#also this is why i will always hold fanfic in high regard

[chnqin]

I just need people to know that I am currently about 2/3 of the way through No Paths are Bound by @cataclysmicevie and I am being totally normal about it, it is not consuming my every waking thought, I am not wishing it was longer than 1,158,737 words because I'll probably only have about a week's worth of reading left and I have separation anxiety issues. I am fine. very normal.

[sjax001]

My (not-so-pleasant)version of the Lion and Guilliman's reunion

This idea emerged during a conversation with a friend, and because of my reluctance to laboriously craft it into a fanfic, I presented it in this form:

Guilliman heard numerous rumors about the Lion's return, but he struggled to believe it. Even before he entered the stasis field, he had already believed that the Lion was dead. Yet, he wanted the rumors to be true because of his overwhelming desperation for a brother's companionship.

So, he once again captured a Tzeentch daemon and interrogated it，seeking truth about the Lion's return.

The Tzeentch daemon affirmed that the Lion had indeed returned, untainted by Chaos. However, before Guilliman could find solace in this revelation, the daemon continued.

"He holds two distinct opinions of you, and you can guess which one is true.

The first: He is immensely relieved to learn that you are still alive and believes he is no longer alone.

The second: He thought he should have dealt with you and asked why could it not have been you who fell."

The daemon pulled a sly maneuver, withholding context about the Lion's words. It also conveniently changed the Lion's true meanings, "why could it not have been you who fell instead of Sanguinius," which Guilliman might have concurred with, and it also omitted that the Lion had also wished he had died in Sanguinius' place.

Guilliman was quick to conclude that only the second statement held truth. Given his understanding of the Lion, he reasoned that the Lion had never held him in high regard and was very likely upset with him.The Lion may believe he should be held accountable for the current state of the Imperium.So it's logical that the Lion wanted him dead.

In theory, Guilliman should have accepted this reality calmly, but he found himself unable to do so.

Imagine you awaken in a nightmarish world, utterly alone, burdened with the responsibility of saving everyone, yet no one could save you in return. Your father appears mad and treats you like a tool, and you lack a confidant to confide in. Amidst the ceaseless toil and isolation, a glimmer of hope emerges when you hear that one of your brothers has returned.You two weren't close before, but you've been alone for too long. You're so exhausted and you want to talk to someone. Despite past misunderstandings and disputes, he could be the sole person who comprehends your solitude and shares your burden.

But this brother, the only person in the world you can rely on and trust,thinks you're better off dead.

Thus Guilliman crumbled.He had a will as unyielding as steel and rock, but he had already pushed himself to the brink. And this was the straw that broke the camel's back.He could have continued to endure all the loneliness and despair, had the Lion not denied the value of all his effort and his life with a single sentence.

Meanwhile, the Lion was making preparations for his impending reunion with Guilliman. During his time with his sons, he felt that he should understand Guilliman's perspective beforehand. He turned to Azrael, inquiring if Guilliman had ever spoken about him. He was told by Azrael that when Indomitus Crusade fleet delivered primaris reinforcements to the Rock,Guilliman admitted to Azrael that he had always admired the Lion. Despite not sharing a particularly close bond, the Lion had always been the one Guilliman looked up to among all their brothers. This left the Lion both moved and reassured.

Therefore, when the Lion and Guilliman finally met again, the Lion tried to express his brotherly feelings of reunion, but Guilliman reacted with extreme indifference and restraint. The Lion was puzzled and annoyed by this and suspected that Guilliman thought he was trying to usurp power. The misunderstanding between them deepened.

Eventually, the Lion could bear it no longer. He used his forestwalk ability to reach the Honor of Macragge and wanted to have a sincere conversation with his brother. However, when Guilliman spotted him, he misconstrued the lion's intentions, believing that the lion had come to assassinate him. He instinctively raised the flaming sword in "self-defense." When the lion attempted to clarify that he had no such intentions, Guilliman questioned him, "Aren't you the one who wished I were dead?" The lion was speechless, as he had indeed uttered those words. A confrontation between the two ensued, but Guilliman eventually abandoned the fight midway due to overwhelming heartbreak.

This is the very first time when Lion witnessed Guilliman shedding tears. Even after the siege of Terra, when all were in mourning, Guilliman had immediately embarked on the task of reorganization and reconstruction.At that time,he was so driven that he seemed almost insensitive and indifferent.So all his brothers, including the lion, thought he's cold or strong enough to never be swayed by emotion.

Now,Lion realized that Guilliman even remained oblivious to his own tears,still convinced that he sounded resolute and intimidating to Lion.Suddenly, the Lion comprehended the relentless battle Guilliman had waged against despair,but he couldn't hold on any longer.And it's because of Lion.

I haven't figured out how this is supposed to end.My hope is for them to reconcile sincerely. However, I'm uncertain about how the Lion could offer solace to Guilliman and gain his trust again.Even he had changed a lot,I still think he is not good at comforting...and Roboute was devastated.

Any ideas ?

[rhaenin-time]

I find it very disturbing how in every Team Green fanfic, Rhaenyra is constantly written as this sex-crazed maniac without a brain, and her sons are all temperamental little monsters hinted to be mad and Ramsay wannabes. Oh, and looking back on every Team Neutral fanfic I've read, Alicent is still the victim, batting her teary puppy dog eyes, and Rhaenyra is still the wicked witch who is spoiled. At the end of the story, Aegon or Aemond is crowned king, while Rhaenyra's sons are either disgraced, sent to the Wall, or worse. HOTD fanfics that claim to be Team Neutral but are still Green sympathetic are something else :/

The problem is that in order to position yourself as "Team Neutral," you kind of need to deny the fact that the Dance was about:

The battle of two ideologies (oath vs. opportunism) in the absence of codified law and a "higher authority." Where the side that claims 'tradition' can more accurately be described as weaponizing certain 'traditions' and biases for opportunism. A battle that concludes with the clear message of, that while oath and honour might not always be enough, that you need to be careful and cannot assume everyone will act under that worldview, that it's the understandings we make between each other that ultimately hold society together.

Patriarchy (and unjust systems in general) punish everyone within them. You're punished for cooperating, and you're especially punished for pushing back. And women like Rhaenyra have to push back, else they'd never see power. But it's impossible for them to push back in every regard because, unless they decide to go Fire and Blood and be labelled a tyrant, they are ultimately still subject to that system. And they'll be punished for any move they make. It's not that "no one is worthy of the throne." It's that the system itself is unworthy. And those are not the same thing.

The problem is, when you examine the story with those two themes in mind, the Blacks are more in the right. GRRM makes it clear they're more in the right. That doesn't mean it isn't complicated. That doesn't mean the underlying system isn't wrong. But there's still a clearly "better" position. It's also clear that Rhaenyra is punished by the unjust system far more than her brothers are, and far more than Alicent is — because Alicent (especially show!Alicent) often makes her own prison.

So the only way to be "Team Neutral," the only way to view it as a conflict where "both sides are in the wrong," is to erase those two very essential themes. And obviously, that's going to be to the detriment of the side that occupies the "high ground" in those themes.

And that's why you get these weird narratives that often play into the very injustices, the very attitudes that the story condemns. Once you erase that condemnation, it's very easy, too easy, to start contradicting it. Because forms of those injustices persist to this day, and they're all too easy to embrace.

[satorisa]

To Infinity, Forever

Rating: T Summary: Detailed herein is the story of Dark Mousy’s one and only posthumous heist in which he, equipped only with a love that refuses to die, tries to steal a love that will continue to grow today, tomorrow, and in the future beyond. Ad infinitum. Alternate Reading: AO3

Inspired by a tumblr post (that I can no longer find but do have a screenshot of) created by @riewritten that is transcribed as follows:

"why am I thinking of a potential hurt/comfort and tooth-rotting fluff fanfic where grown up satoshi and risa is in an established relationship

but since satoshi can still remember dark, as well as risa's unwavering love for him way back, he still couldn't come to terms with the fact that the risa right now actually loves him to the core

then there comes subtle gestures from risa implying that 'the me right now will be choosing you under any circumstances, no matter what. that'd shake satoshi to the core bc 'does she have any idea of my current concerns or is she just doing this subconsciously'

then later on, satoshi realizes that the 14 y/o risa already hidden in her deepest depths of consciousness - the one who had this love for dark but wasnt allowed to remember it - was also trying to assure him somehow that she also chooses him this time around, and that he has nothing to worry about but stay with her."

Hope you enjoy, dear~

Their reunion at that group date in New York City could only be described as serendipity.

After Dark’s disappearance, Risa and Satoshi’s relationship never developed beyond being friends of friends; they naturally went their separate ways after graduating from high school. And yet they applied for grad school in the same city: a decision that landed them both mere kilometers from each other where, on top of their professional obligations, Risa dated a slew of terrible guys while Satoshi continued to turn down anyone interested in him.

Risa’s friends urged her to go on a group date to potentially break her streak of awful dates and ex-boyfriends, and Satoshi’s friends urged him to go just to humor them this once. The two of them gave in, eventually, and were surprised to see each other on what they thought would be yet another forgettable evening.

They exchanged their new contact information after the mixer, finding comfort in knowing someone from home, someone from before their life in New York City, amongst the sea of people. At their first meeting, fueled by a yearning for familiarity in a foreign land, they learned that they enjoyed each other’s company. And, as they spent more time together, Risa began to fall for Satoshi’s kindness after the parade of garbage men in her life (and the fact that he had become more toned since their high school graduation—oh mama), and Satoshi began to fall for Risa’s thoughtfulness regarding his feelings and boundaries that those who previously tried to pursue him lacked (and the fact that she had, somehow, only gotten prettier since their high school graduation—my word).

It took a visit to the MET, and unconsciously holding each other’s hand while admiring Claude Monet’s Bridge over a Pond of Water Lilies, for them to begin dating.

And, surprisingly, their relationship flourished. They squabbled every once in a while, as usual in a relationship, but they always made up before retiring for the day. Despite their busy schedules, with her pursuing a PhD in East Asian Studies and him pursuing a PhD in History of Art and Archaeology, they carved time for each other, whether it was working on their own thing at a coffee shop or crying in the bathroom at four in the morning because grad school can go suck its own dick.

But there was one thing that Risa, unconsciously, would always remind Satoshi of:

The lingering remnants of Dark Mousy.

…

He didn’t think much about Risa’s obsession with all things Korean; after the Hallyu boom, such fascination became the norm. She never forced him to engage with it, but he knew that she loved indulging in the overly-produced music scene or modern rom-coms with increasingly ridiculous premises in the peripheries of their shared experiences.

One time, however, he had come over to her place, wanting her company while he read through some research papers, before they had dinner that evening. He arrived at her apartment, backpack slung over his shoulder, to hear music blasting from her TV.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Hey,” he returned, taking off his shoes once he stepped inside.

“I’m cleaning up right now, so it’s gonna be a little noisy. Do you mind?”

Satoshi motioned towards his bag. “I’ve got my headphones if I need them.”

“Just to block out the noise?”

“Just to block out the noise.”

She shook her head with a smile. “Just use earplugs, you weirdo.”

He came into the living room and sat down at her coffee table, placing his bag on the floor next to him. Satoshi glanced at the men dancing on the TV, spotting someone who looked nearly identical to Dark Mousy, before Risa turned it off.

His heart fell.

“You didn’t have to turn it off,” he told her, hoping that vocalizing the sensible reaction to the current situation would calm him.

“Nah.” She motioned towards the countertop. “I have headphones, too. And I use them, yanno, like normal people. To listen to music.”

“Whatever.”

She laughed, returning to the kitchen while he got out his laptop. He watched Risa wash the dishes while it booted up.

“Who were they?” he asked.

“The group I was listening to earlier?”

“Yeah.”

Risa lit up, putting down the mug and sponge in her hands, before rushing towards him. She knelt beside him with her phone in hand, eager to share this with her boyfriend.

“They’re this group called ‘Black Wings!’” she said. “They just debuted this year and, oh my god, they’re so good.”

“You have a bias?”

“Of course! Hold on.” She tilted her phone back towards her, fingers quickly moving before showing Satoshi the screen again. “This is him!”

He looked almost exactly like Dark with the purple-black hair, the mullet-esque haircut uncommon in the K-pop realm, and those chiseled facial features. Somehow, despite the time that had passed and the memories that she had lost, Risa was still holding onto some semblance of her first love. Satoshi knew, logically, that she most certainly loved him more than that accursed phantom thief, but Risa fawning over this uncanny look-a-like disturbed him.

“You like guys like that?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “Doesn’t help that most of them are assholes, though.”

“Yet somehow you ended up dating someone with the aesthetic of a college professor.”

She kissed him on the cheek before hopping back up and returning to the sink. “Because you’re the shining light in the darkness of my dating life. And you’re just as hot, if not hotter, than them! We could totally give you a makeover and—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Boo! You’re no fun.”

…

The next time she was unconsciously reminded of Dark Mousy was on their way to a Broadway show. They passed through Times Square so Risa could indulge in the noisy tourist attraction, taking photos of them that she would post on social media later that evening.

They were holding hands the whole time, partly because it was cold, partly because Satoshi didn’t want to lose her in the crowd, and partly because Risa loved holding hand. But, while he was engrossed in the ads on the screens surrounding them, he felt her grip slack.

Something entranced her.

He followed her gaze to see someone who vaguely resembled Dark Mousy chatting with someone who vaguely resembled Krad, and he could only respond to such a mocking sight with a bitter laugh. Risa was too focused to notice Satoshi’s discomfort.

It took a crying child to snap her out of it.

She then began to march towards Broadway, tugging him along while talking about her excitement for the show. He squeezed her hand, partly because it was cold, partly because Satoshi didn’t want to lose her in the crowd, partly because Risa loved holding his hand, and partly because he was terrified that he wouldn’t be able to overcome Dark’s imprint on her.

…

Satoshi began to have nightmares of him, Risa, and Dark.

Each one started differently, taking place in a myriad of settings, before converging to the same ending: Dark and Risa, holding hands with their backs towards him, as they disappeared from his line of sight.

Goddammit.

…

They encountered another doppelganger at the restaurant they ate at for their one-year anniversary. Their waiter came by, flashing Risa a stunning smile while he poured their wine into crystal flutes. She wasn’t as distracted as she was in Times Square because they had food and wine to reel her back in, but her eyes would always trail towards the waiter in the lulls of their conversation, punctuated by a contented sigh before she jumped back in with the same energy as before.

The look in her eyes haunted him on the way back to his apartment, as he made love to her, as she slept cuddled up next to him. Satoshi knew he didn’t have to compete with a first love that no longer existed in her life, in all the senses, and that it was hard to override the precedent set by said first love, but that niggling fear that Risa was only using him to soothe that phantom pain only grew louder each time he noticed.

He was far from Risa’s type both then and now. They only began dating because of sheer luck and impeccable timing. Any moment sooner, any moment later, and he knew that this serendipitous meeting would’ve never happened.

Slipping out of bed, he went outside for a smoke.

How pathetic was he for something like this to eat him up?

…

Despite Satoshi’s kindness and genuine empathy for the world around him, he was surprisingly closed off. While Risa learned a lot about him before he asked her out, he never divulged anything particularly personal. He had anecdotes and advice for anything and everything, but it was rare for him to share any thoughts or emotions about how it related to him.

He had a way to foster a sense of closeness with someone despite being so distant.

And Risa was excited to see how dating him would change that.

Satoshi’s true thoughts and emotions rarely surfaced in their day-to-day. Their daily interactions had clear indicators of their intimate relationship, such as their playful banters or their unconscious physical touches, but he maintained that casual familiarity while the sun was up.

She only became privy to his inner world during either intimate conversations, brought upon by late-night fatigue, drunken courage, or the general afterglow of sex, or crises in both his personal and professional lives. With everything she gleaned, she learned how to accommodate, to challenge, to adapt to him, just as he did to her, and she believed that their stark differences in most everything in their lives were but a footnote to how committed they were to each other.

Which is how she noticed when that distance began to return to their relationship.

She remembered the night in his apartment after their one-year anniversary dinner. He left the bed in the middle of the night and, despite his best efforts, returned smelling faintly of tobacco.

He only ever smoked when something bothered him.

It was a bad habit he picked up while working in Japan before coming stateside. That and heavy drinking.

She could usually pinpoint the reason why he would need a smoke: unable to get funding for his department, his PI rejecting this dissertation topic for the umpteenth time, the time he and Risa nearly broke up and so on. But she didn’t know what was bothering him this time.

And she knew that she couldn’t force it out of him either. He only shared his struggles with her when he was ready to, on his own terms, and never before that unless it was an extremely heated conversation.

So, when he returned to the bed, she wrapped her arms around him.

“I love you,” she lazily whispered.

“…I love you, too.”

And he hugged her, tighter than usual, before they drifted back to sleep.

…

Risa had a bad habit of zoning out around people. So many thoughts raced through her mind, both relevant and irrelevant to the conversations at hand, that she needed a pause to make sense of them before she could speak again. Either that or an attractive guy rendered her speechless.

Thankfully, it was a habit she mostly fell out of once she began to date Satoshi, but she still spaced out whenever she saw men that checked off features from an extremely specific list. They were always tall and lean, sporting a charismatic smile (if she saw it) and long, dark hair. For whatever reason, this specific combination always made her feel nostalgic yet wistful, and, oddly enough, conjured an image of black, feathered wings in her mind.

Her friends joked around about her getting tired of Satoshi whenever a guy caught her attention while they were out. And, while Satoshi didn’t seem to mind it all at first, asking if she had spotted a bias look-a-like or someone from the K-pop groups she followed, she noticed how his face began to fall in her peripheries whenever she’d snap out of it.

And then it happened during what was supposed to be a fun trip to the Strand.

Risa needed to stock up on some stationary while Satoshi wanted to browse the selection, hoping to add a couple of books to his ever-growing library. Pleased with the journals and pen she found, she weaved through the shelves to find Satoshi. She eventually spotted him with his nose in a book.

But she also saw someone who matched that dangerously specific set of criteria right behind Satoshi.

The image of black wings flashed in her mind, and those confusing feelings washed over her. And when she was able to break out of it, reminding herself that her boyfriend was a bookshelf away, she met Satoshi’s gaze.

He stood there, petrified, book still open in his hands. His eyes were wide, and his face was paler than usual.

Risa trudged through the quagmire of guilt as she scurried towards him, pulling him into an embrace. She dug her face into his chest, hearing his heartbeat, smelling the detergent and cologne on his clothes. He returned her hug as he rubbed her back with his free hand.

“Are you alright?” she whispered.

“I am,” he answered, his voice rumbling through her head. “Did you see another guy who looked like your bias?”

“He didn’t look like my bias,” she replied. “There’s just…something about the way he looked.”

“Because he’s your type?”

“Well, yes but…” She looked up at him. “I’m sorry. You probably hate it, don’t you?”

He shot her a smile to reassure her, but she could tell it was forced. “It’s not that I hate it. It’s a lot more complicated than that. Probably just as complicated as it is for you, right?”

She always wondered how he just knew things like this. How, even when they were experiencing any form of disconnect, he was always able to tie them back together. Validating her feelings when she couldn’t validate his. Seeing through whatever act she had put on that day because he didn’t want her to hide her true feelings from him, positive or not.

Risa nuzzled her head back into his chest. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

And while she knew that he did, she heard the trepidation in his voice.

…

Both Risa and Satoshi began to spend more time at the other’s place than in their own apartments, alternating depending on their schedules that week. They were learning how to spend longer periods of time with each other, adapting to their partner’s living style, before they took the plunge into living together.

(It was something they wanted to rush into considering the price of rent in New York City, but they both knew they needed to acclimate to living together first. As appealing as the idea of cheaper rent was, they wanted to ensure that their domestic disagreements wouldn’t break their relationship.)

And so Risa had become acquainted to the silence in Satoshi’s apartment that amplified the noises of the city. And Satoshi had adapted to the constant stream of K-pop from Risa’s television.

Risa turned it on the moment she woke up, humming to the songs as she went about her business, and only turned it off before she had to leave or go to bed. She loved having it on as background noise and, even after Satoshi began to spend more time over at her apartment, she still kept it on because her boyfriend tended to keep to himself.

Somehow, she managed to get him to tolerate most of the music that she had on. She couldn’t sway him to liking visuals of their music videos, the looks of the idol members, or the quality of their choreography, but he came around to enjoying how the music sounded even if he didn’t understand it.

However, while he mostly blocked out the television whenever he was ever in the living room, she noticed that he would always watch Black Wing’s music videos. He knew immediately which songs were theirs due to the frequency that she played them, but he would always, for the three to five minutes they were on, give the television his undivided attention before returning to whatever he was doing.

And, after the incident at the Strand, she found it concerning.

The day after their date, she was at home doing chores while Satoshi worked on his research at the low table with printed copies of papers and textbooks, highlighted and annotated, radiating from where he sat. He had gotten into the habit of not using his headphones anymore, in case Risa had something to tell him, and his head had shot up immediately once Black Wings was on.

She stopped what she was doing before sitting down on the sofa behind him.

“Do you like them?” Risa asked.

“Not really.”

“But you’re always watching their videos.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re doing it right now.”

He turned around to look at her, and she prepared herself for a smirk and a quip. All Satoshi did, however, was meet her gaze.

“Why do you like Bam out of all of them?”

“Because he’s hot. And my type.”

Satoshi blinked. She expected him to take her answer at face-value before turning back around, but he didn’t. He kept her gaze, almost silently pleading for something.

But what did he want?

“Um, do you actually want to know why?”

“You like him for other reasons?”

Risa nodded as the group’s harmonized vocals filled her living room. “Like he’s super talented, too, right? And there’s just something about his charismatic personality that shines whenever the group’s on reality TV. But, hm, how do I describe this?

“Every time I look at him, I start to feel things. Like, I get giddy, but I also want to cry? And, for whatever reason, I start to think of black wings. Not the group of Black Wings, but an actual pair of black wings, feathered and all. So whenever I see guys that remind of Bam, all that just washes over me?” She sighed. “I don’t know; it’s weird.”

The song ended.

And the expression on Satoshi’s face broke her heart.

He turned around quickly before shutting his laptop. Satoshi shot up.

“I need some time to myself,” he muttered before rushing out the door, slamming it behind him.

And she sat there, staring at where he just was, while another upbeat song played from her television.

…

Satoshi returned later that evening to pick up his things before leaving again, citing some excuse about something coming up. She didn’t push him to explain the lie, deciding to give him the space he needed to sort out his emotions.

Risa expected that he would reach out to her within a couple of days. A week at most. But, after the second week of silence from him, she sent him a message before going to his apartment.

He didn’t answer the door when she knocked, but he had given her a spare key so she could let herself in if he wasn’t around. She didn’t want to use it, especially considering where their relationship stood at that moment, but she knew it was safer for her to wait inside.

And if he kicked her out the moment he walked in, then that was that. Their relationship would end because of that unknown demon plaguing Satoshi, and she would have to find a way to get over someone she legitimately wanted to marry one day.

C’est la vie, she supposed. All things had to come to an end one way or another.

“Excuse me,” she whispered, letting herself in. She slipped off her flats, leaving it in the empty spot reserved for her shoes, before walking into the living area.

It was a mess.

Satoshi wasn’t an organized person despite how he presented himself, but he managed to keep his place somewhat tidy if Risa decided to pop in unexpectedly. She tiptoed through piles of books and papers and laundry (whether clean or used, she wasn’t sure), before placing her bag on the countertop.

Risa checked her phone to see if Satoshi had responded to her message, but there was still no reply. She began to clean to pass the time, moving books and papers into cleaner piles based off their topics while she did his laundry.

Midnight had long passed when she finished, and Satoshi still hadn’t returned. He also hadn’t responded to her message. So she stayed up to wait for him, watching dramas on her phone, until sleep finally took her.

…

Risa came to, covered in a blanket, with someone holding her hand.

She leaned over to see Satoshi passed out on the floor, hidden by the other half of the blanket as he held her hand. He frowned before unconsciously tucking himself under the covers.

A smile erupted on Risa’s face, and she squeezed his hand before getting up. She went to the bathroom to tidy up and came out to Satoshi sitting up, eyes squinted, with a pout on his face.

“Why did you leave?” he whined.

“I needed to use the bathroom,” she answered. “When did you come back?”

“Late. Or early?” Satoshi yawned. “I just know the sun was already up.”

“Were you working late?”

“No. I was out with friends. Drinking.” He scrunched his face again. “Shit. My head’s pounding.”

“Well, how much did you drink?”

“A lot.”

She shot him a look. He groaned before climbing onto the sofa, curling up in a ball, and covering himself with the blanket. She chuckled seeing her usually aloof boyfriend act so childish, but this always happened after Satoshi had enough to drink.

(Risa was usually as drunk as Satoshi whenever he got like this. So, instead of watching on in sober amusement, the two of them ended up fawning over each other like lovestruck teenagers.)

“Do you need me to grab anything? To help you sober up?” she asked.

“No. I’ve got instant noodles in the pantry and kimchi in the fridge.”

She recoiled at the combination. “…are you sure?”

“Yeah.” His head poked out of his blanket cocoon. “Can you please prepare the ramen for me?”

“Of course.”

She navigated his kitchen, having made instant noodles for them countless times before. And, while she waited for the pot to boil, she turned around, expecting to see Satoshi tucked back into the blanket.

Instead, she saw him sitting up, looking directly at her with a serious expression on his face, possibly induced by his hangover-induced headache, that was seriously undermined by his ridiculous bed head. Risa cracked a smile.

“Headache’s killing you?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “How’ve you been? These past two weeks?”

“Tired. Stressed.” Risa shrugged. “You know, the usual.”

Satoshi kept his gaze trained on her, as if he was expecting her to say something else. She tilted her head in response, nudging him to continue, but he shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he assured her. “Can you also get me some water?”

“What about coffee?”

“I’d like to hydrate before I dehydrate myself again.”

Risa filled a mug using the filtered water pitcher on his countertop before handing it to him. He chugged half of it, pausing for a breath, before drinking the rest.

“More water? Or is it time for coffee?”

“…I think coffee can wait for now.”

She refilled the pitcher before bringing it to him. He poured himself some more water before downing yet another mug. When she heard the water boil, Risa added the noodles and seasoning to the pot before setting a timer.

“You’re not making any for yourself?” Satoshi asked.

“I just had some yesterday,” she said. “If I have more today, I’m scared it might ruin my physique.”

“Says the woman who ends up eating more than me whenever we share a meal.”

Risa smiled to herself, relieved to hear the joking lilt in Satoshi’s tone. She took some kimchi out from his fridge and cut it into bite-sized pieces. The timer rang when she finished, and she poured the noodles into a bowl before delivering the food to Satoshi.

He slid off the sofa before eating, punctuating his elegant slurps with the crunch of the kimchi. And Risa sat across from him and admired the way her boyfriend, who usually pecked at his food, devoured the meal like he hadn’t eaten in days.

Although, if Risa had to be honest, there was a chance he probably hadn’t eaten a full meal in a while.

Only when Satoshi finished eating did he break the silence.

“Are you not upset over the fact that I haven’t texted you in two weeks?” he asked. “I figured you’d have some pointed words for me when the moment arose.”

“I know I can get like that sometimes, but I can’t do that to you. Not when I’m sure the whole thing’s been just as hard, if not harder, for you as it has been for me,” Risa answered. “I was actually bracing myself for you to break up with me when I came to your apartment last night.”

Risa’s words made him instinctively reach for her hand across the table. His thumb rubbed circles on her skin in a feeble attempt to comfort her.

“What’s wrong, Satoshi?” she asked. “What’s so terrifying for you that you had to leave my apartment like that? That you had to avoid me for this long? That you’re so scared of us talking about it?”

“…do you love me?”

She pulled away from him before looking down at their now disconnected hands. The centimeter between their fingers was painful enough. But if she saw his usual aloof expression on his face after asking such a loaded question, it would kill her.

How could this man, after all the time they spent together, the long nights spent either pouring their hearts out or cuddling or making love, think that she doesn’t love him? This was the man that she could imagine herself getting married to, and yet he didn’t feel the same?

Were his words about their potential future after graduation just empty promises?

“…how could you ask me that?” she said, feeling the tears bead at the corner of her eyes. “Why…are you asking me that?”

“Because of Bam. Because of all the other guys you’ve looked at that momentarily take you away.”

“But I don’t love them!” Risa could no longer contain her shrill voice. “Just because they’re my type and because I find them attractive doesn’t mean that I don’t love you! You’re—”

Risa’s throat constricted in terror, unable to tell him the words that she wanted him to hear. She felt the grip on her sanity slipping. If he dismissed her words of love as just a passing whimsy, hysteria would overtake her.

“…I know why you like guys like that.”

The shock of his words quelled the flurry of her emotions.  Risa’s head shot up to face him. Satoshi wasn’t even looking at her.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Remember when I met you at that lamppost all those years ago?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “When you were crying about being unable to remember the person you loved? That person…he looks exactly like your type.”

“How do you know that?”

“Dark Mousy was part of an artwork created by the cursed blood of my ancestors. And when he was sealed away on that fateful day, almost everyone except for a handful of people forgot that he existed—ah, can you hand me that scrap piece of paper and pen?” She did as she was asked. “Thanks.”

Satoshi gingerly took the pen from her hand, careful not to brush against her fingers, before sketching a portrait. And when he finished, despite how rough it looked, Risa’s heart both soared and cried just like it did whenever she saw someone who was her type. How strange it was for something to simultaneously look so familiar and unfamiliar.

“When you were fourteen, you fell in love with this dashingly handsome phantom thief named Dark Mousy, unaware of his true identity. You showered him with your unconditional love, continued to do so despite everything you learned about him, and he eventually reciprocated, falling just as madly in love with you.

“He is your first love.”

A tear rolled down Risa’s face.

She was so overwhelmed with this information, with all those feelings, that it paralyzed her. Satoshi stood up before leaving the peripheries of her view.

“I’ll leave you for a bit to process all that. And, when you’re done, feel free to leave.”

“…where are you going?” she squeaked.

“Out. Don’t wait for me to return.” She heard him slip on his shoes. “If you want to break up with me over this, I completely understand. Take as long as you need to make that decision, alright?” The door swung open. “Goodbye.”

When the door closed behind him, the finality in his farewell hit her. And, only when she was alone in his apartment, did she crumple onto the floor and cry.

…

Satoshi returned to his apartment after yet another long night of drinking with his friends. He abstained from most alcohol this time, unsure if he could contain what occurred earlier were he to get drunk, so he entertained pints of beer until they decided it was time to retire for the day.

Only then did he realize how neat his apartment was.

The piles of laundry that he had no energy to tackle were gone. And his research was piled in neat mounds, out of the way of any foot traffic. He was too preoccupied that morning to even notice what Risa had done for him.

He found a note on the low table, scribbled on the piece of paper that he sketched Dark on.

You’re an idiot and a coward, Satoshi.

I’ve made up my mind. I’ll see you tomorrow to tell you my answer in person.

Risa

Satoshi shook his head.

There was the Risa he knew. However, even he couldn’t tell whether she was joking or being as blunt as she could considering the precarious state of their relationship.

The exhaustion of the day finally caught up with him and Satoshi, one to adhere to his nightly routine, just passed out on the covers of his bed.

…

Satoshi had a dream that night of Risa, at fourteen, standing by that forsaken lamppost. He expected to see her crying, just like she was all those years ago, but she just turned towards him and smiled.

“Why are you crying, Hiwatari-san?” she asked, curious yet kind.

Only then did he feel the warm streak of tears on his cheeks. He stood, frozen, while Risa came up to him and pulled him into a gentle embrace.

“I know it seems like a terrible fate to have forgotten the person you’ve loved to the point that you can’t even put a name or a face to those feelings, but I don’t see it that way. Dark’s a part of my past, and that’s where he’s going to stay. Honestly, it’s a blessing that I have no recollection of him anymore.”

Risa let go of him and wiped the tears from his eyes. “You and I both know how difficult it is to let go of our first loves, but that’s all they were: our first loves. They’re not the people we’re in love with now nor the people we will be love with in the future. I’m still unconsciously holding onto Dark because he’s such an important part of those blindingly beautiful days of my youth. Nothing more.

“But, Satoshi, you’re my present. And I hope that you’ll be my future, so take good care of me, alright?”

Satoshi began to sob, and Risa hugged him once more.

For once, this was a dream that he didn’t want to wake from.

…

Satoshi woke up to banging on his door.

He ignored it, hoping that whoever it was would eventually leave him alone, but the knocks continued. Satoshi got up, anger rising with each step he took to the door, until he swung it open, ready to—it was Risa.

“Are you that upset to see me?” she asked, letting herself in.

“No. Sorry, it’s just—your knocking.”

“Well, someone wasn’t opening up when I was still polite about it,” she sang.

“…I just woke up.”

Risa nodded before plopping down on his sofa. “So, are you ready for my answer?”

“Honestly, I’m a bit scared. You’ll either give me some of the best or worst news I’ve heard in a while, and your current nonchalance is not reassuring in the slightest.”

“Ye of little faith.”

“Do you know how terrifying your cheerfulness can be?”

Her dulcet laugh filled his living room for what may or may not be the last time. And when she finished, she grinned which, unfortunately, was scarier than if she was taking this seriously.

“Marry me, Satoshi.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Well, I was trying to come up with something super romantic that would hopefully let you know how much I love you, but this was all I got. It’s corny and cheesy, right?”

“Risa, you’re not the one who’s supposed to be proposing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Woman have just as much of a right to propose in a relationship as a man does.”

“Yes, I’m aware, but that’s not the issue at hand right now.”

“Then what is?”

“We are far from financially stable to even think of a wedding right now. Completing our dissertations come first. Besides, we don’t even have a ring, so—”

“I know, Satoshi. I know,” she said. “Marriage is so far off that I shouldn’t even be thinking about it right now, but I’m telling you that I want to marry you because I see a future with you. That I love you so much that, right now, I can’t imagine anyone else by my side for the rest of my life. I love you so much more than you think I love that Dark guy, and I will continue to love you as best as I can for as long as I’m alive.

“The official proposal and marriage can wait until we’re ready. But, right now, I’m letting you know that I’m choosing you. I’m choosing you today, and I will continue to choose you tomorrow. Ad infinitum.”

This was playing so similarly to his dream the night before that he couldn’t believe the words coming out of Risa’s mouth. He had to be dreaming.

“Pinch me.”

She complied. Her sharp nails dug into his skin.

“So this isn’t a dream…”

“I’m offended that you thought my sweeping confession was a dream.”

“No, it’s just—I had dream similar to this last night. I wanted to make sure this was reality.”

“You’re just saying that because you think that’s what I want to hear.”

“No, I’m being serious.”

Satoshi took her hands in his. And, feeling the warmth of her skin through his palms, he began to tear up.

“I love you, too, Risa. And, when that times comes, I will get down on one knee with a ring of your liking to ask for your hand in marriage because I don’t want to imagine a future without you by my side. For now, all I can say is that I will continue to choose you today, and I will continue to choose you tomorrow. Ad infinitum.”

Risa pulled Satoshi into a hug, rubbing his back. “If my husband-to-be is already crying telling me how much he loves me now, how will he fare when he has to do it in front of all our loved ones?”

“He will cry just as much, if not more, in front of an audience because he cannot believe he gets to spend the rest of his life with someone like you.”

Their hands cupped their lover’s face. With their eyes locked onto each other, they had the perfect opportunity to seal their love with a kiss. But they didn’t.

Risa beamed, her delight so infectious that Satoshi, with his most content smile, just leaned his forehead on hers while his tears kept falling. She kept tutting about her emotional boyfriend as she giggled and wiped his tears away. That feeling of comfort, of safety, of their physical closeness, of their emotional intimacy, was love.

It was their love.

And it was one of the few things that the infamous phantom thief, Dark Mousy, and the cursed Hikari blood in his veins, couldn’t take from them.  

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

This might seem like a weirdly personal question, but do you have any advice on managing strong romantic feelings for a fictional character and/or the actor who plays them? I only ask because after seeing MoM, I developed some feelings for Wanda, and by extension Elizabeth Olsen herself, that feel about as close to love as you can get without directly knowing the person. I know how this would come across to a lot of people so I will say upfront that I’ve never considered stalking or harassing her in any way, and that whatever interaction I might have with her would be on her terms in a setting she’s comfortable with. That being said, I also hold myself to a high standard in how I feel about her and have a lot of guilt or anxiety about other emotions, some of them trivial like feeling bad that I didn’t watch Wandavision when it first came out, and some more intense like even though I want to work in movies and maybe with Elizabeth herself, I’m not smart enough to be a writer and director and create something worthy of her talents. And in certain times, there’s also angst over not ever having a chance to be with her or even Wanda romantically followed by guilt over being that selfish in wanting her for myself. Sorry if this is going on too long but essentially, are there strategies you or someone you know are familiar with for keeping an affection for someone like this in your life in a healthy way, because I do appreciate the good aspects of Elizabeth’s talent and Wanda’s story but not letting the negative feelings on my part get in the way. Sorry if this is gets too personal but thank you for your time.

No apology needed at all, dear! It's alright. Thank you for reaching out.

I'm afraid I know very little about these things, to be honest. The way I see it, all emotions are exactly the same. If we're okay with people laughing or crying over a story, why would other emotions be a problem? It's a fantasy after all. Real or not doesn't really change anything, humans have developed so many different forms of communication precisely because we love telling stories to each other -- none of them are real, but that doesn't make them any less valuable.

I believe the question you need to ask yourself is if this is affecting your life in any way, as in your real-life relationships, your mental well-being, your work, your responsibilities, etc. But if it isn't, there's nothing wrong with fantasizing or feeling. Wanda is a fictional character after all so whatever you do or say is not going to hurt her, and regarding Elizabeth you seem to have it figured out just fine as well. So, is it hurting you?

As for the other less pleasant feelings such as anxiety, guilt, etc, I can only assume that if you have romantic feelings for her and Wanda, you will experience everything that comes with that. Love isn't always nice, is it? Be it with a real person or not, sometimes it's messy and painful.

Personally, I wouldn't try to fight against those feelings or bottle them up, that would only make things worse. Just allow yourself to feel them, maybe do something creative with them like write fanfic or draw or talk to other fans about it, etc. Or just fantasize about it in your own way, whatever makes you 'feel' is good enough -- both pleasant and non-pleasant are okay, maybe you can try to change the perspective and see those emotions as a gateway to understanding yourself better. I know the non-pleasant ones suck big time, but they can be helpful.

A quick google search says this is "fictosexuality". There must be some forums online with people who discuss this kind of thing, they'll probably give you better advice than me since I don't really know much about this. I'm sorry I can't be of better help here but know that you're not alone.

[kithtaehyung]

Jett is good at a lot of things, but words isn‘t one of them, so don’t expect this long of a response from me ever again. But I have a lot of thoughts that I‘ve been holding onto since I started reading 3tan, and I was waiting for the proverbial "right time" to say them. I guess now feels right.

Fanfiction in and of itself is an unrealistic genre, but even so, I feel like a lot of writers lose themselves in the dramatic delusions and fantasy of the genre. I’ve been reading and writing fanfics avidly since I was maybe 10 years old (I‘m 22 now, so safe to say it’s been a while), and what I always despised about the things I’ve read is how unhinged and unrealistic it is. They painted a skewed image of what relationships should look like, what healthy friendships and intimacy should look like, and I know a lot of people who don’t have experience outside of fanfics adopt these views as their own.

Which brings me to my point of why I hold you, and three tangerines to such a high regard: it’s so real. It’s so blatantly obvious that you understand who Yoongi is at his core, and even though he still has a slightly altered personality for the sake of the AU, it’s still *him*. The fact that we can see his insecurities and his tumultuous inner monologue and he’s not just hot hunky perfect man for the sake of a fanfic is what I love, because it shows your understanding. That, and Y/N isn’t just a spiraling damsel in distress for the love interest to come and sweep all her problems away. She’s her own person, she has layers and a complex personality, she has friendships and a job outside of Yoongi, she‘s honestly the realest OC I’ve seen ever.

And then there’s their actual relationship. Their communication and lack thereof. It’s not perfect, and that’s beautiful, because it’s not supposed to be. What really caught my attention the most was how you write the sex scenes, because again, with fanfic it’s so easy to get carried away in the fantasy and making everything seem perfect, but you write in the teeth bumping into each other, the uncomfortable noises, the cleaning up afterwards, the awkward pause waiting for a condom to be put on, all these things that aren’t necessarily "perfect," but it makes it so much more real. I think it goes so far beyond making it more enjoyable for me, but I think you’re part of a bigger change to setting a healthy standard for what relationships and sex should actually look like. Before 3tan, I had never read anyone asking for consent in a fanfic. I never read about having to switch positions to be more comfortable. I never read about such an open line of communication right in the middle of sex, and it’s a shame I’m only seeing it now. I hope more people take notes from you, because you truly should be the standard that people strive to be.

Last thing, I love that despite the length of your chapters/parts, it’s not wordy. It’s not boring. It’s not long just for the sake of being long. Every word is purposeful. As a writer, that’s something I struggle with so much, so it’s really nice to see lengthy chapters done right.

You deserve the break. You deserve all the love. You deserve it all.

jett, you are wonderful, powerful, and so, so lovely. you are a writer and you certainly do have a way with words bc my god you made me BAWL when i read this the first time. i honestly don't know what to say to this. but i will try my best.

to start, i'll say this: thank you for touching on the aspect of three tangerines being real. because my point from the start was to make it as relatable and comforting as it is spicy, but of course a year later it has turned into more than that. more than i ever imagined and will continue to be part of my life no matter what.

i'm really happy you also like this yoongi. whether he's really like the real yoongi or not, i don't know for sure. but i do know that he brings me peace and comfort to write and there's a connection i feel whenever i work on this series. and i know he's not perfect, because i don't want him to be. none of my characters are flawless and i've set that point for my fics from the very beginning. everyone is just gonna be human, with all the good and bad that comes with it. same thing goes for reader. not perfect, just genuine. real. complex, like we are.

along with people, i know relationships aren't perfect, either. so that's what i wanted to also showcase here, too. but you're right: that's what makes this magical - the push and pull, the dancing, the tension, the imperfection. the sex, too. it's all about keeping this as real and organic and human as possible.

"I think it goes so far beyond making it more enjoyable for me, but I think you’re part of a bigger change to setting a healthy standard for what relationships and sex should actually look like. Before 3tan, I had never read anyone asking for consent in a fanfic. I never read about having to switch positions to be more comfortable. I never read about such an open line of communication right in the middle of sex, and it’s a shame I’m only seeing it now. I hope more people take notes from you, because you truly should be the standard that people strive to be."

i genuinely don't have words for this. you've rendered me speechless here and i feel.. idk, like i accomplished something above what i wanted to and just feel like crying. because this is meant to be a comfort series, since the beginning. that all of this is what you should look for. it's all normal and fine and okay.

thank you so much for all of this. i'm just sitting here not really knowing what to say and all of this response probably didn't make sense because i was typing with blurry vision but. yeah. thank you for telling me this. it's thoughtful as hell and i can only hope i keep this standard.

i shall make the most of my break, babe. my brain does need to rest and i will give it what it needs<3

[burnedbyshoto]

matryoshka doll

— Momo is a modern day princess, so it makes sense as to why every single person she’s asked if they wanted to have sex reject her because they felt unworthy. But she’s a girl with carnal needs and if that means having anonymous sex is the only way to have them met, so be it.

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pairing: yaoyorozu momo x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, stuck in a wall, anal fisting (giving), fingering, marking, degradation, daddy kink!reader, princess!momo, praise, pwp, cursing, service top!reader, phat ass!momo

word count: 3,333

a/n: i stayed up until 4 am reading bkdk angst fanfic and im so, so tired...... momo has a phat ass that is full of stretch marks and cellulite and I drool at the thought of it. no I dont take any feedback on that.

kinktober day 9 main kink: anonymous sex | kinktober masterlist

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Momo has a secret.

A deep, dark, twisted secret.

It wasn’t so much that it was horrible, humiliating, or even a nuisance for all of humanity, but it definitely was a secret she was keen on keeping until she was six feet under.

Why was that?

Oh, well, you see, it involved one of the most taboo topics in the world: sex.

Yaoyorozu Momo lived a sheltered, elite life. At the tender age of four, she had managed to create an object by replicating a Matryoshka doll's exact molecular structure. She didn’t need to assume that most individuals couldn't compose the doll's molecular structure regardless of their intellect or education. Yet, with a determined gaze, her person and mind no much older than four years old, she succeeded in producing a single, lone, beautiful Matryoshka doll.

But, because of her natural-born intelligence and near-prodigious level thinking, the wealth that her parents held led her to a life where something such as a peck on the cheek was considered scandalous. 

Kissing on the lips was considered a "marriage only" rule, and sex wasn’t even a word she knew.

Middle school for Yaoyorozu Momo consisted of her and her private tutors within her home. Her education was created just for her, and she had evening outings with her similar circles to ensure she had an appropriate social life. All in all, Momo didn’t know what sex was until she was sixteen, sitting in the common area of the dorm room with all her female friends who casually brought up the idea of what they could potentially be into, of who they would. Momo would quote: fuck, marry, or kill of three randomly generated boys within the class.

Of course, Momo’s eyes fluttered at the word fuck, having already known it as a curse word, and only as such as Bakugou always seemed to be yelling it. She had wrongfully spluttered when Mina had wiggled her eyebrows at Uraraka on why, oh why she had only chosen to ‘fuck Midoriya’ and not marry him. To Momo, who also at the time, was aware of her current blossoming feelings towards the smart but somewhat flutter tongued classmate of theirs, had been rather confused at the results Uraraka gave too.

“Kill… uh, Iida-kun,” Urakaka fidgeted, blushing harder under the intense stares of Mina and Hagakure (who had a mean glare despite not being able to see her). “Fuck Deku-kun, marry Todoroki-kun!”

Momo had assumed she would wish to marry her at the time crush, not choose the option to curse him out!

“Uraraka-san, you wish to cuss out Midoriya-san?” Momo had asked, saving the naturally rosy girl from their pink-skinned and invisible friend. “Why is that?”

“Hold on?” Jirou interrupted immediately, Momo’s undoubtedly closest friend rose from her slouched position next to her, her hand placed on her shoulder. “What was that?!”

“Well, isn’t the, ahem, please excuse my vulgar words, ‘fuck,’ option meaning to curse someone out? As Bakugou-san does to many people when he uses that word?” Momo had asked so innocently, so purely that the girls all almost felt horrible for popping the innocent bubble the modern-day princess was in -- keyword: almost.

For the first time in her life, Yaoyorozu Momo was not the most knowledgable in a subject; her cheeks stained red with embarrassing heat when Tsuyu took charge of explaining the alternate definition to what ‘fuck’ meant. 

“You mean babies don’t come in storks?!” she had cried uncontrollably that night. She was utterly overwhelmed by this new level of information that would send her in a spiral of the need to acquire further details for the sake of education and, well, yes, the science of fucking.

From the moment she was sixteen until she was twenty, Momo’s knowledge of sex went from being the lowest in the class, to as it naturally should have been, the most knowledgable person on it. She knew of things, the different branches of sex, where to experience certain types of kinks, and theoretically, where the human body's best parts to touch when having sex. So, the moment she had turned of consenting legal age to have sex, Momo would be lying if she said she wasn’t ready to have sex. 

But there was something in her way, something that not even years of studying could help her with, or could change the circumstances of which she found herself in. It seemed that though her friends enjoyed her sudden new-found genius towards the art and science behind sex, no one thought of her as a… sexual being.

“I c-can’t have sex with you!” Jirou had flushed red, her eyes scattering to every edge of the room, refusing to look at the wealthy heiress who had asked her best friend over during their last week of high school to do the deed. “You’re the modern-day royalty: Yaoyorozu Momo! I’m not… qualified enough!”

Momo frowned, “Oh?”

.

..

.

“Sex?” Todoroki had echoed, his eyes alarming wide despite his composed, neutral expression. Momo nodded her head, ignoring the small wisp of fire that emitted from his hair. “Oh, well, I don’t think I can do that for you, Yaoyorozu. It’s nothing against you, but I don’t think I’d like to have meaningless sex with you for the first time.”

Momo winced, “Oh, okay.”

“That sounded a lot meaner then intended, I apologize.”

.

..

…

..

.

And that’s how it seemed to go.

Aoyama hadn’t been interested in having sex at all with Momo. Mina said she was severely unworthy. Tsuyu simply rejected her because their relationship wasn’t one that had possibilities of sexual encounters. Iida said it would be irresponsible of him to take something of value of hers. Uraraka cried about how inferior scum like her had no right.

Ojiro apologized, having been in a relationship at the moment and wouldn’t. Kaminari said him sexually touching Momo would give the world every right to skin him where he lay. Kirishima had blushed brighter than his hair and stammered; he couldn’t without a proper relationship between the two of them. Kouda had run off crying. Sato had mumbled about how he enjoyed setting tea and pastries together but couldn’t imagine putting his tea in and on her pastry, or some weird allusion like that.

Shoji had bowed his head in apologies, saying she would regret sleeping with him. Sero had run away, crashing into a glass door explaining he wasn’t good enough. Tokoyami stated they weren’t a fated pair and rejected her kindly -- she thinks. Hagakure was in a relationship and politely declined her. Bakugou scoffed and told her to look elsewhere. Midoriya had stammered and suggested that he wasn’t the best option. Mineta just was never an option for her.

She had asked eighteen people who had all told her they would help her with anything, and the only thing that kept being thrown back into her face regarding something that she didn’t see to be anything that special was that she was royalty in their eyes. It was fine at first; honestly, it was! Momo had nodded her head, merely retreating to her home and creating an arrangement of sex toys most suited for her. And for a while, it had been enough.

But like the Matryoshka dolls, she was so fond of making, so good at making, she had several layers underneath that shouldn’t be ignored. And her sexual pleasures and gains had been a neglected part of her for too long. 

From having the longest, thickest dildo she could make for herself, up her cunt, to the vibrator and fuck machines she should create (because she was not allowed anywhere near a sex shop), she had been blissful. Each orgasm ripping through her pleasantly, causing her sweaty chest to arch off her bed, her legs slamming closed as it burst from inside of her, causing her to bit harshly on her fist just in case. But just as even playing with your favorite game day after day, feeling alone, lonely, and unwanted, Momo found that even her toys weren’t enough.

She needed more.

No one would fuck her because of her status, because of her last name and the wealth that she brought, so she decided that if she was to do this, to gain the human touch she ever so desired and lusted over, she was going to have to erase her identity.

She had found a little place in the back alleys of Tokyo. They were hiring anyone who dared to visit and the only requirement to join was that you were willing to be fucked. Momo had shown up for the interview, face obscured by a hoodie she wore and was hired the moment she walked in with her spandex shorts hugging her tiny waist and fat ass. She had always seen places like this within her porn research but had never actually assumed fuck ho(l)es existed. 

She certainly didn’t expect to be put in a wall where only her ass and cunt hanging out and the cold, wet tip of a sharpie marker to write against her clear virgin skin: FREE HOLE TO FUCK. VIRGIN LITTLE WHORE. She could feel that written on her skin, but she was unaware of the words that surrounded her placement on the wall: “put a tally and a review for every pump of cum you shove in me!”

There was no need for a picture by her whole because the people who frequented this place had no desires of that, and so, Momo found peace even as the starting alarm blared in her ear that customers were finally being let it.

To sum up the experience her first night at this joint, the first time experiencing a hot, living, throbbing cock in both her cunt and ass, Momo would have to blush. Her eyes shifting from yours onto the floor as she smiled. A chuckle on her face as she thought back to the end of that four hour fuck feast and remembered that there were nearly eighty-three tally marks on her bruised and blistered ass, of how her cum and all that cum continued to seep from her clenching holes for two days afterward… she loved it.

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You needed to blow off some steam.

Having just been entirely, horribly dumped by your ex and having precisely zero side pieces on the side to fuck, you went out of your way to secure a quick, easy fuck to get your mind off of things. There was no reason for you to simply not join Tinder and ask the first swipe to come over and fuck, but you didn’t want to see a face. You didn’t even want to know their face. As a matter of fact, you weren’t even so much as interested in your own orgasm at the moment than just making someone else cum. So when a pretty woman handed your glowering face a flyer as you were storming around the streets of Tokyo hoping for a sign from god, you almost cried at what the flyer informed you of.

A local... hole in the wall filled with glory holes and exposed asses, cunts, and cocks alike. 

Was it destiny?

You sure believed so as you found yourself tailing to the obscure address, praying for the establishment to be open and, for the most part, empty because you had no plans on performing shit in front of watching eyes. Handing a thousand yen over to the admissions lady as your fee to the use of their prized cunts, cocks, and asses, you shoved the black ticket into your pocket and brisked in.

As you entered the back room, the tension in you back and pressure on your chest seemed to melt away immediately at the scent of sex, dried cum, and sweat. It was an altogether horrid stench, to be quite honest, but right now, it sent fire to your core, your lips licking at the walls and corners willed with awaiting to be attended to people. Twisted pleasure coursed through your veins as you walked around, your eyes taking note of the graffitied words around the individual holes, taking note of the black sharpie words on bruised and battered skin, and some cunts still dripping with someone else’s cum.

‘Loose cunt’ one person had.

‘Hasn’t been broken in yet,’ said another.

‘Loves it when you ‘accidentally’ fuck their ass,’ scrawled on another.

 You couldn’t help but smile at the twisted humor, moving until finally, you saw one that exposed ass first to the world, eight tallies marked on her skin, and oh, the words painted on her smooth, perfect skin and the surrounding walls pulled you in.

‘Tightest fucking pussy.’ ‘100/10 recommended, been back multiple times for more.’ ‘Slip your fist up her ass, she LOVES it.’ ‘Favorite fucking whore here.’ ‘Would fuck again.’ ‘Slut likes it rough and mean.’ ‘Please fuck me!!!!’

You watched as the shiny slick of her cum slowly seep from her spread cheeks, not quite dripping, but definitely wet with her arousal. Something was calling you to her, your feet stumbling nearly tipsy with this outworld lust and drunkenness as you stopped behind her slapped pink ass. And without much need of thought to wonder where to stop, your hands found themselves grabbing her thick, supple ass and you moaned at the warmth emitting from her skin, of how her skin was so soft, so moveable, so bouncy. It was larger than your hands, your fingernails running against the cellulite, and stretch marks on her ass that made you want to kiss and run your tongue against even more. You couldn’t hear her, you couldn’t possibly know if she had liked the way your fingers dug into her ass, but her ass bounced, teetering with your grip as you could imagine a soft, juicy moan. 

“I wonder if you can hear me?” you asked, most likely to no one, fingers spreading her ass, spanking the used whorish skin of hers so that small, tight, clenching pink asshole was on full display for you. “If you sit there for all these hours and listen to men fuck you with their ugly moaning and pathetic growling.”

Her ass rolled in your hands, and you smiled, taking that as a sign that yes, she heard everything, even you. Raising your hand to the bottle of lube, you saturated your fingers with the cold, transparent liquid, turning your fingers down over her still exposed, flush hole. You watched as the lube dripped down, splattering messily around her tight, rimmed muscle, watching her clench and unclench the muscle in alarming beauty.

“I must apologize, princess,” you sighed, looking at the names scrawled on the walls that this cunt and ass seemed to be most responsive to, and number one on that list was princess. “Your daddy isn’t feeling particularly rough today, so I hope you’ll behave with my softer movements.”

You're not quite sure where the reference to yourself as daddy had come from, but the way the ass muscles clenched between the lone hand that held her cheek made it worth it. 

Your lube coated finger edged the pert opening of her ass, feeling the way the already used muscle expanded for your finger if a little stubbornly.

“Relax, princess, daddy sees you like being fisted, so I’m going to make sure you feel good. 

You pressed your finger in until the knuckle disappeared beneath the muscle, your grin growing into a hazy, lustful gaze when you felt her ass bounce. This moan vibrated all the way to her anal cavity as you wasted no time in adding a second finger. Her ass was tight, the ribbed walls of the cavity bumping and gliding against your moving fingers, and you grinned when she loudly moaned. You didn’t need to be an expert to see that she had never been fucked softly or thoroughly before. She must have been used to the terrible, animalistic rage that the men here possessed when fucking these people behind the walls. If you didn’t know any better, you would assume that she lost her virginity here. 

Your fingers curled, stroking and persuading her body to ripple and twitch with your commanding movements, and another finger added in, and another finger added in. Soon enough, you had four fingers in, all save your thumb. The stretch of her ass around your nearly formed ass was incredible; she took you so well, not a sound of agonizing pain was heard through the wall, although you swore you heard sounds of elation. The damn slut did enjoy it.

Your thumb pressed to her cunt, rubbing the slick folds of her pussy, softly fucking the outermost part of her inner walls, much against her approval if the way he ass bounced heavily in need had anything to say about it. 

“Ah, does the princess, not like this?” you asked, your hand that was currently not four fingers into her ass stretching out her cheeks even further as finally you retracted your hand out, made a fist, and sunk back in. Now there was a scream. But the way that it shot curling ravenous fires into your core, you knew it wasn’t one of horror or pain. No. It was one of absolute, slutty pleasure. You moaned at the sound, your arm beginning to thrust into her ass slowly, intentionally, and with burning passion and desire to hear her wail again. She sounded so pretty, sounded so slutty.

Your now free hand moved to her cunt, your mind trying to stimulate her more, trying to ignore the way her ass was hot and deliciously tight around your forearm as your pinched and rolled at her clit. Your thumb stayed on her clit, but your fingers stretched to enter her clenching cunt that seemed to be in synch with her ass. YOu moaned in content at the feeling of her inner walls suctioning against your intruding finger, and you laughed upon feeling your moving arm within her ass against her cunt. And that beautiful, pitchy whine resonated deeply again, and your mind melted.

Your fingers and fist doubled in speed, the growing sharp moans through the walls fueling you to move faster, to be rougher, to make her see stars. No wonder why no one fucked her with love here, you thought as leaned down, teeth tearing against her ass cheek that read: mark me, please. Who could stay composed when this fucking slut was this goddamn loud.

“Such a good fucking princess, so slutty, so nice for your daddy,” you grunted,  against her skin, your hips snapping at air as the heat and wetness in your pants made you uncomfortable -- the need for more biting through your clothes. “You like my fist up your ass? You like everyone’s fist up your ass, don’t do? Doesn’t fucking surprise me with those stupid loud moans you make.”

Your words were hissed, your fingernails scraping against her pulsating, throbbing inner walls, and then it happened.

Her ass and her cunt clenched against your fingers and fist. And your jaw dropped as a rippling effect ran across your arm that was buried in her ass.

Was that a?

Holy fucking shit?!

“Princess, did your ass just orgasm?!”

A confirming, pathetic moan sent your mind to the moon.

Suddenly feeling as if this was too much for you, and with no way to relive yourself in this type of fuck room, you removed your hand quickly from her ass, your dominant hand grabbing the hanging sharpie on the wall and added two more tally marks on the number of times she’s cum.

You race out of there, the fire in between your legs too much to handle. Well, at least not before adding one more, important piece of information on her ass and on the wall: ‘if you fuck my ass like daddy did, maybe my ass will orgasm for you too.”

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Summary and Ch.1

A Salvatore Moreau x Female!FishMutant!oc fic based on this idea I had the other day that a very specific subset of the fanfom went absolutely apeshit for, which I'm here for and decided to act on. I can't make any promises for consistent uploading or even a finishes product by the end of this, but so long as im still interested in working on it, I'll keep working on it, and if im not, then I wont, plain and simple. Anyways, here's the summary and chapter 1, please let me know what you think of the story so far, i hope you all enjoy (you'd better all enjoy), and I can't wait to see you all again for chapter 2. Bye! <333 (Link to ao3 posting will be in comments so check there if you want to read it there instead)

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

Summary:

Now, I’m sure everyone already knows the ancient tales that tell of a beautiful young woman slowly falling in love with a horrific monstrosity of a man. The pure and true love this innocent beauty comes to feel for him, despite his terrifying appearance, is the key that breaks the cruel and twisted curse under which he’d been kept prisoner. This allows the man behind the monster to not only return to his true human form, but then go on to live his Happily Ever After with the beauty who saved him. Everyone already knows of these tales, as well as the messages behind them, however that is not quite the way this particular tale plays out.

The tale I am about to tell bears many similarities to the one above, however there are also quite a few important differences. For while the original detailed a beauty falling for a monster because of the kind and loving man he was behind his hideous exterior, this is a tale of a beauty, with a few monstrous qualities of her own, falling in love with a kind and loving monster, not at all despite his grotesque appearance, but rather, in part, because of it.

This is a tale, where the Beast still falls for his Beauty first, but the Beauty is the one who will be pursuing her Beast.

Chapter 1: Mother's Gift

Few of those who lived isolated from the outer world, high up in the mountains of Romania, would expect anyone of reasonable sanity to be out traveling in this hellish sort of weather. The wind howling a demonic high pitched tune; snow, sleet, and hail pounding into the ground like an endless shower of bullets from the heavens; and hungry lycans still roaming the area, tirelessly looking for their next meal, would be enough to incentivize even the strongest of mortal men to seek shelter away from the deadly conditions of the outside.

A man by the name of Salvatore Moreau however, one of the 4 lords of this mountain region who lived in the reservoir just past the windmills, did not appear terribly concerned with what other people thought of the traveling conditions. Completely unbothered by the horrifying weather and threat of suddenly being ground into doggy food, the hooded man trudged his way through the dark and barely maintained snow paths. Starting at the reservoir and making his way toward the village, Salvatore moved as quickly as his deformed body would permit, an unusually chipper spring added to his lumbering hobble of a walk.

Mother had a gift for him.

Yes, a truly joyous day it was whenever Mother Miranda called upon him to join her and the other lords for a meeting. Miranda was usually so busy with her experiments that she rarely had time to visit her children outside of these ‘family meetings’ they’d been having recently. However, it would appear as though Mother has come up with a solution of some kind to this problem and wishes to share it with them in person. Whatever this solution is, the mutated man has no idea, as Mother Miranda had been quite vague in her message, however the fact that Salvatore was being given the chance to see his radiant mother AND receive a gift from her, all in one day, was more than enough to make up for how agonizingly lonely he’s been these last few months since winter set in, as well as how agonizing it was for him to walk in this weather.

Salvatore arrived at the usual meeting site just as the clock struck 8pm, precisely as Mother had instructed. However, much to the hooded man’s confusion, when he turned the handle on the large wooden door to enter the room, he quickly realized that he was currently the only one present. This was especially strange considering that, usually, at least one of his siblings was always present a little earlier than necessary, usually Alcina or Karl, but occasionally Donna with Angie in tow.

Mother had clearly said in her message that she wanted to start the meeting at 8pm sharply, so where on earth is everyone?

“Moreau” Mother Miranda’s voice called out, immediately pushing all thoughts from Salvatore’s brain as her powerful, yet lucious voice echoed against the halls of the room like a choir of angels.

“Y-yes! W-what… is it… M-mother Miranda? I-i-i came to you… j-just like you asked” Salvatore responds, bowing his head in reverence as he slowly crosses the room and approaches the otherworldly woman.

“So you did, though I suppose you coming exactly when I call makes the most sense. You always were the most obedient of my children” the woman remarks with casual disdain, her voice devoid of any sort of motherly affection or tenderness. Despite the clear disgust and disregard with which Miranda regards the hooded man standing before her, her words light Salvatore’s soul ablaze, filling his mangled body with intense feelings of heat and desire that melt his heart of the cold, icy frost that had frozen it over the course of the long winter.

“Y-y-yes, y-yes of c-course, Mother M-Miranda! I-i would… I would do any-anything... for y-you. A-anything you s-say... anything y-you n-need… I’d d-do it... f-for you. W-without question!” The deformed man says, practically getting on his hands and knees and crawling as he neared closer and closer to Miranda, stopping only when he’d arrived just in front of the steps the raven mother stood upon, his gaze trained at the ground as he knelt at her feet, awaiting his fate at his mother’s hands.

“I know you would, Moreau,” Miranda says cooly, gently brushing the palm of her hand against the black fabric that covers the top of Salvatore’s head, “which is why I’ve called you here today; to reward you for your loyalty and service to me thus far.”

Salvatore sinks sharp and jagged teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood as he desperately tries to silence the needy whine that wanted to tear its way from the back of his throat. His body shivered and twitched in unimaginable delight from the sudden tender caress to his sensitive skin. How long had it been since someone had touched him so gently? How long since someone had spoken to him with such kind and soft words. Took the time to gather presents as a reward for years of faithful servitude? How long since someone had loved him like this?

‘Too long’ the disfigured man sighed to himself, reveling in the soft, gentle contact for as long as he is able.

“Moreau. Look at me” Miranda commanded firmly, and despite not wanting his beloved Mother to be forced to bear witness to his hideous face, he complied, lifting his head up and back to allow his gaze to lift from the floor and up at the glowing figure that was his Mother, his beautiful, incredible, intelligent, majestic mother.

The light shining down from above illuminates Miranda from behind. From Salvatore’s perspective on the floor, the light darkens her face and most of her torso and waist, giving a softened, almost ethereal glow around Miranda’s figure. This, along with the rest of her garb, makes Mother Miranda appear even more like the holy woman that Salvatore naively believes she still is. Despite her less than affectionate treatment of him thus far, Salvatore still stared up at the darkened face of Mother Miranda, his eyes shining with reverence, love, desire, and unending devotion.

“Y-yes... Mother?” Salvatore breathed, barely able to speak above a whisper as Miranda stepped away, gesturing for him to follow.

“Are you ready to collect your gift now?” The raven mother asks, speaking more softly than before and even holding her hand out to Salvatore, her pose and appearance mirroring that of a powerful god taking mercy upon her wretched follower, reaching out to reward the years of faithful servitude and worship.

Salvatore, barely able to keep himself calm as he stumbled to his feet, did not grace Mother Miranda’s question with a proper response, instead practically racing to take the woman’s outstretched hand in his own.

“I’m ready Mother… I-I’m ready for... my g-gift now… can I… c-can I have it n-now… p-please?” Salvatore begs, pulling at Miranda’s hand like an overly excited child, seemingly unaware of the disgusted twist of her face when the hooded man’s cold, slimy fingers firmly latched onto hers.

“Of course, my child” Mother Miranda says, pulling her hand back from Salvatore’s and instead placing it along the man’s hunched back, beginning to guide him to wherever it was the raven mother had hidden his gift.

As Salvatore limped next to Mother Miranda, the deformed man couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it was that Mother had gotten for him. Was it a new cloak, to replace the worn one he was currently wearing? Perhaps a new set of romance films so he didn’t have to rewatch the ones he already owned over and over again anymore? Or maybe it was something to help with his digestion?

It would be nice to get his chronic acid reflux under control again.

Regardless of what the gift actually turned out to be however, Salvatore was merely pleased that he was finally getting a chance to spend time with Mother Miranda all by himself for a change.

Maybe, if he was lucky, she’d even agree to hold him, just like she always did back when he was still undergoing cadou treatment.

Oh how wonderful that would be!

[illuminatedquill]

Nevertheless, The Finale (Review)

(We could have had this. We could have had it. God, this hurts to write.) 

Crash landing. 

That’s what comes to mind as I watched the final scene in episode 10 of Nevertheless. We’re here. We made it. 

But not for the better. At some point, the engines burst into flame, the wings fell off, the pilots jumped out and we, the viewers, were forced to put our heads between our knees and endure the worst kdrama ending I have ever seen with my own two eyes in recent history. 

If you’re reading this and haven’t seen the finale yet, I am warning you now: SPOILERS AHEAD. 

For the last time, let’s get into it. 

This is immensely painful to write. I don’t know what happened in the writers room between episode 9 and episode 10, because, how we came to this ending makes no sense. None at all. I spoke at length about it another post a couple days ago regarding the spoilers photos that were leaked; the writers, after having established so much growth in episode 9 for Na Bi, surely weren’t going to just throw it all out the window for episode 10, right? 

Yet, here we are. That’s exactly what happened. 

First off, I want to talk about the visual elements in this episode: it sucked. Normally, Nevertheless cinematography is top tier and always praise worthy and, here, it felt off to me. I wasn’t drawn is as I usually was. Also the pacing dragged for the first thirty minutes as we see Na Bi and Jae Eon deal with aftermath of their “breakup”. It’s not until almost halfway through the episode that it finally picks up with the destruction of her sculpture. 

Jae Eon finds out and vows to help her rebuild it and then leave her alone afterwards. He makes a comment on how she’s at her prettiest when working on her art. Once it’s finished, he leaves her alone, as promised. 

Okay. Good. So far, so good. 

And then, we hit the café scene with Do Hyeok. And my stomach dropped. All that nice, comfortable, affectionate energy that was building between them vanished. Na Bi speaks about her sculpture and how her assistants really helped her (speaking clearly about Jae Eon). 

And I knew. I knew how it was going to end. And so did Do Hyeok. He doesn’t know that Jae Eon is one of her assistants, but I think he guesses by the way Na Bi talks. Na Bi thinks the whole experience was terrible but from the way she talks about it, Do Hyeok points out “maybe you were actually enjoying it the whole time.” Seeing his cheerful smile drop was just crushing. 

Oh, Do Hyeok. They did you so bad in this episode. 

(And WTF do you mean she was actually enjoying it the whole time, writers?! She was freaking miserable for FIVE WHOLE EPISODES. What toxic BS is this? Sweet Jesus, I wanted to punch something so bad.) 

And my outrage at how off the chemistry was between Na Bi and Do Hyeok; it was just so wrong. It felt so forced. 

And then hits just kept on coming. Na Bi brings out the butterfly pendant and puts it on. God, please, no. 

And then. Do Hyeok returns for his second confession scene. And, hoo boy, what Na Bi said made me almost have a stroke: 

Do Hyeok: “Do you still like Jae Eon?” 

Na Bi: “Yes, I think I do. I know he’s not someone who will make me happy. But, I was really happy with the moments I spent with you, Do Hyeok.” 

What. 

What. 

What. 

Na Bi knows that Jae Eon will not make her happy. She was really happy with the moments she spent with Do Hyeok. But she still chooses Jae Eon. 

Does not compute. 

No tears from Na Bi and Do Hyeok as they say goodbye to each other. A simple thank you from Do Hyeok and he walks out, flowers in hand. 

Your childhood best friend who has been loving you unconditionally just confessed and you can’t even muster some tears as you part ways. Like I said, something is wrong here. Seriously wrong. 

(I had to pause the episode and go for a walk around the house to clear my head when I saw this. Like, writers, how the hell does that make sense!)

Na Bi even admits in her confession to Jae Eon that she hates him. But then proceeds to ask him out. 

And that’s it. They go on a date, wearing their respective colors (gag me, please), and that’s it. 

Or, is it? 

Because this show is always good with details. And I noticed something interesting at the end, when they’re walking along, holding hands. 

Na Bi and Jae Eon walk by a restaurant and Na Bi spots Do Hyeok sitting inside. He’s clearly talking to someone, but we don’t see who. 

And, interestingly, Na Bi’s hand almost slips out of Jae Eon’s. There’s a curious expression on her face as she cranes her neck to see who Do Hyeok is speaking with. It’s just a brief moment before Jae Eon pulls her away to continue their walk, and she resumes her hand holding. 

So. There’s that. A potential set up for a second season. I don’t know, don’t ask; nothing’s been confirmed. We’ll see. 

I have to say something - this episode was utter BS. Something weird was going on behind the scenes here, and I can prove it. 

If you watched the preview, like I did, you might have been mistaken in the belief that Na Bi and Do Hyeok were clearly endgame. Why? 

Because she accepted his flowers. The preview shows her walking inside the art gallery holding them, resulting in the lovely photos of them smiling brightly at each other in the above screenshots (the first two). But in the actual episode itself, Na Bi doesn’t accept the flowers and we don’t see the scenes I just talked about. It just cuts straight to her reunion with Jae Eon. 

Do you see what I’m getting at? This isn’t some conspiracy theory. What was shown in the preview and what was shown in the actual episode was completely different. 

They changed the ending. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Do Hyeok and Na Bi were going to be the endgame, and someone forced them to change it to Jae Eon and Na Bi instead. Perhaps for a setup for Season 2 or someone important really, really wanted Song Kang to get the girl this time. 

If it’s setup for season 2, especially coupled with the last scene that suggests that Na Bi’s and Jae Eon’s relationship isn’t going to last (and it’s not, especially if the Fanfic writers have anything to say about it), I’m all for it. Because that means Na Bi and Do Hyeok are endgame. I’ll suffer through another ten episodes if it means that, long as the same cast and team return. 

If not, then, this is the ending. And it’s terrible. 

I know it hurts. But, I just want to remind everyone that this is just one chapter in Na Bi’s life and nothing between her and Jae Eon are guaranteed to last. I wrote a post some weeks ago how, if they really wanted to make these two endgame, then the writers needed to do the work. Show the characters working through their issues to become healthier, happier people and convince me that they could be a solid couple in the long run. 

None of that happened in this episode. Or any of the other episodes proceeding it. Na Bi and Jae Eon spent five episodes just staring at each other and not talking, and then suddenly, a last minute redemption. If there is not going to be a second season, then this is the cheapest, most cop out ending for a kdrama ever. And it really hurts because they really set a high standard for themselves.

Nevertheless promoted itself as a hyper realistic show that wanted to be different from any other kdrama and instead ended up with the most cliche, disappointing finale I have seen in recent memory. What a failure. There needs to be a second season to redeem this dumpster fire of an ending. 

Well, that’s all for now. I’m going to watching some other stuff to cleanse this from my memory. 

I have two more posts planned for this show and then I’m out for good or until they announce a second season. First post - as promised, my character analysis for our “heroine” Yu Na Bi. I wanted to wait until the series finished to really get a take on her character and, well, I don’t think I’m going to be nice. 

And the second post will be an overall review/analysis for the entire drama. All of it; the themes, the acting, the direction, the music, the plot, the writing; the good, the bad, the ugly. 

My condolences to everyone who stuck it through from beginning to end. I’m really sorry you wasted your time. 

As always, I welcome any discussion. Reply here or message me! I always love to hear your thoughts. 

Until next time, everyone. 

[river-bottom-nightmare]

The Nightwing Suit

There are some absolutely incredible artists out here on tumblr, and seeing their fanart makes me cry tears of joy. Dick Grayson, one of my personal favs, is always a wonderful contender for fanart. His innate grace and agility and flexibility translate beautifully on the artistic spectrum. Bottom line: I love all the Nightwing fanart. However, there is something I want to address with his suit. I’ve been an aerialist ever since I was 7 years old, and I’ve taken gymnastics since I was 3. Now, I specialize in Lyra, while Dick obviously specializes in Trapeze, but when it comes to costume, we’ve got many very important similarities.

DON’TS

When it comes to aerial, we want as much mobility and flexibility as possible. So here are some things that absolutely will not be on his suit.

1. Shoulder Pads. I will scream it from the rooftops if I have to. The Nightwing suit WILL NOT have shoulder pads!! Red Hood? Definitely. Red Robin? Those shoulder pads are important for bo staff strength and support. Robin? Damian probably doesn’t need them, but they won’t hurt. Nightwing? No way. To me, one of the most important parts of my body when practicing and performing are my shoulders. They pull me into hangs and holds, let me rotate myself around, and basically support the rest of my body. This is partially due to user preference: I prefer arm-based stunts and hangs rather than leg based. But it honestly doesn’t matter that much. Nightwing will absolutely need 100% use of his shoulders. Him being able to freely rotate them can be the difference between life and death with his style of fighting. Shoulder pads will just hamper that flexibility. I will admit that shoulder pads look badass, but in this one hero’s scenario? Shouldr pads are a no-go.

2. Sleek Arm Braces. Nightwing, while being well recognized as a solo hero, does often work with a team. And on a team, he isn’t the type to huff angrily and say he can do this by himself. Emotionally? Yes, of course. Physically, and in a fight? He takes all the help he can get, with absolutely no would to his pride. When performing his flips and tricks and such, the other partner will grab hold of him by usually his hands or his arms. I’m just going to straight up say: catching someone by their hands is a Bad Idea. You will not believe the speed we travel when we go through the air, and catching by the hands will lead to dislocations and pain. For a few stunts it’s okay, mainly for the visual aspect of a performance. But when it’s life and death combat? Hands are a last ditch effort if you can’t catch someone by the arms. Because that’s what really counts. The forearms. When Dick is fighting with someone, and that other person has the strength to catch him/throw him from a drop or a flip, they will catch him by the forearms. If Dick’s wearing sleek ‘n sexy arm braces, he’s going to slip right out of their grip. I prefer to keep my forearms bare, but in regards to protective armor, the fabric around the arms better have a grip.

3. Extra Fabric. This one is a given. However, I want to get into the specifics. When you’re in the air, momentum is your most powerful ally, and if there’s anything opposing or hindering that momentum, that spells trouble. Extra fabric can sometimes be good, such as around the legs. Not too much, obviously, but wearing loose or baggy pants while fighting with Nightwing’s fighting style works (as long as you can, you know, actually fight in them and not trip over the extra cloth). Around the middle? Nuh-uh, nope. Anything looping around your waist, hips, or rib cage is a liability if it’s not skin tight. The belt that Robin often wears is okay, as long as it’s wrapped pretty tight around him and doesn’t move. For the kind of stunts that Dick pulls off on a daily basis? I don’t think anything but a skintight bodysuit will help. For arms, extra fabric is ~okay~ but not preferable. And anything strapped to his back, as long as it’s securely in place, will actually help his momentum (so his escrima sticks or any other weapon/item you want to put in there is fine). Nothing around the neck, at ALL. That one issue in Batman where Dick wears a scarf is hot as hell, and sort of makes sense because they’re in the desert. But on missions, at the speed Nightwing fights and flies through the air, anything around his neck will choke him. This entire section definitely wasn’t an excuse to say you should just keep Dick in a skintight outfit, nope, not at all.

4. Spandex. While we’re on the subject of skintight outfits, I just want to point something out that isn’t necessarily important or anything. It’s just a general preference for me. I prefer costumes with a little weight on them. The adrenaline rush is intense for some of my more advanced stunts, and those are things that I bet Dick would consider basic. I prefer something with a little substance/weight/texture to it. Nothing too serious, and nothing too restricting, just something to keep me grounded and focused. We all know how much Dick likes being in the air, but I’m willing to bet he also needs a little extra touch to keep his head in the game. So if you’re designing a serious Nightwing suit, not for crack or fun headcanons or anything, I would steer clear from the spandex, gauze, and showy-light-gossamer fabrics. They do provide extra mobility and flexibility, but that’s because they’re one drop away from naked.

5. Joints. Okay this may seem a little contradictory based on the last point, but around the joints, especially hips and shoulders, the protective padding needs to ease up. It’s one of the hardest areas on the body to injure, after all, even for a professional. And second, I know I’m sounding like I’m repeating the obvious, but flexibility is of utmost importance. If the fabric doesn’t bend with Nightwing, then there’s no point. It can’t chafe, it can’t grind against itself, it can’t break. The material around major joints needs to be malleable.

Dos

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s talk about what you can absolutely add to Nightwing’s costume to give it either a little pizzazz, or just your own personal touch.

1. Boots. Yes yes yes, boots are an absolute must! And it’s not just me thinking thigh-high boots are cool. Coming out of a big drop and other major stunts requires rolling on your back and then onto your feet. But Nightwing doesn’t fight with the one-hit-and-done style. (That’s more Jason’s thing. He plants himself like a tree and puts power behind a punch, kinda like Bruce, which is why boots-especially boot soles- are important for them.) Nightwing gets in a punch and flips away, then bounces back and gets in a kick and flips away, then bounces back and gets in another kick and flips away. You see where I’m going with this. Dick is constantly on the move, constantly on the verge of flipping back. The main way he does this is with his feet: landing lightly on the balls of his feet to absorb momentum before using that to hit back. Boots with fricion-specific soles are important, he cannot slide or skid. Also, ones that go higher up aren’t bad either: extra support is always welcome. As long as they don’t cover his knees and allow for ankle flexibility, they’re good to go. They may even help stop ankle dislocation. Anything you want to add to the boots? Go ahead. As long as it’s not gauzy ribbon or something too extra, or something that can easily get caught in something else, it’s good to go. In my performances, I like to cover my shins with something, it can range from simple high socks or performance boots to go with my costume. I particularly like Damian’s long lace up boots, especially in Super Sons. It’s a cute outfit, and it won’t hinder his fighting at all. As long as Dick double knots, he can wear those, and any other variants of boots.

2. Gloves. I’m not actually sure if Dick has ever been called “Fingerstripes” in canon, but I’ve seen it in fanon plenty of times. Regardless, it’s one of my favorite nicknames for him, and it does have a basis. The stripes on his gloves are an awesome artistic choice, and useful too. Assuming they have a different texture than the rest of his gloves, those fingerstripes could help with grip. Grip is one of the most important tools an aerialist can have. I have had grown men look at me with shock when they shake my hand because of my firm grip (and the calluses, ugh). I firmly believe that Dick Grayson has one of the strongest grips in the DC non-meta world, and I bet you he surpasses even a good amount of metas. Having a good, no-slip grip is essential, even if you’re just swinging from the surface for a second, or if the surface is another partner’s hand. Gloves, once again as long as they’re not too restricting, would be awesome with helping with that.

3. Wrist Braces. I said before that Dick can’t have arm braces because of the whole partner-grip thing. But with the amount of force and pressure Dick exerts on his hands on a daily basis, dislocations and sprains should be as common as a bruise. Hell, I’m sitting here typing this and my left wrist is sprained. Fanfic writers, here’s a helpful tip: you can write Dick with a sprained or dislocated or just a plain sore wrist anytime at all, and having him rub his hands with a grimace, rubbing lotion onto them, or doing wrist exercises in his free time is a go-to for if you need anything filler. Or, you know, it could even be part of the plot. Wrist braces help with this, they keep the joints in place and add a little extra stability to his movements. As long as they’re not interfering with wrist mobility, wrist braces are a very very good idea. When you think how long, think about the length of Peter Parker’s handmade web shooters. Long enough to be there, but not immediately noticeable. Also, make sure the material is something cloth, wrap, or gauze based. Anything too hard could scrape against the skin, cause cuts and bruises, and even cut off circulation. Unless it’s armor, it’s not comfortable or easy to do aerial maneuvers with.

4. Back Harness. To be honest, I have no idea what the official name for this piece of equipment even is. But the thing that holds Nightwing’s escrima sticks to his back. The thing that holds Deadpool’s katanas (in the movies, not the comics). The back-strap-harness thingy. That’s a go-for-it when it comes to costumes. Not only does it look badass and hot when it’s on your costume and you draw your weapons from it seamlessly like a boss, it’s practical and doesn’t interfere with your fighting at all. As I said, a majority of Nightwing’s moves rely on momentum. The back harness thingy won’t harm that at all. As long as it’s strapped to your back, unmoving and steady, it stays out of the way and may actually help you with your momentum. Drawing weapons from it is easy and seamless, and one of the quickest moves you can perfect, aside from drawing your weapon from thigh/calf holsters. But as I said before, Dick would probably stick to the back because, once again, momentum.

Okay this got much longer than I thought it would. But regardless, I hope this helps if you’re ever drawing or writing about the Nightwing suit and need specifics. Or hell, if you’re a cosplayer and need some information on how to make an accurate costume, here you go. Now I need to take a breather and chill, because while I considered myself a pretty recreational comic reader and not much of an analyzer, I had no idea how much I picked up about Dick’s individual fighting style and how that fits in with my own aerial experiences.

[appassaddle]

Do you think you’ll ever return to writing avatar fanfics? I really miss your writing!

Hi there dear!

I'm glad to infer that you enjoy my writing :) , but I am a terribly slow writer even at the best of times and very very rarely do I ever publish wips. (I think I've done that only maybe two or three times ever in *squints* ~two decades of writing fic.) ((I like to think the wait is worth it most of the time lol!))

That said, most likely at some point I'd like to finish and publish some of the wips I have, but I can't give a timeline for when the muse strikes! But for some hope, my current document for ATLA related fic snippets/ideas/scenes/etc runs close to 60 pages worth, for as little work as it's seen this year ;).

So, I'm as curious to see as you are nonny, haha!

But, since you worked up the nerve to ask, here's a little snip of some worldbuilding I keep in mind when writing (that hopefully won't get too jossed by the Yangchen novel!):

Avatar Szetzo’s name is commonly invoked by Fire Nation students before exams or tests (or by the more prepared, before studying).

The Earth Kingdom likes to invoke the name of Yangchen, the blessed protector,  the one who battles spirits who mean harm and keeps the peace. He name is muttered under breaths of the worried, the scared, the impatient, accompanied by a touch to the forehead and backs of the hands where her own tattoos had sat. Blessed Protecter, grant me wisdom, grant me patience, grant me peace, in a thousand whispers in a thousand different towns. During the war it fades, the generations without an Avatar growing disillusioned with the idea of such a protector. In the early days, there are some brave souls who make pilgrimages to the Eastern Air Temple, disabling Fire Nation traps and restoring what they can, leaving offerings at the feet of the statues of the Avatar. Ropes of flowers, precious stones, fresh foods, offered in the hopes that it will help guide the lost Avatar to help them, to guide them home. The older generations still look up with hope when the breeze blows particularly well, sending the ribbons or flags flying as if carrying their hopes along with them.

There are some places in the Fire Nation that have an unexpected soft spot for Kyoshi, both for her skill as a fighter and her sense of morals. Sometimes the hand on a blade stills in her name. The small southern island of the Sei'naka clan in particular looks kindly upon her, keeping a small shrine in her name even when it was against the law of the land. Why, they will not explain to outsiders to the island. She is revered not for her fighting prowess, but for her skill in stopping fights, for her healing abilities that would soothe burns and scrapes.

Kuruk’s once good name fell from grace in the eyes of him home in the north. There are only so many ways to argue the case for a brilliant tactician when he fell so far. He is not regarded in Water Tribe circles as a great Avatar- though Kyoshi in her time tried to amend the past as best she could- but he is held in high esteem as a hunter. His spear and hood are given life and stories within the stars, stories of his great hunts told over fires to young men out on the tundra in the deep night. They hold that finding the point of Kuruk’s spear in the night sky always leads back home. He is also well-regarded in circles of pai sho masters, especially those who favor certain gambits, and there are several strategies attributed to him.

There are pockets of islands that favor Roku, but his was most fondly remembered in the southern air temple, as a friend of those who lived there. After his name was all but outlawed form being spoken in his homeland, the monks carve his statue for the Avatar’s hall with care.

The Southern Water Tribe most often invokes the name of Aang, adopted son of their people, beloved of their most favored daughter. His name is used in the name of peace and its keeping. They affectionately call him a waterbending avatar as much as an airbender. The tunes of old airbenders are as easily heard sung in the southern tribe as they work or sail across the sea, coaxing the wind to be favorable to them as they go.

[stygianflood]

Like the Shoreline and the Sea (Ethan x F!MC)

Summary- Ethan is asked out on a date right after Miami in Book 1. Ethan’s PoV

Genre, rating, words- Angst, teen, 2k

Open Heart fanfic tropes- birthday, office.

March Challenge Day 13 prompt Someday; April Challenge Day 9 prompt Smell of the Rain 

A/N: nor’westers-  violent thunderstorms in northern plains of India, before the onslaught of monsoon.

Title inspired by Leonard Cohen’s Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye.

‘This will improve our understanding of adiposity and sarcopenia in this population, help identify thresholds predictive of metabolic risk, and ultimately prevent or ameliorate… ’

Better prevent than ameliorate.

‘...ameliorate the long-term impacts on health and…’ 

Twenty five years should be long enough.

Hers is a singsong voice, the warm, trilling kind. Mellow sun dances on the frills of her dress. The yellow one. 

The man at her side twirls her on the empty kerb. Dips and kisses her. Her laughter is all that is pure and golden.

A child follows them, embarrassed. She bends down to kiss him, and he is furious. 

The scene shifts.

The child is on the front porch, eyes set somewhere beyond the wild bergamot bushes. 

Tear tracks on pink cheeks mingle and dry with dust from his afternoon’s exploits. Something like a steely resolve troops in his eyes.

Ethan Ramsey has been staring at the same sentence for fifteen minutes now.

Whoever coined the term ‘nostalgia’ from the Homeric nostos and algos was speaking of anguish caused by an inability to return. But they failed to discern the inevitable tethering of reminiscence with habituality.

That is more or less the case with him. Louise Ramsey walked out on her husband, and eleven year old son some twenty five years ago right before his birthday. For a very long time now, home is not about apple crisps or kitchen gardens. 

About this time every year, a crevice in his mind he likes to call the amygdala dwells on the same days. 

Almost as a ritual. 

He is a scientist. A rationalist. And like every year, he reminds himself there is work to do.

Unless there’s a knock at the most unpleasant hour.

He never returns to the article. Never manages a come in. The distraction walks in, messy hair knotted with a pencil. Probably because she has lost another hair tie. 

He mustn’t be that aware. 

But she talks too much. 

‘Dr. Mukherjee.’ He sounds gruff. They’re supposed to be redrawing their boundaries, even if he is the only one making an effort. ‘I thought your shift ended-’

‘Two hours ago.’ Rigours of a sixteen hour shift mark her visage. Her smile is a little too conniving for his comfort. ‘I had work afterwards.’ 

She starts shuffling papers on his desk, permission be damned. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and manages an exasperated sigh. Since when have interns started walking into his office with… birthday cakes?

‘What do you think you’re- It’s not my-’

‘I heard rumours that Dr. Ramsey had to cancel a date.’ She sounds amused. He does not miss the split second glance she shoots his way before continuing. ‘On his birthday, too. Such a shame.’

He scoffs.

‘No one knows it’s my birthday.’

‘Oh, they do. They’re just too afraid to… ah, invoke the wrath of Dr. Ramsey.’

Of course, she is not one of them. She has absolutely no regard for the immutable drill he has observed for nearly four decades. And why must she, when her sole intent is to swivel the rusty axis of his life.

Ethan has never known the first shower of an Indian monsoon. It is sudden and torrential, just as it is feared and revered. It smells like summer, and mango blossoms. 

Ethan has never known one until this year.

‘I’m thirty seven, Rookie,’ He manages weakly. 

‘And I would’ve bought the candles accordingly if I knew that.’ 

The tealights she arranges look so much better, he thinks. The cake is a simple blue and white affair. Not the ones that have more icing than cake, he notes. Not the ones he disapproves of.

Happy Birthday, Dr. Terminator

‘I could’ve whipped something up without sugar,’ She rambles, suddenly starting to blush. ‘Or ordered one. But I only just came to know it’s your birthday. And there wasn’t a lot of-

‘Thank you, Apu.’ Tresses of warmth curl about his chest and the gravel of his voice.

Ethan has avoided birthday cakes for a decade now. Unless it’s Naveen’s birthday, he thinks with a pang.

In his time with Harper or his brief involvements in med-school, no one has ever convinced him to do birthdays. He checks himself. This is just an intern being kind.

But interns aren't kind to Dr. Ramsey, are they. 

She assures him the photos are not for social media. They settle on the couch, it’s his first birthday cake in over a decade. 

He is glad for an innocuous reason to look at her, laugh at jokes that in any other company would draw his scorn. She is oddly comforting. Unlike most interns who avoid his office at all costs, she moves about it as if she was meant to be here all along. 

He must have stalled birthdays worth twenty years only to spend it on a couch with her. 

The plates are disposable. It is nothing like the restaurants that come with his status, for there is an endearing simplicity about it. 

It almost feels like… home.

He steals occasional glances at her. It has been four agonisingly long days after their return from Miami. And for all his attempts to redraw their boundaries, it has been a non-return of sorts. 

Aparna drives him to distraction, flouts each and every one of his rules. Seeks him out in supply closets and muddled dreams. And every time he breaks her heart a little more, he finds himself floundering in his own squalor.

The German counterpart to the English ‘nostalgia’ is ‘sehnsucht’. Like ‘nostalgia’, it has the charm of what has been. But unlike it, it also has the enigma of what has never been. Miami will remain the swansong to an ideal that slipped through Ethan’s fingers. 

A surge of anguish ripples through him as he realises all of this is his for the asking, and he will have none of it. 

‘It wasn’t a date,’ He blurts out.

He wouldn’t tell her that if he wants her to move on. Not truly.

‘You don’t have to-’

‘She is Declan’s associate in Panacea. She suggested signing the contract with the Diagnostics Team over dinner tonight. So…  just business.’

Claudette Wilson is the most promising young face of Panacea, and Ethan needed less than a minute to know why. 

Sleek, dark hair styled at her nape played up her high cheekbones. The ruby of her pliant lips, almost risqué for a meeting such as this, always lingered a little longer on the rim of her coffee mug. Even the measured spoons of her laughter came with an all too enticing lilt.

Ethan has met the other type. Vacuous and synthetic. But the steely glint in her eyes came with a weighty intelligence. An unfaltering wit. And when a perfectly manicured hand brushed the contours of his cuff, he knew it was never meant to be just business. 

She was irresistible. And so was he.

That afternoon, the bitterness in his mouth had nothing to do with coffee. He learnt he would refuse Claudette even if her pay checks did not come from Panacea.

Aparna falls silent, almost as if discerning in his words everything he left unsaid.

They have run out of jokes and topics for a harmless chat. He is getting terribly comfortable with her again, he realises alarmed. And she is fidgeting with the ring on her finger.

She’s nervous too. He knows. He could define every twitch and turn of those fingers. 

Somewhere in their conversation they have edged so close that her knee juts into his thigh. The couch is surprisingly small for two people. Minutes pass, and despite himself, he does not want her to leave. 

His fingers rest on her flustered hands, it’s a deep-rooted reflex. Looking down, she weaves his hand in both of her own. Even as the adrenaline surging in his blood incites him to flee, the delirious part of him emerges stronger and more naive.

He thinks she is leaning in. Soaking up the mayhem in his eyes. The slight movement causes wisps of errant hair to slip from the messy bun. There’s new growth around her brows, a faded scar on her forehead. But it’s her eyes that still hold sway over him. 

They stroked him with a strange, silent awe on a balcony on the shores of the Atlantic.

She is nothing like interns that hover around him year after year. Sucking up for recommendations. Sometimes more. She can devour him, and just as easily cast him aside without batting an eye. 

And yet she is here. Snuggled in his office while her friends call it a night with cheap beer and rowdy escapades. 

But she is different tonight. The quiver in her eyes tentative, even wary.

His hand rises of its own accord, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. Inadvertently, it brushes her face, lingers a little longer against her cheek.

She caressed his face as the ocean crashed around him. It was like falling from the top of a precipice. Tumbling into the amorphous, a terrifying weightlessness. He waited.

‘It’s getting late.’

She smells like the hospital, muted shades of honeysuckle, and like herself. 

The cool breeze hummed a steady rhyme against the tumble of her midnight blue dress. Bits of the moon bounced off the dark curtain of her hair, plunging into her eyes. Ethan had never seen such fathomless eyes.

‘I should go.’ She leans into his palm, eyes fluttering close. 

‘You should.’ 

And then she caught him. It was the hollow of her neck. It was soft. Like the rest of her. 

Neither of them move today, silently imploring the other to charge. Or retreat. The battle drum in his chest is a dull ache. Throbbing and inconsolable.

The ridges of her collarbone bore traces of his ruin. Traces she covered every morning and stripped every night, like the rites of a godless liturgy.

His free hand is still laced in hers, the other drawing her face nearer. 

Her lips are inches from his own as he draws a languid finger across them. Her warm breath spills on his lips, warring and mingling with his own ragged ones. 

Her mouth was stained with wine. Numbing and inciting. He was battered, and bruised. Marooned at her side. And she was warm. So warm.

His hand traced the pummelling of her heart, kneading the softness of her chest. Her tongue jousted with his own as the ocean lapped at its shore. Tireless and persevering.

She was wild. Like her Gangetic nor’westers on a sultry afternoon. He was bewitched. She was doing something good to him.

Suddenly the air around them is ripped by the sound of his phone. 

It’s his father.

The two of them recoil to their own spaces, Ethan horrified that he let himself stray so far yet again. Silencing the still erring device, he faces Aparna bracing for another apology.

‘I know.’ 

Her smile is placid, all traces of vulnerability gone. He is vaguely aware of the gentle pressure on the hand still clasped in her own.

‘Happy Birthday, Ethan. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ 

She is gone before he can marshal his thoughts.

Ethan flops back into the couch, shivering and alone. The incandescent glow from the solitary lamp drenches the office in a soft, ethereal haze. She might not have been here at all but for the little things she scatters around him every time she forays into his life.

Today she leaves with him a caesura. It thwarts the cadence of a life he has been putting together since Miami.

After a minute, or perhaps a staggering nightmare, when he rises to pack the rest of the cake, he sees it. 

She must have forgotten her hair tie was in her pocket after all. 

It stares up at him from the floor, the silken, mute witness of his transgression. He gingerly picks it up, and turns it in his hand as though it houses some ancient sorcery. 

Laying it on his desk, he considers texting her. But scarcely does he scroll down to her name when he stops himself. And pockets it. 

Somewhere in the Atlantic, waves still crash upon the rocks, moistening, but never quite lingering. 

The waves are relentless. Someday, the rocks crumble into fine sand.

Thank you for reading this! Let me know if you’d want to be added or removed.

[siren-dragon]

Do Androids Bleed Silver? (Ch.1) -- The Cat Returns fanfic

Hey everyone, I wrote another story and this time it isn’t a one-shot but a chaptered one. Yay! This is my first time doing a sci-fi story, so if it seems a little strange or odd, I apologize but I wanted to get something out before I go on vacation. Anyway, hope you all enjoy it! Also tagging @catsafarithewriter because they have been a wonderful support and inspiration.

Ao3 story link

Summary: Cyberpunk/Android AU

=============================================

‘Next stop; Shibuya Station. I repeat, next stop Shibuya Station.’ The automated voice sounded over the train intercom, ‘please wait until the train comes to a complete stop and stand away from the opening doors before disembarking.’

Looking down at the half-crumbled note in her hand, Haru took hold of her frayed but well-loved duffle bag and stood from her seat. “I guess this is my stop,” she muttered aloud before the exiting the train and out of the station.

In the year of 2207, the use of androids and cybernetics had advance to a level where their use was a common practice and the backbone of modern society; even in her much smaller hometown. But after entering Shibuya Crossing- Haru felt her backwater home was definitely not on the same level as Tokyo. The famed metropolis was well regarded as the forefront of robotics and cybernetics throughout the entire world but the invention of CREATIONS was the achievement that truly put the city into a category all of its own. Though technically possessing a robotics classification, many who’ve had the chance to see a CREATION regarded them as so life-like, it was almost as if their creator had conjured life itself….

And it was part of the reason why Haru wanted to study robotics in Tokyo; as the only robots that her hometown possessed were generic models of the Alpha and Beta-Classes. She wanted to see the daily technological wonders always taking place in Tokyo. But in truth, the real reason Haru wanted to go was because she loved to help others and repair problems. It was why she decided to study robotics and cybernetics in the first place- with the exception of her apparent talent in the field.

At first, many had viewed the cheery but ultimately clumsy brunette to be a bit of a hazard; and it wasn’t exactly a secret to Haru herself either. She could remember constantly stumbling on her impromptu runs to high school after having slept in- or when she once tripped cleaning the trash disposal unit in the classroom and ended up spilling the contents everywhere. But the moment she sat behind the small desk in her bedroom among the clutter of spare parts and tools, her once graceless movements sharpened and Haru would smile as she’d begin to skillfully repair whatever tech the residents of her hometown brought her. So, with the encouragement of Hiromi and Tsuge, she applied for various internships everywhere in Tokyo in the attempt to join someone’s Workshop team.

And it seemed that only one person was willing to give her a chance…

Walking further into the depths of Shibuya Haru gazed in amazement at the 3D holographic displays and looming skyscrapers that was a far cry from her small hometown. The streets were littered with people possessing a variety of enhancements the young woman had only seen before in adverts that managed to be broadcasted back home. Quickly shaking off her awe and hurryingly pulling out her note of directions once more, Haru began the walk away from the train station and towering skyscrapers while weaving her way through the small alleyways, the brunette teenager came to a halt once more on a rather isolated street. Glancing down once more at the paper in her hand, Haru glanced up at the sight before her with a bit of surprise.

“This… is the Bureau?” Haru spoke, looking at the old, neon green sign that flickered slightly with a smaller neon sign saying the Workshop was open beside an open doorway that was partially blocked by a dark noren curtain. Next to what was meant to be the entryway into the shop was a pair of roll-up garage doors- one of which was already lifted up to reveal the illuminated Workshop within. Tools ranging from chisels and wrenches of all sizes to a designated soldering station, making her maple-colored eyes glow with delight.

“If you don’t have any business Chicky, keep walking. This isn’t a museum.” A gruff voice sounded, causing her to jump slightly.

Standing up from beside what, to Haru’s surprise, was an AeroCycle on a hydraulic lift was probably the largest man the young woman had ever seen. He was tall and rather stout with ivory crew-cut hair and a dark stubble about his mouth and chin while dark brown eyes gave her an unimpressed stare as he crossed his arms; with the left being a robotic prosthesis baring a shade reminiscent of a dark coffee. As the man took in her short height, petite frame, and slightly disheveled ponytail; Haru only hoped he didn’t immediately send her back home based on looks alone- after all, she knew her appearance didn’t exactly scream ‘mechanic’.

“Well? Do you have business here or not Chicky?” He asked again, a hint of impatience coloring his tone.

“Sorry sir, my name is Haru Yoshioka… I’m the intern assistant you made the offer to.”

It was here a skeptical eyebrow lifted as his hands soon went to his hips. Haru mentally scrambled for a way to defend her skills should this man end up turning her away, but he only asked one question. “Can you cook?”

“…Yes?” Haru answered, still a little confused.

“Show me; head up there and make something then bring it over. We’ll talk after.” And with that said, the man returned to his work on the AeroCycle without another word.

Haru could only stare with a slightly dumbfounded expression before letting loose a soft sigh and followed his brief and general directions. Up a set of steel stairs lay a large viewing window, which oversaw the garage, and another door that lead into the living quarters that was surprisingly clean; if a bit cluttered. To the left lay a small kitchenette while the right had a simple living room and a corridor that led further into the flat. Turning to the kitchen and figuring not to keep the man who’d likely become her boss waiting, Haru was quick to fix a lunch from a hamburger steak with a fried egg on top and rice (it was either that or one of the instant ramen containers nestled in the pantry) and returned to see the stout man now talking to a customer while gesturing to the AeroCycle. “Next time learn to drive properly bird-brain.”

“And I told you before, lard-ball, it crashed during a chase!” The customer, who was dressed in a police officers’ uniform, snapped in response all the while glaring at the mechanic.

The mechanic merely grinned savagely, as if he was used to the explosive behavior from the officer. “While you were chasing what? A nearby bird.”

“As if you’re one to talk, you over-sized marshmallow. I’m surprised you can even climb the stairs to your flat without them snapping from the strain.”

“You say that again, you big chicken!”

“Umm… excuse me,” Haru spoke up, causing both men to swerve their heads to her immediately. “Is everything alright? I’ve got the lunch ready.”

“Thanks, Chicky, I’ll just take that off your hands.” The larger of the two men spoke, retrieving the succulent smelling meal with a gleam in his eyes, “and congratulations- you pass my test; welcome to The Bureau. The name’s Muta and this idiot here is Bird-Brain, a regular.”

“The name is Officer Toto Tsubame, nice to meet you and please, ignore this fatso.” Toto replied instead, bowing in greeting with a kind smile. “Are you new to the district? You are a bit young to be on your own…”

While Muta was large and hefty, Toto was his complete opposite with a slim frame and long, layered black locks tied into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck; reminding the brunette of a bird’s feathers. His skin was a tad darker than the larger mechanic and his clothes the standard dark navy-blue police uniform with the exception of knee-high shock absorption boots and a black carbon-fiber and titanium woven shirt that rested under the uniform with the cuffs rolled to his elbows. But what truly caught Haru’s attention was the unique dark-grey coloration of his eyes that she had only seen a few times before in holo-books or advertisements. “Oh wow, you have an optical upgrade on your eyes, I’ve never seen that before. That’s really cool…”

Here Toto gave a good-natured laugh, “you’re definitely new to Tokyo if this is your first time seeing something like that, but well spotted. My eyes have been altered with increased monocular vision and can see with UV and Infrared, alongside night vision. Plus, the color is a rather nice aesthetic as well- but that’s enough about me; what brings you here to the city Miss…”

“Haru. Haru Yoshioka, and it’s nice to meet you too.” She smiled, giving a bow of greeting in return. “I am here for an intern job at the Bureau. But, I’m not sure what cooking really has to do with robotics and engineering.”

Muta bit into the hamburger steak and sighed happily as he devoured the plate of food while Toto groaned at the mechanic’s table manners; or lack thereof. “I didn’t want some assistant who couldn’t take care of themselves, I’m not a babysitter. Besides, if you weren’t skilled enough to be here, I wouldn’t have offered you the job in the first place.”

“O-Oh, thank you.” Haru beamed, more than relieved that though he seemed to be rather rough and intimidating, Muta wasn’t that bad- arguing with Toto aside. “I promise I’ll do my best, and thank you for your help Moo-ta.” Haru quickly gasped, raising her hands to her mouth in horror as if attempting to prevent the words from being heard, but it was too late.

“What?! Did you just say Moo? Like I’m some kind of fat cow!”

“No, no, you’re just fat! Oh- um…”

Toto, meanwhile, had lost all pretense of professionalism and started laughing with tears of amusement threatening to spill from his eyes. “Bahahaha! Oh, you’re going to fit in here quite well with nicknames like that Haru. I’m definitely going to be using that one.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up bird-brain.” Muta grumbled, glaring at the still chuckling policeman, “and you Chicky- you got anything to say for yourself or to me, your boss?”

Haru gave a nervous smile, “I’m sorry Muta, it really did slip out. Would you accept an Insta-Pudding with my apology?”

The ivory-haired man stared down at her with an irritated look before sighing, “make it an Angel Cake from Osono’s bakery down the street, and we’re even.”

“Coming right up!” The young woman chimed before quickly making her way toward the aforementioned bakery.

Toto and Muta both watched her leave with the former giving a thoughtful hum, “Yoshioka huh? I don’t suppose she wouldn’t happen to be related to Hayata Yoshioka, would she?”

“His daughter apparently, if you’re that curious. And she’s only a few good years younger than you and me, idiot.” Muta answered, releasing the AeroCycle from the hydraulic lift while wiping the oil and grease from his hands. “I didn’t know he had a kid, and thought the name was just a coincidence till I saw the resume file Haru and her friends sent me. She was apparently fixing Alpha-class mechs at 11 years old.”

Toto gave an impressed whistle, “well, she’s certainly her father’s daughter if that’s the case.”

"I thought that too, but it was the fact that she has no personal cyber-enhancements that really sealed the deal." Muta added, that information causing the slim police officer to splutter in shock. "So I thought ‘why not?’ and decided to give her a shot; and it wasn’t like I was going to turn down the help- so here we are. But the fact that she can cook is a definite bonus.”

“Do you ever not think from your stomach?”

“Shut up, bird-brain!”

Toto sighed, “well, just try to keep an eye on her, alright? Not everything is exactly safe here, so if you ever need anything give me a call.”

“Thanks… you big chicken,” Muta answered before giving a devious grin and holding out his hand. “Now for the repairs, that’ll be 3,500 credits.”

“What?! That’s daylight robbery!”

“Is that so? And here I was giving you the ‘Friends and Family’ discount. But if you would rather pay full-price, who am I to deny you that.”

By the time Haru returned to the Workshop, she could hear Toto and Muta starting to argue once more and was glad she decided to buy two cakes in order to pacify both parties. Though slightly nervous about her new job, Haru couldn't help the feeling of joy at the upcoming work ahead of her.

[dayseternal-blog]

If you ever finish answering all of yours awaiting asks...

45 questions for you 👀

https://myaekingheart.tumblr.com/post/650107314353897472/fic-writer-ask-game

Lolllll BADLUCKBREBIS, you are so funny.

Inspiration and Reading Asks:

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

It looks like I started writing in 2017. I've been reflecting recently on how there are so many regularly active writers now compared to in 2017-2018. It was the tail-end of some of my fave writer's activity within fandom. Utsus was posting less and less. The Tumblr NaruHina fandom seemed to disappear, a whole community of writers left for other things (matchaball, nekomamoru, magmawrites, cherryjutsu, spyder-m, tenney-shoes, eliphya, among others). 2018 was a very quiet year, but! I avidly read katarinahime and bunnyhoodlum's works! In 2019, quirrrky restarted things with NaruHina Week!

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

Recently I’m primarily a reader!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Because there's so many writers now!!!!!!!!

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do?

Yeah, let’s list them.  “A Special Friend” by agitosgirl inspired “Nightdreams.  “Medicine” by @grimmjowkurosakidrake​ inspired “White Lilies.  “Torch Song” by @mmmbuttery inspired “About You.”  The language in “Unless the World Were to End” by @bunny-hoodlum​ inspired the language in “That was the plan.”  “In Between Drinks” by @peppercornpress inspired “In Between Drinks NH.”

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

“Operation: Bring Home Naruto” by Dragonwannabe - Rated T, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata's been assigned the mission of getting Naruto back home safely after his last dangerous assignment. But can she handle the undercover identity as his girlfriend that she’d been given without revealing her true feelings for him?

“The Mission” by Lunawraythe - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. It wasn't that Hinata never expected to work with Naruto, just never on a mission quite like this.

“The Loving Type” by @peppercornpresses - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. A few years have passed since the Fourth Shinobi War, in which...Rookie Nine steadily advances in rank. Naruto gets engaged. Hinata leaves Konoha. And Kakashi schemes for days.

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

ahhh.  I do have quite a few pet peeves.  If the fic is Canon-Compliant or Canon-Divergent, I expect Naruto and Hinata to behave like Japanese people.  Say what you want, but the Naruto Universe is definitely Japanese in my book.  So that means no shoes in the house.  Nothing rattles me more than reading Hinata taking her sandals off before climbing into bed.  Like, what?  she was wearing her outdoor shoes indoors this whole time??

mmm... another pet peeve is when the writer describes Hinata in a kimono, but it sounds like an American Halloween costume, like the slutty version, instead of an actual kimono.

mmm... and the other big pet peeve I have is when it’s Hinata’s first time eating ramen because Naruto is showing her the wonders of ramen.  lol.  why.  how.  in what world would a Japanese person make it to their teenage years without ever eating ramen.

I have a bunch of other little pet peeves regarding Japanese culture in fanfics.  But in general, it doesn’t stop me from reading the fic if I'm already in the middle of it.  I’ll continue reading it and will probably recommend it to other people anyway. If I can tell based on the summary, then it's not for me, and I don't read it. If this makes anyone feel nervous about writing fanfiction, that's not my intention! I would also be happy to be a sensitivity reader if necessary.

6. How do you find new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction?

I primarily read fanfics on AO3 and ffnet.  I find new ones by constantly checking the Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto tag on AO3 or looking into a writer’s favorites list on ffnet.

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics?

Short fics.

8. How often do you reblog/comment on fics that you like?

I reblog pretty often. I don't comment as often as I used to😕 I used to comment on every fic I liked.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.

Uhh?? Idk. I think recently the writing group here is pretty tight, everyone seems to know everyone.

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

Naruto fandom and NaruHina.

Fanfiction Writing Asks:

11. How do you come up with your fic titles?

I usually take it from words used in the story or from the prompt.

12. Tell the author your favorite fic title of theirs (not the fic, strictly title). Author: what’s your favorite title you’ve come up with and why?

I think...maybe "Tell Me of Forevers" or "Nightdreams." I like those because they aren't taken word-for-word directly from the story, but touch on a theme in the story.

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

Yes, I outline. They wouldn't get a headache, I think. It's usually just a summary.

14. Do you have a personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not?

Nope. I didn't know people do that.

15. Tell the author your favorite fic of theirs. What’s your (the author’s) favorite fic you’ve written?

My favorite fic continues to be "It's No Secret."

16. Do you research for your fics? If so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you gone down by accident when researching?

Yes, I do. I've done historical and folktale research for "Little Samurai." I did area/location research for "Last Chance." I did historical research for "About You." I did fairy tale research for "Catskin." I did a ton of astronomy research for "The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl." And I did lighting research for "Inspo." I go pretty deep.

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback?

I don't. I usually have something else I need to do or I go to bed.

18. Do you have a WIP that you keep telling yourself you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably a lie?

I actually think I can finish all of mine if I just try.

19. Do you edit your fics after you write them, or do you prefer to just hit post and run (because it’s someone else’s problem now)?

I always edit before posting to AO3. Anything I post directly on Tumblr might not be edited.

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Posting!

21. What’s your least favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Starting a new chapter.

22. Do you take fic requests? If so, for what characters and why?

On occasion. If someone sends me a request, I'll think about writing it. Sometimes I do write and post it, sometimes I leave them in my drafts for a better day.

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

From what I already have posted, probably friends-to-lovers, secret relationship/forbidden love, or high school au. I don't think I have an intentional favorite.

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?

Public humiliation / public degradation.

25. Do you listen to music as you write? If possible, link your writing playlist.

No, not usually.

26. What’s your biggest distraction when writing?

Tumblr feed, all the pictures to scroll through mindlessly.

27. Do you like to give your readers some warning of what might be coming or just slap them in the face with content at random?

lol, whatever is fine.

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

Well, pressure to update is not a big deal to me. I do this for fun, so I don't think I unnecessarily pressure myself too much. With negative comments, I don't get too many of those, and I think I do my best to avoid situations where I might get negative feedback.

29. Have you ever written for an exchange or event of some kind? Which one(s)? Did you enjoy it?

Yeah, I like the events. My favorite was NH2020, the year-long one last year. I also enjoyed the Secret Santa last year since @badluckbrebis was my giftee.

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

haha😈

Ecstasy slides through his veins, blooming over his mind, cocooning him in pleasant sensations, cum shooting out in eager twitches against hot, milking flesh.

31. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

Naruto Uzumaki, always.

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from?

Top 3 faves in order:

That was the plan: "She shifts in his arms, and cloth and cleavage come pillowing up to his face, and he’s certain that she’s scooped from the same puffy stuff his adolescent daydreams were made of."

Tell Me of Forevers: "What he wouldn’t do to inspire every blush, every smile of hers for an eternity when such moments already only speak “forever” to him."

White Lilies: "Whether at his feet, in his eyes, ears, mind, if not reaching his heart, she never landed anywhere. (It’s okay.)"

I consider "White Lilies" to have my technically best writing, so it was kind of hard to choose just one line from that fic! But I decided that one's my favorite line from the whole story.

33. What do you like writing better: one shots or multi-chapter stuff?

One-shots.

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is?

A lot of my life experiences are in my writing. Hmm, I think readers probably think I'm...hmm...either empathetic or really perverted?

35. How much has writing fic changed your life?

I spend a lot less time on real-life social media than before.

36. Are there any fics or fandoms you’re embarrassed to have written or been part of?

I'm kind of embarrassed of "Honeymoon at the Hot Springs" lol. It's fine.

37. Give an update on your current WIP - if you don’t have one, give a sneak peek to a title or idea that you have and would like to write.

My current WIP is that A/B/O fic I started for February Smut Month Prompts: Sweet as Candy or Love Bites. I'm going to title it "Sweet As," and it'll be about how Naruto and Hinata become Alpha/Omega mates. It's really kinky, really smutty, and totally what I would want to read.

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?

uhh???? a 1?? I've never once thought of my writing process as chaotic. Ahh, then I think of bunnyhoodlum's multiple drafts for the same chapter, and I realize that there exist types of writing processes that I would not be able to handle...

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

My smut.

40. How did you come up with the idea for [x fic]?

41. What’s your most popular fic (with the most notes on tumblr, most hits/kudos on ao3)?

Idk about Tumblr,,, maybe White Lilies got the most attention here. My most popular fic is Nightdreams on AO3.

42. Asker: pick three of the author’s works. Author: rank them 1 (the best) - 3 (the worst) based on whatever criteria you want - this could be something totally random that isn’t quality related (like simply ranking fics based on how many trains appear in them) - have fun!

43. Talk about a positive experience with fanfiction or the fanfiction community that you will always remember.

I will always remember how people congratulated me for finishing White Lilies😭 Also, when peppercornpresses made that FIRST art of my story, I just, I just stared at it all day.

44. Rant about something writing related.

hmmm, I don't feel like ranting about anything. I just recently ranted about my pet peeves above.

45. Fic specific questions - if you have any weird questions about specific works, here’s your shot to ask them!

I did them all! Nice questions.

[ultranos]

is it okay to ask for more elaboration on the southern water tribe sister orca and brother wolf? and how either gender gets to choose about that? (also do you think theres any difference for nb tribe members?)

Sure! It’s going to be elaborated on a bit more in-story, but I can certainly expand on it now since that won’t happen for awhile.

(Small note on why I chose to go with the Latin name of the animal, which is a reference to a Roman god and normally makes no sense in-universe: For one, I wasn’t happy with using “killer whale”. I’m aware that there are many Indigenous peoples who hold the orca in high regard, such as the Haida, Yupik, Tlingit, Inuit, Inupiaq, and Ainu. Considering the names in Avatar, I debated long and hard on the use of the word “Blackfish” for this part of the worldbuilding. I ultimately decided against it and went with the Latin because “Blackfish” felt far closer to accidentally insulting someone’s real-world beliefs. I care if I hurt someone alive right now, not some long-dead Roman.)

The dual-nature comes from legends of the akh’lut, which has the form of an orca at sea and a wolf on land. There are also tales from other peoples where orcas appear as wolves in winter and vice versa. Both are animals that are known for their family groups. Since one of the key parts of what I wanted for SWT culture to have was a deeply-rooted sense of community, holding these two as examples felt apt. Orcas are extremely matrilineal, while wolves (despite what debunked pop sci would like to tell you) form packs around a nuclear family, so that’s why those warriors who choose to go out to the sea are said to follow “Sister” Orca.

I’ve listened to numerous interviews with queer Indigenous people, including Alaska Natives and Native Americans, and one very commonality is that gender was a much more fluid concept before Western (and Christian) contact. That coupled with how devastated the SWT has been, I had a hard time picturing them as hung-up on strict gender roles as the NWT is in canon or in fanfic. When you’re in survival-mode, you do what jobs you must to keep yourself and your community alive.

This has always been a bit of a point of contention between the SWT and NWT in the s&a verse, even before the Fire Nation attacked. The Water Tribes have a relationship with “duality”: push and pull, Tui and La, black and white, north and south. The SWT has come to believe both can exist in a person. Therefore, there’s nothing that weird about a boy tending to children or a girl learning to fight or a child declaring that they are neither boy nor girl. These are things that happen.

There’s also the idea that humans are not above the rest of nature, and instead are an equal part. Addressing them as “Brother” and “Sister” is less about gender roles and more about acknowledging this relationship with the land and the ecosystem. It also reflects how both wolves and orcas have taught the SWT to survive, such as where to find food, where good water is, when Fire Nation ships are coming (whales can detect ship traffic from hundreds of miles away).

[maddrmatt]

A Beautiful Future: A Premonition or a Punishment?

New to this fanfic? Click here to properly begin!

Greetings, readers and fellow SoKai fans!

Time for a certain Princess of Heart to take the spotlight in this story!  

Fair bit of warning though, I sort of used this chapter to showcase a few headcanons and speculations regarding the future of the series.  

Also, there’s a little challenge within this chapter that you can take on if you wish.

Enjoy!

________________________________________________________________

Chapter 3: Writings of a Princess

Land of Departure

Dear Sora,

I know it’s been a while since I last wrote to you.  I haven’t really had anything really important to tell you since I came here.

Now something incredible has just happened and I had to tell you first before anyone else.  But before that, here’s a few updates on what’s been happening on this side of reality.

I’m still training hard.  No offense to Merlin, but I think I’m getting way better with my Keyblade training under Master Aqua than him.

My days here at the Land of Departure are filled with learning various fighting techniques or improving my magic skills.  And to test them, I often spar with Aqua, Terra or Ven.  One day, I might even get a perfect score against one of them in our matches.

All of three of them and Chirithy have been very good to me. They’ve really made me feel like part of their family.

But as great as it’s been with them, they’re no true replacement for everyone back home.  I miss everyone:  Mom, Dad, Selphie, Wakka, Tidus, Riku, and you.  Especially you.

Sorry, Sora.  It’s just so hard every day knowing that you’re trapped in that fictional world.  I really wish I could’ve gone there with Riku to save you.  But after being out of action for a year and the fact that I couldn’t even land a single blow on that memory of Xehanort, I knew it was the better choice to stay behind and train even if I didn’t like it.

I really hope Riku finds you soon.  We’re all so worried about both of you.  Since nobody really knows anything about this Quadratum place, we’ve all thought Riku was a little hasty in just taking off there alone.

We still haven’t heard anything from Mickey yet either. Hopefully, he’ll come back soon from Scala Ad Caelum, and he’ll have found something we can use to help you and Riku.  Until that happens, all the rest of us can do is wait.

Anyway, time to tell you the real reason for this latest letter, Sora. And you are not going to believe what it is.  I can hardly believe it myself.

Last night, I had a dream.  It was actually the first dream I’ve had since I came to the Land of Departure.

Not that I’ve minded not having dreams just in case they ended up being recreations of my worst memories.  I’ve already watched you vanish twice.  I don’t think I could bear to watch it happen again in my dreams.

But the dream I had was nothing like that at all.  It was of a wedding, Sora.  Our wedding.

It was an amazing sight.  It was in this gigantic chapel that looked like it was in Radiant Garden, and it was filled with all your friends from around the worlds.

Many of our fellow Guardians of Light and closest friends made up our wedding party.  It was hardly a surprise to see Selphie as my maid of honor or Riku as your best man.

You looked so handsome in the suit you were wearing.  And judging from the stunned look on your face when you saw me coming down the aisle, I must’ve looked pretty beautiful to you.

It was truly incredible, Sora.  It felt so real and so wonderful.  I wished it never ended.

But, unfortunately, as it is with dreams, we all have to wake up eventually.  And when I did, the happiness I felt ended up giving way to other emotions as I reflected on the dream.

First of all, I felt a little confused.  As good as that dream was, I couldn’t help but wonder why I had it at all.  I mean, wouldn’t you find a little strange to have a dream about a wedding especially since we haven’t even had our first kiss yet?  It’s kind of rushing things a little.  

But don’t get me wrong, Sora.  I know, deep down in my heart, how we truly feel about each other. I wouldn’t have shared that paopu fruit with you otherwise.  And when the time is right for it, the idea of getting married to you is something I will embrace wholeheartedly.

So, I thought more about the dream and believe it or not, I started to think that it was not merely just a dream.  I wonder if what I saw was our future.  It definitely did feel like that since there were so many unfamiliar parts in it.  

For example, I had no idea there was a tradition in Radiant Garden weddings for the bride and groom to crown each other with symbolic flowers.  Then again, I could have known that if the knowledge came from a memory from when I lived there.  Maybe I attended a wedding there when I was young.

But what really stood out to me and made me believe that this could be our future was the many unfamiliar guests.  I knew that because I’ve been studying the details of your last two journeys from Jiminy’s Journal and the Gummi Phone.  And even though the Journal of your first journey was erased (Naminè’s still really sorry about that), I still remember everything about it from being in your heart through it all.

So, I was able to recognize who you had met and who were strangers. They were far too numerous to mention. But here are some examples that really stood out to me.

A tall woman with long black hair wearing a tan colored dress and a beautiful turquoise necklace with a raccoon, a dog and I think I saw a hummingbird flittering around her.

A pair of robots, one yellow and box-shaped, the other white and cylindrical, who were holding hands.

A couple that consisted of a redhaired woman and blonde-haired man who appeared to have some kind of hairless rodent on his shoulder.

A teenage boy and girl along with a younger boy and a company of animals such as a bear with gray fur, a panther, an elephant with a tuft of brown hair and a quartet of vultures.

A large family that appeared to be a mix of humans and skeletons along with a very colorful winged dog and a giant winged cat.

A boy with red hair (whose head looked triangular) along with another boy with green hair and a bunch of other teenagers as well as some kind of strange teal animal that looked like a cross between a duck and a beaver and a man with brown hair, poor posture and wearing a lab coat (who wears that to a wedding?).

A princess dressed in a beautiful green gown accompanied by a prince in a green suit with a blonde woman dressed in pink, a short old woman dressed in white and wearing sunglasses and a snake around her shoulders as well as an alligator who was carrying a trumpet.

A very unusual group consisting of two men and a woman with blue skin and pointy ears along with a dog-sized dragon, a centaur, and a winged lionlike creature with horns and a scorpion’s tail.

A girl with bushy brown hair among what appeared to be a family of giant frogs.

A woman dressed like she was some kind of islander with a burly man with numerous tattoos (I think I saw one of them move) over his body along with a pig and a chicken that didn’t look very smart.

A family who seemed to be some kind of royalty consisting of a princess in a simple green dress with long curly red hair along with three identical boys with the same kind of hair, their big, strong father with a peg leg and their very elegant mother.

A boy and a girl who looked like they were twin siblings who were accompanied by a pair of old men who looked like twins as well.

A redhaired boy in the company of a group of what looked like various human-sized bugs.

There were so many more, but I think I’ll stop here.  With the large number of guests at this wedding, I could go on listing them for a long time.  But it does seem there’s a lot more friends for you in the future.

Unfortunately, while I was mulling over the dream further, a horrible thought came to me.  I started to wonder if the dream, as beautiful as it was, wasn’t meant to bring me happiness at all because it was actually showing the future that we could have had but now would never have.  And the true reason of it was to punish me for my failures in the fight against Xehanort.

I know you wouldn’t like to hear this, Sora.  But there are still days where I can’t help but feel responsible for your disappearance and think that if I had made some different choices, you’d still be here.

I know it was my choice to fight alongside you because I wanted to keep you safe the same way you’ve always done for me.  But looking back, I now see it was foolish to assume that my training alongside Axel would turn me into a Keyblade wielder on yours or Riku’s level. And it was probably an even worse idea for a wielder with very little actual battle experience to go from basic training to a high stakes battle with nothing in between.

We may have been desperate to stop Xehanort before he went after the New Seven Hearts especially since he had already assembled all his darknesses. But we probably could’ve and should’ve explored some other options instead of going to fight the Organization right away after you woke Ven.

Since Ienzo told us that they had a replica body ready before we even left for the Keyblade Graveyard, we could’ve gotten Roxas or maybe even Xion out of your heart before the fight.  In Axel’s words, they were the old hands when it came to Keyblades.

We also could have made a bigger effort to find and save Terra first even if our chances were pretty low.  That would not only have gotten us a more experienced wielder, but it would’ve also lowered Xehanort’s ranks by one.

Maybe if we had done things that way, we would’ve had more experienced Keyblade wielders to fill out the Seven Guardians of Light.  And even if it would be disappointing to be put in the reserves, it would’ve been worth it if it led to you being safe.

So, those are the reasons I believed that dream was a punishment. But you’ll be glad to know, Sora, that I only entertained those beliefs briefly.

After thinking it over some more, I decided that it didn’t matter what that dream’s purpose was.  Comfort or punishment, I’m going to actually use it to serve my own purposes instead.

I’m going to let it remind me of what my ultimate goal is and drive me to be the best Keyblade wielder I can be.  One that’s going to make the forces of darkness think twice before causing trouble and one that you and Riku will be proud to have fighting alongside you.  And hopefully, that will lead us to a future like the one in the dream or at least one that’s pretty close.

In fact, after seeing that dream, I think I may end up actually proposing a couple of ideas to Aqua and Master Yen Sid.  I’ve been thinking about them a lot and maybe now is the time to try to put them into action.

Since I need to get some real battle experience to become a stronger Keyblade wielder, I’d like to go on a journey throughout the worlds to gain some. Hopefully, Aqua will think it’s a good idea.  And even though there’s been little sign of the Heartless and Nobodies since Xehanort’s defeat, there is one thing I really wish to do.

I’d like to try to find and identify the remaining three of the New Seven Hearts.  After all, who’d better to find them than someone who’s part of the same group?  And if we knew who they were and what their home worlds were, we’d be in a better position to protect them if someone tried what Maleficent and Xehanort did.

Who knows?  Maybe all those unfamiliar faces at the wedding were not only friends you’ll make on future adventures, but ones I’ll make on my own adventures.  Maybe even the remaining New Seven Hearts were among them.

I also have an idea that may be able to help in the quest to bring you home. If Fairy Godmother could bring me back to the Final World, I could talk to that girl from Quadratum again.  She may not be able to remember certain things. But she might be able to tell us something about that world that could help.  

Naminè might even be able to help with this plan.  Even if you only met that girl briefly, that may be enough for her to be considered connected to you and therefore, Naminè’s memory powers can work on her.

Hopefully, the Masters will think that these are good plans.  I really want to do any part I can to not only help bring you and Riku home, but also to protect the worlds as both a Keyblade wielder and a Princess of Heart.  After all, with you two gone, someone’s got to pick up the slack.

Well, I think that’s enough for now.  It’s nearly time for breakfast and then it’s training until lunch.  But before I go, there’s just one final thing I’d like to say.

Whether that beautiful dream shows a wonderful future that is meant to be or not, it doesn’t matter.  Because the only kind of future I’ll ever wish for is one in which we’re safe, we’re happy, and we’re together.  That’s all I really need.

See you soon,

Kairi

________________________________________________________________

Much later, the training hall in the Land of Departure was filled with the sounds of clashing Keyblades and various shouts of magical invocation.  While those sounds were nothing uncommon in that location, there was an unusual intensity that day.

As Aqua, Ven and Chirithy watched, a heated sparring match was taking place between Kairi and Terra.  But much to their surprise, the more experienced Keyblade wielder was actually struggling as the young rookie was keeping him mostly on the defensive.

“Wow!  Kairi’s on fire today!” exclaimed Ven.

“She is, indeed,” concurred Chirithy.

“Well, she has improved a lot in her skills since she came here.  But you two are right.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this driven before,” said Aqua.

“You’ve got that right, Aqua.  If she lands one more hit on Terra, this’ll be the first time she’s won by a perfect score,” said Ven.

As the match went on, Terra blocked blow after blow from Kairi.  Then, strangely, she ceased her attack.

Terra saw his opportunity and charged toward her with a downward slash. The Princess dodged to the right narrowly avoiding the hit.

“Light!” she cried out as she fired a small but powerful Light spell at Terra’s side.  He grunted as the magic struck him and knocked him off his feet.

“Point to Kairi,” declared Aqua.

“That’s three to nothing!  Kairi wins!” exclaimed Ven as Chirithy clapped its paws together.

“Well done, Kairi,” said Aqua.

“Thank you, Master Aqua,” Kairi said as she walked over to Terra and helped him up.  

After exchanging bows with each other, the Princess of Heart said, “I hope that didn’t hurt you too badly, Terra.”

Terra chuckled.  “Not at all.  It helps that you’ve learned how to restrain your magic during training.  But I’ve got to say, Kairi that I am impressed. That’s the first time since you’ve come here that I’ve been unable to land a single hit on you.”

“You’ve certainly come a long way, Kairi.  Today, you showed some truly exceptional skill and strength.  You should be very proud of yourself,” said Aqua as she, Ven and Chirithy approached.

“Well, I’ve had a good teacher and some great sparring partners.  But I think it really helped that when I woke up today, I just felt a little extra drive,” said Kairi.

“Yes.  We noticed,” said Aqua.

“Why is that exactly?” asked Chirithy.

A certain smile came to Kairi’s face which caused her four friends to exchange knowing looks.  They had spent plenty of time with her by now to know what exactly brought out that special smile of hers: thoughts of a certain someone close to her heart.

“I had the most amazing dream.”

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Notes from the Mad Doctor:

I thought the best way for Kairi’s spotlight chapter would be to do in the style of one of her letters to Sora.  I’ve used it before as readers of my big fic Kairi’s Epic Journey would know.

So, in case it wasn’t obvious, the challenge I mentioned at the start is that list of unknown guests.  It was quite a challenge to write all those characters by description alone.  I hope you all will take a shot at identifying them. Some are pretty obvious, but some may be a little more difficult.

I hope I did a good job in trying not to make this chapter’s narrative too similar to the previous chapters.  I actually tried having Kairi leap to the punishment notion before the premonition notion.  But unfortunately, the flow didn’t work right.

Fortunately, the views on the punishment notion are a little different. Sora has absolutely no regrets for what he did and believes that he’s being unfairly punished for breaking rules he had no idea existed.  Kairi, however, believes her punishment is deserved since she blames herself for what happened to Sora.  Fortunately, both are able to use that dream to keep on fighting.

I hope you all aren’t put off that this is more like a series of one-shots centered around a certain plot device (the wedding dream) instead of a congruent storyline.  That was what this project ended up being.

I give my thanks to whoever reads this chapter.

I also give my special thanks to @fandomchanger, @flynn-science​, and @ladylucky​ for their likes on the previous chapters as well as @sokaiweek, @phoenix-downer, and @the-secret-place​ for reblogging the previous chapter.

Comments, likes and reblogs are much appreciated!  Stay tuned for what comes next because it’s going to be a real feel-good chapter!

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Onto the next chapter!