#I haven’t been showing y’all but I genuinely can’t stop drawing her I think I have a disease

[pm0]

artist who only draws julie joyful voice: you guys will NOT believe who I just drew today

[lillian-lang]

Zutarians, I need some help...

Happy Zutara week, y’all! I’m Lil.

I’ve been working on my fic for...awhile now, and I’m at the point where everything’s kind of turned into word salad. I’d like to finish this thing, soon, but I need editors - badly. So, if you’re one of those folks who can write. (And particularly if you can write Katara or Zuko’s voice really well.) Please, please take a look. Friendly feedback is welcome!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653406/chapters/62276836

And here’s an excerpt from a Zutara moment below the cut:

Katara looks out from high up in the north wing of the palace—reserved especially for the royal family and their guests. She can see across acres of bleak concrete pavement leading up to the palace gates and, behind them, the jagged volcano walls of the capital city rising in the distance. It isn’t a particularly comforting sight.

Fifty-six bacui berry, fifty-seven bacui berry, …she counts to herself. Until, finally, she reaches one hundred bacui berry, and turns away from the gray window, back towards Azula’s wide canopy bed. The princess’s mouth hangs open and a trickle of drool spills out, but otherwise, she looks better than she had an hour ago. Katara removes the last acupuncture needle from her wrist and places it onto a gauze pad, which she rolls up and hands to Zuko.

“These need to be sterilized in a white-hot flame for twenty minutes before they can be used again,” she instructs.

Zuko puts a hand up to the bundle. A flame appears at the center of his palm. “Do you want me to just—?”

“Sorry Zuko, but you’re not hot enough,” she says, without thinking.

The corners of his mouth flicker upward into the kind of smirk she hasn’t seen since his ponytail days.  Spirits, he’s infuriating, she thinks—grateful that her skin is dark enough to hide a blush. She removes the rest of her supplies from Azula’s bedside and takes a seat by the window, trying to ignore the burning sensation of Zuko’s eyes lingering on the back of her neck. She forces herself to concentrate on the little vials and instruments in her hand, but it’s no good. Everything is in the wrong place. She’ll have to take it all out again and repack it later.

“Katara,” he says, coming up beside her at the window. “Did you ever read Love Amongst the Dragons?”

Katara shoots him a wry smile. “No,” she says. “Funnily enough, we didn’t have a lot of fire nation epics in our village library.”

“Azula made fun of me, but I always liked it.” He smiles a little to himself, then points, drawing Katara’s attention to a spot on the grim horizon. “Do you see that mountain, there? The one that curves?”

Katara shivers, drawing a little closer to Zuko. “The one that looks like a claw?” she asks.

He nods. “I know, it’s scary, isn’t it? If you believe the old story, it’s the claw of the great dragon, himself. It’s where the name of the district comes from — Kaa Garr. Great Dragon. And, right there where the mountain turns in on itself…” he moves his finger up the pane a little so Katara can see a black spot in the distance, “is the prison where I’m keeping my father.”

Katara lets out a little involuntary gasp and presses her fingers to her mouth. Zuko looks down at her, a wry glint in his eye. “If you thought my sister’s arrangements were bad,” he says, “you should see his.”

“I’m sorry,” is all she can think to say.

“Don’t be,” he shrugs. “You know my father isn’t exactly a nice guy. I didn’t get this scar on my face from a training accident, you know?”

“I know,” Katara says, reaching up to touch the edges of his burned skin with the practiced hands of a healer.

In truth, they had never really talked about how he’d gotten his scar, but Katara had heard rumors going all the way back to her time in the Fire Nation with Toph, Sokka, and Aang. Zuko allows her fingers to wander over his scar for a moment, tracing the lines and folds on the puckered skin. He gets lost for a minute in the phantom sensation—wondering if he’s only imagining the gentle pressure. It’s so tender and intimate that his breath catches in his chest for fear that a sharp exhale might disturb the delicate balance between them. But then Azula flops over in bed, bringing Zuko back to himself. He clears his throat, and Katara’s hand drops to her side.

“It just makes me wonder if I should be trying to help my father…you know…the way you’re helping Azula.”

Katara tries not to let her emotions show on her face. She does not believe for one second that Ozai is entitled to the same treatment as his daughter, but she also believes that, ultimately, the decision is Zuko’s to make.

“Do you think your father deserves a second chance?” She asks, trying to keep her voice even.

“No!” he shouts, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. “That’s the problem, I don’t think he deserves it! But I can’t figure out why. I mean, he not that different from my sister, is he? But, every day, I felt guilty about Azula, and every day I’m grateful that my father is still locked up!”

Katara watches as Zuko paces back and forth across the antique carpet, winding himself up. “Then you came, and I feel better about Azula—I really do, Katara—but now I’m suddenly guilty about my father. I’m the fire lord, shouldn’t I at least be fair?”

“Zuko,” Katara says, holding out an arm to stop his pacing, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but when was the last time you had a bath? Or slept in a real bed?”

He blinks down at her, “Uh, it might have been a few days. Why?”

“I think,” she says, using her most soothing voice, “that all these big questions can wait for a day or two while you rest.”

He looks skeptical, but Katara insists: “Look at you, Zuko, you’re exhausted. I’m not saying that it won’t be difficult, but I promise it will all seem better in the m-morning.” As she says it, she stifles a yawn, and Katara suddenly realizes that she, too, is exhausted.

Noticing this, Zuko takes the medicine bag from her hand and, after checking all of Azula’s locks, leads her down the hall to her room. It’s hard to tell with Zuko, but he seems excited about something. The corners of his mouth keep twitching up, like he’s trying to hide a smile. The whole of the third-floor hallway smells like fresh paint, even though the hallways look the same as they’ve always been. It makes Katara’s head swim. When they arrive at what she assumes will be her bedroom here in the Fire Nation, Zuko throws open the door for her, and Katara gasps.

The room is in the style of the Fire Nation—a wooden chest for clothes, a low-slung writing table, and an imposing four poster bed, but the details are all Water Tribe. The walls are covered with bright blue paper depicting life in the poles. The furniture handles are all solid, gleaming mother of pearl. The bed is strewn with gigantic, fluffy pelts that could only have come from the south pole.

“What do you think?” Zuko asks, studying her face. “Is it too much? I had rooms made up for the Earth Kingdom and the Air Nation, too. I don’t want you to think I’m abusing your culture, but I do want my guests to feel welcome here. I know the Fire Nation royal palace isn’t anybody’s favorite place.” He winces, thinking about the terrible stain of his father’s legacy.

Katara considers Zuko kindly. He’s hovering just outside the room—neither in nor out. She realizes that she’s never felt more warmly towards the young fire lord.

“You’re a lot like your uncle, you know that?” she says, after a minute.

Katara watches as his guarded features break into a genuine smile. “Thanks,” he says, running his fingers along the edge of the doorframe. “You know I was hoping you or your brother would be the first ones to use this room.”

“You’re lucky it’s me! Sokka would be jumping on the bed, already.”

Zuko laughs, and Katara grins with pride. It’s not easy making Zuko laugh.

“I didn’t even ask!” He says, eagerly. “How is Sokka? And Aang?”

Now it’s Katara’s turn to look guarded. “Sokka’s fine,” she says, trying to keep her voice neutral. “He’s angry because he can’t go to Ba Sing Se without Appa…” Then, anticipating Zuko’s next question, Katara explains everything in a rush: “Aang left for Omashu. He got a letter from Bumi saying that the city was unstable, and he left me and Sokka behind.”

Zuko’s reaction is not what Katara expects. His eyebrow furrows, and he lets out a troubled groan, so sharp and low that Katara can almost feel the reverberations in his chest. “Katara…Bumi is dead. He died about a week ago. Didn’t Aang tell you?”

“Oh,” is all Katara can manage. She plops herself down at the end of the bed and looks up at Zuko, dazed. “No, Aang hasn’t written to me since he left for Omashu.” The admission earns her a sharp sideways glance, but she doesn’t notice. She’s too wrapped up in thoughts of the Earth King.

“What happened?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he admits, lowering himself down beside her on the bed. “The Fire Nation has…informants…in Omashu, but I haven’t heard from them in a few days.” The way he hesitates before the word ‘informants’ makes Katara wonder if he is uncomfortable having spies in the Earth Kingdom. Zuko had always preferred fair-play and transparency, even at his own expense.

“But you have suspicions,” she presses him.

He nods. “To tell you the truth, I’m glad Sokka’s not in Ba Sing Se right now.”

“Why not?” Katara gasps, “It’s not unstable, too, is it?”

“No,” he says, resting his head against the bedpost and letting his eyelids droop. “At least none of my advisors seem to think it is. I’m the one who has an issue. And it’s only a feeling, Katara…”

“Because of Kai Kozu?” she asks.

Zuko’s snaps to attention so quickly that he sprains his neck. “Where did you hear that name?” he growls.

“Bumi wrote about him in his letter to Aang,” Katara explains.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Zuko says, rubbing the sprain. “Kai Kozu used to keep a pretty low profile. Barely anyone outside the Earth Kingdom had ever heard of him… But lately he’s been moving more and more into the public eye. I don’t like it. He’s already got power in Kyoshi and Chin. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had plans for Omashu and Ba Sing Se, too.”

“Oh no! Zuko!” Katara’s hand flies to the reassuring carvings on her mother’s necklace, and she traces them apprehensively. “What about Toph and Suki? What about your uncle? Isn’t he still in the city?”

“I did write to them,” Zuko shrugs. “I asked them to stay here in the palace, but Toph and Suki are out in the country somewhere. I can’t reach them.”

“And your uncle?”

“Uncle doesn’t want to leave his tea shop. And besides…” Zuko blushes brick red, “I think he might have a lady friend in the city. He’s acting like a love-sick teenager.”

Katara watches as Zuko drags his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” she asks.

“I am,” he admits.

Katara leans back into the mountain of fluffy pillows and soft white furs, and closes her eyes—too tired to care that Zuko is still watching her. She says a silent prayer for Toph, Suki, and Iroh in Ba Sing Se, and thanks every spirit she can name for her father’s stubbornness. At least she knows Sokka is safe in the Southern Water Tribe—far, far away from the Earth Kingdom capital…

As she drifts off into sleep, she reaches out to feel Zuko’s warm body beside her—his chest rising and falling evenly. She draws a little closer, and he opens his arms wide to make room for her. She pillows her head in the crook of his arm and breathes in a scent like something out of a dream. In fact, she thinks it must have been a dream, because when she wakes up in the night he is gone, and the spot where she imagined he had lain is awash with moonlight.

[bomberqueen17]

Art: help

Another thing that is tormenting me is that I want more fanart to exist in the world, I have had people offer to draw me fanart even! which like! holy shit! what a great idea! what a fantastically kind thing to offer! but I am such a gremlin that the stages to connect a desire with an action via so much as reaching out to people who could make these things happen, seems like this enormous void. I currently have like six posts in drafts that are me attempting to word my way around this obstacle in various ways, including asks half-drafted to people, but I don’t know where to start. So, know, this is a thing about which I am thinking, but I am so bad at thinking that I literally cannot do more than nebulously think “yes” about the concept. Yes! Yes! Details? Oh uh.

It’s like-- well so most of my current ideas are Aiden, Lambert, Keira, Eskel, Ciri, and various OCs at the moment, but I know I wrote a bunch of Geralt and Jaskier and yet it’s like... no... illustratable moments happened... in any of those stories... and I can’t remember.... I actually sat down and reread a bunch of MDS to try to remind myself about that series but it’s just gone through my mind like water. As far as I can tell that story’s a featureless gray void, folks, in which nothing visual happened. People. Talked? Went places? Did things? There was a horse in it, probably? So. Phooey. IDK why y’all leave so many nice comments on a featureless gray void but I appreciate you. I have no ideas.

(I do have a very specific idea, partly helped along by a wonderful description from some-stars, about an illustration of Lambert, Keira, and Aiden, but that one’s so detailed and persnickety I should probably actually get my shit together and commission it, but I also, in case you were wondering if a post can have a theme, Do Not Know How To Go About Doing That Either. [Whomst? Howmst! Whenmst?!] Also I am actually possibly technically deranged about money, like whatever the technical definition is of ‘deranged’ that’s me, on this issue, so the thought of that also puts a great deal of pressure on the tiny jelly-like structures of my brain. I! have! money! I do! I really do! I am earning money right this second, believe it or not! [I am working, I have like five processes running, genuinely] I-- can’t stop panicking about it though! Weird how not getting paid for eight months made me really fucking weird about money. Hilarious. Ha. Ha ha. Ha. Yeah!)

But I am trying, and it is taking up most of my brain now, to bring together What [Who] Lambert Did On His Winter Vacation, and tie it into The Mystery Of The Missing Eskel, and Ciri’s First Forays Into Sugar Momming Her Hot Personal Assistant, and Meanwhile What Are Yennefer, Geralt, and Jaskier doing, so that all of them can come together into a single story i haven’t yet even fucking outlined, so. (Oh yeah Triss is in it too. Show Triss, this isn’t a horror story.)

why! is this! so stressful! i don’t know! but it is! all of it!

Listen I’ve been trying to just-- make myself cry it out for like. However many months it’s been now since the world ended. And I can’t. It doesn’t work. So. I don’t know. I don’t know how any of this works. I’m just going to, I dunno, keep keeping on, which is what people do, I think.

Please tell me, though. If you have read any of my Witcher writing, let’s imagine you’re an editor and you’re putting together a print version of it, what would you envision for like, the cover, or an illustrated plate. What single moment of any of those fics-- let’s not specify the series or anything, maybe they’re a short story collected in a magazine or something, maybe there’s a set of several volumes, who knows, this is the world of imagination and we can do what we want-- what would you have illustrated, and what would it look like?

[kyuublu]

Quick Thrills

Kyoutani Kentaro x reader

Underground Fighter AU

Part One

Song rec: Monks - Frank Ocean

5 YEARS BEFORE

The smell of booze and smoke was a thing I got used to pretty quickly, did I ever grow fond of it? Not really.

“Y/N, take out the trash wouldya?” My boss approached me from the side before taking the glass I had previously cleaned. “Yes, Sir.” I gave him a quick nod, making my way towards the back door of the small bar.

With the trash in both hands I leaned against the door, pushing my way into the cold night air. A couple of barking dogs could be heard in the distance. As I approached the garbage containers, another sound got my attention. Heavy breathing.

I turned to look at the alley behind me. A figure was uncomfortably slumped against the wall, panting like their life depended on it. Oh, its him again. After recognizing the stranger, I carelessly threw the trash into the container and decided to approach him.

“Got your ass beat again, huh?” I was a little cockier than usual, probably due to a couple of shots I had to share with some customers. The boy looked up, a bit taken back from the sudden encounter. He huffed out a chuckle and looked back to the ground.

“You should’ve seen how they looked like.”

If you looked close enough, you could make out a small glimpse of a smirk, hidden behind his harsh frown. “What a shame, I would’ve loved to see that. I only ever see you around here, all beaten up.” The boy was shaking slightly. After effects of the adrenaline probably.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go, so...” He declared, not once meeting my gaze. I only hummed in response and quickly looked at the watch on my wrist.

“My shift ends in 10 minutes. You can come over to my place after that.” His brows furrowed even more at the last comment, making me laugh a bit. He didn’t even look flustered. “I’m pretty good at handling wounds, ya know. My dad was a nurse.” Finally he turned to meet my eye. Silence.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

A grin plastered across my face, I always liked people who didn’t talk too much.

5 YEARS LATER

As I applied yet another coat of the clear liquid across my lips, my confidence visibly rose. A quick look in the mirror only confirmed my thoughts. I looked ready to manipulate yet another man.

After leaving the mess of a bathroom I was in, I quickly spotted my partner in crime.

“Is this really necessary again?”

Kyoutani Kentaro.

One of the new upcoming fighters in the underground scene in tokyo. After years of training and beating himself to the top (literally), he has finally reached the potential of becoming the best of the best. Of course, he didn’t get that far all on his own though.

“Yes Kentaro, you know how we play.” I gave him a side glance before walking up to the bar to get another drink. “Wasn’t your plan to play fair? When did that change?” He grumble as he began leaning against the counter. His eyes were wandering around the crowd until they focused on a certain spot in the VIP section. “Oh come on, that was years ago!” I waved off his attempts at leaving the club early. I knew only wanted to get out of here as fast as possible.

“Making connections, knowing your crowd. That’s what will get you even further than any of those fools that you fight against.” Holding his gaze for a minute I turned back to look for the VIP section. “You mean, milking rich guys for their money.” His brow perked up in expectation. He knew what I was doing, but he also knew it worked everytime.

“How about this? I go and get the big bad rich guys to bet on you-“ I walked infront of my dear friend as I poked his chest playfully. “And you introduce yourself, act nice for a bit and then excuse yourself because you need some rest before the game tomorrow.” The man only let out a dry chuckle before shrugging “That was my plan from the start.”

After introducing ourselves to most of the investors that were lingering around the VIP section, one caught my eye specifically. It was always the same type of guy. I could already feel the disgust of my working partner when the man shook my hand with the biggest smirk.

“Please tell me you’re going home with that guy. Anyone but him.”

“Come on ken! You know the guys I go for... And he’s one of the biggest investors for-“

Before Kyoutani could listen to any more of my drunk bullshit he stopped me with a pat on the shoulder. “Just call me if this idiot pulls some funny shit.” I giggled and nodded my head like a little kid, only to so him roll his eyes. He knew what I was getting myself into again, and he’d let me do it again.

The apartment I was currently in must’ve been huge. As soon as the investor guy, that had previously introduced himself as Atsumu, and I had entered the place there was a huge glass wall. It provided a view of the whole city. The rest was just a blurr due to his lips crashing on mine as soon as we stepped in.

“So you and Kentaro.. Is there something serious between y’all?” His voice only sounding like a whisper next to my ear. I put my head back for a second and looked him dead in the eye.

“Are you serious? I’m his manager.” I grabbed his face closer before he could make another dumb comment. Suddenly Atsumu backed away again with a smirk. “So what? Just because ya work for somebody doesn’t mean it can’t become more.”

I noticed pretty quickly that his while personality seemed to revolve around teasing people. He got off on making people visibly uncomfortable.

“Don’t compare my working ethics with your flings at the office.” The fake blonde only scoffed before guiding my hips against his more forcefully. This was gonna be a long night.

“Ya really think he’s gonna win?”

“I don’t think so, I know it.”

[Kyoutani POV]

She always does this shit. That was the first thing I thought as soon as I heard the door open at 9 am. My eyes snapped shut as she wandered around the room, clumsily getting out of her clothes and looking for the couch in the dark. The smell of alcohol filling the room caught my attention as I peaked through my barely shut eyes.

She often slept in underwear, but I still didn’t get used to the feeling it gave me when I saw her walking around so carelessly. Y/n finally found the end of the couch and slowly sprawled herself onto it. I could only see her feet peaking out from the side. I hated when she came home like that. At this point it wasn’t just reckless, she just seemed pathetic.

1st Fight

[Y/N POV]

“Aran! You looking fine as always, I see.” The man held out his arms invitingly at the sight of me. “And you haven’t changed a bit, y/n.”

After letting go from the crushing hug, I frowned at his response. “I hope that’s a compliment.”

“I would never mock you, my friend.” He patted me on the shoulder until his eyes met Kentaros behind me. The fighter wore his usual frown, which was only accentuated by the black eyeliner under his eyes.

“I’m guessing you’re the infamous Mad dog I’ve been hearing about.” Aran held out his hand but was only met with another cold stare and somewhat of a grunt. I only sighed at his behavior. He always gets weird around new people, or just almost anyone besides me in general actually. I pushed his figure towards the door Aran had previously opened for us. “Sorry, he’s always a little grumpy before a fight.” The old friend only nodded and gave Kentaro a quick glance before entering after us. He was probably weirded out like most people who met him.

“You always seem to know someone, any place we go.” Kyoutani was trudging beside me now as we headed towards the lockers.

“Well yea, you always get to know some people when you work at a bar.”

“You quit like 2 years ago.” He huffed out.

“Like I said, you gotta know your crowd and thankfully I did enough research before we entered this scene.” My friend didn’t seem to convinced as he side eyed me. Poking his side I teasingly grinned up at him.

“Just appreciate my efforts, you big baby.”

[Kyoutani POV]

After hitting my last punch I knew it was over for the guy. His eyes only showing fear before I could draw out another swing to his face. I could feel the excitement taking over me when his body landed on the floor. I knew what was coming next.

“The Winner is... Maddog!”

The referee held up my hand before the guy could even stand up properly. At this point even the small crowd of people surrounding the ring weren’t paying attention to the guy who was knocked out. Everyone seemed ecstatic.

My eyes immediately found y/n’s. Without a doubt this was the best thing about winning a fight. The cheering from the crowd was nothing against the look she gave me every single time I won. Just for a moment, it felt like I was the only one she had eyes for. A genuine smile began forming on my lips when I saw her chanting with the crowd. Sadly the moment was over way too fast.

A sudden pat on the shoulder pulled me back into reality. The referee and I spoke a quick word and then I headed out of the ring. Back at the lockers I had just calmed back down again. The adrenaline usually stayed for a couple more hours after a fight but this time it didn’t seem to go down until a certain y/h/c came into view. She held out a big chunk of money in her hand and waved it around proudly. I couldn’t hold back my smile.

“Look at my boy taking big money home tonight.” Tossing the money on the spot next to me, y/n began to come closer. “I’m proud of you.” Her smile was wholeheartedly this time again until her gaze focused back on the money.

“But don’t get too cocky for now. You know who’s coming up next.” I nodded slowly in acknowledgement. “Come on, let’s get outta here.”

After walking for what felt like hours, we finally ended up at a bus stop where a bus was already waiting for us. Not just for us though.

“Really? One of those travel buses again?”

The woman beside me sighed again at my clear frustration. “Kyoutani, you know we can’t afford some freaking limousine.” Rolling my eyes at her exaggeration, I trudged after her into the vehicle. “We could’ve at least took a train or something.” This time she didn’t reply but only showed the driver our information. After handling that, we made our way towards our seats.

I was beat after this fight, but I sure as hell wasn’t to happy about having to sleep on an uncomfortable bus seat.

“Hey, I’m sorry dude but we just can’t spend the money on whatever we feel like.” It was clear that she genuinely felt bad about the situation. I shrugged as I took the seat next to her and threw my head back.

“It’s alright, I trust you with the organizing and stuff. You’re the boss after all.” The woman suddenly perked up at the ‘boss’ remark.

“Uhh so I’m your boss now, huh? I thought I was just your little assistant that takes care of you.”

My cheeks almost began to turn red until I pushed her shoulder playfully. “Sh-Shut up ya idiot.” Her giggles filled the rustling inside the bus and made my knees weak simultaneously.

Thank god I was already sitting.

[Y/N POV]

Kyoutani was out in minutes after the bus left the station. I looked over his awkwardly placed form. His arms were crossed over his chest and his head was slightly tilted to the side.

My brows furrowed once I took in the current state of his body. He had scratches and blue spots here and there but that couldn’t compare to the pure exhaustion that was emitting from him. I knew this routine took a toll on him but everytime he came out of a fight I just felt bad. It was always a mystery to me why he had started fighting in the first place. The only thing I knew was his background of causing a lot of trouble in high school until he got kicked out of his home.

Thankfully our paths crossed pretty soon after and I took him in after finding him all busted on the streets. The idea of being his manager came when I first saw him fight in an underground competition.

My job at the bar only kept me somewhat afloat and my life seemed to be spiraling into a continuous cycle of depression.

Back then his fascination with fighting might have been out of pure need for thrill, but I was truly amazed by it. His drive shook me awake from that weird state I was in.

But it was still strange to me, what did he keep doing it for?

This guy got me way too worried. I shrugged off my thoughts, carefully placing my head against his shoulder. I slowly lulled my way into sleep as I took in the scenery of the drive to our next destination.

Shibuya

____

Hope u guys enjoyed another AU fic. Also Part 2 is coming pretty soon!

[adorpheus]

on fujoshi and fetishization

Lately, more and more, both here on tumblr and on other sites, I keep seeing people spew unfiltered hatred at fujoshi - that is, women who like mlm content such as gay fanfic and fanart featuring men with other men. And I don’t mean like a specific type of fujoshi, like the ones who are genuinely being weird about it, but just like a general hatred for girls (but especially straight identifying girls) who express love for gay romance.

I hate to break this to you all, but women (including straight women!) actually are allowed to like mlm fanfiction and fanart, even enthusiastically so. A woman simply expressing her love of gay fanfic, even if it is in kind of a cringey way or a way that you personally don’t like, is NOT automatically fetishization.

I’ve been on the receiving end of fetishization for my entire life, from a very young age, as many black and brown folx have, so I consider myself pretty well acquainted with how it works. Fetishization isn’t just like, being really into drawings of boys kissing, or whatever the fuck y’all are trying to imply on this god forsaken site. 

Fetishization is complicated imo, and can encompass a lot of things, such as (but not limited to):

1 - dehumanization, e.g. viewing a group of people as sexual objects who exist purely for entertainment purposes, rather than acknowledging them as actual people who deserve respect and rights

and

2 - projecting certain assumptions onto said people based on their race/sexuality/whatever is being fetishized. These assumptions are often, but not always, sexual in nature (like the idea that black people in general are more sexual than other races, etc etc etc).

I’m going to use myself as an example to illustrate my point. Please note this isn’t the best or most nuanced example, but it is the most simplistic. A white person finding me attractive and respectfully appreciating my black features as part of what makes me beautiful is not, on its own, fetishization. A white person finding me attractive solely or mostly because I’m a PoC is now in fetishization territory. Similarly, assuming I’m dominant because of my blackness (like saying “step on me mommy” and shit like that) is hella fetishistic. 

That being said, theres definitely a difference between how fetishization works in real life with real people, and how it shows up in fandom. 

Fetishization manifests in many different ways in fandom, but most commonly on the mlm side of things, I personally see it appear as conservative (or centrist) women who love the idea of two men together, but don’t actually like gay people, and don’t necessarily think LGBT+ people deserve rights (or “special treatment” as its sometimes dog whistled). These women view queer men as sexual objects for entertainment rather than an actual group of people who deserve to be protected from systemic oppression. I’ve noticed that they often don’t even think of the men they “ship” together as actually being gay, and may even express disgust at the idea of a character in an mlm ship being headcanon’d gay. In case its not obvious, this is pretty much exactly the same way a lot of cishet men fetishize lesbians (they see “lesbian” as a porn category, rather than like, what actual LGBT people think of when we read the word lesbian). There’s a pretty popular viral tweet thread going around where someone explains seeing this trend of conservative women who like mlm stuff, and I have also personally witnessed this phenomenon myself in more than one fandom. 

The funny thing is, maybe its just me buuuut.... The place I see this particular kind of fetishization happen most is not in the anime/BL fandom, from which the term fujoshi originates - I actually see these type of women way way more in western fandom spaces like Supernatural, Harry Potter, and Hannibal. I can’t stress this enough, there’s a shocking amount of people who are like, straight up trump supporters in these fandoms. If you want to experience it, try joining a Hannigram or Destiel group on facebook and you will probably encounter one eventually especially if you happen to be living through a major historical event. Like these women probably wouldn’t even be considered “fujoshi”, because that term doesn’t really apply to them given they aren’t in the BL/anime fandom, yet they’re the ones I personally see actually doing the most harm.

Of course this isn’t the ONLY kind of fetishizing woman in the mlm/BL world, there are other ways fetishization shows up, but this is the most toxic kind that I see.

A girl just being really into BL or whatever may be “cringe” to you, or she may be expressing her love for BL in a “cringey” way, but a straight woman really enjoying BL is not, on its own, somehow inherently fetishization. Yes, sometimes teenage girls act kind of cringe about how much they like BL and that might be annoying to you, but its not necessarily ~problematic~. 

That being said, IT NEEDS BE REMARKED that a lot of the “fujoshi” that you all hate so deeply, are actually closeted trans men or nonbinary people who haven’t yet come to terms with their gender identity, or are otherwise just NOT cishet. I know because I was one of these closeted people for years, and I honestly think tumblr and the cultural obsession around purity is one of the many reasons I was closeted so deeply for so long. STORYTIME LOL!!! In my early adolescence, I was a sort of proto “fujoshi”. I identified as a bi girl who was mostly attracted to men, or as most (biphobic) people called it, “practically straight”. I wrote and read “slash” fanfic and looked at as well as drew my own fanart. We didn’t use the term fujoshi back then, but that’s definitely how I could have been described. I was obsessed with yaoi, BL, whatever you want to call it, to a cringe-inducing degree. I really struggled to relate to most het romances, so when I first discovered yaoi fanfics (as we called them at the time), I fell in love and felt like I finally found the type of romance content that was made for me. I didn’t know exactly why, I just knew it hit different. LGBT+ fanart and fanfiction brought me an immense amount of joy, and I didn’t really think too hard about why.

At some point, in my early 20s, after reading lots of discourse™ here on tumblr and other places like twitter, I started to get the sinking feeling that my passion for gay fanfiction was ~problematic~. I had always felt a sense of guilt for being into mlm content, because literally anyone who found out I liked BL (especially the men I dated) shamed me for liking it all the fucking time (which btw is literally just homophobic, like can we talk about that?). In addition to THAT bullshit, now I’m seeing posts telling me that girls who like BL are cringey gross fetishists who inspire rage and should go die? 

Let me tell you, I internalized the fuck out of messages like this. I desperately wanted to avoid being ~problematic~. At the time, I thought being problematic was like the worst thing you could be. I was terrified of being “cancelled”, before canceling was even really a thing. I thought to myself, “oh my god, I’m gross for liking this stuff? I should stop.” I beat myself up over this. I wanted so badly to be accepted, and to be deemed a Good Person by the internet and society at large.

I tried to shape up and become a good ally (lmfao). I stopped writing fanfic and deleted all the ones I was working on at the time. I made a concerted effort to assimilate into cishet culture, including trying to indulge myself more deeply in the few fandoms I could find that had het content I did enjoy (Buffy, True Blood, Pretty Little Liars, etc). I would occasionally look at BL/fanfic/etc in private, but then I would repress my interest in it and not look for a while. Instead I would look at women in straight relationships, and create extremely heterosexual Couple Goals pinterest boards, and try to figure out how I could become more like these women, so I, too, could be loved someday. 

This cycle of repression lasted like eight years. Throughout it all, I was performing womanhood to the best of my ability and trying to become a woman that was worthy of being in a relationship. I went in and out of several “straight” relationships, wondering why they didn’t make me feel the way reading fanfic did. Most of all, I couldn’t figure out why straight intimacy didn’t work for me. I just didn’t enjoy it. I always preferred looking at or making gay fanfiction/fanart over actual intimacy with men in real life. 

Eventually, I stumbled upon a trans coming out video that someone I was following posted online, my egg started to crack, and to make an extremely long story short, after like 3 years of introspection and many gender panic attacks that I still experience to this day, I realized that I’m uh... MAYBE... NOT CIS..!? :|

I truly believe if I had just been ALLOWED TO LIKE GAY STUFF WITHOUT BEING SHAMED FOR IT, I probably would have realized I was trans way way sooner. Because for me, indulging in my love of gay romance and writing gay fanfic wasn’t me being a weirdo fetishist, it was actually me exploring my own gender identity. It is what helped me come to terms with being a nonbinary trans boy.

Not everyone realizes they are trans at age 2 or whatever the fuck. Sometimes you have to go through a cringey fujoshi phase and multiple existential crises to realize how fucking gay you are AND THATS FINE.

And one more thing - can we just be real here? 

A lot of anti-fujoshi sentiment is literally just misogyny. omg please realize this. Its “women aren’t allowed to enjoy things” but, like... with gay fanfics. Some of the anti-fujoshi posts I see come across my dash are clearly ppl projecting a caricature they invented in their head of a demonic fujoshi fetishist onto any woman who expresses what they consider to be a little too much enthusiasm for gay content and then using their perception of that individual as an excuse to justify their disdain for any women, especially straight women, ‘invading’ their ~oh so exclusive~ queer fandom spaces.

 god get over yrselfs this is gatekeeping by another name

idk why i spent so long writing this no one is even going to read it, does anyone even still use this site

*EDIT: HOLY SHIT WHEN DOING RESEARCH FOR THIS POST I FOUND OUT THAT Y-GALLERY IS BACK OMG!!! 

[iwantitiwriteit]

Slow Burn: Act I - Part 5

The Lip Sync Battle 

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: Growing tensions between you and Chris overflow in the most musical of battles.

Warnings: Profanity, drunken silliness

Notes: Oh my fucking gosh, I fucking finished it! This part was a BEAST to write! It’s hella long so it’ll be in two posts. Before you dive in, set the mood with the moodboard + music specially curated to go with this part! Read the previous part here.

“How about this one?”

“No, not neon enough!”

“Ok…” you hold up another top option, “this one?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Alright. This?“

“Uh—”

“Uggggghhhhh!!!” It’s been 45 minutes of trying to decide on an outfit and your patience is running thin. “I’m this close,” you put up a microscopic amount of space between your pointer finger and thumb, “THIS CLOSE to leaving in my pajamas. Don’t think I won’t do it!”

Your older sister, Lynn, laughs at your dramatics from her spot on the end of your bed in her guestroom. “Oooo won’t the paps love that! I just want to make sure you slay tonight! You never know what Hottie McDotties might be in there…”

You scoff, “I’m trying to be low key tonight and not draw any attention to myself. Tonight is not about me.” You look over to your sister who is distractedly sorting through the pile of clothes that’s accumulated on the bed. “Do you hear me?” 

“I hear what you're saying… I just don’t care. Now c’mon, let’s find you something sexy! I know we’re close!” You and Lynn turn back to your almost empty closet one last time. “What about that furry, hot pink thing?”

“Oh, you mean the jacket I impulse bought with the birthday boy?” You laugh thinking back to that day. It was the day you first met Scott before filming. We were only supposed to go out for lunch, and damn near bought out the whole plaza!

“Yeah, that one! That could be cute.”

“With my black, skin tight leather pants…”

“Your black, sheer and lacy corset top…”

“And the black knee highs to top it off!” You two say simultaneously making you giggle like school girls. You settle into a comfortable silence as you pull out the pieces of your outfit.

“I missed this— these moments with you, big sis. Laughing, being silly— “

“Talking about boys,” she finishes for you. You roll your eyes, but smile in agreement as Lynn continues. “Me too… god, why’d we both have to be successful?” she says mockingly, making you both laugh again. 

“Honestly, the real question is why'd you have to move to Boston?” You asked a lot less like an inquiring adult and more like a pouting toddler. 

It’s Lynn’s turn to roll her eyes as she sighs deeply. “You sound like dad.”  

“You’ve got some nerve,” she starts in a playful tone. “You’re literally the one who is never in one city for more than a day. You being here for these months is unprecedented.” It’s true; your touring schedule made it where you’d been any- and everywhere, except with family as of late.

“Now who sounds like dad.” 

“Sorry, but you opened yourself up for it!”

You huff out a sigh, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Lynn hopped up from the bed and headed for the door, “Uh-huh. I’m gonna warm up the car. Be down in 20.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

“I wasn’t asking. I was instructing.”

“And I oop— she said she’s being a big sister tonight!” you laughed out as you turned around to start getting dressed, hair and makeup already done. Lynn began to leave the room, rolling her eyes at you not taking her seriously. 

Suddenly, you were met with a pillow to the back of your head. “What the hell!” The sound of your sister running down the hall and laughing maniacally fill the house. “Hey! Not the curls!” you yelled after her, closing the door.

Just then your phone vibrated with a FaceTime call. You went over to it on the dresser and tapped the screen to answer, the view fixed on the ceiling. The screen filled with a visibly excited Scott, his face a little red from excitement, face a little sweaty from dancing. There was music and loud chatter on his end. Shit! He’s already there! I’m late! “Heeelllooooo? Anybody there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you peek one eye into the frame, “I’m getting dressed. What’s up?”

“What’s up is that everybody is here, and you are not,” he tapped his camera for emphasis. 

“I’ll be there soon. Beauty takes time, ya know!” Each sarcastic word accented with a huff and jump to get in your tight pants. “Whew!”

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott’s eyes peered with genuine curiosity as he sipped a fruity drink.

“I already told you I’m getting dressed.”

“It takes all of that?”

“Listen, as the great philosopher Beyoncé once said, ‘if you don't jump to put jeans on, baby, you don't feel my pain!’ Ok?”

Scott laughed, “OK, yes ma’am!”

“So… who all is there?” Scott knows just what you're asking; if Chris is there. 

Chosing to play dumb and not give you defenitive answer, Scott asks. “Is there anybody in particular you’re looking forward to seeing?”

“More like who I’m not looking forward to seeing…” you mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” You said for a quick cover, Scott giving you a knowing look. “You know I’m looking forward to seeing your ‘Ma’; I love that y’all call her that. It’s so New England!”

Scott chuckles, “She’s looking forward to seeing you too. She calls you her ‘lovely lunch buddy’.” Being close with Scott on set meant that you’d gotten to meet his mom. She’d taken a liking to you after joining you and Scott for lunch one day, and started joining you as often as she could.  

“Awwww, she’s too sweet! I’m gonna let you go now; I gotta finish getting cute for her.”

“Only her?” Scott said with a smirk. Please… Chris could kiss my a—

“Only her. I’ll see you later Scott, and happy birthday for the gazillionth time!”

“Thanks love, see you later!”

With one last fluff of your fro, pop of your lipstick, and once over in the mirror, and you felt ready. Collecting your phone and bag, you headed out for the night.

——————————————————————————

“Sooo....” Lynn turned the down the music as she drove. “How do you feel about possibly seeing you-know-who tonight?” The eyeroll and groan that escaped you were almost involuntary. “What?! It wouldn’t be far fetched; it IS his brother’s birthday.”

“I know, but… do we have to talk about him? I just wanna have a good time tonight,” you whined, throwing your head back on your seat.

“You already know the answer to that.” You let out a long sigh. You hadn’t seen Chris since your game night tell-off a few weeks back, and as much as you tried to forget about him and how you lost your cool, not talking about it was starting to gnaw at you, especially knowing it was only a matter of time before you saw him again. “So, how are we feeling?”

“I…” you took a breath, “I can’t help but feel annoyed! Like, sure I ignored his apology attempts, but he’s the one that passed unfounded judgments on ME. How the hell does that make me a diva? God I hate that word! You know how that word just triggers me,” Lynn nods in response, letting you continue. “And you know what's the most annoying part of it all?”

‘What?”

“Mackie and Scott talk about him incessantly. How smart he is, how caring he is, how fun he is. I mean, I saw it, when we met in New York. But I haven't seen it since. We’re their friends, so I get what they're trying to do, but at some point, like, give it up. It’s obviously not working, nor will it ever.” You let out a sound of frustration, “I don’t know what to do. Do I keep it to myself for the sake of our mutual friendships, or—”

“Be the diva he thinks you are?” You know Lynn is joking, but that’s not a bad idea… I mean, he already thinks it of me, might as well have some fun with it…  Lynn looks over to see you mischievously smiling into the Boston night and she begins to fear for the idea she’s just given you. “Oh God,” she mutters.

You look at her with a goofy grin and shrug. “What?” you try to say innocently.

“C’mon! Don’t actually consider that! Look, you weren’t expecting to see him last time, and that’s probably why it didn’t go so well. But now that you are, you can show up as the composed, level-headed woman I know is somewhere in that thick, thick skull of yours.” You give her no indication that you’ll heed her advice and she can tell. “Fine, just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she half laughs out.

The car comes to a stop in front of the venue and you check the time. 30 minutes after the invitation time, not TOO bad. You arrived at Majesty’s, a unique, swanky lounge in a trendy area of Boston you’ve never been before. I’ll have to come back and explore sometime. You lean over to give your sister a quick hug, thanking her for dropping you off, then briskly make for the curbside entrance, needing to escape the nippy Boston air. 

Once inside, you’re warmed by neon lights that illuminate the otherwise dim room. To your right is a full-service bar with a plethora of drink options on the wall behind it. Tables staggered up the middle of the room lead to a medium sized dancefloor just before a stage. Velvet curtains hang at the back wall behind a neon sign of the venue's logo. The place is packed. It is Saturday night after all. Music and conversation buzz around you as you scan the room looking for your friends.

“Hi there!” a cheery hostess approaches, her face beat to the gods, making you wish you’d opted for more makeup yourself. “Here with Scott Evans’ party?”

“Yeah! How’d you know?” She gives you a weird look, as if to say, ‘you're joking, right?’. It dawns on you that she knows who you are, hence why she knows who you’re here to see.

“Right…” It’ll be awhile before I get used to people recognizing me.

“HeeeEEeey!! There she is!” You hear Mackie’s voice but aren’t sure where it’s coming from. The hostess points up to a balcony where Mackie is hanging over the railing, flailing his arms to get your attention. 

The hostess escorts you to your party, leading you through the tables on the main floor. The walk there is spent with her talking about how “tonight is like the Oscars” because she’s “never seen so many big stars in one place” but she assures you she “isn’t a creepy fan” and that there’s a no recording policy for guests’ privacy. You smile and nod politely, but you’re not fully listening to her. You’re too in your head wondering if one of those “big stars” is Chris. You’re led up a staircase near the dancefloor that takes you to a roped off VIP balcony area where you can overlook the entire venue.

You give hello’s to the people in the section; some you know from set, but most are Scott’s longtime friends you’ve never met. Feeling a bit shy, you look for a familiar face when Mackie pulls you into a bear hug. “How ya doing, Kid? I’m glad you came out tonight!” You could be reading too far into it, but it feels like he means ‘glad you came despite the possibility Chris will be here.’ You suppress your urge to give a look of disdain and just smile and avert your gaze around the section. You notice that Chris isn’t there, or at least not yet, and you’re not sure if that makes you uneasy or not. Relax girl.

You still haven’t decided on what your disposition towards Chris will be tonight, but needed to choose quickly to get in the right headspace. Before you could process what was happening, you were whisked up into a hug by Lisa. Shit. I can’t be salty to him with his mother here. She’s so sweet. Ugh, guess it’s decided.

“How’s my lovely lunch buddy doing?” she asks with a genuine smile and kind eyes. 

You chuckle at the title she’s given you. “I’m doing great! How are you?”

“Better now that you’re here! Now we can get this party started!” She does a “raise the roof” motion with her hands as she bobs her head causing you to raise your brows. It would be a sure way to embarrass her children, but just makes you laugh. “I should stop before the birthday boy kicks me out,” she laughs out.

“Where is Scott by the way?”

“Oh, he should be around here somewhere...” she scans the section, squinting her eyes with her index finger tapping her upper lip. “There he is!” she points to a corner on the other side. You follow her finger to see a glittery Scott, adorned in a birthday hat and sash. He’s in conversation with a brown-haired woman, the pair laughing and slapping their knees.

As you approach, you notice someone else on the velvet cushion with them, but not at all in the conversation. Sat next to them is Chris, eyes fixed on you, expression blank. It was a matter of time. You tense up, clenching your jaw and holding his gaze.

When you reach them, you embrace Scott. “You look great!” he compliments your outfit and you give a couple poses to show it off.

“Thanks, it’s just a lil somethin’, somethin’ I threw together! Remember this jacket?”

“Yeah! You blew, what? Like, eight hun—”

“Shhh…” you stop him before he could blow up your spot, “Let’s not talk about it. Not the best show of my judgement.” Everyone laughs, except Chris who just scoffs and shakes his head unamused, making your laughter dissipate. 

“We all have those moments of weakness. Hi, I’m Shanna,” she greets with a handshake.

“Yes, she is my youngest, and this is my other son Chris. Chris honey, this is—“

“We’ve met, Ma,” he offers a fake but polite smile, one you just know he wouldn’t have if his mother wasn’t right there.

“Oh, really? When?” There’s a beat of silence that’s only uncomfortable for you and Chris as you both go through your brief, sordid history silently.

“At an industry thing not too long ago,” you offer, not meeting Chris’ eyes.

“Of course, I often forget that that world is even smaller than the real world,” Lisa chuckles. “I hope he was on his best behavior!” Chris looks up at you in panic, a look that says you wouldn’t rat me out to my mom, would you? You know she’s only joking, but the opportunity is too good to pass up on.

“Well, actually,’ you turn to Lisa as she looks at you quizzically, “He’s quite the rascal on the dancefloor; get a couple of Stella’s in him, could out dance the Rockettes!” the group laughs heartily, clearly knowing the truth of your words. Chris laughs nervously but is slightly relieved you didn’t reveal the truth of his behavior towards you since you two met. “But he’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman,” you say, looking at Chris with a facetious smile. He’s clenching his teeth into a pained smile himself.

“Really?” Scott says, ready to call you on your BS, “‘cos game night was kinda… intense. Or am I remembering it wrong?”

“Well, a little trash talk never hurt anybody,” Chris states while sipping his drink. And just like that, a silent pact was made between the two of you; to be cordial for the sake of all involved. Maybe there’s no need for the diva disposition after all…

“Right…” Scott is unconvinced, but is too in party mode to press on. Turning to you now, Scott asks, “How’s the soundtrack stuff coming along?”

“So great! I actually just got the final mix for the song I did with Miguel in New York, and I gotta say, it smells like a hit!”

“Oooo! And I bet it is! You’re literally a hit machine, am I right?” Shanna hits Chris’ arm seeking endorsement from him. He just raises his brows and shrugs as if to say, ‘yeah, sure, whatever’.

Scott isn’t amused by his brother’s disinterest. “Oh, don’t act so unimpressed! She’s literally an award-winning artist! Just the other day, you were literally—”

“Ok, Scott, that’s.... sheesh,” Chris interrupts what sounds like would’ve been a great story. “It’s not that, just that I don’t believe in creating to get awards; I believe you should create for the love of it.”

“I agree,” you chime in. “Even though I put my art out into the world for consumption, it doesn’t make or break me if others applaud it or not. What’s most important is that I do.”

“But you gotta admit it feels good,” Shanna taunts with a grin.

“Sure... but, I don't know… I love what I do so much, I'd do it even  if no one gave a damn. Hell, I have for years! Only recently the recognition started rolling in. And, not to sound self-loathing or anything, but it’s been… a challenge dealing with it all. I kinda miss the days when nobody knew my name.”

Lisa nudges Chris with her elbow, “She sounds like you.” He was thinking the same thing. “How’s filming going? You guys are on Harvard campus, right?”

“Mostly, yeah. It’s kinda funny being back at a college. I kinda forgot what it was like, but memories of those years have just been flooding back.”

“All those fond memories of studying coming back to ya, huh?” Chris digs. Walked into that one. 

Before you could form a petty rebuttal, Mackie called Chris over. Soon after, Shanna and Lisa excuse themselves, leaving you and Scott in the corner. 

Scott checked his phone for the time, “Ooo it’s almost time for my performance!”

“Performance?”

“Yeah there’s lip syncing!”

“Lip syncing? Not karaoke?”

“I asked that too. Apparently the owner was tired of hearing drunk people screech and butcher songs.”

“Understandable. What are you gonna perform?”

“I’m thinking ‘Birthday’ by Selena Gomez, but then there’s also ‘Birthday’ by Katy Perry, so I’m torn.”

“Both great choices! And I’m fully prepared to join you for either, do a little back up, whatever you need.”

“Uh-uh, nope.”

“Whaa— why not?” you put your hands on your hips.

“Because you’re a professional performer. You will get up there and literally intimidate anyone else from giving it a try and having some fun.” A pout was all you could muster as a response. “Oh don’t look at me like that! You know it’s true. Take a backseat tonight, ok?”

“Fine, whatever.” It wasn’t fine, but you did want to keep a low profile tonight. Performing would be the exact opposite of that.

“Thanks, love!” Scott gave you a hug, which you didn’t reciprocate out of feigned annoyance. “So, what the hell was that? With you and Chris?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, hoping he’d drop it.

“Well, I know that you two had some... words, and you’re not super fond of him even though you won’t say it out loud, and—” he paused to collect his confusion. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. Tonight isn’t about you two acting hella weird towards each other. Tonight is about my favorite people coming together and enjoying being around each other. Even if they’re faking it.”

“Yes, exactly!” relieved you don’t have to talk about it any further.

“Wanna know something?” You slightly raise your brows. “The other day, I caught Chris not just listening, but dancing to your music. I mean full on rocking out to it!” Scott laughs.

Your face heats up at the thought, but you play it off like you don’t care. “So?”

“So, you’ve obviously been on his mind. And if I know my brother, I think he wants to make things right but doesn’t know how. He may just be nervous.” You just sigh and look over to Chris and Mackie across the way, roughhousing one another and laughing. If he was nervous, it’s not like you made it any easier with your actions toward him. “He’s a good man. Silly, and sometimes stupid, but good nonetheless.” Maybe we did just get off on the wrong foot…

Some of Scott’s other friends pull him into conversation, and you make your way to the bar to get some libations to sort out your thoughts.

——————————————————————————

“And that’s when I said ‘Sis, what are you doing?’” The group crowded around drinks laughed at Jaden’s story from set, something about how you got stuck under some bleachers or something. Chris wasn’t listening. He’d long tuned out the cringey storyteller. Instead, his attention was with where you were with his mother across the way, deep in conversation. 

You sat with your legs crossed, hands moving around animatedly. Chris looks you up from the heels of your knee highs, to your shiny leather clad thighs, your lacy corset that leaves just enough to the imagination and shows off your collar bone, any man’s subconscious weakness. Goddamn.

“Careful of those wandering eyes,” Chris turned to see Mackie handing him one of the two beers in his hands.

“I don’t remember asking for this.”

“It’s to quench your obvious thirst.” Mackie motions his head in the direction Chris had been staring for the past 15 minutes; in your direction.

Chris rolls his eyes. “I’m not ‘thirsting’ over her,” he takes a sip of the drink, “and I think you’ve been hanging out with those kids on set a little too much.”

“Maybe,” Mackie chuckles, taking a sip himself, “but you know I’m not wrong.”

“She’s not even my type.”

“‘Your type?’ Since when do you have a type?”

“I have a type,” Chris tries to defend himself. “Kind, humorous, humble…”

“She’s literally all of those things!” Chris just offers him a side-eye in response. “Look, I don’t know what happened between New York and now—”

“Cos nothing really happened! So what, we had a good time when we hung out once. Means nothing. Not to me, and obviously not to her.”

“You couldn’t be further from the truth my man.” Chris looks from Mackie to you. “She’ll surprise you if you let her.” I hoped she would.

——————————————————————————

“Ladies and gentleman!” A loud voice, booms from the PA system, commanding everyone’s attention. You, Lisa, and everyone in your section approach the railing to look down to the stage where a spotlight had been cast on the speaker. “Here at Majesty’s, we don’t karaoke. We don’t want to hear you drunk motherfuckers screech!” The crowd erupts in laughter, but you look over to Lisa to see if the language offended her. She doesn’t seem to mind as she’s laughing along with ever else.

“At Majesty’s,” the speaker walks around dramatically motioning their hands like a magician's assistant, “We perform, we put on a show, we lip sync like you’ve never seen before!” There’s a chorus of claps, cheers, and ‘yass queen’s. 

“We have a special birthday performance by the birthday boy himself! Everybody give it up for Scott Evans!!!” Your section filled with Scott’s friends and family go crazy cheering him on. I wonder what song he decided on. 

Come and put cha name on it, put cha name on it

Come and put cha name on it, ya name

Don't chu wanna put ya name on it, put cha name on it

Come and put cha name on it, bay-bay-bay-bay-uh

“Oh my goodness! He would!” Scott surprised everyone with ‘Birthday Cake’ by Rihanna, and you have to say, he did it justice. Ansel and Jaden are his back up, twerking and being silly hype men. You look around to see everyone in hysterics and cheering, enjoying the clownery and having a good time. 

In your scan of the section, you notice Chris standing beside you. You admire his profile; the way his eyes scrunch up when he smiles genuinely, the lucious length of his lashes, the sharp angle of his nose, the slack of his jaw when he brings his beer to his plump lips. Before he poured the liquid in his mouth, he looked at you from the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth quirking up around the neck of the bottle. You whip your head back to the stage below, kicking yourself for getting caught. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, but his cheeks take on a slight rosy hue.

When Scott’s performance is over, everyone cheers and claps for the guest of honor, who takes his center stage bow and makes his way back to the section.

You and Chris look at one another, both of you mid smile, gazing at each other. Your smiles fade and you clear your throat, readying yourself to speak, although unsure of what to say.

“That was...”

“Yeah, it was…”

“Cool…”

“Entertaining even…”

“Uh huh.”

“Yep.”

You both stand there awkwardly. You’re looking everywhere but at Chris, while Chris is rocking back and forth on his heels, swinging his hands in front then behind himself.

“What a riveting conversation we’re having,” you joke, hoping to loosen up the tension.

It seems to work because Chris breathes out a light laugh before testing some humor himself. “Going better than our last conversation, that’s for sure.” He peeks at your expression tentatively to see if the joke landed, and it seems so by the small smile you offer him.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right,” is all you could think to say. A lull enters your exchange again, but this time it feels a little less rigid, but still not comfortable or cozy. You both have the same idea to interrupt the quiet with a start of a sentence, then share a laugh for simultaneously speaking.

“Ladies first,” he says.

“No, you can. I don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“Well, if we were thinking the same thing, you were probably gonna start with ‘I’m sorry…’,” he punctuated with a smile. 

You, however, are not smiling. Your face is contorted in complete confusion. “What exactly should I be apologizing for?”

Now Chris is confused. Your face and your tone say that you are serious. He’s searching your face for any sign of humor, and when he doesn’t find any, says, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe for acting all high and mighty like you’re too good for a peace offering?”

“There wouldn’t need to be a peace offering if you weren’t judgemental in the first place!”

“Maybe, but my judgments weren’t wrong. You parade around like you’re queen of everything!” You glare at him as he continues his tangent.  “‘OOooooOoO look at me, I’ve won a bunch of statues for my poppy-pop songs and spend my money on fufu jackets, but also don’t look at me cos I’m kinda awkward and might turn to putty at any given second.’” He mocks you in a high pitched, “woman” voice. 

You scoff at his foolery and to feel enraged by his stupidly silly drunken display. “First of all, I do not talk like that!”

“Yeah, ok.”

“And secondly, I’m not about to apologize for being proud of my accomplishments that I worked really fucking hard to achieve. I’m not afraid to clap for my damn self. We can’t all be overly-humble and self deprecating and blessed with the ability to be great with everybody. I refuse to shrink myself for anyone any longer!”

‘Any longer’? What’s she mean by that? Chris’ expression softens, as does yours. You’ve realized that you've once again been brought out your box, by a practical stranger no less. The two of you share similar expressions; anger tinged with a bit of hurt. Before either of you could say anything else, not that either of you wanted to, a commotion coming toward the two of you takes your attention away from the heated moment.

Scott is making his rounds through the section, receiving celebratory high fives, kisses, and smacks on the ass. “That was incredible dear!” Lisa punctuated with kisses all over her his face, causing you to laugh at the affection she showed her grown son.

“Ok, ok, thanks Ma!” Scott said, removing his mother’s hands from either side of her face. As he proceeded to wipe off the lipstick from his face, he turned to Chris. “Bro, are you gonna go up there?”

“Nah, just gonna hang back tonight,” Chris says, sounding defeated.

“What? Why? You love karaoke!”

“This isn’t karaoke. Besides, I’m not really feeling it tonight.” That sounds a lot like what you told him as an excuse to leave the game night. You felt like he was baiting you. To bite or not to bite? That is the question. After some intense and uncomfortable pouting from Scott, Chris caved. “Maybe, and that’s a hard maybe!” Chris slurred and gesticulated as he said so.

Satisfied and then distracted, Scott wandered off to his other party guests, his mother following closely behind him. You, however, feeling particularly petty, were not satisfied with his answer. “Too cool for this, are you?” You instigate.

Chris scoffs and swigs his beer, eyes fixed ahead. “Why don’t you go up there? You’re supposedly a big shot rockstar,” you roll your eyes at the title, “and I’ve yet to see what you can do.” A lie, but only he knows that.

You narrow your eyes at him. “I would, but I’ve been told I can’t because I’m a ‘professional’ and will ‘intimidate’ others from having fun, so, whatever…” you say, mocking Scott’s request.

“Yep… sounds about right.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” The liquor made you bold, but Chris barely bats an eye at your brutish behavior. He only winks and walks away. You find yourself trying to manage the butterflies that arise at his slight act, the fluttering cutting through your irritation. What the hell body! We’re not supposed to feel this way towards him!

As you watch Chris disappear down the stairs, there’s a hand on your shoulder that you harshly shrug out of. You turn around to face the offender, but soften at the confused face you meet. “Oh, Lisa. I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. Not unless you’ve got eyes in the back of your head,” she chuckles. “Are you ok, darling? You look… pissed.”

You lightly laugh, “Yeah… no… I mean yes, I’m fine.”

Lisa looks at you with an eyebrow raised, unconvinced. “Uh huh… I won’t push only because it’s a party, but I want you to know you can tell me anything that troubles you.” Even if it’s your son? You nod, knowing she’s sincere. “So, Scott said that you all are free on Monday.”

“Yep, first full free day in a while!”

“Great! Well, I wanted to invite you to the art museum with me on Monday. There’s a new exhibit opening up and seniors and friends get a special viewing. What do ya say?”

“Aw, I’d love to, Lisa! What’s the—“

“Guys, gals, and non-binary pals! May I have your attention again!” Everyone returns to the railing to look at the host on the stage downstairs. “Our next performer is somewhat unsuspecting, however, a Boston boy through and through. Says he’s a huge fan of the Patriots,” there’s some “woops” for the home team, “and a big fan of singing some Billy Joel…”

“No, he’s not!” you look at Lisa confusedly, as she covers her mouth.

“Who’s not?”

“…and goes by the name of ‘Sassy Cevans’…” the host continues.

“Oh yes he is!” Scott says from your left, inexplicably giddy.

“WHO IS?!” Your question has yet to be answered as the song's guitar riff ripples through the venue. The performer explodes onto the stage, back to the crowd, air strumming along. They turn around as the first lyrics come in and your question is answered, but now you have so, so many more. What in the hell??

Part 5 cont.

[leotssukinaga]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Kozume Kenma x Reader

Summary: Based on It’s Nice to Have a Friend by Taylor Swift. You and Kenma are childhood friends, but something else has been blooming for a long time. Word Count: 2113 A/N: I was gonna put this song on the songfic list, but I already knew I wanted to write it for Kenma so I didn’t. Finally got round to that. Also can y’all tell he’s my favourite character to write dksdg Warnings: Alcohol and drinking.

It's been like this for as long as you can remember, even after he started playing volleyball Kenma always walks you home. In middle school you'd sit in on practice, walking home with him afterwards, and he'd often stay for dinner at your parents behest. Now you're in high school there's no need since you only live 5 minutes from Nekoma's campus. He walks you home anyway. There are many things Kenma will never admit to you, the first being that he doesn't actually have an extra ten minutes before practice, he just doesn't mind rushing if it means he knows you're safe. You'd spent the first year of high school insisting that you'd get home fine on your own, or that you didn't mind waiting, but he never listened to you. He had time, he said, and nothing about his tone suggested that it was a lie. It was, but Kuroo never teased him too much for his sacrifice (or at least if he did, Kenma just tuned him out.) Tonight though, there's no practice, and the setter waits at his desk for you to pack up once class ends. He knows you always take a moment, the array of coloured pens you use (because notes should be colour coded to make studying easier, you’d insisted in your second year of middle school) take time to put away. You tuck the note he'd passed you earlier into your pocket. You always keep them. He doesn't know that. The smile he gives you as he holds a hand out to carry your bag is barely visible, but it's certainly there, and warmth spreads through your chest at the sight. 

Snow swirls around you, settling in your hair and on your lashes as your rummage through your bag for your hat and gloves. Kenma can't stop himself from staring at you, the light reflecting off the half melted flakes giving you an ethereal glow. If you weren't half freezing to death, he'd want to stay like this forever. Your cheeks are rosy from the cold as you triumphantly wave your hat around, but your grin soon fades as you realise your gloves are nowhere to be found. Kenma doesn't say a word as he removes one of his, placing it in your hand. He's refusing to make eye contact, and given the weather it's hard to tell whether the red on his cheeks is a blush or not. You know better than to argue, slipping the glove onto your right hand and thanking him quietly. 

As the two of you reach your street, you notice a pair of colourful cat ears on a patch of ground untouched by snow. Your neighbours 6 year old had been drawing on the sidewalk this morning when you left for school, the weather having changed unexpectedly, and you pouted a little knowing her lovely drawing would be ruined. Kenma's features turned puzzled as you ran to the spot, kicking the snow away and grinning when you realised the drawing hadn't been too affected by the snow. He watched in confused amusement as you snapped a few pictures of it and emailed them to your printer. "Why?" "I thought it would be a nice thing to give to her. She's only little, she must've been devastated when she realised it would be washed away." There are many things Kenma will never admit to you, and the second is that moments like this- where you do things just for the sake of being kind, where you smile at him and explain your kindness like it's the most obvious thing in the world- are the moments he lives for. He'd give up video games to see you like this one more time. The snow is coming down heavier as you reach your front door, and you pull him under the portico to protect him. "Wanna hang out?" "Yeah, sounds like fun." Your smile is as radiant as ever as you insert the key into the lock, calling out for your parents once the door is shut behind the two of you. One day he hopes he'll walk through the front door of your own shared house, or that it will be your kids calling for you as you prepare dinner together, but at the moment it seems like nothing more than a pipe dream. For now, he's content with what you have, building things in Minecraft, kicking his ass at Mariokart, logging into Elder Scrolls Online together after practice. In the summer you could occasionally coax him outdoors, although the closest you'd gotten him to indulging in your love of camping was a tent in your back garden. (He hadn't liked it, but you were so happy he couldn't complain, and waking up in that close proximity to you had made his heart swell.) He stays the night, the snow far too heavy for him to make it home, and around 3am you roll over to face him. "Hey Kenma?" "Yeah?" "Its nice to have a friend." "Yeah, it is." The glow of your alarm clock illuminates your faces enough to make the smile you share visible. It’s the last thing you see before you fall asleep. 

When college rolls around, it surprises nobody that you'd picked the same one. Even if you hadn't made a conscious decision to go together, you've always been synchronised. Two sides of the same coin, your parents had commented more than once. Your smile had been contagious when you announced that you got in, and he'd seemed genuinely energetic for once as he announced that he had too. 

Neither of you are much for parties, too many people and definitely too much noise, but that doesn’t mean you can't have your own fun. He'd been confused and a little apprehensive when you'd pulled him up the stairs and onto the roof, but it soon became clear what you'd planned out. Several bottles of alcohol sit in the centre of the large picnic blanket that's stretched over the concrete surface of the rooftop, both of your Switches, a few board games and, of course, Uno neatly arranged next to them. A bluetooth speaker softly plays a mix of both your favourite songs, and a grin spreads across his oft emotionless face as he takes it all in. It's his idea of the ideal party- one with nobody but you- and the look on your face tells him you knew that. "What d'you want to drink?" "Whatever you're having..." You hand him a bottle of something blue, and he's surprised at the sweetness when he takes a sip. "So, 20 questions or Uno?" "Why not both?" "I knew you were secretly a genius." 

He admits, once the alcohol has made its way into his system a little more, that the stress has been piling up recently, that he really needed this to unwind, that you always seem to know exactly how to fix things even just for a moment. He attempts to retracts the statement once you kick his ass at Uno, but the way you giggle makes his heart beat and the way your lips glisten with the stray drop of vodka that lingers after you take a sip brings back the years of daydreams he's had about kissing you. The sky is turning pink, but the late hour doesn't matter anymore, not when you're in your twenties and you don't have class tomorrow. "Its pretty like this." "Yeah, you are." "Hm?" "Uh- nothing. The sky is nice." You decide to let it slide.  "Yeah, it's a really good colour. I think it might be one of my favourites..." There are many things Kenma will never admit- the third being what he’s thinking right now- that his favourite colour is the blush on your cheeks, the way your eyes shine in the light, the colour of your lips between your teeth when you're nervous. That if he had to pick a favourite colour it would simply be you. He doesn't know when he got the courage to put his hand on yours, but you haven't moved it away, and the smile on your face as you take in the sunset tells him you don't have an issue.  "Hey, Y/N?" "Yeah?" "Its nice to have a friend." He mirrors your words from a few years ago, the meaning behind it deeper than before. You grin, pink and purple illuminating your beauty, and after 15 years of knowing you he's found no evidence that you aren't an angel. He doubts there is any. "Yeah, it is."

It's always been like this, you smiling at Kenma and him smiling back- a smile that nobody else gets to see. Today, everyone sees it, though it's meant only for you. He leans in to whisper to you as you reach him, tears in both your eyes, and though the wedding is small the love and joy you feel from everyone in the room is overwhelming. When you were 10 and he invited you over for the first time to play Zelda on his gamecube, neither of you could imagine a future where you got married at all, let alone to each other. In high school, when you showed up to his games with a red number five on a sign and his spare jacket tied round your waist (when did you steal that?) he could only dream of a day like this. There are many things Kenma had thought he’d never admit, and now he wanted to tell you all of them. Starting with the fact that your first kiss, the first time he told you he loved you, the night you fell asleep with your head in his lap- none of them could compare to how he felt right now, looking at you on your wedding day.

Bells ring behind you as white confetti gathers on the ground, and from a distance it would almost look like it was snowing. You pose for photos for what feels like hours, every possible combination and location exhausted. The reception is as beautiful as the ceremony, though far less refined, and you've just sat down next to Kenma to take a break when Kuroo pulls you to your feet, insisting it's tradition to dance with the best man. You both know it's a lie, but you've been putting up with his antics for long enough to know that your better off just rolling with it. "I've never seen Kenma smile this much, you know." "Me neither, actually." "Its because of you." "I'm glad I make him happy." "Does he make you happy?" "D'you think I'd have married him if he didn't?" "Thats the right answer."

Kenma insists on carrying you into your apartment, despite the exhaustion visible on his face, and you kiss his cheek gently as he closes the door. You make your way to the kitchen to make tea, and you don't notice him behind you until he's tickling your sides, grinning at your giggles. "You're sleeping on the couch if you don't stop!" "You don't mean that." "I do!" "Prove it." He keeps going, and you eventually concede. You'd never kick him out of bed, even if he was being a little shit right now. This playful side of Kenma didn't come out too often- but you adored when it did. You reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. It's mostly black now, and tied back as usual. It suits him, you think, as you cup his cheek and kiss him with all the tenderness in the world. 

The next morning starts with light flooding through your curtains and your husbands arms around you. You can feel him gently kissing your shoulder as you reach down to take his hand in your own. "Morning babe..." "Morning love." You turn around to face him, eerily reminiscent of a night all those years ago. The smile on his face is the same as it had been then. Being this close to him feels like home. "Let's stay in bed today." "I like the sound of that." You know that when it comes down to it, you'll always have him. You wouldn't want it any other way. There are many things Kenma thought he would never admit, many secrets he now wants to spill to you and nobody else, but the one thing he wants to tell anybody who’ll listen- is just how much he loves you. "Hey Kenma?" "Yeah?" "Its nice to have a friend." "Yeah." He brings your hand up to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on each of your fingers, pausing with his lips on your wedding ring. "Yeah, it is." 

taglist: @tremendousglitterthing​ @svtbitch​ @the-fandom-ness​ @atsumumu​ (I ACTUALLY REMEMBERED THIS TIME)

[tarlosbuddie]

Summary: It's been years since Eddie, Buck, and Christopher moved to Austin. Leaving Los Angeles and the 118 was hard, but it was the right decision for their family. They are happy at the 126. Tonight, the Diaz are hosting the 126 monthly dinner. It's a family tradition now. It brings back some memories and flashbacks.

Or the one where Buddie and Tarlos are friends and have lots of kids.

This is also part of my collaboration with the amazing @harvestleaves​ 

Word Count: 3470

Chapter : 1/2

Tags: Established relationship, Kid fic, domestic fluff, crossover, future fic

Relationship: Buddie and Tarlos

Read it on AO3

The 126 fire station

The shift is coming to an end and no one is complaining about it. It’s been a long day. They haven’t lost anyone but they barely had any time to catch their breath in between calls and one look at his team is enough for Owen to know they are all taking a nap as soon as the truck parks at the station. He is right, as usual. His son is the only one who’s not heading to the bunk room. He had a big smile on his face all day long.

“What makes you so happy son?” Owen finally asks, wanting to know the reason his exhausted son is looking at his phone, smiling, instead of catching up some well-deserved rest.

“Carlos keeps sending me those pictures” TK replies with a huge grin on his face. “It’s his day off, and his mom insisted on taking the kids shopping.” 

“Rookie mistake” Owen says. He tried once and his ‘quick shopping trip’ lasted for hours.

“They’ve been in the same store for three hours and Isabella has pretty much tried every piece of clothing she could find” the Strand boy adds while showing his dad all the photos Carlos had sent. The first three are very cute and show Bella wearing the beautiful clothes her grandmother picked out for her. Carlos’ mom is behind her with a bright and hopeful smile on her face. TK keeps scrolling to show his dad the rest of the outfits, dozens and dozens of pictures. From the reflection in the mirror, both men can see Mrs. Reyes’ hopes to leave the store slowly disappearing from her face. The last one is the one that melts TK’s heart the most. It’s a picture of his favorite little monster wearing a yellow hoodie and Carlos added the caption ‘She said she wanted to look like her daddy’.

“If they keep going like that, they will still be at the store tonight.”

“Not a chance” TK assures. “Her big brother won’t miss a dinner at the Diaz's for anything in the world.” 

“My little man is not the only one excited about tonight. I can’t wait to see the Buckaroos” says Owen, he looks around them, the firehouse is quiet. His team is sleeping, Michelle is on a call. Something is obviously missing. 

“Yeah, it’s weird here without big Buck” TK admits. Buck and him quickly became friends and not seeing him at work every day is weird, but he knows the blonde will be back at work in no time. He knows the whole team looks forward to seeing the youngest Diaz at the station again. Eddie of all people wants him by side, but he will not admit it in front of the others. His husband has a good reason to stay away from his job a little longer.

“We still have one hour left before the end of shift” the captain says. “You should try to rest a bit. I’m sure Buttercup is already warming up your bed.”

One hour of sleep won’t be enough to get properly rested from the long day they had, so TK decides to help his father filling the reports from all the calls they had. He sits on the couch on the corner of the captain’s office and Buttercup comes to sit next to him. They are halfway done with the paperwork when the shift is officially over. The members of the crew come quickly to let their captain know they are heading home. 

“Go, son, I’ll finish this alone,” Owen says. “I’ll see y’all tonight, guys”.

“See you” Eddie replies as he’s practically running, eager to come home to his family.

“Are you sure dad?” TK never liked paperwork, but he knows they can get it done faster together.

“Sure. I’m sure Bella is going to want to wear one of her new outfits tonight and she might need some help choosing from everything her grandmother bought her”, the kid’s grandfather says. He knows it’s probably true because no one ever spends more money than him spoiling his three grandkids.

“Okay then, see you soon.”

The Strand-Reyes’ house

TK drives back to his place. He doesn’t have a lot of time before they have to leave for the Diaz’s but he will make the most of the time he has with his family. He walks into the living room and kisses his husband before telling him and Matias about his day. The oldest is still too young to understand everything about his dads jobs but he knows they are both heroes who save people. Owen would love to see him being a third-generation firefighter but he will never influence his grandkids. Luis is playing on Carlos’ lap, stretching his arms towards TK for him to hug him. Owen was wrong about something, Isabella only got two new pieces of clothes. A dress, bought by Carlos’ mother, and the hoodie Carlos bought her. TK knows that she decided to wear this one because she’s holding his in her tiny hands.

“Oh, you want me to wear mine too, huh?” he asks his 3-year-old daughter. TK grabs his hoodie and carefully puts Luis on the couch next to his dad. “I’m gonna take a quick shower and we’ll be ready to go.” 

Carlos does not reply. He watched over his baby boy while helping Matias finish the drawing he made as a gift for tonight’s hosts. Owen once told his grandkids to never show to someone’s house empty-handed, and even though the Captain was thinking about the nice bottle of wine he always brings when he’s invited somewhere, he’s glad to see that the boy learned that gesture from him. Matias makes sure to draw something lovely every time, and now the whole team has an original Matias Strand-Reyes drawing on their fridge.

The Diaz’s house

Buck just hang up the phone with Carla. They still facetime from time to time. It’s not the same as having her around, but the Diaz family will always have a soft spot for her. She helped them in so many ways, they won’t ever know how to repay her for everything.

Eddie and the rest of the 126 will be here soon. So Buck sets his phone on the kitchen counter, enjoying the view of his entire family on the screen before opening the recipe he was given last week. He still thinks about Carla and a conversation they had a few years ago.

Buck had come home after a quiet shift. His apartment barely felt like home. He used to love it so much but ended up finding it empty and cold. He was so happy during his shift, smiling while working under the burning LA sun. Somehow, his joy disappeared when he crossed the threshold. He was missing something. He didn’t want to stay at his place, so he texted Maddie but she had plans with Chimney. He texted Carla and she just replied with ‘just get your ass here Buckaroo’. Her husband was working late and she cooked extra food so she didn’t mind having Buck for dinner at her place.

As soon as he arrived, she asked him why he wasn’t with Eddie. The second Eddie’s name left her mouth, she couldn’t place another word. Buck started by explaining the firefighter was having a family dinner with his parents and his Abuela. It was one of those rare times his parents were in town and Buck didn’t want to bother them by coming along, even though Eddie invited him. After explaining that, he never stopped talking. He told Carla about the amazing idea Eddie had at work to save a girl, and then he kept on talking about his best friend. Carla could barely speak. She didn’t mind, she loved that boy. He had a kind heart and she knew it the second he knocked on Abby’s door to help her find her mom. It was getting late and they both knew it because Buck commented on the fact that Eddie and Chris’ dinner was probably done since Eddie had sent him a picture of Chris falling asleep in front of the movie. Helena and Ramon didn’t seem to be there and Buck assumed they went back to sleep at their hotel. Carla looked at him with a huge smile.

 “What?” Buck genuinely asked her, not realizing what she was smiling about.

 “You’ve been talking about Eddie for two hours Buckaroo.”

 “No. I’m-I’m not” he babbled. “I’m just making conversation.”

 “It’s okay. I know you love him.”

 “Of course I love him. I love all my team” he said, trying to control his voice that started to crack.

“That’s not what I mean. You are in love with him, Buck.”

 “I-I’m not. We are best friends. He’s my best friend.” he repeated, more to convince himself to convince her. 

He hugged her goodbye, and spent the next hours in his empty apartment, looking around. He saw Eddie’s key on his key ring, the dishes from the dinner they had together the night before were still in the sink, and the shopping list on his fridge had Eddie’s handwriting on it because he knew Buck always forgot important stuff while shopping, so his best friend adds them on the list to be sure he gets everything he needs. Eddie and his son’s presence is everywhere, from Chris’ drawing next to the shopping list on the fridge, to his bedside table where the framed pictures from the first time they went to see Santa together next to the one of him and Maddie. But none of them were in the room, and that was the reason why his place felt the cold. For the first time in a while, he did not spend his free time with the Diaz boys. 

Carla was right. He needed Eddie like he needed air. He loved Eddie. This realization scared him. He could not love him. His friend would freak out and leave him if he knew Buck loved him. But Buck was the one freaking out and he couldn’t stop himself from picturing every possible scenario in his head. He was about to grab his jacket to go out when he realized he didn’t even take it off after coming back from Carla’s. He took his key and jumped in his jeep.

Buck can barely hear Eddie coming behind him. The blonde is slightly bending on the kitchen counter, cutting vegetables. It’s one of the rare moments where he looks smaller than Eddie. Taking advantage of Buck’s position, the older man rests his head in between Buck’s neck and his shoulder, lacing both his hands around his husband’s waist and watches him preparing their dinner. Eddie’s muscles are tense from work, and the nap in the bunk room didn’t do any good to his body, but feeling the man he loves in his arms is exactly what he needs to feel better. Buck smells like home; the scent of the dinner he’s cooking, the perfume of the kids shampoo from when he gave a bath to Andrea before and the gentle musk of the aftershave they both use. 

It’s their time to host the 126 monthly dinner and Buck wants it to be perfect because he knows these nights are as important for their kids as it is for them. Andrea is always enjoying being around the rest of the kids, and she loves when they are hosting it because she gets to play house and entertain her crowd. Both men know she will be in the kitchen with them in no time, she always is. Eddie notices his husband looks distracted.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he said, while both his hands are still around him. His fingers are slowly touching Buck to bring him back from the thoughts he seems to be lost in.

His head is still playing back the memories of the day that changed his life forever. 

In front of the Diaz’s door, Buck froze. He turned his back to the door and started walking back to his car. It was late, it was stupid. He should go home. But he moved towards the door again. It was dark and cold outside, and Buck was pacing, not knowing what to do. His heart wanted to go towards Eddie while his head told him to go back home and forget everything Carla told him. But his feet didn’t know who to listen to. He knocked gently on the door before he had time to think about what his mouth was supposed to say.

Eddie looked at him, and smiled before letting him in. He was not really surprised to see Buck at his door. There was always beer in the fridge and his favorite snacks somewhere in case his friend showed up. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” Buck whispered. Eddie was close enough to hear it, but he didn’t understand it. Where was this coming from? None of them were injured during their shift, Eddie had no intention of moving out, things were fine and Buck was not making any sense.

“You won’t lose me Buck. I’m fine, and I’m not going anywhere”.

“But I might lose you,” Buck said, a little louder but he looked more scarred that Eddie had ever seen him. “You might never want to see me again.”

“That won’t happen. Not to us.” Eddie promised him, he meant it. He was never gonna let anything come in between them. “Talk to me, man.”

“I can’t. I can’t do this” Buck was turning his back on him, putting his hand on the door handle to run home and forget this. Eddie placed his hand on Buck’s to stop him from opening the door.

“I can’t risk losing what we have” the blonde said, his back still turned away from his friend.

“Okay, now you are scaring me” Eddie confessed, while he gently forced Buck to turn his face to him. He was not letting him go. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“It’s not my head that’s the problem.”

“What’s your problem?” as soon as the words left his mouth, they echoed with their argument during his first day, but his tone is gentle. Just like this day, Eddie’s eyes won’t leave Buck.

“You’re my problem” Buck replied, and Eddie’s mind is definitely went back to the gym where they had that heated talk. This time Buck’s voice is not angry. He’s almost whispering and his gaze left Eddie’s eyes to look at the hand, nicely rested on his shoulder, his thumb gently pressed on Buck’s neck, slowly coming up to be on his face, and that’s exactly the problem. His heart is racing against his chest and he feels like if the other man comes any closer his heart will beat so hard he will jump out of his chest and crumble on the floor.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“There is nothing wrong with you, Eddie. You’re perfect, you’re too perfect. I l-” he tried to stop himself but it was too late. The words were half unspoken and he had to finish what he started. Carla’s voice was playing on repeat in his head and Eddie was still looking at him. He didn’t know for how long he was silent. The sound of his heart sounded even louder suddenly as Eddie’s left hand mirrored his right one on the other side of Buck’s cheeks. Using his gentle hold on his face to force Buck to look at him, Eddie broke the unbearable silence.

“There’s nothing you can say that could make me love you less” Eddie said. Buck’s lips were finally moving to say something before he fully registered what the other just said.

“Wh-What?” Buck rambled.

“You heard me Buck” Eddie said softly. But if it meant the face in between his hands can finally stop shaking, he was willing to say it as many times as he needed to. “I’m in love with you, you fool. And I’m seriously hoping that that’s what you were trying to say or I will be the fool”.

Buck nodded, still shaking. He didn’t know what else to do, but Eddie was cupping his head his tender hands, and the shaking stopped when Eddie’s lips met his.

They definitely had to thank Carla for that and she was pretty proud to include this in her toast at their wedding reception years later. 

Smiling, Buck fully comes back to reality. Eddie’s body against his is anchoring him to the present. Sometimes it’s still feels like a dream, all of it seems too good to be true. But it is real, as real as Eddie’s breath against the back of his neck.

“I just- I just love you Eddie.” the man declares like it’s the first time. Eddie does not need to hear him say it to know how much his husband loves him. But he will never get tired of hearing those three words.

“And I love you too” he replies while placing a kiss down Buck’s neck. No matter how many times he says these words, he will always feel like the man in front of him is constantly surprised to hear that he is loved. He could repeat them for the rest of their lives if it means to be greeted by the most genuine smile in return. “But this house is soon going to be full of hungry kids” he reminded him before they both lost themselves in the moment “and we don’t want to hear TK bragging about Carlos’ cooking skills.”

 “You wanna turn this diner into a cooking competition, Diaz?” Buck teases.

 “You know you’ve been a Diaz too for the past five years, right?” Eddie asks and there’s suddenly a wide grin on Buck’s face.

“I know, I just love the sound of that.” Buck sighs when he feels Eddie’s hands leaving his body, but his pout turns into another big smile when he feels his fingers taking the knife out of his hand to help him with the cooking. 

Eddie cuts the vegetables left on the kitchen counter when Buck happily starts the rest of the recipe. Andrea appears in between them but has no interest in helping with the dinner. She’s only interested when her dad is making desserts, so she can give a hand and fill her stomach at the same time. By the time Eddie arrived, the cake is already on the oven, so Andrea just hangs with her dads while they do the rest of the boring work. She’s five but she’s already teasing her older dad on his lack of cooking skill.

“Dada” she said while clinging to Buck’s leg, “Don’t let daddy cook. I’m hungry.”

Buck can’t hold his laugh in, and Eddie would be lying if he said he didn’t find it cute. He took her by the hand and guided her towards the cupboard.

“What if you helped me set the table while Dada makes us something we can actually enjoy?” Eddie asked her with a big smile. 

Andrea is not complaining, setting the table is something she really enjoys, it’s something usually the grownups do in their house and she feels like a big girl when she is doing it. Eddie gives her the plastic plates for the kids’ table, and she happily walks towards the table where she’s about to have a great time with her friends. She puts the green plate next to hers because she knows it’s Matias’ favorite color. Bella is going to be in front of her, next to Tucker Ryder. And for the rest of the kids, the smaller ones, they will be on their parents’ lap, at the grownup table. Aside from Bella, the other kids never complained about sitting at another table, they all love to have their secret conversations without their parents being here. 

“Can I help?” Chris asks. His voice is joyful. He loves those dinners too. Especially since, unlike his sister, he gets to be at the adult table. The 14-years-old has known the 126 for a long time, they are his family.

Before Eddie can think of something he could ask his son to do, the door rang.

“Well, you can welcome our guests, buddy,” he says before jogging to the kitchen to see if the dinner is ready.

“Buck, don’t let dad near the food” Chris jokes before opening the door.

In a few minutes the first guests will arrive and the pressure from the day will vanish, and be replaced with love, laughter and happiness. No matter how tired everyone is after a shift like this one, knowing they are together in this will always make things better. 

[haledamage]

Home Sweet Home

After learning some dangerous information about her father and his connection to the Leaden Key, Kai Cirdani has no choice but to revisit her childhood home and face her parents for the first time since she ran away fifteen years ago. (Kai/Aloth/Edér) ~7600 words

I hope this is coherent and enjoyable for other people who have a bit less of an intimate understanding of the inner dynamics of the Cirdani family, but if I'm being honest I really just wrote this for me :P it wanted to be written and it also wants to be shared

(trigger warning for mentions of child abuse, specifically physical and verbal abuse, neglect, imprisonment. also a possible trigger for deadnaming)

“Akaia.”

Adelaide Cirdani looked like a ghost where she stood on the stairs, stark white skin and long, delicately-braided platinum hair, white lace dress and eyes black as midnight. She also looked like she'd seen a ghost, staring at her middle daughter like she was some shade of the past returned to haunt her.

“Hello, Mother.” Kai kept her chin up and her face blank, stern and imperious and exuding power and strength. She couldn’t have looked more different than her mother, with her free-flowing red curls and her practical armor and her brightly colored silks, solid and real where Adelaide was ethereal and cold.

She didn’t move from the doorway, didn’t say another word. Forcing her mother to extend the invitation or send her away. Aloth and Edér stayed at her sides, silent and supportive and she knew without looking that they were even less friendly than she was.

“Why are you here?” Mother demanded eventually.

Kai opened her mouth to answer, but before she could she heard the last voice she’d ever wanted to hear again.

“Well, well, well.” It drifted into the room like black smoke warning of approaching flame, and then Gaius appeared from the doorway to the left that she remembered leading to the parlor. Kai’s older brother leaned against the archway and crossed his arms over his chest, smug and just a bit threatening. Nothing had changed there, then. He looked exactly as she remembered him, tan skin unblemished by anything that could ever resemble honest work, white-gold hair falling in gentle waves around his shoulders, eyes as black as his shriveled heart, smile sharp and cold and vicious, like a crocodile without the charm. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you came crawling back.”

Kai looked at him for the space of two long heartbeats, fitting every ounce of hatred she had into that glare, and then she turned back to her mother, dismissing Gaius from the conversation. “I have business with Father. Believe me, I have as little desire to be here as you do to have me here.”

“Of-of course.” Kai took a quiet pleasure from seeing Mother so off-balance as she left the room without another word.

She stood in silence, still in the open doorway, refusing to step a foot into the house until she was explicitly invited. Refusing as well to so much as glance at her brother, ignoring his presence entirely.

“So this is where you grew up, huh?” asked Edér, and the warm amusement in his voice eased the tension in her shoulders a little. “It’s awful empty. Couldn’t your folks afford furniture?”

“Clutter is for poor people, my dear,” she said dryly. “You’ll find that the more one can afford, the less they own.”

“Sounds boring. Where do you sit?”

“On the backs of servants, no doubt,” Aloth sneered. He was peering around the limited area they could see as if searching the corners and curtains for assassins - though, Kai noticed, his eyes never fell anywhere near her brother, taking her silent cue to ignore him completely.

“Are these two the best your travels could offer you, Akaia?” Gaius taunted, his smile still cruel and sharp and never reaching his eyes. “I’m not impressed. Are you so destitute that you can’t afford decent bodyguards?”

She continued to ignore Gaius, addressing her companions instead. “Maybe I can show you my old room before we leave, if you’re looking for something a little more lived in. Assuming Mother ever remembers her manners and invites us in, or that they haven’t converted it to some sort of storage closet in the intervening years.”

“You should know better than to ignore your betters, girl.”

“You are not better than me, Gaius,” she snapped, finally looking his way again. “You are an insect buzzing in my ear, nothing more, and I am immune to your venom.”

A shadow passed over his face and his smile turned into a snarl. This was a more familiar version of her brother, the rabid beast barely concealed behind his crocodile smile. Kai swallowed down the automatic, long-ingrained fear that bubbled up at the sight of his rage, and kept her head high as he stormed toward her. “Why you worthless, insolent--”

“Kiki.” Garreth Cirdani rushed toward them with a surprised but warm smile. Gaius stopped in his tracks, though Father paid him no mind whatsoever, his eyes only for his wayward daughter. He was a tall man, especially for an elf, taller than anyone in the room except Edér, with tan skin, a shock of curly black hair, and green eyes almost as bright as his smile.

He scooped Kai into a hug with no hesitation, which she allowed but didn’t reciprocate. He didn’t seem to notice her reticence. “What are you doing standing on the step like beggars? Come in, my girl, come in! Who are your friends? What brings you home? Will you be staying long? You must at least stay for dinner, of course!”

“That will not be necessary,” Kai said, though not quite as coldly as she spoke to her mother and brother, and she finally stepped over the threshold and into the house, Aloth and Edér at her heels. “I have some matters to discuss with you, Father. Preferably somewhere…” she glanced pointedly at Mother, scowling behind her husband, and at Gaius, still seething with uncontained rage, “private.”

“Now wait just one minute,” Adelaide demanded sharply. “If you think you can just--”

“I’m sure whatever it is can wait until after dinner,” Garreth spoke over his wife. “You did come all this way, after all, from… wherever you’ve been.” He paused as if hoping she would tell them where she’d been, but she didn’t offer any such information. He shrugged it off and turned to Kai’s entourage. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Lord Garreth Cirdani. And you are?”

“Edér Teylecg, m’lord,” Edér said sunnily, Dyrwoodan accent much thicker than normal, and Kai had to bite the inside of her cheek to fight a smile. He took Garreth’s offered hand and shook it vigorously and for much longer than necessary. “Kiki’s told me all about y’all. I’m sure glad she let me tag along.”

“Indeed,” Father said, trying to pry his hand from Edér’s firm grip but trying to look like that wasn’t what he was doing. “Have you known my daughter a long time, then?”

“Yessir, comin’ up on ten years.”

“I see. And you are her…” Garreth couldn’t help the distasteful twist of his lips as he looked over Edér with his battered armor and simple but clearly well-used weaponry, “bodyguard?”

“I guess you could say that,” he glanced her way, and even though his witless smile was fake the fondness in his eyes was genuine, “though she’s certainly capable of defendin’ herself. It’s more like I’m here to keep her outta trouble. Make sure she don’t start fights with gods or start throwin’ fireballs at her childhood home and everyone in it. You understand, o’course.”

“Edér.” Kai put a hand on his arm and he stopped looming over her father.

“Too far?”

“Too far,” she said, but she smiled slightly at him.

“Of… course.” Father’s smile faltered in the face of Edér’s over-exaggerated joviality. Behind him, Adelaide and Gaius made no effort to hide their derisive sneers which had manifested as soon as they heard Edér’s accent. Garreth turned to Aloth, who met his eyes with cool indifference. “And you are?”

“Lord Aloth Corfiser of Caed Nua.” He didn’t take Garreth’s offered hand.

At the word ‘lord’ Adelaide perked up, a sudden smile appearing on her face. Kai clenched her teeth until her jaw ached to stop from commenting on her mother’s predictability. “You should have said something earlier. If I’d known we had nobility come to visit, I would have had some refreshments arranged.”

Aloth laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That won’t be necessary. In truth, it’s just a formality. The title belongs to my wife, I simply inherited it when we betrothed.”

“Your wife.” Mother’s eyes darted to Kai, who couldn’t help but smirk at the flash of discomfort in her mother’s black eyes. “Of course. I didn’t know you were married, Akaia.”

“Kai.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“My name. Is Kai.”

Adelaide scoffed. “I have it on fairly good authority that it isn’t, seeing as how I named you myself.”

“Yes, and I had it legally changed some years ago,” Kai said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at her mother’s apparent offense. “I left ‘Akaia’ behind when I left the rest of this accursed estate.”

“What did you say you were lord of?” Father said slowly, suspiciously, drawing her attention back to him.

“Caed Nua,” Aloth answered so Kai didn’t have to.

“I thought so.” All the humor drained from Garreth’s face like a switch had flipped. “I’ve heard many interesting things about the Lady of Caed Nua.”

“I’ll bet you have.” Kai met Father’s gaze fearlessly, his green eyes so very much like her own, and saw the exact moment he connected the dots and realized what ‘business’ she was here for.

“Caed Nua,” Gaius sneered, clearly tired of not being the center of attention. “I think I’ve heard of that. Rundown keep in the Dyrwood, run by a madman. Is that you, Akaia?” When Kai didn’t acknowledge him, still having a silent conversation with her father, he finally finished his enraged bull rush across the room. “Hey! Speak when you’re spoken to, witch!”

He reached to grab her, but Edér caught his wrist before he made contact. He squeezed it hard enough that Kai swore she could hear the bones creaking. In a very quiet, dangerous tone, he said, “Now, I know no one bothered to teach you how to behave like civilized kith, so I’m gonna give you a warning. You lay another hand on her and you ain’t gettin’ it back next time.”

“You dare!” Despite the order in his words, Kai had never in her life seen her brother so intimidated. It was almost enough to make this nightmare worth it.

“I’ve stared down the gods themselves for her, you think I’m gonna be scared of a bully like you?” He released Gaius, who staggered backward, clutching his arm to his chest. “Try it again and find out.”

Kai could have kissed him right then and there. Would have done so if it had only been them and Aloth in the room, or if not for the fact that Gaius would likely draw a sword on them if they gave him an opening like that. She resolved to show her gratitude later, somewhere safer.

“Well,” Adelaide clapped her hands together to break the tension in the room and Kai flinched at the sound, “I need to go speak with the chef, if we’re to have guests for dinner.” She said it like a question, like she was hoping their ‘guests’ would refuse again so she wouldn’t have to host them, but Garreth once again spoke over her.

“Of course they’re staying for dinner. I insist. Ak--Kai, I’m sure you wish to give your… gentlemen a tour. This is still your home, after all, no matter how long you’ve been away.” Kai scoffed and so did Mother, but Father didn’t notice. Instead, he turned a stern eye on Gaius. “Come with me.”

Her brother followed dutifully with one final, hateful glare, and then they were gone. Mother gave a half-hearted curtsey and left too, and then it was only Kai, Aloth, and Edér in the foyer of the estate.

Kai took a slow, deep breath, steeling herself for moving further into her childhood home. Aloth and Edér both put a supportive hand on her back, steadying her nerves and bolstering her courage, and after another deep breath she finally stepped forward. “Shall we? Father will be making himself scarce so we can’t have a chat with him early and skip out on dinner, so I may as well give you the tour.”

“You said you wanted to show us to your old room,” Aloth said softly. “It seems as good a place as any to start.”

“And maybe to take a sec to catch your breath,” Edér added. “Go on, darlin’. Lead the way.”

Before she could convince herself not to, she squared her shoulders and started toward the stairs. She kept her steps measured, refusing to get caught running away, though she did walk a bit faster than normal.

Up the stairs, first hallway on the left, second door on the right. Even fifteen years after leaving, she could have made the trip with her eyes closed. The door to the left of hers was Ariana’s, and Arabella’s room was right across the hall. She could almost imagine she could still hear music drifting from Bella’s room, a mournful cello or lively piano sometimes the only sound to be heard in this hall for weeks at a time.

The door opened at her urging, the hinges silent. Kai didn’t know what she’d expected to find on the other side; an empty room, maybe, or one filled with haphazard stacks of boxes that contained all of her childhood possessions. A guest room, plain and without personality. Maybe her own room, caked in a decade and a half worth of dust and neglect.

The room looked exactly as she remembered it and looked like it had been cleaned within the last week. The linens were fresh, the curtains drawn, and even the bookshelves were completely free of dust. It had never been this clean when it had been hers.

It was still horribly cluttered. It was a space belonging to a scholar and a hermit and an overly curious little girl, the walls lined with shelves upon shelves of books, groaning under the weight of them like she’d been trying to fit a whole world’s worth of adventure and life into her little cage. There was a desk in the corner filled with yellowing papers which were in turn filled with mindless, barely-legible scrawls of translations and spellwork. Her handwriting was hurried and sharp as if trying to escape from the page, as if she could never write fast enough to get all the thoughts out of her head. In the center of the desk, open to a page she only vaguely recognized, was Kai’s first grimoire, simple and singed on the corners.

The door slammed shut behind her and she jumped, but before she could react to it there were strong arms around her, pulling her into the comfort and familiar safety that was Edér. “You okay, Kiki?”

She melted against him. “No. I’m really not. But I appreciate your concern.”

“You know I’m here for you. So’s Aloth. Whether you need a shoulder to cry on or help hidin’ a body. And if you’re lookin’ for suggestions, I vote for the second one.” He pulled back enough that he could see her. He brushed her hair back from her face, studying her expression, looking for any sign of pain or panic, making sure she really was okay.

His sincerity was heartwarming. A reminder she desperately needed that ‘family’ had nothing to do with this little room and everything to do with the two men standing in it with her. She glanced over at Aloth whose eyes were full of the same affection and sincerity. They had a quick, wordless conversation spoken mostly in smirks and tilted eyebrows that ended with him squeezing her hand and smiling gently at her.

With her husband’s permission confirmed, Kai turned back to Edér. She grabbed his face in both hands, pulled him down to her level, and pressed her lips to his.

He kissed her back immediately, like he'd been expecting it, like he'd been waiting for it for years even if neither of them had realized it. She was dimly aware of Aloth's warm, quiet laughter next to them, and she could hear Iselmyr's smug 'I told you so' behind it.

When she pulled away, Edér gaped at her, dumbfounded. His hands fell onto her shoulders, and she could feel the tension in them where he was stopping himself from pulling her closer. "What was that for?"

"You know damn well what that was for." She couldn't keep the grin off her face. "That was one of the sexiest things I've ever seen, watching you put the fear of the gods in my brother like that."

He scratched the back of his neck nervously, but he still looked pleased at the praise. "It wasn't a big deal, Kiki. I couldn't just stand there and listen to him talk to ya like that anymore."

"I'm inclined to agree with Kai on this one."

Edér's hands dropped abruptly from her shoulders as soon as Aloth spoke. His expression was torn somewhere between guilty and coy. "Yeah? You gonna kiss me too?"

"Perhaps," Aloth deadpanned, though there was amusement in his eyes, "once she's done with you."

"I…" Edér was staring again, at a loss for words. "Really? I can’t tell if you’re jokin’ or not."

"I wasn’t." Aloth’s cheeks reddened as Edér went from confused to intrigued. He looked away, avoiding both Edér’s eyes and Kai’s. "I think that’s a conversation the three of us should have somewhere other than in the epicenter of Kai’s childhood trauma."

"That’s fair." He looked like he wanted to say more, but he let the subject drop. He stepped away from Kai and looked around the room for the first time since they arrived. "So this is it, huh?"

“I’m afraid so.” She walked over to her crowded little desk and picked up a random piece of paper. It contained notes about the translation of one of the books in the room, but the writing was so bad she couldn’t tell if she was translating from Vailian or Rauatian. She let the paper go and it fluttered back to the surface of the desk. “Not bad for a cage.”

"Maybe. I’ve seen worse." She could hear the lie in Edér's voice.

"A cage is still a cage," Aloth said, soft and far too understanding.

Kai sat down on the edge of her bed. Everything still looked the exact same way it had. The smell of it, the texture of the blanket under her hands, the patch of sun on the floor at her feet. As if they'd stepped outside of the normal flow of time. As if the last fifteen years had never happened. As if she had never left. Would she ever truly leave this little room, with its overflowing bookshelves and vase full of long-dead flowers and the rug with the ink stain in one corner? Or would a part of her always be trapped here, no matter how far she travelled?

"Whoa, hey." Edér sat down next to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders. A moment later, Aloth sat on her other side, taking her hands in his. "We’ve got you, Kiki."

She closed her eyes, blocking out the too-familiar room and everything except the two men sitting next to her. "I hate this place." Her voice shook, full of so many long suppressed emotions it was hard to tell what they all were. "I hate the hold it still has on me. I want to rip it apart with my bare hands. I want to set it alight and watch it burn to ashes."

"I’ve got some matches."

"I don’t think Kai needs any assistance with starting fires."

She couldn't see him, but she could tell Edér was smiling, could hear it in his voice. "Sure. I can get some kindling instead. Think I saw some downstairs. About yea tall, blond hair, punchable face."

Kai huffed, barely a laugh. "Don’t tempt me." She leaned back into Edér’s embrace and pulled Aloth along with her, and there in their arms, surrounded by the scent of pipe smoke and arcane magic, an old pain unwound itself from around her heart and it no longer hurt to breathe. "I’m so glad you’re here."

"Always," they said at the same time.

She shifted so she was still leaning against Edér but could drop her head down to Aloth’s shoulder. “Can we just… stay here like this?” she mumbled into his hair.

“As long as you need to.” Edér moved his arm so it was around both of them instead of just her, prepared to settle in and camp out here if that’s what she needed.

“Last time I attended dinner here, I cut off all my hair with a steak knife, climbed out my bedroom window, and left the country,” Kai admitted.

“Do you anticipate that same level of drama this evening?” Aloth sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

“Maybe. This place brings out the worst in me.”

“I know what you mean,” he said darkly. “Your brother had better hope dinner tonight doesn't require knives. Iselmyr is liable to stab him before we even get to the main course.”

“Hey, Miri?” Kai sat back so she could see Aloth's eyes, waiting for the miniscule shift that told her Iselmyr was actively listening. “I would not stop you.”

“Sweet talker.” The accent was still Aloth, but the words were clearly Iselmyr, the two of them sharing space for the moment. Kai took advantage of the opportunity that presented and kissed them. It was a unique aspect of their relationship, that even though the body never changed there was a marked difference between kissing them, depending on who was at the fore. And now it was different again, somewhere between deliberate, driven Aloth and aggressive, wild Iselmyr.

It should have been strange, too, considering the position they were in, her back still pressed to Edér’s chest, his hand still on Aloth’s back, but it felt like this was where she was always meant to be.

She leaned her head back on Edér’s shoulder as the kiss broke and Aloth carded his fingers through her hair before his hand settled on Edér’s shoulder. Silence fell over them, which was this room’s preferred and most natural state, but it didn’t feel oppressive like it sometimes had in the past.

“Is, uh,” Edér said slowly, like he didn’t want to break the quiet, “is anyone else havin’ a really weird day?”

Kai and Aloth exchanged a glance, and it was like something snapped, the last bit of tension giving away almost audibly. As if on cue all three of them collapsed into laughter. They laughed until tears sprung in their eyes, until their sides hurt and they fell back in the bed when they could no longer hold themselves upright. The bed was too small for three - it was barely large enough for Kai alone - but they made it work, curling up together as laughter faded to chuckles to helpless giggles.

“Thank you. I think I needed that.” Her head was pillowed on Aloth’s arm and Edér’s head was on her chest, their fingers laced together on her abdomen. She could have stayed forever just like this. She wished that was an option; then she wouldn’t have to face what she knew came next. She sighed and said reluctantly, “I guess we should get this over with.”

“It’s not too late, Kiki,” Edér said, making no move to get out of the bed. “Set the place on fire and run. We can be back in open water before anyone knows what happened. What’s that pirate idiom Engrim likes?”

“Dead men tell no tales,” Aloth answered dryly. “He's right, you know, though I suppose it holds less truth for a Watcher.”

Tempting, very tempting, but “I’ve got too many questions that need answering. The sooner we get back downstairs the sooner we can get back to our ship and figure out… this.” She put a hand over theirs where they still rested on her stomach and gave them a squeeze. Another sigh, and she added, “Let me up, darlings. We’re wasting daylight.”

They untangled themselves and climbed out of the bed. Kai glanced around the room again, but it no longer held any fear for her. It was just a room. It may as well have belonged to someone else, for all the attachment she felt for it. It reminded her of some of Iorena’s memories that surfaced sometimes; familiar, but separate, knowledge of the thing without the nostalgia that usually came with memory. She walked away from the room and didn’t look back.

After the drama of the rest of the day, dinner was a painfully boring affair. Garreth and Edér did most of the talking, with Garreth asking for any tidbit of information he could think of and Edér glancing at Kai for permission before he shared anything at all about her, even things that her parents would obviously already know.

Aloth spoke a little, always clipped and polite and sounding a little like a threat, and every chance he got he made a subtle remark about the Leaden Key. Nothing incriminating, nothing that would make Mother ask questions, but every time he did it Father would stumble over his words, his friendly mask slipping just slightly. If they had still needed confirmation, they certainly had it now.

Adelaide said nothing more than the occasional noncommittal noise in answer to something her husband said, and Gaius was blessedly silent, sulking from whatever Garreth had said to him when they left earlier. He didn’t stop glaring, though, his attention drifting between all three of them but mostly centered on Edér, though conveniently never when Edér was also looking at him.

There were no knives. Maybe because of what happened last time, maybe just because the kitchen staff was smart enough to avoid giving them weapons. Iselmyr didn’t say anything, but Kai could feel her disappointment anyway.

When the last course was cleared away, Kai immediately got to her feet. Adelaide made an indignant noise, started to protest, but Garreth held up a hand to silence her. “You’re right. We’ve wasted enough time. To my study, then?”

He looked like he wanted to protest when Aloth and Edér followed them, but Father was smarter than that. He opened the door and ushered them inside, shutting it firmly before Gaius could slink in after them.

Kai had never been allowed in his study, growing up. She’d snuck in once or twice, of course - this is where all the good books were, when she was young enough to assume that ‘good’ and ‘forbidden’ were the same thing. It bore more than a passing resemblance to her old bedroom upstairs, precarious bookcases and untidy desk, but it all seemed impersonal compared to hers. There were no keepsakes or mementos, no flowers or patterned rugs or personality; this was a space for scientific and magical pursuits, and there was no room in it for sentimentality.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Kai pulled out the Leaden Key amulet she had in her pocket, one that the Devil of Caroc had found for her in this very room some months back. She threw it onto the desk in front of her father. “How long?”

“Akaia--”

“How. Long?”

“Decades. Long before you were born.” The man that sat at the desk wore her father’s face, but he may as well have been a stranger. He looked at her like she was some newly discovered lifeform: wary, curious, a little frightened, and for the first time that she could recall, she saw a little hint of Gaius’s cruelty in his smile. “Is it true what they say? Are you the Watcher that killed the Grandmaster?”

“Yes,” she said, as casually as if they were discussing the weather.

“Are you…” his eyes darted to Aloth, whose cold silence he clearly considered the larger threat than looming, heavily-armed Edér, “here to kill me too?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I’m your father. You would murder your own flesh and blood?” He looked disappointed, but not surprised.

Kai spoke through clenched teeth to keep from screaming. “Do not play the sympathy card on me, Father. Not after all the years you spent ignoring the things Mother and Gaius did.”

“I didn’t know,” he said, like it should have been enough.

“How could you not know?” She leaned over the desk like she was about to vault over it, her fingers digging hard enough into the edge that her nails left lines in the wood. “How could you not notice the bruises? The weeks upon weeks where I was missing? Locked away like some--”

He raised his voice to speak over her. “Well, as you know, my work--”

Kai scoffed. “Oh yes. Your work. I’d forgotten how much more important work is than family--”

He stood from his desk chair, clearly hoping to intimidate her with his height. “When you have a family of your own, perhaps you’ll understand--”

“I have one! I have a daughter!” That finally shut Garreth up. He fell back into his chair, stunned, but she wasn’t done. “She’s six, and she is everything to me, and I can’t imagine ever treating her the way you have treated me!”

“I have a granddaughter?” he said in a small, almost timid voice.

“Not by blood. She’s adopted.”

“Oh.”

“She’s an orlan.”

“Oh.” The disgust in that one word made Kai so angry she could barely see, and this time only Edér’s restraining hand on her shoulder kept her from throttling her father.

“And that is why I didn’t bring her here.”

“Ah! But see!” Garreth exclaimed, pointing a finger at her. “You have left your own daughter--”

“With the rest of her family. Surrounded by dozens of people who love her. Who would rearrange the stars themselves if she asked them to. I didn’t leave her alone.” She said ‘alone’ like some people would say ‘poisoned’ or ‘on fire,’ like there was no worse fate she could imagine.

“You weren’t alone, Akaia. You had--” he paused, thinking, realizing for perhaps the first time just how isolated she’d actually been “--your sisters.”

“Yes. And they ran away too, you’ll notice.”

There was nothing left to say to that, so she and her father simply stared at each other across the desk and the endless abyss between them. He’d been hoping she’d come home to rebuild bridges, she realized, but all she’d done was to make sure the old ones were still burning.

“Kai…” Aloth put a gentle hand on her elbow.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, darling, we got a little off topic.” She shook her head, and when she sat down across from her father she was poised and completely in control once more. “I need information. And if I were you, I’d be thorough. What you say could be a deciding factor on how many kith are walking out of this room tonight.”

Garreth looked at the three of them calculatingly, apparently recovered from the fight as quickly as his daughter had. He leaned his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers together. “What kind of information?”

She shrugged. “Anything you have. Power structures, how things have changed since the destruction of the Wheel, what the hierarchy of the Leaden Key looks like now that it’s been years since Thaos died. Is that even common knowledge?” Kai couldn’t imagine the Leaden Key suddenly being free with information, especially about the death of their leader. Was this the first time Father had even heard Thaos’ name?

“It is, yes, though it was more than a year after his death before anyone knew. And your name and appearance have never been common knowledge, beyond ‘The Watcher of Caed Nua.’ You are considered a, how did they phrase it? Seditionist, anarchist, and a highly dangerous enemy to have.” He chuckled, but it wasn’t a friendly sound. “I don’t know if I should be proud or concerned.”

“Proud,” Aloth said immediately.

“Definitely proud,” Edér added right after.

“I’ve heard of you, as well.” He turned to Aloth, as if just remembering he was in the room, who visibly bristled at the condescending shift in Father’s tone. “Aloth, was it? I know your voice, boy. You were one of us once.”

“Yes. Until the moment I met Kai.” He glanced her way, a touch of softness in his smile. It was there and gone in a flash, and when he looked back at Garreth his pale eyes were cold once more.

“And now you hunt us. Your former brothers. At her order?”

“At her side. And at my own order.” He was calm and confident, his back straight and staring unflinchingly into the eyes of a man who had clearly been one of those giving him orders in the past. Kai was so proud of him she could hardly breathe.

“Do you know who you are to the Leaden Key now, boy?” If Gaius had a crocodile’s smile, Garreth’s was more akin to a shark, hungrier and toothier. “You are a bogeyman. A shadow. A phantom who destroys a congregation from the inside out. Entire sects have ripped themselves apart just on the fear that you might be among them.”

“Good.”

Garreth opened his mouth to say something else, but Edér stepped forward, drawing his attention to him. His smile was the least friendly Kai had ever seen from him. “Can’t help but notice you keep changin’ the subject.”

“Ah. Indeed.” Father had the decency to at least look guilty, and sat back in his chair again. “Very well. How much time do you have?”

“As much as it takes.”

It was very, very late at night when they finally stepped back out into the hall. They decided, ultimately, not to murder Kai’s father in cold blood, though they made it very clear that they were not in the habit of sparing members of the Leaden Key and that he may want to consider distancing himself from the cult before they finished burning it down.

They headed toward the exit without another word. No one tried to stop them or find some other contrived reason for them to stay. They’d worn out their welcome, what little they’d had to begin with, and it was time to go.

“I’ll see you soon,” Gaius threatened quietly as Kai walked past him to the door, the words meant only for her.

She turned and met his empty black eyes and, just for the fun of it, loosened the reins she kept her Watcher powers under. Her eyes filled with violet fire and he took an automatic step back. “For your sake, I hope not. I won’t be so polite next time.” She continued past him and into the humid summer Cythwood night.

The door closed behind them, but Adelaide followed them outside. If she’d looked like a ghost before, the resemblance was startling now. She almost seemed to glow under the moonlight. Kai couldn’t tell if she followed them because she had more to say or because she just wanted to make sure they were actually going away. She assumed the latter.

“Don’t worry, Mother. You’ll never see me again.” She didn’t curtsey or extend a hand to shake, she just turned to leave.

Adelaide called after her. “I only wanted the best for you, Akaia.”

Kai closed her eyes, praying to dead and absent gods that she could keep her composure just a little longer, and turned back around. “You had a terrible way of showing it.”

“Did I? Look at you.” She waved a hand as if trying to encompass everything that Kai was, her scuffed armor and battle scars and wild curls and unwavering companions. “A proper lady, an ambassador, a leader. I’m proud of you.”

Kai wanted to muster up more righteous anger, but she was wrung out and frayed at the edges. “You should have been proud of me when I was a little girl with frizzy hair and her nose in a book. I shouldn’t have had to stand toe-to-toe with the gods to get your permission to be myself.”

For the first time in her life, Kai saw uncertainty on her mother’s face. She’d had her fill of new firsts for the day. “Have you really done that? Met.. met the gods?”

“Yes.” She started listing her accomplishments in a bored voice, ticking them off on her fingers. “I’m also a pirate captain, and a thayn. I’m Awakened. I’m a Watcher. I’ve shaken hands with kings and monsters and the Pallid Knight herself. The gods all know my name and some of them seek me out for counsel. I’ve seen and learned and done things you could never imagine.” She dropped her hands to her sides with a tired sigh. “And I’ve done it all myself. Not alone, but still on my own.” There was nothing else to say. The wounds were too deep to heal and too old to hurt. “You have no power over me, Mother, and I don’t owe you a gods damned thing. Goodbye.”

She walked away without another word. After all of this, there was no way she was letting her mother get the last word. Aloth and Edér followed her in silence, too, and the three of them made their way deeper into the Cythwood and away from the Cirdani estate.

Only once the lights had long faded behind them did Kai sag against the trunk of a tree, all the tension of the day draining out of her.

“You wanna go see your family next, Aloth?” Edér leaned against a different tree and pulled out his pipe. A match flared brightly in the night for just a moment as he lit it. “Since we’re openin’ old wounds and all, might as well make the rounds.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Aloth said quickly, arms crossed over his chest as if to ward off the very idea of it.

“I can’t profess to the same amount of self-control the both of you have.” Kai reached out for Aloth and he slipped his hand into hers. “If I were in the same room as your father, darling, the only way it would end is in bloodshed.”

“I would not stop you,” he said quietly, repeating her own words back to her, then smoothly changed the subject away from himself. “Don’t your parents live in Aedyr as well, Edér? Would you like to visit them?”

“Nah. There’s no bad blood there, but…” a shadow of old grief passed over his expression and Kai reached out and took his hand too. “Well, we haven’t really been close since Woden died, and I’m not sure they’d even recognize me after all this time.”

“Their loss.”

“Yeah, maybe. Hey.” He nudged Kai’s calf with the toe of his boot. “I’m real proud o’you, Kiki. Of both of you. Standin’ up to them like that. I don’t think either of you would’ve done that when we met.”

She laughed, and it was a lot less strained than she expected. “You’re not wrong. I certainly wouldn’t have.”

“Nor I.” Aloth fell into a contemplative silence before adding, “Paralyzed by fear would have been the more likely reaction to questioning a high-ranking member of the Leaden Key, I think.”

“Not now, though. You heard what he said, right? Boogeyman. The whole cult tearin’ itself apart out of fear of you.” Edér threw an arm over Aloth’s shoulders; Aloth pretended not to enjoy the attention. “You know, I didn’t think I’d be sayin’ this, but it was a pretty good day, all things considered.”

“You’re just saying that because I kissed you.” Kai was eager to change the subject, she didn’t want to talk about her family anymore, and that was a much more promising topic.

“Well, that certainly didn’t hurt matters. ‘Specially since it sounds like you might wanna do it again?” There was no denying or misinterpreting the clear note of hope in his voice.

“I might.” She exchanged a warm glance and a knowing smile with her husband as she echoed his sentiment from earlier. “After Aloth’s had his turn.”

That hope blossomed into a wide grin. “Not that I’m not all for that - because I really, really am - but… what brought this on?”

“You can thank Iselmyr for that, actually.” Kai took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to start. She’d practiced what she would say, but they’d already done this out of order. “I don’t know if you know this about me, darling, but I can be a bit oblivious. Especially about emotional matters. Especially when my own emotions are involved.”

“I may have noticed, yeah. Took the two o’you ages to finally figure things out.” He nodded back in the vague direction of her parents’ estate. “Growin’ up in a place like that, I can’t imagine there was much love or support to go around..”

“You’re not wrong.” In fact, she remembered how strange she’d found Edér’s casual affection when they’d first met.

“Iselmyr pointed out to us, in her way,” Aloth started slowly, but he grew more confident as he spoke, “that the way both of us are with you is very similar to the way we are with each other. And that it’s likely that once we figured out our feelings for each other, we stopped looking too closely at our feelings for other people. Namely, you.”

“We’ve done a lot of talking, and a lot of thinking, and we’ve come to the conclusion that she was right.” She squeezed her husband’s hand. “Loathe as Aloth may be to admit it.”

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day,” he said dryly. “This isn’t how we intended to broach the subject, but you know Kai. Jump in with both feet, worry about the details later.”

Despite his tone, she knew he didn’t hold it against her. “Hesitation is what kept me trapped in that house for fifty years. I don’t have room for it anymore.”

“You could have at least said something first.”

“Like I did with you, you mean?” They’d skipped straight to ‘I love you,’ and she knew he hadn’t forgotten that. “Besides, I think I made my point pretty well, actually. Don’t you?” The question was directed at Edér and accompanied by a coy smirk.

“Yeah, I guess you did.” He ducked his head, but smiled back at her. “I feel a bit like y’all pulled the rug out from under me. But in a good way, I think.” He paused to collect his thoughts, eyes darting between the two elves. “Let me make sure I’m gettin’ this straight. You’re asking if I want to, to court both of you?”

“That’s one way to put it, yes. It isn’t that uncommon for people to have multiple spouses, or three or more kith to share a bed and a life together. Isn’t that what we already do? It’s always been the three of us.” She indicated the way Edér had his arm around Aloth, the way she was still holding their hands. “We’re just asking if you want to… take the next step, as it were.”

“It wasn’t our intention to put you on the spot, Edér,” Aloth said gently. “Take as much time as you need to think about it. We won’t be offended if it’s not something you want, or if you don’t feel the same way. We’ll understand. But it didn’t feel right to keep it from you, either.”

“Right. Okay.” Edér fell very silent, staring into the trees for about thirty seconds, then he nodded. “Okay. I’m done thinkin’.” Without any more preamble, he slid his hand along Aloth’s jaw, tilted his chin up, and kissed him, the same way he’d kissed Kai earlier - like he’d been waiting for it, like he’d wanted to do it for a long time. Aloth made a sound that was too dignified to be called a squeak (if only just), but he responded enthusiastically.

Kai grinned, watching them with undisguised affection and delight. “Miri’s never going to let us live this down. She’ll be completely insufferable for weeks. At least.”

“Worth it.” Edér gave Kai’s hand a tug, pulling her closer. Both of them wrapped an arm around her as soon as she was in range and they all just held each other for a little while. Edér was right, Kai admitted silently to herself; despite the odds, it had been a good day.

Aloth chuckled, the last of the chill that had been in his voice at the estate finally melted away. “Maybe to you. She’s not in your head.” He stepped reluctantly out of their arms. “We should get moving. I’d much rather we continue this in our cabin on the ship instead of standing in the woods in the middle of the night, if it’s all the same to you.”

“You sure? We could camp out like the old days.” Edér gestured to the dark forest around them, heavy and dense with vine-covered canopies far above them. It was nothing like the oak and pine and maple trees of the Valewood where they had camped in the ‘old days.’

“No. Absolutely not.” Aloth shook his head vehemently enough that his hair fanned out behind him.

“I’d prefer to have an ocean between my family and me again as soon as possible,” Kai added.

Edér laughed, loud enough to startle a few birds from a nearby tree. “Neither of you are any fun at all.”

“Liar.”

“Prove me wrong.” There was heat in his smile and behind his eyes and she found herself leaning toward it.

Aloth rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too. “If you keep challenging her like that, we’ll be stuck here all night.”

“There’s worse places to be.” Edér conceded, though, at least for the moment. He wrapped an arm around each of them, and they finally continued their trek back to the Defiant.

[elrondsscribe]

No ATLA shipping wars, please. There is room for ALL the ships.

So I’m sure anyone who’s been tracking me lately knows that I’ve been all up in Avatar: The Last Airbender ...

And I must say, after checking out the tags, I am TERRIFIED to speak my mind about ANY of the ships I like!! Like, I don’t want to be thought of as a poisonous Supporter Of That Which Is Toxic And Problematic because I did or didn’t gel with one ship or other. Spoilers under the cut.

See, I’m always the kind of fan that nobody likes: I’m the MCU fan that appreciates Steve and Tony; I’m the Star Wars fan that loved all nine Episodes. So when I say that I sail literally all of the ships because all of them hit me in different kinds of feels, well, y’all know to expect this from me.

(I should say at this point that the only thing I’m considering ‘canon’ for the purposes of this conversation is A:TLA; no LoK or comics is relevant here.)

(Also, can I just say what a wonderful change of pace it is to be in a property where, at least in the generation of our ‘mains,’ there seem to be more named, developed female characters??)

So I’m gonna start out with saying: I like the canon pairings as they stand! Kataang, Sukki, and Maiko being the main ones, obvs. However, I also like all kinds of AU pairings too!

Like Zutara - I mean, I can hardly say anything here that ten thousand others haven’t already said better, but their journeys do parallel each other in a lot of significant ways, and I think that, by the end of the show, they do legitimately share enough to have the foundations of a good relationship, if as a fanwriter you wanted to go there. You could make much of the poetry of their differences (”you rise with the moon, and I with the Sun”), and/or really develop their existing ability to safely be the ‘splash zone’ for each other’s turmoil. Besides, I think Katara’s mothering fussbudget energy would be a great thing for Zuko, and there’s a gentleness to her that he’d find healing.

{Now, I’ve seen a lot of comparisons between Zutara and Reylo, made by people who either want to demean or defend both ships. I’ve also seen these comparisons soundly trashed by people who like one, but not both, of these ships. As someone who never has had strong feelings either for or against Reylo, and as someone who loves Zutara but not exclusively, my response to all of that drama is a big old shrug of my shoulders. So don’t come at me screaming about Reylo, either to stan or cancel. Please just don’t.}

Also I don’t know a good way to say this, but you know how some people just can’t seem to resist reading Zuko and/or Sokka as gay? Well, I can’t stop reading Mai as lesbian; I don’t know why.

I don’t know which pairing Taang is. If it’s Aang/Ty Lee, omg yes!! Kill me with all the sparkles and rainbows! I already want to eat them both up. More seriously, I think Aang’s peaceable temperament would be a really welcome change in her life, after Zuko’s turmoil and Mai’s ice and Azula’s, well, Azula-ness. She’d probably just love Aang’s aura :) 

If Taang is Aang/Toph, well, we’ve observed that our flighty lil’ Aangster could use a grouding influence :) I don’t know who on Tumblr pointed it out, but Toph is the last person in the world to fangirl over Aang, which seems to be very good for him, while also not clipping his wings. While I do believe they’d be the kind of couple to quarrel and, at times, drift apart from each other (she’s incredibly rooted while he’s the embodiment of a free-spirit), for some reason I can easily see them finding each other again. There’s a scene in my head, one where an adult Aang is faced with the necessity of a sacrifice play that he might not come back from, and instead of tearfully trying to convince him not to do it, Toph says, “Go get ‘em, Twinkletoes.”

[And if you ship Zutara alongside Aang/Toph, you could have a fanfic where you did a Parallel, with Two Ships Of Opposite-Power-Benders. I’d be a fan!]

Now I’ve seen Sokkla floating around too, and I must say that this intrigues me, especially the way that this ship is connected to ideas about the redemption of Azula. I’ve seen some people being really upset that Azula never got a redemption arc in the show, but c’mon guys. A redemption arc for Azula would have taken a long-ass time - it would’ve been awesome, but it would’ve taken a long-ass time, definitely longer than a fourth season, I think. But if you were going to go with a combination of a redemption arc and a ship for her, Sokka would be a great idea. I don’t think Azula knows what fun and merriment are, and who knows those things better than Sokka?

[Honestly, that’s the thing about shipping Sokka with anyone: he would bring them laughter.]

But enough about the het AU ships, let’s talk about the gay ones!

Zukka would be the most prominent example, of course. The rapport that Zuko develops with Sokka over ‘The Boiling Rock’ is beautiful to behold (jokes about ‘that’s rough, buddy’ aside), and heaven knows Zuko needs someone to teach him how to laugh.

And remember how I said that I somehow can’t see Mai as straight? Well, I also can’t stop shipping her with Azula (don’t know the ship name for this one, but I know it exists). Obviously this ship would have more than an edge of ownership and manipulation about it, but they’re so deadly radiant and it’s like I can’t look away from them.

And Ty Lee is just so adorable and sincere (even with all the buried sadness) that shipping her with almost any of the other girls just makes my heart melt. Especially Katara, who would just cuddle the hell out of her whenever she’s feeling down. Or even Azula, who would totally own and work her but also, like, dazzle her. Main exception being Suki - for some reason, my head goes all kinds of hot, dirty places when I imagine Suki and Ty Lee sparring.

However, all this being said, I still have love for the canon ships that we got.

For example, like I said, I do ship Kataang, and I think together they’re incredibly sweet, but I also think that Katara’s tendency to hover and Aang’s tendency to (literally and metaphorically) fly away from/float above problems would jointly become a not-inconsiderable hurdle in a long-term relationship. Now I’ve observed couples in real life with similar dynamics, and I’ll stick out my neck and say that I consider this a workable hurdle, especially if both Katara and Aang grow in maturity and interpersonal understanding as they get older.

Similarly with Maiko: we see that, where Zuko’s emotions tend to run fire-hot, Mai’s tend to run ice-cold; we saw a clear example of these tendencies really clashing with each other. And Mai’s way of showing Zuko affection does seem to have genuinely perplexed some people who watched the show, to the point that they didn’t read it as affection at all. But again, drawing on what I’be observed, some couples really do develop a ‘love code’ that they understand even if literally no one else does. I don’t see any indication of either Mai or Zuko actually ill-using the other; and I will always stan this line from Mai when she made her big choice: I love Zuko more than I fear you.

As for Sukki - well, you already know. Sokka definitely grew and healed a lot from it, but I don’t think the trauma of being unable to protect Yue is one that will ever truly leave him. And as much as Suki understands him, I do think Sokka’s protectiveness will sometimes grate on her. She’s a motherfucking warrior-chieftain. And yes, this can definitely shape into a relational problem, but not one that can’t be worked around.

So ... TLDR, I love all the ships, and refuse to be part of the anti drama.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, DIANA! You’ve been accepted for the role of DIANA. Admin Rosey:  There is a freshness and charm that Daphne brings to everything - her interviews, her conversations, her reasoning. This decision was not at all an easy one because both applications highlighted different aspects of her that we love and adore. But ultimately it was this voice, this distinctly Daphne voice that brought the decision to a close. She makes you fall in love with her that much more. I can't to see what she does when you bring her to life on the dash!  Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Diana

Age | 21

Preferred Pronouns | she/her/hers

Activity Level | y’all know, but I’m about to graduate college + be unemployed for a bit, so I’ll have writing time.

Timezone | PST

How did you find the rp?  | Div Stanning since 2017.

Current/Past RP Accounts | Castora’s account.

IN CHARACTER

Character | Daphne Adèle Allard / Diana

What drew you to this character? | Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Daphne knows this, even if the crown she wears is a halo of thornless roses – and she fucking loves that halo, no matter what the cost is. What draws me to Daphne is that even though she’s an impeccable pickpocket, even though she loves power, and even though she’s got plenty of vices despite her cherubic features,  Daphne loves. She knows what it’s like to suffer (even if it’s not like what others have gone through) and she wants to do something. She wants to help, but how much of that is her ego and how much of that is genuine is ambiguous. There’s that line between a good person and someone who does  good deeds that’s very blurred when it comes to Daphne, and that fascinates me. She looks like someone who would get chewed up and spit out by the mafia, but her light shines brighter. In some ways, she’s like an anti-Marie Antoinette; she’s got that aesthetic, but she’s too bright to do a “Let them eat cake” moment (even though I know she didn’t actually say that) or play peasantry at a fancy cottage. She’s privileged and beloved and smart enough to know how to combine the two.  I also find it fascinating that she almost wishes that she was that princess in an ivory tower – so everyone could be safe – and that while she embodies a little of that trope, she’s this really interesting reversal, where she’s both the princess and the dragon. There’s this interplay between the corruption of power and the trope that the people who don’t want power are the ones best suited for it; Daphne is not as angelic as she looks. She wants to save. She wants to be a heroine. She is hesitant of the power she wants to wield because she knows herself too well. But at the same time, there’s nothing wrong with wanting power. Power and goodness is a zero-sum game, especially in Verona. There’s also something relatable about Daphne that I really like, as her experience with getting bullied is reminiscent of my own. She’s incredibly beautiful, incredibly rich, incredibly powerful, and incredibly adored, but she’s still relatable, or at least, knows how to manage her image so that she comes across as aspirational and human, as well. Also, I adore that she’s 31. She’s got some naivete, but she’s a grown-ass woman with her own ambitions. In addition, her mob name is my name, and I’m shallow.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | (1)  A CROWN FOR YOUR PRINCESS – Daphne doesn’t look like it, but she’s got ambition. Right now, she has not let the fact that’s sees a member of organized crime taint her. She is deified, but there is yet to be blood on her hands. I think it would be interesting for Daphne’s mask of heroism to be pushed when she has to do something truly horrible, truly unforgivable in the name of the Capulet’s. Her desire to do good with her desire to get (and keep) her power at war with one another is interesting to me, and I think pushing her to define her moral compass (or lack thereof) and figuring out where she wants to go in the mob power structures could be interesting to play out. (2) A HEART FULL OF LOVE? - Daphne is a lover. She wants love. She wants it to be real. But she’s also engaged to a man that she doesn’t love and is fascinated by Renzo to the point that he’s described as her Achilles’ Heel. Beau can help her get everything she wants – on the paper, they are a fairytale couple – but he doesn’t inspire passion in her yet; at the same time, she would be upset if he were to step out on her. I think it could be interesting to see Daphne’s own feelings for Beau become more real and have to deal with the implications of real love. Because Daphne wants power. She wants to be a heroine. She wants to be adored. But all she’s let the world see is a mask, a symbol. Not a real woman. And it’s impossible to love a symbol; you can be cherished and adored, but never truly, heartbreakingly loved in the way that she wants to be. (3) O, DEATH – Something about Daphne’s bio that fascinated me is that it describes Beau as an Apollo figure whom Daphne sees more like Hades – a man of death, of isolation, and of riches. She’s darkness where there is light. But Daphne is more of the same – she is Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, but she has her own affair with the darkness inside of her. She is a Persephone and her own Hades. She knows she’s capable of great horrors, and that she could destroy Verona if she wants to. It would be interesting to see Daphne be pushed to that darker place where she wants the city that she adores to burn. People want to destroy beautiful things. Daphne and Verona are both beautiful, and ripe for rot.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | (Devastatingly) yes.

IN DEPTH

Please choose between the interview or the para sample (or both, if you like!)

In-Character Interview: The following questions must be answered in-character, and in para form (quotations, actions written out if applicable, etc). There is no minimum or maximum limit for your response - simply answer as you would if you were playing the character.

What is your favorite place in Verona? She smooths down her hair, subconsciously rearranging the artful brown curls. Daphne doesn’t need to double or triple check in the mirror whether her lipstick is perfect or her eyeliner is crisp. She knows her angles. She knows herself. And she agreed to this interview. Not to talk about her love life, but to talk about the shelter she had just joined the board of. “I’m a Verona girl through and through,” Daphne laughs. “You’re a Verona native, too – right, Signora? You know that this city can be a lot, putting it mildly. And you know I’m just not being facetious when I say that it’s hard to pick a favorite spot. Hmm…but if I had to pick, I’d pick the Castelvecchio Bridge. For so long, it was a symbol of unity in our divided city. My parents used to take me on long walks around the city when I was little, and I remember stopping and looking out over the river. I just have fond memories of Verona at that bridge. And it’s so horrible what happened – the explosion. To have that bright for the city get taken away, it’s just horrible. I’ve been working with the Verona’s Children Relief Fund to help civilian parents who’ve lost their jobs due to the explosion. They’ve been working with families hurt by Verona’s mob war for over a decade, and really, they’re work is incredible. For example, Carlotta Alberti. She’s a single mother living in Borgo Roma with the cutest 12-year-old ever. Give me a sec –” Daphne pulls out her phone and shows the interviewer a picture of her posing with Carlotta and her son, Leo. “The warehouse Carlotta worked in was damaged during the explosion and it hasn’t been rebuilt. She’s got bills to pay. She’s got a kid to provide a future for. Through the Relief Fund, we’ve managed to set Carlotta up with an entry-level position at Falco & Company that has full benefits and room for her to grow.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

Daphne grits her teeth. She knows the interviewer means no harm with this question. It’s a chance to show that she’s vulnerable and that even though she’s been blessed to the Heavens with fortune, good looks and renown, Daphne Adèle Allard still has it in her to be a woman of the people. And a woman of the people is good, and kind, and loving, and doesn’t think badly of others. Still, the first thought that pops into her head is Beau. Arrogant, useless, cold-hearted man, Daphne thinks, careful not to let her absolute frustration with her husband-to-be show on her face. “That’s a hard question to answer,” Daphne starts. “Not because I haven’t made mistakes. God knows that I have.” Her heart thunders. Daphne Allard could never escape the feeling that she was on the precipice of destruction – not of herself, but of destroying others. “It’s just that I’m a perfectionist, you know? When I do something, I need to do it right because people are counting on me. A mistake is a ripple that can turn into a tsunami.” The interviewer nods, seemingly embarrassed at having to draw attention to the fact that Daphne avoided her previous question. “But if you had to say?”

Daphne only smiles. “Not coming back to Verona sooner. I love France with all my heart, but Verona is my home. I was away for quite a while. There’s this French saying – Petit a petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. Little by little, the bird makes its nest. And I really want to make my nest here.”

The lady nods. “So, are you excited for marriage then?” “You have no idea.” You really don’t.

“Have you talked about kids, yet?” “We’ve discussed it,” Daphne responds coyly.

What has been the most difficult task asked of you? When in doubt, pivot to the wedding – Daphne had learned this at a young age. Everyone adores a blushing bride. “This is a ‘I need to check my privilege’ moment, but can I say planning a wedding? There’s so much that goes into it. Finding a good venue, good security. Finding a dress when you’ve got curves is not as easy as Say Yes to the Dress makes it look. Beau and I are trying our best to plan a sustainable wedding. We haven’t announced the list of charities yet, but we intend to do a no-gift policy. Instead, we’d like to ask our friends and family to donate to an organization on the yet-to-be announced list.” Beau and Daphne had discussed no such thing….at least, not in earnest, but no one needed to do that. “Okay, but in all seriousness – one of the hardest things I’ve been asked to do is forgive. I was bullied a lot as a child because I dared to be fat. I looked different from the other girls at school, and they let me know it. I remember every taunt, every oink made behind my back, every time someone tried to put me on a crash diet. It took a toll on my self-esteem. Every insecurity I have got magnified. And I really hated those girls. And hate really hurts you; generally speaking, it hurts you more than the other people. Since my engagement, a few people who were not the nicest to me reached out to see how I was filling out my bridal party.” “Seriously?” She asks. “Seriously. For them, the past didn’t matter. But for me, it did. I couldn’t look in a mirror for a year, and even though I’ve moved on, and I love myself and I love my life and I found someone who loves me for me –” Oh, how she wishes that were true. “ – There was still this resentment in my heart that I struggled to let go of. Forgiving those small deep cuts when there’s no apology, no remorse, nothing, was difficult. But I had to do it for myself. Those girls – maybe they’ve changed; I’m an optimist who thinks people are capable of that. Perhaps I’m a bit old-fashioned? Regardless of who they are, I don’t have to go back to being that sad, lonely little girl because they messaged me.” She pauses and adds,  “I’m lucky, you know, that these are the extent of my problems.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues? Everyone and their mother wants to know the answer to this. Daphne has been answering this question for years. The Allard family had long ties to the Capulets, but Daphne was not going to go about advertising that or her own role in the mob. “The rivalry has been going on for years. There’s a lot of wounds on both sides,” Daphne starts. “I want peace for the people of Verona who’ve been caught in the cross-fire.” That’s why I am an emissary for the Capulets. To help, she thinks. I am a relatively high-ranking Capulet emissary because I want to be. She thrived in the darkness, in the cold, just as much as she thrived in the light. A lie. She shone in the darkness, but she craved the light. How badly Daphne Allard wanted to be bright, and shining, and good. “I’m just thinking about the Festival of Love,” Daphne starts, subtly pointing fingers at the Montagues. “So much chaos that didn’t need to happen.”

Extras: If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here! This is OPTIONAL.

Her favorite movie is Amelie

Daphne patronizes numerous charities, but has no set one up in her own name yet. She wants to set up something that could help with homelessness in the city.

She is a Virgo (born August 29th)

Daphne is an ENFJ

She enjoys watching Bon Appetit videos

PLAYLIST (as in, a playlist Daphne would have on her Spotify account)

La Vie en Rose by Edith Piaf

Pavane for a Dead Princess by Maurice Ravel

Primadonna by Marina & the Diamonds

Petite Suite by Claude Debussy

Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles

Spring (Four Seasons) by Antonio Vivaldi

Waking Up Slow by Gabrielle Aplin

Elegie by Gabriel Faure

Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley

Mother Goose Suite by Maurice Ravel

Non je ne regrette rien by Edith Piaf

[talesfromacrip]

more ehh thoughts (recent edition):

w o w

can’t even speak my damn mind anymore in this house I guess without getting the whole, ‘get out then if you don’t like it here. look for a section 8 place and blah, blahhhh’ speech.

the signature speech of my parents when I get on their ‘last nerves’..

all just for speaking my mind. lovely

all bc I said something in regards to something political my dad was talking about. then saying black lives matter after bc it was also apart of the conversation

(which is my opinion)

that word doesn’t sit well in my parents ears.. my dad to be specific apparently.

he then started saying I should just look for somewhere else to go and that if I say that again, something will happen. (not anything violent on me,but make me leave to somewhere else type of happen )

guess my parents (specifically my dad) wants me dead if he wants me to go out and find somewhere else to go. it’s not like, idk, i have a fucking immunocompromised system or anything like that ya know?? also.... during a fucking pandemic as well ?? helllloooo, old man?? i just don’t know anymore sometimes with my parents

caught me off guard a bit and hurt really fucking bad.. like, wow. if that’s how you feel, then let me go which you won’t and won’t admit.

used to it though which is silly to say, but I can’t do anything much about it even if i tried. so, I must deal for now anyway I can.

we settled our differences though which, I’m glad, but I hate that I was the first one to do it. shows how it is in my family at times

-

at least my mom and few friends are on my side. ridiculous to be treated like this for having a fucking opinion.  

doesn’t help either to get teased about it. like I haven’t been most of my life already ya know, shit.

sick of this house sometimes. the people in it, I should say.. sigh

———

———

I feel like I’m not, as ‘feminine’ as a lady should be. adds to my existing body probsss

can’t put makeup on. can’t get my nails done. can’t use bath bombs. can’t use facial creams or certain acne products. can’t buy clothes I’d like to shape my body and whatnot.. it goes onnnn. I would like to do what a lady likes to feel/look her absolute best ya know.

I can’t though. trying?????which doesn’t really go anywhere much tbh

I have an unused makeup palette and lippies going to absolute waste in my drawer.

which, cost me gooood money bc gooood brand. treat myself.

to see it go to waste though,is heartbreaking...

I could be using it now during the pandemic,but I have no one to help me with it. I can’t do it myself with my fucked up arms/hands either so that’s a nope.

my mom won’t help me and I’ve asked. she has more important things to do than make me look like a little clowns spawn.

I have so many ideas and I can’t execute them as I’d like. never can and it hurts. maybe on a drawimg, but having it applied to your face is a much better experience. very relaxing as well,but to take off.. that’s a process

doesn’t help that I’m told I’d look better with it as well, which totally helps my self esteem ya know. "it suits your moon face and covers those acne bits.."

fucking hell.. like, let me be.

guess not though it seems :lllllll

-

I feel gross about my skin.. dry and flaky at times from my medication and bc my body is a lil ass. it’s fucking oily on occasions as well.. ughhh. a whole nightmare, in my opinion

small acne scars,pimples from an imbalanced body in miscellaneous spots and places where they shouldn’t be.. I hate it.

I cannot look at myself without wanting to scream sometimes. I just stare and flip through a plethora of thoughts until I’m sitting there watching myself cry

I can’t buy the right skin products without suffering a break out or some kind of allergic reaction either. that’s how ‘sensitive’ i am.. ughh and people think it’s sooo fucking easy to take care of your skin.

help me out then and do it for me instead of telling me when I’ve said why I couldn’t in the first place..

fucking shit

-

I use to do my nails and paint them different colors almost every other week or so when I was younger. that was when I could move them to a certain extent. now i just can’t much for that. maybe?but I don’t want to risk twisting my wrist again. which, oddly helped a bit, but I’m not risking it

can’t even paint my right hand without leaning into a terrible spine position bc of my curled in fingers. it’s "so easy" though.my big ass it is

so, I just leave them bare nowadays

I have chipped and or broken nails anyway from fidgeting and anxiety. so, that’ll get in the way when they’re colored

sigh

-

bath bombs are the most elegant form of hygienic self care. a bubbly concoction for your skin to dip in.. ughhhh. sounds so relaxing and funnn

can’t sit in a fucking tub though to enjoy it and I don’t have the walk in ones. just a plain walk in shower. every time I see someone post about them, I melt inside. so pretty with the glitter fragments and the colorsss...mm

how I wish I could endure a porcelain tub to soak and forget about the world for a moment.

I can dream, but that still hurts as well.

-

I used to wear slim fitting tops for my stomach bc I was one of the chubby ones ya know.

now, I want to use them more bc my body doesn’t look how I thought it would be at my age. due to medication and lack of movement, just made it worse and it’s not my fault. feels like it is though and I tried. still am and it’s been hard lately with the pandemic. massive buying spells again so, some healthy goods are not available.

apparently though it seems nowadays being ‘thicc’ is in when years before it was absolutely frowned upon.

I got teased for being ‘thicc’ and now I’m somewhat getting praised for it?? kinda weird circus did I buy tickets for? unless I didn’t??

like, what do y’all mean, now it’s in????? stop being such a rude wad of shit and quit playing with people like this.

I don’t know what to accept much anymore and it’s bothers me so damn much

even if you do get praised,you must meet the standards. with some that is, I should say. must be at least some sort of skinny. some sort of, shaped being that I don’t really want to explain bc I feel it’s obvious.

some disabled folks are almost never in this section and when so, seems very fetishized.

hopefully this paints a small picture or whatever size you prefer your canvas to be. I’ve already talked about my body and more like this just gets me upset

———

———

uggh why are people still making stupid party plans, going to crowded places and doing other irresponsible shit... during a fucking pandemic?? It’s literally s o fucking irritating.

these people do not grasp this it seems, but ooooooohhh. gotta go out and risk it for someone who doesn’t even care about my health,others and even themselves.

fucking dumb

-

funny to see them complain about being home and all bc of this. like, how do you think I’ve felt and countless other disabled folks like me? sucks h u h. no freedom to go anywhere for risk of a fucking accident or worse, d e a t h.

it’s easy as hell to stay home and keep yourself occupied but apparently it’s a big ass deal

read, write, draw, cook, c l e a n. go out in your, idk, backyard as your outside relief?? is it really that b a d of a need to go somewhere??

especially when eventually it’ll drain you and you’ll eventually go back h o m e anyway ??t’s ridiculous.

"you should be thankful you can even go out."

yeah, to appointments, groceries, and concerts o n l y.

I don’t have the fucking privilege to go out at my own leisure and when I do, I have to plan like a mf.

it’s not easy. can’t drive. van is always busting on us. parents are my only source of a ride. can’t even generally go out anywhere bc of stupid stairs and all that.

I swear. every time I see a friend, mutual or family put something like that.. irritates me. I wanna comment so bad,but I don’t want to start anymore drama.

maybe soon I will. who fucking knows

———

———

i miss shows and all, but I just don’t as much.

I’m paranoid to think of going to future ones now..

I’ve already missed a majority of concerts my whole childhood and teen years due to my disability.

I don’t want to miss out on my young adult life now that I’m somewhat in a ‘better state’ bc some of y’all don’t want to be cautious and follow rules.

shows are therapeutic for me, but idk anymore now if it’s makimg me like this

disabled folks like myself who enjoy these shows are in so much fucking danger, it’s ridiculous.

we already were anyways with moshing and all.. which I know some act like they don’t know.

y’all are so desperate to go like, what about the other fandom folks who can’t even attend these shows though?? sad

these lives performances some artists have been doing are perfect and we need to support them more with this format. encourage the fuck out of them like the do to us with their music and whatnot.

I was so fucking thankful DGD did one.

it was a great time, but not so great when everyone is like, but what about an ‘actual show’?

it’s just, never enough with some of the fans I swear. irritating

yeahhh ,lets risk the fuckin band/bands getting sick so they can play for us. yasssss. shows how much they read up on the members and care about their health/wellbeing.

———

———

being sober brings back a lot of suppressed memories. nights are bit hard when going through this

makes me remember quite a bit of conversations that others have probably or most likely have forgotten by now as well

irritating and sad. that’s how I get some of my dreams as well which cause lack of sleep at timessss y a y

———

———

I, over share too much at times it seems.. how the hell do people want to know me though????

if I’m making the situation, odd or whatever, fucking tell me instead of ignoring it and trying to move on with some stupid shit

if I can fucking sit through y’alls oversharing.. can with fucking mine

———

———

I hate how everything that’s so wholesome and genuine I see, I can barely even do and say..

I especially hate how I imagine it with someone who deserves better. this is wearing me out I swear to fucking god

I put some of my eggs in the wrong basket.. again

ohhh fucking boooyyy

least it’s a good basket..

———

sometimes I feel so uneducated when taking with friends. my mind is like a fucking mad libs book on new game plus.

it’s blanks out and replaces important vocabulary with some silly childish shit instead

[rimalupin]

50 More Interesting Questions

Rules: fill this out and tag at least one person you’d like to know more about! Or just fill it out! Or don’t! Answer only some of them! Make up your own questions! “What kind of requirement is that”, you ask? A reasonable one! Who am I to tell you what to do? Anything goes!

Thank you for tagging me @theempresskaizer & @kakihoden! :D <3

1. What kind of food can’t you stand?: Anything fermented. Like, ew. Also brussel sprouts (Then again, I have yet find someone who can cook brussel sprouts “well.” :b)

2. If you could choose one minor inconvenience to never have to deal with again, what would you pick?: Public transit schedules. They’re so darn inconvenient (And yet I’m commuting for the remainder of my uni career. At least I’m saving money..?). -.-’

3. Have you got any useless talents?: I try to make use of my talents, so I’m gonna say no. :b

4. If you could be really really good at one thing, what would it be?: Taking (good & worthwhile) risks because I’m always so darn careful so I end up not trying new things sometimes.

5. Name a few people you think are extremely good-looking: ALL THE FRIENDS AND FAMILY I KNOW AND LOVE. <3 Oh, also Emma Watson, Gal Gadot, Shawn Mendes, Tom Holland, and all the other celebs I tend to fangirl about (I can’t name them all rn, haha sorry~. :P).

6. What was your favorite way to pass the time as a kid?: Singing all the Disney songs (Which I still do nowadays, haha~.). I would also read books, write my own stories, and act as if I was on a Disney Channel show (I was quite the Disney fangirl back in the day. xD)

7. What is something you’re proud of?: My friends who are just starting college/uni this year. Most of them are already setting up their dorms and getting ready for classes. They’re growing up so fast! :’)

8. What’s one character flaw in people that you just can’t tolerate?: Dishonesty. I don’t associate with phonies.

9. Do you consider yourself to be more of a leader or a follower?: I’m a bit of both. Then again, being a follower makes you a kind of leader: you essentially lead people to follow your leader, if that makes sense Okay I’ll shut up about leadership theory sorry y’all. :P

10. What kind of student are/were you?: The diligent one (but people often claim I’m the overachiever even tho I’m not always a straight A student lololol).

11. Butterfly effect question! Has there ever been a seemingly minor decision you’ve made (at the time) that ended up having a profound influence on your life?: Ohhhhh yes. This kind of thing has happened to me many times (In like the best ways possible, thankfully.).

12. Name your most irrational fear/aversion: Being alone/left out (Even though “I’m never really alone” ((Which I know I’m not. Hence the “irrational” part of this particular fear/aversion.)).)

13. Are there any fictional characters you find especially relatable?: Yup. Plenty of ‘em.

14. If you drink, what kind of drunk are you? Alternatively, what sort of person are you at parties?: I don’t drink... Yet. My Canadian friends are trying to get me to drink with them since I’m now legal in Canada but I’m scared heeeeeelp. :b I’m usually the wallflower if I don’t know anybody too well at a party. However, if I find people I’m comfortable hanging out with, I’ll stick with their squad throughout the event, talking, eating, dancing and taking pictures/SnapChats to our hearts’ desires~. ^-^

15. Do you fall in love easily? Or does it usually take a long time for you to trust someone?: Nope. I have to get to know the person before I “fall in love” with them, let alone having a crush on them. Which is why the biggest crushes I’ve had were on some of my closest friends. But I’ve never told them because I didn’t want to risk our friendships IDK I’M A NOOB WHEN IT COMES TO LOVEY-DOVEY THINGS. :b

16. Would you rather have one close friend or 100 casual friends?: One close friend. <3

17. Do you consider yourself to be more of a slob or a neat-freak?: Neat-freak. Definitely a neat-freak. xD

18. Describe a place (imaginary or real) that you would find incredibly cozy: 

Both of these locations are places where I’d have more than enough room to move or think. ^-^

Outdoors: Somewhere near the sea, where I could feel the sand on my toes, hear the waves splashing onto the shore, smell the ocean breeze, and watch the orange sunset glowing along the horizon.

Indoors: An empty practice room. Wooden floors, large mirrors in front of the room, dance barres along the side walls, a few windows displaying the outside world, and a speaker/stereo system perfect for blasting the music around the room.

19. Do you have kids? If not, do you want them someday?: No kids atm, but I love working with them! Yes, I’d like kids someday~.

20. What was your favorite book as a child?: I read many books as a wee child. But one book I can clearly remember is Stellaluna. It’s an adorable story about a bat who discovers who she truly is thanks to both her adoptive and biological families (The former being a family of birds and the latter being a family of bats.).

21. Name one thing you just don’t get what all the hype is about: Fidget spinners. I’m still seeing people freak out about those things. Didn’t the trend die a month or two ago?

22. Name one thing that you think is tragically underrated: Myspace. *evil laughs despite the fact that I never had a Myspace account* :P Sorry I couldn’t think of anything else bahaha~

23. If you had to be glued to a person for a month, real or fictional (who you have never met), who would you choose?: I mean, I’ve never met MYSME’s 707 IRL, so I’ll stick with him And we can visit his space station, haha~ ^-^

24. What’s something you’d like the chance to do someday?: Act in a theatrical production. I haven’t done theatre in a year and I already miss it. T.T

25. Do you typically speak your mind when you have a controversial opinion? Or do generally prefer to not rock the boat?: I’ll definitely speak my mind if I’m well-versed in the topic and if I’m passionate about it. If I want to present a controversial opinion, I have to be sure that I can articulate my POV eloquently and professionally. I’m also more than willing to listen to the other side, as long as they fully know what they’re talking about (Frankly, I will not take any B.S. if I suspect B.S.).

26. What’s the dumbest fad you’ve been caught up in?: I’m blanking... Yeah, IDK, but I’m pretty sure I got caught up in some kind of dumb fad back in middle school. *shivers b/c I don’t want to relive those years*

27. What’s something you thought was cool as a kid/adolescent, but now cringe at yourself for?: When I was younger (like elementary/middle school-age), I dreamed of becoming a singer. In order to accomplish that dream, I joined my school and church choirs: however, that turned out to be a pretty toxic experience since almost everyone I was singing with treated every single practice and performance as a singing competition. Like, c’mon you guys: we aren’t on Glee. -.-’

28. What’s a trait you consider to be very admirable?: Honesty: I admire people who are genuine and true.

29. Is there a particular kind of item people always tend to give you as gifts? (For instance, people always get you things with ducks on them because you like ducks, etc.): Books (people know I’m a huge bookworm), clothes (b/c I’m usually too lazy/don’t have time to shop for my own clothes, LOLOL), stuffed animals (I’m a child at heart and I love cuddly & cute things), sweets (especially chocolate).

30. Do you speak multiple languages? Which ones?: 

English is my mother tongue.

I apparently used to speak Tagalog fluently when I was very young, but then I stopped speaking that language once I started preschool; however, I’ve picked up some terms over the years, so I can sort of dissect my parents’ conversations w/ the other adults (”Yes, Mom, I knew that you were talking about my uni stuff with Tita *insert name here*.” :P), plus I’m going to take a Tagalog 101 class in Autumn Quarter, so I’ll (hopefully) learn how to say complete sentences instead of just the names of foods, holidays, and Filipino Folk Dances. xD

I learned Spanish throughout my high school career, so I’m okay in that department even though I haven’t practiced speaking/listening/writing in that language recently. I’m still fluent enough to help my sisters with their Spanish homework, so that’s something. :P

I tried learning some French, Japanese, and Korean through various language learning apps, but to no avail.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

31. Would you rather live in the big city or the countryside?: Can I choose like a little town instead? Big city: the countryside would be MUCH too quiet for me (Plus I’d be much too tempted to run atop every hill Sound of Music style and start singing at the top of my lungs - which would probably annoy a lot of people, myself included. :P).

32. Has there ever been something you were certain you’d hate, but ended up loving?: Giles Christophe a.k.a my Midnight Cinderella bias. Ironic, huh? xD <3 Also Jumin Han from MYSME. :P

33. Do you mind being the center of attention, or do you prefer the spotlight to be on someone else?: I will hide from the spotlight like I’m a friggin vampire unless there’s a damn good reason for me to be under it.

34. Favorite holiday?: CHRISTMAS!!!

35. Are you a more go-with-the-flow type of person, or do you need to have things planned meticulously?: If I’m in charge of scheduling something, then I MUST have everything carefully planned. If I’m leaving the scheduling to someone else, then I’ll just go with the flow~.

36. Is there something you loved so much you wish you could forget it and experience it all over again? (A tv show, book, series–anything.): My first trip to Hawaii: I’d love to explore the islands and swim in its oceans again.

37. What hobbies do you have?: Reading, writing, singing, dancing, listening to music, playing the guitar or ukulele, checking social media (JKJK :P), drawing/arts & crafts (If I’m EXTREMELY bored), playing video games, watching TV/YouTube, exploring places both old and new Yeah, I do too many things, haha~

38. If you could have a superpower, but it was only mildly useful, what ability would you want to have?: “Mildly useful?” (O.o) I guess the ability to learn things VERY quickly - like, master an activity on the first try. I actually have a friend with that ability, which has allowed him to almost effortlessly master almost every sport he’s ever learned: he’s basically a superhuman and I admire and envy him for his “superpower.” :P <3

39. Something people are always surprised to learn about you: My age: people think that I’m much younger than I actually am, mostly because of my shorter-than-average height and my baby face. I’m basically an adult stuck in a teenager’s body. xD

40. Something that took you way too long to figure out: How to apply the Unit Circle to various math problems eff you precalculus and calculus never again ugggghhhhh.

41. Worst injury you’ve had?: My broken heart (JKJK, sort of. :P) I got burned by the metal tip of a very hot glue gun. Thanks to that, I have a tiny scar on my upper right arm.

42. Any morbid fascinations?: Does watching playthroughs of horror games through YouTube count?

43. Describe your sense of humor: Clever/witty, sarcastic, sassy. Oftentimes unintentional: jokes will usually come to me naturally through conversation. If we’re close, plenty of embarrassing stories, inside jokes, and horrible puns will be part of our daily doses of humor.

44. If you had to be born in another era/place, which would you choose?: I’d want to be born in Canada, mostly because I’ve got a lot of family living up there, plus I’d love to live in a place that isn’t completely messed up rn. #SorryNotSorryAmerica *crosses to the Canadian border like a badass*

45. Something you are irredeemably bad at: LOL, WHAT’S A SPORT? :b

46. Something that sucked but you’re glad you went through: Freshman year of high school. I first moved to my new home that year, so being the new kid sucked for a while, but I eventually made some friends and found more opportunities to grow as a person (through writing and theatre).

47. Would you rather have a really godawful ugly tattoo in a place that is only slightly inconvenient to conceal with clothing (upper arm, thigh, etc.), or the coolest, most beautiful tattoo ever in the middle of your face? (Neither tattoo can be removed or concealed with makeup, and the ugly tattoo will deeply offend anyone who sees it.): Ugly tat. At least I’d have a place to hide it. xD

48. Are you more of an optimist or a pessimist?: Realist. Leaning on the pessimist side. However, I do try to believe that things will get better, that there’ll be more bigger and better opportunities out there, etc. etc.

49. What would be the most flattering compliment someone could give you?: That I’m a hardworking and genuine person. Then again, I don’t do well compliments anyway: I’ll definitely blush and stutter and try to hide behind some kind of an object while complimenting you back. xD <3

50. Something you feel people often misunderstand about you: I’m often quiet and reserved when I’m meeting new people. Some may think I’m naturally calm and composed, others take it as slightly intimidating. But I’m just quiet because I’m awkward, plus I don’t usually start conversations. :b

Tagging: @princessofwysteria, @sukio-sakamaki, @allforthecrown, @o0w0o, @widzzicles, @rizosrojizos, and anyone who wants to do this! (I would’ve tagged more peeps, but I didn’t know if they had been tagged already. So please join in if you haven’t done this already~.). ^-^ <3

[ash818]

could you write a little tiny(or super long-i dont mind) ficlet about one of Jon and Tish's snug harbor kinda sorta dates from before they started dating. maybe a little funny one or maybe one of them does something that makes the other fall a little harder.. prettyy please??

Tish learned to dance standing on Papa’s shoes.

On nights when he and Maman shared a bottle of wine with dinner, Maman would tug him to his feet and command the speaker, “Jouez-nous Louis Prima, s’il vous plaît!” She grinned at Papa and twined his arm around her waist. “Ce soir, nous avons besoin de Louis, ne penses-tu pas?”

Playful as he was in those days, Papa dipped her dramatically and then started to spin her across the floor. Tish knelt backwards in her chair to watch, until, laughing, Maman invited her to cut in.

“No shoes, no shoes!” Papa protested, because he knew little Laetitia thought he sounded funnier in English. “Take them off before you stand on me.”

Giggling, she plopped onto the floor and unbuckled her scuffed pink sandals.

“All right,” Papa said when she stepped barefoot onto his loafers and took his hands. “You know how to be Ginger Rogers?”

She shook her head.

“You do everything I do, but backwards. And here we go!”

There were other nights when Maman finished that bottle alone, and after she died there was no more dancing. But Louis Prima was no less real for that.

Tish has not thought of it in years.

Between sets at Snug Harbor, Jonathan Queen sinks stiffly onto the bench seat along the wall and stretches out his bad leg. One second he grimaces in pain, and the next he smiles up at her. “So where’d you learn to do this?”

“Dance?” She takes a seat next to him, because it seems more polite than hovering. “I did theater in high school, and you learn all kinds of things for shows. Cinderella is the reason I can waltz.”

“You can waltz?” He looks her over in a way she’s not sure she likes, and he goes back to rolling his ankle. “Of course you can waltz.”

Tish draws herself up to take offense, but then she realizes that the smirk is really more of a fond smile. Instead she says, “Are you in pain?”

“It’s just muscle cramps.” He props his ankle on his knee, digs his fingers into his calf, and starts working his way down toward his Achilles’ tendon. “They rub right out.”

She feels a sudden and inexplicable urge to do it for him, so strong that she actually leans forward. Then reality reasserts itself, and she freezes at the edge of the bench seat.

There is nothing strange or inappropriate about wanting to take care of him. He has risked his life protecting her more than once, and all she has given him in return are a few mugs of sweet steamed milk. It would absolutely be strange and inappropriate to kneel at his feet on the dirty barroom floor and work her hands up his calf. Dear Lord, please don’t let him see her burning cheeks in the dim light.

“Time for their next set,” Jon says, eyes on the band as they take the stage again. “You want to go again?”

After two songs, it is clear that the muscle cramps have not rubbed right out. His rhythm falters, and though it would probably be unnoticeable to a casual observer, Tish nearly falls out of step with him. Compensating for an injury is hard on the rest of the body; in the brief moment that her arm loops around him for an open position, she can feel the sweat at the small of his back.

“I’m a little bored with this song, to be honest,” she says, the next time he pulls her into closed. “Do you mind if we sit down for a bit?”

“Sure. You want another drink?”

“I think I would. But excuse me for a minute first.”

In the restroom mirror, she dabs sweat from her neck and pins a few loose curls back into place.

When she suggested dancing as physical therapy, she did not think it through much farther than, “We’ll spend an hour goofing off to innocent sixties pop.” She failed to imagine the breadth of Jon’s hand on her shoulder blade. She did not anticipate the smell of his soap or the roughness of his fingers. She swallowed hard the first time she stepped in close and found herself eye level with his buttons.

He once collapsed from blood loss right into her arms, and her attempt to catch him quickly devolved into a controlled descent to the floor. She should have remembered his sheer size, at least.

She pulls a tube of lipstick from the pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt, and she reapplies. War paint, as Jon called it. British Red always steadies her nerves.

She has danced with co-stars who grabbed her by the inner thighs for lifts, or who bent her back dramatically for stage kisses. There is really no need to be so adolescent about Jon Queen’s calluses.

She returns to find him flirting unsubtly with the older woman on the barstool next to him, who seems more amused than interested. As Tish comes within earshot, the woman snorts into a laugh too undignified to be anything but genuine.

Jon seems to count that as a win by itself - just charming someone for a few minutes. It’s an interesting side of him. Brash, loudmouthed Jonathan Queen has at least some small part of him that looks very young and very earnest and says, “Like me, like me, like me.”

“Oh, there you are,” he says, pulling out the barstool for her. “Morgan, this is my friend Tish.”

“Hey, there,” Morgan says with a broad, knowing sort of smile. “I was just telling him he should think about letting you lead. You might teach him a thing or two.”

It is a familiar joke. The conversation will go flat as day-old Coke if Tish tries to explain that leading and following are very different skill sets, that she can’t break with her left foot anyway, and that she wouldn’t have the first idea what to do with a Jon prepared to move on her say-so. Instead she says, “What makes you think I haven’t been?”

Morgan pats Jon on the shoulder. “Oh, you watch yourself with this one, honey.” She gets to her feet, and she raises her drink to someone across the room. “It was nice to meet y’all. Take care.”

Tish takes the seat Jon saved for her, where a beautiful cocktail already stands gleaming with condensation. A candied orange slice floats in it, dusted with cinnamon. She has had two already, and this one is likely to make her silly.

“I stole a few sips,” Jon confesses. “It was just as good as it looked.”

It is the kind of thing he does to his sister - assuming the right to drink from her glass and eat from her plate. Tish gestures to the Collins glass in his hand, bristling with mint. “Then let me try. Fair is fair.”

It is what Abby would say.

Jon looks prepared to laugh when Tish takes a sip, so she braces herself for something bitter and horrible. Instead - “I can’t even taste the alcohol.”

“That’s because there is none,” he says, taking it back. “I’m driving you home, remember?”

This is a perfectly sensible answer, and there is no reason to melt over it. He has every incentive to drive sober regardless of whether she is in the car with him, and this bare minimum of adult responsibility is not for her benefit.

“It was my father who taught me to follow a lead,” she says before she can stop herself. “As soon as I was tall enough.”

Jon’s expression freezes, and then he very deliberately shifts toward her on his barstool. “It’s, um. It’s hard to picture him doing that.”

It is not difficult to imagine, had events played out two degrees off-angle from their actual course, that Jon might have shot Papa. It is not difficult to imagine taking him dancing and wanting to rub his sore muscles anyway. “I don’t mean to convince you that he was a good man, but he wasn’t always… what he became. There was a time before Maman died when he could be very - there was a time when he let me dance standing on his shoes.”

Jon nods for her to go on, though he cannot quite smooth away his opinion of Abel Cuvier. His jaw, his fist - something always clenches resentfully when Papa is mentioned.

“I think he liked the idea that I might grow up to be a dancer. He was always generous about lessons and shoes and costumes, and the one recital he was able to attend was some of the most lavish praise I ever heard from him.”

The line between Jon’s eyebrows softens. “Yeah? What’d he say?”

Maman beamed in the front seat on the way home, just listening to Papa’s glowing review. “He called me a little swan, and he couldn’t wait to see me en pointe.”

“With the toe shoes, you mean?”

Tish nods. “He didn’t get his wish, in the end.”

“What happened?”

How to put this delicately? “Oh, adolescence. It became pretty clear that I was not going to have the ideal ballet body type.” She hesitates, and then she tells him the other, more honest half of that story. “I might have stuck with it anyway, but then Maman died, and I lost interest.”

The line between Jon’s eyebrows has reappeared and deepened, but she feels no judgment in it this time.  “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” she says, so quietly that the band must drown it out.

“If it’s any consolation, random strangers in bars still think you’re hot shit,” Jon goes on. “That woman who was here a minute ago asked me if you dance professionally.”

Tish laughs. “No, she didn’t.”

“Swear to God.”

“Then she must not have seen many professional dancers.” But she can feel herself glow with the compliment, so she lifts her glass to hide a smile in another sip.

No one would describe Jon as sensitive, but it is surprisingly easy to tell him things. She has trusted him with her safety since the mask came off, and now, time and again, in small ways, she finds she can trust him with the things that are most difficult to explain. If she were just a little drunker, she might even tell him that sometimes she misses Papa.

“Hey, are you hungry?” Jon says, pushing his half-empty glass away. “I don’t mean for bar food. You want to go to Sukho Thai?”

They ate dinner at his parents’ house just a couple hours ago, but if he needs another meal to satisfy his staggering caloric requirements, she’s happy to tag along. “I could be in the mood for a spring roll.”

Somewhere in the middle of sipping jasmine tea and watching Jon ruthlessly hunt down a stray noodle, it occurs to Tish that this entire evening - drinks, dancing, dinner - strongly resembles a date. Had Jon flirted with her instead of a stranger on the barstool next to him, then there would be no other interpretation.

“Best physical therapy ever,” Jon announces, leaning back in his chair. “I’m going to fire that torture technician with the exercise ball.”

Tish casts her eyes down and sets her teacup aside. Had this been a date, it would be in her all-time top five.

“You all right?”

“One drink too many,” she says quietly. “I think they’re catching up to me.”

He chuckles and pushes his plate toward her. “All right, lightweight. Have some carbs and finish that water.” And he starts glancing around for the server.

When Jon drops her off in front of her apartment building a little after midnight, she leans across the center console to kiss his cheek. “Thank you so much.”

His smile looks a little bemused. “Yeah, of course. You want to do this again next Friday? It’s Eighties Night.”

No, she does not want to go on not-a-date with Jonathan Queen again in a week. Yes, she wants him to hold her comfortably in closed position again, and she wants his hands to move her through a spin, and she wants him to smile at her just like this. Her imagination shies away from what comes after that.

Nothing needs to come after that. After all, it is only dancing.

“Next Friday,” she agrees.

She glances back on her way to her front door, and she catches a glimpse of him rubbing absently at her lipstick print on his cheek.