grown adult, or even a dead person, who is due honour from their rank in life. People who would not be permitted to use the inspiration’s name may now use that name because they are superior to the baby who received the name! This would mean that hierarchy was not being preserved, and oh my heaven, is there anything worse than hierarchy not being preserved? All of Chinese History: Noooooo!

Now. As an author—and I hope to God no one is using my Chinese name guide as a resource to name an actual human baby because I can’t take that kind of pressure—you can use the names of characters to inspire the names of other characters, in the following way.

Remember that I said that the key, the starting point, to naming someone in Chinese is to start from a value. Okay. So what you do, if as the author you want to draw a thematic connection between two fictional characters, is take the Inspiration character’s name, think about what the value is that caused that name to be chosen, and then go from that value to choose the New Character’s name.

If you’ll recall what I said about Gan Ning and his baby Wan, this is exactly the approach I took. Gan Ning had a placid single character name that belied his violent and outrageous personality; I chose a placid single character name for his similarly wild daughter to make them thematically similar. As an author, I named his baby after him. But within the context of the story, she was not named after him. Does the distinction make sense?

Values also run in families for obvious reasons. It’s very common to look at a family tree and see lots of names that follow a kind of theme and give you a sense that, eg, this family is rather low class and uneducated; this family is very erudite but a bit too fussy about it; this family is really big on Confucianism. So yes, as an author, looking to other characters for inspiration is not a bad idea.

Remember, a lot of times, as an author, you can and even should kick realism to the curb sometimes. If you want to make some Ominous Foreshadowing that Character A’s name is something to do with fire but! They name their child something to do with water and therefore they are destined to clash with their own offspring, gasp, you can do that kind of thing because you are the god of your universe. Relish your power.

Do you have any more questions? Feel free to send a PM or an ask. I hope this was helpful! Go forth and name your Chinese OCs with slightly more confidence!

Edit 22 April 2019: I added some more sections (fortune telling, Milk Names, and taboo on naming after people). I also need to overhaul the entirety of the previous to emphasize that even thought I thoughtlessly used “Chinese” as if it was synonymous with “Han”, there are non-Han Chinese and they can have very different naming customs. Mea culpa.

#dynasty warriors #chinese history #mandarin #writing #resources #tutorial #three kingdoms #ocs #how to do it #meta #trade #chinese language #writing tips #long post #names #onomastics #chinese names #1k #5k #10k #25k

[luvrpop]

the end

source: the devil all the time part: one/? pairing: arvin russell/reader requested: no tws: n/a (canon typical in later parts but this ones safe) word count: 1652 synopsis: you make some bread, and contemplate finality. extra: i wanted to challenge myself to write a reader insert without using y/n et cetera!! im so excited for this, and very proud :) Someone once told you that there is nothing in life that isn’t a beginning or an end. You’re not quite sure what you think about that, but you figure there must be some sense of truth to it. Hell, you reckon that if those words are true every damn thing you do is the beginning of the rest of your life. This train of thought will come back to you later.

For now, you wake up in the morning to begin your day, and eventually you’ll sleep at night to end it. 

You open your dresser to begin looking for your outfit, and close the dresser to end that search. Naturally, you’ll put on your clothes to begin wearing them, and take them off at some point to end that.

You open the window in your kitchen to begin a steady flow of fresh air, but you won’t get a chance to close, and thus end, it.

Later, all the beginnings you started and endings you caused in the coming few days will become viscerally apparent to you. You’ll wonder which one is more important; those beginnings or endings? You’ll wonder if that matters at all. It probably doesn’t.

Currently, you are kneading the dough that you began only 15 minutes ago for a loaf of bread that you’ll never get to eat. Your radio plays quietly in the corner of the kitchen and you sing along, finding a rhythm in your movement. You feel as though you could live in this moment for the rest of your life and stay happy the whole time. But of course, the song ends so another can begin and your timer goes off to tell you’ve kneaded enough, and the tranquility of the moment slowly dissipates. You wet a towel and delicately place it on top of the lump of dough, and set it into a bowl and aside to begin it’s second hour of rising. That means that you have an hour to yourself, and you resign yourself to laundry. It gets boring pretty quickly, however, so you resolve to finish this load and continue a book you started reading last week. 

You’re only a few chapters from the end. You like it well enough- the characters are charming and the plot is compelling- but the pacing of it all is what’s really losing you. It started as a decent slow burn character study into the mind of a troubled woman that tragedy followed like a shy dog, which you find interesting. However, at some point it seemed like the author was as swept up in the world as you were and was caught off guard by the need for an ending. The past few chapters have been a rushed attempt at a satisfying conclusion, and the original message of the story has been lost. The woman started out as thoughtful and resilient, despite the shit life kept throwing at her. You like her a lot. At this point in the book, though, things should be calming down. They aren’t. 

You pick up the book where you left off, and immediately it seems to be trending in an unnecessarily painful direction. You wouldn’t dare tell anyone, but you definitely prefer a happy ending. The appeal in watching decent people suffer for nothing is lost on you. It makes it difficult to ignore the more uncomfortable truths of the town you live in. 

By the time you’ve gotten to the last chapter, your timer is going off again, letting you know that it’s time to move your dough from under the towel and in the bowl to the oven. You leave the book open on the counter (it stays, because you accidentally broke the spine when you first bought the book. Your best friend chided you for getting as upset as you did. “There are bigger things in life to worry about than a 50¢ paperback novel, darlin’.” He had said.) and stand to wash your hands. The front door opens and closes as you turn on the water, and you call out a greeting to your father. There is no reply while you move the dough to a pan, and you wait a moment before calling out again. This time you get an answer,  though the voice that responds is not your father. A smile creeps its way onto your face as you slide the pan into the oven and close the door. 

Something you’ve noticed about Arvin Russel is the way he refers to the people. It’s never “good afternoon,” or “thank you,” or “how are ya?”; it’s always a “good afternoon miss,” or “thank you ma’am,” or “how are ya, sir”. He calls his sister Lenora little lady or hun; his grandmother is grandma or ma’am; his grandfather is grandpa or sir. Friends are bud and fella, and enemies are any number of vile swears and adjectives. You’re doll or darlin’, and you have been since you found him hiding behind the school back on the first day of sixth grade. It’s common down here in the south to call people anything but their name whether it be from respect or the opposite, but even as a child Arvin seemed to actively avoid using someone’s name unless he was saying something that he needed you to know he meant. Most people figured he was just some overly respectful kid, but you’ve always suspected that he just understands the power of his words. As you got older, you got the sense to wonder why a kid so young seemed to know so much about power and violence, both mental and physical. You’ve heard the rumors about why he moved to Coal Creek in the first place, but it never came to you to just ask if they were true and what living in Knockemstiff was like. You never considered it your business. 

That’s all to say that when Arvin Russel greets you by name in your kitchen at 3:30 PM on a Saturday in the fine year of 1965, your hand stops on its way to the kitchen timer. A quick glance at the clock confirms that Arvin has work in 10 minutes, and you know that you live a solid 15 away from where he needs to be. You turn to face him, apprehensively studying the way he sits on a stool on the opposite side of the island that divides the room. He sits with a slump that shows an extent of exhaustion that seems deeper than the physical body. You wonder if someone’s soul could yawn. He seems like he hasn’t been able to relax all day, and even now there’s tension in his shoulders. Not to mention that his breathing’s uneven and he’s sweating like a sinner in church, so you decide to dampen a washcloth before asking any questions. He looks at you in such a way while you dab at his damp brow that chips away at your heart. He’s looked haunted since you met him, like Satan himself is dancing in his peripheral, always 3 steps away from finally claiming his soul, and you wonder for a moment if he’s always fought the devil all the time.

“Christ almighty Arvin, what happened t’you?” You ask, blotting away at his forehead.

His eyes snap into focus at that, like he’s remembering something, and he pushes out of his seat, snatching the cloth from your hand. “We gotta leave, doll,”

You look at him incredulously. “What in the world? You sit yourself back down and tell me what is goin-”

Arvin interrupts you by saying your name again. “I mean it,” he says, and you believe him. “You got- you got to get on packin’ and we gotta leave.”

“I’m not packin’ anything until you tell me what the hell is goin’ on, Arvin Russel. I mean it.” You say, and he believes you.

Unfortunately, you’ll come to understand that he doesn’t have the time to explain. 

The two of you have fantasized about skipping town more times than you could count. A couple of times, you even packed your bags into the back of Arvin’s jalopy before school, planning on picking up Lenora and never looking back at this shithole. You were serious about it too, your father and whatever spends its time haunting Arvin giving you more than enough motivation. Still, you stayed. Arvin would say he’d miss his grandmother, which was true, but you both knew it wasn't what Lenora would want. After she died, Arvin swore he should have said damn it all and left anyway.

When he makes eye contact with you again, you know whatever is happening now is different than your idealized life on the run. Every time you planned this, you both swore you’d do it all together, and that included choosing the right time. Arvin was so particular about choosing the right time. Now, it seems that whatever he did that you two are running from didn’t have a right time. It just had to happen, and he was tired of waiting. A sense of dread nags at you perversely, and you know suddenly and without a doubt that if you don’t go with him now, you’ll never see him again.

He drops the rag then and leaves the kitchen with a sense of urgency you’ve never seen, and you tear after him. You meet him in your room and you both throw together two bags of your bare essentials. You’re out the door and shoving the bags into his trunk before you even get a chance to turn off the oven.

It won’t be until you’re leaning your head on the passenger window of Arvin’s automobile, speeding past the sign that cheerily reads You are now leaving Coal Creek! We hope to see you again soon!, that you will realize that you forgot your book at home. 

#i am SO proud of this #modmori #the devil all the time #tdatt #the devil all the time fanfiction #tdatt fanfiction #arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel x you #the end #lenora laferty #lenora laferty mention

[writingjoycebyers]

Jopper Enzo’s hc

Ohhh a classic!

Jopper - Enzo's

Joyce gets ready at home and takes a nice long bath. She uses the occasion, the feelings of nervousness and excitement, to take a little time for herself: She wants to take care of herself, feel good in her body, ease her mind, make it special.

Hopper is at the cabin, trying to pick a decent outfit cause man, she‘s gonna look great and he does not wanna fuck it up

He pick‘s her up that Friday night, 7 pm, and although the front door is open, he rings the doorbell.

She‘s as good as ready, but not fully ready, when she runs to the front door, throwing her coat over her arm and slipping into a pair of fancy, black shoes she hasn‘t worn in ages. She wears a dress. It‘s black, simple and embraces her curves, and she feels all dolled up. Her cheeks start to match the red of her lipstick when she opens the door and Hopper stands there, dumbstruck, because he wants to greet her, kiss her cheek or hug her, but all he can do is stare.

„You‘re..:“, he mutters and she laughs, and leans up to him for a quick hug. „Hey, Jim.“, she says, and it‘s a gentle whisper.

The drive is short, the music on the radio is decent, and she can feel him stealing a few glances at her whenever the traffic allows him to losen his gaze from the road for just a second.

Enzo‘s is packed when they get there, and he tries to be all gentleman, taking her jacket, pulling the chair back for her. It‘s a weird feeling, she thinks, but she could get used to it.

They share some wine, until Hopper tells her the truth - he wants to order a beer so badly. She finishes the bottle off on her on then, and it makes her light hearted, and giggly, and gets her into the mood for a little walk down memory lane.

There‘s this short moments between conversation, when they look into each other‘s eyes for a second too long, and Joyce‘s heart starts to beat a bit faster, and warmth starts to radiate from her core. For the first time in a long time, she feels light and happy.

The date ends with them walking home, with great food in their stomachs and a little too much alcohol in their veins. They chat, and no one mentions anything supernatural, anything dark.

In front of her house, she‘s about to say good night, he takes her hand and pulls her close.

Lips meet lips, a soft goodnight kiss, a mixture of beer and wine, a mixture of feelings. She holds onto him, kisses back gently and ...feels at home. In more than one way.

Bonus: A chapter from my old, first Stranger Things Fic Back and Forth in Time. It used to be the fourth chapter. Called Friday Night. I took the story down some time ago, because it needs working on, as I said, it was my first fic ever and the writing style can be improved. Nevertheless, the fic had about 25 chapters and if you want, I could post more? Let me know. It was a good mix of flashback chapters to high school jopper and then post season three stuff. It was a bit off canon tho. Loads of fluff, slow build and friends to Lovers. And a good ton of angst x comfort. My fav.

Have this chapter as a sneak peek (there are way better ones though) and...

Let me know what you think. I'd love that...

Anyways, here you go, give it a read under the cut:

Joyce stood in front of the mirror. She couldn't decide whether she should wear her hair up or down. She was just combing it once again, when Will turned up in the doorframe, grinning.

"Down, Mum. Just leave it like that. You look pretty. And plus - Hopper has probably seen you with the most messy hair ever so - you can't do anything wrong tonight."

"Oh thanks, Will!", she said to her younger son. "It's just been a long time since I - well I actually never dated, you know. I met your father in high school and Bob... he was more of a movie night at home person."

"And what kind of person is Hopper?", Jonathan asked as he turned up behind Will. He was also getting ready for a night out with Nancy. Jonathan chuckled. He was obviously a bit amused by the fact that his Mum was driven crazy by the idea of going out with Hopper. He had never seen her make such an effort for a man ever.

"Well ... Hop is... he's a surprising kind of guy. He might not look like an Enzo's kind of person but originally it was his idea and yeah, he's probably in for some dating once he feels better and I mean...", Joyce started muttering nervously, "we're friends of course. Friends can also have dinner at Enzo's together, right?"

Will and Jonathan looked at each other and then started mimicking Joyce: "Hmm we're just friends!". The two boys couldn't stop laughing.

Jonathan was the first one to catch his breath again. "No, Mum, seriously. You picked a really nice dress. Have fun tonight. I'm staying with Nancy at her house, if that's alright? And Will's having a sleepover at Dustin's place. So don't worry about us, just enjoy the evening with Hop."

Joyce felt touched by how much her son cared. She stood there in front of her mirror in a simple black dress, her hair down and some light make up on her face and she could not believe how fast time had passed since her Jonathan had just been a little baby she had to care for.

"Thank's, Jonathan. Take care and you know what I've told you about staying over at Nancy's: It's fine for me as long as it's fine for Nancy. Will - have fun, and if there is anything wrong, tell Dustin's mother or call at Enzo's, alright?"

"Yes, Mum." , Will answered, knowing that whatever would happen that night, there was no way on earth he'd disturb that date by calling his mother in the restaurant.

In that moment the Byers family was interrupted by the ring of the doorbell. For a second, Joyce froze, and her heart skipped a beat or two.

"Hey, Joyce!" Hop said when she opened the door. Joyce noticed that he looked way better than the last time she had seen him. He wore jeans and a colourful buttoned shirt, he had shaved his beard and might even have seen a hairdresser. He even smiled at her.

"You look great, Jim. Shall we?"

The two sat down in Jim's car and talked about this and that during the short card ride to the restaurant. Having arrived there, they were led to their table. They both opted for white wine, so they decided to share a bottle, just the way they used to do it during their last year of high school, stealing alcohol from Jim's dad's wine cellar.

"Just like the olden days.", Joyce chuckled as they were half into their first glass of wine.

"Yeah, it was a nice time back then, you and me. We were so carefree those evenings in my room.", Jim smiled. He loved thinking about those times. They used to sit on the floor in his room, share a bottle of wine and smoke cigarettes. Joyce was to bring the cigarettes, Jim stole the wine. The perfect team. They used to do this once in a while back then, on weekends before all the bad shit happened. The shit none of them liked to talk about.

"Jim, I just wished we could have stopped time. But...", Joyce seemed to be interrupted by her thoughts. Jim knew exactly that she was thinking of the way her life went shortly after. All the bad shit. She quickly changed the subject. "In middle school we used to love playing outside, climbing trees. In high school we exchanged that for cigarettes and wine. That was a fun game too. And then... that one night we danced around your room and your mother nearly caught us."

For the next fifteen minutes, Joyce and Jim took a deep dive into memory lane. Joyce had done this on purpose. She wanted Jim to think of happy times, times that had nothing to do with the upside down and it seemed to work. His old smile was back, he even burst out into real laughter once when Joyce mimicked their old teacher, Mr. Cooper.

"Hopper and Horowitz, detention!", Joyce said, imitating the voice of their teacher when he caught them smoking at school between fifth and sixth period.

Jim laughed until their food finally arrived. Joyce had opted for pasta while Jim had ordered a pizza and a small salad. "You know, Joyce, I'm happy we finally made it here. A real date, I mean, after all those years."

Joyce looked him into the eyes, long and deep. He could see the sparkle in hers. "Me too.", she just said, their hands slightly touching on the table. For the rest of the evening they were in a good mood, both feeling relieved that they were both walking down the dating lane. It had cost both him and Joyce a lot of courage to be ready to turn their friendship into something more.

Joyce loved that evening. She loved having Hop around and she loved talking to him. They had called it a date but she knew she was no easy person. She had anxiety issues and although she was in a fun mood she felt doubts creeping up: Did Hopper see her the same way? They had gone through so much together, in high school and in the past years. Did shared trauma help them fall in love ? Or would it eventually get in their way?

Joyce tried to wash away those thoughts while Hopper was telling some funny story about Flo at the police department. She smiled at him and tried to focus on his story again. No bad thoughts tonight, she thought to herself.

After dinner, Hop felt like he should not be driving anymore. They decided to leave the car in Enzo's parking lot and walk home.

"I'll take you home anyways.", Jim said.

It took them about 15 minutes to walk to Joyce's place. The air was fresh and clear. It was a bit cold and cloudy but still bearable. There wasn't much talking on the way home. Both knew the evening was coming to an end and they were both not sure how exactly it would end.

They shared a cigarette on the way home, but they did not touch each other. They were just kissing through that cigarette.

"I had much fun tonight, Joyce. Thanks for making me.... for stopping my sadness.", Hop said as they stood in front of Joyce's house.

"I just couldn't see you like this anymore. Broken. It made me happy to see you smile again.", she replied. And it was true. The purpose of this date had been fulfilled, although there had also been another reason for them to meet up: She had been wanting that date for years.

Hop pulled her close and hugged her tight. Oh God, how often he had hugged her this way during all of those years of friendship. Friendship and ... Love? Friendship and confusion fitted them better. He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Night, Joycie. We should repeat this.", Hopper said softly, nearly whispering into her ear.

"Yeah, we should.", she sighed, as Hop walked out into the dark night.

#jopper #joyce byers #young jopper #jim hopper #headcanon #Jopper #Chief Jim hopper #Joyce Horowitz #hopper x joyce #joyce x hopper #winona ryder #jopper fic #stranger things #Chief Hopper x Joyce byers #Writingjoycebyers

[centrally-unplanned]

Medium & Marketing for 90′s Anime Dubs

Today is Hayao Miyazaki’s 80th birthday, which made sure my dash was filled with Ghibli tidbits. A discussion of my personal favourite, Kiki’s Delivery Service, brought up its ill-fated original dub by Disney in 1998. Ghibli still didn’t have the courage yet to put their foot down on changes for international releases, and so there are a lot of alterations - the theme songs are changed to be anglicized, almost any “dead space” or quiet moments in the film have someone (normally animal sidekick Jiji the cat) improv lines over the scenes to liven them up, and in particular the ending is changed to be less bittersweet as Jiji, who in the original Kiki permanently loses the ability to talk to as a sign of growing up, regains his voice.

These changes slot neatly into the zeitgeist of all 90′s anime changes - a disregard for the property’s core appeal as they were bowdlerized for a western audience. Sailor Moon is an infamous victim of a similar process - at least Kiki took place in fantasy Europe, the Sailor Moon dub’s attempts to pretend that the show doesn’t take place in Japan were simply insane as they cut out or blurred every appearance of Japanese writing in the show, leaving reams of animation frames on the floor in the process.

(Tangent time: the greatest scene ever is one where, upon reading a note by Usagi, to prove it was her Minako/Sailor Venus comments “it must be from her, its written entirely in hiragana”, the simpler form of written Japanese compared to kanji, which Usagi as a running gag cannot write. So in the dub they just...blur out the text of the note, and have Minako comment “I had to read it with my imagination. It's all written in funny symbols!". I distinctly remember watching the episode live when I was 12 years old and going “wait what the fuck does that even mean?” and suddenly realizing that the show was changing its own script, it was a trip of a moment)

Like most people I do malign these changes, but I am actually here to partially defend them via contextualization. The idea that American audiences would have cared that the show was Japanese is pretty dumb, but what you often hear are statements like “kids in Japan appreciated Sailor Moon/Kiki’s Delivery Service just fine, they didn’t need to change it”. That is possible, but it mistakes why changes are being made to begin with - its not the “culture of children in the US vs Japan”, its intended market via the medium of distribution.

Kiki’s Delivery Service was released in Japanese theatres in 1989, and it was the highest grossing film of the year in Japan (about ~US$18 million, man do things change). Kiki’s Delivery Service the Disney dub, was....released on VHS in 1998. VHS releases and movie theatre releases aren’t really intended accomplish the same thing. Remember all those direct-to-video Disney sequels? Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride? Cinderella 3: A Twist in Time? Remember how they were all just garbage? Anyone looking back at them today cringes, with a few exceptions. But none of us cringed when we were 8! My partner is a huge Disney fangirl, and when she was young she didn’t even distinguish between the theatre release and the VHS sequels - it was all Disney, you just lined them up and played them in a row as the complete canon. Yes, these movies sucked partially because they were low budget, but they weren’t actually *that* low budget - and not the throwaways your memory probably tells you they were. Lion King 2? Made ~$300 million in net sales, almost as much as the original Lion King’s theatrical run.

What those Disney VHS sequels and Kiki share is the fact that their intended market was *only* children. That is the point of VHS - you put it on for your kids and then go make dinner. Its the virtual babysitter, the kids can loop it while reenacting every scene with their stuffed animals. Movies released in theatres don’t serve that role at all - the parents are paying $15 a head and they are trapped in their seats for the whole runtime. It has to entertain everyone, or you aren’t going to go, or at least not as often. VHS releases sucked because kids don’t care, they actually do enjoy the constant quippy lines and dumb jokes. That is equally true for Japanese kids - its just that Kiki’s intended audience wasn’t Japanese kids, it was “all ages” - a very different category.

The same is true for Sailor Moon, by the way. The idea that kids in Japan could “handle more mature themes like death” unlike American audiences doesn’t hold up quite as much when you look at Disney theatrical releases like the Lion King - Mufasa’s death pulls no punches, but kids didn’t mind. And Japan does have shows like Doraemon that are just as childish as the 90′s western cartoons you remember. Its that Sailor Moon’s audience wasn’t just kids. 

Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon aired in March of 1992 on TV Asahi. Asahi was not a kids network, and Sailor Moon did not air in a kid’s block - instead in its “Anime Block”. It aired on Saturdays, at 7:00 PM. For most of its runtime, the 7:30 slot after was held by Slam Dunk, a hyper-serious basketball anime adapted from a manga in Weekly Shonen Jump. You think director Kunihiko Ikuhara was throwing in queer relationships and even trans characters, and every other villian was a half-naked seductress, because it was gonna really resonate with 8 year olds? Sailor Moon was for 8 year olds, yes...and for otaku. So, 15 year olds, lets not exaggerate here. But still, its hype, its success, came just as much from its teen and adult fans as much as its young devotees. Which was intentional - it was *marketed* that way. That's why it aired at 7:00 PM on a Saturday. 

Sailor Moon’s original dub, on the other hand, aired on UPN at, yeesh, 6:30 AM?? Then on USA’s Cartoon Express at the much more reasonable 8:30 AM, and later on Toonami at 4:00 PM. All of these are kids slots, to watch over cereal or snacks before/after school while the parents are busy. You do not expect the adult in the room to be watching alongside the kid, or for teens to really be paying attention.

And to cut off the logical objection, a show like Sailor Moon was just not going to get a 7:00 PM Saturday slot in the US in the 90′s. Nor was Kiki going to get a movie theatre release in 1998 of any scale. Movie releases are expensive, Saturday slots are precious, the funding just wasn’t there for something so untested as Japanese anime. There was no demand in the west for it - that demand would only be created later, by a generation who grew up on, well, shitty Sailor Moon dubs and Kiki VHS releases. And what success in the media slots these shows and movies did have are shaped by those market niches.

I don’t want to be over-deterministic on this - at some point Cartoon Network rolled the dice on Cowboy Bebop and Full Metal Alchemist and it worked - maybe they could have done that in 1995 with like Neon Genesis Evangelion, who knows! And of course US children’s cartoons are, beyond market forces, burdened with regulatory moralizing that Japanese media does not have. But I do think these 90′s dub efforts should get the proper context for the constraints they were operating under, and why they existed at all, as they are criticized.

#kiki's delivery service #sailor moon #90's dub discourse never dies

[petri808]

Request: TodoMomo; Momo comforting/trying to reassure Shouto after the whole Dabi reveal

Alrighty, I whipped this up before bed cause I almost forgot about it lol. But warning, since it’s based off a canon event (Dabis reveal) I stuck to canon personality as much as possible, so it comes off as more matter of fact (no crying or emotional outbursts, etc). Todoroki is portrayed as a more traditional Japanese male, even his dorm room’s aesthetic is based on it, so I keep to that view.

They were all extremely exhausted, physically broken and mentally drained by the time the battle had ended, but the Todoroki family suffered the brunt of psychological torture through this whole villain campaign. Several pro heroes were out of commission, including two of their best friends Izuku and Katsuki. The students did their best despite it all, to support their teachers and mentors, especially Aizawa.

The heat of battle had made the ramifications of Dabi’s reveal much easier to push aside at the time. Shouto knew he needed to act quickly with so many of the others stricken down in order to keep the league from gaining back any leverage. But in the still of the night, after the other student had gone to bed, Shouto fell to the demons of his past, and the brother he once mourned. He laid back on his bed with his arms behind his head, staring at the dark ceiling.

After the battle, he’d briefly confronted his father about Touya, because there was a part of him that blamed Enji for the man his brother had become. He knew from his own upbringing just how far the elder was willing to go in order to create his perfect child. They’d all become victims to Enji’s determination in one way or another. His mother Rei had a nervous break down. His siblings Natsuo and Fuyumi physically unscathed, but left emotionally behind. He himself was pushed to his limits, constantly begrudged by the man to exceed his expectations.

What was his older brother’s childhood like? Was it close to his own? Touya’s quirk had the potential to exceed Enji’s and that must have excited the elder male. Shouto could assume that Touya was probably pushed to the same extent as he’d been, and groomed on the same grandiose mentality that their father lived by. Could part of his brothers psychotic personality been created... by their father’s pressure, and warped into who they now knew as the villain Dabi?

No child should have gone through what any of them had. Rei didn’t deserve to be stuck in a loveless marriage just for her quirk. Psychological abuse can be worse than physical, especially on an already fragile or developing mind. Shouto realized he had been lucky in a way. Having his other siblings and mother around was just enough to protect him when he needed it the most from Enji. Touya never had that luxury. He was left in the hands of a tyrannical father and a weaker mother with no one else to run to. It was a recipe for disaster.

But that wasn’t what upset Shouto. He may not condone what his brother had become, but he could understand what may have driven him to it. No, what really pissed him off was fine, Touya wanted to hate their father, get in line. Touya wanted to be mad at him for being the golden child, pointless since he never asked to be born this way. But no one makes their mother suffer like that! Rei didn’t deserve anymore pain after spending years of what amounted to a domestic violence situation.

Shouto turned to the sound of a quiet knock on his door. It was 11 pm and he’d assumed everyone was asleep by now or at least heading there, so who could it be? While he wasn’t really interested in company, it would be rude not to answer it. He got out of bed and opened the door to find Momo standing there in her pajamas.

“How may I help you Yaoyorozu?”

She averted her eyes nervously to the ground as her fingers fidgeted in her clasped hands. “I’m sorry to bother you this late, but I noticed how quiet you’ve become since we returned to UA and I wondered if you might need someone to talk to. I-I’ll understand if you don’t want to, I was just worried...”

Momo stopped short of stating the obvious elephant in the room and Shouto didn’t blame her. They were all still processing the fact his older brother was not just a villain, but a powerful one with the league. He was truly grateful that all of his friends were being supportive of him and his family. “That’s really kind of you Yaoyorozu, but I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it yet.”

“Okay,” she bowed along with the word, “I understand. Good night Todoroki.” Momo turned to leave, then stopped midway. “I can’t even imagine what must be going through your mind, but it’s always better to talk about things instead of holding it in. And when you’re ready, I’d be honored to listen.” She partially bowed a second time and left the room.

Shouto took a moment to process Momo’s words before quietly calling after her to stop and motioned for her to return. He lead her back in and gestured at the zabuton cushions to sit down. “I appreciate the gesture, all of you have been such a support for my family and I, but I think it best that I say up front, I’m not angry because I found out Touya is Dabi.” Momo tilted her head in confusion, so he continued. “I’m sure that sounds odd, but it’s not the reason I’ve been quiet.”

“It doesn’t bother you that he’s a villain?”

“Of course, I’m not happy about it, but you see,” he sighed, “our father— The world sees Endeavor as this amazing hero, but behind closed doors he’s not a nice person. Growing up, I used to wonder if he cared about family at all or was it always about image and power. He only married my mother for her quirk.”

“Wow... I’m so sorry, Todoroki, I had no idea.”

“I could be angry at Touya until I tried to put myself in his shoes... what it must have been like growing up. My brother’s personality was a lot like my dads according to my sister and mother, but perhaps it became twisted and warped by the brutal training our father put us through.”

“So, what is upsetting you? I can sense there’s something bothering you.”

“I don’t care if Touya is angry with our father, he has every right to be. But to do what he did, and upsetting our mother, for that... for that I’m furious with him. He probably blames her just as much as our father, but she doesn’t deserve it.”

“Todoroki,” Momo tentatively reached out and placed her hand over the hand he had perched on one of his thighs. “That’s really amazing that you can sympathize with your brother, I don’t know if I could so easily after everything he’s done. But what will you do now about it?”

Again Shouto sighed, “I still love him. He’ll always be my brother, but there’s no questions in my mind that Touya must be stopped. He’s done too many bad things at this point and must be locked away where can no longer hurt anyone else.”

“Are you sure you’re really okay with that? Knowing he’ll hate you even more for it?”

“I was too young to really know my brother, so— yes. I need to protect my mother from any more pain, and if that includes stopping my own blood, then so be it.”

Momo smiled, “it sounds like you’ve made up your mind, and I think it’s the right decision.”

Shouto paused for a second. While he had thought a lot about what he would do, it never felt solidified, doubts always lingered about whether or not he could go through with it. But strangely now, after saying it out loud, his choice did feel much easier to acknowledge. It wasn’t an easy one, and frankly it was wholly unfair that he has been put into this situation.

“Thank you, Yaoyorozu. You were right, it did feel better to talk it out.”

Momo patted his hand. “I’m glad I was able to assist.” She then stood up to leave. “If you need to talk more, just let me know. We’ll always be here for you.”

He smiled for the first time in days. “Good night, Yaoyorozu.”

“Good night, Todoroki.”

#todomomo #todomomo ficlet #ask request #bnha #todoroki Shouto #yaoyorozu momo #todomomo fanfiction