#he has a particular set of skills your honour

[tainkirrahe]

I know he probably had his minions do it for him but I far prefer the headcanon that Tenna programmed the ROM hack of Legend of Tenna himself whilst also not knowing what an email is

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 12th of May, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 12th of May, 2024

Question: What does Harry want from this Nigerian visit?

Interpretation: He wants to use it to makes things go back the way they used to be, and he wants to be the centre of attention.

Card One: Death in reverse

Death is a card of change, of moving from one state to another with no way to go back, of letting go of things. In the reverse, it is someone who does not want to change, who is not letting go of things, who is repeating negative patterns, and who wants to return to a previous state.

Death is the card of Scorpio, and King Charles is a sun sign Scorpio, so I am taking this card as referring to King Charles in particular as well as things in general.

The energy of this card is of someone who does not want things to change, who wants to go back to the way things used to be. Harry does not want his position and privileges to change. He would like very much to go back to being treated as he was treated when he was a working royal. I hear the words 'I want to go home', but 'home' is the days of Hero Harry and being the most popular royal. Harry can't return to those days - he has shown us too clearly what he is really like for that to happen - but he wants to go back to those days.

With respect to The King, Harry wants to go back to the days when honours were set aside for him and given to him, when houses were provided for him, when he was included as a member of the BRF. He wants his father to treat him the way he used to, not like he is doing now, e.g. giving military honours to Prince William and not to Harry. I know and you know that Harry lost all that when he left the BRF, but it appears that Harry did not know this, and he honestly thought he could go and be a 'private citizen' and still have military honours awarded to him by the King, keep his houses and his patronages, etc. He wants to go back to those days and there is a lot of puzzlement coming through as to why they are not happening any more. He can't understand what he did to be punished in this way (he views the lack of more military honours, free housing etc as a punishment). In his mind, all he did was tell the truth, just like he had always been told to do, so why is he being punished for it?

With respect to the Nigeria visit, I think that Harry is desperately trying to show his father that he can behave like a royal, so please won't you let me back in to the BRF as a working royal with all my old perks and privileges?

Card Two: The Three of Pentacles in reverse

The Three of Pentacles is about teamwork, three or more people working together to achieve a goal, putting in the effort to make something. In the reverse, it is someone who is not a team player, who is in competition with those around them, driven by their ego, and/or lacks any motivation to do any hard work.

The energy coming from this card, very strongly, is 'not a team player'. Harry wants to be seen as unique and special, not part of a crowd (or a team) but as the leader, the inspiration, the one everyone looks up to. He also has no intention of putting in any hard work, preferring to sit back and let others do that for him.

Harry wants this trip to show what a unique, special, and inspirational person he is, and how he deserves a special place set above everyone else just because of who he is naturally. He wants to be treated as someone special. The energy from the card hints that this goal has been accomplished and Harry is satisfied with his reception in Nigeria - it has highlighted how wonderful he is to his satisfaction (it could have been better, of course, but he is not upset with what he was given).

Card Three: The Eight of Pentacles, in reverse

The Eight of Pentacles is the apprentice card. It is about gaining mastery, learning and honing your skills, having high standards for yourself and others and striving to meet them. In the reverse, it is about being lazy, not learning and not honing your skills, wasting your talents, a rushed job/poor quality goods, having little or no motivation to improve yourself, mediocrity.

The energy from this card is that of laziness. So much laziness. Harry does not want to work, he does not want to learn, he does not want to improve himself. He is mediocre at best and sub standard at worst but he thinks he is top quality and perfectly OK exactly the way he is.

Harry did not want to do any work at all for this visit. He was happy to turn up and be praised and admired, but there was never any intention of putting any effort into it. He does not want to learn about the country, the people, their problems - he does not want to know about it. He wants to turn up for a few things and be admired and praised. He doesn't want people to expect him to work or do anything that involves making an effort.

Card Four: The Pages of Wands

Pages are messages, Wands can be PR, upright is good news. Harry wants good PR from this trip. He wants glowing media reports on whatever he does or doesn't do. He wants fawning, bootlicking, over-the-top sugary articles about how wonderful he is and how much he is loved and what an inspiration he is, and if he gets that he will be happy.

Underlying Energy: The Sun in reverse

The Sun card is about optimism, success, everything going right, warmth, being the golden child (as Apollo, on the card, is the favoured son of Zeus), joy, confidence, vitality. In the reverse it is about not being the golden child, pessimism, things not going right, depression, sadness. It can also be being conceited or being over-optimistic.

The energy from this card is of someone who absolutely wants to be the centre of attention and have people fawning over him where ever he goes. It is either a message from the universe that Harry is being over-optimistic in what he wants from this visit, or it is that Harry wants to be conceited, he wants to be bombastic and talk on and on and on while people around him are smothering their yawns, he wants to be surrounded by yes -men who will pander to his conceits.

The Sun is the card of The Sun, the ruling planet of Leo, and Meghan is a sun-sigh Leo. This card is not about Meghan, though. It is about Harry. In astronomy, The Sun is your self, your ego, your core values etc. The less evolved aspects of The Sun involve being arrogant, conceited, egotistic, full of yourself, demanding all the attention be on you, etc, and this appears to be exactly how Harry wants to behave on this visit - and to get approval for it, as The Sun card can also be about other people approving of you and saying yes to you.

Conclusion:

Harry wants four things from this trip to Nigeria. He wants to be lazy, i.e. not asked to do any work, he wants to be treated as someone special and inspirational, he wants glowing PR, and he wants to show his father that he can behave like a royal so he will be let back into the BRF and everything will be the way it used to be. The 'back in the family' ask is the underlying motive, the other three are things that he wants all the time.

Underneath all this is a need to be conceited and self absorbed and have people agree with him, to display the traits of ego, arrogance, demand all the attention etc and have everyone just smile and not just go along with it, but actively pander to him. If he gets all this from the Nigeria trip then he will consider it a success.

[morri-draws]

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 4

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 2,431

Read Chapter 1

Read Chapter 2

Read Chapter 3

Read on Ao3

The next morning, you wait for Gwaine’s arrival. The more time passes with no sign of him still, the more restless you become, until you decide it’s time you checked on him. You leave your chambers and ask a guard for direction to the knights’ quarters.

Upon entering the wing of the castle where the inner circle of knights are housed, you overhear raised voices. You follow the sound to a particular door and, hearing them clearer now, recognise the voices as belonging to Gwaine and his sister Erika.

“I should have realised she wasn’t a lady by the way she was dressed. Why would you introduce her as such when she’s just the clothier?” Erika says.

“In an attempt to avoid the exact kind of behaviours you’re now displaying!” Gwaine responds.

“I don’t understand why you are insistent on paying your attentions to a mere seamstress. You are a knight. You should be looking higher,”

“I don’t measure a person’s worth by what family they belong to, what seal they carry!”

“Well you should! You may have slipped into bad habits during the years you acted like a vagrant, but you are now a knight of the king of Camelot’s inner circle. You have standards to uphold to honour your family and your king!”

Gwaine laughs humourlessly. “King Arthur does not hold me to ridiculous standards – he would be a hypocrite if he did. It may have escaped your notice, Erika, but the queen of Camelot was a servant when Arthur married her,”

Erika gives no response and footsteps head toward the door. You step away quickly, striding back down the passage you came from, but the footsteps follow, and you hear Gwaine call your name. You turn around and force a smile.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

“I was coming to see if you were alright. I’ve been waiting for you in my chambers,”

Gwaine runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I’m sorry, it’s just… you didn’t hear any of that, did you?”

You grimace, not wanting to lie to him. “I didn’t hear much,”

He tilts his head back, flustered. “My sister has an unpleasant way of thinking,” He meets your eyes. “You mustn’t think for a moment that I reflect her views,”

“You made it quite clear that you don’t,”

He gives the smallest smile, before clapping his hands together. “Well, we mustn’t let her ruin our day. Are you ready to go?”

“I’ll just fetch my cloak, then we can head out,”

At the stables, three horses are ready to go – one each for you and Gwaine to ride, and one to carry the picnic items. You mount up and ride out for about twenty minutes before you arrive in a grassy clearing in the edge of the forest. It’s a pretty spot with colourful wildflowers scattered amongst the grass.

You dismount and help Gwaine spread out blankets on the grass and lay out the various fruits, nuts, cheeses, breads and pastries.

“This is wonderful, Gwaine,” You smile as you sit down. “A fine selection of food and a beautiful location,”

“I’m glad you like it,” He sits across from you and smiles, but he doesn’t meet your eye. He seems distracted.

“Are you thinking about your sister?” You ask.

“We shouldn’t talk about her,” He says, reaching for a handful of almonds.

“A burden shared is a burden halved,”

He sighs, rubbing his face. “I just don’t understand why she’s come to Camelot,” He looks off into the distance, clearly not planning to elaborate any further.

“What did she mean when she said you acted like a vagrant?” You ask.

“It’s not exactly a nice story. We should be speaking of pleasant things,”

“But that would be shallow, when I know you are troubled,”

Gwaine picks up a shiny red apple and tosses it in the air, before catching it and taking a bite, the loud crunch seeming to bounce through the clearing.

“Alright, if you really want to know,” He takes another bite, chews it and swallows. “My father was a knight, serving King Caerleon. One day, he was killed in battle and my grieving mother went to the king for help. For all my father’s years of loyal service, the king gave nothing in return. He turned my mother away and soon after the money was running out. Our lives changed. No longer were we a respected noble family. We all had to find work, we sold the estate… people we once thought were friends pretended that we didn’t exist. I couldn’t stand to stay a moment longer than I had to, so once my mother and sister were in a stable position, I left. I travelled all over, taking odd jobs where I could find them. I spent a lot of time in taverns drinking, gambling and brawling. I got into a lot of fights, it’s honestly a miracle I don’t at least have a broken nose,” His mouth quirks up with the hint of a smirk. “I suppose I always did make sure to protect my face. It is my best feature after all,”

“It isn’t your best feature,”

He looks taken aback. “You wound me, my lady,”

“No, please, I don’t mean that,” You shake your head. “You have a very nice face. But there is so much more to you than your looks. You look out for others, have a kind heart, and one should never underestimate the power of laughter. We must cherish those who make us smile,”

You glance up at Gwaine, hoping you haven’t said too much, or the wrong thing. His gaze remains cast down, twirling a fork between his fingers.

“You certainly know how to make a man blush,” He says. “And quite speechless,” He puts the fork down and pulls himself up to stand. “I’ll be back in a moment,”

He strides across the clearing and disappears into the tree line. Realising that he perhaps is answering a call of nature, you turn your attention back to the food, picking at some of the fruits and nuts. Your eyes drift closed and you lean back, appreciating the gentle breeze against your skin, like a most tender caress. At the soft crunch of grass underfoot, you open your eyes again to see Gwaine returning. He kneels beside you and passes you a handful of freshly picked wildflowers.

You smile. “What are these for?”

“Just something pretty for my lady, who is lovely inside and out,”

He reaches forward, his hand ever so slightly brushing against yours as he plucks one of the flowers from your grasp, and carefully tucks it behind your ear. Your eyes meet, your face feeling very warm, and you glance at his lips. In that moment, you imagine closing the gap between you, pressing your mouth to his, how it might feel to do so… but you resist the urge. You haven’t known long and don’t want to give the wrong impression. So you lower your gaze, away from his tantalizing lips.

“Do you ever miss your old nomadic lifestyle?” You ask.

He shifts into a sitting position. “No, I don’t. Things are better for me now. I still get to travel around as a knight, patrolling and questing. But I’m not alone anymore. I have friends, brothers in arms, and we do good things, helping people, protecting those who cannot protect themselves,”

“I’m glad you found a place to belong,”

“What about you?” Gwaine asks. “Do you ever miss your old shop?”

“No,” You reply. “Business was so inconsistent. I went hungry some days. Some clients were extremely rude, especially older men who didn’t know how to keep their hands to themselves,”

Gwaine scowls. “Well you don’t have to deal with that anymore. But if it ever were to happen, tell me or Arthur straight away and we’ll sort it out,”

“I don’t think the king would be bothered with such a trifle,”

“He would,” Gwaine says seriously. “I might have a poor view of nobles as a whole, but Arthur’s one of the better ones,”

“He sounds like a king you’d be proud to serve,”

“I am. Don’t get me wrong, he can be an absolute prat sometimes, but overall, he’s a good man,”

You laugh at his insult. “A prat, you say? How so?”

“Mainly just how he treats Merlin. He’s a good friend,”

“I didn’t know that you two were friends,” You grin. “I like Merlin,”

Gwaine smiles. “Yeah, he’s a good man,”

Gwaine continues by telling the story of how he and Merlin met, and subsequent adventures they had together, your fondness for each man growing as you listen.

“We’ve got each other’s backs,” He concludes, glancing up at the sky. “Speaking of having each other’s back, Percival covered for me today at morning training, but I’ll need to return in time for afternoon training. We should get ready to head back,”

You help pack everything up, any remaining food returned to one of the saddlebags, half of which you will be taking back to your chambers for dinner. The plates and eating utensils go in the other saddlebag and you help each other to fold up the blankets, strapping them to the saddle too.

Once everything is secured on the pack horse, you both mount up and head back to the castle, Gwaine taking you on a slightly different route so you can pass through another area which he finds pleasant. You stop briefly when you arrive at the spot, remaining on horseback, taking in the surroundings: the dappled shade from the trees, the birdcalls from the branches above and the babbling of the stream.

“Maybe we could come here next time,” Gwaine smiles from beside you.

“I would like that,”

You ride on until you see a small village in the distance, plumes of smoke swirling in the sky from numerous chimneys. Suddenly, your horse rears and you cling to the reins for dear life. You hear a high pitched scream and spot a child fall over on the side of the road. Once your horse has all four feet planted firmly on the ground again, you dismount and rush to the child.

“Are you hurt?” You ask, placing a gentle hand on the child’s arm.

It’s a little girl, no more than six years old. Her chest heaves. “No… I’m alright,”

In the corner of your eye, you spot Gwaine dismount as well, approaching you and the girl.

“You’re safe now, little one. I’m afraid my horse got spooked. I didn’t see you crossing the road, otherwise I would have stopped,”

“It’s alright, miss,” The girls says, pulling herself up to stand, her hair a straggly mess.

“What is your name?” You ask.

“Flora,”

“Nice to meet you, Flora. My name is (Y/N). Do you think you could show us the way to your home?”

“Of course I can, but,” She eyes the horses behind you. “We don’t have to ride them do we?”

“No, we don’t have to,” Gwaine says, smiling at the girl. “We can all walk together,”

Flora leads you up the muddy road, stopping outside the door of a house at the far end of the village. She fumbles with the doorhandle, it only just within her reach, when the door swings ajar, revealing a woman with a crying toddler on her hip. Her eyes first flick between you and Gwaine, then down to the child.

“Where have you been Flora? I hope you remembered to check the snares and weren’t just playing about,”

“No rabbits today,” Flora says sadly.

The mother looks back at you and Gwaine. “I hope she hasn’t been causing you any trouble,”

“No trouble at all,” You reply, at a louder volume than usual to be heard over the toddler’s crying. “I’m afraid my horse frightened her when we came through. I just wanted to make sure Flora got home safely,”

“Is the little one alright?” Gwaine asks, gesturing toward the younger child.

The mother bounces the child on her hip. “He’s just hungry,”

“We’re all hungry here,” Flora says.

“Quiet, Flora. We don’t need to be telling strangers about our troubles,”

“Do you not have any food?” Gwaine asks.

The mother urges Flora inside the house and turns back. “If you must know, my husband has an injured back and can hardly work the field anymore. The children are too young to help and we can’t afford to hire help,”

Her voice is tinged with despair, her eyes glazed. Your heart aches for her and you wonder at what can be done when you remember the left-over picnic food in the saddlebags. You excuse yourself and return to the horses to retrieve it. Realising what you’re doing, Gwaine joins you, carrying what you can’t, and you both return to the house.

“It’s not much,” You say to Flora’s mother. “But we don’t need it. You and your family need not be hungry tonight,”

Speechless, she steps aside and you and Gwaine enter the house, stepping into a modest kitchen with a small table. You place the foodstuffs down on the table and Flora approaches with curiosity.

“I don’t know what to say,” The mother says from behind you.

“You don’t need to say anything,” You turn to look at her. “I wish there was more I could do,”

“You’ve done plenty,” She replies, voice thick with emotion. “I will not forget this kindness… but I don’t even know your names,”

“I’m (Y/N),” You reply. “And this is Gwaine,” You gesture to your companion.

“We’re glad to help,” Gwaine smiles.

The ride back to the castle passes quickly, as your thoughts are filled with the family in the village. You hope that good fortune will fall upon them to help them out of their current situation, for you don’t know what else can be done. Perhaps you could check in now and then and bring some food for them?

Gwaine escorts you back to your chambers, stopping once you reach your door. He looks at you, hands behind his back.

“Thank you Gwaine, I had a lovely time,”

“As did I,” He replies with a smile.

He reaches for your hand and gently takes it in his, bringing it up to his face, and planting a soft kiss at the base of your fingers.

“I hope you have a pleasant rest of your day,”

He lets go of your hand and backs away, keeping eye contact for a moment before turning to walk down the passage, disappearing from view.

[meli-r]

I thought of writing this today, as a supposed memory Makishima has after Choe dies. Sorry it's short, I'm not good at writing when I do it on the same day.

PS: it's Shakespeare's sonnet 66.

*****

Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry,

As, to behold desert a beggar born,

And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,

And purest faith unhappily forsworn,

And gilded honour shamefully misplac'd,

And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,

And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd,

And strength by limping sway disabled,

And art made tongue-tied by authority,

And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,

And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,

And captive good attending captain ill.

Tir'd with all these, from these would I be gone,

Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.

With one leg crossed over the other, Makishima Shougo closed the book on his slim thigh, covered by a pristine beige suit. He sighed and momentarily raised his eyebrows as he looked out toward the horizon. The wind played with his long white hair, which fell in soft waves over his shoulders, and the last rays of sunlight merged with the gold of his narrowed eyes.

The waves crashed against the stones and walls of the pier as he watched the gentle movement of boats and ships between the floating walkways. The sunlight reflected off the water, creating golden glimmers that danced on the surface. A faint smile crossed his face at the thought of sailing out to sea, but it faded as he remembered his inability to handle boats. He frowned and lifted his head a few centimeters, lamenting not having learned earlier.

In particular, he remembered one morning when he had sailed south without a set destination. The feeling of reaching land never surpassed the desire to venture further into the unknown. The sky was then completely blue, not cloudy as it was now. Standing with his forearms resting on the railing of a small yacht, his slim and pale torso exposed to the sun, Makishima gazed at the line dividing the sky from the sea. His gaze descended to the figure lying on his back in a floating hammock, his slightly tanned skin and short, wet brown hair falling backward.

For hours, he lay in the sun, speaking little. Makishima had long forgotten the words they had exchanged; their shared serenity was their means of communication in the tranquil silence of the sea.

That day, they had both gone for a swim, and Makishima had been the first to emerge, wearing only a pair of shorts, his slender body dripping with water. For a moment, the idea of starting the engine to depart gave him a sense of pleasure and power, making him smile and squint. However, that sensation faded as he realized that nothing and no one could compel him to exert that power. He acknowledged his impotence in the presence of a man whose presence seemed to surpass even the machine that drove the boat.

“You’re killing yourself, Choe,” he said, as the man lifted his round sunglasses to look at him and placed them on his forehead. “For days you’ve been glued to a screen without leaving the room, and here you are, lounging like an undeserving millionaire. How does it feel to do the hardest thing for you, to rest?”

“I’m not fleeing from my work, if that’s what surprises you. I know when to quit, but I don’t do it until I’m finished. I acknowledge I’ve been wasting time lately and doing my job poorly.”

“Have you ever done your job poorly?” Makishima raised an eyebrow for a moment.

“Probably more often than others. The only difference is that my failures end up in the trash.”

“This is what I wanted. To drag you with me and give you everything imaginable, except a computer. No codes, algorithms, or systems. I want to teach you how to eat, sleep, and live like a man who only knows how to laze around.”

“I’d like to try. But you didn’t drag me into anything, nor could you ever, even if you like to think otherwise,” Choe replied, pausing. “It’s not too late for you to learn about boats.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have you.”

Makishima closed his eyes, allowing the sounds of the pier and the sea to envelop him. The sun was slowly sinking into the horizon, painting the sky a deep red. Choe’s presence felt tangible in his mind, as if his shadow were beside him. For a moment, he could almost imagine Choe approaching from a walkway, calling his name and guiding him toward a boat.

He considered the possibility of setting sail once more. A simple snap of his fingers would make someone start the engine for him. But that idea soon faded; he no longer felt the same urge. He reflected on the essence of companionship and solitude. It wasn’t about seeking to be guided or finding a captain in others. He had always rejected that need and would eradicate any attempts at imposition. True friendship does not seek to control or guide.

The boats and the sea, which once offered him solace, now only accentuated his boredom. He understood that the solitude and peace he sought did not reside in the places he traveled to but in something deeper and personal he had left behind. He knew he would give his life to experience that feeling again, though he understood he could never return to it. It was like the world seen only once in childhood, when everything is new and wonderful, and the rest is just an echo of memories. The scent of cherry blossoms is yearned for, but it no longer satisfies like it did the previous summer.

[ticketstomydaydreams]

HOME

(All We Have: Part One)

Part Two

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson are close friends and he invites you to move in to his house while you work on his record together

Word count: 1,580

Feels: Friendship Fluff for now

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cursing, mentions of feeling depressed

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - Home

Sia - Dressed in Black 

The Beatles - With a Little Help from My Friends

A/N: Throughout the series there will be changes to the timing of real life events like the pandemic, the release of certain songs etc. There's certain things I want to incorporate into the series, like particular events in MGKs life and lyrics from songs, so some stuff will get moved around to fit in to the story ✌️

______

It had been a long evening working in Colson’s home studio, The Boulevard, with him and the gang on the upcoming Tickets to my Downfall album. To say your schedule was busy was an understatement, but Colson had insisted you get involved with the new material after the success of your work together on Hotel Diablo.

Composing music was your main gig, you had an ear for melody and your passion for writing meant you always had lyrics swirling around your head. You had a penchant for dark and melancholy lyrics, finding music to be a source of therapy for you. It was something you and Colson had instantly bonded over. He'd bugged you to list some of the stuff you'd written that he'd know and you had gained his professional respect immediately.

He always kept a close eye on your work, ever the supportive friend and had laid claim to your piece ‘Glass House’ as soon as he'd heard it.

______

2019

You were sitting crossed legged on the sofa in your lounge, gently strumming your guitar and gazing off into space and mumbling to yourself, as you worked out some lyrics in your head. Colson was lying on the floor by your feet, scrolling through his phone with earphones in, a blunt in his hand that he occasionally passed up to you. This was a common set up, you found it easier to write in the peace and quiet and Colson has gradually started hanging out at your place more when he needed to focus on his own writing.

"All alone in the glass house, lie awake til the sun's out, pink sky when you come down…"

"Throw me in the damn flames, Bury me in gold chains, throw me in the damn flames…"

You'd started singing out loud, occasionally stopping to scribble down lyrics and make adjustments, not noticing that Colson had removed his earbuds to listen to you

" Dude, that's hard, like, beautiful… " His comment made you jump slightly, you hadn't seen him propping himself up on his elbows, watching you intently "Sing that last bit again"

You blushed slightly, his opinion was always important to you, and started singing. He muttered to himself as you did, then pointed at you "Again!"

Letting out a little laugh and rolling your eyes, you sang again

"Throw me in the damn flames, bury me in gold chains, throw me in the damn flames"

Colson's voice met yours at the end of the line, rapping softly "I'm waiting on the rain to come and wash it all away"

You locked eyes, smiling and he sat upright. "Dude, Im'a need that hook! That spoke to me right there, I've think got something for it that I've been stuck on"

He looked so excited, your heart did a little flip. You'd seen that writing this album had taken it out of him, he'd been digging deep and really going through it emotionally. You could tell it was going to be raw and special from what you'd heard already.

He sat forward and moved the guitar from your lap so he could lean his arms on your knees and looked up at you shooting you puppy dog eyes with those baby blues "Pretty please Y/N"

You laughed and ruffled his hair, "Anything for you Col" Honestly, it'd be an honour to be part of such a personal project, you thought

He wrapped his arms round you and squeezed,

"You're a legend, kid. Get a sample recorded and send it to me!" He grabbed your guitar off the sofa and whipped back around, strumming a few chords as he carried on talking with his back to you, leaning against the sofa "This is gonna be fire, you always just hit the nail on the head, I swear it's like you're in my head sometimes"

You smiled, seeing the wave of motivation that had struck your friend. You felt so lucky to have a friend who was not only so inspiring, but one who 'got it', who understood that music was a form of release. Someone who recognised that it was important to feel these things, rather than encourage you to push dark thoughts away with toxic positivity.

He’d pushed to use your original samples on his record, but as much as you loved writing and singing, you were a behind the scenes kind of gal which had always suited you just fine. Naomi, a mutual friend of you both, came onboard to record them with him. A decision that turned out to be golden… 'Death in my Pocket' would be born not long after, with Naomi doing your lyrics such beautiful justice yet again, perfectly pairing with Colson's emotional rapping.

______

From then on Colson had kept you close to his recording. You'd been helping here and there with composition and notation, but your production skills were what was taking centre stage during the most recent sessions. You had a long list of projects you were working through, leaving you chained to your equipment most days and nights anyway so throwing more music into your workload didn't seem like much of a big deal. In all honesty, the chaos of Colson’s studio and the revolving door of personalities that were in and out constantly, made it one of the most fun places to be. You loved what you did for a living and it never really felt like work Even though the guys were a real handful at times, you kind of enjoyed being the studio 'Mami' as they often affectionately referred to you

Everything had wrapped up for the evening and the guys had migrated back into the house. You could hear from the raucous that the drinks must have started flowing freely. You were saving your work and packing up your stuff when Colson bursts back into the studio and throws himself in a chair, spinning it around with his arms in the air.

"You staying for drinks Y/N?" he grins at you, clearly hyper and in party mode

You let out a big sigh "Urgh, I'd love to but I have an early start tomorrow. I finally managed to get an apartment viewing. I swear I've looked at a hundred places now, they get snapped up so quickly.. I've only got a few weeks left on my lease as well"

“Ah, that sucks kid” Colson empathises, spinning his chair again before an idea strikes him “Wait! Why don’t you move in here for a bit until you find a place? The guest room is pretty much your room anyway, the amount you crash here”

You laugh “This is true, that mattress is so much better than mine! Aw Col, that would honestly be so helpful, the stress of finding a place when I’m this busy is killing me. I don't know… You sure the guys won’t mind?”

Colson scoffs “Why would they mind? You practically live here anyway” he teases “I’m sure they’ll be just as stoked as I am at the thought of you joining the madhouse for a while”

Before you have a chance to respond, he stands up and throws his arms around you, squashing you into him tightly “That’s it decided Roomie. Another song in the bag and a new housemate, plenty to celebrate tonight!”

Wriggling out of his tight grasp, you laugh and in a deep voice shout “let’s goooooo” mocking his signature catchphrase. He flips you his middle finger and says “Kitchen, now”

Once you’re in the kitchen, Colson heads to get you a drink and grabs one himself. Appearing back at your side, he passes you your beer and then shouts out to the rest of the group,

“YO, meet our latest housemate, Y/N is moving in. LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO”

Everyone in the kitchen lets out a big cheer, clearly pleased as he said they would be. Colson bends down and picks you up, swinging you around in a circle, spilling your drinks all over the both of you as you shout his name in mock annoyance, between giggles.

“I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for” Rook laughs, clinking his drink against your now empty beer bottle once your feet are back on the floor

“It’ll be good to have another pair of hands around here, looking after you lot” Ashleigh chimes in, laughing and slapping Slim away as he pulls her hood up over her head, covering her eyes

It had been 5 years since you'd made the decision to move to LA, barely knowing a soul. You'd worked several jobs, jumped from place to place, worked your ass off to catch your break in the music business, sometimes feeling like the grind would never get you anywhere.

There had been times where you felt like you couldn't carry on, aching from trying to keep pace. The dream had felt like it was turning into a nightmare, as you tried to make ends meet, feeling so lonely in this enormous city.. but eventually you'd made these amazing friends who made you feel so safe and loved.

Now, there were times you had to pinch yourself just to make sure it was all real.

As you shake off some of the beer that's dripping from your hands, you look around the kitchen. Taking in the crazy, loveable bunch before you, your new housemates, you are filled with gratitude. You finally felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be…

Home.

______

❌❌ Lace up!

[legends-live-in-memories]

Business (Mis)Management

AYO you know the drill. MGI Trope Tussle! 

Fics Masterlist

Timari Oneshot 2.3K words

Summary: 

"Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. "

One shot using two prompts for this server event: Day 3:College AU Day 5: "Why'd you do that?" "I- I don't know..."

without further ado: 

It was Tuesday, bright and early at 9:30 am, and Marinette was ready to commit murder. She was sitting in her Intro to Business Management course with her cup of coffee and notepad ready and pencil about to snap in her grip. Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. 

Right there, on this awful Tuesday morning, stood one Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne looking all the world like he would rather be anywhere else; stupid rich people were all the same, thinking the world was doing them a favour by letting them grace everyone else with their presence. Marinette also wishes he was anywhere else but life doesn’t work that way. Her actual professor stood off to the side, waxing sonnets about how accomplished the young CEO was and Marinette listened to none of it. Rather, she was silently stewing in her thoughts, lost in how this man became the particularly large thorn in her side.

It was six months ago when she got an email asking for a commission. A commission for the exact three piece suit he was wearing today. He had gotten her contact from another client and his emailed request was perfect and professional. He had asked for the suit, listed all the required measurements and requested any personalizations he wanted. They couldn’t meet for any in-person fittings so it was currently both aggravating and satisfying to see it fit his lean figure so perfectly. The drama didn’t start, however, until two weeks after, when Marinette had sent the finished product to the designated address. While Marinette isn’t one for showboating and bragging about her capabilities, it grinds her teeth when others try to talk down on her skills. 

When Marinette had sent off the suit, and emailed the man that the package was to be expected within three business days, she got a rather crude email in response, labeling her work as ‘tacky’ and a ‘pathetic attempt at wiggling her way into his family’s pockets.’ That had her doubletaking at the sender, making sure it wasn’t some spam mail that she was reading. Nope, that’s his email right there. Marinette remembered a particular twitch she had in her eye the first time she read that email. It was one thing to be ungrateful of a finished product, Marinette was no stranger to harsh critiques and pieces that worked better on paper than as actualized designs, but the accusation of being a gold-digger set off warning bells that threw her back into the tenth grade where she had battles with a rich blonde with daddy issues. At least he had paid her in advance for the suit. Marinette would have been perfectly fine with silently cutting all ties with Mr. Wayne right then and there, and putting the whole ordeal behind her, until he decided that a crassly worded email wasn’t enough. No. He felt compelled to go on national television and insult her suit for everyone to hear. Marinette remembers his words perfectly, as if they were ingrained in her memory forever.

“You’ve seen the suits I’ve worn, I look like I escaped my own funeral. I’ve tried local, and outsourcing designers and tailors and nothing matches my taste. I’m only twenty-three and I dress like I’ve gone through my third divorce—”Marinette had turned off the television to shamelessly cry into her pillow. She couldn’t bear to hear him insult her design over the poorly timed laughs of the ‘live-studio audience’ that particular interview was filmed in front of. 

After that, Marinette had reaffirmed her conclusion that all rich people were assholes best left to their own privileged bubble. 

A solid clap snapped her attention back to the front of the lecture hall, eyes narrowing at the man by the podium. The presentation pulled up on the smart board indicated that he was going to be speaking to them about professionalism and how to engage in buyer-seller conversations. Oh that was bloody perfect. What did this guy know about any of those things? 

The time was 9:45 exactly when the guy decided to start his presentation. 

“Hello, everyone,” his voice was smooth and firm, not wavering while speaking before a hall filled with two hundred students. “My name is Timothy Drake-Wayne but you all can just call me Tim. It’s lovely to meet all of you and I’m honoured to be here speaking for you today.” 

Cue a very predictable, very standard, very boring introduction. Marinette was beginning to tune out at this point.

“To start off this presentation, I would like to talk about misunderstandings in professional conversations.” He started walking across the front of the room. Slow and methodical; he knew he had all eyes on him and he was taking full advantage of it. Marinette wanted to gag. “Additionally, I want to discuss how to avoid them, and what to do if miscommunication occurs.”

Blah, blah blahblah. Marinette didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.

“To start off, I’m going to talk about a situation I found myself in not too long ago.” That caught her attention. “It’s funny now and makes for great dinner conversation but not so much when it had happened. How many of you siblings?”

He paused and surveyed the room. His eyes passed over Marinette and for a brief second she thought he focused on her for a blink longer than necessary. She banished the thought from her mind; she didn’t have siblings so he had no reason to notice her.  

“Now,” he continued, “how many of you have siblings who aren’t afraid to sabotage your work when they’re mad at you?” 

Another pause as some of the students lowered their hands. Some were unsure and Marinette had a weird feeling in her gut. Her instincts were screaming at her but she couldn’t figure out why.

“Don’t feel shy,” the guy raised his hand to join the students, “my younger brother is a menace who can and has attempted to sabotage my business. Just recently in fact.”

Marinette looked around the room to see quite a few surprised faces. She was vaguely familiar with the Wayne family and remembered a few details about the youngest child. He was a menace, that’s for sure. As egotistical as any thirteen year old can be. That feeling in her gut returned with vigor. She was suddenly very alert and eager, almost desperate, to figure out how the ankle biter had sabotaged this man.

“About six months ago my brothers and I were butting heads as usual. My sister was enjoying everything while shit hit the fan from a safe distance. I’m not going to go into much details.” He’s arms were waving animatedly as he spoke. It was quite endearing. NO. Bad thoughts, Marinette. “The point of all this is that I pissed my younger brother off somehow. I don’t know, maybe I breathed too hard on his cat or something.” That got a laugh out of the students except Marinette. Six months. He said his brother had sabotaged him around six months ago. That gut feeling had turned her stomach into a pit, eating away at her nerves.

“My brother had hacked into my email and sent absolutely horrible replies to everyone that was marked as important in my contacts in a poor attempt at pretending to be me. Of course, most of those contacts work at Wayne Enterprises. It took a courtesy email explaining the mishap and a personal visit with an apology gift to clear the air. Now for the contacts who don’t work at Wayne E, that’s where it gets tricky.”

Marinette was holding her breath, wishing for this day to already be over and for the ground to open and swallow her whole. She both hoped she was and wasn’t wrong. On the one hand, it meant that he was truly that harsh in replying to her and she wasn’t among the contacts his brother emailed, justifying her slowly dwindling fury. On the other more plausible hand, it meant that he wasn’t responsible for the crude email. It still didn’t explain the interview he did but…but she never did watch the entire thing. She had started watching the interview already expecting him to tear her down. He never referenced her suit by any specifics before she had changed the channel. That probably meant that she had poorly misjudged him. But she would have been contacted in some way if she was among those people and she hadn’t. So he was still an ass to her. Right? 

“For those who I couldn’t visit in person,” Oh god, he was still speaking. “I sent them more personal emails compared to what I sent the employees. That was really the most I could do and I hoped for the best. I got a reply from most; they were rather understanding, actually, some even claiming that their own siblings would do something like that. It went over pretty well.” He suddenly had this forlorn look as he rubbed his hands absentmindedly against the suit. 

“While I was lucky that most of my contacts were understanding, one important thing to be prepared for is people who won’t be that forgiving. Do you see this suit I’m wearing? I love this suit. I will absolutely get buried in this suit. I had commissioned and received it just before the email fiasco and I, regrettably, never got a response when I tried to both thank and apologize to them. My brother had used my email to accuse them of being a gold-digger of all things. I would have loved to commission them again but it looks like my brother burned that bridge permanently.”

What? No. That’s not true and Marinette felt hot rage flare up in her. Was he really lying to try and save face right now? She felt the strong urge to interrupt him. To march down those steps and let him know exactly how she felt about him lying about emailing her to apologize. But, a treacherous hopeful part of herself whispered to her, she had to be sure. She had to have irrefutable proof that she wasn’t one of the victims to his rabid brother and he was just an ass. 

She couldn’t get to her phone fast enough. She searched for all the emails the two had exchanged, finding the most recent to be his harsh email. She had another niggling feeling, however, and decided to check her spam mail. 

Marinette has most definitely stopped breathing. 

Right there, in bold letters sat a Wayne Enterprises email waiting to be opened and read. She couldn’t bring herself to click it open, ice flooding her veins, freezing her in her seat. She actually misread the situation. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to bash her head on the table and grovel for forgiveness from this very handsome man. She didn’t do any of this, however, managing some degree of composure and sat through the remainder of his presentation. She would bet her left leg it was the best presentation she would have ever heard but she couldn’t recall a single word of it from that point on; too busy digging her own grave and writing her own eulogy. She could never show her face around Gotham again. Her life was ruined.

The sounds of people packing up had her crawling herself out of her own head. She mechanically packed her things up, gazing pathetically at her blank notebook. She made her way down the steps, eyeing the gaggle of students surrounding Marinette’s biggest missed opportunity to date. She was just about to walk straight out the door, resigning herself to her fate when she made a hasty decision. She turned to the dwindling crowd and marched like a woman on a mission. She wormed her away to stand directly in Tim’s line of sight and she braced herself for possibly her dumbest idea yet. She listened to the conversation going on and as soon as it appeared she was not going to interrupt anyone, she shot her hand out and grabbed him by his suit. The act caught everyone’s attention but before she could chicken out, she turned to leave and pulled the businessman along with her, leaving stunned silence behind. 

They didn’t get far out the door when he yanked her arm off him, stopping them in their tracks. He looked angry, confused but also very put out at her. Fair. 

“Why’d you do that?” 

“I— I don’t know.” His glare was intense. Marinette felt her face flush and her knees weaken. She wanted to make things right but it seemed she was only making things worse. She took a breath. Focus, she reminded herself. She just needed to address one problem at a time. “I mean, I do know why but I wasn’t supposed to do it like that. I just needed your attention.”

“Well now you have it. So what do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize. Not about dragging you out here. Yet. But for accidentally ignoring your apology email.” One of his eyebrows rose incredulously as she kept talking, but she ignored it and powered on. “It was, for some reason, in my spam mail and I didn’t see it. But if it’s any consolation, I would love it if you commissioned me for another suit. Or anything else really.” 

“Pardon?” He didn’t believe her, or was at least confused by her, that much she could tell.

“You suit. I made it. Here, look.” She turned her phone screen, showing him their conversations in her emails. At his slightly more relaxed posture she continued speaking. “I’m glad you like the suit.”

“Huh.”

“Also I’m sorry for dragging you out here.” She had curled her shoulders into her ears, still holding her phone out like an idiot. His chuckle in response eased her nerves only slightly. He had a cute laugh. And he was cute too. Bad thoughts! Stop getting distracted!

“Okay, I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine.” The carefree smile he threw at her was disarming. “And I would love to talk more about working with you, Ms. Cheng.”

“Marinette, please, Mr. Wayne.” She could breathe easier now, no longer on the verge of catastrophizing. “If you want to get started as early as possible, I’m free for an early lunch right now.”

“Only if you call me Tim. And lunch sounds great actually. I know a great bistro off campus if you will let me escort you.” He really needed to stop smiling at her like that. Her heart couldn’t take it.

“Sounds wonderful. Lead the way.” He turned and offered her his arm. She was slow to move, still faintly caught in the emotional whiplash of the morning. Her gentle grip on his bicep was enough for her to feel the muscle definition under the suit. It pleasantly surprised her but not nearly as much as his next words.

“Perfect. It’s a date.”

What?

[wonder-womans-ex]

Make a Promise

“Sirius,” Remus says, rolling onto his side to face the man beside him, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Shoot.” Sirius’s eyes stay focused on the ceiling above, but he smiles warmly. 

“Do you—well, you probably don’t remember, but when we lived together, before, in the flat with the piss-yellow walls and the floors that squeaked and the stove that never worked, I had a shoebox. Under the bed. And I never let you look in it.”

Sirius is quiet for a moment, then, “I remember.”

There were three things is the box. And I didn’t want you to see any of them, all for different reasons.”

“Why do I have the feeling you’re about to tell me what they were?” He’s teasing, but his eyes go soft when Remus replies, “Because you know me better than anyone.”

“The first thing,” continues Remus, “The one that took up the most space, was my registry papers. Documents of where I spent every full moon, what classification of werewolf I am, whether I’ve attacked anyone—that sort of thing. 

“Then there was a photo from first year. The one Peter took of James, you, and me after our first detention.” Sirius clenches his jaw, and Remus knows he’s thinking of their old friend. “For years, I thought I’d lost it, but then I was cleaning out the attic after my mum died, and there it was. And I kept it. Because in that photo, you’re looking at me like you looked at me after fifth year; like you look at me now. It just... amazes me, I guess, because we were eleven and we’d barely known each other a month, and already there was something there. I used to take it out, sometimes, when you were gone, and remind myself that what we had was real. It was... it was the only photo of you I didn’t burn.”

The silence envelopes them, heavy and painful, until Remus swipes a hand over his eyes. “Oh, fuck, I’m crying.”

“‘S’okay,” Sirius says, “so am I.”

“You know I love you, right? More than anything?”

“I know. I love you, too. Always and forever.”

Somewhere along the way, their fingers have twined together. Sirius, after giving Remus’s hand a reassuring squeeze, asks, “And the third thing?”

“The third thing in the box?” 

“Yeah.”

“A box.”

“A box. Inside a box.”

“That’s right.”

“How exciting.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “Shut up. What matters is what was inside the box.”

“What was inside the box inside the box?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I try.”

“Do you want to know what was inside the box or don’t you?”

“Please, do tell.” The grin on Sirius’s face still does embarrassing things to Remus’s heart, even after all these years. “How about I show you, instead?” he says. 

Sirius nods. 

As he leans over to grab his wand from the bedside table, Remus takes a breath. No going back now. He performs a wandless summoning charm, looking anywhere but at Sirius. 

“So.” He snatches the box out of the air as it flies towards him. “I bought this our last Hogsmeade weekend of seventh year. And I meant to give it to you right after graduation, and then again when we bought the flat, and again when I found out James was planning on proposing to Lily, but things kept coming up and I kept putting it off, and eventually it was too late. So I’m giving it to you now.”

He stops. His lower lip is trembling. “Hold out your hands and close your eyes.”

Slowly, Remus presses the box into Sirius’s outstretched hands. “You can open your eyes now.”

Sirius does, eyelids fluttering, and his eyes fix onto what he’s now holding. He inhales so sharply it’s almost a gasp. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Probably.” Remus waits to see if Sirius is going to say something else. He doesn’t, so Remus goes on. 

“Padfoot,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “you have known me since before I really knew myself. You taught me I matter; I deserve to be loved. You were the first person to find out what I was—what I am—and think no differently because of it. I have tried time and time again to find where I belong, and I never find that the answer is anywhere but with you.

“You are my world, Sirius Black, and it it because of you that I have the confidence to say I am yours. So I ask you, in the house of your awful parents who are probably rolling over in their graves right now... will you marry me?”

Sirius nods, the tears in his eyes spilling over. “Yes. Abso-fucking-lutely yes.”

And now they’re both crying, and they’re kissing each other on the cheek, the forehead, the mouth. Neither of them has ever been happier. 

Finally, Remus pulls back, prying Sirius’s fingers back from around the box, “Aren’t you going to look inside?”

For reasons he can’t quite explain, Sirius hold his breath a he opens the lid, deep red velvet contrasting starkly against thin, pale fingers. A smile spreads across his face. 

The ring inside glints gold; the four tiny rubies set in the band catch the early morning light. “It’s beautiful,” breathes Sirius, grin lopsided where his lip is between his teeth. “Can you...?”

It takes Remus a moment to realize what his boyfriend—fiancee, he corrects himself with a surge of joy—means. “Yeah,” he manages, taking Sirius’s left hand in both of his own and sliding the ring carefully onto the fourth finger. They stay there, palm to palm, for a long time, trading sweet nothings and gentle, chaste kisses. 

“I’ve been imagining how you’d look wearing that ring for nearly seventeen years,” Remus is saying when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

“Breakfast!” Both men look up when Molly’s shout rings down the hallway, neither speaking until she’s moved on to the next door. 

“Our first meal as engaged wizards,” Remus says, pulling Sirius to his feet. “C’mon.”

They wait, giggling and smiling at each other, until they’re sure everyone else has gone down, and then they race to to stars, still holding hands. They slide down the banisters, too; it’s like they’re sixteen all over again. 

At the first landing, Remus stops to push Sirius against the wall. “We’re getting married,” he murmurs into the kiss, and he feels Sirius smile against his lips. 

At the second landing, Sirius brings Remus’s hand to his face, pressing his mouth to each knuckle. 

They don’t stop on the third landing, but they do on the stair after it. Sirius almost falls over as he turns, one foot catching himself on the step below. 

“Can I take your last name?” His eyes are shining. 

Remus says, solemnly, “It would be my honour,” and they laugh again. 

The dining room does not go quiet when they enter. They make no grand enterance. Everyone else continues with their noise and clutter until Harry looks up from his game of chess; he nudges Ron, sitting opposite him, and both boys wave. 

Sirius glances sideways, catching Remus’s eyes. He raises an eyebrow.

Harry grins when Sirius sits down next to him. “Morning,” he yawns. “Ron’s checked my queen.”

“Good for him.”

Ron opens his mouth to say something, but Sirius never finds out what. With a flick of her wand, Molly has set out the silverware—it’s stainless steel, technically, so it doesn’t hurt Remus—and the plates, steaming with porridge. 

“Go on, eat,” she urges loudly, pouring out a cup of tea. “Don’t let it get cold.”

There’s a flurry of movement as everyone claims their place at the table. Remus ends up between Arthur Weasley and Sirius; he has to keep his elbows tucked in so as not to knock over anyone’s morning coffee. Across from him, Tonks is putting her metamorphagus skills to use, her Dumbledore imitation in particular sending Ginny into fits of laughter. 

He nearly burns his tongue on the first bite of porridge. Through the pain in his taste buds, he notices it’s quite good, and makes a mental note to compliment Mrs. Weasley on the recipe. Anyone who can make oats and water taste good, he reasons, is worthy of whatever praise falls their way. 

To his right, Sirius takes a thoughtful sip of his tea. They catch each other’s eyes and smile. 

Glancing around, Sirius sees that everyone is once more engrossed in conversation. Fred Weasley in particular is gesticulating wildly with his spoon, and Sirius has to duck to avoid a flying bit of porridge. Absentmindedly, he twists the ring on his finger around, rubbing his thumb over the four jewels. 

His chair almost topples over when he leans back in it, grabbing an antique crystal goblet from the shelf behind him. He takes the sugar tongs from the table, too, and then he stands up. 

Even with the ding ding ding of silver on crystal, it takes almost ten seconds for just one person—aside from Remus, of course—to look up. Hermione holds his gaze for a moment before leaning over and whispering something in Ginny’s ear. By the time he’s got everyone’s attention, he’s begun to contemplate sitting back down again. 

But, finally, there’s silence, and all twelve pairs of eyes in the room (minus his own, obviously) are on him. 

Sirius clears his throat. He resists the urge to climb on top of his chair, because a broken neck would not be a good start to his engagement. 

“Good morning!” he announces. “I, uh, I have news. Good news.”

Dear lord, he used to be a lot better at this. From somewhere down the table, there’s a mutter of, “Well, get on with it, then.”

Skipping the rest of the preamble, he allows his face to split into a smile. “We’re getting married.”

There is none of the happy amazement he expected. He receives no applause. What he does receive are slow blinks and confusion written on every face except his own and Remus’s. It’s Molly who eventually says something, and what she says is, “Congratulations! If you don’t mind me asking... who’s the lucky lady?”

Now it’s Sirius’s turn to be confused. “You mean... you didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Bloody hell.” He isn’t sure whether he should laugh or cry. “I thought we made it obvious enough.”

“Well, clearly you didn’t!”

“How much do we need to broadcast it for you to see what’s right in front of you? How often should we hold hands at mealtimes? During Order meetings? Do you want us to take down the silencing charms on the bedroom, too, so you can hear everything we say, everything we—mmph.”

Sirius is cut off when Remus stands up, grabs the back of his head, and smashes their lips together. Between all those times back at Hogwarts, and now this, it seems it truly has become a trend—Remus shutting him up by sticking his tongue in Sirius’s mouth, that is. 

They break apart far too soon for Remus’s liking, but they do have an audience, after all. He can imagine without looking the expression on Molly’s face, and his imagination is proved correct when he turns away, sliding his fingers down Sirius’s arm to clasp their hands together. “That should answer your question,” he says before anyone has the chance to pick their jaw up off the floor. 

It’s been silent for a while—or, at least, it feels that way; the grandfather clock by the opposite wall shows only thirty seconds have passed—when Sirius realizes they’re still standing. “Excuse us,” he says, and pulls Remus out of the room. 

Out in the hallway, they stare at each other for a few moments before bursting out in laughter. “Oh my god, Remus,” Sirius wheezes. “Oh my god. That was fucking incredible.”

Remus covers his eyes with one hand. “It was spur of the moment, okay? Bloody hell, that was—”

“Unbelievably attractive? Absolutely iconic?”

“So embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing for you, maybe. But that right there? That’s why I love you.”

“What, not my dazzling personality?” 

Sirius grins, leaning in. “Well, yeah, that too. And your gorgeous golden eyes, and your genius mind, and you smile that always makes me melt inside, and—”

“Okay!” yelps Remus, because he knows Sirius too well. “I get the idea!” His gaze is soft, though, and when Sirius reaches up to cup his cheek in one palm, he leans into the touch. 

Eventually, someone—Tonks, or Harry, or one of the Weasleys—will come to find them, demanding explanation. But for now?

It’s just them. 

And despite everything—despite who they’ve lost and what they’ve been through—they have each other. 

[project-paranoia]

Let’s Watch: Yin Yang Master: Dream of Eternity

I have watched this movie 85 Whole Entire Times and I do not regret.  The only thing wrong with this movie is that it wasn't a fifty episode series.  I cried, I laughed, I fell in love.  The cinematography is on point, the acting is amazing, the crew member who put snow on people's eyebrows did an amazing job, and the acting!  The subtlety, the gentleness, the love and affection, the discussion of race is one of the best I've ever seen.

As people have pointed out before in series like X-Men that fear of mutant's is practically if not thematically justified due to the laser eyes in a way that fear of ethnic minorities just isn't in real life.  In Dream of Eternity however humans are equally if not sometimes more super powered than the yao they hunt.  Demons - very much not in the Christian sense - are a mixture of spirits, resentful souls, and animals and plants who cultivated to human form.  They often appear human at first glance and in some cases the extent of their power seems to be the limited to turning into a smaller more vulnerable animal.  Qingming's deliberate care and gentleness not only reflects his upbringing as a Yin Yang Master, but parallels the experience of racial minorities labelled as aggressive.

The movie takes particular care as well in the way it looks at trauma, grief, and love.  The three of which haunt the main characters and send out ripple effects into the world around them.  In the world of Dream of Eternity no loss is purely private, it spools out into the world around the person effected until they make an effect to acknowledge and deal with their experiences.  Qingming's warmth and gentleness isn't just marked by his behaviour but by the orange light he's lit by and his variety of shishen - but he is also separate, standing alone in frame and facing away from the people around him.  Boya's loss has made him unforgiving and as cold as the blue light he's lit in, and yet he is open and instinctive, talking and acting as soon as the thought enters his head.  The Empress is lost and drifting, trapped and grief stricken, vulnerable to those who profess to love her.  The film is simple, it says and shows what it means when it means it - but it is also as complex as the very human characters it depicts.  

The movie is made even more complex by its pull from theaters.  Claims of plagiarism drench the edges of the movie, which as true as the assertion that Fan BingBing went on a spa vacation in 2018.  Although this blog is about Chinese censorship dealing specifically with BL content, Chinese censorship also effects those who criticize governmental policy.  I hope that supporters of this blog will also support Chinese media threatened by censorship for many reasons so that artists and others involved in film making can continue to make meaningful content.

Doing a watchthrough of a movie is not feasible, but please enjoy a few thousand words - with spoilers on Yin Yang Master included:

* That gentle chiming and rain soundscaping is so soothing, what a great way to calm and lull the audience before the movie even starts * Qingming is so small and isolated in the frame - cinema! * The lighting and cinematography is just so good * Shifu, soft gentle teacher * So much love stored in the Shifu * Instant grow * This boy is Sassy * This theme of deflection in Qingming's character is established early * Deflection with a teleportation portal and then immediately deflection verbally * Shifu is certainly an attractive man aged up, but his face is also soft and gentle, something to note when his double pops up later * Also the awkward question of don't you have someone you want to protect, maybe part of the problem is that shifu is just really bad at wording things * The answer that yes he does has several meanings, one of which is immediately apparent when Shifu acts out one of those Father Saves Child By Yeeting them youtube videos * ACtion MuSIC * I love them your honour * The spirit guardian's design is so specific and elegant, absolutely superb you funky little shishen * I wonder if Qingming ever thinks about that if he didn't come back with all his fellow disciples that Shifu would have been fine * Maybe it's not that he doesn't have someone he wants to protect and more that he believes that he's not capable of protecting those he wants to * subtle indication Shifu's qi is corrupted * Precious Magic Childe ;-; * The framing, I'm living for it * The Serpent graphic is lovely * Also the way they set things up * Qingming cares so much about his shifu * Mark Chao just has the ability to crumple his face like paper * Sad Time exposition involving the corrupting influence of desires * "When you're gone I'll be all alone" in just about all you need to know about Qingming at this point in the story * Also like, sympathy for Shifu in raising this lonely child.  By all accounts he was an absolutely superb father figure, and Qingming I'm sure was not an easy child to raise.  He's the sort of kid that would take a lot of calm and patience. * Slumber party! * It's kind of interesting that this is an activity Fangyue and He Shouyue are doing together.  He's definitely obsessed and in love with her and she's just doing friends and family activities with him * Also yellow/gold lighting is kind of their thing * It's interesting how they do the make up for He Shouyue.  The actor is very attractive, but they make him up to look doll like, a little too pretty, a little too shiny.  Like a porcelain doll. * Cool lit Boya and warm lit Qingming appear! * Camels! * The framing is so good, they're careful to be sure he's shown as obviously isolated as much as possible * And it should go without saying that I adore the City * The matte painting is outstanding * But there's also the lighting, the vignettes, the clusters, the foliage * It is a supremely beautiful set * The irony that Killing Stone is playing along with Boya's music and then it's Boya who kicks him around * A small note, but one I appreciate - even when Boya has warm highlight's they're red instead of orange * "It's Jason Bourne!" * I hope Qingming paid for that water taxi * It's interesting how Killing Stone goes from the safety of Qingming's orange light to the danger of Qingming's blue * Colour related foreshadowing! * Look at this poor sweet man, how could anyone suspect him of anything.  He's just a sad man who loves his dead wife * Qingming's use of a fan is interesting - battle fans show up all over wuxia and xianxia, but it feels like it also ties into the way he's so very careful in how he presents himself.  There's that quote that a sword can only be a sword but other weapons are also able to serve other purposes - not a perfect quote but the point is got across. * The way Qingming just knocks Boya back, like get An Clue, my dude * The way that Killing Stone curls around the pipa ;-; * So the movie is based on the book series 'Onmyoji' by Yumemakura Baku.  The books start with Seimei (Qingming) and Hiromasa (Boya) already in a relationship talking about various cases Seimei has recently experienced.  Plotwise, obviously the stories are different, however thematically Seimei and Hiromasa discuss why some yao stick around and solutions to the difficulties and dangers they might cause - which is generally from Seimei's very successful perspective to listen and treat them like humans.  So in that way the plots of the books and the movie are quite different, but the themes are just about identical. * Boya says Don't Talk Me I Angy and also that demons don't have feelings and Qingming's face takes out a billboard that's just like Ah, Another Fantasy Racist, Excellent * Qingming also does what should be done in this situation, taking care of the victim not the racist * Fight scene!  Fight scene! * Qingming's first few moves aren't to attack, they're to distract and just hold his fan up to block Boya's way and his view - it's only when Boya persists in attacking that Qingming fights back * Qingming's sassy smile, he is very much deliberately irritating Boya as much as he's refocusing his attention and distracting him * "nICE sWORD" * I've sighed that sigh before * This boy is taking great pleasure from teasing Boya, but also he makes a really good point * I understand and relate to what Qingming did, but also I can understand why Boya was ready to throw rocks at Qingming when he saw him again * Killing Stone lit in Qingming's orange light again * Killing Stone, my beloved * A good gauge to the state of the world for yao is no one has told this sweet boy before that demons have feelings too * There are several lines like this in the movie that just drop kick you with Implications * The same way Qingming clung to Zhongxing, Killing Stone wants to join up with Qingming to have some compassion in his life * The way he asks to be a spirit guardian is so formal too, and Qingming is so gentle with him, I cry ;-; * The warm orange light of Qingming's love ;-; * He heals the wounds * It took me an embarrassing amount of time to realise it's the actual imperial degree speaking and not one the of Jingyun Temple Masters * The mutual this guy again is delicious * "Is it because of your pretty face" * Boya draws his sword so fast and Qingming is so amused by it * Longye!  Queen!  I love her! * The two of them seem to understand each other instantly * Those sassy little smiles * He Shouyue looks even more like a doll than before * Longye has her head on a swivel from second one, she plays the Maiden so well like she's not a skilled master * And her customer service smile * Qingming is shooketh

* What happens next?  You'll have to watch and find out!

[jadelotusflower]

It’s Cold in that Fridge: The Case of Nakari Kelen

Since The Case of Mara Jade has been doing the rounds again, I’ve finally gone back to this post that has been sitting in my drafts for literally years. So let’s honour this absolute badass who deserved better:

Once upon a time, the Star Wars universe was but six films (and a tv series) in the story of the Skywalker family. But beyond George Lucas’ story was an absolute boatload of books, comics, games, and other materials that made up the Expanded Universe. When Disney purchased Lucasfilm and the rights to the Star Wars saga, everything in this universe was decanonised and deemed “Legends” - some aspects of this universe were retained or re-purposed, others sit in Disney’s figurative vault and will likely never see the light of day (and seeing how the ST turned out, maybe that’s for the best).

But this transition between Legends canon and Disney canon was not so simple, because the nature of publishing meant that there were novels approved during the time of Legends canon that would be released in the time of Disney canon. In particular, there had been the planned trilogy “Empire and Rebellion”, set between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, with each novel from the perspective of one of The Big Three.  

Razor’s Edge (Leia) and Honor Among Thieves (Han) were released prior to the Great Canon Split of 2014.  But while the Luke-centric novel had been planned, it was not due to be released until well after the Split. So Heir to the Jedi (so called as an homage to the Legends progenitor Heir to the Empire) became one of the first books of the Disney canon.

What does this background have to do with Nakari Kelen?  Perhaps nothing, but I do wonder how the writing process was affected by the shift from Legends to Disney - was the novel a relic of the old EU with any reference the LFL storygroup didn’t like excised during editing, or was it a trendsetter for the new EU, a Sign of Things to Come?  

The most salient point being, of course, that Nakari Kelen - like so many love interests before her - was not allowed to go along her merry way at the conclusion of the novel, but was shoved into the fridge.

If there was one constant of the Legends EU, it was that Luke Skywalker’s love interests couldn’t catch a break. Mara Jade naturally lasted the longest relationship-wise, with almost twenty years of marriage to Luke before some bright spark decided she had to go (as per the aforementioned case study). But before Mara there was Jem, Shira Brie, and Gaeriel Captison (who came close to escaping the curse), and in the Legacy of the Force series they brought back sole survivors Akanah and Callista, only to kill them off for good too (and rather brutally, if I may add).

So perhaps when Kevin Hearne began writing HttJ within the confines of the Legends continuity, he was merely sticking to the status quo, or perhaps once subsumed by Disney they needed to make sure Luke's slate was clean (so to speak).  And I can’t put all the blame on Hearne since I don’t know whether it was his idea, or LFL mandated - but regardless it was a poor decision.

The root cause of fridging, imo, is limited imagination.  How best to cause your male protagonist pain if not kill off someone they love, or at least have strong feelings for? The answer is of course, easily. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Luke Skywalker of HttJ is fresh from his victory in ANH, a lieutenant in the Rebellion: young, not dumb, and full of...

Nakari Kalen is an absolute Queen a civilian volunteer and crack-shot sniper who loans her ship Desert Jewel to the Alliance. Luke is immediately attracted to her, they bond over a mutual love of fast ships and leaving behind desert home planets, and engage in the inexpert flirting of two nineteen year olds while also risking their lives several times over.

I want to make it clear: I actually really like this book. It's a breezy read, almost serialised as The Early Adventures of Luke Skywalker, and is ofttimes genuinely funny. And credit where it’s due to Hearne, many of of the supporting roles in the novel are female. Other than Nakari, there's Soonta, the Rodian who gives Luke her uncle’s lightsaber, Sakhet the Kupohan spy, and the Givin cryptographer/math genius Drusil Bephorin. In a genre where male characters are often the default for these kind of roles, it was nice to see, but makes the regressive fridging of Nakari even more egregious.

Luke and Nakari make a good team fighting brain-sucking monsters and Imperials, but more importantly they have fun together - she encourages him to work on his Force skills, and he successfully moves objects with his mind for the first time (leading to Nakari adorably dub him "a little noddle scooter"). It's a very sweet, if brief, relationship, and a respite from the danger of the mission. They spend the night together (leaving the reader to decide exactly what happened behind closed doors), and share a kiss before splitting up to try and escape bounty hunters. No prizes for guessing what happens to Nakari immediately after she received the Skywalker Kiss of Death.

I assume there were two motivating factors for why Hearne and/or LFL couldn't let Nakari live:

1. If she survived, fans would wonder why she doesn't appear in ESB/subsequent material.

I recall this bandied about on forums back at the time of the book's release, and to that I say - so what? Fans are always going to wonder, and try to paper over the gaps in canon, to make up their own headcanons to explain any any perceived inconsistencies. It's certainly no reason to kill someone off.

It is in fact possible for two young people to have a romance that just fizzles, or doesn’t work out for whatever reason - it should not require great maneuvering or explanation. If Nakari doesn’t show up in the next book in the timeline, what about it? The reader is smart enough to assume she and Luke broke up, decided to just remain friends, whatever. But it seems that the only way for a female character to exit stage left is for her to die, which is bullshit.

And actually, there's no reason why she couldn't have shown up again. ESB and RoTJ cover a month and a few days, respectively, of Luke's life - just because there was no mention of Nakari doesn't mean she didn't exist at that time, whether or not she and Luke were an item. She could have made an appearance in a subsequent novel, or Rebels, or the comics - she could have become a recurring character, showing up when the Rebellion needed her, or - heaven forbid - even have her own comic/book/show! Her existence in Star Wars canon didn't need to begin and end with Luke Skywalker, merely to service his plotline and backstory and abandoning the richness of her own.

No, the only reason Nakari had to die was to facilitate this:

It was a blow to the gut, realizing what that sudden absence meant. I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but I had felt Nakari's life snuffed out through the Force, and into that void where she had shone anger rushed in - anger, and a cold sense of raw power and invincibility...I took a step to join in the hunt but stopped, breathing heavily, unaccountably sweating even though I felt so cold inside and the power of the Force roiled within me... I shook with emotion and power, and none of it felt the way the Force had before...I saw what kind of space it was , a black hole that would always be hungry no matter how much I fed it. I might never feel warm again if I didn't get myself under control.

Luke feels the dark side and is tempted by the boost of power it offers him, but immediately identifies it as dangerous and unnatural. I can understand why Hearne wanted to include this - it is a book of firsts after all: Luke's first solo mission, his first time using telekenisis, and ending with story with his first experience of the dark side makes sense. But it wasn't necessary, which leads to:

2. How to push Luke to touch the dark side without killing someone he has romantic feelings for?

Also, obviously, shite of the bull (or nerf, if you prefer). Even if this brush with the dark side was absolutely necessary for the novel's climax, there's any number of ways it could be achieved. At this point, Luke is fresh from losing important people in his life - Owen and Beru, Ben, and Biggs - lumping another death on top of that a narrative trick for Luke to react not only to losing Nakari, but the others as well. But it's cheap, the first card in the deck, and why not show a bit of imagination? Luke is young and inexperienced enough at this point that any number of things could be the catalyst - the whole book he's struggling with his growing powers, why not try and reach too far in the firefight with the bounty hunters, his anger and frustration with himself in not doing enough trigger the dark side temptation? It would work thematically and doesn't involve a fridging that ultimately has very little payoff.

Because Nakari is killed less than ten pages from the end of the book - afterwards Luke grieves, but ultimately chooses to honour her memory and be grateful for what he learned with her, recommitting to becoming a Jedi. It's all very surface level, and once again a female character's death facilitates a male character's development. Was it so imperative that Luke lost someone he cared about as part of this story? Sure, this was a time of galactic civil war, and it's far from unrealistic that these stories have a high body count, but who to make collateral damage remains an authorial choice, and in this case Nakari Kelen was (a) a female character of color, (b) a love interest of the protagonist - not just of this book, but the entire Original Trilogy.

I don't know to what extent (if any) race had to play in the decision. I'm sure there was a segment of the fandom absolutely livid that Luke Skywalker kissed (and maybe had sex with) a black woman. Was her death LFL hedging its bets, or demonstrative of the general lack of attention/respect they show their characters of colour?

In any case this was a chance to stand out from the old EU and it's fridge full of Luke's dead girlfriends, but instead they chose to introduce and kill off Nakari for the sole purpose of Luke's manpain and character development, and that's gross.

And then there's this:

A grisly yet reliable fact about custom bounty hunter ships is that you can always count on them to have body bags stashed somewhere for the easy transport of their kills. They often have built-in refrigerated storage, too.

NAKARI IS KILLED AND LITERALLY STORED IN THE FUCKING FRIDGE I COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT I WAS READING.

I really hope this was unintentional on Hearne's part, because yikes. He was halfway there, this book was full of interesting female characters who had agency - Drusil in particular was a delight with her super math and inability to understand human interaction. Nakari was full of life and fun - capable but relatable, showing a different side of the Rebellion and those that suffered under the Empire's rule. Fridging her in her first appearance is considerably more vile, because it reduces her to a footnote of Luke's story, a plot device to Help Him Grow, rather than a springboard to tell more of her own story.

Because Nakari was a compelling character ripe for spinoff potential. I would absolutely have read or watched her continued adventures, juggling missions for her father's Biolabs company and trying to aid the Rebellion, shooting her slug rifle and cracking wise, maybe even finding a way to amplify her mother's song Vader's Many Prosthetic Parts to really stick it to the Empire, or try and free the political prisoners on Kessel.

The old EU was made great by allies and enemies of Our Heroes showing up again to help or hinder them, and/or branching out into their own material. We fell in love with them, and followed their stories even as they diverged from the main saga, eager to read more about their lives.

Nakari Kelen never got that chance. In many ways, she exemplified what Disney Star Wars was to become: an exercise in wasted potential.

[wei-yiing]

Ohhoho a drabble you say? How about something with cloud recesses summer school time but a matchmaker takes advantage of all the eligible bachelors in one spot and ensuing wangxian? (Stay well, friend!)

[ anon i saw this and sat on it for three days and i could only produce this awful drabble :') i'm still posting it because i love you. :"") ]

"Sect Leader Lan, you don't have any daughters, do you?"

Jin Guangshan's voice dances in the air as he quietly sips his tea, eyes lidded as he maintains his gaze with Lan Qiren.

"No." He grumbles as he restrains the urge to rub his temple. It would be unbecoming to fidget in front of their honoured guest, but Jin Guangshan is making it awfully difficult not to. "No, there are no female cultivators or next of kin within the Cloud Recesses."

"Well then, I'm sure we can figure something out." The man opposite places his teacup down with a smile. The sparks amidst snow covering the fabric of his clothing is somewhat garish to the eyes. Then again, the entirety of Lanling Jin always announce their presence with the loudness of their appearance. "I'm sure the various sect leaders have daughters that would suit your nephews' taste. And with their good looks and well behaved manner, whichever fair maiden we find should count her stars."

Masking a sigh as a contemplative exhale, Lan Qiren brings his own cup of tea to his lips. As much as wishes that were the case, he knows the situation may not be so easy-flowing with his younger nephew. Lan Wangji has been blessed with an attractive face, and he is Lan Qiren's best student, always devoted and adherent to his strict upbringing; but he's lacking in the charming softness that his brother possesses, and as such, has not quite mastered the nuances of courting a lady. In fact, Lan Wangji never even seems to try. Which, in all honesty, Lan Qiren takes no issue with. He would much rather this than the alternative of Lan Wangji frolicking around with women by his side, or worse, some wretched vixen ruining his good name altogether.

He grips the tea cup tighter.

Alas, Lan Wangji's sub-par social skills result in every attraction towards him being purely superficial, and Lan Qiren does not wish for that, either. Lan Xichen will easily find a sweet, mild woman who will accept every facet of him, but where in the world will they find someone who is willing to look past Lan Wangji's cold demeanor? Where in the world will they find someone that Lan Wangji, the ever-disinterested and studious boy that he is, will take a liking to?

Taking advantage of the congregation of disciples from multiple sects all over the land, Jin Guangshan had travelled to speak on this matter to Lan Qiren personally, putting forth his proposal of a mass-arranged marriage agreement between the five major sects to strengthen their bonds. It's a novel concept, with most sects usually choosing to continue their lineage within the clan. But somehow, Jin Guangshan being Jin Guangshan, he had swayed most of their fellow sect leaders already, and decided that while the disciples are familiarising themselves with one other, it would be a good opportunity for families to mingle and arrangements to be written.

His guest seems to have picked up on his silence as a sign of musing. "Ah, Sect Leader Lan, don't worry. We have so many unorthodox children here, but I assure you, they will all definitely find a match. Is it Second Young Master Lan you are concerned about?"

It seems even Jin Guangshan is aware of the situation. "Yes, somewhat. He is a very particular person."

"Indeed." Jin Guangshan openly sighs, his lips upturned. He takes a second to survey his surroundings, listening to the gentle sound of water cascading in the distance. The air is cool, and peaceful. As the Cloud Recesses should always be. He looks back to the table and opens his mouth. "That hot-headed Young Master from Yunmeng Jiang."

"Young Master Jiang?"

"No, the other one. The dogged and flippant one. He seems to get along with Second Young Master Lan, from what I've heard. Perhaps a political marriage would be good for relations between Yunmeng Jiang and Gusu Lan?"

Lan Qiren stares with a furrow in his brow, before the implication sets in and he abruptly slams his teacup down. "You don't mean."

"Young Master Wei Ying, was it?"

-

"Shi-jie deserves so much better than that pompous, smug... brat. He's a brat. There, I said it."

"Wei-xiong, don't be so loud." Nie Huaisang hides his mouth behind his fan as he walks alongside him. "You've already gotten in trouble for fighting with Jin-xiong once. Don't let anyone hear you again."

"He's right. Wei Wuxian, you can't do anything about it now." On the other side of him, Jiang Cheng huffs in annoyance. "They're betrothed. And at least shi-jie seems to like him. Usually in a political marriage, neither person has any strong feelings on the matter."

"But why does she like him in the first place? He's so... ugh. I just don't understand political marriages."

"Heh. Is that so?" An arrogant voice cuts through the air behind him, and he freezes, as do Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng. Nie Huaisang's fan stops fluttering.

Not you, not now...

"Jin Zixuan."

"Wei Wuxian."

Nie Huaisang leans over, whispering into Wei Wuxian's ear behind his fan. "At least address him formally, Wei-xiong!"

He whispers back, though he makes little effort to conceal it. "Why should I bother when he didn't?"

"You were saying something about political marriages? Very timely."

Jiang Cheng inhales intently next to him, but says nothing, knowing Wei Wuxian already has the arrows of his words drawn. "Are you going to tell me more about your arrangement? I don't want to hear about your opinions regarding your betrothal to my shi-jie, Young Master Jin."

"You're far too presumptuous, Young Master Wei. I was going to tell you nothing of the sort. Well, Sect Leader Lan had intended to tell you himself, but I believe he's having a stroke somewhere, and my father told me to come fetch you."

Nie Huaisang snaps his fan shut. His voice is trembling, though less out of concern and more out of entertainment. "E-Excuse me?"

Jin Zixuan crosses his arms, smirking. "Sect Leader Lan is fine, don't worry. He's just processing the arrangement put forward for you, Young Master Wei. I believe Sect Leader Jiang shall be arriving soon to officiate it."

"Wait, huh?" Jiang Cheng sputters before Wei Wuxian has a chance to. "What arrangement?"

Wei Wuxian had been sincerely hoping he wouldn't be swept up in the tumultuous matchmaking scheme that has infested the Cloud Recesses. From the sounds of it, it seems his fate has been decided for him already. Oh, well, as long as the young maiden doesn't mind his love for fine wine and won't ask too much of him in the way of house chores, he's sure it won't end too badly. He'll be a better husband than Jin Zixuan ever could, that's for sure. "Who's the lucky soul that I'm engaging?"

"Unlucky soul, more like." All three of them stare at Jin Zixuan with wide eyes, waiting for his answer. He snorts, looking off to the side. "Oh, what a coincidence, there he is."

Wei Wuxian violently turns his head to see what Jin Zixuan is seeing. Over on he other side of the courtyard, Lan Wangji is standing before his older brother, and staring back at Wei Wuxian with an unreadable expression on his face. "What? But that's just..."

Jin Zixuan's haughty smile grows wider as he looks Wei Wuxian in the eyes. "You're being engaged to Lan Wangji."

[godsofhumanity]

I adore your Titan HCs, do you have any for the younger generation?

*jotaro kujo voice* YES! YES! YES! YES!

❤ warning: long post ahead! ❤

PROMETHEUS

okay full disclaimer- Prometheus is my favourite titan <3

i imagine him to be that guy that you bring home to meet your parents and they instantly love him... he's the guy that other parents see and are like "yeah he's a good kid, you should be more like him".

i think Prometheus does have a little bit of a mischievous side, but he's NOT immoral.

he enjoys good pranks and funny jokes, but he's not obscene- he's just cheerful.

i also think Prometheus is very intelligent. from all of the younger generation, i think he's the smartest and the wisest.

Prometheus is also very considerate and gentle. i don't think he's the kind to yell or shout.

he doesn't get "angry" as much as he gets "disappointed" (which we all know is worse T-T).

during the Titanomachy, the original myths say that Prometheus sides with Zeus, but i wanted to elaborate on this further- my hc is that Prometheus didn’t just side with Zeus, he had, for some time before he even knew Zeus existed, been going around and rallying the other younger Titans to form a resistance.

i think that he grew up around Cronus’ palace and watched Cronus as he slowly corrupted himself, and Prometheus knew that it was time for change. 

so i think that Prometheus and a few of his cousins had a little superhero group going on, and when they finally met Zeus, i think Prometheus was essentially Zeus’ right-hand man. i don’t think they always saw eye-to-eye, but i think Zeus appreciated Prometheus’ advice and leadership skills, and this just makes the fire incident all the more tragic </3

about the fire incident- i think that Prometheus has a genuine love for humanity. to him, humans are the children of the gods and he believes that it's the gods’ responsibility to take care of them.

which is why he risks his life to grant humanity fire- he knows how important it is for them to survive, and his heart bleeds every time he sees the gods abuse and interfere with them </3

in a previous set of hc's (scroll down to the Cronus section), i mentioned that i think Prometheus' love for humanity began as a child when he saw Cronus create the first age of man- the Golden Age.

i think he was quite captivated by these living beings not born from the gods, but molded and shaped by them in their image. and i think that really impacted him deeply.

Prometheus' wife is Hesione, and i think that when Prometheus stole the fire from Zeus, he did it because he knew that Hesione is a strong goddess, and he knew that she'd support him (which i think she does!). i think his whole family shares his love for humanity.

when Prometheus was chained to the rock, i think Deucalion was still very small and didn't quite understand where his dad had gone, so i have this hc that when Deucalion grows up, he actually goes to the rock where his dad is chained and they talk it out- and Prometheus expects that Deucalion will be full of hate for him because he left them all alone, but in fact, Deucalion is a lot like Prometheus, and he actually really looks up to his dad and he’s proud to be Prometheus’ son, and he’s proud to help humanity the way his dad did :)))

more Prometheus hc's as well Atlas, Menoetius, Anchiale and Epimetheus hc's here <3

HELIOS

i think Helios is a bit of goofball.

in my head, he’s this incredibly handsome and elegant looking titan... he looks so cool and he’s turning heads when he walks.. but then he trips on the pavement because he got distracted looking at a frog on the sidewalk.

Helios is very kind, i think.

in the myths that he appears in, it’s usually because he’s seen something happening to someone somewhere and now someone else wants to know what’s up so they consult him- and it’s occurred to me that Helios literally never refuses to help.

he helps Demeter when Persephone went missing, he told Hephaestus when he saw Aphrodite and Ares having an affair. he helps his granddaughter, Medea, even after she commits a bunch of atrocities. i think at his core, he’s just a very amiable titan.

i think he does have a bit of an ego. he’s proud of who he is and who is family is. he knows that he’s important and that the work he does is important. but Helios isn’t arrogant or boastful about it. he values honour and despises cowardice.

Helios is very energetic. when he gets excited, i think he jumps around a lot and he just wants to tell everyone and anyone about what’s made him so excited.

in some myths, they say that Helios’ wife was Perse, an Oceanid, but my hc for him is that he doesn’t really have one wife- he has many consorts, and i think he doesn’t really care for settling down.

he’d think of himself as a romantic.

also, Helios is very paternal. i think he loves his children more than anything else in the world. he probably shows pictures of his kids to everyone, “hey have you seen my daughter? she literally just turned some guy’s friends into pigs,, isn’t she awesome? #prouddadmoment”

i don’t think that Helios is the brightest bulb in the shed. he’s not stupid, but i don’t think he’s an intellectual genius the way i’d say Prometheus probably is.

in the previous section, i mentioned the idea that the younger titans had a little resistance group, and i think Helios was a part of this group.

i have this brotp idea that consists of Prometheus, Helios and Pallas being bros. i think Prometheus brings the brains, Helios brings the looks, and Pallas brings the brawn.

i’ve always wondered why the younger titans never seem to have that much of a role in Olympus- i mean, it’s always Zeus and his siblings, despite the other titans being quite powerful (i mean, Helios is literally the Sun). my hc for this is that after Prometheus was so brutally punished by Zeus for the fire incident, everyone was pretty hurt- i mean, they were closer to Prometheus than to Zeus, so seeing him being punished like that was just extremely sad and heartbreaking for the rest of the titans.

i think as a result of the incident, the rest of the titans kinda distanced themselves from Olympus. no one wanted to be there anymore because it felt wrong.

i like the idea that Helios visits Prometheus at his rock often, and they sit and chat and Helios tells him about everything that’s happening :)

SELENE

i think that Selene is the eldest of Hyperion’s children. first came Selene, then Eos, and then Helios- the moon is followed by the dawn which heralds the coming of the sun and the start of a new day.

Selene is very tall. i imagine her to look very beautiful, but also very intimidating.

while her siblings are described as having numerous lovers, i don’t think Selene is much of a romantic. the only love of her life was the mortal Endymion.

i think Selene is very guarded. she comes across to people who don’t know her as cold and aloof, but that couldn’t be further from the truth- in fact, i think Selene is very emotional, but she’s not vocal about it.

she expresses her feelings through actions rather than words.

just as i think Helios was part of Prometheus’ little resistance force, i think Selene and Eos were as well.

as siblings, i think Selene, Eos and Helios are super close- they are quite inseparable. they’re all very protective of each other as well, and they’d defend each other at any cost.

EOS

Eos is the middle child in Hyperion’s family.

i think she’s very energetic and passionate. she’s incredibly friendly and not-shy.

as the goddess of dawn, i think she generally is a pretty gentle soul, but she can also be very loud.

i think she has more than a short temper- it’s a fleeting temper. she’ll start yelling and screaming, but then she’ll see a butterfly and she’ll calm down immediately.

Eos is also a little whimsical. she can be indecisive about what she wants or what she feels- that’s not to say that she’s deceiving. i don’t think she has a deceptive bone in her body- she always says what she’s thinking, maybe sometimes without a filter.

but even so, i don’t think Eos plans ahead. she’s a live-in-the-moment type of girl. 

in the Eos-Tithonus myth, when Tithonus starts to age because Eos forgot to gift him eternal youthfulness to go with his immortality, Eos takes pity on the poor guy and turns him into a cicada- and even though it was kinda Eos’ fault that Tithonus was suffering from old age to begin with, i think it was a kind gesture that she relieved his suffering, rather than just ignoring him.

related to cicadas- i think Eos love bugs and critters and stuff like that. she loves all animals, and that includes little insects.

there’s a myth where Eos sleeps with Ares and incurs Aphrodite’s wrath- Aphrodite punishes her to be filled with insatiable lust and that’s why Eos kidnaps a lot of pretty boys. but tbh, i like the idea that Eos, at her core, is just naturally a lover.

i think she’s a bit of romantic, and she falls in love easily.

i think she appreciates typical romantic sentiments- roses, and chocolate.

of course, i think her greatest love is Astraeus, her husband (more about him below ^-^).

more Eos hc's here :D

PALLAS

Pallas is one of the titans who doesn't really have too much lore.

the Latin author Hyginus calls Pallas "the giant", and he was assumed to be the titan god of warcraft, so this makes me imagine Pallas to be decently tall, and muscular.

Pallas in my head is pretty stoic. i don't think he's all that verbal with his emotions.

in saying this, i don't think he's averse to saying what he feels- he doesn't think that emotions are a bad thing, he just doesn't express it too much.

earlier in this hc set, i mentioned my hc that Prometheus, Helios and Pallas have a brotp. i think that Prometheus and Pallas, in particular, are really close- Pallas is the son of Crius who was thrown into Tartarus for siding with Cronus, so i imagine that Pallas and his brothers must have grown up with Prometheus and his siblings.

related to his domain of warcraft, i think Pallas is a really good fighter. i think he likes to fight, but he's very honourable.

if he lost in a fight, i don't think he'd be a sore loser, or he'd rage about it- he'd accept his defeat with grace and dignity, and he'd acknowledge the strength of his opponent.

in my previous set of hc's for the elder titans (scroll down to Eurybia's section), i mentioned that although Pallas likely would have sided with Cronus rather than Zeus during the Titanomachy in the original myths, my hc is that Pallas sided with Zeus instead.

this ties in with my hc that Pallas is an honourable and noble titan.

Pallas' wife is Styx and i have this hc that while on a hunt, Pallas went to wash his bloody weapons in Styx's river, not realising that she was there. and Styx was really mad about him "polluting" her river so they fought. and i think Pallas was really impressed by her fighting skills, and eventually they became friends, and then lovers, and then they got married.

i also think Pallas was really lackadaisical about it- i mean, i don't think he's a romantic at all. he just looked at Styx one day and was like, "hey do you want to get married?", and Styx, who is also generally pretty chill agreed <3 i think they are probably the most chill couple from the younger titans.

PERSES

my hc is that Perses is the middle child in Crius and Eurybia's family. Pallas is the oldest, and Astraeus is the youngest.

i think Perses, from all his siblings, is the most like Crius.

he's very intelligent, and sensible. he's quite mature.

Perses' name means "to ravage" or "to destroy" which paints a pretty brutal idea of him. but i personally don't think that Perses is violent as much as he is a strategic and skilled fighter.

i like the idea that Pallas taught Perses to fight <3

i think he's a little colder than his siblings, and i think he has blind loyalty to his king, which is why i agree with the traditional lore that suggests that Perses ended up in Tartarus after the Titanomachy.

in the previous set of hc's (scroll down to Eurybia's section), i mentioned that i think Eurybia has moments where she can fly into quite a ruthless rage- i think Perses inherits this from his mum.

on Perses' wikipedia page, it says that he "was wed to Asteria", which, when i first read it, sounded pretty cold and aloof. i mean, it didn't say that Asteria was his consort, or his wife (which sounds more intimate and familiar), it just says that he was wed (which sounds like it's just something that *happened*)...

what i'm trying to say, is that i don't think Asteria and Perses had a love marriage- i think it was probably arranged.

that's not necessarily a bad thing. i think Perses and Asteria both agreed to it, and i think that for the most part of their marriage, though they may have not been in love with each other, they were certainly quite content to be together.

Perses, though he can seem indifferent to those around him, is still kind. i think he's very patient, and respectful.

i've said before that i like the idea of having Hecate's magic something that Hecate inherited from Perses' side and Asteria's- i think Coeus (Asteria's father) was pretty nifty at magic as was Crius (Perses' father), and i think Perses and Asteria both inherited this and passed it on to Hecate.

ASTRAEUS

Astraeus is referred to as the titan god of the dusk, and he was also associated with the winds and the constellations.

my hc is that, unlike his older brothers, Astraeus is a lot more in touch with his emotions. i think he's quite vocal about it.

in terms of personality, i think Astraeus closely resembles his mum, Eurybia.

more often than not, he's always smiling and laughing, and being positive.

i also think that Astraeus is a gooey romantic. he's the cheesy type.. the cringey lover.

Astraeus' wife is Eos, which makes a lot of sense thematically since Astraeus represents dusk, and Eos represents dawn.

i have a hc that Astraeus fell in love with Eos the first time he saw her- love at first sight. and i think Eos felt the same way.

because Eos represents the dawn, i imagine that she's an early riser.. i mean, really really early- 3 AM. Astraeus meanwhile, who represents the dusk, is a little bit of a late riser.

i have this hc that Eos stopped by his house at some obscene time in the morning and woke him up so that he could ride with her in her chariot and witness the sunrise the way she sees it, and it was the most beautiful thing Astraeus had ever seen (besides Eos of course <3).

anyways, then they got married and sickened everyone to death with their cringey nicknames for each other.

in the original myths, it's mentioned that Eos had many lovers on the side, but i think Astraeus is okay with it- i don't think he feels threatened by Eos' affairs because he's knows that he's the only true one.

also, i'm not sure whether Astraeus was originally sent to Tartarus, but my hc is that he fought on Zeus' side through Prometheus' little super-titan resistance team. this makes sense to me not simply because i like Astraeus and i don't want him to rot in Tartarus, but as the god of the dusk, he has a pretty important role as a personified concept. so it doesn't make sense why he would get removed from the narrative like that.

ASTERIA

Asteria is best known as being the mother of Hecate by Perses.

as i've already said, i think that Asteria was quite proficient with magic herself, and i like the idea that she taught Hecate.

in terms of personality, i imagine Asteria to be very clever, and witty. i think she's very gracious and patient. i don't think that Asteria is much of a fighter- she doesn't like violence or conflict, but she hates injustice more, and she is willing to make reasonable sacrifices if the cause is just.

my hc is that she is close to her cousin Prometheus. i think they get along very well because they have similar personalities. i also like the idea of her being good friends with Hesione, who becomes Prometheus' wife.

during the Titanomachy, she almost definitely sided with Zeus in the original myths, and i agree with that idea.

after the war, the myths say that Zeus pursued Asteria as well as her sister Leto, but Asteria rejected his advances. in most myths, Zeus' unrelenting pursuit of her ends with Asteria escaping from him by transforming into the island which becomes known as Delos.

i like the idea of Asteria becoming Delos which, as we know, becomes the refuge of Leto when she gives birth to Apollo and Artemis. i like the idea of family always finding away to provide support, BUT i don't like the aspect of Zeus as a forceful and insatiable god.

so my hc is that while Zeus did chase after Asteria, i think Delos had already been created by Asteria previously as a place for her to raise Hecate, and when Asteria returned to that place, i think Zeus knew that it wasn't happening and he gracefully gave up.

i mentioned in Perses' hc's that i think Asteria and Perses had an arranged marriage. i think their marriage was interrupted by the Titanomachy, and although Asteria took Zeus' side, i think Perses took Cronus' side- which definitely led to a little conflict within their family.

my hc is that Asteria already knew that she was pregnant with Hecate during the Titanomachy and she wanted a better life for her daughter which is why she fought alongside Zeus, and i think she also knew that Perses wouldn't fight against Cronus- so she had to choose between her child and her husband, and she chose her child.

after Olympus gets established, i think Asteria and Leto live on Delos together, happily retired, the way they deserve <3

LETO

i've actually already done a few Leto hc's here so i won't repeat them :)

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Arrival - Bit 1)

Prologue Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Arrival - Bit 1

And here we are back on our way out to Callisto with a bunch of grumpy Tracys, their Dad, their Uncle and a former enemy. It’s all sunshine and lollipops...not. :D But there is some great scenery :D

As always, many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ @janetm74​ and @onereyofstarlight​ You guys are absolutely amazing and so patient with my crazy. Bri, you are a great teacher for a dunderhead like me :D

Anyways, here we are back on board the Excel. I hope you enjoy. :D

-o-o-o-

Part Three

Virgil ended up dosing Gordon as the aquanaut turned positively green after the second jump.

He dragged his brother to the infirmary and made him lie down for the rest of the ion pause. Gordon protested the anti-nausea injection, but Virgil wasn’t willing to risk airborne innards. He was barely holding it together himself.

John, surprisingly wasn’t much better. Not that the casual observer would be able to tell. His space brother was the master of self-control. But Virgil could see the tightness around his mouth, the slightly pale cast to his skin…he kept an eye on him.

By the third jump, Virgil was dosing himself with anti-nausea meds.

It was the oddest feeling. His body wanted to register it as a g-force, but it wasn’t quite the same. It hit his stomach and his head and it was like spinning in both directions at once.

Ergh, even thinking about it was nauseating.

John didn’t need any medication. Or so he claimed. As far as Virgil was concerned, it came damned close. He kept an eagle eye on his space brother anyway.

As for the rest of the crew...Scott and Alan didn’t appear to even notice the issue, their Dad grunted a little and Uncle Lee made several salty comments.

Michael just arched an eyebrow when Virgil queried him.

Before the fourth jump he forcibly dragged them all through the tiny sickbay, just in case.

The whining was extensive.

But this was new technology. A threat to call back to Grandma was all it took to shift both his father and Uncle Lee. Who could have known their uncle was mildly terrified of their grandmother.

His father was rather amused. The story behind that one was not fully divulged, but it lightened the atmosphere a little.

Michael worshipped Mrs Tracy, as he called her, and was out of his seat so fast, he created eddies in the artificial atmosphere.

Virgil was not going to question that one at all.

Ultimately, Virgil didn’t find anything wrong with any of his brothers or the others, but he did record all observations. Perhaps the reason could be found and negated sometime down the track.

In the meantime, Gordon and himself were suitably drugged up and Alan’s smart-ass comment on the matter stamped on by Scott.

Finally, thank god, they emerged from the fifth jump and Alan was able to shift to more familiar spaceflight permanently.

Beside Virgil, Gordon let out a relieved sigh.

The ship shuddered as the ion engines were once again engaged. Alan’s skill was ever so prominent and Virgil felt nothing but pride for his little brother. He must remember to mention it to the squirt later on.

John, still looking a little green, ran his fingers over his board and brought up their forward view on the main ‘projector.

“Well, I have to say that is quite a sight.” Dad’s voice was suitably awed.

Virgil’s jaw dropped.

Jupiter.

It was massive.

And far more impressive in person than through a telescope.

The huge gas giant was still distant, but the sun behind them lit it up in all its glory. Its brilliant swirls of colour were in such contrast to the black around it, it was like a hole in the fabric of space-time, a window to another dimension.

Its iconic red spot glared at them like an eye.

Virgil knew the planet well from both photographs and Five’s telescopes. Its colours were fascinating and inspirational. He’d done a few pours in acrylic to emulate the gaseous agitation with mixed results. One hung in John’s room, even. But nothing compared to this.

“That is one honkin’ great big ball o’ gas.”

Virgil flattened his gaze and glared at the back of Uncle Lee’s head. Beside him, Gordon snorted.

Typical.

On the hologram, labels suddenly appeared identifying each of the features in the space-scape. Ganymede coasted slowly on the left, Io was a tiny dot casting a shadow on Jupiter’s surface and an arrow pointed out where Europa was obscured by the giant planet.

Jupiter’s ring was located, along with several of its seventy-odd asteroid moon hoard.

A glance at John had Virgil smiling. The expression on his space brother’s face was a sight to behold. It was as if he had discovered the holy grail…which, considering the importance of the Jovian system, was a good analogy.

This was John paradise.

“Receiving recognition signal from Callisto.” His space brother’s expression shifted to one of quiet amusement as his fingers poked his console.

“How the hell did you get here so quick?!” The hologram that suddenly appeared in the middle of the cockpit was energetic to say the least. Graeme Walters was a bald, heavy-set man in his fifties. Fiery eyes set deeply below steel grey eyebrows were striking by themselves, but it was the extravagant moko that was the dominant feature of his expression. The black etched design on the entirety of the right side of his face spoke of his mother’s Maori ancestry.

Those dark eyes didn’t wait for an answer as they glanced around, only to fixate on Virgil’s father. “Jeff?”

“Hey, Gray. Long time, no see.”

The man stared for a long moment, lips pressing together. A drawn in breath. “Good to see you, Space Jockey.” The relieved smile that infused his face was a big one.

But it didn’t last long.

Scott spoke up. “Mr Walters, we are responding to your distress call. What is your situation?”

Dark eyes flickered to the commander, a frown forming between them. “Ju and Kate were exploring the caves beneath the Base. They extend for hundreds of kilometres in all directions. They took three staff and one of our spelunking crawlers towards the north. Kate is fascinated by the Asgard impact zone and in particular Burr crater. They had planned to be gone a week. We lost contact yesterday, only two days in.” A map appeared in the hologram. “We think they made it to Burr, but we are unsure as our sensors are swamped with interference.”

“Interference?” John sat up straighter. “Send me a radiological profile of the area.”

Walters blinked and gestured at something out of range. “It’s yours. Though I’m hoping that big fancy rocket you’re riding has more bang for its buck than our orbital.”

John’s voice was calm. “I can assure you, Mr Walters, we have plenty of bang.” His brother was intent on his console, frowning at whatever the Base commander had sent him.

“Good.” He turned back to Jeff. “Looking forward to a beer in your honour, Jeff. Park your rocket in orbit and I’ll see you down here asap.” A curl of his lips. “Watch the Jefferson. I’ve just had her waxed.” The hologram blinked out.

“The Jefferson?”

Nobody answered him and the cockpit was suddenly quiet.

Virgil wondered if it was pure accident his father didn’t know or if Scott and John had left the name out of the briefing on purpose. Hell, why hadn’t Uncle Lee told him? Perhaps they had meant to approach Dad later in private. Perhaps Virgil should have done that himself, but the rush to leave…

Damn.

The massive space hauler that had brought the Callisto mission to the moon had left Earth in 2056 a year after their father had gone missing.

Virgil sighed internally. ‘Gone missing’ was a euphemism for ‘died’ that they all used. They didn’t name spaceships after people they thought might be coming back.

“On approach.” Alan’s words snapped him out of his thoughts.

His little brother tweaked the view on the main projector.

Dad was tight-lipped as he stared up at the scene.

Jupiter still hung in the distance like a massive Christmas ornament, but its second largest moon was swelling in the foreground.

Callisto was a moon of rock and ice. Unlike her sister, Europa, the surface was not one continuous blanket of white. More a cratered wasteland, the moon’s ancient crust sparkled like it was dusted with glitter. As the Excel powered into orbit, that glittery surface turned its eye towards them.

And it was an eye. Not like the red spot that continued to stare at them from Jupiter, but a single massive crater outshining the millions of smaller ones, glaring up at them from the surface.

Words appeared on the display yet again. Valhalla.

“Wow. Something hit hard.” Gordon’s voice beside him was little more than a whisper.

The Excel swooped past and around the moon, turning away from Jupiter as she caught the curve of a new orbit. Virgil’s attention was focussed on Callisto, so he didn’t see the approach of the other ship at first.

“There she is.” Alan’s voice was awe itself. “The Jefferson Tracy.”

“You let them name a ship after me?”

Again that silence enveloped the cockpit.

Scott sighed. “It was a sign of respect, Dad.” His eyes were sad as he looked up at the display.

Jeff stared at the commander for a long moment. Scott simply stared back, the expression on his face enough to clench Virgil’s heart.

Uncle Lee was either oblivious or strategic in his words. “Jeff, she is a beauty. Just look at those engines. She hauled the entire base all the way out here and didn’t blink.” He grinned at the ship as she slowly floated past. There were enough similarities in design between the Jefferson and Thunderbird Two in the way the hauler carried chained ‘modules’ and sported a massive rocket on her backend for Virgil to admire. But she was many times the size of his ‘bird, had never seen planetfall and never would, having been built in space.

Zero X technology had been the next step in space exploration.

The Zero X had failed.

The Jefferson was the result. Alternate technology named after the man the original technology had taken.

Most of her modules were missing and no doubt deployed on the moon, but the hauler was still massive, her giant hull decked out in blue and silver.

A splash of red on her bow completed the illusion. While she was built more like a giant Thunderbird Two, she drew her paint job from a much smaller craft.

“Well, that looks familiar.” Gordon murmured beside Virgil.

He had to agree. Even the white lettering down the side of the huge craft that spelt out their father’s name was an echo of the Thunderbird lettering down One’s flank.

“Why?” Their father didn’t specify who he was addressing, but it wasn’t necessary.

Scott sat straighter in his seat. “As I said, they wanted to show their respect. I couldn’t see the harm. Tracy Industries was a major sponsor, after all.” And they had been hurting.

Bad.

Virgil remembered far too well. Scott had received the request after a long and hard day. He had been vulnerable and had sought out Virgil’s counsel.

It had been like declaring Dad dead and it had hurt so much. But the opportunity to see their father so recognised, so esteemed by the planet he had sacrificed himself for…in the end there had been no question of giving permission.

It was what their father would have wanted.

They hadn’t expected him to actually see the Jefferson Tracy.

Again Uncle Lee spoke up, this time his voice was unusually quiet. “Berry and Ju just wanted you to keep them safe, Jeff. You were our lucky charm, after all.”

Virgil’s father frowned at the engineer.

Jeff opened his mouth, but Alan cut him off. “Orbital stability achieved and locked in.”

The Jefferson passed them at a respectable distance on its own orbital trajectory and sailed off towards the moon’s curved horizon. Below them, another very large impact crater slowly rotated into view.

The word ‘Asgard’ appeared on the display.

Scott’s voice was sharp as he unstrapped himself. “That’s our target. John, what are the specifics?”

The astronaut turned his seat around to face them all. “The Base is contained within Doh crater, part of the Asgard complex.” An arrow appeared on the display pointing at a tiny shadow at the centre of the massive crater. “The docking facilities are large enough to support Thunderbird Three. Alan, I recommend a rear landing. Let’s not drill a hole in their hangar.”

“Well, yeah, derrr.”

Gordon piped up. “No, it’s D’oh, little bro.” The aquanaut grinned.

John did not roll his eyes. Not quite.

Virgil had no such control and just groaned.

“What? I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Gordon.” Scott’s voice was firm, but Virgil could see the slight crinkle around Scott’s eyes and appreciated Gordon’s effort to break up the atmosphere a little.

John ignored both of them. “Gravity is only 0.126g, even less than Earth’s Moon, so no stupid stunts.” Virgil wasn’t going to argue with the glare John sent in Scott’s direction, but when Uncle Lee picked up on it, the snort was a big one.

“It will be like being home on Alfie again.” The whack Lee planted on their father’s back was a solid one. “Hey, Space Jockey.”

The glare Dad shot at Uncle Lee was scathing. “Don’t you start.”

“Oh, it’s all coming back to me now.”

Virgil’s father grunted in disgust.

Uncle Lee only grinned more.

“We have a mission here, people.” Scott glared at all of them.

That shut up everyone and Virgil felt like throttling his brother. They were on pace. The break in tension was worth the moment.

Virgil straightened. “We have a number of pods available. I recommend a combination of all-terrain. We have the Dragonfly geared for low gravity environment, but it will depend on the size of these caves. John?”

“I’ve only just begun analysis, but as the Commander Walters said, Base sensors are badly compromised. I’ve tapped into the Jefferson with similar results. Using Thunderbird Five I hope to locate and negate the issue. Eos is working on it as we speak. My focus once the last communications buoy is connected, will be finding lifesigns and assistance with mapping the reported caves.”

“Thank you, John. Alan, you’re in Thunderbird Three. Virgil and Gordon, you’re with me. Dad-“

“I’m going down with you, Scott.”

“Me, too.” Uncle Lee was virtually bouncing in his seat.

Scott’s lips pressed together. “As I was saying, gear up and I’ll see you in Thunderbird Three.” The commander’s eyes flitted to Virgil ever so briefly, but the medic got the meaning immediately.

Medical supplies would be fully stocked.

Scott pushed off from his chair.

“Thunderbirds are go.”

-o-o-o-

Next

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 05

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: sorry for the delay, i’ve been having a bit of a writer’s block recently and started getting out of it now. thank you so much for the support so far, hope you enjoy this one xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Sebastian was very much a powerful man in the way he carried himself to the way he spoke. She mostly stood by his side, basking in the glorious power he seemed to so easily hold over everyone who spoke to him. They spoke to him as if he were a king and, somehow, he was. After all, he managed to keep his family’s mob name still on top of any other and somehow even improved it, at least she heard from rumours on the street. All but one single guest had been polite, probably due to the fear he irradiated, that one being a guy named Thompson Williams. Mr. Williams was what Mr. Forrest called a mob rat, feeding on the wealth of those who had built it themselves without dirtying a single finger. His voice was mellow like snake’s venom, the politeness the fakest she’d ever heard, even Sebastian seemed to rush the conversation.

In order to do so, he had decided to finally dance with his fiancée, pulling her away from a pretty blonde haired guy she has been flirting with. Unhappily, Gwen put on a forced smile as he twirled her around the dance floor surrounded by other mob bosses and their wives. Seeing couples always brought a tinge of sadness to her. If there was something she knew is that she had to constantly be by Gwen’s side no matter her status which didn’t give her enough time to fin someone and if she did, she didn’t exactly think they would be happy to live with another couple. Besides, she was already in her early twenties and still to have a significant relationship with someone, the only one getting close being a guy she had met in private school who had taken her first kiss but other than that she just watched everyone fall in love while she waited in the wings.

Soon enough, Gwen was pulling her onto the dance floor, sending her off dancing with several men whose hands would constantly need to be watched fear they went lower than before. Whenever she thought she could step out of the dance floor and go stand, someone else was grabbing her hand to dance or Gwen was pulling her back in. As the seventh song finished, she managed to rush to the side, hiding behind one of Sebastian’s bodyguards before they could pull her back on the dance floor. She leaned against one of the table, soothing her very tired feet due to the unbelievably high heels he was using. 

      - Are you hiding, Y/N? - Sebastian came up from behind her, making her squeak ever so slightly due to the surprise. 

      - My feet really hurt. - she ever so slightly raised her feet. - I think Mr. Garret stepped on me a couple of times too. 

       - Mr. Garret is one for the wines. I wouldn’t put it against him as doing it on purpose. 

       - You and Gwen make a beautiful couple. - she gave him a warm feeling, not entirely sure why she felt sadness whenever she said so. Maybe it was because none of them really wanted to be in that relationship despite how great they looked together. - Although I must say, I didn’t pen you for dancing.

       - Well, I was gonna ask you for a dance considering you’ve danced with every single man here but me. - he extended his hand towards her and despite the numbing sensation of her feet, she could find it within herself to deny him. She placed her hand upon his, tiptoeing a bit towards the dance floor. 

Y/N considered herself a good dancer, at least a nice one to lead with but with Sebastian, things were slightly different. Her small squeak escaped her lips as he put his hands on her waist. She could almost feel the texture of his fingers through the thin beige lace fabric and suddenly she wished she had picked a thicker fabric. He was much more skilled at it than her, or maybe he was better at hiding how nervous he was. The latter was definitely true as he found it harder to control the grin that was trying to escape his polite stoic face as he felt her warm skin against his hand.

She turned her face looking at the people who were staring at him. She guessed that being that powerful had the disadvantage of the constant gaze of those trying to usurp his place. However, there was a sort of hiding kindness in his baby blue eyes, light, bright eyes contrasted to the darkness that followed him around. No, there was some sort of happiness in those eyes, a remnant of the child he once was. 

      - Everyone is staring at you. - she spoke for the first time ever they had started to dance, her eyes moving up to stare at his, the familiar nervousness starting to brew up and manifest itself in the heat up of her cheeks, warmer than the several candles displayed around the room. 

      - Trust me, angel, it is not me they’re staring at. - he twirled her around, pushing her a bit more towards his chest once she returned to her initial position. Y/N could feel every single cell on her body electrify and heat up. 

      - Maybe ... maybe you should return to dancing with Gwen. - appearances once again were important and Y/N knew it wouldn’t look good for the couple being celebrated being on two opposite ends of the room. She was the one to step away, half bowing to him and clapping as the song ended. Before Sebastian could even process her words, she had already departed to the sidelines of the dance floor, tapping Gwen’s shoulder and sending her straight to her fiancé. 

It was still a harsh truth for her brain to process. As an English graduate, she was, as most graduates of the same course, an incurable romantic adoring the idea of kissing in the rain and small gestures that prove complete knowledge over your loved one. Here there were no hidden love, no unrequited affection, they were just getting married to form an alliance, to follow a contract set way before Gwen was born. Y/N understood her friend’s side and unwillingness to bend to the rules expected from her, she had always been a wild spirit who enjoyed relishing on her youth. However, she wasn’t one to agree with the constant petty remarks towards Sebastian. 

     - A remarkable party, isn’t it Miss Y/N? - Y/N sighed, watching Mr. Williams walk up to her side, a glass of red wine in hand.

     - I would say so. - she replied politely. 

     - That is a very particular necklace you have there. - Thompson pointed at the necklace nested in the middle of her collarbones. - A gift from Mr. Stan, I would guess.

     - No, I’ve had this necklace since I was born. However, with all due respect Mr. Williams, I don’t feel comfortable enough to discuss my personal life with you. 

     - You seem rather comfortable with Mr. Stan. - Y/N didn’t enjoy the undertones in his voice, taking a few steps behind and going onto a protective state. - Miss Y/N, you can trust me. Whenever you need anything, I’m here.

     - I appreciate the gesture, Mr. Williams. I’ll keep it in mind. 

     - You’ll keep what in mind? - never once had Y/N been so happy to hear Sebastian’s voice and feel him looming presence behind her. Mr. Williams, however, seemed to keep his composure, merely raising his glass as a curtesy to the mob boss. 

     - I was just paying your new employee my respects, Stan. Offering my aid if ever in need. 

     - She won’t need your help. - he scoffed at the idea of a lower rank mobster being ever able to provide Y/N with someone he couldn’t. If Y/N ever needed something she was to come to him not to a rat like Thompson Williams who had made a small empire by screwing others over. No, Y/N would never need help from someone like him, if it was up to Sebastian’s will. Gwen too did not enjoy to see her friend speak with guys like Thompson, and like a spy was standing a few feet apart from the three, glass in hand, watching with a few bodyguards in hand if needed. - If you excuse me, my fiancée and I are retiring for tonight. 

     - Have a nice night, Mr. Stan, Miss Y/N. - she didn’t know how to explain it but her name felt wrong in that tongue. Like it shouldn’t be said and before she could politely reply as she had been taught, Sebastian already had a hold on her wrist, pushing her towards Genevieve who was willingly waiting to make sure her friend was alright.

     - We are going home, right now. - Sebastian muttered to one of his bodyguards, ready to end the parade of his personal life. On the other hand, Gwen had other plans not exactly agreeing with leaving a party thrown in her honour that early. Y/N noticed her change in attitude, fully knowing exactly how her friend behaved whenever she didn’t agree with something. - Now means now, Genevieve. 

      - I’m staying, you can go. - Gwen looked at Y/N, her eyes begging for her to plead with Sebastian so she could stay over. Should she do it? No. Was she gonna do it? Well, it was Gwen, her oldest friend, so with a sight, Y/N turned on her heel to face the mob boss. 

      - We could go now and maybe let Gwen stay here with the bodyguards. For appearances. - she suggested and Sebastian seemed to pounder it. It was rather clear to him what Y/N was trying to achieve, she wasn’t that sneaky, however, he also did not want to have a fight with his fiancée for everyone to see. - I could stay too. 

     - No, Y/N, you can go. - Gwen definitely did not want to have a babysitter following her around and telling her to be mindful of her role, despite that being Y/N’s job since they were children. - I know you don’t like these functions anyway. 

Sebastian did not reply, instead bolting out of the room followed by one of his bodyguards. Y/N gave Gwen a “be careful” look before rushing after him the best she could in her heels until she reached him, stopping him by grabbing onto the sleeve of his suit. The mob boss stopped, glancing for a few seconds at Y/N before sighing, placing his hand on the small of her back and leading her towards the limo. He couldn’t be mad at her for defending her friends, however, he could be mad at both of them not to follow orders, specially his orders. Sebastian was not one to have his control tested yet Y/N unknowingly did it. 

     - Do not disobey me next time. - he almost growled at her, watching as Y/N moved away from him, her innocent nature returning on full display. 

     - I’m sorry, Mr. Stan. - she bit on her lip, leaning against the limo’s window. 

     - I understand your loyalty towards Genevieve but I’ve been in this environment much longer than you and her have been. I know better. 

     - She’s young, marriage isn’t exactly what she wanted specially to someone like you?

    - Someone like me? - she briefly looked to the side and even though she was in the dark of the night inside the limo, she was met by clean white teeth gritted down at her as well as a deep dark angry glared directed at her, of course. - Care to explain?

     - A stranger. - she stated, playing with the fabric of her dress as not to look him in the eye. 

    - No, angel, that’s not what you meant. - he knew when someone was lying, his profession, if that could be said, called for that ability and she was lying. If not, she was at least trying to be kind. - What did you mean by someone like me?

    - Well ... your ... your reputation follows you. 

   - You should know your friend’s reputation follows her too, she isn’t exactly the type of woman I would enjoy to marry. 

The atmosphere was heavy and none of them really knew how to break the ice. Every once in a while she would look at him, briefly trying to see if his posture had relaxed but he kept on with his statue like posture which continued even as they rode the lift back to the penthouse. He took back to his office while Y/N stood at the entrance of the penthouse. Sighing, she took her shoes off and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a cup of iced water. Just like she used to do back in her old home, she stripped off her dress standing in a corset and petit coat that gave volume to the dress and sat on the balcony, drinking her glass of iced water. 

Y/N knew better not to annoy Gwen or Sebastian, however, it feared her more to disobey Sebastian. He had enough power and men to dispose of her and make it look like an accident, however it wasn’t that which made her not want to disappoint him. It was something else.

She climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

It had been a long day.

tag list: @sideeffectsofyou​ @lilya-petrichor​ @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater

[nillegible]

Not Death, but Sleep

(A 3zun fix-it fic)

‘Not death, but sleep,’ the story went. The little well spirit, too weak to break the death-curse that a greater dark spirit that had placed over the innocent baby, had pressed her hand to the infant’s forehead. She had poured all her soul into a single blessing, all her strength for one thing only; that the child would sleep, not die.

“Why couldn’t she practice and grow stronger?” Meng Yao would ask, and Mother would laugh and poke his cheek and tell him that well-spirits are very small, but she tried her best. The story always sat wrongly with Meng Yao. Back then it had, at least. It was not fair that the well spirit couldn’t fix what was wrong. It wasn’t fair that the princess had been cursed as a baby, before she’d done anything to deserve it. It wasn’t fair that the queen couldn’t find anyone but a forgotten little well-spirit to try to save her child. “It’s not fair,” he’d tell her, each time the well-spirit blessed the infant and fell short of her desire, and each time his mother would smile.

“Ah, my precious A-Yao, you are right. But the world is not fair, and she could only do what she could do.” Mother would say, smiling in that soft way of hers, pinching his cheek lightly, before she continued the story. “Because it seemed hopeless, the king demanded that every spindle in the land be…”

Meng Yao Jin Guangyao likes the story no better now, but he understands more than he did back then. Jin Guangyao was also too weak. “She could only do what she could,” Mother would say, and he now understands the heartbreak of that being not enough.

“I want you to kill Nie Mingjue,” Father had told him, two weeks ago, now. His voice had been low but pleasant, like he’d only been asking Jin Guangyao to pour him more tea.

“Father, I’m trying to get him to stop asking about Xue Yang, I’m sure that I can–”

“I have given you time. And it is not just that boy. Nie Mingjue grows troublesome in other matters as well, he seeks to destabilize me at every turn. You will remove him.” His voice had stayed pleasant. His eyes had glittered coldly with warning: Jin Guangyao was far less valuable than a Sect Leader, and would be far far easier to dispose of.

“I understand Father. I will take care of it,” Jin Guangao had said, and has not had a moment’s peace since.

*

It doesn’t take him long to decide on a method.

Or rather, it’s not long before the ideal method is dropped straight into his lap. Er-ge requests a favor, asks him to please learn Cleansing, a powerful Lan sect technique to clear resentment and settle an unquiet spirit. Nie Mingjue’s temper and health were in decline, and Er-ge wants Jin Guangyao to help him heal. His hope – that this would give them an opportunity to mend the broken trust and friendship between them – was transparently obvious, but Jin Guangyao has never found place in his heart to deny this man anything.

“We can help him, A-Yao. We must. Da-ge is not himself, and we need to… We cannot lose him.”

Lying is no harder than speaking, for Meng Yao, but this time the lie tears into his lungs. “Of course, Er-ge. His brothers will support him until he is well again.” I’ve been asked to kill him, Er-ge. Why would you trust me with this?

It does not matter that he does not want to do it. Jin Guangyao practices Cleansing at Qinghe under Lan Xichen’s careful tutelage. At Lanling, he spends sleepless nights perfecting a darker, foreign melody, meant to tear someone’s sanity apart.

His heart is troubled, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the lack of sleep, the discordant notes he coaxes from his guqin each night, or the cold, lingering gaze of his Father that seems to ask, have you begun? Will he die?

The answer is yes. Yes, Jin Guangyao will kill him, because he has been asked. Because when it comes down to it, he is the dark spirit that had lost its way, and would destroy someone who was undeserving of the malice. Someone who was loved.

The first time that Jin Guangyao plays the piece for Nie Mingjue, his heart pounds in fear while his hands elegantly play the butchered, chimeric tune. He’s afraid that his eldest sworn brother would notice the difference in the song, would notice that it felt wrong, even after the last note is played and lingers in the room as he looks up to meet Nie Mingjue’s eyes. But Nie Mingjue, even tenser and more ill-tempered than he was before Jin Guangyao started to play, just nods and thanks him shortly and walks away.

It’s terribly rude; Jin Guangyao would be injured by such treatment on any other day.

Today, he has begun slowly killing the man. He will not take insult.

*

Jin Guangyao spends his time after returning to Lanling terribly nervous, unable to focus as usual. Perhaps Nie Mingjue had not confronted him immediately, but would reached out to Lan Xichen with his suspicions?

His fears are unfounded; a letter arrives for him a week later from Sect Leader Nie. Could he trouble Jin Guangyao to return and play for him soon? He did not wish to disturb their second brother, who was still busy with the rebuilding of his sect.

Jin Guangyao promptly sends a response: He would be honoured to help, he would make the time to visit as soon as possible. (His fingers do not tremble on the guqin strings as he practices the song alone, in preparation. He wonders at the monster he’s become.)

It’s while he’s playing for Nie Mingjue the second time that it happens. His eldest sworn brother is doing his best to relax – there’s incense, and the tea they were served has calming properties – but Jin Guangyao’s music is doing as intended, and Nie Mingjue’s face is visibly tense, his jaw locked, and the longer it goes on the worse it gets.

It’s partly the music, partly the frustration that he isn’t calming down as he should be. Jin Guangyao imagines that it is not unlike the panic that insomnia brings him, the desperate desire to just fall asleep making him anxious enough to drive any semblance of rest from him as he lies awake in the dark.

His fingers fumble on the strings and he stops, startled. Nie Mingjue’s eyes open and he looks to him questioningly. “Is something wrong, Meng Yao?”

It’s the wrong name. Always the wrong name. But at the moment, for what he wishes, it may just be the right one. Nie Mingjue has wronged Meng Yao many times, but Nie Mingjue was also the one who had defended him from cultivators who taunted and mistreated him. Nie Mingjue was the first person to value him, to give him a chance to prove his worth, and then acknowledged that he did well.

It was because the queen had swept the well-spirit’s forgotten shrine, Jin Guangao remembers. That was why the well-spirit stepped up to divert the curse.

He stares a moment longer at Nie Mingjue, long enough that he frowns, and this time Jin Guangao imagines his brows are creasing in worry not anger. “Are you alright, you’ve gone pale.” His voice still betrays his temper; a barely contained inferno, but Jin Guangyao is partially to blame for that.

“Forgive, me, Da-ge. May I start again?”

“If you need a break, you can have one. You can play for me later,” Nie Mingjue says.

“No, please, close your eyes again. I merely realized something.”

Still looking faintly suspicious, Nie Mingjue does as asked and shuts his eyes.

Jin Guangyao sets his fingers to the guqin and plays again. This time the music is simple and clear, lifting and rejuvenating. When Jin Guangyao plays the last notes and looks up, the anger has melted away from his sworn brother. He’s smiling faintly, and Jin Guangyao’s eyes catch on the softness of it.

When Nie Mingjue opens his eyes, and sees Jin Guangyao watching, the smile doesn’t fade. “You figured something out, didn’t you? This time felt so much better.”

“Yes, Da-ge. I was a poor student, Er-ge will not be pleased with me for taking so long… but I understand now.”

“Xichen will never be displeased with you, that you play it so well without the Lan’s rigorous training is a credit to your skills. And I thank you,” Nie Mingjue says. He breathes deep, as if enjoying that he can. That faint smile has still not vanished. “I am much improved.”

Jin Guangao knows. The spiritual power of Cleansing is considerable, and when played correctly and regularly it could bolster Nie Mingjue’s spirit and life for decades longer.

“You’re welcome Da-ge. I promise. I promise to do what I can to help you.” And this promise is not a lie, not a vow he means to break.

Father wants Nie Mingjue dead, and Jin Guangao does not have the means to stop him.

But he can divert the curse.

Not death, but sleep.  

That, Jin Guangao can do.

[Author’s Note: The particular form of the sleeping beauty story used here I got from Vathara’s fic Embers! It’s a gorgeous version and I love it. 

Somehow an old post of mine, where I said I should write a fic about MY hiding NMJ away and faking his death to appease JGS popped back up? I’d completely forgotten about it. But well, it’s a lovely idea, so I thought I’d start on it!  I hope you liked the fic!]

[razieltwelve]

Writing Genre Fiction

Not all fiction is the same. It’s why we often divide stories according to which genre or sub-genre they belong to. In the case of fantasy, it’s not unusual to see stories classified as epic fantasy, or humorous fantasy, or dark fantasy, amongst many others. Each of these genres or sub-genres has its own quirks and conventions, and a reader can generally tell whether or not a story fits fairly quickly. As a writer, then, what are some of the things you should consider when writing for a particular genre or sub-genre?

In my opinion, it comes down to the five crucial aspects of a story:

Characters

Plot

Setting

Themes/ideas

Writing technique

Each of these five areas is vital to the success of a story and each genre or sub-genre has its own conventions that apply to each of these areas. Adhering to these conventions, or at least acknowledging them, is the easiest way to ensure your story fits into a particular genre or sub-genre. To illustrate this, let’s pretend we’re trying to write a humorous fantasy or a dark fantasy story.

Characters

Characters are the heart of a story. There are very, very, very few stories that can survive having boring and formulaic characters. In contrast, readers are often willing to overlook a lot of flaws in a story if the characters are interesting and engaging enough. If you want to write a humorous fantasy, then you need to make sure that humour is a part of your characters.

Let’s start off with one of the stereotypes of fantasy fiction: the adventurer. Now, adventurers are commonplace in fantasy fiction. If we want readers to know that they’re reading a humorous fantasy, then we need to make our adventurer a humorous fellow. Now, this doesn’t mean that the adventurer has to be funny. On the contrary, it is entirely acceptable for their misfortune to be the cause of other people’s mirth. Consider the following introduction:

Jeremy could still remember the day he’d first joined the Adventurer’s Guild. They’d given him a wooden plate with his name on it and told him to go kill some goblins. That first mission hadn’t gone exactly to plan. If it hadn’t been for a serendipitous landslide annihilating the goblins’ camp, he might well have met his end then and there. However, there was nothing wrong with a bit of luck to start a man’s adventuring career off. Surely, it wouldn’t be long before his wooden plate gave way to a copper one and then a silver one and then perhaps even a gold one. Ideally, he’d get to platinum one day, but he didn’t want to be too arrogant.

Of course, his first mission hadn’t been the only one that hadn’t gone to plan. The second hadn’t gone to plan either, nor had the third, or the fourth, or the fifth… In fact, it had been ten years and twenty-seven missions, and he still had a wooden plate dangling around his neck. On the upside, he’d finally upgraded from a pointy wooden stick to a proper spear. It was progress. Kind of.

Now, the moment a reader gets through those two paragraphs, they’re going to know what kind of story this is. It’s going to be a humorous fantasy. The very nature of the character (Jeremy) makes it clear that humour is going to play a part in the story. What if we wanted to write a dark fantasy? Well, we’d have to approach it differently:

Ten years and twenty-seven missions. That’s how long he’d been eking out a living. Mission to mission. Day to day. Never knowing when he’d finally bite off more than he could chew. He’d done everything he could to rise up through the ranks, but nothing had worked. He’d lost a few fingers for his troubles – and more than a few friends. The best nights were the ones he didn’t dream. But when he did dream…

Gods. He could still hear the screams. He’d seen fellow adventurers ripped to bits by goblins, crushed under landslides, or set ablaze by fire drakes. It wasn’t skill that had allowed him to survive. It was luck. And maybe a bit of cowardice. But adventuring wasn’t a job for heroes. No. Heroes got killed quickly. It took a cunning man to survive, and a cunning man had to be willing to cut his losses, even if it meant losing a few friends in the process. It might make it hard to sleep at night, but it was still better than ending up in a dragon’s belly or on some ogre’s skewer.

Again, you can see how the character himself is quite a dour, pragmatic fellow. This already makes it obvious that the story will have different feel to it than the earlier one. Moreover, his explanation of his history makes it very clear that this is a world where bad things can and do happen quite frequently to people in his profession. Moreover, his admission that running and abandoning people is acceptable demonstrates a certain… darkness to the world he inhabits.

Characters often reflect the genres or sub-genres they are a part of. If you want to write a humorous fantasy or a dark fantasy, then that needs to be reflected in your characters.

Plot

The plot is another critical part of a story. It is, simply speaking, the sequence of events that occurs throughout the story. Once again, the plot itself can be used to signpost what sort of story a reader is dealing with, and readers who want to read a particular genre or sub-genre will almost always expect certain things from the plot.

For a humorous fantasy, this often means a subversion of expectations to create humour. Since fantasy, as a genre, has so many expectations, this is actually not as difficult as it might seem at first glance. Imagine you’re reading a story and you get this for a plot:

Prince Zachary was the second-most dashing prince in all the land. To become the most dashing prince, all he needed was to rescue a princess. It’s a pity, then, that there aren’t any princesses that need saving. What to do? Well… why not use his royal wealth to train a commoner to pretend to be a princess before hiring a dragon to pretend kidnap her? He could then ‘rescue’ the princess and claim the number one ranking. What could possibly go wrong? How about everything.

As you can see, the plot subverts a whole host of expectations in a way that immediately makes it clear that this is going to be a humorous story. Indeed, the plot is perfectly set up to create humorous situations from beginning to end. Now, what if we wanted to write a dark fantasy? Dark fantasy has its own expectations, and in this case, we’ll want to conform to them. That means taking the normal fantasy tropes and ideas and adding some grim darkness to them.

Prince Zachary was once the heir to the second-most prosperous kingdom in the land, but betrayal saw the downfall of his family. Robbed of his birthright and forced to wander the land disguised as a commoner, Zachary struggles to survive. Ambushed on a lonely road by bandits, he finds himself on the verge of death. Wounded, penniless, and alone, Zachary has no choice but to abandon his honour to survive. If he wants to reclaim his throne, he’ll have to become the same sort of monster as the traitors who struck down his family.

Dark fantasy features dark themes (as the name suggests), and this generally needs to be reflected in the plot. Betrayal, tragedy, and general horribleness are all parts of dark fantasy, and you’re going to need to have them in your plot if you want to write a dark fantasy. It’s not a coincidence that so many dark fantasy stories have what seems to be a whole dictionary’s worth of awful things happening to people.

The plot your story has can often be one of the biggest tells as to which genre or sub-genre it belongs to. A humorous fantasy will often have a humorous plot. A dark fantasy will often have a darker plot.

Setting

The setting of a story is the world in which the story exists as well as the rules that govern that world. What sort of setting you have will greatly influence how your story is perceived by the reader. As you can imagine, a setting full of tragedy and woe will lend itself more easily to a dark fantasy story… unless you make the tragedy and woe so utterly ridiculous that it becomes funny, in which case you’ll end up with a humorous fantasy. Don’t believe? Let’s try it out.

Evermere is a world riven with conflict. Its petty kings have fought for centuries, and their wars have done nothing but wreak havoc and suffering upon common folk and nobles alike. Driven to ever greater depths of desperation, the squabbling kings have turned to demonic pacts to further their power. Now, demons walk the land, harvesting the souls of all those unfortunate to cross their path and inflicting even greater tortures on all those who dare to oppose them.

Yeah. The world described above is pretty awful. It’s got all the ingredients you need for a dark fantasy because it allows you to deploy all of the most common tropes, traditions, and conventions (e.g., people getting tortured, civilians getting wiped out, people being betrayed, bloody conflict for petty reasons, etc.).

But what if we turned the tragedy and woe up to eleven? Well, then you’d get a setting that actually lends itself to humour:

Evermere is a world where kings are a dime a dozen. Wait. That was last week. Right now it’s about a penny a dozen – royal inflation and all that because of all the unnecessary kin-slaying and treachery. And let’s not forget the demons. Constant civil war wasn’t bad enough. Someone actually thought getting demons involved was a good idea. Now the local tax collectors are joined by demonic soul collectors in a never-ending bid to suck commoners and nobles alike dry of all their wealth and their souls.

As you can see, the setting here makes it clear that this is going to be a humorous sort of story despite it being quite dark. Indeed, the increased darkness is such that it actually goes from being dark to being amusingly over the top.

Setting matters. The world your story is set in is what gives it context. Dark fantasy stories often have dark settings. Likewise humorous fantasy stories tend to have humorous settings. In a dark fantasy, demons might expect payment in souls. In a humorous fantasy story, demons might demand payment in limited edition action figures.

Themes/Ideas

Every story has themes and ideas. In some stories, these might play a very central role. In others, they are more in the background. By now, you can tell where I’m going with this. Each genre or sub-genre has themes that occur quite frequently. Including these themes will often make it easier to write for those genres or sub-genres.

If you want to write a dark fantasy, it’s likely you’ll end up including themes or ideas like:

Betrayal

Crime paying off

The good guys not always winning

Pragmatism over honour

Moral relativism

What makes humorous fantasy (and humour in general) a bit of a special case is it’s not so much about what themes or ideas you employ but more about how you use them. For example, you can write a perfectly serviceable humorous fantasy using the themes given above with a few tweaks. Have the betrayal at the heart of the story be something petty, such as two wizards going to war because one dared to wear the same robes as the other to a prestigious convention. As for moral relativism, instead of making it a complex discussion about moral shades of grey, make it a story about a guy who has realised that sometimes it makes sense to pay a dragon to eat the bandits who’re troubling your village.

Certain themes and ideas lend themselves best to particular genres and sub-genres. Making use of those themes and ideas will help you to write a story that satisfies the reader and fits into those genres and sub-genres.

Writing Technique

Writing technique refers to the technical aspects of writing, such as word choice, sentence composition, and so on. Different genres and sub-genres are written in different ways, so conforming (or not conforming) to those standards can make your life as a writer easier.

Take something like epic fantasy. In most epic fantasies, you tend to see more advanced vocabulary and longer, more complex sentences. The prose will often come across as a bit florid or even purple to those who aren’t fond of epic fantasy stories. In contrast, dark fantasy stories tend to lean more toward more succinct prose and grittier descriptions and exposition. Battle isn’t some glorious, heroic endeavour out of story and song. It is brutal and ugly and bloody and all too real. Likewise, humorous fantasy has its own writing techniques, such as hyperbole, contrast, and so on.

Just contrast these descriptions of a battle.

Blood. The coppery smell of it filled the air. Gerard’s spear caught in his opponent’s gut, and the dying man lunged forward with his sword. Gerard let go of the spear and dodged the desperate slash before he drew his dagger and jammed it into the man’s throat. Blood spewed from the wound, and he shoved the other man into the muck of the battlefield. At his feet, a wounded man clutched at his leg. He kicked him in the face and yanked his spear free. There was still plenty of killing to do.

That, as you can imagine, would fit well into a dark fantasy. It’s gritty, realistic, and definitely dark. Now, how about something different:

The two men circled each other, their blades at the ready, each as keen for battle as a berserk wolverine. With all the grace of two walruses fighting on the shore, the pair lunged forward. To call what followed combat would have been an insult to the word combat. It was closer to the deranged flailing of two half-witted drunks.

The writing style should immediately give away that this isn’t a serious story. Instead, it’s a humorous one.

Writing technique can greatly impact how a story is perceived. Things like word choice, sentence construction, metaphor, exaggeration, and more can all help define what genre or sub-genre a story belongs to.

Summary

If you want to write a genre story, then you need to understand how that genre works. Each genre has its own rules, expectations, and conventions. You don’t need to slavishly follow all of them, but incorporating at least some of them into the characters, plot, setting, themes/ideas, and writing techniques you employ will make your task far easier – and far more enjoyable for the readers. This applies to areas as diverse as dark fantasy and humorous fantasy.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

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[awhitehead17]

ohoho my goodness okay so for the prompt thing I think it’s be cool if you wrote something about the batfam being absolute trash at board games because detective skills get you no where in candy land. Maybe they’re just playing among themselves and those who haven’t been in the vigilante business as long as the others are better at it or maybe they’re playing with the jla, that’s up to you! No pressure tho, I’d just like to see where you’d go with this. I hope you’re well!

Thanks for the prompt, it was certainly an interesting one to try and come up with scenarios for and I apologise that it’s taken so long to answer this!! 

So this basically ended up being the batfam playing different board games and roasting each other, hope that’s okay because it may not be what you had in mind. 

Hopefully you’ll enjoy it nonetheless! :D 

“Well this is just unrealistic.” Tim comments scowling at the board on the floor in front of him.

Next to him Steph lets out a long groan and cradles her face in her hands in frustration. “It’s a board game Tim! It’s not supposed to be realistic.”

“You’re just mad because you guessed wrong and are now out of the game.” Harper laughs at him from her position opposite him. “Tim Drake, a sore loser, who knew?”

“I’m not a sore loser!” Tim almost yells back feeling himself get worked up in both anger and embarrassment. “This game is stupid.”

“Because you lost.”

“Because it’s unrealistic.”

“I would have thought this game was right up your street dude, but obviously not.” Duke says from Tim’s right, looking a bit despondent at this revelation. Tim sends him a glare, not appreciating his input in the conversation.

Duke isn’t fazed by it, he ignores the look and gestures at the board in front of them. “Cluedo is a detective game and you’re a detective, how did you get it wrong?”

To stop himself from lashing out at Duke, Tim forces himself to take a deep breath. He is getting ridiculously wound up over this stupid game and the others with their goading isn’t helping matters.

“You know why,” Steph remarks with a smirk, “because that giant ass brain of his over thought it all and since he over analysed it, he got it wrong.”

There’s moment of silence in the room after Steph stops talking. Tim huffs at her statement but finds that he really can’t argue against it because that’s probably exactly what happened.

Steph leans back onto her elbows so she’s sprawled out over the floor, “it’s just a game, there’s no need to get so defensive over it. It’s supposed to be a bit of fun with a little mystery involved.”

That elicits a snort from Harper. She gives the blonde a disbelieving side look. “Have you seen yourself when playing Mario Kart? I’ll be sure to use those exact words next time you’re putting a sailor to shame for the language you come out with when a blue shell hits you.”

Steph rolls her eyes. “I’m not that bad.”

“You totally rival Jason when it comes to mouthing off at Mario Kart Steph. Don’t deny it.” Tim says, contributing to the conversation. He’s pleased that the topic has moved away from him and onto Steph.

Steph opens her mouth to respond but Duke beats her to it. He waves his note pad around wildly. “As fun as it is to roast one another, there’s a game here still to be played.”

Grumbling underneath her breath Steph sits back up and the four of them continue with the game at hand, or at least the three others do. Tim had guessed wrong and now has to sit by to watch, but on the bright side he gets to judge all of their movements now knowing the truth.

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The grimace that crosses his face is entirely instinctual as soon as he sees what box is placed down on the table. With a quick glance around he sees three other’s mirroring his look. Dick opens his mouth to make the comment of why the chosen game may not be wise but instead he shuts his mouth and keeps quiet. He figures they need to learn somehow, being told what to expect is different to actually experiencing it.

It’s currently a rare Sunday afternoon when a majority of the family is over at the Manor at the same time. It’s probably because of the weather that everyone has unintentionally gathered together in the media room, with it heavily raining no one really wants to go adventuring outside.

Dick finds himself surrounded by his younger siblings, some of the extended family they’ve adopted over time and Bruce himself. All of them now sitting around the table after deciding to play a board game together.

That probably should have been the first warning sign. Dick really ought to know better but he had been distracted by the feeling of having all of his family around for once when no one has been injured or the reason why they’re together being a life-threatening crisis.

The decision of what board game to play takes almost twenty minutes to decide. Even then they hadn’t actually decided what to play, it got decided that everyone would place a game of their choice into a hat and it would get chosen at random.

That’s when the worst one of the bunch got chosen. Dick could see the same look he was wearing appearing on his brother’s faces.

Monopoly. That’s the game that’s been decided.

“Is it safe to assume that today is the end of the batfamily?” Steph comments with a laugh.

Almost everyone around the table gives her an odd look and only a couple chuckle along with her. From past experiences when playing this game, Dick knows it’s not the falling out part that’s the issue, the main issue is that Bruce absolutely dominates the game every time. It’s no fun playing with his adoptive father, this is something he’s learnt the hard way. His brothers also had learnt this the hard way, that being the explanation behind the grimaces they all share.

“I would rather play literally anything else.” Tim states boldly looking around, though his eyes often flicker to Bruce.

The two seats to his right are occupied by a confused looking Duke and Cass. “Why? Monopoly’s not so bad, sure it’s long and can get tedious. We’ve played this game before.”

Tim sends him a pointed look but it’s Jason who speaks up from the opposite side of the table. “Yeah sure, but that’s because you haven’t played with Bruce before. You’ll come to despise this game by the end of today.”

“Father gets rather self-assertive when playing this particular game. While I admire his skills and efficiency of winning this so-called game, father tends to take the apparent competition away any time he plays.” Damian claims from his position on Jason’s left.

The youngest Wayne is now scowling at the box on the table with obvious resentment from past experiences.

If Duke looked confused before, now he seems utterly baffled.

“Oh I’m not that bad.” Bruce declares sounded offended. Dick knows him better however, he’s completely faking it. He knows exactly what he’s like with this game.

“Bruce will literally bankrupt everyone within like five rounds of this game.” Tim says glancing around.

Silence falls over them after that and it feels like everyone is deciding whether they should in fact play or not. Of course the earlier members of the family know exactly what’s in store for them if they do play but the newer members don’t.

In the end Steph stands up and grabs the box, clearly stating she doesn’t care and can they just get on with it because staring at one another isn’t getting them anywhere. As the board gets set up Dick shares a knowing, helpless look with his brothers. Well they have to learn at some point.

Three hours later, half of those around the table have their heads in their heads and were wearing disbelieving looks on their faces. It’s as funny as it is depressing.

“This is ridiculous,” Steph mutters glaring at the table, “this is so unfair.”

“Well, I’ll do the honours by saying; we told you so.” Tim gloats with a smirk at the blonde. Steph decidedly glares at Tim instead of the table.

Jason bark of laughter causes Dick to crack at grin at the various of reactions the family is having to Bruce’s domination of the game. The man is stacked with money, having nearly owned every property on the board and has practically bankrupted three quarters of them by now.

“This is why you don’t play Monopoly with Bruce. Hope you all learned your lesson now!” Dick laughs.

There’s a low groan from Duke who soon mumbles out, “Yeah just a bit….”

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“Whoever decided this game can go to hell…” Tim mutters underneath his breath scowling at the paper in front of him.

Next to him Jason snorts. “You only say that because you know who chose this game.”

“My point still stands.”

“Enough.” Dick dejects in an attempt to stop an argument from happening. “Knock it off, we’ve all had our turns to choose and now it’s his turn.”

“But he can’t even play it right!” Tim whines, it’s like he’s a child throwing a tantrum.

“Y’know, no one is making you play.” Duke points out from his spot on the floor, his focus is on the paper in his hands as he continues to draw whatever he needs to.

Tim huffs and kicks his leg out, successfully knocking Duke off balance. Duke doesn’t rise to the bait, he simply grabs Tim’s ankle and shoves it away. “Real mature Tim.”

“Tim likes to complain when things aren’t going his way, he’s immature like that.” Steph comments with a laugh. Next to her Cass is smiling away as she nods her in agreement.

A group of them has gathered into the living room of Dick’s apartment on a slow evening and all have sprawled out across the place. Jason, Dick and Tim are sharing a sofa with Duke perched on a cushion by their feet on the floor. Steph and Cass were sprawled out on the second couch and Damian is adjacent to them all sitting in the love seat.

It’s been a recent between them all, having game nights and taking in turns to choose what is to be played. This time happens to be Damian’s turn and the youngest has chosen to play Pictionary.

It’s a good game, one that is generally enjoyed by the majority of the family, however, what Tim had been referring to, is that when playing with Damian, he tends to lose the point of the game. He takes every drawing too seriously and spends an unreasonable amount of time on each word.

Because it’s Damian, every drawing has to be perfect before he shows them or even hints at what he’s drawing. They’ve tried to explain to him multiple times that the drawings don’t have to be perfect, as long as they are recognisable then that’s all that matters, but the kid refuses to listen.

It can make playing with him very frustrating.

Him, Jason and Tim are used to it, but it seems like Duke and the girls are all taking it in stride. They only get through a couple rounds within like an hour thanks to Damian and it’s getting to the point where Dick is beginning to think that Damian is actually doing it on purpose because he can see how much it’s riling up Tim.

Brotherly love right there.

They’re just finishing off the third round and sharing their terribly drawn pictures with one another. Duke holds his piece of paper up with a sheepish smile, “I tried okay. It wasn’t easy.”

“What is that?” Damian demands as he squints at the mess of blue squiggles on the page.

“It’s supposed to be a sunrise, my word was morning but no one got it.”

“Tt, that’s not a surprise Thomas as that looks nothing like a morning, or a sunrise for that matter.”

“Well, jeeze, thanks Damian. I only had 60 seconds to come up with something and draw it.”

When Damian tuts in obvious displeasure, Dick simply rubs a hand over his face. That kid… he loves him, he does but sometimes he certainly makes it difficult to do so. While Duke is still new to the family, he’s been around long enough to get a feel for what Damian can be like. He simply rolls his eyes and turns the paper away.

“Cass what is that supposed to be?”

Jason’s question to Cass gets his attention, he looks in their direction to find Jason frowning at the piece of paper Cass is showing him. His sister shrugs not looking at all embarrassed with her attempts to draw whatever it’s supposed to be. Dick couldn’t work it out either. As far as he could tell it’s a solid colour of black on the page.

“An eclipse.”

Her answer makes Jason even more confused. “So you decided to colour the whole page black?”

“It creates a shadow…”

“Right.”

In the end Jason shakes his head and leans against the back of the sofa. His expression makes it clear that he’s simply done with everything tonight. Dick snorts at his behaviour before he feels a nudge on his left side.

Tim is looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t you just love game nights Dick? They’re great right?”

His voice is dripping with sarcasm and Dick restrains himself from commenting on it. He does love game nights with his siblings but they sure as hell make it a challenge sometimes. All of them do. Not one of them is innocent.

But as he looks around at the scene he knows he wouldn’t change it. While not all of them are currently present, game nights are an opportunity to hang out outside of the masks, any public personas they play and any emergencies that may be happening.

Dick leans back against the sofa and mumbles underneath his breath as he watches Duke and Damian bicker about the art of drawing under pressure and about how to play the game correctly. “I actually do, yeah.”