#simply because the language is not as wildly complex

[createserenity]

Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship dynamic fascinates me and what fascinates me even more is how people perceive them, partly because I seem to have a much more optimistic view of their dynamic than a lot of what I read suggests they do.

With that in mind I started trying to unpick how I see their dynamic and why and what I ended up with was a series of rambles on various aspects, including confidence, trust, silliness and what they ask of each other. This one is about what they ask of each other and why their relationship isn't some weird one-sided thing where Crowley gives Aziraphale everything he could possibly want or ask for.

I see a lot of posts and things suggesting Crowley always rolls over and does anything Aziraphale asks of him. I don’t know to what extent most people really believe this or if it’s just a fun joke (and I’m not saying that’s bad, I think it’s a fun joke too, I love reading all that stuff and it makes me laugh). The point I wanted to make here though is that I don’t think it’s true and also why I don’t think it’s true.

Everything from here on out is my opinion, but I won’t keep stating that in order to make it more easily readable, just take it as a given. If your opinion is different that’s absolutely fine, I love that we can all see this stuff in different ways depending on our experiences and personalities, it’s why the fandom is so fun. (It’s also why my opinion on so many things in season two ricochets wildly from one theory to another).

So back to Crowley and Aziraphale – I don’t think Aziraphale walks all over Crowley, or certainly not to the extent that people sometimes think he does. Also Crowley doesn’t and wouldn’t allow himself to be walked all over anyway. Why is this even relevant? Because I’ve seen people say that in the final 15 minutes Aziraphale finally asked Crowley to do something that pushed him over the edge and that Aziraphale was shocked when Crowley didn’t roll over and do it because Crowley always does what Aziraphale asks. This isn’t at all true for a start, but also this view tends to include a second assumption, which is that their relationship is one-sided and Aziraphale never does anything for Crowley, that he dismisses him and takes him for granted, which also is not true in a lot of ways. I think it’s a fundamental misinterpretation of their relationship dynamic.  

First of all why can Crowley’s actions be interpreted as just rolling over and doing whatever Aziraphale wants? Well, the answer to that is three-fold – firstly Crowley is a genuinely unselfish in many ways, he does things for people because that’s the way he is, it doesn’t make him a pushover, it just makes him nice. Secondly he loves Aziraphale deeply. Whether he knows it or not doesn’t matter, he cares for Aziraphale and wants him to be happy. This isn’t the same as being a complete doormat, it’s simply compromising with the person you are in a relationship with and occasionally prioritising them over yourself. Both these things come together in the third thing, which is that Crowley’s love language is acts of service – he enjoys doing nice things for Aziraphale, he enjoys rescuing him, or going along with him and letting him have his own way, so why not do it? The point is he’s never railroaded into it by Aziraphale, it’s always a deliberate choice. He is literally saying, I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you.

How does Aziraphale see this behaviour?

Well that’s a tricky one, because in many ways Aziraphale is the more complex character, not least because he changes the most over the course of their history together. Is there a slight element of him taking Crowley for granted in some of their interactions, especially in season two? Possibly, but mostly I don’t think that’s it at all. When someone gives you things because their love language is acts of service you develop a (mostly sub-conscious) confidence in that relationship dynamic and if you also have confidence in yourself (which Aziraphale absolutely does – I’ll write more on this another time) then when you want something you ask for things. You ask not because you learn to expect, but because you think you’re worthy of asking and you think that your relationship is strong enough to stand up to the ask. I ask my husband for things all the time, sometimes they’re things I know he’ll give me – these are easy asks (I don’t just mean physical objects, I also mean acts of service such as helping me with something), sometimes though I’ll ask for things knowing he probably won’t give me that thing or without having a clue what his answer will be – these are harder asks, the sort you don’t do early on in relationships because they might break it either in one go or over time. Sometimes a hard ask results in me getting what I want, sometimes it results in a bit of back and forth before I get what I want, sometimes I get a no and I’m temporarily annoyed or upset, sometimes I get a no and I accept it because I knew it was the most likely outcome.

The point is that I ask, and so does Aziraphale. You ask because you have confidence that you are worthy of the ask and also that your relationship is strong enough to bear the request, even if the answer is no. Can a no still be annoying or upsetting? Yes absolutely. Can a no still be wrong on the part of the other person? Also yes. The point is that sometimes the no isn’t wrong and it doesn’t necessarily break the relationship. By the time season two comes along Aziraphale is confident enough in his relationship with Crowley to feel it can bear the weight of him asking.

So what happens when he asks? Does Crowley roll over?

Well no, he doesn’t. One big example of this is right at the beginning of the series, in episode one. Here Aziraphale makes a massive ask of Crowley and he knows it’s a big ask. Even before he tells Crowley what the problem is he’s aware of the possibility of a no. “Is it something I can help you with?” Crowley sayss, and Aziraphale merely shrugs. It’s not because Nina is there, she’s gone by that point. It’s also not because he doesn’t have faith in Crowley’s ability to help him, he always has faith in Crowley’s abilities (this is a whole other thing on trust). What he’s doubting is whether Crowley will help him. It’s why they’re meeting in the café, not the bookshop. He wants to break this one to Crowley a bit at a time – there’s a problem and I need help. I want your help, it’s why I called you, but you aren’t going to like it and I’m not even sure whether you will help so I’m establishing that I need help first, rather than showing you Gabriel immediately, so that you aren’t completely surprised when I present the whole problem to you.

Once they go to the bookshop and Crowley is confronted with Gabriel he offers the help he feels able to give by saying that he’ll drive Gabriel somewhere and dump him. He’s stating his willingness to help (which is important later), but for now he’ll only help in one specific way. What he isn’t willing to do is any more than that, not even for Aziraphale.

Help me take care of Gabriel. Help me sort this mess out, Aziraphale says, and what does Crowley say? No. Absolutely not. You’re on your own with this one. Even after Aziraphale practically begs him for help, complete with puppy dog eyes and the magic word, “I’d love you to help me,” Crowley still says no. That is not the reply of someone who lets themselves be walked all over or who rolls over every time the angel they’re in love with flutters their eyelashes.

Okay so what about the fact that he returns? Well, the stakes have been raised: for a start Aziraphale is now directly in danger, which alters the balance in favour of helping him, and remember he was already willing to help, he said as much, but he was previously only willing to help in one way. Now that’s changed. Doing things you wouldn’t normally do for someone you love when the stakes are raised is a perfectly normal rection in a relationship and does not indicate an unhealthy dynamic. Crowley has now realised that getting rid of Gabriel is no longer an option - his preferred plan (dumping Gabriel somewhere) will no longer work, so the only choice is now Aziraphale’s plan of keeping him in the bookshop and taking care of him.

This is why he returns.

A quick note on the call

Just backtracking a bit here – when Aziraphale calls Crowley to ask him for help Crowley agrees to be over in two minutes. It’s instant, no questions asked and at first glance looks like Aziraphale calls and Crowley comes running just because. But nope. Later we are very clearly told that Crowley knows something is wrong the moment he picks up the phone and Aziraphale starts speaking, “This was your ‘Something’s Wrong’ voice.” Crowley already knows there’s a problem and what do you do when your closest friend calls you and tells you about a problem? You try to help. Whether that’s advice, comfort, physically going around to help out or whatever the situation calls for. Of course Crowley says he’ll be there in two minutes, he doesn’t exactly have anything else on and his friend has just indirectly told him something is wrong. He’d be a pretty shitty person/entity if he didn’t agree to drop round and try to help.

So what about the 'I was wrong' dance?

This whole interaction, that many people say indicates how under the thumb he is actually shows us the exact opposite. What’s the first thing Crowley says when Aziraphale asks him to do the dance? “I don’t do the dance.” This tells us a hell of a lot about their relationship dynamic up to this point – for a start Aziraphale has clearly done the dance before, at Crowley’s request, and he lists off the occasions. The dance is silly and slightly demeaning and Aziraphale has done it several times for Crowley, whilst Crowley has never done it, yet somehow we read this whole scene as Crowley being the whipped one? Um. No. Also heavily implied in Crowley’s, “I don’t do the dance” statement is, You’ve asked me to do this before, I’ve always said no because I don’t want to. You’ve always accepted my no before and I want (expect!) you to accept it this time.

But this time Aziraphale doesn’t accept the no. Just like Crowley wouldn’t go along with his plan earlier, Aziraphale now won’t go along with Crowley’s no. Clearly he has done so in the past, but this time their dynamics are different. They’ve been much more open about their friendship for the past four years, they’ve both accepted that they are at least close friends, if not more. They’ve saved the world together and saved each other. They both acknowledge they “carved (this existence) out for ourselves” and that brings strength to their relationship. Now that Aziraphale has more confidence in what they are to each other, he takes that confidence and tests the limits of what Crowley will do for him, to push them more towards equality. Why should he always be the one to do the dance? Crowley responds by acquiescing not because he would just roll over and do anything for Aziraphale but because he recognises three things. Firstly that Aziraphale is pushing and that this is new and that this means something to him in the context of their relationship, secondly because he reluctantly accepts Aziraphale’s point that it isn’t really fair that he never does it, and finally because the request for him to do the dance isn’t about him refusing to help (Aziraphale was never certain he would), it’s about the fact that he’s broken Aziraphale’s trust by refusing to help (which is a slightly and very subtly different thing). To illustrate this, right before Crowley does the dance, just after he says “fine,” he gets this very brief, soft look on his face – this is him acknowledging to himself that Aziraphale deserves this dance, that he loves the angel and that he’s doing this because of both those things – he could have continued to insist on a no, he clearly has before, but this time he chooses not to.

I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you.

All right, what about the car thing?

What about it? Lending your car to the person you love is very normal. Ok so the car means more to Crowley than a normal car does to us, but the point still stands. Aziraphale is making a reasonable request here. Does he expect a yes? Absolutely, because he also knows it’s a reasonable request given where their relationship is. Does he flirt to get his own way? Hell, yes. Does Crowley know exactly what Aziraphale is playing at? Also a hell yes. And Crowley totally plays up to it, he’s not as opposed to it as he claims. He’s playing up his “no” and his grumpiness for effect, to encourage Aziraphale’s silly flirtiness. Look at the difference between this no and the no he gave Aziraphale earlier. There’s no anger here, there’s no real sense that he thinks Aziraphale is asking too much, he’s playing a role in their relationship and they’ve both played this game before. Look at that little slap of the hand, which Aziraphale responds to equally playfully. The game even continues after Muriel turns up at the shop, when it’s already quite clear that Crowley is going to let Aziraphale use the car (he’s already taking the plants out). Even in the back-room Crowley still teasingly grumbles about trains whilst Aziraphale smiles flirtily, and Crowley playfully withholds the car keys when Muriel interrupts them. They both know Aziraphale is going to end up with them, there’s no point to him not directly handing them over in spite of the interruption, it’s just an excuse to tease Aziraphale back. I mean, look at him – he spends the rest of the conversation wiggling his hips, grinning smugly and confidently handling the Muriel problem by talking about love. Aziraphale’s very overt reaction tells you all you need to know about the dynamic of this one.

Two can play at this flirting game, angel.

But he follows him around like a little puppy!

Well, yes and no. Sure he follows him around whilst he goes around asking all the shopkeepers to the meeting, but he does that because it’s fun for him. He’s curious, Aziraphale is acting oddly, doing something he’s never done before and Crowley wants to know what it is. He’s always found him fascinating – what silly and ridiculous thing is the angel up to now?

Also wanting to hang out with the person you are in love with isn’t at all strange or a sign you are in some sort of weird relationship where only one of you calls the shots. It’s normal. Crowley knows Aziraphale has a tendency to be silly or do unexpected things and he wants to watch him do them and also flirt with him whilst he’s doing them. Looking grumpy and reacting to Aziraphale’s silliness with disbelief is how Crowley flirts-without-flirting. Both of them know, understand and like that dynamic, and he has that role not because he’s unhealthy levels enthralled with everything Aziraphale does but because of the levels of trust they have spent millennia establishing.

What Crowley doesn’t do is wait around for Aziraphale. Look at the scene where Aziraphale daydreams about Job. In that scene he’s aware Aziraphale has something else to show him (the record clue), but he doesn’t stick around whilst Aziraphale ignores him. He could have sat down somewhere in the shop and waited – he’s got an eternity, waiting an hour or so is no big deal, but waiting around like that would suggest he really is a doormat, just waiting for the next time Aziraphale shows him any attention. He doesn’t do that, instead he goes off and does… well, something. There’s a lot of speculation over what it is, but whether he goes off to read Pride and Prejudice or just wanders off to find something more interesting to look at than the back of Aziraphale’s head, he’s clearly saying here that he has a life outside of whatever Aziraphale wants to do.

Also side note - you know what else he doesn’t do for Aziraphale? Adjust his driving style. Aziraphale clearly hates it, it makes him nervous and he even asks Crowley to change several times whilst they’re in the car together, but Crowley never does. This is how I am angel, accept it or don’t, but this is the line and I’m not changing this for you. Related to this is his refusal to accept Aziraphale altering the Bentley. Aziraphale tries to persuade him, “But it’s pretty,” and Crowley really isn’t having it. It’s another hard line and he’s not going to let Aziraphale cross it.

Anything else?

There’s a few other examples that I’ve seen listed in the, “Crowley does whatever Aziraphale says/wants” evidence piles. Things like Aziraphale assuming he’s going to get the drinks in the pub. Well, someone has to get them, and it makes perfect sense that they both assume it’s Crowley here because he’s the one more comfortable with pubs. Having a role that you take on within certain situations in a relationship is healthy and normal, imagine how exhausting it would be to debate who is going to do every little thing all of the time.

In the first series the coat cleaning is another example often cited, but this is something Crowley is perfectly happy to do. Aziraphale is flirting, which is delightful, and he’s not being asked to do anything difficult or dangerous. I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you, which is totally different from, you always ask, I always give, and you always take.

What about Aziraphale. When does he give?

All the damn time. We just don’t notice it as much because Crowley asks different things of him. His love language is acts of service towards others, but he doesn’t really ask or require them in return. Sometimes he gets them from Aziraphale anyway (Holy water anyone?) Also notably in the Globe Theatre when he’s clearly the one pushing the Arrangement, and Aziraphale more or less agrees to do his work for him (“That doesn’t sound like hard work”) even before he’s asked, before they’ve gone through their little dance of Crowley pushing and Aziraphale supposedly-reluctantly agreeing.

The other things Aziraphale gives Crowley are much more nuanced, and much less measurable to us as the audience, but he gives them constantly, or more or less constantly, throughout their relationship. He gives him acceptance (although he occasionally partially withdraws it, such as in the bandstand scene), his silliness (which is more important than it first appears), a safe space (not just the bookshop, but also a safe space for Crowley to air his real views without fear of consequence, which is important irrespective of whether or not he persuades Aziraphale to agree with him), his physicality (by 1826 he’s really in Crowley’s space so much of the time) and most importantly he gives Crowley himself. Crowley constantly pushes Aziraphale to grow as a person, it’s one of the original reasons he entertains developing a friendship with him. What he asks of Aziraphale is for Aziraphale to think – really think – about what he believes. And Aziraphale does so, but only for Crowley. Humans have constantly questioned religious beliefs throughout history, they’ve written books, made speeches and even had wars over religious doctrine and the problems, inconsistencies and absurdities within it. Crowley is saying nothing to Aziraphale that he won’t already have indirectly heard from humans and dismissed or ignored. But when Crowley says it, he thinks and he changes. That’s what Crowley asks of Aziraphale and it’s what Aziraphale gives him.

What was the point of all this waffle?

Well, honestly there isn’t much of one. Only that their relationship is much more balanced than some suggest and I think I just wanted to spell that out. It also has an implication for the final 15 minutes. There’s no way Aziraphale goes into that with some sort of fake confidence that he can persuade Crowley to follow him to heaven simply because Crowley always follows him – Crowley doesn’t, he has very clear limits that he enforces with Aziraphale and Aziraphale knows this. He might feel confident for other reasons (such as thinking Crowley will be happy to be an angel again) or something else entirely different might be happening (so many theories!) but I’m pretty sure it’s nothing to do with thinking Crowley always does what he asks, because he very clearly doesn’t.

It's also why Crowley waits around afterwards to watch Aziraphale leave. It’s a way indirectly of saying one final time, I love you and I enjoy making you happy… but this is something I cannot give to you.

#good omens 2 #good omens #good omens meta #apology dance #ineffable husbands #ineffable fandom #acts of service #crowley loves aziraphale #aziraphale loves crowley #aziraphale #crowley

[tainbocuailnge]

it's easy to dunk on people with poor reading comprehension or to look down on them (consciously or not) even if you're not actively shaming them for "not getting it" or "being stupid" but it's not actually helpful. it's a worrying development that many people (particularly many young people) are becoming resistant to the idea that complex and/or challenging books have value but it's also an understandable development, because in many cases it's a reaction to being shamed for their struggles with literacy and not given the help they would've needed to develop an adequate level of literacy.

that's not even going into what should even be considered an "adequate" level of literacy to begin with, because the truth is that a lot of people will simply never be able to read better than absolutely necessary to navigate their daily life, and this shouldn't be treated as some kind of failure on their part. the goal of literacy education should be to give people the tools for self-sufficiency.

what's worrying is not that there are a lot of people who don't engage with complex texts, but that there are a lot of people who refuse to believe that there is something to be gained from engaging with complex texts. someone doesn't have to read or understand shakespeare or kafka or what-have-you in order to live a fulfilling life, but when they become resistant to the idea that a text can have something going on beyond what's immediately apparent on the surface, they become easy targets for deception. this hinders the self-sufficiency that literacy is supposed to provide them with.

the goal of you high school language class is not just to get you to analyze texts, but to introduce you to the idea that texts can be analyzed in the first place, even if you don't go on to be particularly good at actually analyzing them yourself. you don't need to be able to read between the lines to understand that it is possible to read between the lines, and that therefore a text that seems nonsensical to you at first may simply be written for an audience of a different skill level - this is only a problem if there is a mismatch between the complexity of the text and the literacy of its target audience. an inability to read for subtext is not a personal failure, nor does the ability to read for subtext make you a better person than someone who can't. literacy is a skill, and like any skill there are people to whom it comes more easily than others.

calling people who are drawn to anti-intellectual rhetoric due to their struggles with literacy stupid is not going to encourage them to change their mind. developing media literacy and reading comprehension is something that is very difficult to do on your own, and doubly so if any attempt at trying to learn is met with derision for not already being able to do it. the problem is not people who only engage with easy texts, the problem is people growing hostile towards the idea that there is worth in engaging with more complex texts

if reading comprehension has always come naturally to you, it can be difficult to grasp how someone can fail to understand a text that you thought was easy enough to follow. I myself am guilty of snapping at people for misinterpreting me so wildly it seemed like they were doing it on purpose. you need to learn to suppress this kneejerk reaction, and instead see this frustration as common ground: you are both facing a situation where your communication skills are insufficient. what can you do to bridge this gap? how can you present this information in different ways that better suit how the other party processes information? keep in mind that this does not necessarily mean to simplify the information, because nobody likes being condescended to, and being condescended to is in many cases exactly what made these people hostile towards more complex ideas to begin with.

I don't have an easy solution, because this is a complex problem, and what helps some people will inevitably be useless to many others. but I believe fostering a culture where you won't be met with derision or ridicule for not understanding something or needing more explanation will go a long way. next time someone comments on your post with an absolutely baffling take that makes you wonder if they even read what you said, consider that maybe they are trying to engage with a text that is above their reading level, and they genuinely lack the ability to parse and retain the information you presented in the way you presented it. if you're going to respond, try to do so in good faith.

#anyway i love cuchulainn

[jimmy-dipthong]

Really good anime translation: コタローは一人暮らし

I complained in a post a while ago about how I mostly think english translations of anime aren’t very good, and @japanwords asked me if there were any anime I know of that have good translations. I don’t actually watch that much anime so I didn’t have a good answer, but recently I found one that really fit the bill: 『コタローは一人暮らし』or “Kotaro lives alone”

For those who haven’t seen it, it’s a show about a 5 year old kid who lives alone without any parents or guardians, and makes friends with his neighbours in the apartment complex (a lazy manga artist, a woman who’s a hostess at a local nightclub, and a scary yakuza who finds Kotaro unbelievably cute). These friends end up helping Kotaro when he needs someone to act as a guardian, such as when he enrols at the local kindergarten.

The other thing you have to know about Kotaro is he speaks like a Japanese feudal lord.

This really is the crux of what makes the translation so good, because how the hell do you translate that?! The way they chose to do it is by using archaic english phrases. He kinda speaks like a Victorian era gentleman, and he sometimes even verges on sounding like a stereotypical medieval knight. This works perfectly, because Kotaro is actually imitating a character from his favourite cartoon: a samurai hero/feudal lord. Let’s look at some examples:

「放すである」 "Unhand me!"

A simple example to start with, I thought it might be interesting to compare how a 5 year old might actually say this, and how I would translate that:

「放してー！😭"」 "Let goooo! 😭"

Even though the japanese uses the same verb (放す), the english translation is completely different. The choice here to make it “unhand me” (much more evocative of a time period) instead of just “let go of me” (simply a longer way of saying it) is a perfect example of the care this anime puts into its translation.

狩野：「美月さん、アイス食べます？…… あれ？」 “Hey, Mizuki. Would you like an ice cream cone? …… Hello?” 美月：「アイスをもらうけど私、狩野くん誘ってないんだよなぁ」 “While I appreciate the ice cream, you know you weren’t actually invited, Karino.” コタロー：「お邪魔である」 “Interloper.”

邪魔 is a notoriously difficult word to translate, and the natural-sounding corresponding english phrase will vary quite wildly depending on the situation. In non-feudal lord speech, it usually gets translated to something like “you’re getting in my way” or “get out of here” or even “you’re a burden” (my least favourite).

Here, it’s creatively translated as “interloper”! A great way of sneaking in some archaic english while deftly handling a classically difficult-to-translate word.

コタロー：「わらわは写真が大の苦手なのだ」 “I am ill-disposed to having my picture taken!”

Here we have a slightly longer sentence which shows us a bit more of Kotaro’s unusual speech pattern. He uses the archaic first-person pronoun わらわ（妾）and often ends his sentences in なのだ. なのだ is not a particularly odd grammar structure to use, but it is unusual to use it unabbreviated (i.e. not shortening it to なんだ and/or adding よ to the end) especially when using it in speech rather than in writing. Not abbreviating it (as would be expected in a formal situation), but immediately contrasting that formality with the informal だ rather than です causes the speech to sound archaic without actually using any archaic vocabulary.

Now, if this show only translated the old-timey speech pattern well, I’d still call it a good translation. But the attention to detail and focus on natural sounding language extends to the other characters too!

Let’s take a look at an example of Karino’s speech. This is from ep 3; we already know a fair bit about who he is - a manga artist who doesn’t leave the house much (mostly works from home), usually wears comfortable clothes around, leaves things til the last minute and is generally a pretty lazy guy. I say this because the following translation doesn’t “work” (that is, the english and japanese wouldn’t mean the same thing) if it was spoken by a different kind of character.

phone rings 狩野：「担当さんかー」 “Oh great, it’s my editor” 狩野：「お疲れ様です、狩野です。… はい … 今日原稿を？はい、わかりました。じゃあ、後で」 “Hello, this is Karino. How may I help you? … Yes … Wait. Now, now? … Uh-huh, yes. Okay, thank you, I’ll be there soon.” コタロー：「どこか行くのか？」 “Do you need to go somewhere?” 狩野：「仕事。出版社に行く。今回もダメ出しされんのかな？」 “Yeah, I gotta go to work. There goes my day. … I’m sure he’ll just rip it apart like he always does.” 狩野：「あの人結構グサグサ刺さる事言うんだよなぁ」 “The way he criticises, it’s actually pretty hurtful.”

I really like this translation, it feels very clever and results in very natural sounding english. I said this wouldn’t work for a different character, but I think even for the same character, this translation wouldn’t work on ep 1 - the audience wouldn’t have the context for the translation to omit the specific words it does and get away with it.

For example, the line 「今日原稿を？」 directly refers to a manga draft, but the draft isn’t directly referred to in the english. But it ends up being ok, because we can infer that he’s handing in some sort of draft for review from a later line (”I’m sure he’ll just rip it apart…”). Also, 「出版社に行く」 directly states that he’s going to the publishing house, but the english simply refers to it as “work”. But we can infer this too - he’s going to see his editor, and since most of his work is drawing and writing, which he does at home, we know that when he says he’s “going to work”, he’s actually going to the publishing offices.

Prioritising the natural sound of the script over the specific details is a bold choice that really pays off, imo. This is some of the most natural english I’ve ever seen in an anime translation. I recommend checking it out if you’re interested!

#langblr #japanese #japanese language #language #translation #learning japanese #essay #jimmy blogthong

[griseldagimpel]

They/Them

Something I've noticed in online spaces is that the same words can mean slightly - or sometimes wildly - different things to different people. Take the they/them pronouns in the English language, for instance.

They/them can be a set of pronouns that simply does not indicate gender, they way "I" and "you" are pronouns in English that just do not indicate gender. The proper gendered pronouns for me are she/her, but they/them does not misgender me because they/them are not pronouns that convey gender.

They/them can also be pronouns that convey distance and deemphasize gender. If I'm talking about, say, an author or someone on the internet I don't know very well, and their gender isn't relevant to the topic at hand, I'll often use they/them pronouns for them. I don't know them well enough to know their pronouns off the top of my head, and it's not pertinent to the conversation at hand. I don't need to identify a person's gender in every context, actually.

They/them can also function as The Official Pronouns for the Non-binary Gender (tm). Using they/them pronouns is not actually synonymous with being non-binary, in truth, but using they/them pronouns can function as a shorthand to convey non-binaryness. You see this with fictional non-binary characters a lot, like Raine in The Owl House. A lot of language is about convenience, and sometimes complexity and nuance is sacrificed for that.

They/them can also function as a way to misgender trans people. If you're a big enough jerk, you can pretty much make anything a tool for your goal of being a jerk.

The fact that people use the same words to mean different things can cause difficulties in communication, but attempting to get everyone to agree on a meaning is an exercise in futility, I'm afraid. But it's a good idea to keep in mind that you and someone else might be using the same words to mean different things, since that can be useful avoid miscommunication. Sometimes you just have to define your terms to make sure everyone is on the same page.

#Language #Communication #Pronouns #But also #Many such cases

[qqueenofhades]

Speaking linguistically, when looking at the development of the word, "cabal" isn't actively meant to degrade Jewish people.

What I am saying is that it is more complex than simply saying "it is used because of overt opinions on Judaism". It evolved at a time when antisemitism was rife in Europe. At the same time, it underwent a process called semantic change (or semantic drift) which is extremely common to many words. Specifically, its meaning has widened: initially in English it had two concurrent meanings, one of which derived from the other. There was "the Jewish tradition as to the interpretation of the Old Testament." Its original association with concealed practice because of persecutions created an extension that meant "any tradition or special private interpretation" (source: OED).

Semantic widening happens all the time, because it's an inherent part of how language works (the converse, semantic narrowing, does too). The same is true for more innocuous words: "guy" derives from "Guy Fawkes" (yes the name precedes the common expression). The manikins that were burned in commemoration of the Gunpowder Plot were called guys, which led to people calling "grotesque" looking men "guys", which then became "any man."

Because of these processes, it is also virtually impossible to "banish" an established word from a language. People have wildly different contexts, and nowadays, the more general meaning of cabal has taken over entirely from its meaning originally associated with Kabballah. This is similar to how pretty much no one will think of Guy Fawkes when they use the word 'guy.'

It is good to be aware of linguistic etymology, but it is equally important to realize why it is so hard to change language based on its history, why not all terms like this are (still) actively meant to hurt minorities, and why you cannot hold people directly accountable for using a term like cabal. The best you can do is attend people to its history, and suggest a different option.

Language is fluent. Yes, English borrowed a lot from other languages, but so have other European languages. The reason English is such a "joke" in a way is, more than anything, because 1. The borrowing into English happened rapidly during a few periods in history that can be traced because of an extant written culture in all these languages (Latin, French, and English--more or less named in order of importance), and 2. English is massively overrepresented in the field of linguistics. We simply know a lot more about English than about most other languages.

Now, the reason I'm explaining all this is not to tell people using the word cabal is fine. I certainly won't be using it anymore!

It is because linguistic attitudes are actually super important in terms of politics, and the idea that the use of cabal is always and inherently problematic/antisemitic, even when people don't know its background, is--well. Problematic!

Why? There is a trend among the left to focus on people's use of language, and call them out on their grammar/spelling/vocabulary. This directly derives from the left's appreciation of knowledge. Unfortunately, this knowledge is largely prescriptive and takes an extremely limited view on how language works. I.e. people are very quick to undermine politicians and fellow voters based on arbitrary linguistic features that do not fit what they think is "good language" i.e. the standard established language used in school and academia (I say "language" because this is not specific to English). This alienates large groups of people who do not speak that language. The right, on the other hand, is a lot better at adjusting their language depending on the crowd they're speaking to, which is part of why people with lower educations are more inclined to listen to them (because they understand them better). (See: The Languages of Nation: Attitudes and Norms, eds. Carol Percy and Mary Catherine Davidson (2012), in particular "You Say Nucular; I Sa Yourstupid: Popular Prescriptivism in the Politics of the United States" by Don Chapman).

Absolutely yes, all of this, and I'm very impressed with you typing out this whole long and thoughtful essay in my inbox (complete with references!) There is a strong tendency on both the left and right to act as if "just never say this word!" and "just never read this book!" somehow suffices for fixing the problems of society, and in both cases, it never works. Obviously, I was not using the word "cabal" in any kind of intended anti-Semitic context, whether explicitly or implicitly, despite the fact that it originally derived from a derogatory usage of "kabbalah." But when someone (politely!) told me that they felt uncomfortable with that usage in that particular context, I (politely!) agreed that they were right and to edit the original post to change the word. It has already been reblogged several thousand times, so that's not going to have a ton of impact, but still.

As you say, and as I have also said, language is a flawed human tool used to represent a flawed human culture, and as such, it will incorporate those biases and shortcomings, whether or not it means to. It's also not the solution to attack people indiscriminately, in an attempt to get Internet Call-Out Brownie Points, for simply not knowing the extensive etymology of every single common English word that they may encounter (discussing English in this case as it is usually the lingua franca of the Internet). We are never going to have a Morally Pure version of any language or any other system of cultural representation and communication, because too much other stuff has built up in the wheels throughout the centuries, it changes in weird and arbitrary and often pointless ways, and that's because it's not designed in a lab. It's a messy system of semantics used and altered by billions of people every day, and that is always impossible to anticipate, police, or force into one perfect shape.

Anyway, yes; I too will be much more careful with my usage of "cabal" in the future, because we've all had this discussion and we know that there are people who are made uncomfortable by it. Most ordinary well-meaning people don't WANT to be purposefully or deliberately offensive, so if they know the reasons why a certain word is troublesome, they'll make an effort to remove it from their vocabulary or find alternatives. But as you say, the deliberate bad-faith internet culture of always assuming the worst of everyone, leaping to the conclusion that they must be knowingly using any word/term/general concept in the worst possible way, and attacking them for it, is not at all helpful, and doesn't really drive important conversations about these subjects. It just makes everyone mad and defensive and hurt, and that's never a good way to actually make change.

#anonymous #ask

[0613magazine]

210513 Rolling Stone

The Triumph of BTS

How seven young superstars rewrote music-biz rules and became the biggest band in the world

“This is a very serious and deep question,” says RM, the 26-year-old leader of the world’s biggest band. He pauses to think. We’re talking about utopian and dystopian futures, about how the boundary-smashing, hegemony-overturning global success of his group, the wildly talented seven-member South Korean juggernaut BTS, feels like a glimpse of a new and better world, of an interconnected 21st century actually living up to its promise.

BTS’ downright magical levels of charisma, their genre-defying, sleek-but-personal music, even their casually nontoxic, skin-care-intensive brand of masculinity — every bit of it feels like a visitation from some brighter, more hopeful timeline. What RM is currently pondering, however, is how all of it contrasts with a darker landscape all around them, particularly the horrifying recent wave of anti-Asian violence and discrimination across a global diaspora. 

“We are outliers,” says RM, “and we came into the American music market and enjoyed this incredible success.” In 2020, seven years into their career, BTS’ first English-language single, the irresistible “Dynamite,” hit Number One, an achievement so singular it prompted a congratulatory statement from South Korea’s president, Moon Jae-in. The nation has long been deeply invested in its outsize cultural success beyond its borders, known as the Korean Wave.

“Now, of course, there is no utopia,” RM continues. “There’s a light side; there’s always going to be a dark side. The way we think is that everything that we do, and our existence itself, is contributing to the hope for leaving this xenophobia, these negative things, behind. It’s our hope, too, that people in the minority will draw some energy and strength from our existence. Yes, there’s xenophobia, but there are also a lot of people who are very accepting. . . . The fact that we have faced success in the United States is very meaningful in and of itself.”

At the moment, RM is in an acoustically treated room at his label’s headquarters in Seoul, wearing a white medical mask to protect a nearby translator, a black bucket hat, and a black hoodie from the Los Angeles luxury label Fear of God. As RM has had to explain too many times on U.S. talk shows, he taught himself his fluent English via bingeing Friends DVDs. Still, he makes understandable use of the interpreter when the conversation gets complex.

RM is a fan of complexity. He was on a path toward an elite university education before a love of hip-hop, first sparked by a Korean group, Epik High, detoured him into superstardom. Bang Si-hyuk, the cerebral, intense-yet-avuncular mogul-producer who founded BTS’ record company, Big Hit Entertainment (now HYBE), signed RM first, in 2010, and gradually formed BTS around the rapper’s talent and magnetism. “When I first met RM,” says Bang, “I felt a sense of duty that I must help him grow to become a great artist after acknowledging his musical talents and ways of thinking.”

When BTS debuted in 2013, Big Hit was an underdog startup in a South Korean music business then dominated by three huge firms (Bang had been a producer for one of them, JYP). Now, thanks to BTS’ success, HYBE is a publicly traded corporation so large it just snapped up the American management company behind Justin Bieber and Ariana Grande. “We always set goals and standards that may seem ideal, and try our best to get there as close as possible,” Bang says. “It’s still the same.”

A lengthy recruitment and audition process brought RM his six bandmates: fellow rappers Suga and J-Hope, and singers Jung Kook, V, Jimin, and Jin. Jung Kook, the youngest member, whose multiple talents include an extraordinarily soulful tenor, had offers to sign with multiple entertainment agencies, but chose Big Hit and BTS because of RM. “I just simply thought RM was really cool,” Jung Kook says. “I really didn’t know a lot about being a singer. But when I saw him rap, I just thought he was really, really awesome. And I believe maybe it was fate that drew me to him.”

Suga and J-Hope were the first two members to join after RM, at a point when Bang imagined a pure hip-hop group. (There were a bunch of other rapper trainees on board with them, all ultimately jettisoned in favor of the singers as BTS became more of a pop hybrid.) Suga, also a fan of Epik High, as well as American rappers like T.I., was already a skilled rapper when he joined, much to his parents’ displeasure. “They didn’t understand rap music,” says Suga. “It’s natural that they were against what I was doing. I think that helped me work harder because there was something that I had to prove.” On the intense 2016 solo track “The Last” (recorded under the alias Agust D), Suga revealed battles with OCD, social anxiety, and depression. “I’m comfortable now and feeling good,” he says. “But those sort of negative emotions come and go. For anybody, these emotions are not things that need to be hidden. They need to be discussed and expressed. Whatever emotions I may be feeling, I’m always ready to express them.” 

With the group’s sunniest personality, J-Hope is beloved by his fellow members. (“I think J-Hope can run for president of the world,” says V; “There will be at least six votes from us,” RM adds.) J-Hope is a stunning dancer, and a surprisingly aggressive rapper, a skill he learned in his trainee days. “When I first started training, all the members were rappers,” he says. “So when you went into the house, beats were dropping. Everyone was just rapping in freestyle. It was kind of not easy to adapt at first.”

Jin, whose background was in acting, was recruited on the street by a Big Hit scout on the basis of sheer handsomeness. He’s developed formidable musical skills, but enjoys joking about the attention to his looks. “I want to emphasize, for the record, that everybody went berserk about how good-looking I was,” he says of a recent appearance on a South Korean TV variety show. At the same time, he can be touchingly insecure. “I lack in many areas,” he says. “Other members will learn a dance once and they’ll be able to dance right away to the music, but I can’t. So I try to work harder so I don’t hold the other members back or be a burden.”

V, a fan of jazz, classical music, and Elvis Presley, with a distinct baritone, ended up a Big Hit trainee by accident, after showing up to support an auditioning friend. He was a “hidden member,” who didn’t appear on camera in the endless vlogs and other ingenious online promotion that preceded BTS’ debut in June 2013. “I actually can’t understand it whatsoever,” he says now, with a laugh. “Why did they do that? Why was that the concept? I really had no idea!” (Bang belatedly offers an answer: “We needed momentum to announce that the team called BTS was finally complete. V had great charms in terms of appearance and personality, so I thought it would be impactful when he was revealed last. It was an effective strategy in forming the team’s overall image, as well as leaving an impression of each member.”)

Jimin is a virtuosic, formally trained dancer who also hits some of the most impossibly high notes in BTS’ catalog. He has a strong perfectionist streak. “Dancing was my own world and my own space,” says Jimin, who feels he owes BTS’ fans flawless performances. “For their sake and for their devotion, I shouldn’t make mistakes.” 

He’s also deeply attached to his team. “We were very different people that came together,” Jimin says. “We argued a lot in the beginning, of course, but I think now, because we have spent so much time together, I began to like even the things about the other members I used to hate. The time we spent together really made us close, like a family. No matter where I go, there is someplace that I can come back to. I’ve come to feel that way about our group.”

RM carries himself with a level of gravitas that was perhaps incongruent with his initial stage name of Rap Monster, officially shortened in 2017. He drops quotes from Nietzsche and the abstract artist Kim Whan-ki in interviews, and celebrated his 26th birthday by donating nearly $85,000 to a museum foundation to support the reprinting of rare fine-art books. He and Suga fill their rhymes with double- and triple-entendres that would impress U.S. hip-hop heads who’ve never thought much about BTS.

The group as a whole shares a penchant for weighty themes, basing an album cycle on Jungian psychology, brilliantly using Pluto’s loss of full-planet status as a romantic metaphor on the song “134340,” lacing music videos with a labyrinthine ongoing storyline. Even their between-song banter is full of uncommon depth. “We all have galaxies in our hearts,” RM once told an arena full of fans. “Even my dad, who works every day. And my mom, who’s a realtor. And my little sister, too. Even the stray dogs and stray cats on the street. Even the rocks on the ground. . . . But there are people who will never know this until they die.” (Later, he’d co-write the 2019 BTS track “Mikrokosmos,” which draws on a similar theme.)

It’s not uncommon for the members of BTS to shed a tear or two while they’re addressing fans onstage. Along with their comfort with makeup and iridescent hair dye, it all plays into their instinctive rejection of rigid conceptions of masculinity. “The labels of what being masculine is, is an outdated concept,” says RM. “It is not our intention to break it down. But if we are making a positive impact, we are very thankful. We live in an age where we shouldn’t have those labels or have those restrictions.” 

In their early days, with their singles “No More Dream” and “N.O.,” BTS wrote directly about the frustrations of South Korean youth, who faced relentless pressure and competition in school and the job market. (BTS were carrying on a tradition: K-pop progenitors Seo Taiji and Boys hit similar thematic notes in the early 1990s, while drawing on then-current American hip-hop and R&B, just as BTS would — the first single from Taiji’s group prominently samples Public Enemy’s “Bring the Noise.”) BTS has since learned that their initial message, along with later lyrics that grapple with identity, self-love, mental health, and much more, had enough wider currency to make them spokesmen for a global generation — literally: They’ve addressed the United Nations General Assembly, twice. 

“When we wrote those songs, and those messages, of course, it wasn’t from some knowledge or awareness of the education system in the United States or anywhere else,” says RM. “We were teenagers at that time. There were things we were able to say, from what we felt and from our experiences about the unreasonableness of school, or the uncertainties and the fears and anxieties that teens have. And a common thought and a common emotion resonated with youth, not just in Korea, but in the United States, and the West.”

BTS’ full name, Bangtan Sonyeondan, translates to “Bulletproof Boy Scouts,” and the idea, roughly, was that they would be friends and protectors of youth, on an almost spiritual level. (Later, they declared that BTS also stood for “Beyond the Scene.”) “I didn’t want them to be false idols,” Bang once said. “I wanted to create a BTS that could become a close friend.” 

In December, BTS had another Number One U.S. hit with “Life Goes On,” a wistful ballad that stands as the definitive pop response to the pandemic year. But because the lyrics are almost entirely in Korean, the song received virtually no play on U.S. radio; its chart position came from streaming and purchases, and the obvious demand wasn’t enough for radio to reconsider. RM, for one, is still hopeful that particular wall will shatter. “If they feel it, I think they will change,” he says. “The barriers are still breaking down. It keeps going on and on.”

In the meantime, BTS is following up “Dynamite” with another English-language single, “Butter,” due May 21st. Like the lighthearted “Dynamite,” “Butter” has no heavy message. It’s a pure, swaggering dance-pop celebration in the retro vein of Bruno Mars, with layers of Jam and Lewis-style synths and boasts of being “smooth like butter” and having a “superstar glow.” “It’s very energetic,” says RM. “And very summery. It has a very dynamic performance.” There’s clearly more music coming as well — several Western songwriters who’ve worked with the group in the past say they’re currently in touch with BTS’ team about new songs. 

By taking a strong hand in the writing of their music, BTS have always stood apart from traditional K-pop methods, and, for that matter, much of songwriting-camp-dominated U.S. pop, too. (Whether BTS are actually part of K-pop at this point is a hotly debated topic among their fans, known as ARMY — many believe the group has transcended the label.) “They feel organic and unique,” says Late Late Show host James Corden, a fan who’s had them on several times since 2017. “It never feels like they’re in the machine. They are the machine.”

RM and Suga have both been producing for years, and Suga has numerous songwriting credits for other artists. Outside of the members’ contributions, most of the production and songwriting was long accomplished in-house at Big Hit, with Bang and a team of producers and songwriters collaborating. Starting circa 2017, Western songwriters and producers joined the process, but their contributions were part of a group effort.

Head producer Pdogg tends to select the best melodies and sections from various creators, who could be anywhere in the world. “It’ll come back and they’ll say, ‘We love these two parts that you did,’ ” says August Rigo, a Filipino Canadian songwriter who worked on the 2020 singles “Black Swan” and “On.” “ ‘Then we have this verse, and we have this section that we’re not quite sure of.’ So it’s like piecing a puzzle together in collaboration with BTS. . . . It wasn’t like, two days and it was done. No, it was two, three months, maybe six or seven revisions.”

In at least one case, BTS ended up scouting collaborators on their own. After the Brooklyn production duo Brasstracks noticed one of their songs playing in the background of a behind-the-scenes BTS video, they tweeted about it, and soon heard from Big Hit. “The next thing we knew there was an email, saying, ‘Hey, we’re doing this and we’re looking for this’ and ‘BTS is into your work,’” says Ivan Jackson, one half of Brasstracks, who previously worked with Mark Ronson and Chance the Rapper. “I just think they have their ears to the ground in a way they don’t get their flowers for. Because we’re not huge producers. They didn’t get Timbaland.” Brasstracks sent a beat that ended up as the track “Dis-ease,” with a bridge section added by Pdogg and another producer, Ghstloop. “It was a really awesome case of collaboration,” says Jackson.

“Dynamite,” produced by U.K.-based pro David Stewart (not the Eurythmics guy) and written by Stewart and songwriting partner Jessica Agombar, another Brit, was an exception. HYBE put out word that BTS were ready for an English-language single, and BTS and their label chose the song from multiple submissions. “ ‘Dynamite’ would not have been released if BTS had been on tour as scheduled,” says Bang. “The project was chosen to shift the mood as a response to the pandemic situation. I thought it matched BTS, and that the song’s trendy vibes would be better expressed if sung in English.”

Forming a Covid bubble, BTS kept busy in the studio last year, first with “Dynamite” and then November’s album Be, the mellowest and most mature work of their career, which includes “Life Goes On.” But 2020 still provided their most time off since they joined Big Hit as trainees. For years they’d cheerfully mention how behind on sleep they were. Last year, they finally got some rest, and all of them speak of months of reflection and self-discovery. For Suga, who had been quietly struggling for years with a shoulder injury sustained while moonlighting as a delivery boy during his trainee days, it was a chance to finally have surgery. “There were times,” says Suga, now feeling better, “when I couldn’t lift my arms in a full range of motion during a concert.”

The bond between BTS and their ARMY is real, and the guys have genuinely missed their fans, missed the road. “When we couldn’t go on tour, everybody felt a sense of loss, a sense of powerlessness,” says Jin. “And we’re all sad. And it actually took us a while to get over those feelings.”

“The roar of the crowds and ARMY is something we loved,” says Jung Kook. “We miss that more and more. And we long for that more and more.”

BTS are as passionate in their advocacy for their ARMY as the fans are for them. “The ARMY is a lot more levelheaded than even we are,” says RM. Fans have lived up to BTS’ faith in them again and again, assembling professional-level documentaries, embarking on ambitious research and translation projects, and collectively matching BTS’ million-dollar donation to Black Lives Matter in just 25 hours.

Over the course of the group’s existence, none of the members of BTS have acknowledged any romantic relationships, though several have alluded to dating before they joined. The official line is they’re too busy. The usual pop-group thinking might suggest BTS worry about fan reaction on this subject, but Suga, at least, rejects that idea. “I have a hard time understanding this question,” he says. “The ARMY is a diverse group. In this hypothetical situation, some may accept it, some may not. Whether it’s dating, or something else, they’re all individuals, and they will understand things differently.”

In 2018, BTS negotiated a renewal of their contract with Bang’s company, committing to another seven years as a band. Two years later, they were given a financial stake in HYBE. “It’s very meaningful,” says RM, “for us and also the company, that we admit and recognize each other as true partners. Now Big Hit’s success is our success, and our success is Big Hit’s success.” It also meant a multimillion-dollar windfall for the group when HYBE went public last year. “That’s very important,” RM says with a grin.

There’s a pitfall waiting for BTS that every enduring male South Korean group has faced: In light of ongoing tensions with North Korea, men are typically required to start a 21-month term of military service by their 28th birthday. Jin turned 28 on December 4th, but that month, the government passed a law offering him a direct reprieve: “A pop-culture artist who was recommended by the Minister of Culture, Sports and Tourism to have greatly enhanced the image of Korea both within the nation and throughout the world” would now be able to wait until he’s 30 to serve. 

“I think the country sort of told me, ‘You’re doing this well, and we will give you a little bit more time,’ ” says Jin. Military service, he adds, “is an important duty for our country. So I feel that I will try to work as hard as I can and do the most I can until I am called.” 

Assuming that the law isn’t changed again, offering another extension, Jin understands it’s possible BTS could go on without him for a while. “I have no doubt that the other members will make a good decision because, you know, this is not something that I can tell them what to do,” he says. If they do spend time as a six-piece, “I’ll be sad, but I’ll be watching them on the internet and cheering them on.”

Suga is 28, J-Hope is 27, and RM turns 27 this year, so their service looms as well. At least one K-pop group, Shinhwa, got back together after their own time in the military, and are still a group after 23 years. BTS may well aspire to that kind of longevity. “So, yes, we will want to see ARMY as we do now,” says V. “I’m sure it will work out so that we can continue to see ARMY. About military service, or what will happen, we haven’t discussed it in the specifics amongst ourselves, but I’m sure it’ll work out eventually.”

For Jimin, at least, BTS is eternal. “I don’t think I’ve ever really thought of being not a part of this group,” he says. “I can’t imagine what I would do on my own. I think when I become older, and I grow my own beard” — he gestures to my facial hair and smiles — “I would like to think that at the end, when I’m too old to dance, I would just like to sit onstage with the other members and sing and engage with the fans. I think that would be great, too. So I’d like to keep this going as long as I possibly can.”

Source: Rolling Stone

#2021 #bts #rolling stone

[pannimanagement22]

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[readingloveswounds]

My Great Big Reading List

Here it is! These are the books that I’m trying to read this summer - in the future, some of them could be part of an exam reading list, but that is to be fully and officially built at a later date. I do not necessarily anticipate finishing this list in its entirety, but it’s got a whole lot of fairly different works on it.

I made it along a couple themes, just to narrow down my choices - very generally they were violence, war, bodies, and identity. I also added some that I was just interested in (see a few in the 18th and 19th centuries).

Not all of these have been easy to find online or in paper!

A final warning because Saint-Cyr and de Sade are both on there - be careful with those two books and be sure you want to read them prior to doing so - looking at their descriptions and being aware of de Sade, they deal with a lot of brutality. These aren’t really the kind of thing you’d read on a whim.

***Note that while reading over the summer before grad school is great, there is no actual requirement for doing so in most cases (in the US, at least as far as I know).***

Medieval

La Chanson de Roland Lancelot (Charrette) - Chretien de Troyes La Folie d'Oxford - Béroul Erec et Enide - Chretien de Troyes La Mort le roi Artur - (from the Vulgate-Grail, I think?) Aucassin et Nicolette Le Livre du voir dit - Guillaume de Machaut La Prison amoureuse - Jehan Froissart Le Livre de la cité des dames - Christine de Pizan Le Petit Jehan de Saintré - Antoine de la Sale Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles Le Charroi de Nimes

16th Century

Les Tragiques - Agrippa d'Aubigné Discours des misères de ce temps - Pierre de Ronsard Histoires tragiques - Francois de Belleforest Abraham sacrifiant - Théodore de Bèze Lepante - Guillaume de Salluste du Bartas la "Monomachie de David et de Goliath" - Joachim du Bellay Porcie - Robert Garnier La Rochelleide - Jean de la Gessée Illustrations de Gaule et Singularitez de Troie - Jean Lemaire de Belges Discours de la servitude volontaire - Etienne de la Boétie Médée - Jean de La Péruse Pantagruel - Francois Rabelais

17th Century

Oeuvres poétiques - Theophile de Viau Le cid - Corneille Andromaque, Phèdre, et Britannicus - Racine Contes - Charles Perrault Les Aventures de Télémaque - Fénelon La Mort d’Achille, La Mort d'Alexandre, Coriolan - Alexandre Hardy Dom Juan - Molière

18th Century

Le Diable amoureux - Jacques Cazotte Le Paradox sur le comedien - Denis Diderot La dispute - Pierre de Marivaux L'Esprit des lois - Charles Louis de Secondat Montesquieu Pauliska, ou la Perversité moderne - Jacques-Antoine de Reveroni Saint-Cyr* Aline et Valcour - Donatien Alphonse Francois de Sade* L'emigré - Gabriel Senac de Meilhan Paul et Virginie - Bernardin de Saint-Pierre Memoires du Comte de Comminge - Claudine-Alexandrine Guerin Tencin Traité sur la tolerance - Voltaire

19th Century

Atala - Chateaubriand La Chartreuse de Parme - Stendhal La fille aux yeux d'or - Balzac Lorenzaccio - Musset Le Dernier Jour d'un condamné - Victor Hugo La Sorcière - Michelet Carmen - Merimée La Morte Amoureuse - Gautier Les fleurs du mal - Baudelaire Les Diaboliques - Barbey d'Aurevilly Boule-de-Suif / Mademoiselle Fifi - Maupassant Les Chants de Maldoror - Leautreamont Igitur - Mallarme

20th Century

Cahier d'un retour au pays natal - Césaire Traversée de la mangrove - Condé Les Bonnes - Jean Genet Antigone - Anouilh La femme de Job - Chedid Nedjma - Kateb Yacine Le Cimetiere marin - Valéry La route des Flandres - Simon Stèles - Segalen La condition humaine - Malraux La Guerre de Troie n'aura pas lieu - Giradoux Le dimanche de la vie - Queneau

#sophie creates a reading list #long post #if you're newer to the french language i'd suggest starting with the 20th century works #simply because the language is not as wildly complex #and if you want to read some of the med/ren ones id suggest plays #feel free to ask me qs about this bc while i have not read all the works #i did do at least some research on them as i was putting them on here #was somewhat hesitant abt posting w the st cyr + de sade books #but i'm here to be realistic #and they do both technically fit the themes #im not reading justine bc im not sure i could deal with that book #also lol can u tell im not the biggest fan of 17th century lit

[hongism]

LET IT BLOW : C.SAN + K.YS 18+

» c.san x fem!reader x k.yeosang » fwb!san, it’s briefly mentioned that they’re all seniors in university, smut, 18+ dni if minor » language, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex: m, fingering, oral sex: f, recreational drug usage (weed), sex under the influence, threesome, spitroasting, choking, spit play/kink, nipple/breast play, hair pulling, biting, multiple orgasms, facials, messy messy sex, anal play/fingering, edging, overstimulation, rimming: m, cock milking, mlm content, hands free orgasm, dirty talk, praise, body/cock worship, petnames used: doll, baby, darling, kitten, sweetheart » part of the 12 days of christmas collab with @uhmingi​​ and @choijjongho​​​!! » word count: 7.2k » summary - among all the holiday traditions you’ve had, this one that you share with san is by far your favorite — you simply never expected it to become yeosang’s as well.

the days leading up to christmas, for you, are usually a drag in that it’s all wildly disappointing excitement waiting for the call from your parents that yet again they won’t be holding christmas festivities at home on account of another excursion to some exotic and tropical vacation they’ve decided to take. it leaves you alone in your apartment more often than not, but you suppose it could be much worse because there’s always one person who sticks around and he, in turn, spends the holidays with you, choi san is a doll like that — never lets you be alone on christmas.

that’s not the only tradition the two of you have come up with; san is the adventurous and excitable type so simply staying in and doing nothing is rarely on his agenda of things to do.

your favorite tradition that you share would have to be the one you have for christmas eve, aka get high as a kite and indulge a little in some debase physical pleasures together. it’s typically a mess of fucking that lasts for hours on end until the two of you pass out wherever you’ve ended up in his apartment, but it's familiar and nice and something you wholly enjoy and look forward to every year. and while the two of you aren’t strangers to fucking throughout the year, whenever one of you asks the other delivers, but those excursions are never planned and moreso impulse decisions to indulge in. christmas eve is the one time it’s planned and thus there’s a little trill of excitement rushing through you as the bus pulls up to the stop outside san’s apartment complex.

your phone dings against your thigh as you hop off the bus, waving to the driver over your shoulder and stepping out into the cool night air with an old scarf bundled around your neck. you know it’s san messaging now — either that or another sad apology from your mother that’s only half genuine. in any case, you ignore the message for the time being and continue up the short flight of stairs leading to san’s door. two knocks later, you’re entering the familiar apartment.

“hey,” san greets, pushing up into your form as he corners you by the door. you barely have the chance to open your mouth to respond before his lips are on yours, and his tongue slips over the seam of your lips to delve deeper within a second. you hum into the kiss; the taste on his tongue is sweet, almost fruity, and it makes you grin thanks to the realization it brings with it.

“got the good stuff this time?” you ask against his lips, reaching around the back of his head to tug him off you long enough to speak. his gaze lingers on your mouth with a sort of hazy focus. it doesn’t last long, however, because next thing you know he’s helping you out of your jacket and taking your scarf off to toss them over the bar counter without much preamble.

“only the best for you, doll.” warm hands slip lower and move up under the fabric of your shirt to skate over bare skin. the touch brings goosebumps along with it, and you’re left to simply sigh in contentment as san tugs you further into the apartment. it’s just the two of you home this time of year — his roommate is out all week and won’t be back until well after christmas — so his next words come as quite the surprise. “by the way, yeo called earlier. texted you about it, but i’m not sure whether you saw it or not.”

“yeosang? what for?” you aren’t unfamiliar with the man in the slightest; in fact, he’s one of the ones you consider yourself to be quite close to, not as much as san, but almost on the same level. he’s also someone you’ve been a bit entwined with in the past — both in terms of feelings and between the sheets, on the counter, over the back of a couch, that one time in the back of a closed library, you could go on but it doesn’t really matter all too much. the point being that while you’re no longer romantically linked to the man, the amicable feelings remained as you both explored other avenues. for you it was choi san and all the benefits that come with being friends with benefits. for him, it was delving more into the other side of his bisexuality and experimenting more there. it’s not rare for san to be talking to him either: after all, it was yeosang who introduced you to san soon after you met four years ago.

san sinks to the leather couch set in the middle of his apartment, legs spreading apart to welcome you as you slip between his knees. there’s an ease to your movements, a dance the two of you have done hundreds of times before, and that familiarity shows itself now in what’s almost akin to muscle memory. you drop your knees down on either side of his slim hips and sit back on your heels with hands settled on broad shoulders that are barely covered by his tee.

“he’s here for christmas too, not going home because of some big snowstorm back home or something. he asked if he could come over to smoke a bit,” san explains, reaching around your body to grab something from the coffee table behind you. when he returns to sitting back against the couch, he’s got a joint pinched between his index finger and thumb. it’s clear what the intention is as soon as he presents it to you, and your hands stay in place at his shoulders when he pushes it between your lips. “he knows that we have sort of a… tradition.”

you quirk a brow at san’s choice of words, noting how he’s quick to blink away from your face when you try to make eye contact. there’s no chance to question it at the moment though, and he diffuses whatever opportunity is left when he snaps his lighter over the end of the joint. you watch it burn, slightly disinterested and mind already drifting because of the news san has just presented to you, and only take a deep inhale when san sets the lighter down and grabs hold of the joint’s body once more.

“shotgun, c’mon,” he murmurs, lips parting a bit as he watches you take the hit. forefinger and thumb take hold of your chin, and you dip down into san’s space to exhale the opaque smoke into his waiting mouth. you watch with a pleasant warmth in your veins as his lashes flutter around the sensation and dip your lips in to place a delicate kiss to the corner of his mouth with the last puff of smoke. your bodies return to their steady rhythm — you taking the joint from his grasp as he throws both arms over the back of the couch and exhales the remaining smoke to the ceiling.

“yeosang doesn’t smoke though, does he?” you inquire now that you finally have the chance to speak. san shifts his head from side to side. his gaze is already a little bit unfocused, shifting to look all over your face as you slip the joint back between your lips. the drag you take this time is much longer, and you give it more time to settle in your throat before exhaling over san’s face. he looks pretty under the smoke, with the yellowy haze from his string lights making it gleam a little and enhance the shadows cast over his features. your brain fuzzes a little, and you reach down to trace his sharp cheekbones with the pads of your fingers a moment later. still looks soft and docile to you, even in this light.

“got a virgin throat, yeah—” you almost snort at the lewdness behind that figure of speech “—he’s never tried it before. said now’s the first real chance he’s got since he won’t be going home until next summer. his parents make him take a drug test every time he comes home at the end of a semester, they’re th—well, you know how they are.”

“mhm.” the noise borders on disinterested, but frankly you’re quite interested in san getting to the point he’s dancing around so vehemently. “oh how they loathed me.”

“said he wants to try with people who have experience. asked to come over.”

“tonight?” you echo. there’s a twinge of disappointment rolling through you then, at the idea of san breaking tradition now of all times when he could have taught yeosang how to smoke any other day of the week. san leans forward, and his lips brush over your throat. it’s lazy as he drags his mouth down the column of your neck, only stopping when he reaches your collarbone, and then he’s sucking at the skin there until it blossoms with purple under his teeth.

“he knows about our tradition,” san repeats. aka yeosang knows that you and san fuck and occasionally that the two of you get high and fuck, but that’s not much of a secret to anyone you’re friends with at this point.

“…and?”

“and?” san mimics. his brows go up to accentuate the question, and now you tilt your chin in clear confusion.

“are you wanting him to join?” you ask. it’s moreso to test the waters and see if you’re reading the room correctly, and based on the way san dips his chin a little, you’ve hit the nail right on the head.

“meh, wouldn’t be opposed if that’s something both of you wanted, but i’m not pushing for it, no. if you two wanted to mess around just the two of you as well, i’d be happy to sit back and watch the fun too. or if you want it to just be us and he’s not interested. or if you aren’t feeling it, and he wants to mess around. i’m winning no matter how this night plays out.”

“you know how i get, shut up,” you mutter, reaching down to slap his arm with a bit of force. “we used to fuck, you know.”

san nods slowly, several times until you’re gripping his jaw to stop the movements.

“san. i’m being serious.” there’s a moment of clarity there for you, where your reason pushing in through the fog over your brain to get your point across, and san’s gaze grows more focused as he recognizes your tone.

“i know, i know. i was around when that was happening, remember?”

“you aren’t gonna play jealous?” not that he ever has in the past, but you wouldn’t want yeosang’s first time smoking to be ruined by messy emotions or potential arguments.

“are you?”

you sit back a little more, regarding san with a look of surprise at the comment and what exactly it implies.

“we’ve talked about it before, you know. especially when he was first looking to explore more with his sexuality,” san murmurs, and once again he’s pushing up into your body. this time though, his arms come to wrap around your waist, and large hands splay across your lower back. he’s pushing your shirt up bit by bit, a useless sense of unhurried seduction when you’re already ready and waiting for him. “gimme a hit.”

it’s with a sort of soft fondness that you roll your eyes at the demand, pushing the end of the blunt between san’s lips for him to finish off.

“so y’all fucked too? aren’t we something special, a good ole triangle of good fucking, huh?”

“nah, he said it was weird to think about fucking around with me while the two of us were getting on in the sidelines. even if just to experiment.” san pushes off the back of the couch with you firmly in his grasp and leans all the way over to the coffee table to set the nub that’s left of the blunt down. “another?”

you shake your head.

“not right now. don’t wanna be too high before yeosang gets here.”

san hums, and as he settles back to his original position, he shifts to pull you down to the surface of the cushions. it’s gentle enough to not knock the air out of your lungs, but he does effectively steal your breath when he kisses you next. and as always, san has something of a method to kissing you when he’s a little bit high the way he is now. starts with a few soft presses of dry lips atop yours, then opening his mouth just enough to coax you into searching for more with your own tongue until you can lazily tangle your tongues together and pant into each other’s mouths with no real goal in mind. it’s always slow and sensual like this, where he seeks to taste every inch of you without moving too far away. when his weight settles on top of you, you welcome the heaviness as it’s almost grounding in a way to have him there, like he’ll keep you from floating away.

“he shouldn’t be long. said he’d show up whenever, but you know that usually means less than an hour.”

“sometimes even less than twenty minutes.”

“wanna eat you out,” san murmurs. his lips slide down the side of your jaw, stopping near your ear so he can bite at the cartilage there, and you hear a moan slip out unannounced.

“now?”

“now. need to. think i’m gonna die if i don’t.”

you snort at that and throw an arm out towards the coffee table.

“gimme that joint then.”

“thought you were gonna wait?”

“if you’re gonna tongue fuck me now, at least let me get the full experience,” you complain, a slight whine in your tone that has san caving, and he sits back on his heels to fetch the next blunt. you take it upon yourself to make his job a little easier and push your sweats down past your ass, hooking your underwear at the same time to dispose of them as quickly as you can. when they drop to the floor, san is back in your face, mouth full of smoke and lit joint in hand. you take what he offers with ease — a puff of smoke from his mouth to yours that’s completed by his lips slotting over yours in the mess that he’s made.

“gonna have to teach yeo that trick.” san passes off the neatly packed roll to your grasp, hands coming to rest on your knees as he moves further back on the couch. you watch him through a hooded gaze with the joint barely hanging on between your fingers, and if you drop it now, it’ll fall to the floor beside the couch without much excitement. “you ever miss him?”

“miss fucking him sometimes, yeah,” you answer, and it’s a wholly honest response to his question. “good lover, even better dick attached to him.”

san tips his head back as he laughs to the air above him. a shiver rolls through your body when his hands slide under your thighs and grip your ass, fingers digging into the flesh there until he’s got a good grip on you, then he yanks you forward to meet his face in the same movement. the sudden jolt has your head spinning a little, a pleasant dizziness that continues even when san reaches around to spread your folds with his index and middle fingers. the clarity returns with the first teasing lick of his tongue against your clit — a little flick and taunt that has your thighs pressing up around his head. he moans into your cunt, and the vibrations shoot through you like you’ve been shot.

a moan must escape you again, another that you don’t recall letting out, because san nuzzles his cheek into your inner thigh and giggles.

“feel good?”

“good, good, keep going.”

he will, for the most part, but you know him and you know his antics when it comes to oral meaning that he’s going to be relentless in all sorts of ways. it almost always starts out with edging though, and that’s a sensation that increases tenfold when you’re high, so you find yourself taking another hit from the joint in your hand in preparation for it.

smoke billows around your head and in front of your vision. you bring the hand that’s currently holding the joint up to trace mindless shapes through the cloud, and the other moves down on its own to tangle through san’s closely cropped black hair.

“your cock is pretty too,” you blurt out of nowhere, only to be broken off by a moan when san stabs at your hole with the tip of his tongue. he’s in no position to respond right now, and he doesn’t seem keen on pulling away from you to say anything either so you continue to ramble to the ceiling. “nice shoulders too. good for gripping while you’re fucking me. that’s why i like missionary with you, or cowgirl. just like holding onto your shoulders while you’re fucking me.” san’s tongue breaches you again, although this time he twists his head to the side as he pushes in, letting his wet muscle turn against your walls. your hips push up against his face on their own. “tongue is good. really good, so good.”

“mouthy kitten,” san says when he pulls back next. you find it in your hazy brain to look down between your legs at where he’s perched, and it’s a lewd sight to say the least with his smiling face just beyond the mound of your cunt and your legs so closely pressed around his head that his ears are touching your thighs. you match his grin with much less enthusiasm, although that’s only because you suddenly feel a need to fix his hair that’s a mess from how you were grabbing at it. san laughs under his breath as you do and returns to dragging his tongue over your slit. he takes his time with you, moves slow and gentle like he’s in no rush because he truly thinks there’s none even with yeosang on his way over, but you don’t make any request for him to go faster either. it feels good in the way a long soak in a warm bath feels good like warmth is slowly washing over you and making your body feel like and airy, and each press of san’s tongue into your pussy almost emulates that sensation of sliding under the water to let it fully hit you.

in a lot of ways, it feels nothing like being edged because there’s none of the usual frustration or annoyance at not being allowed to cum. you don’t want to cum yet; you want to feel this heady sensation forever, as long as san lets you, and having it end too soon would be miserable, you think.

“you’re being chatty again, doll,” san interrupts your train of thought, and you snap your chin down to look at him. your mouth opens to offer a response but yet again you find yourself being cruelly cut off. this time it’s not san to interject.

there’s a series of knocks on the door to san’s apartment instead.

“i don’t wanna put my pants back on,” you complain as san pulls out from between your legs to stand up. he motions for you to pass the joint, and you hand it off, still pouting up at him when he moves for the door.

“skip the underwear and just put your sweats on. always easy for me to get them off anyway.”

you push a sigh out of your body almost forcefully then throw yourself into a sitting position once more as quickly as you can. it’s a critical mistake because you forgo what happened earlier when you moved too quickly, and now you’re madly dizzy again, fumbling around for your pants and trying to separate them from your underwear before san opens the door.

“hi baby, you’re nice and early.”

“fuck, san! my pants!” you cry out. the words go in one ear and out the other and are partially pointless because he’s already opened the door and welcomed yeosang into his home.

“he’s seen you in a lot worse positions,” san responds, but he steps in front of yeosang’s line of sight for you anyway.

when you stand up straight — pants firmly attached to your body this time — you catch sight of yeosang for the first time tonight and frankly an embarrassing noise passes through your lips when you do. it’s somewhere between a greeting and a sudden exclamation because your fogged-up brain is processing his appearance with the haste of a snail. completely casual in terms of clothes with just a black tank top and very loose-fitting black pants that pool around his sandals, a plain jacket to top it all off, but he’s yeosang, and that means he looks good even in such a plain outfit.

“hi.”

“hi, y/n.”

“so you wanna get high with us, huh?” you try to smile as you speak but it mostly comes across as an awkward tilt of your head as one side of your lips goes up and the other stays still. yeosang chokes back a laugh and a grin, shrugging his jacket off as san closes the door behind him.

“that’s the goal, yeah.”

“among other things?” san inquires. he steps around the other man but his gaze remains very pointedly on the side of yeosang’s face even as he huffs out a cloud of opaque smoke. yeosang blinks over at you. frankly, you were down to fuck him the moment san mentioned him before you even got high, but now? now you’re considering it a lot more heavily and hoping internally that it’s something on his mind too. you weren’t kidding about the good lover, even better cock bit, and you aren’t too proud to admit that sometimes you find yourself thinking about it on nights where san isn’t available to satiate whatever needs you’re having.

“san. shotgun,” you request to distract yourself from thinking too hard about it. san acquiesces quickly and makes his way over to you with the joint already between his lips. he takes a long drag, one that’s longer than necessary and it barely lingers before he’s catching the back of your neck and tugging you into his body. he doesn’t kiss you though; this time it’s merely an act of him pushing your mouth open with his index finger then exhaling into the opening he’s created. you gasp it back just the same. he turns away just as quickly to look at yeosang once more, whose expression has become one of sheer wonder and unrestrained interest in what just transpired in front of him.

“yeo, you could’ve asked to smoke with us anytime. i mean, you knew we were both around last week. why didn’t you ask then?”

you place yourself on the edge of the couch cushions, hand moving for once of the bottles of water on the coffee table.

“you’ve known what our christmas eve traditions are for at least two years now,” san notes. it’s a good point, one that you didn’t even think of until just now, but the man is indeed fully aware of the tradition.

“well i… kinda wanted to — i figured it’s got to be something good if it’s a whole tradition? i’ve wanted to try it for a while, just never had the chance or couldn’t take the risk but now that i finally do have the chance—”

“you wanna get high and fuck?”

“…that’s why i asked today of all days,” yeosang finishes san’s thought with a nod, then he licks over his lips like he’s parched already. “but i don’t know how i’m gonna react to weed, and i didn’t wanna leave anyone high and dry so i figured if it lays me out then you two can continue with your tradition while i’m going through it.”

“we wouldn’t just leave you to fend for yourself,” san argues through a grunt. “cm’here.” he motions to the couch then leans over the coffee table pick up a fresh joint. yeosang pads over to the couch, sliding his shoes off somewhere near the table. you move the moment he sits down.

“if you react badly, we’d full stop and make sure you’re alright, yeo,” you add as you slot yourself into the space beside him. it’s close enough for your arms to touch but nothing more than that. “and if you go off to la la land and daze the fuck out, then we’re still gonna check up on you too.”

“but if you get mad horny like this one here—” san jerks a thumb in your direction, an action you protest immediately “—then we’ll help you out too.”

“i don’t want either of you to feel like you have to do anything, hold on.” yeosang’s hands come up between his body and san’s as the latter holds up a joint. “yeah, i kinda am really down for a threesome tonight, but i realize i’m springing this on you a bit out of the blue.”

“high or not, i still wanna fuck you,” san states without missing a beat. “and a stoned threesome sounds like a great christmas eve to me.” both men blink over to you, and you have to fish through the mess of your brain to come up with some reasonable response that’s not just ‘i like your cock, put it in me again’.

“i miss your dick,” is what comes out instead, which is no better than the things you were trying to avoid. your brain-to-mouth filter is clearly out of commission.

“see, baby? nothing to worry about here. and we discussed it before you came too if that makes you feel any better.”

yeosang swallows around nothing, and his throat bobs with the motion. the silence that follows seems to stretch on for hours. you’re about to daze out once more when he finally shifts and speaks again.

“okay, yeah, that makes me feel better. and i’m still very much down for this.”

“we’re gonna take it easy, okay? need to go nice and slow before anyone gets too excited.” san pushes the joint back towards yeosang, and this time he’s met with no opposition. it’s an oddly intimate sight — seeing san guide the tip to yeosang’s lips with one hand as the other moves around the back of the man’s head to hold him firmly in place. “don’t inhale too quickly or it’ll be really unpleasant. you’ll probably cough a bit on the first one too, so don’t be surprised if that happens.”

yeosang jolts a little when san flicks the lighter on at the end of the joint but settles just as quickly, lashes fluttering a hair as he takes the first hit. san pulls the joint from his lips before he can take too much, and just as suspected yeosang exhales smoke with a cough and squinted eyes.

“f-fuck, that burns.”

“you good?”

“yeah, jesus, that’s just — a weird feeling.”

san grins, showing off one of his pretty dimples, and nods a few times.

“yeah, it definitely takes some getting used to. we could try a different method if you’d rather?”

“what would — what would that be?” yeosang covers his mouth with the back of his hand as another cough moves through his system.

“you saw what we did earlier, yeah? that’s shotgunning, where one person inhales the smoke then exhales it into the other’s mouth. makes the burn a little easier to handle in my opinion.”

“alright, yeah, let’s try it.”

san passes off the joint to you with clear intent in the action, and you take it without question, holding it to your lips and taking a quick hit. san’s hand slips away from yeosang’s neck for you to replace it, and it’s with gentle urging that you bring yeosang’s face to yours. your lips press to his with no real sexual intent, only to push his mouth open with your tongue then exhale the puff of smoke into his mouth. you linger there to let it settle but once you start pulling away, yeosang chases you as though by instinct, and the smoke billows out between your faces. he catches himself in that moment and jerks back to rest against the couch, head propped against the back cushion.

“i’m gonna put some music on. you just sit there and let it do its magic.” san slips away from the living room to go into the kitchen, and it leaves you in this precious moment with yeosang, high still settled heavily over your brain. you move without much thought, curling your legs up on the couch and leaning enough into yeosang’s space to place your head atop his shoulder. he stiffens for only a second.

“i’ll give you another hit in a bit if the first one isn’t too bad,” you murmur. your gaze settles somewhere on the wall, and you don’t even think to listen for an answer from yeosang. there’s some thrum of bass in the background, a vibration that sends your nerve endings into a new dimension, then san is singing softly as he jostles around the kitchen doing god knows what. christmas songs, you think. maybe even hymns because san has an odd penchant for those when he’s high. whatever it is, you don’t really find yourself paying much attention to it. your hand finds home on yeosang’s arm, fingers loosely gripping his forearm and drumming mindlessly to the beat of the music.

“y/n, can i…?” yeosang’s voice filters in through the haze, and you sit up to glance over at him. he motions to his mouth. you take it as a hint he wants the joint, extending the item in his direction, but the only response you get is a shy shake of his head. “could you shotgun it again? please?”

you lick over your lower lip then sink your teeth into the flesh. a lazy grin takes over your lips then, even as you’re taking the next hit from the joint, and when you move in to slot your lips over yeosang’s again, he meets you halfway. his tongue finds yours before you have the opportunity to pry his mouth open. the kiss is sloppy, but yeosang’s tongue is a warm and wet weight on your own dry one, and it’s clear the focus is far more on the kissing than the hit.

yeosang is the one to guide it further, nudging you back on the couch into a position that’s strikingly similar to the one you shared with san earlier tonight. he sits back to admire the sight before him — you sprawled on your back with a flush to your skin, a heave to your chest, and a lidded gaze that twinkles a bit under the fairy lights around the room. his hands find purchase on your hips then slide upwards, taking your shirt up with them, and you feel a rush of delight as he shoves the material up past your chest. the issue of your bra being in the way isn’t much of a concern to him either, apparently, based on the way he shifts your body around enough to slip it off to join your underwear that’s been hanging out all lonely on the floor for quite a while now. it’s a bit awkward, admittedly, trying to get the clothing out of the way without letting go of the joint and without moving too much, but the fit of giggles leaving both your lips and yeosang’s dispels that awkwardness with ease.

“sannie,” yeosang calls out over his shoulder. the singing in the kitchen halts with a muted ‘hm?’, then yeosang is beckoning the other over to join the fray on the couch. “should’ve put on some jazz or something.”

“mm, want me to fuck you with some sweet sexy saxophone in the background? classy, baby,” san teases through his teeth, tongue poking out to add to the taunt, but yeosang pays him no mind as he reaches up to catch san’s face between his hands. you’d focus on the visual of it all — your ex-lover, current friend making out with your current flame slash friend — but there’s something bigger pressing into the inside of your thigh through those damn loose pants, and you hear a noise of disbelief leave your mouth before anything else.

“you still walk around free dicking like this?” you ask, tone whiny and high-pitched like you’re about to beg to have that dick in any one of your orifices because you are. and you aren’t ashamed to admit that when it’s at full attention staring you down through those fucking pants that you need off now. yeosang pulls off san’s mouth with a lewd string of saliva connecting their lips, then san is moving to grab another item off the table as yeosang settles for shedding you of your pants rather than the other way around.

“yeo, can i eat you out? swear to god i’ll die if i don’t…” you almost have it in you to roll your eyes at san’s comment, but yeosang is pressing his face between your tits and reaching up to palm them so you spare san that fate. another thing that hasn’t seemed to change in the time you’ve been apart — yeosang was always endlessly enamored with your chest. he mumbles something that sounds like a string of affirmations back to san before latching his lips around one of your nipples, rolling the other between his fingers in a way that has you pushing up into his face. your senses are fully focused on that sensation, but when there’s some shifting and then a heavy weight of dick hitting your leg, you’re more than aware of it. you can’t see much of anything past yeosang’s head, except for san squirting what has to be lube into his palm before his head dips below curve of yeosang’s ass and leaves you with just a view of his hair. if you could, you’d shrug because you can’t find it in you to pay attention to more than one thing at once right now.

for now, it’s just yeosang’s touches and the subtle vibrations of his moans against your body as san does what he does best at the other end of the couch.

“f-fuck, san, san, fingers, now,” yeosang pants out. you think he needs another hit and press what’s left of your joint to your lips. it’s a quick exchange of gestures that are accentuated by yeosang’s strained expression and whines, but he accepts the offer and pushes up to moan into your mouth as you pass the smoke to him.

“miss your cock,” you press into his lips like it’ll do any good. “miss your body, miss your touches.” the weed talking for sure because whenever you’re wholly sober you’re entirely satiated with the man who is currently giving yeosang the rimjob of an absolute lifetime. it’s what yeosang wants to hear though, clearly, considering how he pinches your nipple harder and rakes his teeth down the column of your throat hard enough to leave marks. the drag is wet and almost slobbery, something that should be repulsive, but you whine and press your legs harder around yeosang’s hips. “could cum on my face. used to love that.”

“gonna cum all over your cunt instead,” yeosang responds after a beat of delay, a clear effect of weed. “fuck, san’s gonna make me cum untouched like this.” then there’s a cry tumbling from yeosang’s lips, and san follows that up with a quick verbal jab in the form of ‘found it’. the man above you trembles, head falling forward to rest against your chest as san continues his ministrations. somehow, even though you aren’t the one being touched, you feel the heady thrill of it, a floating pleasure that surges through your body as yeosang cums with another cry. and true to his word, warmth spreads over your exposed cunt, strips of cum spilling down between your folds without any help.

san doesn’t seem to be one for mercy today — not from how he edged you earlier, and not from how he continues to push his fingers into yeosang even though the man just came. his other hand fumbles between your messy folds and yeosang’s cock. given how yeosang jolts, it’s obvious that san has just taken his cock into his palm and is aiming to milk yeosang for all he’s worth.

“good job, darling, keep it up.” san’s voice rises over the din of moans and music.

“used to like me like this best, didn’t you?” you murmur to the man over you, hands cradling his face as the broken moans continue to leave him. he looks to be on the verge of absolute tears, but it’s honestly a pretty sight made even prettier because of the lights twinkling around the room. yeosang releases a string of expletives, nodding at nothing as teeth sink into his lower lip hard enough to break skin. one thought pushes through the wading mess of others: you want to suck him off. now. dick in mouth, his was always so heavy on your tongue in the best way, especially when he deigned to fuck your face like it was just some other hole and damn. you need it again.

just your luck, san seems to be done torturing yeosang with his little overstimulation stint, and you reach down to tap the side of yeosang’s thigh.

“let’s swap.” simple, but effective, and it has yeosang helping you up to a sitting position then slipping into the space you’ve just provided. you kinda want to light another joint, but san is taking the nub of your current one from your hand and setting it on the plate with the others. when you look forward once more, yeosang’s cock is on display before you, set right in front of your face all pretty and half-hard, cum streaking his length where san milked him dry and you figure if anything, you can wrench a damn good dry orgasm out of him. it’s really all an excuse to have his dick in your mouth anyway. “sannie,” you call out, and the man’s response comes in the form of a soft hand on your ass. seems the two of you are on the same page then.

when san pushes his length into you, it’s a smooth glide, and the arousal behind it only heightens when you remember the mess of cum yeosang left over your hole that san surely used as pseudo-lube to fuck you.

another thing to file away in your memory for when you’re sober: san fucking yeosang’s cum into you. good.

what is also good in this moment is yeosang’s cock, and you finally get your mouth on it when san bottoms out inside you, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. being high makes it so much better, you think, because it convinces you to take your time with him, gently sucking the tip of his cock into your mouth and letting your tongue roll around the head to taste the cum already there. salty and familiar, kinda a drug to your already weed-addled brain. you let your jaw go slack and drop down further on yeosang’s length.

you thought just fucking san alone while high was the best feeling you could ever experience, but clearly, that version of you needed to have this instead. maybe you’ll never go back again and make a new tradition here and now, but that’s getting too into particulars — is it even alright to do such a thing? yeosang is clearly not seeing anyone, but what if he’d rather stick to guys for the time being, you certainly don’t fit the bill, he didn’t even ask to fuck you in fact. but—

the overthinking is quite literally fucked right out of your brain as yeosang’s hips rock up into your mouth and send his cock careening into your throat and oh, that’s it, that’s the hit you were after. it continues like that as you moan around his length, an encouragement for him to continue and keep doing exactly what he just did, and yeosang complies so sweetly you could cry for him. he used to like that to.

yeosang is moaning, san is rambling as he fucks into you from behind, and you’re making god knows what noises with yeosang’s dick being fucked so far down your throat you might feel it in your esophagus come tomorrow morning, but the lightness in your body is so intoxicating that you can’t find it in you to care all too much.

san’s fingers slide up your back and rest on the back of your neck. he rests the heel of his hand at the base of your skull then threads those same fingers into your hair with nails dragging over your scalp. you have all of two seconds to prepare for the choking sensation that comes next as yeosang fully buries his cock into your wet heat. the cum that spills down your throat is hot and burns a path down to your stomach. when san tugs your head off of yeosang, the man is still in the midst of cumming and it only adds to the filthy plethora of saliva running out the corners of your mouth. you moan something inaudible, a plea and a desperate one at that, and san understands the language you’re speaking as he always does because the rocks of his hips become more pointed as he targets that sweet spot inside you. you grip yeosang’s thighs tight and press your cheek to the skin of his hip as an orgasm tumbles through your system with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. you might blackout then too with san burying himself fully inside you to paint your inner walls white with his semen.

“what time is it?” you ask to no one in particular. your voice is a croaking mess.

“two minutes past midnight, sweetheart,” san answers, hands roaming your body and massaging whatever skin he can reach. you smile against yeosang’s thigh and reach up to his arm. he catches your hand in his, and your fingers slot together like it’s something that never changed for you. with a light squeeze, you press a kiss to the skin under your lips.

“merry christmas.”

a/n: hi. this is very new and experimental for me but i wanted to try something new and push myself as a writer so. here we are. pls leave a like/reblog/send an ask/drop a reply, let me know what you think n if u enjoyed!

#san smut #yeosang smut #ateez smut #san x reader #yeosang x reader #ateez x reader #san imagines #san drabbles #yeosang imagines #yeosang drabbles #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez drabble #ateez drabbles #ateez ff #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #caly.writes #12daysofchristmas.collab

[sukirichi]

Hello! Can you write one about Nanami where the reader is oblivious and they're really close to Gojo so he gets jealous often. Sometimes Gojo does things purposely to annoy him and one day he just lost his composure and accidentally admitted his feelings for you.

I hope u accept if you're not too busy. Thank you!!!

— a little push

— sometimes all nanami needs is a little push.

nanami kento x fem! reader

thank you for the request anon! i’m not sure if reader is oblivious enough but i hope you like it! there’s some thick pining here hur hur, i hope you like it! i never knew i needed an easily flustered and awkward nanami in my life also this is unedited as usual

check my bio for masterlist and my milestone event! (◕ᴗ◕✿)

“Do you mind?”

Nanami sighs, silently praying to the heavens you wouldn’t hear the way his heart is absolutely panicking and beating wildly right now. You’d randomly pushed him inside the teachers’ office the moment he got back to the institute at work, and now he’s doomed to hide his feelings while you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes, a shaky yet excited grin painted on your face.

“Sorry, sorry,” you wave your hands in front of you, although he can tell you’re not apologetic at all. Nanami clears his throat when you step backwards to give him space, unsure if he’s happy or sad about the distance. “I was just really excited to see you back.”

Your carefree, lighthearted voice, along with that little jump in your toes combined with your statement – you’re basically asking Nanami to shrivel up already.

The stoic man remains composed, though, only shifting to adjust his tie while he stares down at you. You’re still somewhat bouncing on your feet, teeth biting your lip – a habit you had when you want to say something but contemplating whether you should. Tilting away to hide the slight flush in his cheeks, Nanami sighs again, pretending to be tired.

The last thing he wants to admit that even though he is exhausted from work, is that you’d never bother him. In fact, having you bombard him like this makes him feel like he didn’t deal with special grade curse by himself all alone just an hour ago.

“If there’s something you want to say, I suggest you get it over with. I don’t want to stay overtime and wait until the blindfolded creep comes around.”

You giggle at his insult, hiding behind your cupped palms. Crap, Nanami looks away and focuses on the birds outside instead, suddenly finding them so interesting despite never paying attention to them before. Maybe that was the curse of crushes – it had people acting differently and in complete contrast with their behavior.

“About that,” you begin almost shyly now, and Nanami practically bursts when he sees you tapping both of your pointer fingers together, gaze tilted away from him.

It makes him wonder you’re nearly on the same skill to Gojo, yet still somehow look like a small, innocent being that makes him want to protect you from everything – even if you were more than capable of handling things yourself. Well, Nanami concludes to himself, maybe you’re really just that paradoxical that it makes sense why he can never think straight around you. Maybe he’s really not supposed to understand the complexity of his feelings when you were a phenomena to begin with already.

“You see…Satoru asked me out.”

Nanami stiffens at your statement for a split second before his head whips to you so fast. You’re observant – of course you are, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer – and you easily pick up in his sudden change of demeanor. Your brow raises at his abrupt reaction, to which Nanami conceals by flexing his neck and rolling his shoulders back.

“I am simply tired from work,” he haf-lies, “So, Satoru asked you out? Will you say yes?”

His words and tone are monotonous, almost bored even, but deep inside he’s so close to beating the crap out of his co-worker. Well, not really, Nanami isn’t a man of violence, but he’s jealous. Of course he is – he’s liked you ever since Principal Yaga hired you.

He’s never told Satoru about his little crush on you. He would be stupid to do such; Satoru would tease him to no end and maybe even be as childish to go as far as pushing him to you. Typical elementary shit, Nanami cringes to himself, watching as you look down at your feet with a pout. Now that confused him. He isn’t sure what your body language means at all, but patient as ever, Nanami only waits.

“Well,” you scratch your forehead, “I’m really flattered. I want to say yes because Satoru is a nice guy—”

“He is not. I do not respect him.”

You roll your eyes at the way his eyes darkens, “—but also I’m not sure if I should. I mean, Satoru doesn’t really date, you know? He’ll be with like one girl and be with another the next week. I just don’t want to…like, fall for that, I guess. Not that I won’t, because he’s totally not my type—”

“It’s just a yes or no,” Nanami cuts you off, his words coming out a lot harsher than he intends it to be. It’s not that he’s annoyed at your rambling, he actually finds it so adorable when you get so lost in your train of thoughts that your mind just travels from one place to another, and seeing how your eyes just leave farther from reality is something he’s always find such an attractive quirk, but not now – not when his infuriating co-worker is intending to mess with your feelings. “Do you want to go or not? Yes or no? It’s as simple as that.”

You blink back at him in surprise, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that Nanami was a no-bullshit man who hit things right on the head, a huge contrast to your happy-go-lucky self, but he’s right.

It is that simple – and you’re complicating things all over again.

When you give him an answer, Nanami has to muster all his energy to not deflate. He’s tired – but now his exhaustion and even the heartbreak comes crashing down all over him that he’s immediately weighed down and overwhelmed – so much so that all he wants is to go home.

“Yes, I want to go.”

It’s his day off.

Like everything else in his life, Nanami plans everything down to the last minute of his day. His day off consisted of him having the privilege to sleep in until 8am, then breakfast with coffee from that great café a five minute walk away from his apartment, then he’ll be reading books in his study for two hours. Comes after that is lunch, and he’ll brows through some TV shows, pick up his clothes from the dry cleaning, get that special limited edition dinner of his favorite sushi, read books again and call it a day.

Simple, peaceful, no hassle – it’s the perfect day to relax.

Except it isn’t.

Because it’s your day off too, and you’re out on a date with Satoru. He still remembers how happy you looked then upon accepting the white haired man’s invitation, your nimble fingers wrapped around his sleeve as you shyly asked him to come with you.

He doesn’t know why you had to bring him, but he doesn’t question it, nonetheless. Nanami wants to see how Satoru would react, if there could be any indication from the man behind his blindfold that he had ill intentions. Oddly enough, there didn’t seem to be any. Satoru only beamed and deflated into a chibi, enthusiastically nodding along with you while you planned your date together.

Nanami took it upon himself to leave.

With a silent scoff, Nanami placed his dinner down on the counter. Because it’s his day off – and mostly because he doesn’t feel like himself – Nanami went out to buy the limited edition sushi wearing a white shirt and some gray sweatpants, too forlorn and a little jealous to even bother dressing up.

It’s stupid, really. He’s been looking forward for this sushi for a long, long time, but now that he’s had it, he can’t even enjoy the taste. His mind keeps going back to you.

Were you having fun with Satoru? Were you enjoying your time? Was Satoru treating you well? What was Satoru’s intentions when it came with you? The last time Nanami checked, you and him got along really well and you’re mostly the one who whacks the taller man in the head upside down when he’s being stupid, almost like two peas in a pod, except you were the smarter one. He’d been so sure you’re nothing but friends and yet…it all lead to this.

Nanami pushes his sushi away. They no longer taste like anything, the texture like dried paper on his mouth. He wipes his lips with a napkin, staring longingly at well…nothing. His walls were plain and empty, and suddenly, Nanami can’t help but compare himself to Gojo.

You both planned to go to the local carnival. There’d be lots of foods and even parlor shops, ferris wheel rides and photo booths to create memories. Of course you and Satoru would go there; both of you enjoyed loud, bustling crowds, claiming there was something amazing about basking in the “lives of humans when ignorant of curses” while Nanami prefers his peace and silence.

Had you gone out on a date with him instead, Nanami can’t guarantee he’ll be any fun. He most definitely wouldn’t ask you to go to a carnival with him either. It was loud, cramped, crowded, and it’s too chaotic for him to ever enjoy your presence and enjoy it alone.

Nanami closes the sushi box, turns on the TV and lets is play on the background, a wet towel above his eyes to relax his tired eyes.

He hopes you’re having fun. He hopes Satoru is treating you well. Nanami just ignores the slight pain in his chest when he thinks of you, laughing and touching anyone but him, and he could picture it already. You’ve always been so open and welcoming to everyone, he knows you’ll have fun today, too.

That’s one of the things he finds most endearing about you – that your smile never fades and you never forget about the simple, little things in life to focus on to keep your sanity after facing curse after curse.

He’s fine, he tells himself. Satoru may be annoying, but he knows you could have fun with him, and you deserved to be happy more than anyone else.

Nanami is about to fall asleep on his couch when his phone vibrates on the coffee tables. Groaning, he flicks off the towel to his shoulders, grumbling about how Principal Yaga better be respecting his day off, but the last thing he expects to see is your contact name flashing on the screen. In the contact photo, you’re winking with a peace sign held above your head.

You look so utterly adorable Nanami just wants to kiss you. He remembers this photo was taken when Yuuji got bored and asked to play games on his phone. Upon finding that there was none – of course there was none – the strawberry-haired student opted for taking pictures of everyone instead. There’s one with Nobara growling, Megumi sipping his boba-tea with dead eyes as if he’s so done with the world, more than twenty pictures of Satoru flexing his muscles and posing like an idiot, and then there’s yours.

Nanami remembers staring at his phone for a solid minute, his gallery actually blessed with your face in it. The sun shines behind you on that photo and you’re absolutely shining. He thinks that’s when he truly fell in love.

And it just so happened the love of his life is calling, making his heart skip a beat because shouldn’t you be with Gojo? Why were you calling him? Did something wrong happen?

Nanami doesn’t waste another second before swiping the green icon, already standing up from the couch as he grabs his jacket. He had this weird inkling something is wrong, why else would you call him?

His theories are proven true when your voice comes out shaky. “H-hello?”

“Good evening,” he greets stiffly, brows furrowed as he listens in on the way you seem to be shuffling around. “Is there something wrong?”

“I, uhm,” he hears you sniffle through the other line, “Yeah, I guess there is…Satoru just texted he can’t come because Principal Yaga suddenly sent him to a mission overseas…and then I just realized that Satoru’s been summoned by the elders and he’s just refusing to show up, so now they cornered him, I guess… anyways, I’m talking too much and I don’t want to be a bother, but would you maybe…like to hang out with me?”

Nanami’s hand freezes on the doorknob. “Hang out…professionally?”

He immediately wants to smack himself in the forehead for that. Out of all things he could’ve said, he just had to utter something unintelligent. He hears you snicker in the background and Nanami’s ears redden. 

He quickly regains his composure with a clear of his throat, suddenly remembering that Satoru’s ditched you, so now you’re asking him instead. It kind of feels like he’s just a replacement, but Nanami buries this feeling down before it consumes him, wondering if he’s already regretting changing into better clothes because he actually agreed to go to a carnival with you.

Upon hearing your happy, “Okay! I’ll wait for you then!”, Nanami realizes that he doesn’t actually mind. Especially not with you.

The carnival is loud.

Nanami dreads the moment he steps out of his car, his body swallowed by the bustling crowd and defeaning music of banging drums and clashing instruments. There’s a hundred scents everywhere – smoke, fish, glazed apples – he doesn’t know where to begin or how to focus.

He nearly turns back to his hair, about to shoot you a text that maybe this is beyond him after all. His head begins to spin when he’s only pushed deeper into the crowd, people bumping into him with every single second and it’s so suffocating. It doesn’t make sense to him how anyone could possibly go on a date like this and enjoy it. He knows for sure this chaos won’t let him enjoy his date’s presence because he’s too busy trying to get away from it all.

Nanami staggers for a bit when a strong hand tugs him to the side. Soon, he finds himself pressed flush against you in a tight corner, your hips warm on his. “Hi,” you breathe out airily, lashes fanning and fluttering in that same manner that always made his heart do complete flips.

“Hello,” he greets back with a small bow out of faux respect, but really, he’s just keeping his head down because you look so beautiful in that moment he doesn’t even know where to look. You’re warm and soft next to his hard and stiff muscles, the scent of roses and vanilla mixing in with the street smoke and Nanami’s head grows dizzy, his hand around yours tightening for comfort. “Y/N…I do not prefer this crowd. Can I take you back home instead? You must be tired – I’ll prepare dinner for you.”

Nanami blinks back in surprise when he sees you nod, a slight grimace on your face, and you practically bury your face in his bicep as you groan, “It’s too noisy for me too. Let’s just hang out at your place.”

So you end up in his immaculately clean apartment, admiring and staring at the boring furniture. Nanami changes into more comfortable clothes and whips out something to cook, not wanting to feed you measly take out when you’re probably famished. He watches with side glances as you pick up a photo of him with his parents when he was younger, cooing and giggling at the baby version of him.

“Nanamin, you’re so cute!”

Nanami scoffs and turns back to the heated water in the bowl, arms hard as they cross against his chest covered with an apron. “Please do not call me cute. I am anything but.”

“No, you’re really cute,” you insist, but after seeing Nanami’s flustered frown, you eventually give up and give the poor man a break. Later, you wobble next to him, watching with curious eyes and a small smile as he adds the vegetables into the soup, moving expertly as he diced up the onions to the side. The sheer focus and attention on his daily tasks makes him falter, and he suddenly finds it so hard to function now.

“Why are you staring at me? Is there something so interesting about slicing up onions?”

“No, not really,” you say absentmindedly, the slight plop of the ingredients echoing. “It’s just – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this way. Domestic, I mean, but it looks good on you,” you nod to yourself, and Nanami finds himself struggling to act as if your presence wasn’t making him go crazy while he proceeds to cook. “In fact, everything looks good on you, and I find you really interesting!”

“Y-you do?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, assisting him silently with mixing the bowl even when he didn’t ask you to. Unaware that he’s now focused on you, watching you cook with him with you pressed up against his side, almost as if it’s right where you belong, Nanami feels the same with you. You also look good being this domestic with him, and he suddenly blurts out, “Would you like to stay with me? Like this?”

Your eyes slide over his in a slow fashion, slow enough that his brain hotwires at the fear maybe he’s said something wrong. But Nanami immediately swallows it down, huffing and turning away from you with that stoic expression again. “Forgive me. That was weird—”

“Why would it be weird?” you laughed to yourself before bumping your hips with his, “You’re the one who invited me here. Of course I want to stay.”

That’s…that’s not what he means.

Nanami is left staring openly at you while you help him set the table and you proceed to talk about how you didn’t really want to go to the carnival but Satoru insisted you’d have fun, so you went anyway even if you’d much prefer to be somewhere else. He’s barely listening, too distracted by the way your lips move and how you swing the house slippers on your big toe, your legs crossed on top of another and your figure slightly hunched across from him.

You look so comfortable and welcomed in his home that it puts him at ease too, not worried that he has to impress you anything because it’s you, and Nanami could actually be vulnerable enough to laugh with you over a bowl of vegetable soup.

It’s fine, he lies to himself again, it’s fine that you don’t know he likes you even if he tends to slip and be obvious sometimes. Because at least you’re with him in that moment, and he lies to himself again that it’s fine, that maybe next time he’ll tell you, but he doesn’t worry about. How could he worry about it when you’re snorting so loud over a lame joke he said that rice nearly came out your nose, and he’s so drunk over the sound of your bubbly laughter that something flutters deep within his belly?

When you help him wash the dishes and bask in the silence instead, comfortable over the lack of words and nothing but the sound of his faucet running and the slight rubbing of towels against dishes heard in the background, Nanami is unsure whether he’s glad that Satoru ditched you on your first date.

It doesn’t stop there.

Nanami only keeps falling in love with you more. He’s been doing a good job of keeping his feelings to himself because the last thing he wants is to have you stay away from him, but Satoru was really getting on his nerves.

He’s just come back from exorcising a curse when he sees you and Satoru play-wrestling in the field with the other students. Megumi is grumbling to himself in the corner, Yuuji is laughing and cheering on you to tackle down his sensei who’s currently going down in high-pitched laughter, Toge pumping his fists and screaming, “Salmon, salmon!”

It’s a chaotic sight – one that he usually doesn’t mind – until you finally pin Satoru down on the ground, your ass above his crotch. Satoru’s hands then come up to squeeze your ass and hips under the false pretense he’s struggling to push you off him, but Nanami knows better.

“Give up already!” you tease the other sorcerer who’s still wriggling underneath you, and Nanami sees it before it happens.

Satoru’s legs bend beneath you and he tries to pin you under him in quick movements, but Nanami is faster, his reflexes taking over. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Nanami tugs you and pulls you forward until you collide on his chest. He’s breathing hard, eyes narrowed at the arrogant smirk painted on Satoru’s features. Meanwhile, you’ve softened in Nanami’s grip, hands fisting his shirt that has him hardening up out of sheer protectiveness.

“Oh, Nanamin!” Satoru beams while wiping the dirt on his hands across his uniform, “Glad to see you here. You wanna join training too?”

“This is hardly training,” he retorts with a clenched jaw, “You’re harassing and disrespecting your fellow sorcerer because you can never keep your dirty hands to yourself,” before Satoru could defend himself, he’s already all over you, his hand tilting your chin side to side to check for any injuries. “Are you hurt anywhere? Did this bastard do anything else?”

“No, not really—”

“Why do you care so much, Nanamin?” Satoru teases, and the students all huddle to watch the commotion. Everyone can feel the tension rising, and Nanami only stiffens up further when he feels you lean closer to his warmth almost absentmindedly. “She and I were just playing around, no hard feelings, no foul play. We’re just having fun, right, Y/N?”

“She is not someone you can just have fun with, Satoru. You’ve already crossed the line when you ditched her on your first date, and you didn’t even bother texting or calling back when I drove her home. It’s disrespectful, and she deserves better than that.”

“Nanami—”

“I was busy,” Satoru sighs dramatically, “And if she deserves better than me, then who would it be? I can take care her of her, you know, she and I have been besties for like what, a year now? I’ll be good to her,” he smirks, and Nanami wants nothing more than to punch him square in the jaw. “Besides, it’s not like she’s dating anyone else. She’s single and ready to mingle—”

“Maybe she is, but I’m not,” Nanami deadpans, his harsh tone shocking everyone.

“Wh-what do you mean?” you squeak under him, and Nanami falls silent. He’s never thought of confessing to you, especially not this way, and Nobara is biting Yuuji’s jacket behind them to muffle her squeals. Panda is clapping his hands and whispers oh, here we go, followed by Toge’s salmon salmon.

It dawns on him now that everyone knows he likes you after all, and now that he’s confronted with the situation, he can’t run away from it. Not that Nanami plans on running away, for he is a man and his pride doesn’t allow him to evade situations like this.

He just wishes it could’ve gone out better.

“Forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable,” Nanami releases his grip on you, loosening his tie that makes him feel like he’s choking both on air and his words. Through his cool stature, he’s actually sweating inside his clothes, and it doesn’t help you’re patient with him too, head tilted to the side curiously and so horribly cutely he might combust. “But I have always been, and I still am, utterly in love with you.”

Nobara and Yuuji no longer hold back as they scream to themselves, the former slapping the latter in his back while Megumi only shakes his head, muttering “about time,” under his breath. Maki snickers to herself and Satoru is stunned, but it’s nothing compared to the way you shrink under his gaze for a moment.

He believes you’re going to run away from him because of his blatant confession; it wasn’t romantic at all, and the kids are still screaming too loudly for him to form coherent thoughts.

Nanami begins to form a deep bow, ready to apologize wholeheartedly and to politely ask you to forget this if you wish – he would respect your decision. But just as his gaze met the ground, he’s thrown off balance as you jump on him, soft glossy lips crashing into his.

The screams and cheers of everyone are suddenly drowned out when he feels your lips molding onto his, and he can feel you smiling happily, giggling while his hands tentatively run down your hips to hold you close. It’s unprofessional, displeasing, and downright horrendous to be kissing someone during work hours while the students are watching, especially because his clothes are crumpled from your eager touch and you’re on top of his chest, but Nanami absolutely doesn’t give a single fuck because he’s kissing you back fervently.

It’s what he’s always wanted – you’re the one he’s always wanted, and now that he has you in his hold, he’s not easily letting you go.

“See? I told you guys,” Satoru proudly puffs his chest up in the background, “All Nanamin needs is a little push.”

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[aminiatureworld]

Affection II

Characters: Childe, Ganyu, Kaeya, gn!reader

Word Count: 5,577

Warnings: None

Premise: Sometime we know something is impossible from the start. But still we walk towards it, even if we know it will hurt us. It’s only flirting, only a smile or a hug or some food. Even if nothing comes of it, there is nothing to regret. Even if it hurts.

In which the reader gives affection, expecting nothing in return.

Author’s Note: Evidently I’ve really missed writing these properly. I had such a great time writing, and I hope you guys enjoy these just as much as I did.

Also I’ve decided the version on Ao3 will now always be without bullet points, so if you prefer that format the link will be in the reblog.

Childe

You’d been floored by Childe pretty much since the day you two had met.

What had turned into the two of you meeting had started out a most unfavorable encounter. You’d gone to Lingju Pass, trying to survey some of the carvings of the old structure, and attempting to see the sort of methods used to construct such vast rocky complexes at the time. Unfortunately this goal had quickly turned into a goal of “don’t get caught”, as you’d found the Pass crawling with Fatui members. Though you weren’t nearly helpless, you’d also not come prepared for battle; and had spent most of the “fight” dodging around various blows while trying not to drop the expensive equipment that you’d borrowed from other Guild members.

Just as you’d come to the conclusion that the options were either drop everything and run or get thoroughly injured by a bunch of arrogant Snezhnayan soldiers there was a change in the air. The Fatui soldiers’ expression turned from one of glee to one of confusion, and then one of panic, as one by one a streak of blue began to throw them this way and that. As you regained focus of the terrain your realized that it wasn’t a streak at all but a person, a person who was wildly adept at sword play. Eventually the number of unconscious people had risen to five, and there was no one left but him and you.

“Need any help?”

The words might’ve been kind, had it not been for the smirk on the man’s face. Though you felt that the right answers would’ve probably been to scowl, you found you couldn’t, too wrapped up in the memory of this mysterious person darting this way and that, handling his water-made daggers with the grace of a ballet dancer.

“I’m Childe.” These words finally brought you back to the present.

“You’re a member of the Fatui.”

“I am.”

“Then why did you knock those guys out just now?”

“Boredom.”

You stared at Childe incredulously. Of course you’d heard his name, the man who, it was whispered, almost pulled Liyue into the sea. You’d formed a sort of mental picture of him completely divorced from the redhead now standing in front of you, bouncing slightly on his feet as he smiled cockily. He looked more like a rogue adventurer than one of the heads of a crime syndicate. Maybe that was why you found yourself infatuated, rather than afraid.

This infatuation only grew, fed by the encounters that you had with Childe. It seemed now you couldn’t avoid him, not that you wanted to. What had begun as a chance encounter multiplied into two, into four; soon enough you two had struck up a sort of friendship, one that baffled everyone else around you.

Of course you hadn’t lost all your sense, knowing quite well that the puppy love you were feeling could never be anything more. The way Childe talked about his work, about his duty to the Tsaritsa, made it very clear that he wouldn’t let a partner in his life or in his loyalties. And even if he changed his mind, why would he choose you? You were an adventurer sure, but you hadn’t even been able to properly defend yourself the first time the two of you met, and your oversight of that would’ve surely turned Childe away. Besides, Childe could probably make a partner out of anyone he wanted, if they were foolish enough. Why should that person be you?

Perhaps it was that knowledge that allowed you to be so free in your affection, spurred on by Childe’s own open nature. Hand holding, hugging, leaning one’s head on the other’s shoulder, it was the language of friendship that you two had adopted, and something that you greatly appreciated. There was something nice about a friendship in which one could be so open about caring about someone, without expecting things to go farther. Because you didn’t, you really didn’t. And though that might’ve been a bit painful, it was a small price to pay for Childe’s company.

“I’m going off to Mondstadt for a bit.”

“What?”

You drew away from Childe a bit to look into his face. The two of you were walking along the path towards Yaoguang Shoal, as Childe had taken a particular liking to the Starconches that lined its shores. Now he smiled awkwardly, squeezing your hand and shrugging his shoulders.

“I know, I know. There’s apparently this branch of the Fatui holed up there right now, and I’ve been asked to consult about something, though archons know what it is.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’m not sure, I think about two weeks? I’m not sure what exactly is going on, but the troops really must be in disarray if they need me skulking around for the next two weeks.” He let out a awkward laugh.

“I’ll miss you.” You replied, bumping your head into his shoulder and frowning. “It’s very boring without you.”

“I’m sure you’ll be perfectly capable without me.” Childe smiled, one eyebrow raised slightly. “After all, what would you do if I left someday, permanently. You’d have to find a way without me.”

“Let’s not talk about that.” You replied hurriedly, switching the conversation towards something more pleasant. Unfortunately however the words had already been said, and the damage had already been done.

It had been two weeks since Childe had left for Mondstadt, and though normally you might’ve been waiting at the city gates for his return, you found yourself on the familiar road towards Lingju. Childe’s words had been ringing in your ears for the past two weeks, and you’d found the more time passed the more you kept thinking about them.

What would you do if I left someday, permanently. Is that what Childe truly wanted? To leave? The idea made your stomach hurt, as you began once more to run all your interactions through your head, as if trying to find a flaw in the strips of memory you had of Childe. Was that what Childe truly wanted, or was it simply that he was sick of you? When he’d said “you’d have to find a way without me” did that mean he wanted to find a way without you? Perhaps you’d been too forward, too demanding. Perhaps he’d managed to realize your feelings and felt repelled by them. Had it been too much, meeting him almost everyday for some periods of time, eating lunch together and sometimes dinner. What about that time you’d invited him over to your house to play a game? Had that been too much?

You sighed, dragging yourself over the final ridge. Sitting down to take a rest you closed you eyes. You hated that your mind wandered this way, that no matter what you couldn’t help but ask yourself again and again, what had you done. What would Childe think about this sad person laying on the ground, the sad part was you couldn’t answer that question.

The sound of footsteps brought you back to the present, and you let out a suppressed groan at the figures in your line of sight.

“Don’t you guys ever get posted anywhere else?” You rolled your eyes, reaching behind your back to summon your polearm.

“You’re trespassing.” The voice that came out of the Electro Vanguard was so deep and distorted as to be hilarious.

“Lastly I checked you were neither a citizen of Liyue, nor Rex Lapis, so if anyone’s “trespassing” on public territory it’s you.” You sighed. “Oh well. Unfortunately you caught me on a day where I’m somewhat prepared.” With that you lunged towards the Hydro Legionnaire and the fight began.

Fighting when one is already frustrated is both a blessing and a curse. The fight itself was almost invigorating, the first Fatui hit the ground and with it you felt part of your worries fade away, if only for the small window of time which this fight offered. Was this why Childe fought so much? The though crossed your mind as you whirled behind the Pyro Bracer and pressed as much Electro as you dared into the back of his head, tripping him with the staff of your polearm on his way down.

Soon enough there was only you and the Electro Vanguard left. Unfortunately you were beginning to feel the other side affect of anger, that being misfocus. Being more versed in using your polearm as a sort of lightning rod your found the Vanguard much harder to deal with, more than once barely diving out of the way of the hammer he was swinging around, surprisingly light on his feet considering what the weight must be. Your anger was quickly draining, turning into something more akin to panic, and as you found yourself stumbling more and more you realized that today was really, really not your day.

The Vanguard was becoming aware of how fast you were tiring, a gravelly sort of laugh emerging from behind his mask. As you found your with you back to the slope you wondered if it was just worth it to make an escape. The Fatui swung his hammer once more, barreling towards you. Having nothing left to do you put your polearm out in front of you, hoping that your arms were strong enough not to recoil against the inevitable blow. Closing your eyes you thought of nothing, drowning in a sea of panic. If there was any coherent part of your brain it wished that you weren’t here, that you just stayed home, or swallowed you pride and gone to the gate. But it was too late now, and you were about to get hit.

However the blow never landed, instead a loud sound pierced the air. Whipping your arms open you saw the Electro Vanguard stumble, his hammer having been dropped on the ground. He was grasping towards his ankle, in which was stuck an arrow, glowing a faint aquamarine. Swearing the Fatui member glanced around, before stumbling away, dragging his weapon and his left leg behind him like dead weight.

“Some things never change, huh?”

“Childe!” You whirled towards your once again savior, face burning from embarrassment. “I took out the rest of them this time.”

“I can see that,” said Childe, surveying the area, a telltale smirk on his face, “very impressive. Although, if I may suggest, next time try to take out the Electro Vanguard first, especially since you don’t wield a weapon made for pure damage.”

“Is this turning into a teaching moment?”

“Absolutely not.” Childe laughed.

You found the sound catching, and soon a smile spread across your face as you let your polearm disappear once more. You ran up to Childe, and were about to throw you arms around his neck in a characteristic hug, when the thoughts of before came ramming back into your brain. Taking a step back you planted your arms firmly in front of you, hoping that maybe Childe hadn’t noticed what you’d been about to do.

However Childe approached you instead.

“You weren’t at the gate today.” He said coyly, lips drifting somewhere between a smirk and a frown.

“I’m sorry.” You lowered your head. “I just thought, well maybe that would be better. Since you said you might be leaving permanently and all, and since you were right when you said I’d have to figure things out without you, I don’t know, I thought maybe it’d be for the best.”

Looking up the expression on Childe’s face could only be described as one of complete disbelief. For a moment he stayed frozen in place.

“What in Teyvat do you mean I’m leaving permanently?”

“You said that! Remember… when we were going to pick sea shells you said that you were leaving.” You stepped back, cheeks flushed. “Or maybe you were just sort of sick of me or something.”

“Why would you ever think that?” Childe walked up to you, enveloping one of the hands at your side in his own and bringing it up towards him.

“I… I don’t know,” you replied, feeling very confused and very foolish, “I thought maybe that I was being too affectionate, or too clingy. I mean I know you don’t like me or anything like that. And I thought maybe that I was crossing the boundaries of our friendship.”

“I don’t like you? I’ve liked you since almost the first day we’ve met!”

“Not like that! I mean, like like, you know? As in… well, as in I… I love you.” You let your voice peter out.

“I love you too!” Childe let out. Shaking his head he smiled widely. “That’s what I’m trying to say. I’ve liked you since almost the first time we’ve met. I wasn’t trying to shoo you away.”

“What?” Your brain was short circuiting. Something had gone terribly wrong. You’d definitely been knocked out at some point, and was now hallucinating. There was no way Childe liked you, loved you. He could love anyone, why would he love you.

Childe stepped closer, moving so that your foreheads were almost pressed together.

“May I?” He whispered, voice almost shy. You nodded, a just as small “yes” escaping your lips before Childe cut off your ability to say anything more. It was a short kiss, sweet and chaste, and yet you felt everything around you suddenly come into sharp, almost lucid clarity. You weren’t dreaming. This was happening. This was Childe and he liked you. Childe like you. He liked you, he really liked you.

“Why?” You let out, when the two of you separated. Thankfully Childe remained close to you, being without his presence now would’ve been quite lonely.

“Why what?”

“Why me? I’m not, I don’t know, I can’t even knock out an Electro Vanguard without help.”

Childe let out a laugh, lovely as music.

“I don’t know,” he replied, eyes sparkling, “because you’re you. And I like you.”

And all of a sudden you found that that was enough.

 Ganyu

The days that you accompanied Ganyu on her various errands were the ones in which you were most aware that you were on a level utterly below her.

Of course humans could never really measure up to adepti, after all they made the world and humans simply lived in it. Still in terms of humans, well you weren’t exactly pushing exceptional. If Ganyu represented all that was exceptional about the adepti, well then you represented the average human who didn’t like their job and overall went about their day as unnoticeable as an ant on the road.

Of course Ganyu never acted in a way that would betray the imbalance between the two of you. Indeed Ganyu was nothing if not kind, sweet, and utterly without a semblance of hierarchy. It was one of the things that you adored about her, the straightforward honesty she carried with her, and the way that she appeared not to judge living beings on a scale, even if that was the right of those who were higher and didn’t have to worry about said scale.

“Can you carry this for me?” Ganyu’s voice was soft and somewhat hesitant. You smiled widely, knowing that Ganyu simply had difficulty asking other people for help.

“Of course I can!” Scooping up the package that was stretched out towards you, you saw Ganyu let out a short sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

“Of course! I’m always happy to help you. Where are we taking this?”

“Over to the funeral parlor. It seems that there are some tiles in here that are being used for a specific ritual. Hu Tao said that the family wanted it, I hope she doesn’t actually mean she pushed them towards it.” Ganyu let out a soft sigh. “She once suggested advertising for cremation. Somehow I feel that won’t exactly be welcomed by the people.”

“No one likes to be reminded of their own mortality. Ah, but Hu Tao is doing her best, and if these tiles end up being insulators, I suppose we can’t do much about it. I’ll make sure not to drop them anyways. Getting on Hu Tao’s bad side feels like asking for a prank.”

“You’re probably right.” Ganyu chuckled.

You blushed slightly, loving the way her laugh sounded, soft and open. You knew Ganyu struggled sometimes; she admitted to you herself that it was very difficult to live an existence defined by liminality. Was she an adeptus? Was she a human? She was neither, and yet both would claim her and call her other. In understanding this Ganyu had retreated into herself. Perhaps that’s why her laugh meant so much.

As you strolled down the docks an angry voice cut through the air.

“Qixing!”

Both of you turning around you saw Bolai, heaving slightly, teetering his way towards you. His face was stormy, and for a moment you wondered if someone had stolen something. His words when he caught up however revealed a very different motivation.

“I demand justice!”

“What for?” Ganyu asked, voice deadly serious once more.

“What for? For what Huixin said in regards to me! For the Liyue Qixing complying with disgusting rumors as to the ways in which I conduct my business and my finances. As to the way that you promised to help me then turned on me!”

“I see…” Ganyu sighed as you wracked your brain, trying to remember what she’d told you about the time that she and the traveler ran around trying to detangle various examples of tax fraud. “Have you considered putting up a formal complaint?” Ganyu meanwhile was still trying to keep professional, something that you admired her for.

“How am I supposed to trust the Qixing after what happened? No! I demand compensation now!”

“Sir, I’m sure you’re quite upset, but there’s no need to act in such a way. If you wish to clear your name, then we can meet in private and review the testimony and documents we received. If not, then I’m afraid there is nothing I can do for you. I’m very sorry.”

Ganyu turned back towards the direction in which you two had been previously walking. Evidently too agitated to think properly Bolai let out a strangled cry.

“We’re not finished yet!” Reaching out, he seemed to be attempting to turn Ganyu around by the shoulder. Having been standing there unthinking you now moved to block the action, knowing that Bolai didn’t really mean anything by it, but not trusting the man who looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. Bolai’s hand instead smacked into the box in your hands, which slipped from your grip and fell to the floor in a great crash.

Time seemed to slow down somewhat after this, as Bolai stepped backwards and Ganyu turned around, face one of evident horror at the scene. You felt your face begin to burn as you looked at the unassuming box, which now looked a little bit the worse for wear.

“What…” Ganyu trailed off. Bolai waved his hands about in a panicked sort of way.

“That wasn’t me! That wasn’t my fault! It was this person they… I don’t know what they were thinking, getting in the way like that. How idiotic! This is nothing but a mess, a disgrace!”

Normally you wouldn’t pay Bolai’s words any mind, but now they seemed to pierce right through, as you realized all the trouble you’d just caused Ganyu. Glancing over towards her you found you could neither look her in the eyes nor stay where you were.

“I-I’m sorry!” You stammered. Moving to pick up the box you found your hand hesitating. Fearing that you’d just make things worse you pulled yourself and dashed in the opposite direction, speeding up the docks and towards the outskirts of the city.

Normally the view from Mount Tianheng was one that stole your breath away. Today however the mountain seemed completely uninteresting, especially when compared to the thoughts racing in your head.

How had you gotten here, how had you messed up so much? Ganyu didn’t need your posturing, your attempt to help. She was an adeptus for Morax’s sake! And who were you? Someone who couldn’t even carry a box from Point A to Point B. And now you’d just caused more trouble for Ganyu, when she already had so much to do.

“I’m such a failure.” You groaned into your palms.

“You aren’t!” You lifted your head at the soft exclamation, already knowing who the voice belonged to. Ganyu sidled up to the ledge of the mountain silently, fidgeting with her hands. “May I sit next to you?”

“Of course.” You replied, grateful that Ganyu was even talking to you. Smiling softly the Qixing Emissary let out a soft sigh.

“I love the view of the city from here.” She spoke softly, eyes on the horizon.

“I do too.”

“There’s something so lovely about watching everyone go about their day, isn’t there? To see the people work in harmony to bring prosperity and peace to the city of Liyue. To see how everyone continues on the legacy of Rex Lapis.”

“That’s a lot to see.” You joked, still feeling a little uncomfortable, as if Ganyu might in a minute get up and leave.

“But can’t you see it?” Ganyu’s voice was earnest and her eyes shined. “It’s wonderful how people do it, how they continue to make this city thrive, to keep the contracts of Morax alive and within living memory.”

“Perhaps it’s just harder for humans to judge it themselves?”

“Perhaps.” Ganyu’s expression shifted into something, almost shy, not quite melancholic. “Just like how you’re finding it difficult to forgive yourself.”

“I’m so sorry Ganyu. I don’t know what I was thinking! I just… I just, wasn’t thinking.”

“You were trying to be kind.” Ganyu replied, something almost akin to blush coating her cheeks. “And I have to thank you for that.”

“But I just caused more trouble…”

“You were trying to be kind,” Ganyu repeated, “like I said, you’re finding it difficult to forgive yourself. But you have to. You didn’t truly do anything that needs forgiveness.”

“But I was doing it for completely selfish reasons!” You blurted out, embarrassment and doubt turning into the words you never wanted to utter. “It’s because I like you, and not just because I was trying to be nice. But because, because maybe I wanted to do something for you, and then maybe I’d be good enough maybe.” Realizing how odd that just sounded you turned your head away. For a moment your words hung in the air, and the longer the silence continued the longer you thought about how utterly selfish you were.

“Thank you.” There was a smile in Ganyu’s voice, and as you turned your head once more you could see it plastered across her face.

“For what?”

“For telling me you like me.”

“But… but isn’t it just burdening you? After all I’m not good enough for you.”

“You are!” Ganyu’s voice was firm. “You’re absolutely good enough for me. And what you did, you call it selfishness, but I don’t understand that. Being kind to people you like isn’t selfish, even if you like them. Because this time you were genuinely helping me. Besides, if that’s selfish then I’ve also been terribly selfish.”

“How?”

“By asking you to accompany me everywhere. Because maybe, maybe I like you too.”

For a moment you wondered if you hadn’t accidentally slipped off the cliff, so weightless did you feel. A bit lightheaded you leaned forward.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Ganyu smiled nervously. Reaching out she took your hand in hers.

The two of you watched the sun set over the city of contracts mostly in silence. Every once in a while there would be a spurt of conversation, but mostly there was nothing but the sounds of the birds and the cicadas, and the pounding of two hearts, hearts both a bit ragged from the events of the day.

For what a day it had been. And how wonderfully it had ended.

 Kaeya

If you could use anything as justification for your crush on Kaeya, he did flirt with you. Unfortunately he also flirted with everyone else in Mondstadt.

“How’s my favorite knight of Favonius?” Kaeya’s cocky voice was clear as a bell, and for a moment your heart flipped as the handsome knight came into view, smile as lovely as it had been the day before.

“Blessed by the presence of our beloved cavalry captain.” You replied in a singsong voice.

The first time Kaeya had used that line on you it felt like your soul had left your body and your heart had run a marathon. Unfortunately you’d heard him use practically the same line on Rosaria the next day, his favorite mysterious nun, robbing you of your fantasy in which Kaeya had any interest for you.

Your banter however was not without genuine feeling. You were utterly infatuated with Kaeya, having fallen for the handsome knight about two weeks into your own training. Originally having been an adventurer you’d joined the knights relatively recently after a series of Abyss attacks on the City of Freedom. As such Kaeya had by then already occupied an exalted position among the ranks, and the hours of being trained, teased, and flirted at by the mysterious cavalry captain had been enough to throw you head over heels.

Not that you’d ever expect things to develop more than they already had. Having a crush on the flirtiest man in Mondstadt did mean that you were praised every once in a while, but it also meant that the praise meant little more than empty words, and that there was always someone else who had heard them. Not that you begrudged those people, not knowing them or not caring. It was Kaeya’s right to be as he was, flirty and irreverent; and you’d never ask him to change that part of himself, or any other.

To do so would be to change the person you’d grown to love.

You trotted up the steps of the Favonius headquarters, opening the door with a slight “oof” before stepping into the cool building. Today was going to be a quiet sort of day for the knights, and you’d been assigned to pick up a few books from Jean’s office to be recorded by Lisa before being sent off to the Church. Going to open the door you paused at the voices inside.

“– saying it’s nothing.”

“And I’m saying that it’s becoming a distraction. I don’t want to control your actions Kaeya, but this pining has been slowing down your work, and we need you as one of our most crucial members to be on top of things.”

“I’m not pining.”

“What do you mean you aren’t pining,” Jean let out a snort, “as if it’s not obvious to everyone around you. Look, I’m not saying you have to break things off –”

“Good, because they haven’t even begun.”

“Then maybe that’s part of your problem. Maybe if you told them you liked them then you’d be able to get back on track.”

“I’m doing my best.”

“You aren’t doing anything. And that’s the problem.”

You didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, having made your way over to the library as to make sure that you were get caught, and to cool your head in regards to what you’d just heard.

So Kaeya liked someone. You shouldn’t’ve really been surprised. Kaeya was a wonderful person; intelligent, good with a weapon, polite, handsome. What person wouldn’t fall in love with him? And when everyone’s in love with you, well, it was unsurprising that eventually Kaeya would find someone who he loved back just as much. Then, why did it hurt?

You fought the urge to wrack your brain for the people Kaeya spoke most about, finding the act beneath you. Still, your mind wandered. Perhaps it was Rosaria after all, or maybe it was only because you remembered her. Perhaps it was the sword smith who came twice monthly to check up on the weaponry. Or perhaps it was the tailor, who could sew anything with the utmost care. Or perhaps it was a musician, or an archivist, or another knight. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Your head swam and you found your eyes stinging. Now wasn’t the time to cry, not when you needed to honor your appointment with Jean, not when you were somewhere where any one of your colleagues might discover you. Not where Kaeya might walk in any minute and realize what you’d done. This thought finally brought you out of the spiral of your mind. Making sure that any tears that might’ve escaped were wiped away you took a deep breath, steadying yourself before you walked out of the library and into Jean’s office.

Evidently you must’ve looked much worse than you thought, for Jean took one look at you and ordered you home, grumbling about how much trouble there had been recently. You thanked her half-heartedly before making your way out of the Headquarters, heart heavy as lead. At least work would’ve been a welcome distraction.

Arriving home you saw what Jean meant. Though you weren’t particularly teary, your face had taken on an ashen pallor that made it look like you’d either just gotten a shock, fainted, or had suddenly contracted consumption. Letting out a sigh you collapsed on the couch of your apartment. You knew you should probably do something, should eat or work on some extra work or something. But right now you didn’t want to do any of that. You just wanted to forget.

The knock that sounded at your door was extremely unwelcome, and you bit back bitter words as you made your way over to the door. Any protest however was silenced at the sight of Kaeya, hair slightly tussled, expression opaque, on your doorstep.

“Kaeya.” You meant to sound more peppy, but the action felt too tiring. “What’re you doing here?”

“Making sure that you’re alright. Jean told me that you looked unwell, and we can’t have our best knight getting sick, now can we?”

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

You went to turn around, when Kaeya reached over and place his hand on your forehead. Freezing you let out a sound somewhere between a strangled cry and a shriek. Kaeya didn’t react to this however, or the red quickly spreading across the bridge of your nose. Instead he let out a sigh, before smiling, something which also caused your heart to seize up.

“Not running a fever. I’m glad. Do you know what’s wrong by any chance?”

“Yes. No! I mean, I think, I, I just need rest.”

“You can tell me if something’s wrong. I might not be able to help, but I can try. Consider it the duty of the Cavalry Captain. Have to keep up appearances, even among the ranks.”

“Really Kaeya, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” Kaeya’s eye seemed to pierce through your soul. “You seem… upset, exhausted. Please, let me help.”

“I can’t…” Your voice cracked and you turned your head away, mortified by your inability to control yourself.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Kaeya’s voice was filled with sudden worry. “Is someone doing something to you?”

“No! No one is. I just can’t because, because it’d be selfish.”

“What do you mean?” Kaeya’s tone had become utterly perplexed, and for a moment you felt the crazy urge to laugh. As if it wasn’t painfully obvious why you couldn’t. This was so tiring. You were so tired.

“Because it’s not fair of me to take away your happiness just because of my own feelings.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I heard you talking to Jean,” you explain, face burning, “she said that you liked someone. Or maybe you did, I don’t remember. Anyways you like someone and it’s not fair of that to hurt me, I have no right to your feelings. But, but it hurts, it really, really hurts.”

The silence when you finished was miserable. You weren’t even looking up at Kaeya, not wanting to see the destruction of a friendship you valued so much.

“Have you considered that the person I’m so infatuated with might be you?”

When you looked up you caught a wave of emotions, similar in strength to the ones currently going through you, plastered over Kaeya’s face. Happiness, sadness, regret, relief; all these things danced in his eyes. In that moment you loved him even more for it, for knowing that he understood, and that he too couldn’t hide the affects of having someone you loved so close and yet so far.

Saying nothing you walked over and slowly stretched your hand out. Kaeya took the hand in his, and you reveled in the small intimacy, in his calloused fingers enveloping yours.

“I’m not good enough.” You pointed out, voice soft.

“You aren’t the one who decides who I love.” Kaeya replied, voice firm. “To me there is no one else worthy in the world. Only you. And I hope that I can be the same for you, that I can be worthy.”

“Yes. Oh yes.”

For Kaeya was more than simply worthy. He was the one you loved the most, as well as the one who’d now made you the happiest person you could ever dream of.

#requested #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #childe #ganyu #kaeya #childe x reader #ganyu x reader #kaeya x reader #scenarios #my writing

[rigelmejo]

Posting about the app Clozemaster again! Because it's really useful in some ways and if u want to utilize something like it I want u to know it's out there! (I wish clozemaster paid me to promo them cause I really do like their app ToT)

The basic app is free (and has plenty of content to simply be used completely free). It is designed to give you sentences in your target language with a word missing, and then you either figure out the missing word (cloze deletion) in a multiple choice or by typing it in. If you don't know the word or get it wrong, it will then show you the right word (so you can learn it). Each sentence includes audio, shows the translation (either during the cloze test or after you answer), and works much like flashcards on anki or any other SRS flashcard system. It will show you sentences in a spaced repetition schedule again to help you learn the word. You can also mark a sentence to ignore (if you find it useless, don't want it, or it has some error etc), and mark a sentence mastered (if you understand all of it and no longer wish to review it etc). It exposes you to the sentences in order of most common words. The sentence collections aim to teach you 1000 words or more (check the sentence collection title, some collections are based on HSK or JLPT or some specific language test vocabulary) from most common words to less. I believe the original Clozemaster app took its sentences from Tatoeba, i am not sure if since then they've taken from new sources. Because of the source of the sentences, sentence content is varied (content could be anything containing X word being studied), some translations are not direct translations and occasionally sentence translations are incorrect (if you find an incorrect translation you can report it so the app can remove it from their content, or click Ignore it so you don't see it again).

Because a decent amount of translations are not word for word direct translations, I do think the app is best suited to upper beginners or above - because those learners will know enough common words and basic grammar to recognize when it's an indirect translation, ans know enough to generally recognize if a translation is wildly wrong. There are some sentences with incorrect translations, but I find they are not super common, and if using any pre-made learner sentence deck you're likely to run into similar type errors on occasion. So I personally recommend, if you use Clozemaster (or anything pre-made that hasn't been combed multiple times for errors) just remember that while you learn, you may realize later you learned some errors and will need to make minor corrections later. Overall I find Clozemaster sentence collections to have about as many errors as if you were using a pre-made anki deck such as the Core 6k japanese deck, or the original Chinese Spoonfed deck, or one of the many HSK sentences decks I've found. So I think the errors will ultimately not affect learning much, given you are aware that you should not assume each translation is perfect and have a curious mind when noticing things.

What do I recommend you use Clozemaster for?

If you would like to study a language with flashcard sentences, ordered by most common words, pre-made. For the people who want to do sentence flashcards but do not have time to make their own anki decks. If you like anki a lot though, I think some languages have Very Well Made sentence decks ordered by common words with more learner-friendly grammar that gets gradually more complex, so if you like anki you may find anki alternatives better than any of the collections Clozemaster offers! (I personally found Nukemarine's japanese memrise sentence decks to be my favorite content wise, but Clozemasters sentence collections included more grammar similar to dramas/Mangas that I was NOT running into in material curated for learners, so Clozemasters sentences ultimately got me more familiar with more varied grammar).

If you are in the awkward stage of not being able go read material for native speakers yet, but you can read textbook examples and graded readers. Clozemaster is Excellent for giving you generally "graded" reading material. It is in small bite size sentence form so you aren't overwhelmed like you would be with a novel, each sentence usually only has one or a few new elements to teach you, so its fairly comprehensible reading material, and you can usually learn the new word from context. The sentences tend to be varied in content, topic, grammar, complexity, so you get small manageable practice with a variety of things. And the fact sentences are ordered by most common words means you can go in and find where your vocabulary level roughly is, then continue learning from there to Keep building vocabulary until you feel novels etc for natives are manageable. If you have some gaps in common words you know, you can use the sentences to quickly fill in your gaps (and skip sentences you know). If you know plenty of words but just need practice seeing them in different grammar patterns/with varied conjugation, Clozemaster sentences are good for exposing yourself to that variety of presentation. The first time I used Clozemaster was for bridging the gap from being able to read basic nonfiction things in French and graded readers, to being able to read novels. It worked very well. Clozemaster fits very well for upper beginners/lower intermediate learners who no longer need basic curated learner material, but would like some learning supports (translations/graded material difficulty wise) before jumping all the way into only material for native speakers.

If you want pre-made listening material. Especially if you would prefer graded listening material (easier to harder, only a little new info introduced per sentence, ordered from more common words to less), would like to hear your native language then the target language (so audio flashcards) with any kind of order/repetition you want. For this feature you need to pay for Clozemaster (I did because I love this feature, but you could always try it out then cancel if you don't like this feature - also there are free audio flashcard type collections outside of Clozemaster for many languages if you go digging). You just click your sentence collection you want to study, then click Radio Mode. The app will then play sentence audio and play an audio translation if you select for it to, and replay the audio in target language as much as you set it to. The app will keep playing the audio until you stop Radio Mode. So you can listen to it while working, walking, etc. Or you can watch the app while it's in Radio mode - the app will display the sentence text so you can read along. You can set it up so you can use this Radio Mode to do Listening Reading Method, to practice shadowing, to do repetitive listening, or whatever you'd like to do. And of course, you can also just use this mode for extensive listening. This apps Radio Mode is the easiest way I know to Extremely Quickly create a makeshift "audio flashcard" course to listen through. Glossika language courses teach through the audio flashcard method (listening/recognizing/shadowing sentences in your target language, with your native language audio as context), and usually do NOT order the sentences in order of difficulty whereas Clozemaster does. Glossika is not free. Other audio flashcard courses exist for some languages (Japaneseaudiolessons.com is a nice free course for japanese), but Clozemaster can basically do a rough version of this in graded difficulty order for any language on its app. If you want comprehensible audio flashcards FAST, Clozemaster can do it. Or if you want that audio to go up quite a lot of words (some Clozemaster collections have 10k words, 20k words, and many more sentences). Some good free alternatives to Clozemaster that accomplish something similar - search "target-language sentences audio" into YouTube. Find some long video or playlist with X common words in sentences. These video types usually have text (so like clozemaster you can read as you listen if desired), and repeat the sentences in the target language and English (so you can just listen to comprehend and study if you aren't able to read during study time/want to just focus on listening), and are sometimes ordered from more common words to less. For Chinese specifically, if you search Chinese Spoonfed Audio into a websearch there's some great graded difficulty audio flashcard files that cover 8000 words. For japanese, japaneseaudiolessons.com has nice free audio flashcard lessons, and if you websearch core 6k audio you may find the english-japanese audio flashcard files some people have made.

Should you supplement Clozemaster with other stuff?

Yes! ToT

Now, if you're a kind of person who genuinely wants to learn by sentence examples, with pre-made materials, and not study grammar explicitly... yes technically Clozemaster will suit your needs about as well as the average pre-made anki deck. So Clozemaster, in combination with immersion, would eventually get you to a comprehension level where you can generally learn from context during immersion, and then start learning production (which requires new study methods). So like, if you've heard of the Refold (Massive Immersion Approach) and want to learn that way roughly, with pre-made materials rather than making your own anki sentence cards.

If you want to have a bit more explicit study of grammar, pronunciation etc? I would recommend using Clozemaster as a study supplement to other things you're doing. Either: as a sentence flashcard set to pick up common words, a graded reading supplement, a graded listening supplement. This app does not have grammar instruction or explanations - I think some language collections have grammar drills but I have not looked into them so I don't know how good they are, but generally this app is learn by doing (no explanations/lessons). For explicit grammar instruction, explanations etc then some other resources will be needed. Personally, I'd recommend a conventional course (textbook, free website course, grammar guide, class, etc) with Clozemaster as a supplement to get either more reading/listening exposure that's a bit more difficult than learner-oriented material but still easier than native speaker material, or as a supplemental SRS flashcard (or audio flashcard) tool to increase your vocabulary (and some grammar understanding you happen to get from context).

I recommend Clozemaster primarily if you're upper beginner or higher. Because at that stage, it's benefits will be greater and it's downsides will affect you less. And at that learning stage you might be trying to immerse in native content more, and Clozemaster works great as material relatively graded to your comprehension level so you can gradually Raise your comprehension level, which will make immersion easier. If you're an upper beginner, false beginner, or anyone with some prior language knowledge, Clozemaster is going to be easier for you to utilize and quickly learn from.

If you are a total beginner? Clozemaster can be useful too, especially if you remember not to assume everything you see is 100% correct. If you enjoy learning through context then the app may be easier for you to use earlier on. If you're a total beginner I would Really Recommend using other study resources too, to fill in gaps in understanding and clarify things that Clozemaster absolutely won't make clear. (As a beginner, Clozemaster is like being given a bunch of example sentences with usually similar translations next to them then told to Learn a language by context/comparing/problem solving... which is quite a difficult task to do with no outside resources lol). A beginner is going to have to put way more work into understanding the first few hundred sentences. That said - I have seen people who went from beginner to intermediate (as in knowing nothing to being able to immerse in target language materials and understand the material enough to move onto just studying from target language materials) with just the app. So it can be done. For me personally, the steep initial difficulty curve as a beginner means I haven't personally done it. But it's definitely possible to do.

If you don't know anything about the writing system in the target language you are studying... I REALLY Recommend at least bare bones familiarity before using Clozemaster. The will not explain anything to you. I checked out the Korean Clozemaster sentences as a total beginner and realized I NEED to grasp Hangul before I am going to be able to learn much. If you start the chinese course, you wl desperately want to know some highly common hanzi beforehand otherwise the learning curve will be intensely steep at first (and the difficulty curve with Clozemaster is already at its hardest for the first few hundred words since the sentences will have to contain multiple words you don't know yet - whereas later sentences will genuinely be less likely to have as many new words/grammar points per example). You will be in deep water if you're grappling with many new words, new grammar points, and you don't recognize any hanzi at all yet. Same goes for the Japanese sentences - at minimum know hiragana and katakana so you have some context for the sentences you see. Then you may also want to know some common Kanji before starting so you're not brute force trying to memorize all the new common Kanji you see at the start of the sentence collection. Same with Thai or Russian or any language with an unfamiliar writing system - learn Some basics before you use Clozemaster or the initial difficulty curve will be really annoyingly steep. (But hey if you really enjoy that difficulty curve... I've seen people manage it.)

Things I've used Clozemaster successfully for?

1. As an upper beginner in French who could read some non-fiction and graded readers, I used the app for a few months just doing the sentences. I used them as graded reading practice. Afterward, I found reading a bit higher level reading materials like novels much more doable.

2. As a false beginner in Japanese (I knew about ~1000 words roughly, had studied some grammar, had studied some specific points like particles in depth but forgotten, knew roughly ~500 Kanji and knew around ~1200 hanzi in case that vaguely helped my Kanji recognition), I went through the entire 100 most common word collection in Clozemaster. It took 1-2 months. I did not prioritize review, I did some new sentences each day (and some reviews if they happened to pop up). So I primarily tried to get through all the cards at least once, rather than trying to master all cards. I went through 632 sentences (so I got varied examples of those 100 common words, along with exposure to other words in those sentences beyond the 100 most common words). As a false beginner, I was filling in gaps in my basic knowledge and getting some varied graded reading practice. Afterward, I found reading manga much more doable (whereas before I could not grasp many sentence main ideas without a dictionary and only sometimes main chapter ideas without a dictionary), and could start playing Kingdom Hearts 2 in Japanese (so a combo of my prior context knowing the game in English plus grammar/common words I'd gotten more familiar with by doing the Clozemaster sentences), could play Persona 2 and Crisis Core in japanese. It was enough improvement to allow me to immerse in target language materials that previously required much more constant use of a dictionary. It did not make me able to understand things perfectly lol, that will take many many more years of studying. But it let me finally break into reading/engaging with things I previously found too difficult. For both points 1 and 2, pre-made sentence flashcards in anki or memrise or another resource would likely work similarly well. What primarily helped me was that clozemaster could fill gaps in vocabulary I had, and expose me to grammar I wasn't seeing often or at all in my other study materials (like I love Nukemarines resources but they're very learner tailored examples, whereas I think Clozemaster forcing me to see intensely varied grammar and just "figure it out" prepared me better for trying to read and figure things out).

3. As a false beginner in Japanese and upper beginner in Chinese, I used the Radio Mode in Clozemaster for about a month. Just listening to the sentences in english/target language in the background whenever I had time like during work, doing chores, walking, when level grinding in video games etc. To see if it would improve my listening comprehension. It did. And I personally learned from thar experience that: repetitive listening improves my listening comprehension skills a lot - like audio flashcards and audiobooks etc, and I personally can learn new words fairly well from graded difficulty audio flashcards/Clozemaster. So it's ultimately a study method I still use in various ways. Anyway after that Clozemaster Radio Mode experiment: my listening comprehension without any text aids was significantly better (biggest benefit). My listening skill in Chinese got closer to my reading skill (though reading is still somewhat better). My listening skill in Japanese got DECENT for the first time pretty much ever... before this my Japanese reading skill had been weak and listening had been near useless. Specifically I noticed I got better at parsing words in both languages (hearing word/sentence chunks distinctly which even helps with unknown words just so I can isolate what is unknown and look it up easier), interpreting grammar automatically (ALL that Japanese listening really helped me with interpreting Japanese grammar more quickly whereas before I had to rethink everything into English word order whether reading or listening which... took a lot of time and lowered my ability to comprehend things). I do not think Clozemaster itself is needed for this study activity - any repetitive listening of audio flashcard type audio should work as well. Clozemaster is just one quick to access and already pre-made option. Some languages have many good free audio flashcard type resources out there.

#rant #clozemaster #app #once again i do love this app even with its flaws #its so convienient for some study activiites #anki works better tho if u have anki set up good For Your Needs #clozemaster Radio Mode is possibly my favorite featurw #because graded audio sentences are significantly harder to find. than text flashcards graded by difficulty #i am literally listening to radio mode japanese rn just cause its an easy way to review. and #also i. doubt this glitch is going to work for u #but i made my clozemaster on iphone. bought the paid versjon. then moved to samsung #ans since then i have not been charged monthly #but my radio mode still works. #that aside. i hope eventually theh make rasio mode a free feature. its nice

[five-rivers]

Adoption

Based on a prompt by @fabnamessuggestedbytumbler for the Phic Phight! An excuse for Lost Time fluff? Don't mind if I do...

.

.

.

The Ghost Zone had a legal system. A court system. A prison system. A police system. A set of established rules. There were even lawyers.

In theory.

In reality the courts (Observants) refused to look at anything that wasn't world ending. Every group had their own, private prison. The police made up their own rules and, even then, broke them regularly. The actual rules had gone several hundred years without an update and referred to places, organizations, and customs that no longer existed. The lawyers were all clinically depressed. That's what happens when there's no active, unifying head of state for hundreds of years.

Still. Every so often a sufficiently foolish ghost, possessed of a brave purpose, would attempt to navigate the ruins of the legal system. Few made it out alive.

(True, being ghosts, they didn't necessarily go into it alive, but it's the thought that counts.)

But those who did make it out (metaphorically) alive, did so with prizes... well, not great enough, but something enough to convince others to make the attempt. Hence Clockwork's current location and headache.

"Sign the paper, Walker," snapped Clockwork.

"That would be against the rules," said Walker, leaning back in his stupid chair. Clockwork's nonexistent spine hurt just from looking at it.

Maybe he should give himself a spine, just so he'd have a reason to feel this way.

"How," he began, "would it be against the rules? This form needs to be signed by a law enforcement official that has seen or witnessed conclusive evidence the child in question being abused by their natural parents. That is you."

"Yes, but the law enforcement officer must first get a warrant approved by an appropriate court in order to collect such evidence," countered Walker.

"Not if the official came across the evidence or act of abuse while pursuing a different case or simply following standard operating procedure. You saw them shoot at him. His mother put a gun to his head. Have mercy, Walker. I know you don't like him, but he is a child who needs guidance. Not a criminal."

"He's a criminal in my books," said Walker.

"What he did was hardly a crime."

"Jailbreak is a crime!"

"Not if one is unjustly imprisoned," said Clockwork. "He was attempting to remove the foreign object." No matter that possessing material-plane items wasn't an actual crime.

"He let others escape!"

"And what were they imprisoned for?"

Walker grumbled. "Some of them are dangerous, and even he knew that," said Walker, nodding at the file spread over his desk.

"Consider it a cry for help. While you were watching him," stalking him, Clockwork did not say, "on the material plane, did he really strike you as criminally inclined? Or perhaps he was simply confused and scared? One thousand years is a very long time in human terms. The targets of his Obsession would have died. Even if he did commit a misdemeanor, he would have rightly been granted clemency, or at least had his sentence deferred."

Walker frowned.

"That's not what this is about, is it? You covering up a mistake?"

"No," said Walker.

Clockwork blinked, quickly running through potential futures. "No one will care that you crossed the veil without authorization. No one who can do anything about it, in any case."

"There'll be an investigation if I sign that there piece of paper. What's the big deal, anyway? Like you said, humans don't live that long. Just wait fifty years."

"They almost ended him," said Clockwork. "He's a child. Do you really want that on your conscience? With the knowledge that you could have stopped it?"

Sighing, Walker picked up his pen.

.

Danny went to school. Mainly, he went because he didn't know what else to do. He needed the routine, even if the routine was a lie and he felt like trash.

"You could have stayed," whispered Sam, as his hand inched towards the bandages on his chest for the fifth time that morning. "They wouldn't have noticed you."

Danny shook his head. His hand shook more. He put it back in his lap. "It wouldn't have been right. Besides, I need a passing grade in this class, right?" He couldn't get another F, or his parents would kill him, except- except- except-

They had already tried to kill him.

Everything had gone so much worse than he had ever imagined- No. That wasn't quite right. It had gone- It had...

At least he hadn't been cut open.

(Much.)

"Mr. Fenton?"

Danny jumped, banging his knees painfully on the underside of his desk. He looked up, wildly, tensing himself to flee, only the fact that he was currently human keeping his powers from activating.

(Well, that and... what had been done to him.)

When had Mr. Lancer gotten there?

"What?" he asked, breathlessly.

"Are- Are you alright, Mr. Fenton?"

"I'm fine," Danny said. He wasn't. His ghost half was urging him to go find a nice, dark, quiet, safe corner to hide in, preferably one in the Ghost Zone, his heart was hammering out of his chest, he'd spent the night not-sleeping in one of the guestrooms in Sam's house, and that was before even touching on his injuries.

He forced a smile. Mr. Lancer was one of the few teachers who hadn't given up on him, which was alternately touching and frustrating.

"You look sick," said Mr. Lancer. "Are you sure you don't want to call home?"

Danny's heart stuttered, his core painfully cold. "I'm sure," he said.

"Today is a project day," said Mr. Lancer. "You wouldn't be missing anything in this class, and I can talk to your other teachers."

"No, I'm fine."

.

The legal clerk for the family court was the kind of ghost who seemed to have fused with her role. The sleeves and collar of her shirt melded seamlessly with her skin. Her nails were brass pen nibs. The lenses of her glasses were part of her face.

She lived in either the basement or the attic of this particular building, depending on how one oriented themselves, among barely-organized stacks of books and papers. There were parchment scrolls and stone tablets, too, the later often re-purposed as elements of the room's furniture. Green-marbled filing cabinets grew out of the walls, and electronic somethings glittered out of the shadows.

The clerk had been reviewing Clockwork's paperwork for literal days. Rather, she would have been, if Clockwork hadn't surreptitiously dropped a time medallion around her neck and stopped time.

She hummed, thoughtfully. "In this document, you are using the pronoun tsai to refer to the adoptee. Are you certain you don't mean tusui? Or perhaps chahe?"

"Absolutely," said Clockwork. The intimation that he wasn't fluent in nchabhatsi was insulting. On the other hand, the requirement for that particular piece of paperwork to be in the language was also, in his opinion, rather ridiculous. Many ghosts, especially the recently dead, did not know nchabhatsi.

"The adoptee is liminal?"

"Yes," said Clockwork.

"Hmm." She stood up and flew from her desk to an inverted bookshelf anchored to the ceiling. From a box she took a huge sheaf of papers, and blew an amount of dust from them that was unhealthy even to a ghost. "It has been a while since we used these," she said, giving Clockwork a faded-ivory smile. "You'll need to fill these out and have them notarized by the proper officials before you can proceed. Liminal spirits are so rare, after all! They require special care. Oh!" Her hands fluttered. "And I'll have to get in contact with our liminality expert. That may take some time."

"If you can give me their name," said Clockwork, "I will take care of it." He gingerly took the stack of slightly-decayed paper. Had it really been so long since a partly-human child had been adopted? Probably.

"Oh, you're such a dear," said the clerk, not noticing the sudden absence of the medallion around her neck. "But that paperwork won't do itself, and-"

"It's done," said Clockwork. Fulfilling some of the new requirements had been more challenging than others and avoiding a paradox had taken considerable self-control, but what good were his temporal abilities if he couldn't use them for personal gain now and again? None at all.

"Ah," said the clerk.

.

Familiar, and very loud, voices spilled from the hallway near the office. Danny, one hand on his locker, trying to remember his combination, froze like a deer in headlights. His heartbeat picked up, his core buzzed frantically. He couldn't move. Grey crept in along the edges of his vision.

"... not him. It was never him! He's dead-"

"Mrs. Fenton, Mr. Fenton, I'm not sure what you're getting at, here, but your son has been at school all day, and we-"

"A ghost killed him and took his place! It's been playing a sick game with us this whole time!"

"Danny would never have gotten grades like this. We should have noticed the lower intellect right away, if nothing else."

"That's-" spluttered Mr. Lancer. "You- Daniel's work is exemplary, what little of it he turns in. I'm going to have to ask you to go back to the office-"

"No! Not until that piece of ectoplasmic scum is wiped from the face of the Earth!"

"Danny," said Tucker, much closer. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Right. Ghostly super hearing. Tucker and Sam, staring at him with concern, couldn't know.

"They're here," he managed, the words like sandpaper in his throat.

Sam uttered a word that would have sent her mother into a screeching fit. "We need to get you out of here," she said putting a hand on his back and pushing him down the hall.

"I'll run interference," said Tucker. "Make sure they can't follow you in the GAV."

"Good thinking," said Sam.

"Call me when you're safe," said Tucker, peeling off, presumably to hack the GAV.

"Danny, breathe," ordered Sam, as she propelled him through the double doors at the back of the school. "We're going to get you through this."

.

Clockwork had resorted to trapping the legal complex in a massive temporal bubble. Not the neatest solution, true, and it seemed to encourage the various functionaries, regulators, and bureaucrats to take even more time to process even the simplest request, but at least it would keep Daniel's suffering in the meantime to a minimum.

However, that didn't change the fact that he had been bouncing back and forth between the various floors of the building like a ping-pong ball, never getting closer to the solitary family court judge, for well over a subjective year. He was exhausted, frustrated, and he missed Daniel.

"You will be able to provide steady, stable access to the adoptee's preferred haunt?" asked his present interviewer.

"Yes," said Clockwork, dully. The room was ringed with runes that prevented deception of any kind.

"You will be able to provide shelter adequate for both his ghostly and human form?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. He had answered these questions so many times before.

"You have taken the mandated class on liminality?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. He was beginning to understand why other ghosts just gave up and sought extralegal solutions.

"You are aware of a liminal spirit's developmental and emotional needs?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. This was just so boring.

"And are you able to satisfy those needs?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. If only it would end.

The interviewer nodded. "Then we're done here," he said.

"Ye- What? Does that mean I can see the judge?" asked Clockwork, hopefully.

"No. That means that your adoption motion can move on to the next stage," said the interviewer. "Our liminality expert will examine your arrangements and determine whether or not they are sufficient, and we will contact law enforcement to follow up on your claim that the adoptee is being abused."

Clockwork bit back a groan. At least he was making progress.

.

They cut through the empty field behind the school, angling back toward the surrounding neighborhood. The grass came up to their chests, except where there were holes, mounds, and gouges from ghost fights. When there was one in the school, Danny tried to bring it out here, so people wouldn't get hurt.

He wasn't often successful.

Sam led the way. Danny felt- He felt ashamed. If his powers were working, he would be able to fly them away, or at least turn them invisible. This would all be so much easier. He could have taken care of himself, and Sam and Tucker wouldn't get in trouble, because they would definitely get in trouble for this. But he couldn't.

He couldn't even convince his parents that he was himself. He had to screw that up, too.

Before, he had thought, worse case scenario would be that they'd try to 'fix' him, to remove his ghost half, or maybe they'd think he was overshadowed. At least, he'd convinced himself of that, convinced himself that dissection would be off the table if he ever told them, that they would still love him. Maybe they might still want to do tests, but they'd love him. They wouldn't want to hurt him.

But he had been so, so wrong. They didn't believe him. They thought he had killed himself, replaced himself.

They had tried to cut him open.

(They succeeded.)

His core shuddered at the memory.

At least, though, there hadn't been any ghost attacks today. He wouldn't have been able to fight anything stronger than the Box Ghost. Heck, he might have lost to the Box Ghost. Like this, he would have to leave the ghosts to his parents, Valerie, or the GIW, none of which were particularly good options for the hunters, the ghosts, or the innocent bystanders of Amity Park.

His core pulsed uncomfortably at the thought of any of them getting hurt, including his parents.

He flinched. His core had been very jumpy, very active ever since... it... happened. Usually it only did this while he was in ghost form, and was otherwise almost dormant.

"Are you okay?" asked Sam. "Is it hurting?" She was the one who had bandaged him up last night.

"We can't stop now," said Danny.

Sam flattened her lips. "That isn't an answer. As soon as we get somewhere quiet, I'm checking you out, okay?"

"Yeah," said Danny.

When they reached the short fence, Sam gave him a boost to get over and they made their way into the suburb. There was a small library branch down the road a ways. It had a small family bathroom that Sam and Tucker had patched Danny up in before. It would be a good place to regroup before trying to put as much distance between them and Danny's parents as possible.

"We could take the city bus, I think," said Sam. "There's a stop outside the library. Maybe we could go to Elmerton?"

"Maybe," said Danny.

"Any ETA on Jazz since last night?"

Danny shook his head. "She couldn't get a flight. She's taking a Greyhound. Won't be here 'til-"

There was a beep. Danny stopped breathing. That could have been anything, a phone, a watch, a car, something from a building, but something about it tickled at Danny's brain as wrong.

"There is a ghost twenty feet in front of you."

The whine of a charging ectogun-

Sam slammed into his side, and they both fell. Danny felt the cut on his chest begin to bleed again, and he curled around it protectively. It hurt so much more than it should, and Danny wondered if that was because ghosts were ultimately shaped by their minds and his was in so much pain right now.

His parents had just shot at him. From behind. Not ghost him, Phantom him, either. Human him.

They hated him. All of him. Not just half of him.

His ghost sense went off. Because things could always get worse for Danny and the universe apparently hated him.

He struggled into a sitting position and blinked, confused. There were people surrounding him, protecting him, standing between him and his parents. Sam was shouting. Danny couldn't make out what she was saying, what anyone was saying, not with his heart pounding in his ears.

"Kid," said one man, shaking his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Danny considered that. "No," he said, finally.

The man pulled a phone from his pocket and began saying something about calling the hospital. Normally, Danny would be worried about that, but he was looking for the ghosts. It was possible one of the more benevolent spirits that haunted Amity Park had happened across the scene, but, somehow, Danny doubted it.

His ghost sense went off again. He whimpered.

His people were in danger.

Ghosts usually came for him (he was leading them here, an evil ghost, causing all this trouble, murderer), or at least attacked him first, to get rid of him as a threat. He staggered to his feet. He had to get away. Still clutching his chest, he turned and bolted.

Almost at once, he was surrounded by ghosts in police gear. Walker's goons. Definitely stronger than the Box Ghost. Still, he was going to at least try to fight. He put his fists up. Maybe some of them would be dumb enough not to phase out of the way of his stupid human punches.

Then Walker himself descended from the sky.

"Daniel," he said, stiffly.

"Walker," returned Danny. A small part of him was grateful that Walker hadn't called him Phantom and spilled his secret. It was strange, but no ghost had ever seemed particularly inclined to do that, despite how easy it would have been.

"We have a court order to take you into custody," said Walker. "Someone wants to ask you a few questions."

Danny decided today's mood was 'pointless bravado and defiance.' "And why would I want to come with- whoa."

As Danny talked, Walker had taken a piece of paper with strange symbols written on it in green ink out from the inside pocket of his jacket. The symbols made his head spin... Or maybe that was just his injuries catching up with him. His left leg was trembling, and he wasn't sure how much longer it would hold out.

He shook his head, trying to clear it, and focused on Walker. "I have no idea what that says."

Walker sighed. "Just come quietly, son. Make it easier on yourself."

Danny swallowed his discomfort at being called 'son.' "You won't hurt anyone else?" he asked.

"I'm just here for you."

There really wasn't much of a choice. Whether he went quietly or got himself beaten up even more, Walker would win and carry him off. Anyone could see that. Besides, ghost prison might be a better alternative than getting dissected by his parents.

He raised his hands in front of him, wrists together. "Go ahead, then," said Danny, flatly.

Walker nodded, and the goons converged on him. The cuffs they put around his wrists glowed green, but they had weight in a way most purely ghostly things didn't. Danny doubted that he'd be able to phase his way out of them, human or ghost. Then they picked him up and the whole swarm started to fly away.

.

"Yes, this is my lair," said Clockwork. "I can, however, duplicate and be both here and at the secondary residence I acquired expressly for the purpose of ensuring continuity of Daniel's human life."

The 'liminality expert' grunted. "He's still been here, though, hasn't he?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. "He has."

"And he might be here again in the future."

"Yes. I do plan to have him here, for short periods of time."

"And later, when he sheds his human life?"

"Perhaps."

"Then I need to know, are these up to OSHA standards? Your entire lair needs to be up to OSHA standards."

"They're time viewers and tools for unraveling paradoxes. OSHA, even the OSHA of the far future, does not regulate these items," said Clockwork. "Why, in the name of time, do you even need to know? Surely, OSHA didn't even exist the last time a liminal child was adopted."

"Well," said the expert, slightly sheepish. "No. But regulations state that all residences must be safe for children by both human and ghost standards."

"Then OSHA is not what you should be using," said Clockwork. "OSHA is the set of rules for occupational health and safety."

"Ah," said the expert. "Then we can move right along to the next check mark, shall we?"

.

"Hi," said a cheerful voice.

Danny looked up from his contemplation of the examination room table and glared balefully at the ghost who had just entered the door. They didn't seem to be affected. But then, why would they be? Danny was handcuffed to the table and clearly not a threat.

"I'm the interviewer," said the featureless ghost. "Do you know why you're here?"

"No," said Danny.

"Well," said the interviewer, "I work for the eighth authorized family court of the Infinite Realms, we're actually the only one right now, but there used to be more, and a little while ago, an adoption request was filed on your behalf."

Danny blinked and made a face. "You mean, someone stole my identity in ghost court?"

"No, no," said the interviewer, waving one amorphous hand. "Not at all. I mean to say, I ghost filed a request to legally adopt you."

"Who?" asked Danny. "Not Vlad?" Vlad was the only ghost he could think of who had demonstrated any interest in adopting him.

"No, that's not the name listed here."

"Plasmius?" asked Danny, still cringing internally.

"No."

"Then who?"

"Clockwork."

"What, seriously?" Danny liked Clockwork, and he liked to think that Clockwork liked him back, that they were friends, but the older ghost always seemed somewhat aloof.

"Yes, he was very serious. Now. I have a number of questions I need to ask you." They took out a small, glowing crystal, and set it on the table. "Do you know what this is?"

"No?" said Danny.

"It's a record crystal," said the ghost. "But one of its other functions is that it can sense deception, and record when in an interview it is being used. Go ahead, say something you know is false."

"I... like toast?"

The crystal's glow dimmed slightly before returning to its previous level.

"There, see? Very useful, don't you think?"

"I guess," said Danny. He didn't know how to feel about this. Any of this. What would ghost adoption even mean? He trusted Clockwork, but this felt like too much, too fast. He hadn't even properly processed what had happened with his parents a few hours ago.

"Right. So. We'll start with an easy one, then. Is your name Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom, also known as Danny Phantom, or simply Danny or Phantom?"

"Yes," said Danny, eyeing the crystal warily.

"And what would you prefer to go by, for the purposes of this interview?"

"Phantom," said Danny.

"Alright then, Phantom," said the interviewer, "could you please tell me where you primarily reside?"

"Fentonworks," said Danny, "in Amity Park." So far, he hadn't really had a reason to lie. All of this was common knowledge for both his human and ghostly acquaintances.

"And what would you consider to be your haunt?"

"My what?"

"Your haunt. The territory that you have metaphysically claimed."

"I- I don't really understand."

"Is there an area that you feel compelled to defend against hostile persons? An area in which non-hostile ghosts defer to you?"

"I- Yeah. I guess. Amity Park. And some of the bits around it, too."

"The entire city?"

"I guess? I don't know," said Danny. "Is that weird?"

"It would be unusual," said the interviewer.

Danny really wished the interviewer had an expression he could read. Or even just something approximating a face.

"Now, do you feel safe in your home? In 'Fentonworks?'"

The correct answer to that question would be no, but he wasn't sure he should answer. What if this was some kind of elaborate trick?

"We can come back to that," said the interviewer. "Are there any other places where you do feel safe?"

"I mean, sure?" said Danny. He fidgeted.

"Would you please share some of those places?"

"School, I guess?" Except that he got beaten up there all the time and his parents had hunted him down there and he had to escape and... Yeah.

The crystal dimmed. Danny grimaced.

"Ah," said the interviewer. "Anywhere else?"

"My friends houses," said Danny. "And the Far Frozen." To his relief, this time, the crystal stayed bright.

"Have you ever been to Clockwork's lair?"

"Yeah," said Danny. He slouched in the chair as much as possible. He wasn't sure he should be answering these questions, but he was. Maybe he should stop.

"Do you feel safe there?"

"Not at first, but now I do."

"I see. Why not at first?"

"Clockwork and I didn't meet on great terms and we sort of got into a fight." Maybe that would get the interviewer to stop. They'd decide Clockwork couldn't adopt him and leave. Did Danny want that? He wasn't sure.

"That's more common than one might expect. But you feel safe with him now?"

"Yes."

"Alright, moving on. How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

There was a long, drawn out silence that managed to be skeptical despite the interviewer's lack of a face.

"I know I'm small," said Danny, insulted, "but I am sixteen."

"Excuse my indelicacy, but... how old were you when you died?"

Danny flushed. "Fourteen," he bit out.

"Then you're fourteen."

"It was two years ago. I'm sixteen."

"Fourteen is your natural age," said the ghost. "A ghost's natural age is the age they died at."

"Yeah, but I'm still half human. I'm still aging. So I'm sixteen."

The interviewer shook their head. "As a liminal spirit, your apparant age range is likely larger than a normal child's would be, but your natural age, your true age, is still fourteen. Based on records of liminals, the highest extent of your age range is most likely to be either twenty-one or twenty-eight. That's part of the reason we investigate official adoption request so thoroughly. The relationship may very well last for thousands of years, if not forever."

"Wait, are you saying I could live forever?" asked Danny, incredulous. This was not how he wanted to find out he was immortal. Heck, he didn't want to be immortal.

"I'll admit, my understanding of liminality isn't perfect, but I believe that is the case. Why? Is that problematic?"

.

"The results of the law enforcement investigation have come back," said the bureaucrat to whom Clockwork was currently assigned. "As well as an inquiry as to the opinion of the mortal law enforcement arm."

"And?" asked Clockwork. "Their findings?"

The bureaucrat, who had up until that point not displayed evidence that xe possessed any emotions whatsoever, made a face of extreme disgust. "When the officers found the child, the human parents were openly shooting at him. Other humans intervened for long enough for law enforcement to pick him up. Of course, they then felt the need to arrest him and carry him away in handcuffs... I have no idea why I keep at this job, really I don't."

Clockwork's core shifted in worry. His first impulse was to leap up and go comfort Daniel, but he suppressed it. If he left now, he would lose his place in line and have to start over.

"The public nature of the event means that the human police are now investigating the child's circumstances and may recommend that the child be removed from his human parents' custody. If you have a human identity and you are able to gain custody of him there, it will aid your case here."

"I am aware," said Clockwork.

"Well, then," xe said. "I believe this is all in order. Here is your ticket to see the judge. Just show it to the door. You know where it is?"

"I do," said Clockwork, rising.

He had walked by the door several times in his dealings with the various clerks and notaries. The room behind it lay directly in the heart of the family court building, all the other rooms and residents armor for this one.

The door itself was made of dark wood full of eye-shaped knots. As Clockwork approached the door, the eyes opened, watching him. He held up the ticket and the doors swung inward.

Inside was a courtroom, complete with benches, tables, a witness stand, a courtroom recorder, a judge's box, and a judge.

The judge was a one-eyed ghost in pale purple robes. She examined Clockwork.

"We had not foreseen this," she said. "Not until you filed the first motion."

"You were never able to see me clearly," said Clockwork, hoping this would not turn into a power play between himself and the Observants. "Did you receive the relevant paper work, your honor?"

"Yes," she said. "Take a seat, Lord Clockwork."

Clockwork flew to the front of the courtroom and settled himself in the applicant's chair.

The judge leaned forward. "Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Because I love Daniel, and I believe he deserves more care and protection than he is currently receiving from his biological parents."

The judge waved a clawed hand. "Yes, yes. But you didn't have to go through all of this and get to me in order to do that. You could have just taken him. That's what most people do, nowadays. Ever since the King was sealed and our systems of governance began to decay."

"I believe it is the only way Daniel will truly be safe," said Clockwork, meeting her one eye calmly.

"You want to prevent us from 'interfering.'"

"That would be nice, yes," agreed Clockwork.

"You want this to be binding," accused the judge.

"You say that like it is a bad thing," said Clockwork. "But what else could induce him to fully remove himself from that situation? You see how they treat him. Have you looked at the medical report, yet?"

"I have," said the judge, looking at her desk. "Very well. All the paperwork is in order. I am approving you for a one-month trial period. At the end of the trial period, the status of the child will be assessed. If his state is found to be acceptable, the adoption will be approved and bound. If it is not, this court will take custody of him until such a time as an appropriate guardian can be found." She scribbled something on a piece of paper and then hit it with a stamp. "The probationary bond should be active. You may go."

"Thank you, your honor."

.

After the end of the interview, which had become much more distressing than Danny wanted to admit, one of Walker's goons showed up and took him away, to another room.

This room was different than any of the other rooms he had seen in Walker's prison. For one, the walls were a soft, pastel green with purple accents, not the harsh, neon pink of elsewhere in the facility. The chairs looked soft, and were arranged almost randomly, clustered in little groups, or around tables. There were colored pencils and crayons on and occasionally floating over the tables. A large basket sat in one corner, overflowing with toys of various sizes.

Alright. Danny was confused.

He let the goon- the... officer?- guide him into one of the chairs and put a stuffed rabbit on his lap.

"I- I don't understand," said Danny. "What's going on?"

"Didn't that interviewer guy tell you?"

"He said I was being adopted," said Danny, who still hadn't wrapped his head around that particular tidbit of information. "But I thought- I was under arrest?" He raised his cuffed hands. "You arrested me?"

"Those're just so you don't run away," said the ghost. He ruffled Danny's hair. "You're not under arrest. We're just waiting for the court to decide what to do with you."

"And what if they don't do anything with me?"

"Then it's up to the boss."

"Oh," said Danny, not liking the sound of that at all.

"But, if it helps, I think that the court probably will decide to do something with you."

It didn't really help, no.

"Do you want a lollipop?"

"Sure," said Danny. It wasn't like this day could get much weirder.

The ghost handed him a lime dumdum. Yeah. That was about what he expected there, honestly.

The sensation of a thick, weighted blanket being draped over his mind hit him with such intensity that he looked around, trying to see if someone had just wrapped him up in a blanket without him noticing. Tension bled out of his muscles, and his core finally stopped the angry/depressed/frightened/pained dance it was doing in his chest.

He felt... protected. Which was wrong, because he was in Walker's prison, and Walker would use any excuse he had to keep Danny imprisoned for a thousand years. Danny was not safe here. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

And yet, that feeling remained.

He brushed his fingers over the bandages over his chest. What was wrong with him? His parents hadn't even cut all the way through, but he was so messed up. He didn't understand.

This feeling... This 'safety'... It felt like a cruel joke more than anything else, only it was one he couldn't escape from because it was coming from inside him and he was calm but he was also crying.

"Oh, heck, do you not like lime? I think I have some green apples-?"

The door to the room opened, and Danny looked up. Before he could register who had come in, he was swept up into a hug.

He blinked into silky purple cloth. "Clockwork?" he croaked.

"I'm here," said Clockwork. "It's fine. You're safe now, Daniel."

Danny pushed away. Clockwork let him. "You're adopting me?" asked Danny.

"Yes," said Clockwork. "Unless you don't want me to."

"Why?" asked Danny. "I don't understand. I didn't think you liked me that much."

"I like you very much," reassured Clockwork. "I want you to be my family."

Danny sniffed. "Okay," he said. It wasn't as if he really had anywhere else to go. "Okay. But what about," he made an awkward gesture with his cuffed hands, "Amity Park?" The idea of leaving hurt, even worse than the cut on his chest.

"You won't have to leave," said Clockwork, soothingly. "You can still have your life there."

"I'll have to go back?" asked Danny, in alarm. Back to Fentonworks, where even the walls had it out for him with how much anti-ghost weaponry they had packed into them? He couldn't. Not after what his parents had done.

(A small part of him knew that wasn't what Clockwork had said, and that he was being irrational. That part of him was ignored.)

"No, no," said Clockwork. "I have a new place, just for you. If you'll let me show you?"

Very hesitantly, Danny nodded.

"Alright, good," said Clockwork. He turned to the police ghost. "Do you have the key for these? We really must be going."

"Yeah," said the ghost, producing the item. "The boss says that he expects you to teach the kid how to respect the law."

"Appropriately," said Clockwork, neutrally, unlocking the cuffs.

Danny felt an urge to hug Clockwork. So he did. Clockwork hugged him back, and rocked him back and forth, gently.

"Are you ready to go?" asked Clockwork.

"Yeah," said Danny.

With a gesture of his staff, Clockwork opened a portal.

.

Clockwork wanted custody of Danny. He wanted full custody of Danny. Legally. In both worlds.

This posed a bit of a challenge, as he did not legally exist on one of those two worlds. Thus, Clockwork had to establish a legal presence in the human world.

On the surface of it, this did not seem too difficult. Between his temporal powers, his minor shapeshifting abilities, and overshadowing, simply creating an identity was easy. The hard part was creating an identity that Daniel would not have encountered before, in order to avoid a paradox, while making it plausible that Daniel had encountered the identity before, for the purposes of dealing with mortal law.

In one timeline, the hill to the west of town stood empty of habitation, owned by the county but rendered unusable due to a dangerous failed mine on the site. In this timeline, however, the mine had never been built, and the property was instead owned by a reclusive hermit who went by the name of Charles Worth. The property had passed through many hands in the years before Mr. Worth had purchased it in his youth, and a stately, if somewhat faded, mansion sat at the hill's crest, overlooking Amity Park.

Charles Worth went to Amity Park only rarely, and for good reason. He was an albino, with red eyes, white hair, and even whiter skin, and superstitious people often thought the worst of him. In recent days, he had even been mistaken for a ghost.

'Mistaken.'

He rubbed Daniel's shoulders, and the child startled, pulling away from him again. Daniel had missed Clockwork's, admittedly minor, transformation, and now blinked up at his newly pale face, confused.

"Do you like my disguise?" asked Clockwork.

Daniel's eyes flicked up and down Clockwork, assessing, processing. He gave a tiny nod, and reattached himself. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Hickory Hill," said Clockwork.

Danny frowned, mouthing the words. "Isn't that owned by... Charles Worth. Charles- Oh. I get it."

Clockwork gave Danny a little squeeze. "Would you like to see inside?"

"Okay," said Danny.

.

The house, Danny had to acknowledge, as they approached the front door, looked haunted. As if some pale, frail, spirit might look out one of the lace-draped windows on the upper floor at any moment. As if there was a Gothic mystery just waiting to unfold. A murder mystery, maybe, full of forbid love and jealous lovers. Or the tale of a sickly heir to a great fortune.

Or that of an ancient ghost and his adopted half-living son.

Even before they stepped inside, Danny's ghost half had decided it loved the building.

The door, as Clockwork opened it, creaked in a loving sort of way, the tone low enough to be comforting instead of annoying. The entrance hall's floorboards did not creak under the weight of the ghosts, but Danny could tell that if a human tried to cross them, they would. He hoped the rest of the floors were like that.

He padded forward, daringly leaving the protection of Clockwork's cloak, examining all the dark nooks and crannies, the odd architectural choices arising from generations of additions, smiling at cold spots. Clockwork shut the door. Even then, there was a draft, curling around his ankles, cool and refreshing.

Danny smiled. It was small and strained, but it was a smile. "It's perfect," he said.

"Don't you want to see your room before you say that?" teased Clockwork.

"Yes," said Danny.

Clockwork led Danny to a staircase with an elaborately carved banister and began to climb. Danny followed eagerly. He had never thought his core would be so happy simply to have somewhere safe to exist.

It almost was enough to let him forget what his parents had done to him. He stopped, hand on his chest.

"Daniel?" said Clockwork. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," said Danny, automatically.

Clockwork frowned, the expression both familiar and foreign on Clockwork's falsely-human face. "Why don't we take a look at that, once we get to your room, alright?"

Danny nodded, swallowing back his irrational fear.

They went up, and Clockwork opened the door to a large room, much larger than the one he had back at Fentonworks. The bed was similarly large and equipped with curtains and enough blankets and pillows to turn it into a nest at a moment's notice. The walls and ceiling were painted a deep blue, with tiny green-white dots picking out a star map. The room also contained a number of carefully curated hiding places, areas where the dressers wardrobe or desk created blind spots and deep shadows. The floor was carpeted, but still icy.

It was an excellent room for a ghost (or half-ghost) like Danny.

He was too nervous to enjoy it.

Clockwork pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat down. It was a little strange to see Clockwork actually sitting and not floating or coiling. Actually-

"Can you have legs in ghost form?" asked Danny.

"I can," said Clockwork. "But typically I don't bother." He patted the bed. "Let's take a look at you."

Danny hesitated, holding his hands clasped in front of his chest. Clockwork's face went soft.

"I just want to make sure you are healing. I know this is difficult, but neither you nor I want things to get worse."

"I'm fine," said Danny. "I heal fast. It was just- It should be gone now. I've gotten worse."

"Is it?" asked Clockwork.

Danny could still feel it. "I don't know," said Danny.

Clockwork patted the bed again. Danny sat down and started fumbling with the hem of his shirt.

"Would you like help?" asked Clockwork.

"No," said Danny. He pulled his sweater off. Taking off his t-shirt was harder. Then there were just Sam's bandages. He bit his lip a the red and brown blotches staining them.

"Would you like to talk about it?" asked Clockwork, taking one end of the bandage and starting to unwind it.

"I don't know," said Danny. "I just- It's so stupid. I shouldn't have- They saw me walk through a door and- They don't even know I'm Phantom. They just-" Danny hiccuped. "They tried to cut me open. They pretended."

Clockwork pulled free the last layer of bandages. The long, shallow cut was still there, straight along his breast bone until the end, where it curved sharply right and tapered off. That was when Danny had jerked free of the restraints and ran.

"Why isn't it healing?" asked Danny.

"It isn't just a physical wound, Daniel. Ghosts are spiritual creatures."

"Oh," said Danny. It made a sick kind of sense. "So my core is really hurt? I thought I was just... That it was in my head."

Clockwork raised a hand to touch the bottom of the cut. "Your parents are important to you, and to your Obsession, your existence as a ghost. Of course their rejection would affect you." The cut began to knit itself together underneath Clockwork's fingers. Danny's core thrummed strangely at the touch. "I can heal your physical injuries."

"But not the mental ones, huh?" said Danny.

"You need time for that," said Clockwork, reaching the top of the cut.

"Good thing I have you, then."

"It is," said Clockwork. He leaned forward and kissed Danny on top of his head.

Danny ran his fingers up and down the newly healed cut. "So my powers aren't going to work until, what, I get over this?"

"That is one possibility," said Clockwork. "But everyone heals differently."

"Can't you tell?" asked Danny, reaching for his shirt.

"The more involved I am in an event, the more difficult it becomes for me to see its future," said Clockwork. "The timeline branches and splinters as I look at it. Also, it may surprise you, but you are fairly difficult to predict on your own."

"Oh," said Danny. He pulled his shirt on, ignoring how it caught on the dried blood on his skin. "So, what now? Should I just, I don't know, hide out here? I mean," he shifted, uncomfortably, "It's fine if I can't let anyone know I'm here, I get that, but I'd like to, um..."

"Live your life?"

Danny flinched. "As much as I can, yeah." He licked his lips. "Sam and Tucker didn't get in trouble, did they? They're fine?" He'd been so wrapped up in how miserable he was, he'd barely spared his friends a second thought, and now that guilt from that rained down on his head.

"They're fine. Due to the circumstances, they haven't gotten in any trouble at all, so stop that."

"What?"

"Feeling guilty. I know for a fact that the safety of others was your first consideration." Clockwork patted his shoulder. "As for your continued presence here on the mortal plane," Clockwork smiled, "would it surprise you to learn that I am in fact registered as a foster parent? I have even had a few children here, although not many stay for long."

"Really?" said Danny. "But... Wait, um. What about- What about Mom and Dad?"

"They were seen shooting at you in public after insisting that you were a ghost. They've been arrested."

Danny swallowed. "Are they going to be alright?"

Clockwork sighed and shifted so that he was sitting on the bed next to Danny. He put an arm around Danny's shoulders. "They'll be fine," he said. "But we should come up with a story about how you wound up here, hm? For the social workers."

.

During Daniel's periodic visits to Clockwork's lair, Clockwork had noted how tactile he was, how much he enjoyed hugs and other physical expressions of affection. After Daniel got past his initial hesitation concerning his new situation, that particular personality trait multiplied.

Clockwork suspected the Fentons were ultimately to blame. Their hostility towards Daniel's ghostly identity and their tendency to carry objects that could hurt Daniel precluded him from seeking comfort from them, and his friends and sister, while very remarkable, were children themselves. Their relationship with Daniel was different.

This meant that Daniel could and would spend long periods of time laying against Clockwork. Usually, he would be doing homework during those moments or talking to Clockwork about various ghostly things that he had never had a chance to learn about before.

Today, however, he was just sitting there, quietly, almost dozing.

"I'm not keeping you from doing things?" asked Daniel, abruptly. "Am I?"

"No," said Clockwork.

"You don't have to do time stuff?"

"I can make duplicates and also time travel. I can be wherever I need to be. But if you want space-"

"No," said Daniel. "This is good." He snuggled closer and startled as a ring of light flashed around his waist. He was, for the first time since before his parents had attacked him, a ghost. Clockwork, in turn, shed his human guise.

Daniel was blinking down at his gloved hands.

"What?" he asked.

"I think you finally relaxed," said Clockwork, ruffling Daniel's hair. The smaller ghost leaned into the touch, purring. "Your transformations might be a bit unpredictable for the next few days."

"Good thing it's a weekend, then, huh?"

.

Danny jittered nervously as he and Clockwork passed through the large, eye-covered doors. This time last week, strange ghosts had been in and out of Clockwork's house, asking questions, poking things, and staring. Clockwork said they were checking to see if everything was in order, if the adoption could become official.

Danny didn't really see why it being official mattered. The Ghost Zone didn't really have a government to speak of. Families that Danny had seen just sort of decided that they were families, and that was that. It seemed important to Clockwork, though, and Clockwork claimed that there were certain benefits, like strengthening connections... Danny didn't get it. Wouldn't their connections be strengthened anyway?

Clockwork guided Danny with small nudges, directing him to a seat in front of the judge, who stared down at them with her one enormous eye.

"I have decided to approve the adoption request regarding Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom," she said.

Danny felt Clockwork relax incrementally beside him. He smiled. The judge's pronouncement felt a little anticlimactic to him, but, well, whatever.

But the judge wasn't done speaking. "The child's familial bond with his biological parents will be severed. The familial bond will be established with his current guardian, known as Clockwork. On all levels legal, physical, metaphysical, metaphorical, emotional, mental, and spiritual, Clockwork will be the sole parent of Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom. Due to the child's status as a liminal spirit, the memories and associations stored in his human brain will not be altered, and he may still experience feelings, especially those of nostalgia, towards his former parents, however, this is expected to fade with time. Questions?"

Danny had rather a lot, actually. Clockwork hadn't quite explained it like this. "Wait, are you saying I'll forget my parents?"

"No," said the judge, in a rather condescending tone.

"You won't forget them," said Clockwork. "But your core won't recognize them as your parents anymore. It's so you'll be able to defend yourself." His tone was almost pleading. "Your relationship with your sister will, of course, be unaffected."

"Okay," said Danny. They clearly didn't see him as their son anymore, so... It wouldn't really change anything. He didn't like the idea of ghosts he didn't know messing around with his core, but he trusted Clockwork. Even if he was apparently really bad at explaining ghost adoption. "What about the other stuff? The physical, metaphysical part?"

"The severed bonds in your core are replaced with ones to your new parent. Similarly, new bonds will be established in your parent's core," explained the judge. "Are you satisfied?"

Clockwork gave Danny an encouraging smile.

"I- Yes. I'm satisfied," said Danny.

"Very well." The judge waved forward a seven armed bailiff who had been waiting in the corner of the room.

The bailiff carried two tall glasses and a large, covered pitcher. He set one glass each in front of Clockwork and Danny and poured a thick, white, faintly glowing liquid into each of them.

"What is it?" asked Danny.

"It is a potion designed to stop our cores from fighting the changes that are about to happen," said Clockwork.

Danny looked at the potion dubiously. "Like an anesthetic?"

"Like an anesthetic," agreed Clockwork. He had already picked up his cup. "Together?"

"Okay," said Danny, still doubtful.

He picked up the cup and brought it to his lips, watching Clockwork carefully over the rim. Clockwork tipped his cup back, and so did Danny.

The potion reminded him a lot of eggnog, except that it was thicker, heavier, sweeter, like it had been mixed with honey. Almost at once, that heaviness settled into Danny's bones, weighing him down, a sensation just to the left of sleep settled over him. He lowered the cup from his face, his grip on it going gentle. The bailiff caught it as it tipped over.

Clockwork reached over and gently, slowly, pulled him close. Then he went as limp as Danny.

Inside, Danny's core became open. Not open, as in vulnerable, but as in receptive. Listening. He felt soft. Malleable. Like someone could press their thumb into him, and it would leave an impression when he hardened again. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation.

The judge sighed with something like disapproval. "So mote it be." She raised a stamp up off her desk, brought it down, and things changed.

Or, at least, Danny did.

.

Clockwork, being the elder ghost, recovered faster from the potion than Daniel. There was no reason to stay at the court, so, after bidding a goodbye to the judge, he picked Daniel up and left, flying a polite distance before opening a portal back to their home outside Amity Park.

He settled Daniel down in his bed, phasing him beneath his covers and tucking him in. Daniel would need to sleep off the potion, as well as take time to adjust to the changes to his psyche, however minor they might be.

"I love you so much," said Clockwork, brushing Daniel's hair out of his face. Getting here had taken subjective years of work and planning but it was worth it, because now Daniel was his child, in every way that mattered.

Forever.

.

.

.

Yes, that ending line was a little bit ominous, but they're ghosts. They wouldn't be happy if it wasn't ominous!

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2020

[microsuedemouse]

last night I had an Absolute Stranger pop up in my notes to be totally hostile out of nowhere about my interpretations of some fictional characters. I took the initiative to block them because they were engaging in bad faith and clearly had no interest in discussing the subject. now they don't have to see my content anymore and everyone wins! but I've been thinking about it ever since, and I wanted to share some thoughts here, with those of you who are reasonable and not just trying to start arguments with people you've never interacted with before. I know that at times I've collected large numbers of young, passionate followers, so I think this is a discussion worth having with anyone who's willing to converse in good faith!

one of the most fundamental truths of how human beings interact with fiction is that every single member of the audience is going to have a different take on the story. if you ask me, this is also one of the most beautiful and interesting things about engaging with other fans of something. everyone is bringing something different to the table when they sit down to read, watch, listen, play, or otherwise take in the tale. everyone is going to have their own context through which to understand the characters and events in the story. when you're dealing with literally anything that isn't expressly stated by the storytelling, you're dealing with interpretation, and there is never only one correct way to interpret a story or character. this just isn't how fiction works.

let me give you a good, clear example of what I mean. several years ago, in one of my university classes, I read Karen Russell's short story St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves. the story is about a group of girls - maybe werewolves, maybe only feral children; it's left somewhat ambiguous - who are taken from their wolf families and re-educated by nuns to be proper young ladies. they're made to sit up straight and cut their wild hair and speak only in human languages, giving up the howling and growling they've used all their lives. it's difficult and unnatural for them. when my prof asked us what the story reminded us of, I was the one who brought up residential schools, and it seemed that a lot of my classmates agreed with me: the similarities were striking, even if Russell hadn't had that in mind. but an autistic classmate of mine had a different comparison to make - to her, the story was uncomfortably reminiscent of the treatment received by many autistic children, being forced to give up everything that comes naturally to them and conform to other people's expectations of their behaviour. both of these reads were completely legitimate.

you don't have to have an english or literature degree to understand this concept. think back to your early experiences writing essays in school, based on a book you'd been assigned to read. think about your teachers telling you: make a point, and then use evidence to convince me. this is one of the most basic ways that we engage with fiction on an academic level. and when it comes to fandom, we don't even have to go that far! while many fans love to put a lot of thought into their interpretations, headcanons, fanfics, meta, and other fanworks, many don't. there are a lot of reasons for this, from wanting to see yourself reflected in the characters you love to simply having fun shaking things up. you don't have to justify your interpretations (or your reinterpretations). you're allowed to play in the sandbox just because it's a good time.

a lot of us, when we really love a story or character, get incredibly passionate about our interpretations. that's normal and understandable. and so, naturally, we're also going to find people whose interpretations fly in the face of our own. but people who disagree with you are not inherently wrong. people are incredibly complex, which means two things: one, real people are going to have all kinds of complex factors affecting how they read a story, and two, there are virtually infinite ways to interpret fictional people when the information you're working with is necessarily limited. when they're working from the same baseline information, two people can have two wildly different understandings of a character and neither of them is objectively more correct than the other.

(this intersects a lot with conversations about coding and authorial intent. both of these are their own huge discussions that I'm not going to get into in detail here. both are important in their own ways, but when you cut down to the bone, the basic truth remains that audience interpretations are still going to go in all directions and that's still allowed. even when you're working exclusively with interpretations that aim to be entirely canon-compliant, neither coding nor authorial intent is the same thing as explicit canon. yes, it's still crappy to erase heavy queer-coding [for example] in media where that's the best representation that creators can offer us; that's a matter of social issues intersecting with fiction, which is another huge discussion of its own. but even what qualifies as 'heavy' coding is going to vary from one audience member to the next.)

for me, this incredible variety of interpretation is one of fandom's greatest strengths! I have made friends with people whose character interpretations are incredibly different from mine, or whose favourite ships are the ones I can't stand, or who hated stories I loved. I think trading these ideas, discussing the differences in our readings of the same subject matter, is so interesting. learning how someone reads a character or storyline, and why they read it that way, is always really illuminating for me! discussing our differing interpretations can be such an interesting way to learn about other people's points of view and broaden your own perspective. I so strongly encourage it. embrace the passion you share, rather than starting arguments about things that ultimately don't have much in the way of impact on your real-world existence. for sure, yeah, block the weirdo who romanticises an abusive ship that gives you the creeps. but when you meet someone who headcanons your favourite character to be a completely different sexuality than you do, or who ships your brotp romantically... there's huge potential there for some really engaging conversations.

this isn't a manifesto. the topic of fan interpretation is enormous, and includes so many smaller discussions, and intersects with so many other issues. I'm not claiming to have covered all the bases here. I just really encourage you all to accept that there are no Objectively Correct Opinions - that's not how opinions work! you know that, I know you do! and when you do come across work that's just so far from your interpretation that you can't stand it... just don't engage. scroll on past. block the poster if you want. no one is making you look at fanwork that you don't like. you are not obligated to interact with the people creating that work in any way. please, for the love of god, curate your own fandom experience. someone doodling fanart for a ship that doesn't jibe with you isn't hurting you. you have the power to remove it from in front of your eyes and go find something else you like better. go engage with things that do interest you!! you will be happier for it!!!

#long post #fandom #Courtney thinks

[curedeity]

From Different Worlds

Summary: the world of Magix is made up of many different peoples, and thise differences are sometimes very, very tangible.

(Aka: what if the winx were actual aliens)

    It was a bright morning, the sun having snuck in through the blinds and forced all the girls awake. Stella was still yawning as she and Bloom padded down to breakfast together.

    “Hey Stella, could you tone it down a bit, the sun’s being super obnoxious today, like you,” Musa sniped as she passed the duo with her tray. Stella pulled a face at her, leaving Bloom in a fit of giggles.

    “That is a misconception of her powers, it's doubtful Stella has the actual power to control the sun,” Tecna pointed out the obvious. “And if she did, Flora would already be begging her for help with her gardening.”

    Flora shrugged innocently, walking over to go sit with Mirta today.

    It was a normal morning, all in all. Fairies pouring into the breakfast hall, slow conversations and sleepy eyes.

    A sun shining brightly in them-

    God, what Bloom wouldn’t give for some shade. Maybe if she stood behind Stella, her shadow would block out the glare-

    Bloom’s eyes flicked down, widening in shock, before she tapped Stella’s shoulder.

    “Huh, what is it hun?” Stella turned around to look at her, one perfect eyebrow cocked.

    “Where’s your shadow?” Bloom whispered.

    Bloom had seen some strange things at her time in Alfea. Magic had become a routine occurrence in her life, just another part of the atmosphere. Yet she had to be dreaming right now.

    “Oh, I don’t have one,” Stella shrugged. As though that was all the explanation needed. Stella was Stella, so she simply didn’t have a shadow.

    Bloom was going to fucking lose it.

    “Almost all Solarians don’t have shadows. It has to do with how their bodies process and emit light,” Tecna explains to the look of confusion on Bloom’s face.

    “Oh yeah, you wouldn’t know that,” Musa mumbled to herself in the background. Bloom was glad some of them were now remembering how batshit this stuff was to her.

    But-

    “That doesn’t make sense.” Bloom dredged through her memories of her middle school science classes. Because Stella’s body was opaque and solid, light wouldn’t pass through it. Therefore, due to the angle of the sun, parts of the ground would end up shaded from where her body blocked the light.

    That’s how things worked.

    “Well, I don’t get how you all have shadows,” Stella waved a hand dismissively.

    “I guess not all of us can be as radiant as you, Princess,” Musa taunted her.

    And the conversation moved on after that, leaving Bloom to just having to accept that some people didn’t have shadows. Because that’s a thing now.

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

    Flora was the best roommate Bloom could’ve asked for. Sure, sometimes her plants ate her homework, but in those cases Flora would help Bloom redo them. And Flora was much better than Bloom at the problems, so it would ultimately raise her grades.

    Or at least, that’s Bloom thought. The day her opinion was challenged was after one of Griselda’s classes. They had spent two whole hours practicing a litany of spells, and Stella was the only one of the Winx in the class with her. 

    Griselda hadn’t let them off easily afterwards either, piling them high with homework to complete over the weekend.

    Bloom was exhausted by the time she returned to her room, her bag digging into her shoulder. She swung open the door with a little shout to announce her presence, and stumbled on in, ready to drop her bag on the floor, then drop herself onto her bed.

    Her attention was captured, however, by Flora. Who was sitting on her bed. And eating dirt right out of a flower pot.

    She ate it like popcorn, squeezing it in between her fingers and tossing it into her mouth. She wasn’t even focused on that, rather she was doing her homework. It was… casual.

    Flora looked up with a soft smile directed towards Bloom, as she did every time Bloom entered their shared room. “How were your classes Bloom?” She inquired, as she popped even more dirt into her mouth.

    “You know, you know you’re eating dirt, right?” Bloom couldn’t stop herself from asking. This had to be a mistake made from lack of sleep. Flora must’ve been reaching for the bag of chips they kept on the counter for studying snacks, and accidently grabbed one of the many, many flower pots instead.

    “Yeah, it’s specially made to taste like cotton candy! My sister sent it to me as a treat. Would you like to try some?” Flora offered, sticking the pot out in Bloom’s direction.

    “No, thank you,” Bloom managed to respond, giving up on the conversation entirely and flopping down onto her bed.

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

    Classes at Alfea didn’t tend to run on any curriculum Bloom could understand. While there were vague outlines for the subjects, it seemed like the teachers could give any lesson, and if they had even the vaguest justification Griselda wouldn’t stop them.

    Which, Bloom supposed, was how they had ended up learning about sea creatures in Professor Paladium’s class. 

    Living in the same dorm as Aisha, Bloom had already learned a fair deal about the variety of species that lived in Magix’s seas. Flora, Aisha and Tecna could get into long discussions about the biodiversity and importance of them. It seemed to be one of the few commonalities between the many planets of Magix.

    When Bloom first thought of magical sea creatures, her thoughts were filled with ideas of Krakens and Sirens, Kelpies and so much more. And while there were some very odd creatures out there that made her fantastical heart scream with joy, there were also many that were similar or the same as those found on Earth.

    “Dolphins are quite majestic creatures. They eat a variety of other fish in the seas, making them quite the predator. In fact, they even have quite the complex language, made up of calls, whistles and clicks,” Professor Palladium lectured them, spreading his hands out in grandiose gestures, a picture of a dolphin on the whiteboard behind him.

    “It would be helpful if you could all hear them communicate then. Oh, Musa, could you demonstrate for us?” Professor Palladium clapped his hands together as Bloom tried to piece that sentence together in her mind.

    Before she could even give it a cursory thought, a series of inhuman noises filled the room.

    Bloom jerked around wildly, her eyes landing on Musa.

    Who had her mouth open.

    And was emitting those eldritch calls.

    Like- like a fucking. Dolphin.

    “Fantastic demonstration Musa, now, each dolphin has their own individual name…” Professor Palladium’s class droned on as Bloom sat at her desk, reconsidering the existence of reality itself.

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

    Bloom had never played many video games. Consoles were expensive, and she spent most of her free time drawing or reading. It had been during her first week at Alfea that she had been hanging out in Musa and Tecna’s room, doing her nails, that she had paused to watch Tecna play.

    Bloom had entertained herself by sketching the wild scenes, a mash of movement and color of the fast-moving games Tecna played. After a few days, Tecna had offered the controller to Bloom while she had gone to grab a few snacks. She had returned to Bloom having died a dozen times.

    Video games were not Bloom’s forte, and she often came in last during Winx Game Night. The few times Stella got worse scores than her, Bloom was 99% sure Stella did so on purpose so Bloom wouldn’t feel bad.

    It was fun though, to watch Tecna obliterate Timmy in every game they played. They were a quite competitive duo, and Tecna had no qualms about crushing them in virtual combat.

    It wasn’t until the specialists had joined them for their game night that Bloom had realized Tecna and Timmy made an even more terrifying team. After that, Tecna and Timmy were no longer allowed to partner together during these games.

    Bloom had to admit, she was a bit jealous that Tecna could maintain her decent grades while spending so much of her time goofing off.

    That’s why it was odd when, during one of their long weekends with little homework, Bloom entered Tecna’s room to find her not playing video games but rather opening a package.

    “Whatcha got there?” Bloom asked, peeking over Tecna’s shoulder curiously. It was a fact of life that privacy was different when they all lived together. They were expected to knock on doors before entering any room, not to eat each other’s snacks, and not go through each other’s cabinets. Anything else was fair game.

    “It’s a new controller that was just released on Zenith, I ordered one to test it out. It has new technology that should improve response time, which will make it easier to shoot Timmy before they shoot me,” Tecna explained, grinning all the while. Tecna’s grins were small, just a tiny upturn of the mouth, a twitch of movement. Barely any warning before she destroyed all your plans.

    Bloom watched as Tecna pulled out what looked like a small half orb. A cord dangled from the base, and Tecna plugged it into her laptop.

    “Uh, how does that work?” Bloom couldn’t see any buttons on it, and it couldn’t spin…

    “Oh, I release a certain amount of electrical data that this controller interprets and uses for it’s commands. I just have to hold it and have the right instincts.” Tecna’s attention was more on loading a new game than talking to Bloom.

    Bloom had been at Alfea for a year and a half now. She just left the room.

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

    Bloom had used to love summer, school was stifling and getting to sit outside all day and draw the scenery really was her passion. But now, her feelings on it had become more bittersweet. Every year it was hard to readjust to the routine with her parents after spending so long with the Winx. No more late nights throwing popcorn at Flora’s plants, or getting her makeup put on by Stella in the mornings.

    It wasn’t bad, she missed her parents dearly while she was at Alfea, but there would always be pieces of her scattered at both places.

    They still saw each other over the summer. Stella would take her out for shopping at Magix, and Flora stopped by the shop to help out her mother. Musa got concert tickets for all of them, and Tecna had a server set up so they could always text and play games together.

    Aisha, for her part, had invited them all out for a beach day.

    Bloom rubbed sunscreen onto Tecna’s back while Stella just laughed at the duo. It was unfair that Stella couldn’t get sunburn, when she could burn easily through other means. Bloom stuck her tongue out at the laughing girl.

    Musa had gone off to get them surfboards, given Aisha had promised to teach them all. The other two were already in the water, laughing as they splashed water at one another.

    Bloom stood up, giving her own sunscreened body a once over to make sure she had got everywhere. Stella was already dashing for the water, only a cursory cry of warning that gave neither other any time to move out of the way before Stella cannonballed between them. 

    The water showered over them, Aisha just laughing as she playfully promised to get Stella back, and Flora coughing as she tried to rid her lungs of the excess water. Bloom paddled in and rubbed her back.

    “Sorry Flora!” Stella shouted before returning to her banter with Aisha. 

    “I’m ok,” Flora smiled at Bloom, clearing her throat once more.

    Bloom returned her brilliant smile. “We’ll have to plan a retaliation.”

    Flora nodded, “Most definitely.”

    Bloom’s attention was drawn back to the argument at a splash of water, Aisha was already gone by the time she looked over, only a shadow under the water, and she watched as Aisha pulled Stella down with her.

    “I think Aisha might’ve given her enough actually,” Flora admitted, and Bloom had to give her that.

    She watched her two friends reemerge, hair soaked and Stella whining. Her attention was almost caught by the way Stella’s hair glowed in the sun, before her eyes noted a rippling on Aisha’s neck.

    There, closing back into layers of skin, were gills.

    Alright, so one of her friends had gills. That’s fine. This is fine. 

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

    Bloom’s parents had always known she was a strange kid since the day Mike brought her home, but sometimes that oddity was really hammered in. It was only now, with the context that Bloom was basically an alien child, that the two sat at the dinner table and began reconsidering all those incidents.

    “Remember that time Bloom got stuck in that walk-in freezer while we were chaperoning one of her school trips?” Vanessa added in to the litany of memories.

    “I don’t want to remember that was terrifying!” Mike shivered. “But then I opened up the door and she was completely fine other than a bit annoyed.”

    “I guess we were too relieved to think properly about that, huh?” Vanessa teased.

    Mike sighed. “What about that time we went camping and were making s’mores and Bloom just held the marshmallow in her hand and stuck it into the fire.” The anxiety Mike had felt in that moment bled into his tone, now mixed with the resignation of time.

    “Oh yeah! That’s why we never went camping again,” Vanessa mused.

    Bloom had been a very strange kid, but they’d loved her all the same. Maybe it would do some good to check in with one of the other fairies and see if all this should be considered normal though, just in case. They were responsible parents after all.

#fanfic #fanfiction #winx club #the winx #all the girls appear in this #just a group fic #from different worlds #alien!winx #listen i just had a ton of fun writing this #destroying blooms sanity yknow #swearing #hope you enjoy!

[the-swedes-knees]

Human Resources - The Swedes x Reader

Did I make a tumblr just to post a birthday present for @jossambird? Yes, yes I did.

Rating: Everyone 

Pairing: Reader/Swede(pick your favorite)

It had started like any other work day at the Temps Commission. The case management room was silent aside from the rapid clicking of typewriter keys and the rustling of papers as employees cross checked their historical references. You were just another cog in the machine, expected to work efficiently and follow every rule in the handbook down to the letter.

Which is why it was a surprise when your supervisor placed the summons to HR on your desk.

"Cheryl." You greeted the HR representative coldly as you entered the meeting room. She glared at you as you went to take a seat, not even bothering to say your name. There wasn't a clear reason why she had been gunning for you the past few months but you suspected that it had something to do with the last company Christmas party. Or rather the point in the Christmas party when she had become dangerously intoxicated and you had walked her back to her living quarters instead of letting her fulfill her desires of making thinly veiled sexual innuendos to coworkers.

One might assume that kind of story would lead to a friendship, or at least a funny story to laugh about together...  

"Do you know why you're here?" But apparently Cheryl didn't think so. When you crossed your arms and shook your head no she let out a catty hiss of disapproval. "Well this shouldn't be a shock, but I've opened up a sexual harassment investigation against you."

Your face hardened and your eyes shot to the folder that was placed in front of you, identical to the one infront of her and three more like it on the opposite side of the table.

"That can't be right... who - " The end of your question died on your lips as the three temporal assassins entered the room and sat down at the table across from you. Almost in perfect unison the three tall Swedish men regarded your presence before turning their attention to the woman at the head of the table.

Axel, Otto, and Oscar. More commonly referred to as simply The Swedes. You had handled a fair number of their cases in your career, and they were certainly some of the best the Commission had to offer. They were all handsome in their own right. Strong, stoic, and silent... but you had only admired them from afar, just sparing glances in passing through the massive building complex.

You weren't sure what drew you to them, like a moth to a flame. But just those sparing glances had ruined any other romantic prospects for you.

"Thank you for coming. I'm aware how busy the three of you are, but this matter simply demands to be addressed." She said smugly before turning back to you and opening the manila envelope that was placed perfectly perpendicular to her.

"In recent case number A-96353 you wrote an extra message to the Swedes that was not approved by your supervisor. Is this correct?" Cheryl asked your pointedly.

"Yes." You admitted, squaring your shoulders a little bit more as the reality of the current situation began to dawn on you.

"For the record, can you please recount what that message was?" She asked. You took a deep breath and kept your eyes focused on her. There was an evident threat of heat creeping up to your cheeks, but if this was some sort of weird power play, you didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

"I believe I wrote 'good luck boys' on the bottom of their assignment." You admitted in an even tone.

"Is that all?"

"I may have also drawn a small heart." You said through slightly gritted teeth. "I've already received infractions for that offense. It won't happen again."

You turned your body to face the three men, and bowed your head slightly in shame. Even though you had gone through getting slapped on the wrist and mandatory behavioral classes for not following protocol, it wasn't their fault that your attraction to them had led to your immature urge to flirt on the job. Even if the flirt was hardly a flirt, and it was sent via tube with a kill order.

"I apologize, for my unprofessionalism." You said sincerely, beginning to rise from your seat to leave this waste of everyone's time.

"Well there is also the case of these little locker room comments."

"I-I don't know what you're referring to." You froze as she sifted through her folder, placing her pen on the page as she began to read a section of notes verbatim.

"He could punch me in the face and I would thank him for it." She read with as much enthusiasm as a young fast food worker making minimum wage. Your heart throbbed in your chest wildly as you stared at Cheryl in disbelief. "Does that sound familiar?"

"Yes..." You croaked out softly, all moisture seeming to have left your mouth. Your eyes darted to look down at your lap, your fingernails suddenly much more interesting than the three assassins that were openly staring at your from across the table. The sound of rustling papers caught your ears as the men began to read through the reports for themselves, but suddenly you couldn't seen to move a muscle.

There was no telling who had overheard that particular comment from the water cooler, but it was just one comment... If you could shake off this terrible sense of dread and embarrassment you could chalk it up to a simple misunderstanding -

"Time and date 0923845753: I would pay him to crush my pelvis." She continued to read from the file in front of her in a monotone voice. In potentially the dumbest reaction possible your eyes darted across the table and made direct eye contact with Axel as the comment was read. His face was unreadable, but those blue eyes pierced into you so deeply you may has well have died right on the spot.

"Time and date 0202493192: God must be a woman to make men that fine." You decided that there was no God, if there was then he or she or whatever omnipotent being they were would have pity on your soul and allow your body to combust into flames instead of sitting there.

"Time and date 0221527010: He can break all two-hundred and seven of my bones." There was no blood left in your face, you were sure of it. It pulsed rapidly and loudly through your thudding heart and directly into your ears. Your brain couldn't pick between being embarrassed or downright mortified, a violent chill settling into your bones as the startling realization settled over you... this was the end... your life was over... just because you found the three men a few feet away from you devilishly handsome and you couldn't keep your damn horny mouth shut.

"Time and date 0940251637: I would let him step on my throat."

"Oh that one was actually-" You held up a finger to correct that that particular comment was made by your friend in payroll whom which you shared a similar horny braincell, but quickly decided against it. "You know what, I'll take responsibility for all of them... there's really no need to keep reading."

"For the case of this investigations, were all of these inappropriate comments directed at an individual or a collective?"

"It was, it was um... all. All of them."

"Any one of these comments could be classified as a serious offense, and you are in clear violation of several company policies." Her words barely registered in the haze that set in around you. This was it, your life was ruined... you were dead, and this was hell, it had to be... "And if they agree to follow through, I can have you fired by-"

The sound of metal screeching as Axel stood up from his seat silenced the HR representative. All three brothers shared a quick look before Otto and Oscar stood as well, tossing the files that had been placed before them back onto the table sloppily. Otto's eyes were glued to yours as Axel slightly shook his head at the woman at the end of the table.

"Byråkratisk skitsnack." He sneered before walking past you to leave the room. You had no idea what it meant, but from the offended gasping noise Cheryl made, you were sure she did. The other two men followed their brother shortly after, Oscar making teasing kissing faces at you as he exited through the door.

What just happened?

Both you and HR sat in a moment of stunned silence, obviously this meeting hadn't gone the way either of you expected. With the Swedes gone, you found the courage and sense of self determination to look at the woman again. You raised an eyebrow and looked behind you at the doorway, silently asking if this meant you could leave.

"One more slip up and I'll file for your termination, clear?" As much as you wanted to think of a snappy comeback to the woman who had just lost all the power she wrongly thought she had, your flight or fight response was still in full gear and you suddenly forgot all that was the English language. All you did was bite your bottom lip and nod before slowly rising from the chair and returning back to work.

Curious coworkers asked throughout the day if you were alright, the sense of dread still clawing at your heart at the utter humiliation that you had received... but there was no one to blame but yourself, you probably got what you deserved for making such comments in a professional environment. You briefly considered taking a vow of silence, never to speak again in penance for your sins.

The vow ended rather quickly after Dot offered you treats from her candy stash in an attempt to lighten your mood.

Everything will go back to normal, just don't think about them... ever again... You obsessively chanted to yourself while staring blankly at the copier and munching on your third candy bar. The mechanical machine whirred loudly as it spit out page after page of references that were needed for your current case. It was so loud, in fact, that you weren't aware that another person had entered the room until you felt a sharp pinch on your ass.

You suppressed the urge to scream as you jumped back, mind now alert as you whipped around to see the culprit.

Now standing a few feet away was one of the very same men with platinum blond hair that you were trying so actively to purge out of your mind. You had never admitted it to anyone else out loud, but secretly you did favor one brother more than the others... the slight mannerisms and the way that he held himself causing many obsessive dreams on lonely nights.

And here he was... alone... the closest he has ever been.

"Hi." You greeted dumbly, not even confident enough to say his name. Your eyes flickered from the ground back to his face before holding out your chocolate. "Kit-kat?"

His face remained neutral as he reached out and broke off a section from the bar, eyeing you up and down more properly than before.

"You know my name." He remarked before biting the chocolate wafer in half and slightly gestured his chin towards you. "Yours?"

You told him, a bit surprised that he didn't seem to know it after that disaster of a confrontation. Had he not read through the accusations? Or if you were such an unnoteworthy person to him, why was he here... talking to you?

He's going to kill you, you pervert.

"Do you eat?" Just as you were preparing to plea pathetically for your life, you were instead caught completely offguard. Confusion overtook you as your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to understand the question.

"Eat? You mean like... eat food?" You asked slowly, mind going completely blank as you watched him pop the rest of the wafer in his mouth and chew slowly. Even with something so small, your knees were going weak at the close proximity. You shook your head gently to refocus, dangerous thoughts like these were what got you into trouble in the first place. "Um, I guess? Yes?"

"Good. Six o'clock, pervers." He declared firmly with a stony expression before turning to walk away. Unintelligent noises of sputtering and half words left your mouth as you moved to walk with him, keeping a bit of a distance as you held your copies tightly against your chest.

"Six o'clock what?"

"You eat dinner, with me. Or I step on your neck, your choice." He said casually, eyes keeping straight ahead as he spoke... almost ignoring that you were even there.

"What? Where? Why?" Even though you were trying to whisper as you paced through the hall, your voice was rising in octaves as each question left your lips with little filter. He stopped his long stride abruptly, inadvertently causing you to flinch as he turned back to look at you. The slightest ghost of a smile toyed at his lips as he stared you down like a hunter with eyes on its game. You remained as still as humanly possible as he leaned down to speak in your ear.

"I will find you."

You watched him turn around once again and strut down the hallway like a man on a mission while you stood there, mouth gaping like a goldfish. He was coming for you, that much was certain... There was no where or time that you could possibly hide from the not-so-secret item of your affection.

Should you be horny or terrified?

Both. You decided. Both sounded good.

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