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x-infernhoes-x · 3 years

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Honeysuckle- Yamato “Matt” Ishida x Reader

[gif by ydotome]

Title: Honeysuckle

Genre: Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Rom-com elements, Mutual Pinning

Warning(s): Cussing, slight adult themes, mentions of past trauma and parental issues/divorces, SPOILERS FOR DIGIMON TRI AND DIGIMON: LAST EVOLUTION KIZUNA, implied smut in the last part oOP, everyone is of age (ASIDE FROM IORI AKA CODY BC HE’S 17) bc this takes place in Last Evolution Kizuna, two idiots realizing their feelings for each other in the long run

Pairings: Mimi Tachikawa/Koushiro ‘Izzy’ Izumi, Sora Takenouchi/Taichi ‘Tai’ Yagami, Ken Ichijouji /Miyako ‘Yolei’ Inoue, Yamato ‘Matt’ Ishida/Reader, Hikari Yagami/Takeru ‘TK’ Takaishi, mentions of Mimi Tachikawa/OC, Meiko Mochizuki/OC and mentions of Yamato ‘Matt’ Ishida/Sora Takenouchi

Description: This is my first time writing for one of my childhood fandoms, Digimon. I used to write this silly fanfic of Digimon Frontier back when Quizilla was a thing when I was about 10 or 11 called Cherry Blossom Moonlight (*GAGS*) but yeah it’s my first time writing for our OG resident lone wolf, Yamato ‘Matt’ Ishida and all that jazz after watching Last Evolution Kizuna. So yeah! This is based and inspired by me ranting my feelings about Matt to @aeonghaseyo on FB and my best friend, Lucy along with this particular Lux Botanicals body wash we have LMAO. This would be a four-part ficlet that’s going to be like a drabble and all but yeah, I hope you guys enjoy it! P.S. (Y/N) is your name, (D/P) is your digimon partner!

I- Can’t Sleep Love

Out of the Digi-destined, you were never the type to call up people in the dead of night, especially if all of your other friends were busy with their own lives so why the hell did you think calling up at least 5 or more of them to your house at midnight? Usually, you would’ve called at least one or two of them if they were free or shoot them a text out of the group chat’s reach, write about it on your journal or let alone talk to your Digimon partner about it but you were pretty sure that they were starting to get tired of it despite their instances that it was fine. But after writing down what you feel in your journal just as you had considered doing so, you caved in and you were lucky that all of them were free.

So now here you were, sitting inside your house’s dining room in nothing but a shirt that says ‘Know Your Worth’ and a pair of navy blue yoga pants and a pink cat headband on your head to keep your hair from sticking to the charcoal peel-off mask you had on your face. It was embarrassing really, calling up at least 6 of your closest friends at this time of night just to talk about the group’s resident lone wolf, Yamato ‘Matt’ Ishida, and your feelings towards the said male. In all honesty, you and Matt had been friends since your trip to the digital world, although the two of you shared some similarities, you were still different like day and night, you could’ve said both of you were like fire and ice but that’s more on with him and Taichi. Out of all of the chosen kids within your circle, the only ones who knew of your harbored feelings towards the elder of the Ishida-Takaishi siblings happened to be Mimi, Miyako, Taichi, Meiko, Izzy, Willis, and by extension, Ken because of his girlfriend, Miyako and finally, TK (Honestly, the kid was the first to know among you all and he would often tease you about your not so little crush on his older brother and it was even more of a pain in the ass about it when he got older? At least you got back at him when you found out that he has a crush on Kari. The kid thought he could escape, huh?)

Taking a deep breath, you then faced your friends, all of them eager and curious about what you have to say as you finally spoke, “I know that this is unexpected for me to call you guys over on such short notice and I know that some of you are busy with your own lives and all.” The moment you had said that your eyes seemed to land on both Mimi and Izzy, the busiest ones out of the bunch before continuing, “But I just really need to talk to someone about well….” Unable to find the right words, your partner quipped in from beside you, munching on the pack of Fita Crackers both of you were sharing before the arrival of your friends, “About your feelings towards Matt.” To which you sent a glare towards your smug-looking Digimon partner, your friends sweatdropping at this before you continued to speak, “Just as (D/P) had said, yes, it’s about him.” Reaching over to the pack of chips Wallace had brought, you let your eyes wander over to where all of your Digimon partners were, munching down on their snacks and talking with each other, letting out a sigh.

“I know I have other things to worry about such as college and my future and all of those other things, I just had to get this out of my system. I’ve been crushing on Matt for years and you all know that and it’s just… I have a lot of feelings and I just can’t seem to word them right, especially when it comes to him! Every time I try to express how I feel about him, I feel something weird in my chest. It’s the 'I can't explain this shit right' type of weird and it just frustrates me to no end! Like I will admit that I’m happy that he ended up with Sora.” At the mere mention of Sora and Matt’s relationship, both Ken and Izzy wanted to say something but both of their girlfriends had given them the look of ‘no, let (Y/N) figure it out by themselves.’ Honestly, you thought that it was weird but you simply brushed it off by popping another chip in your mouth. “It’s just….this sense of longing you know like almost as if we missed out or something and it makes me wanna go like…”

“Like real-life keyboard smashing?” Miyako spoke, brow raised in slight amusement at your current situation as you nodded, popping another chip into your mouth, “I mean I want to be with him but not in a sense that I want to sleep with him and ruin two of my long-running friendships with both Sora and Matt in one go the moment I come clean about my feelings!”

“It sounds like you’re going through a crisis….” Willis spoke out, holding Lopmon in his arms while Terriermon situated themselves upon your arms, much to your surprise as Izzy spoke, “I don’t see this as a ‘crisis’ of the sort. Plus I don’t think you’d be ruining any friendships at all! What I’m trying to say here, (Y/N)-senpai is that I think you should try and talk to him first but be subtle about it and not go in guns blazing. Plus there’s a study that says that most romantic relationships start as friendships! Just look at Mimi and I or even Ken and Miyako.”

“Easier said than done, Izzy.” You groaned, hand nearly flying to your cheek before realizing that you had a peel-off mask on, making you wrinkle your nose in slight annoyance as you pouted. “You guys had it easy because you didn’t have to worry about hurting anyone else’s feelings.” “That’s where you’re wrong, dummy!” Mimi spoke, reaching over to playfully tap you on the head as she continued, “Before Izzy and I became a thing, I was worried about hurting Emiko and ruining my friendship with her but after the three of us talked it out, we’re still friends and she’s okay with me dating Izzy here! “ After that brief story Mimi had told you, you recalled her dating Emiko, who happened to be a part of your little group and possessed the Crest of Loyalty and was paired with Elecmon. She and Mimi dated for 5 years but due to their packed schedules (Mimi running her own business and Emiko being a famous musician who constantly travels with Elecmon and takes up modeling and acting gigs as a side-line) and everything in between, it was safe to say that the both of them had ended their relationship on a good note and if you recall correctly, she and Meiko were dating now. “But still! It’s kind of different, alright? Plus the last time I had spoken to him and had seen him face to face was the time both of us were like 17!” This seemed to shock everyone, especially Mimi and Izzy as all of them spoke all at once, their questions mixed in a flurry of questions regarding your connection with Matt. Well…It was mostly Mimi, Wallace, and Miyako who did the questioning rather than all 6 of them.

“Five whole years!?! But the two of you are close!” “How about face-timing each other??? Or even DM’ing each other?” “Not even a single call or text or even a letter?!” Hearing all of them come at you all at once with these questions made you feel a little bit uneasy and perhaps even on edge, the only time they did stop was when they saw you clenching and unclenching your fists before holding a finger up as you spoke, “First off, we only talk in quick lapses and small ‘how are yous’ because we’ve been respectively busy with other things such as keeping our respective home bases safe from unwanted Digimon attacks. Both (D/P) and I have been keeping the damage on the down-low whenever there’s an attack and Izzy knows about this.” The aforementioned redhead nodded at this as he spoke, “That’s true, you’d be surprised at how many Digimons appear in (Y/N)’s home-turf now and then!” “I’m just lucky that I got a free week this time around and that I have nothing else to do. I mean I’d be in college right now but since I didn’t get accepted into the college I wanted to go to, I’ve decided to take a year off and then try again next year but that’s not our main topic here right now! The main topic is about how Matt and I went on for five years without seeing each other or let alone having an actual full-blown conversation with each other.” You spoke with a wave of dismissal as the rest of your friends listened to your final statement. You had been talking for at least an hour or so, at first, it was a small catch up on how things are going on with them and yourself included other stuff like hobbies and all that and somehow it came down to talking about the main reason why you called them up in the first place.

Standing up to head over to the bathroom to peel off the dry mask off of your skin you continued to speak, your voice echoing from the open bathroom door and towards your friend’s ears, occasionally wincing all the while as you peeled off the mask, “Not to mention, he’s busy with college. The last time I heard from him was when he told me about how he wasn’t sure about what he wants to do with his life.” You could hear one of the chairs move backward, indicating that one of your friends had stood up while you were preoccupied with the remains of the black peel-off mask. When your eyes had met the mirror once more, Miyako was the one to stand right behind you, arms folded over her chest, brow raised, and lip quirked upwards in a questioning manner as she spoke, “And when did this conversation take place?” Turning around to face her, you then reached over to the towelette that hung on the rack that was near the door, patting your face dry with it as you thought, exactly how long was it since then? “Uh….a month ago at least??? Why?”

Placing a hand upon your shoulder, the younger lilac-haired female stared directly right into your eyes as she spoke, “(Y/N)-san, you’re like family to me but PLEASE just talk to him. It’s as simple as that but like Koushiro-senpai had just said, just don’t go in guns blazing.” “I-I’ll think about it, okay? For now….”

It had been an hour since your friends had left and now here you were, wide awake with an arm thrown across your forehead in a debilitating manner, nose scrunched up and lips pulled into a tight huff as you thought about what your friends had told you moments ago. They made a point, sure, but what they didn’t know was that you had been constantly texting Matt for the past few months, in hopes he would get the chance to read it, and sure, he did but he never responded and that was enough for you cease your texting because you were getting worried that you were probably distracting him from his studies and whatnot. So what do you do when you start to miss him? You scroll through your phone and re-read some of your old chats together, scroll through your gallery to look at some of the old photos and videos of the two of you together during your high school days. Most of these videos were taken by your Digimon partner, Gabumon, or anyone from the group and such. But out of all of the videos you’ve taken, the one you cherish the most was the one that you had taken during his 14th birthday. It was your first time seeing Odaiba without any Digimon attacking and you marveled at the scenery before you, both you and Matt venturing around the city and it was also the first time you had witnessed him perform live on stage with his band during the time and you’ve supported him in his endeavors ever since but you also made sure to knock some sense into him whenever you got the chance, this was also the time he had first taught you how to play your guitar as well and the time you had realized that you weren’t crushing on him anymore, no. You were in love and you fell for Matt, hard.

Snapping yourself back into reality, you then cast your phone aside to your bedside table, hands flying over to your face, you then groaned a little bit loudly, enough to wake your slumbering partner right beside you, which of course, effectively woke them up, their eyes half-lidded and sleep ridden as they spoke, a little bit bluntly, “Y’know, it wouldn’t kill you to just talk to him, (Y/N). Mimi, Miyako, and the others are right, just talk to him. It would do everyone some good and please get some sleep instead of reminiscing at hours such as these.” Turning around to look at your partner, you finally caved in and heaved a deep sigh, expression softening as you spoke, “You guys win. I’ll talk to him.”

At this point, your partner looked as if they were completely done with your bullshit and had reached over to bonk you on the head as they spoke, “Not through text, genius. Give him a call and don’t be awkward.” “Ow! Fine, I’ll do it, happy?” You responded, holding your head a pout on your face as your digimon partner yawned, turning over to their side, snuggling further into their side of the bed and their blankets, “Yes, now go the fuck to sleep.”

“SINCE WHEN DID YOU LEARN HOW TO FUCKING CUSS, (D/P)!?” “The moment I was paired with you, now go to sleep.” “I-Fair point. Good night.”

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misterewrites · 3 years

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Mystery at the Salt-Irons

Hey everyone! E here with a new chapter! kept you waiting huh? Haha sorry it's been a busy few weeks. Nothing serious but I had to keep starting and stopping this chapter so it threw me off but it's here, it's ready and I hope you enjoy it!

I have some special guests in this story, some ocs made by my friends because you know what I can so I will and honestly, they were really great oc ideas guys. so keep an eye out for @hains-mae and Biz_fantasist OC(I don’t know if she has a tumblr but it’s late so I’ll edit it later)

That's it for me! I hope you are all stay safe, keep your loved ones safe, wash your hands, wear your masks, push to give everyone the vaccine cuz this is getting ridiculous. I hope you have a great week, thank you for reading. I deeply appreciate and feel free to share it with your friends, give me feedback. Reblog and comments all that fun stuff! Thanks and I'll see you soon!

Here’s the chapter over at Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/85394095

Here’s the story from the beginning if you’re curious what this is about

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

and here’s a list of all my work both original and the various fandoms I write for

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/works

Summary: Finnrick is called to solve a mysterious case as per his job as the city's only Private Investigator wizard but as he sinks deeper into the case, the more it seems that something is happening behind the scenes. Of course with an old friend in town and dark magic surrounding the case, Finnrick is as busy as ever. Ain't no rest for the wicked.

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The Salt-Iron Flats weren’t anything special on the surface: An unassuming apartment complex on the north side of Newton Haven, the only thing most people remembered about the place was how the price tag hurt their souls.

Of course, unlike the general housing market, the Salt-Irons (affectionately referred to by the locals) actually had a very reasonable reason for fetching such a high rate: The salt and cold iron baked into every single brick that formed the building.

If you weren’t in the magical know, you’d think it utterly insane that you’d be forced to pay such a large amount of cash because some weirdo decided to make a new age artistic statement with bricks. Of course, if you are aware of the greater community at large, you’d knew you were paying the insanely large sum because someone decided to make the Salt-Irons the single most protective location in the city.

Most mortals have forgotten their history, their lore and collective knowledge passed down throughout the generations: Why their ancestors used to place lines of salt in front of the door and windows, why the elders always suggested to the braver, recklessly youthful family members to carry iron whenever they ventured through the wild.

Outer beings were repelled by salt and iron. No one really had an idea why fae, angels and demons weren’t fond of salt or iron and there's been plenty of arguing about the subject but all in all the fact remained they did not do well when faced with either.

That was the main reason Finnrick didn’t find himself in the north side of town often.

Well that and the zealous Gate Keepers. Those guys were freaks but between them and the Salt-Irons being the only supernatural community up here, Finn never got a case from the area.

Until today.

The Salt-Irons were great at protecting you from any outside threats that wished you ill will: It didn’t protect you from anything you decided to bring in with you.

It was five in the morning when Finnrick got the call. The M.R.R.D representative didn’t have much to offer beyond the address and floor but he thanked her all the same.

Finnrick yawned tiredly, stretching the tension out of his neck while he sipped his coffee. He let out a sigh of relief as the sun slowly rose into the sky.

The Salt-Irons was a twelve story tall building painted a ghastly pale green that made Finnrick sick just looking at it.

“People are paying how much to live in that shade? I’d ask for discount if I were them.” Finnrick laughing to himself, making his way into the apartment complex.

Luckily the interior was much nicer than the outside: Everything was well kept and cleaned. Not a single speck of dust in sight and the wooden stairs didn’t creak when Finnrick placed his foot on them.

Which was good given Finnrick needed to go up seven flights of stairs.

Finnrick wheezed a little, wiping the sweat from his brow when he reached the seventh floor. He glanced down the hall one way then the other as he began to search for room 707 which basic deductive reasoning suggested should be around the corner.

Finnrick crushed the empty foam cup and tucked it into his coat pocket as he made his way to 707. It was a simple wooden door and immaculately spotless just like the rest of the place. He rose his hand and gently rapped on the door.

No response.

He frowned, checking if he was still alone in the empty hallway and rose his hand towards the door frame.

His eyes glowed with a blue energy as he whispered softly “Revelis”

The door gleamed with a bluish hue for a moment before fading away without a trace.

No protective spells laced over the frame so the only thing Finn had to worry about now if it was locked.

He tried the knob, unsurprised when it swung open silently.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s expecting you” Finnrick justified to himself as he pushed the door in.

He nearly staggered backwards: The air tasted thick and foul like something had been left rotting inside. His skin prickled with anxiety, a chill running down his spine with each step he took further in.

Finnrick took deep, calming breathes while doing his best to ignore the bitter taste that seem to cling the air within.

He noticed the trail of footsteps, perfectly preserved in what appeared to be black dust leading deeper into the living room.

“Hey da! You here?” Finnrick called out, carefully stepping closer “You and ma still married?”

There was a deep grunt of acknowledgment before a voice responded “Sorry son, we’re divorced now. She got custody of you.”

“Well fuck. I guess I’m going to be eating kale and poorly cooked spinach for the rest of my life.”

Garrus Valka was not in fact Finnrick’s father, adoptive or otherwise. He was actually one of the highest ranked officers of the Magical Rapid Response Department: An elf clocking in at 200 years old with richly tanned skin. His bluish gray hair was slicked back in his preferred style. Garrus’s had his back turned to the detective but Finn knew his sliverish gray eyes were deep in concentration as he took down notes about the surroundings. His beautifully inhuman features were marred with a scar on the right side of his face: burnt skin on his cheek, healed by time and various surgeries. An old war wound though Finn never got the full story.

He was dressed in typical M.R.R.D fashion: Dark blue windbreaker, jeans and a blue shirt with the words “Powered by coffee and spite” splashed across the front. His Winchester rifle was slung across his back, ready for any action that may befall the elf.

“Drift.” Garrus greeted teasingly while offering a hand.

Finnrick gave it a playful shake “Da. So is mom here or she trying to smite pigeons again?”

“THEY TRIED TO STEAL MY HOTDOG!” Garrus’s partner Eden screamed from another room “I SHALL BRING MY GOD’S WRATH UPON THEM!”

“You know when they mean justice.” Finnrick called out “I don’t think they mean against winged rats.”

Eden chuckled darkly “You know not their sins.”

“Okay.” Finnrick nodded despite the fact she couldn’t see him “If you say so. What happened Da? Aside powerful necromancy.”

“Powerful necromancy” Garrus replied cheekily “and missing persons.”

Finnrick rose an eyebrow “Persons? More than one?”

“Two: A father and son. Richard Charles and his son Richard Jr. Recluses it seems. Neighbors hardly saw them. Mostly kept to themselves.”

Finnrick pursed his lips thoughtfully “Any magical abilities?”

“They’re not on records if that’s what you mean.” Garrus answered “Never signed up in the academy, not registered with The Council. If they were practitioners they didn’t tell anyone.”

“So what was the spell? I just smell the remnants of spookiness.”

“Hadn’t noticed the rest of the room huh?”

Finnrick frowned before finally getting a good look at the rest of the room: Every inch of the apartment was blanketed with the same black dust that he found in the entrance way. Inches and inches of the substance and that wasn’t the strangest part.

Everything was bent at different and odd angles: chair with crooked legs, the wall clock warped and twisted, the fridge leaning like someone folded it in half. Floorboard reached for the sky and walls split inward.

There was a common misconception about magic. Most people thought spell casters, especially wizards, could command reality to their wills. That magic was capable of impossible feats and it was as simple as snapping your fingers.

The truth was all magic, ranging from divinity to free range nature, was performed on a micro scale. Practitioners did not alter reality but rather shortcut it. Throwing fireballs was as simple as rapidly heating the air until it combusted. Turning invisible was less about vanishing completely as it was bending the light around you to not be seen. Magic was rooted in reality and imagination. If you had the magical strength to perform the magic, the magic often followed your lead.

Of course there were spells that required much more than magical hand and willpower. Powerful magic, like summoning outer beings or raising an army of zombies, required both time and materials. Magic was like any other energy: you needed enough of it to perform what you wanted. The human body could only generate so much magic without dying and resting was necessary to replace any expended in the use of spells. Materials were guidelines for the spell. Feathers for anything with flight, ash for fireballs etc etc.

The other thing needed was to gather energy and store it for the spell’s use. There were different ways to achieve this: Wands, talismans, potions were basically magic soups. The most efficient way to gather energy was the wizards preferred way: Circles.

Finnrick eyed the room closely this time, murmuring under his breath about angles and trajectory. Garrus paid him no mind, well familiar with the private investigators methods.

“If this went like that” he gestured to the wall clock “and that went here.”

Finnrick glanced about, carefully walking about as if worried he was going to step on a landmine.

“Here.” Finnrick found himself staring at a spot in the middle of the room “Ventus.”

He gestured with a hand and light breeze filled the room. It brushed away some of the dust covering floor, revealing the outline of a half melted metal ring.

“What is it?” Garrus turned curiously

“Spell circle. The source of the explosion. I’m willing to bet it’s custom made. Copper, steel. Maybe some bits of tin couldn’t stand the surge.”

“No iron or sliver?”

Finnrick shook his head “That’s for containing or repelling monsters. Necromancy is more about drawing in the evil entities. Or sucking out life.”

Garrus sighed tiredly “Don’t touch?”

“Only if you want to live to see retirement. Might have some pent up magic ready to blow outwards.”

“Understood. I’ll call in our guys. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

Finn nodded gratefully while pulling out a vial and motioning to the elf “Mind if I do?”

“Be my guest, you might find something we’d miss.”

Finnrick smiled gratefully before scooping up some of the dust and sealing it within the vial.

“Take care Garrus, stop fighting birds Ma!”

“Flying rats!”

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The cafe was lively despite being early but that was no surprise given it was Mother’s. Mother’s was the single best food establishment in all Newton Haven and if anyone disagreed, they were allowed to have their opinions.

They were also allowed to be wrong.

Finnrick paused in the doorway, breathing in the scent of well cooked eggs and sweet lemonade. The pop and sizzle of heated grease brought a sense of comfort to the hard working private investigator.

“Finny Drift!” Maddie Copperstone called from behind the counter “How’s my favorite customer holding up?”

Maddie was 40 years young with tastefully curled dark brown hair. Human, little on the short side but fierce. She wore a simple red blouse and jeans, both stained with flour that the apron around her waist did not prevent.

Finnrick bounced over cheerfully, reaching over the counter to give the matron the biggest hug he could muster “I’m good Maddie. Working a case.”

Maddie’s brown eyes searched his face carefully “You always working Finny. You resting as much?”

“Scout’s honor.”

Maddie let out a disbelieving chuckle “You weren’t ever a Scout.”

“Honorary scout after I stopped that bear from eating them.”

“Thought it was a giant raccoon.”

“Yes but people don’t take giant raccoon seriously. He here?”

Maddie clicked her tongue disappointingly but motioned to the booth at the far end of the establishment “Rest.”

Finnrick rose his hand in surrender “After.”

“Never you mean!” Maddie shouted after him.

Amos Frye hadn’t changed much since last he was roaming around Finnrick’s neck of the woods: Handsome with soft gray eyes that reminded Finn of gathering storm clouds. His long black hair was tied in a messy bun held up by a golden pin, a braided strand hung loosely near his face. His beard was much shorter than what Finnrick remembered though he noted the unkempt split ends indicated that Amos hadn’t trimmed it in a few weeks. His iconic dark red sleeveless jerkin and black jean combination would look ridiculous on a lesser man but had allowed the monster hunter to show off his muscular frame. His brown skin was a bit more pale than usual so no doubt Amos had been operating at night lately.

“Finnrick, you cheeky bastard! I am so glad you came!” Amos beamed happily, his various bangles and bracelets clinking together in equally joyous celebration as the two shook hands.

“Amos! Happy to see you.” Finn beamed brightly as he slid into the booth across his old friend “Why though? Family trouble?”

Amos’s joyfully gleam turned dark for a moment.

“No. Have you…?”

Finnrick shook his head quickly “Not a word. Sorry, I hadn’t meant to…”

Amos waved the apology away “No worries cuz. I understand why you’d think that. Coming across the pond isn’t a spur of the moment thing and Os has always been the black sheep of the family. I suppose no news is good news.”

“Right.” Finnrick cleared his throat awkwardly “So what’s the trouble? I doubt you’d call me up for a nip and chat.”

“Rightly so.” Amos confirmed, reaching into the bag at his side and pulling out a folder “Hunting business as usual cuz.”

That made sense: Amos was the latest of a long family whose specialized business was monster hunting. The Fryes had been striking at things that went bump in the night for centuries ever since the first Frye defended the folk of some underground society.

Amos was an average wizard if Finnrick was being generous. That was not a slight against his old friend, it was a matter of fact: Amos spent most of his time honing the physical aspects of his profession which was obvious given the size of his arms. Any spells he knew were purely for defensive or preventive measures so he often communicated with Finnrick for higher quality and complex spellwork.

Finnrick took the folder from Amos and began pouring over its contents.

Most were quickly scrawled notes Amos had noticed about his quarry: Long sliver hairs, canine in nature. Large paw prints found in the areas it had been sighted, far too big to any natural wolf. Wulfvur and werewolf were hastily written and as quickly crossed out. A pattern of hanging out in wild areas, often forests and swamps.

There were pictures too: flashes of sliver, blurs of fangs and muzzles darting in and out of camera frame. It was always a distance away, sprinting deeper into the wildness. It was hard to tell from the photos but Finn guessed it might’ve been 10 feet tall at the very least.

“Why we hunting wolves now?” Finnrick asked curiously.

Amos flagged down the waitress “Contract given to my pa. It was hanging around the marsh lands of the jolly old isles. Someone wanted it gone.”

Something wasn’t clicking with Finn “and you followed it here? From England?”

“Nah cuz” Amos gave a cheeky grin “I tackled it through a portal and found I illegally crossed into America.”

“Ah.” Finnrick nodded in understanding “Fae.”

“Fae?” Amos frowned thoughtfully “I thought that too but I never heard of any snarling wolfie breaking into homes and snatching out wee younglings in them old folktales.”

“Fae are weird.” Finnrick shrugged “Their whole shtick is not making any sense. I had to expel a cat the size of a bus once. Double decker tall.”

Amos whistled in appreciation as he scratched his bread “So fae. Slippy fellow as you can tell. Whatcha recommend?”

“What’s the contract?”

“Banishment. It’s looking like wolfie ended up in the wrong part of town.”

“I think you mean next town over. Fixed a pattern yet?”

“Not yet but I wasn’t looking for one.” Amos admitted “Thought I was tracking some mutant. Fae changes a lot. Magical circles?”

“Easiest way to catch it.” Finnrick agreed “Sliver for sure. Iron would hurt it and based on your files, it hasn’t done anything than thin the local wildlife population. No need to anger mister big bad wolf.”

“Good call. I got some talent to handle a few circles but tracking is not really my speed.”

“I’m on a case but if you swing by the M.R.R.D, maybe they’ll loan you a wizard.”

Amos let out a disappointed sigh “I need to take care this sometime this year Finny. Bloody bureaucracy probably set me back a month at least.”

“There’s always Jaime but she’s pretty busy at work.”

“Jaime huh?” Amos smiled mischievously “I haven’t talked to your sister in a long time.”

“I will curse you.” Finnrick playfully threatened “And not no simple hex either. I’ll make you bald.”

Amos gasped dramatically, clutching at his hair protectively “You wouldn’t dare mate.”

“Shinier than the sun.”

“Okay, okay” Amos conceded “I’m kidding. She’s with Casey anyway. Good couple. Cute couple. He still hopelessly selfless and she still trying to fast track her way to power?”

“Yep.”

“You gonna fix that?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s their lives. Their choices.”

“Idiots.” Amos chuckled “the lot of them.”

“All you need is love?”

“Spoken true the gospel of my land.”

-----

A few hours later with a brainstorm session completed and a promise to help out the next day, Finnrick left Amos to his work and continued with his own.

It was noon now and as the sun rose high in the sky, Finnrick found himself at the Grimyard.

The Grimyard was the premiere spot for all things magical in Newton Haven: Rows and rows of shops specifically catering to the magic community. The streets were paved with century old cobblestone and the buildings here were various hues of faded brick and mortar. It was easy to get lost in the Grimyard if it was your first time as the Grimyard did not spread out, it stacked downward. Layers upon layers of the Grimyard were actually underground to allow those with issues against the sun to sell their goods and services at all times of the day. Don’t let the dark fool you, anyone with worthy talent or product was here in the Grimyard.

Normally Finnrick would wander around a bit, checking out the various businesses and protective wards around the mile long patch of land but he was on the clock and the sooner he began to figure out what was going on, the sooner he could stop it.

Luckily for him, his destination was right here on the top floor of the marketplace. Specifically furthest back corner.

Knightly Ore was ran by the Knight family. Originally they only sold rare metals and ores which were necessary components for some of the more complicated magicks. At some point the owners expanded into selling more alchemical materials and eventually brewing potions, salves and such for a fee.

Despite decent business, it was the most rundown building in this part of the Grimyard: Broken window shudders with the paint faded down to the original shade when the business first opened decades ago. The humble black door was crooked and creaked whenever it moved

Finnrick knew the owners fairly well but here wasn’t here for them. He was here to see their son.

He pushed past the building, ducking into the alley that led to the lot directly behind the shop.

“Halt!” A voice called out “Who seeks the Brewmaster of the Grimyard?”

“It is I, Finnrick the detective. I got money and I need work done”

The Brewmaster was Theodore Knight, an incredibly talented alchemist who didn’t have the same opportunities Finnrick did: He was pretty tall for his age (14 or 15, Finnrick lost track once or twice) but clearly a teenager given his short lavender hair had a few strands dyed red. His eyes were an unnatural pale blue, paler than the blue of the sky. He wore the usual attire Finn often found him in: A sleeveless dark blue hoodie with a fist sized red gem clasped in front just under his neck and a lighter shade blue t-shirt. He wore black finger-less gloves gripping his brown messenger bag slung around his shoulder. A matching brown pouch hung around the waist of his gray cargo shorts and his brown boots were kept clean despite his place of business was in an alley behind his parents shop.

Theo jumped out from a hidden shadowy corner of the lot “Finn, whatcha got for me now?”

Finnrick reached into his pocket, showing the eager teen the vial that held blacken dust within.

“That’s it?” Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes “I was expecting something…...cooler.”

He took the vial and raised it to the sun. Theo gave it a rough shake and watched it carefully for any properties the strange substance would display.

Theo frowned, clearly unsatisfied by what he saw “You brought me ash? Plain ash? It’s your money but even I think it’s a waste.”

“It’s ash?”

Theo shot the detective a look that screamed how obvious it should’ve been “Yes, ash. Thicker than what I’ve seen but ash all the same.”

Finnrick bit his cheek thoughtfully.

“Look Finn, you know my rates. I dunno what you want me to do but standard fees apply.”

“I’ll paying double.”

The Brewmaster’s eyes narrowed suspiciously “Double for ash? What’s so special about it?”

“Oh nothing." Finnrick pretended to look disinterested “Aside it was taken directly from a crime scene: Necromancy and cast via a half melted spell circle.”

It took Theo a minute to allow the implications of what Finnrick said to sink in. His eyes shifted from suspicion to wild excitement.

“Really?!” Theo clutched the vial like it was his first born child “Necromancy really doesn’t like many alchemy processes. It’s not going to be easy for me.”

“I know right?” Finnrick grinned impishly “It’s almost like I’m going to have to pay double for it.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to….” Theo pouted unhappily “Ha freaking ha. Okay smart guy, pay up.”

Finnrick handed over 50 gold. Theo took it eagerly, his eyes lightening up with glee.

Theo paused for a moment, his face turning oddly serious for a teenager.

“It might take me awhile depending on what you want.”

“I want to know what’s in it. Necromancy requires specific ingredients. After that it’ll be easier to track the seller.”

“And the buyer!” Theo blurted out excitedly “Smart.”

Finnrick ruffled his hair playfully “I wish I thought of it. You keep this up and you’re going to run me out of business.”

“I’ll text you when I have something.”

“Pleasure as always Theo.”

“It’s Brewmaster.”

-----

It was 2 in the afternoon when Finnrick made his way back to the Salt-Iron. He stood outside the complex, tossing the remains of his pizza into his waiting maw and crumpling the can of soda he was drinking before tucking into his coat pocket.

“What’s this?” Finnrick asked, utterly confused by the crushed foam cup he pulled from within “Oh right my coffee. I’ve been really at today.”

Finnrick wiped his hands clean and made his way inside the Salt-Iron once more, mulling over the details of the case as he ascended up the stairway.

Blacken ash cast by a spell circle. Both father and son missing with no indication where they went too. Recluses and rarely seen. Necromancy within a threshold.

It was hard to tell how deeply the father and son were involved in spell. Someone who had access to the apartment was behind it no doubt. Spell circles were the most consistent way to cast magic but they took time to build, set and channel energy. You didn’t build a spell circle without knowing exactly what you plan to do with it.

The nature of the magic was also a mystery: Dark magic had various applications and not a single one was good. Finnrick hadn’t much experience with that branch of magic but there was nothing logical about the aftereffects: Ash spread throughout the apartment, clinging to everything like a second skin. There was no signs of an outward blast given that nothing bent in the same direction. Everything in that room decided to twist in whatever wayit felt like. If the spell was supposed to draw in something then chair legs and wall tiles would’ve been pulled directly towards the circle.

“Curiouser and curiouser Alice” Finnrick spoke to no one in particular.

He was on the fifth floor when he noticed something odd.

Finnrick raised an eyebrow as the skies outside the window darken, black and stormy.

A thunderstorm it seems.

Finnrick peered out the window, glancing upwards to see what was going on.

Dark clouds swirled directly overhead. Rain began to lightly drizzle as the skies boomed. Thunder and a moment later lightning trailing across the gathering storm.

A thunderstorm that formed directly above this building.

Without warning.

“Well that’s not ominous.”

Finnrick made the mistake of leaning closer to the window, peering around to see if he could see where exactly the storm was coming from when it happened.

“Watch out below!”

Finnrick noticed three things in that moment: First, was of course, someone shouting to watch out below. Second was the distant sound of claws scratching something wooden, the walls perhaps. Lastly was the thudding of something falling down quickly and towards him.

Finnrick rose his hand, pivoting on his heels in time to see something crash into him.

It wasn’t much of a contest: Both Finnrick and whatever slammed into him broke through the fifth story window and went sprawling into a freefall.

#My story #Mirror's Edge #Original Work #original story

46 notes · View notes

vannahfanfics · 3 years

Text

Worthy

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Shoto Todoroki, Momo Yaoyorozu

Hey, everyone! I'm happy to present the piece I wrote for the @todorokibigbang! Enjoy some TodoMomo wedding fluff <3 Also, be sure to check out the absolutely stunning art by my partner, @danyartime!

Shoto sucked in a deep breath as he straightened his bowtie for the tenth time in the last minute, using his reflection in the mirror to ensure that the wine red accessory hugged the collar of his white button-down shirt snugly. As his hands fell, they automatically itched to smooth down the nonexistent creases in the thick, sleek fabric of his tuxedo jacket. He smoothed his palms down his front anyway, until they met the band of his black dress pants. Just as he began to wonder if he should re-shine his shoes, he realized just exactly where his mind was derailing and smiled sardonically to himself.

Natsuo told me about the pre-wedding jitters, but I never imagined they would be this bad.

Of course, Shoto had no compulsions to flee the altar; proposing to his soon-to-be wife was the greatest decision he had ever made. He would happily give her his heart, his world, everything he could offer, and more without sparing a second thought. However, as he stood there fidgeting in front of the floor-length mirror, listening to his groomsmen bicker and laugh in the adjoining room, Shoto would be remiss to admit that he wasn’t nervous.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he was deserving of all this— friends and family to surround him as he passes into the next chapter of his life and a successful career as a burgeoning pro hero with a sound investment in an agency that he, Izuku, and Katsuki were slowly building from the ground up—all of which he could share with his beloved. After all the trials and tribulations of his young life, it all seemed so… easy. Shoto was far from perfect and had his regrets, so how could this wonderful life just have fallen into his hands?

As he ruminated, he smacked his lips, his mouth going uncomfortably dry, eyebrows furrowed as he sipped at a bottle of water. Shoto had never entertained these thoughts before—not when he graduated, not when he broke out as a professional hero, and not even on his worst days when he couldn’t save anyone—so it was mighty conspicuous that his subconscious chose now of all days to second-guess himself. He scrunched up his face as he tried to will away the anxiety gnawing at his insides.

Ever since high school, you’ve worked hard to become who you are now. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t enjoy the comforts you slaved for… he told himself, but it rang hollowly in his heavy heart. He drained the water bottle and tossed it in the trash, grimace not leaving his face. His tongue still felt bone-dry and coated with ash. As he paced the small room, rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs, there was a quiet knock at the door that led to the hallway.

“Hey, Sho, it’s us!” called Natsuo’s cheerful voice, followed by Fuyumi chirping a greeting. Running a hand through his hair and checking himself in the mirror to make sure he didn’t look too rattled, he hurried to the door and opened it. His elder siblings wore identical smiles as they looked him up and down.

“You sure clean up nice,” Natsuo grinned as he looped an arm around Shoto’s neck and tugged him down to affectionately ruffle his hair. “Look at you, so big now that you’re getting married, huh? Man, how time flies.”

Shoto grunted as he tugged himself away, indignantly smoothing down his hair. The strands were fine and ordered enough that he didn’t have to bother doing anything, but he didn’t want to meet his bride with flyaways sticking up all over his head. “Natsuo…”

“Hey, stud, not having any second thoughts, are you?” the white-haired man grinned playfully, nudging him with an elbow. Shoto blinked, floored by his elder brother’s sudden inquiry.

“What? Of course not!” he answered in bewilderment. Natsuo seemed entertained and had no implications that it was an inappropriate thing to ask.

“Good, good!” Natsuo chimed. He then glanced at Fuyumi as she began to sniffle.

“I can’t believe it… Our Shoto is all grown up…” she moaned and dabbed at the tears blooming in the corners of her eyes. “Next thing you know, he’ll be having babies and will slowly move out of our lives…”

Shoto turned beet red at the mention of having children. It wasn’t out of the question, but it certainly wasn’t on his mind right now, so it unnerved him a little to have it brought up in conversation. He swallowed the nervous nausea in favor of stepping forward to wrap his sister up in a gentle hug. He was taller than her now, so she could nestle right into the crook of his shoulder and cry.

“Fuyumi, I’m not going anywhere,” he laughed lightly. “You’re still my family. I know life gets busy, but I’m still going to make every effort to see you all.”

“Really?” Fuyumi gasped as her head snapped up. Shoto tried not to laugh at the black smudges of mascara under her eyes and smiled reassuringly.

“Of course,” he said before leaning down to kiss the top of her head. The sweet action made Fuyumi start blubbering again, and no amount of dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief prevented the mascara from streaming down her flushed cheeks. Natsuo led her away to the bathroom, trying to suppress his snickers as Fuyumi wailed about “what a good young boy Shoto turned out to be,” and left Shoto in the doorway.

What a good young boy he turned out to be, her words echoed in the dark of his mind. Though her words should fill him with pride and love, the only thing that rose up within Shoto was the cold emptiness of doubt. He leaned in the doorframe as his breath left him in a heavy sigh, and he stared at the place his siblings had rounded the corner. Fuyumi’s crying face flashed in his mind.

Why was she crying in the first place? Why would she ever think that I would abandon them? The notion made nervous butterflies flutter in his stomach. Had Shoto perhaps been negligent with his family? Sure, they were the textbook definition of dysfunctional, but after his first semester at U.A., he’d done his best to try to mend their fractured relationship. Had he not done enough? Did Fuyumi really believe that now that he’d found a wife, he’d just make his own little family and forget all about them?

He scowled as that irritating dryness returned to his mouth, making him run a hand over his lips. His entire family would be attending the ceremony today. He thought that was because they were there to support him, but could it be mere pretense? Or worse, did they all believe that after today they would see less and less of him until routine visits became replaced with excuses? He squirmed in the doorway as a pang of guilt began to prickle at him.

Before he could dwell on that unsettling thought, someone called his name from down the hall. He looked up to see the looming bulk of his father striding towards him. Shoto involuntarily straightened up, blinking as Enji came to a stop in front of him.

“Hello, son,” Enji coughed uncomfortably, tugging at the baby-blue tie tucked into his gray suit jacket. Shoto could tell that Enji was trying to hide his nervousness by the way he kept his head held high and the nervous twitches in his face muscles. Even now, after Shoto had grown into a young man, their relationship still had its strains, yet Shoto wasn’t petty enough to deny his father witnessing his marriage, so he’d still invited him. Enji’s eyes raked over him before giving an approving nod. “It suits you,” he said with a vague gesture to his tuxedo.

“Thanks.”

Enji shuffled his weight from one large foot to the other, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he struggled to gather his words. “Father, is there something you want to say?”

“I, uh,” Enji gulped and scratched at his close-cropped auburn hair. “I just wanted… I just wanted to tell you… how proud I am of you, Shoto,” he mumbled, voice dropping with every word. Shoto’s face blanched in shock, causing him to just stare dumbly up at his father. Enji continued to fidget nervously, fumbling through his fatherly dotage. “You’ve, uh… You’ve come a long way. I know that a part of you will never forgive me for what I’ve done, and I know now that the way I treated you was not right. I’m, uh… very grateful that you’re even allowing me to be here to see you get married.”

“Father, it’s not—”

“Please let me finish,” Enji blurted, going a little pink in the face. Shoto nodded respectfully, and Enji grumbled under his breath, “How should I say this?” He contemplated anxiously for a moment before continuing, “You’re a fine young man and a fine young hero, a better one than I ever could have dreamed of, and you did that all on your own. Even if I don’t deserve it, it’s an honor to call you my son.”

Shoto’s throat bobbed as it grew a little tight.

“Thanks, Father…”

“I know you’ll go on to do amazing things,” Enji said, seeming to relax as Shoto didn't outright reject his sentiments. He laid a large hand on Shoto’s shoulders. “You’ve made a promising career for yourself because of your hard work in school. Japan couldn’t ask for a finer hero.” Enji held onto his shoulder a second before he coughed uncomfortably and retracted. “I, um… I had better go now. Sorry if I interrupted anything.” It looked like he wanted to embrace Shoto, but he merely offered him a handshake. Shoto shook his hand, still slightly dazed from his father’s emotional speech, and then watched him head towards the entryway.

Enji paused and looked back at him with knitted eyebrows.

“Are you… Are you all right, Shoto? You seem tense. You aren’t having any second thoughts, are you?”

There it is again… Why was everyone asking that? Was that just a thing people asked the groom on their wedding day? Was it really that common for grooms to leave their brides?

“Of course not, Father. I couldn’t be happier.”

Enji nodded thoughtfully, staring at him a moment, before uttering a terse, “Good.” Then he was gone, and Shoto was alone again.

Japan couldn’t ask for a finer hero.

Well, Shoto certainly didn’t feel very fine right now. Shoto had to crawl his way up to the top alongside his classmates. He thought of Fuyumi, of how she’d cried and begged Shoto not to leave them. Maybe he was devoting too much energy to his career. What would the adoring public think if they learned that Shoto was forsaking all the important things in his life to be the best? They’d call him an egotist, for sure. Was that what he was?

Once again, he thought about how easily everything seemed to be falling into place. Could that be because Shoto was sacrificing other things in the process? Or worse, was this “vision” of his easy life all an illusion?

What if all of this isn’t as it seems, and I really don’t deserve any of it?

Just as panic began to pump through his system, he was jolted out of his thoughts by the door to the adjoining room slamming open. He whirled around to see Katsuki stomping into the room, his face nearly as red as the wine red of his boutonniere. The volatile blond was dragging Shoto’s best man in by the collar, clearly to complain about something he didn’t approve of.

Shoto raised his eyebrows as Katsuki slung a very frightened Izuku to the ground in front of him.

“K-Kacchan! It’s not that serious!” the green-haired boy whined as he rolled over to sit cross-legged on the floor and pout. Katsuki snorted haughtily and craned up his head, nose upturned so far that he was nearly looking at the ceiling.

“Idiot! I’ll never understand why this Icy-Hot bastard chose you as his best man! Do you know what this loser just suggested?” Katsuki accused with a sharp point at the sulking Izuku while he rounded on Shoto. Nonplussed, Shoto just shook his head. “‘Hey, why don’t we send Shoto to check and see if the girls are ready’?” Katsuki mocked in a high-pitched, squeaky rendition of Izuku’s voice. “Moron!” Katsuki yelled and leaned down over Izuku, hands on his hips while Izuku blushed and rubbed at the side of his face. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride? A best man would know that!”

“I just wanted to make sure everything was coming along well,” Izuku explained meekly. “If there was a problem, I wanted to make sure we knew about it and could plan accordingly…”

“Then send one of the other extras, not the fucking groom!”

As the two began to bicker back and forth, Shoto sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. Honestly, he should have known better than to stick the two in a room together, but their venue didn’t really give them a choice. It was an antiquated millhouse fashioned into a wedding venue; the bridal party dressed in a small suite upstairs from the main floor where the wedding would be held, while the men prepared in a small, two-room shack next door. They’d been charmed by the rustic and quaint nature of the venue, as neither of them wanted a grand affair of their wedding, but Shoto was beginning to wonder if perhaps they should have opted for somewhere with more space and privacy…

“Enough,” Shoto barked as his frustration reached a boil. Izuku and Katsuki both stopped mid-chatter to look at him with wide eyes. “I appreciate the sentiments, both of you, but I would rather not quibble on my wedding day, thank you.” He sagged a little as the weariness began to take its toll. Arguing was really the least of his problems right now, considering he was shouldering an existential crisis. Izuku and Katsuki both looked at each other before squinting at him suspiciously.

“Hey, you all right, man?” Katsuki asked.

“You seem tense, Shoto. Are you okay? You’re not getting second thoughts, are you?” Izuku gasped worriedly. He shot to his feet to grab Shoto by the shoulders. “Please don’t tell me you’re considering calling off the wedding! Don’t worry! Lots of guys get nervous with this kind of commitment! But please, remember that you love—”

“Izuku,” Shoto interrupted with a weary smile and gently pushed his friend in the chest. “I’m not having second thoughts. Please don’t worry about that.” As Izuku deflated in relief, Shoto wondered if he should tell his friends about his real doubts. After a microsecond of consideration, he decided not to. Katsuki would probably just tell him to man up, and Izuku would go on an entire blabbering speech, and that’s not really what Shoto needed right now. Smiling thinly, Shoto placed his hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “I’m all right, really. There’s just been a lot of planning and preparation today, so I just want things to go well.”

“Right! Of course! As your best man, that’s my job! I’ll go right now and make sure everything is in order, okay? Don’t you worry, Shoto, I’ll make sure this goes off without a hitch!”

Before Shoto could insist that it really wasn’t necessary, the green-haired boy had zoomed off, untied dress shoe laces flapping behind him. Shoto looked after him with a small chuckle. Izuku had always been a bit flighty, but he really was an invaluable friend to him, so that’s why he had been the obvious choice for Shoto’s best man. He couldn’t imagine anyone else standing next to him when he greeted his bride at the altar.

The doubt crept up into his mind with its poisonous whispers. Izuku was a good friend, but did Shoto deserve a friend like that? Had he even come close to repaying all the things that Izuku had done for him? The smile fell from his lips as the cold guilt flushed through him once more.

“Oi.”

Shoto looked at Katsuki with unfocused eyes, still half-brooding. Katsuki’s crimson eyes thinned into small slivers as he squinted suspiciously. “Seriously, Icy-Hot, are you okay? You don’t… seem like yourself,” the blond asked slowly.

Shoto’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Katsuki was as prickly as his wild hair, so to have him so readily show concern and inquire about Shoto’s wellbeing definitely dragged him out of his stupor. Again, Shoto debated whether or not to come clean about the disordered mess that was currently his mind.

Shoto had never been much of a fibber, but for some reason, the lies rolled so easily off his tongue today.

“As I told Izuku, I’m fine,” he said smoothly, feigning a grateful smile. “I think all the wedding planning just caught up to me at once, that’s all. I’m sure if I just take a moment to relax and gather my thoughts, I’ll be alright. We still have plenty of time before the main event.”

Katsuki continued to eye him with his lips parted in a skeptical pout, but instead of prying, he just slowly nodded his head a few times.

“All right. If you say so. I’m gonna go make sure that loser doesn’t mess anything up,” he decided, brushing past Shoto to walk to the door. He paused on the threshold to toss a blank stare over his shoulder. “Don’t think too much. You’ve always been the type to get too in your head,” he advised before continuing after Izuku. Shoto went to step after him, hand raised, but Katsuki was already gone. His arm flopped back down to his side as he released a shaky breath.

“Maybe I am thinking too much…” he murmured to himself.

He’d like to convince himself of that, but that little beast inside him just snickered. Are you sure that’s not just another one of your lies? it taunted. He rubbed his neck as that ash-choking feeling returned, his body trembling with a few tight coughs. Izuku and Katsuki both seemed so concerned for him… Did he really deserve that concern? Maybe they weren’t really even concerned about him, but were more worried he’d take off and leave his fiancé a shattered, sobbing mess at the altar. Had Shoto been selfish in his friendships?

Had he been selfish in his relationship? Everyone kept asking the same question… What if they could see that selfishness and were on edge because they all kept thinking that he couldn’t stick it out, that he was too self-absorbed? Shoto’s breaths began to come in terse, ragged gasps as he spiraled into a self-esteem crash.

What was wrong with him? Why was he thinking like this? He pawed at his head with a small groan. Nothing made sense; everything was swirling around in his head like a whirlwind. He stumbled out of the doorway and slammed it shut in front of him before collapsing against it. The painted wood was cool against his flushing face.

Breathe. Breathe, he tried to calm himself, gulping down air.

It burned; his throat felt like it was drying up into a desert. Just as he stumbled into the center of the room, blearily looking for water, there was a soft knock at the door. It rang in his pounding head like a death knell. He clenched his teeth as he struggled to come down to earth instead of rocketing himself into the stratosphere.

I need… I need to calm down…

“Shoto?” his mother’s voice timidly called. Her soft-spoken tone sliced through the layer of anxiety clouding his mind, allowing him to descend back to reality. He closed his eyes as he composed himself, steadying his ragged breaths and slowing his heart rate. That’s right… I can’t… I can’t let her know I’m like this.

After he was confident he was presentable, Shoto crossed the floor in a few quick strides to open the door for her. Rei smiled sweetly up at him before her slate-gray eyes dropped to admire the way the tuxedo accented his muscular form. She ran her small hands down his sleeves before linking her fingers with his and giving them a gentle squeeze. He hoped she didn’t notice that they were trembling. “You look so handsome,” she praised, looking back up at him lovingly.

“Thank you, Mother,” Shoto smiled. He walked backward into the room, tugging on his mother’s fingers so she would follow, and Rei gently shut the door behind her. She walked to the floor-length mirror to inspect her own look— a baby-blue dress patterned with white flowers tied together with white flats and a baby-blue headband. “You also look lovely,” he added while retrieving another bottle of water from the mini-fridge in the corner. Rei hummed gratefully at his appraisal, watching him guzzle half of the plastic bottle through her reflection.

“Are you nervous, dear?” she asked abruptly. Shoto flinched in surprise, which made him lurch forward and spill water down his windpipe. He spluttered and coughed, eyes watering at the burning sensation overtaking his throat, while Rei turned around to look at him in concern. As he wiped the stream of water and spit from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, he debated lying to her. However, all notions of that flew out the window when he caught her soft, motherly gaze. “It’s natural, dear,” she reassured as she walked over to him.

Lie. She doesn’t need to know, chimed that anxious beast. It was tempting; Shoto could feel the excuse forming on his tongue. Except… no words came out. He looked helplessly at her, causing her expression to morph into one of intense concern. Shoto didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want to feel this way— selfish and egotistical and undeserving of his life.

His life with her.

“Shoto. Tell me what’s wrong,” she ordered, her voice just firm enough to abolish any remaining ideas of lying to her.

Shoto exhaled deeply and sagged down onto the small sofa next to the fridge. His mother could read him with scary precision, so there really was no use lying, anyway. She stopped in front of him to weave her slim fingers into his two-toned hair, and he responded by leaning forward to press his forehead into her belly. Rei softly scratched along his scalp in rhythmic, soothing strokes, and though she really hadn’t said anything, even the action alone made Shoto relax just the tiniest bit.

“What’s bothering you?”

He expected her to ask him if he was having second thoughts, just like the rest of them—but she didn’t. Shoto swallowed thickly before answering in a tiny voice. “I just realized how lucky I am, and I’m not quite sure I’m deserving of it.”

“What makes you say that, my love?” she questioned. Shoto pushed himself further into her stomach, comforted by her soft, soothing presence. Yet all the while, something nickered in the back of his mind. You abandoned her for years. You don’t deserve her comfort. Sickened by the thought, Shoto pushed himself away, grabbing a throw pillow to bury his face in it instead. He heard Rei softly gasp; then, the couch cushion dipped beside him as she tentatively sat down. He curled around the throw pillow, stomach whirling as all his anxieties came to a boil.

“Shoto,” she whispered and laid a gentle hand on the small of his back. “Talk to me, Shoto.”

Even though he had rejected her in favor of the pillow, he found himself falling against her. She held him close as he curled against her side. He was so much bigger than her now, but he still felt like he fit naturally into her petite frame. Slowly, he pried his face away from the pillow to reveal that the fabric had darkened with tears. He looked at her brokenly, the salty droplets rolling down his cheeks.

“Am I selfish, Mother?” he asked hoarsely, horrifiedly. Surely he must be, if everyone kept asking him if he would turn tail and run. “If I’m selfish, and am turning everyone away, then won’t… won’t I end up pushing her away and breaking her heart?” Just the thought of it broke Shoto’s, shattered it into a million little pieces. The love of his life, his dream, his salvation—the thought of doing that to her made him want to die, and the thought that he was already well on his way there made him want to die right now.

“Shoto, sweetheart,” Rei breathed and pulled him into a crushing hug. Shoto squeezed his eyes shut and buried himself into her, breathing in her scent of floral perfume and ice water. She kissed the top of his head before resting her cheek against it. “You are not selfish. What on Earth has gotten that into your head?”

“I just… Everyone keeps asking if I’m having second thoughts. Fuyumi was really upset thinking that I won’t be around anymore, and then Father came to talk to me about how far I’ve come as a hero, and then Izuku and Katsuki were worried about me, and—” he sucked in a breath after everything came tumbling out, trying to sort his disordered thoughts. “I just… Everything seems like it’s falling into place, and I just can’t help but think that it shouldn’t be. That it’s too easy, and because of that, I must be messing up somewhere, right?” As he looked at her, conflicted, Rei smiled reassuringly and brushed a strand of his red-and-white hair out of his face.

“Shoto, honey, you deserve everything you’re being given. If I can’t convince you of that, though,” she smiled mischievously and gestured at the door with her chin, “maybe she can.”

A blush exploded up from Shoto’s neck to flush all the way to the crown of his head. He grabbed the pillow and smashed his face into it, flopping across Rei’s lap to smoosh down into the couch for good measure. His mother laughed at his overreaction, barely masking the click of heels over the wood.

“Shoto?” came the tentative voice. What is she doing here? He thought, heart pounding in his throat.

“Sorry,” he heard Izuku say meekly. “Shoto was just so out of sorts… I thought the only one who could snap him out of it was her…”

“Idiot! Didn’t I say it was bad luck?” Katsuki scolded. Shoto heard him huff and the creak of the pressed fabric of his tuxedo as he crossed his arms. “But, Icy-Hot is acting pretty weird today… All right, do your stuff.”

Shoto just squirmed uncomfortably, listening to the ruffles of the lace and the soft click of heels as the woman he would be meeting at the aisle in another hour or two stopped beside him.

“Shoto,” Momo said, the laughter evident in her voice. God, he loved her voice. It was like a song, high and sweet. “Honey, what’s the matter?”

“Can’t look,” he mumbled evasively. “Bad luck.”

“You don’t have to look at me, then,” she chuckled, reaching down to soothingly run a hand over his back. He found himself arching a little into her touch, calm spreading through his nerves. “Just talk to me, sweetie.” Her white gown ruffled as she kneeled down on the floor beside him. Shoto dug his fingers into the pillow, wondering if there was a way out of this mortifying situation. There wasn’t, and he really didn’t want an out, anyway. She continued to stroke down the length of his spine. “Shoto, honey, you know you’re not selfish, right?”

The silence told Momo all she needed to know. She exhaled deeply, and he didn’t have to look at her to know she was wearing that sweet, loving smile she always wore when she comforted him. “Let me tell you something. Not for a single second have I felt neglected, nor have I had any inclination that you were sacrificing your personal life for the sake of your career,” she iterated slowly. Shoto squirmed as her reassurance battled with the poisonous beast inside him.

“Maybe I haven’t done it to you yet, but… What about my friends and family?”

“Boys?” Momo asked, presumably looking at Katsuki and Izuku. “Have you ever felt like Shoto hasn’t been a good friend?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Izuku blurted. “You’re an amazing friend! I can always count on you to be there when I need it, no matter what we’re doing.”

“Yeah. If anything, he can shove off, the Icy-Hot bastard.”

“Kacchan!”

“What? He’s up our asses all the time!”

“That’s because we’re partners, Kacchan! We’re gonna open up our own agency, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean he has to show up at my house for some stupid soba party he decided to have without telling anyone!”

Shoto found his lips curling into a tiny smile into the pillow. It was a shame that bickering was so familiar, and so comforting. Momo giggled sweetly and patted him on the back.

“See, honey? Your friends certainly don’t think you’re selfish and pushing them away.”

Although it was a start, Shoto couldn’t help but think of his sobbing sister.

“But… Fuyumi…”

“Shoto, that isn’t what Fuyumi meant at all,” Rei chortled and rubbed the back of his head. “Fuyumi just felt like a mother bird watching her chick leave the nest… Women get emotional over things like that. Your sister—and the rest of us, for that matter—all know you love us very much and want to stay an active part of our lives. I’ve enjoyed every minute of watching you grow into a man, and have never felt like you were abandoning me. You’re growing up. That is a reality we must face, and sometimes… It’s a little tough for us, that’s all.”

“That’s right,” Momo seconded. “See? We all love you, Shoto, so much. Please don’t ever think that you’re selfish, because you’re far from it.” He felt his eyes water as the emotions caused her voice to crack, indicating she was on the border of tears. Though he couldn’t look at her like he wanted to, he groped blindly in the air, searching for her hand. Momo caught it in both of hers to give it a tight squeeze, then pressed a lingering kiss to his knuckles. “Every day I’m thankful that you’ve chosen to love me,” she murmured against his skin, and he felt her tears drip down onto his hand. “My selfless hero.”

“Momo,” he groaned. When she hummed against his hand, he smiled weakly. “I appreciate you coming to cheer me up, but if you don’t leave now, I’m going to have to commit some wedding taboo.”

Momo laughed heartily, uttering small “okay’s” between her giggles, and slowly stood up. His fingers skimmed against the soft fabric of her lace skirt, and he found himself extraordinarily tempted to peek; but he didn’t. He knew that it would be a feeling like no other when he saw her walking down the aisle, so he just had to wait a little bit longer.

“Thank you both for looking out for him,” Momo said to Katsuki and Izuku as she left. “I’ll see you soon!”

Shoto waited until the clacks of her heels faded before he slowly sat up, rubbing at his tear-sticky face. Rei looked at him with a loving smile.

“Do you feel better, sweetie?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded with a sleepy smile. Having an existential crisis sure was exhausting. Still, his nerves soon began to buzz with the anticipation of what was yet to come. “How long until the ceremony?” he asked, looking expectantly at Izuku and Katsuki.

“About forty-five minutes, but it doesn’t matter, because there’s no way in Hell I’m letting you walk out like that. Get your ass in here!” Katsuki growled as he marched over and snatched him up by the collar. Shoto could only stumble after him as he was dragged into the groomsmens’ room, while Rei and Izuku both looked on laughing.

Forty-four minutes later, Katsuki had combed his messy hair back to submission and managed to erase almost all evidence of his puffy eyes and teary cheeks.

Now, Shoto stood rocking on his heels in front of the steel altar woven with ivy, wine-red roses, and white dahlias. Momo’s bridesmaids— Ochako, Mina, Tooru, and Tsuyu—were across the altar on the left, while Shoto’s groomsmen—Katsuki, Tenya, Inasa, Kirishima—and his best man Izuku were behind him to his right. Stretching out before him were rows of chairs, each one filled by someone special in his and Momo’s lives. Their families sat in the front row with bated breath. The ceremony was held in the main room while the reception would be held in an adjoining one—and in between them was a winding spiral staircase that Momo would be walking down any moment.

Shoto straightened up as the pianist began to play. His heterochromatic eyes were fixated on the staircase and his breath stilled in his chest. He caught the flash of her heel first, then the ruffles of her lace skirt as she slowly began to descend from upstairs. Shoto’s mouth gradually fell open as she came down from the heavens like an angel, here to grace his undeserving mortal self with her rapturous love. She was chuckling quietly to her father, who held her arm as he guided her down the steps. Kyoka came down last, carrying the long train of Momo’s dress.

He had been right to wait. It was a gorgeous sleeveless mermaid gown that hugged her beautiful figure in all the right ways. A swathe of wine red cut the skirt in half and adorned the bodice of her dress in thin, swirling threads that looked like roses. Her soft tresses of black hair were piled above her head before falling down in luscious curls to frame her face. A tiara was tucked into her hair, securing the sheer white veil cascading over her. She held a bouquet of white and red flowers as she slowly walked down the aisle, which had been laden with rose and dahlia petals by the flower girl. Even through the veil, Shoto could see her brimming with joy just by the aura radiating off her.

When she stopped next to him, giving her father a kiss on the cheek before he left to sit with the rest of the audience, Shoto could only gape in pure awe. He didn’t even register the priest speaking.

“Honey,” Momo laughed quietly. “You might want to pay attention.”

“Right,” he said and snapped his mouth shut, blushing as a few of the wedding party snickered and elbowed one another. His gaze snuck back to his beautiful bride, the love of his life, who stood so patiently waiting to read her vows. When she felt him staring, she smirked and looked at him out of the corners of her eyes.

“What?”

“I’m just realizing how lucky I am,” he explained softly. She looked at him with a confused smile. “I get to share this life I’ve made with the most wonderful woman on the planet. I thought at first I wasn’t worthy of it, but now… I’ve realized.”

“Realized what, Shoto?”

“Why I worked so hard for a life like this to begin with. I wanted to become a man deserving of your love, Momo,” he explained, reaching out to gently ghost his fingers over hers. “I’m just really glad to hear that you think I’m worthy.”

“Silly,” she laughed, tears slipping down her cheeks and clinging to the sheer lace of the veil. “You’ve always been worthy.”

Maybe that’s the way she felt. It was just a testament to how beautiful she was, right down to her soul. But now, after this whirlwind of a day, Shoto could rest easy knowing that he really was. Because she was his angel, his goddess, his salvation, and his life, and she was worthy of everything he had to give her and more—and he would work tirelessly every day to live up to that, to keep himself worthy.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#todomomo #shoto x momo #momo x shoto #momo yaoyorozu #yaoyorozu momo #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto #todoroki x yaoyorozu #yaoyorozu x todoroki #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero

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franeridart · 3 years

Text

Anon said: Ahh I really love your art, especially the way you present your story telling in the comics!! I smile every time I see them on my timeline haha thanks for making my (and likely many others) day! Wishing you all the best!!

Thank you so much!!!!! Especially glad to hear you think my comics’ storytelling works ;O; it means a lot!

Anon said: your satosugu arts give me life omg it's so beautiful and i love how smitten gojou is in all of them😭❤️ thank you for giving us pleasant escape from the disaster that is canon

AH GOSH thank you!!! Gojo lives all his feelings to the fullest doesn’t he! He’s a lot of fun to think about as happy and in love, he gives of the feeling of a warm hug to me ;; back in high school Geto was more reserved with his feelings, but I think he’d show it in his own very soft ways.....ahhhhh man, I love them ;;

Anon said: Your Satosugu is giving me life and also the fluff i need because HOLY SHIT THOSE CHAPTERS ;-;

I KNOW gege really looked at the old gen and went “enough with these dudes” huh lmao but I’m excited to see how everything is gonna turn out from now on! Esp since having been abandoned by the elders the protags are gonna have at the same time more options and less wiggle room.......... interesting!! Can’t wait!

Anon said: hey hey hey i just found your acc and i'm so invested in it already GDJSKALA I LOVE YOUR ART as a beginner like can't draw a circle beginner i truly admire your work also do you have any tips on what i should do to improve my art? because i'm on the brink of giving up istg cause my progress is just none there's no progress idk what to do like pls help me HAHAHHAHA idk what to watch how to practice what to do nothing absolutely nothing but i'm trying my best to hang on cause whenever i keep seeing artists like you it just makes me hang on and be like just keep going but even though i say that i'm going nowhere still so pls help... - 🍄

Ah man, I’m glad I can make you feel like keeping trying!! I answered an ask like this a while back here and I can’t say I have anything new to say on the matter? I hope it’ll help you! In the end the biggest suggestion I can give you is to try to figure out what it is that you want to draw and just draw it! Even if you don’t know how to, just draw it the way you can! As long as the act of drawing itself makes you happy more than the final result you’ll keep up with it and the improvement will come for sure!

Anon said: your art always brightens my day. thank you for sharing it!

Thank you for liking it!!! ;;O;;

Anon said: Idk anything about jujutsu kaisen (I hope I write it well), but seeing your fanarts tempts me to start watching it 😍😍😍

I hope you’ll like it if you do try it!!!!! It’s not a story for everyone, but it is a great story for its own genre! And the studio animating it is doing a wonderful job of making it a work of art too TT0TT

Anon said: Hi! Don’t mean to bother but I wanted to let you know that the user yslkeii on tik tok has reposted some of your art. It’s the “some of my favorite dilfs” video, I think the thumbnail is a photo of Levi Ackerman. She knows that none of the artists in the vid allow reposts but won’t take it down so I figured I’d let them know

Thanks for letting me know! Sadly, I have literally no clue how to act on this for tik tok orz if they could at least credit................ I’m not even too opposted to having my stuff used in videos if there’s credit...................................sigh

Anon said: Hello, I was wondering if I could use some of your old mha art as a reference? I won’t post it anywhere, or trace your work I promise!

Sure you can!! If you don’t mean to post it you don’t even need to ask for permission! Just, you know, my stuff is full of mistakes everywhere so don’t take it too much as a good source for proper anatomy reference and stuff like that!

Anon said: a thought i've been sitting on, having not seen it, that is sending me. gojo/geto color pallet swap

You know, I did see that a while back! White-haired Geto and black-haired Gojo, it was stunning! Didn’t look much like themselves though, Gojo especially hahaha the white hair is really distinctive of him, isn’t it? With it black he kinda looks like first-year!Yuuta with sunglasses hahaha

Anon said: Hey! How you doing? So, i wanted to ask you if I could use one of your Kamijirou's fanarts in my Twitter edit, with credits of course! I hope you get mad with this shitty ask, i totally understand if you don't let me use, is your right ♡

I’d prefer it if you didn’t, sorry!!

Anon said: huhghhuhfjfjd i was scrolling thru your art and i hit a todokiribaku thing you made for a friend an d honestly that's all ive ever needed in life. your friend's taste is impeccable *sobs*

She does doesn’t she!! That’s still one golden ot3, I doubt that’s gonna change any time soon

Anon said: sfdghffgdgd gojo has the right idea. they should just make out

They should!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I wish they had!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said: i've been looking at your art for months and i //just// realized you've started drawing noses from different angles *facepalm*

I’m trying my best!! It’s one of the things that limited my style the most AND one of the most difficult things for me to tackle, so I’m giving it a shot but still, you know, expect them to stay inconsistent for a while haha

Anon said: so five ish years ago i followed you for haikyuu, then got into bnha through your art and now im very tempted to watch jujutsu kaisen because of you as well

ANON!!!!!! I’m so glad and happy you kept me company this long and through this many fandoms!!!! TTATT if you do try jjk I hope you’ll like it! And if you don’t and decide to leave that’s okay too, I’m just really grateful you stuck around this long already!!! ;;A;; <3<3

#fran answers #long post #have you guys listened to the new hayley williams album btw #i've been listening to it on repeat #getting my stsg feelings all over the place hahaha #sorry miss williams #break-up/i still love you though songs are a one track train for me lately #ah also #jjk spoilers #since we talk about stsg and all #:D

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sakurablossomcreamlatte · 4 years

Text

tiny giants made of tinier giants

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Relationships: Dipper Pines & Ford Pines

Characters: Dipper Pines, Ford Pines, Stan Pines (mentioned), Mabel Pines (mentioned)

Words: 3,596

Summary: “It’s two AM, and Ford has a visitor.”

[AO3]

why would I work on any of my own WIPs or try and get my life together when I could write oneshots

(this work was inspired by this super sweet comic by @rosesanddoodl3s! I hope you don’t mind, I just really loved it and had to write some of my feels out)

Ford’s been back in his own world for approximately thirty-two hours, and yet it’s almost like he never left - sitting at his desk in his old room, scribbling in the back of his second journal and muttering hissed curses between his teeth. The Oregon sky sits inky and indigo outside the panes of his window, studded with stars, and despite their apathetic, twinkling benevolence Ford can’t shake the feeling that they’re watching him.

It’s not something he can just let go of after thirty years on the run between dimensions.

On top of snatching away his chance to finally take out that demon once and for all, mercilessly and swiftly as he was powerless to stop it - his idiot brother’s activation of the portal literally created an interdimensional rift. He spent most of the day figuring out a way to contain it... and subsequently wrestling the slippery splashes of interdimensional matter around the portal room into the glass orb he was able to create. At least he’s in good enough shape to do so, despite his age - not that Stan would have a clue, if the beer gut he’s developed over the years is anything to go by.

He crosses out one equation and scribbles another, tugging at his hair in frustration. All that stands between Bill and his goals now is a veil of worryingly breakable glass.

There has to be something else he can use to protect everyone until he can find something stronger. Project Mentem, maybe? Would the machine still even work? It would probably need some level of repair after thirty years of disuse - not that he’d even used it successfully the first time round.

A tentative knock on the door jolts him from the letters and numbers that are starting to spin on the pages in front of his eyes, and he really hopes it’s not Stan - but then again, Stan’s not really the type to knock either. Brow creasing, Ford turns to face the door. “Yes?”

The door slowly creaks open, and he can’t stop himself from raising an eyebrow at the sight of the boy twin - Dipper, that’s it - hovering apprehensively in the doorway, clutching what looks like the comforter from his bed. “Um, Great-Uncle Ford?”

“Dipper?” Ford frowns again, closing the journal and setting his pen down as he checks his watch. It’s after two AM. “What are you doing up?”

Dipper hesitantly crosses the threshold, and as he steps into the dim light of the room Ford notices that his eyes are red - and a little puffy. “I, uh…” he averts his gaze, biting his lip, “...couldn’t sleep.”

“I… see.” Ford can feel his heart sink a little. Dipper and Mabel were certainly a lot to take in upon his arrival back in this dimension, considering the thought of descendants hadn’t even crossed his mind - but they seemed assured of themselves, despite the way Dipper had almost fainted and/or thrown up upon discovering that yes, Ford was the one who wrote the journal he was clutching in his hands. The bright-eyed expression of hope and determination the boy had turned to him with as he’d pulled the memory eraser gun from his rucksack was a stark contrast to the one on his face now, and Ford’s struck out of nowhere with a sudden urge to protect him - his sister, too. He’s only known them for a day and he already knows he never wants to see them cry. Ever.

Stan might want him to stay away from them, but he certainly can’t stop him from caring about them - and if Dipper’s down here of his own volition, Ford certainly won’t push him away. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“Something like that.” Dipper hugs the comforter to himself a little tighter, and Ford makes a decision, rising from his desk and crossing the room to take a seat on the couch. The kid’s wide-eyed gaze follows him, and Ford simply pats the cushion next to him as an invitation.

Dipper comes to sit on the couch next to him, tugging the worn, patched blanket around his shoulders. There’s still something hesitant in the movements of his limbs, like he’s holding himself back, and something twinges uncomfortably within Ford’s chest. He doesn’t want either of the children to feel like that around him - but he just wants to protect them from the dangers Stan’s opened their world up to, regardless of how inadvertent it might have been, and for that he probably needs to keep his distance. Even now he feels like he’s breaking some arbitrary rule, with Dipper perched on the couch at his side - before a wave of indignation washes it away. It’s Ford’s house, damn it, not Stan’s - despite what he may have told them… and everyone else in this town.

“Any reason you came to me rather than Stan…?” Ford ventures. He’s absolutely not against it - if anything, he feels strangely honoured that one of the kids came to him seemingly looking for comfort - but considering how long they’ve known him against how long they’ve known Stan, he has to wonder why. Dipper simply stares at his socked feet instead.

Were ten year olds always this… small? Both the boy and his sister barely come up to Ford’s - and Stan’s - elbows. Are they just short for their age? What were we like compared to Dad?

He wonders if it’s a good thing that he’s struggling to remember.

“I….” Dipper starts, and then seemingly gives up on himself, thin shoulders slumping with a sigh. “Sorry. I just - I dunno. I don’t think Grunkle Stan’s… mad at me, as such, but I kind of… said some things to him yesterday.” He averts his eyes, curling a little further in on himself.

Of course. Ford’s still smarting at the idea that his brother claimed his name as his own (and almost certainly amassed an impressive criminal record under it). Stan obviously cares about these kids - that part’s so glaringly obvious that even Ford can’t deny it - but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s essentially betrayed them.

“Well,” Ford concedes, “it’s… a lot to take in. I think you’re handling it better than I might have at the age of ten.”

Dipper looks up at him, stricken. “I’m twelve.”

Ford makes a mental note to correct his journal entry on the boy later. “I see. My apologies.”

His great-nephew (and that feels so bizarre to think, knowing that less than forty-eight hours ago he wasn’t even aware of the kid’s existence) just deflates even further. “It’s... okay, I guess. I know I’m short.” He pulls his knees up to his chest. “I mean, it’s just really annoying right now. Grunkle Stan’s really tall - and so are you, actually - and so’s my dad. I guess I can’t be short forever, but… I dunno.”

Right, their father. Shermie’s boy - David.

“How is Shermie, anyway?” Ford ventures, and no sooner have the words left his mouth than he wishes he hadn’t asked - because at the mention of their elder brother’s name Stan’s face immediately falls, any light that might have remained leaving his eyes, and that tells Ford pretty much everything he needs to know.

“What’s your father like?”

The question leaves Ford’s lips before he even really has the time to think about how random it is. He hasn’t even seen David since… what, Thanksgiving in third year of college? His nephew was barely four or five years old at that point, a rambunctious child with big brown eyes and a mop of chestnut-coloured curls who gleefully ran around their parents’ apartment while Shermie chased after him, throwing out frantic, stuttered apologies in their dad’s direction. It’s crossed Ford’s mind every now and then while jumping between dimensions, but he’s always pushed it away just as quickly, not wanting to dwell on the pain of everything else he threw away the second he shook Bill’s hand.

Dipper’s seemingly just as taken aback by the question as Ford is, and when he lifts his head to look up at him, brown eyes wide beneath his fluffy chestnut fringe, for a second it’s almost like he’s looking at a carbon copy of David himself… although he thankfully hasn’t inherited the infamous Pines nose. “My dad?”

“Ah - yes.” Ford coughs, averts his own eyes. “I suppose - well, Mom babysat for Shermie sometimes.”

Dipper’s brow lifts a little in the light of recognition, before furrowing again in thought. “He’s…” he trails off, visibly searching for the right adjective. “Nice. Kinda goofy, I guess. Mom always says that’s where Mabel gets it from.”

“What does he do?” Ford presses.

“He’s a software programmer.” Dipper’s shoulders relax, if only by a fraction. “And Mom’s a lawyer.”

“A software programmer, huh?” A memory of Fiddleford holding up a laptop prototype with bright, shining eyes briefly floats to the surface, and a stinging pang of regret bounces painfully against the inside of Ford’s ribcage, and he tries to focus on the child sitting next to him - family that he didn’t even know he had. It’s more than he expected, and more than he could have asked for. “Does he work a lot?”

“Yeah,” Dipper answers, kicking his feet under the seat of the couch. “He has his own business, but he works from home a couple of days a week - and he tries cooking dinner sometimes, but he’s not great at it.” His shoulders twitch beneath his blanket, the shadow of a laugh bubbling up. “One time he made us spaghetti sauce with ramen noodles - it was so gross. When Mom got home we ended up ordering Chinese food instead.”

Ford has to chuckle at that. “You know Shermie was never a great cook, either.”

Dipper relaxes a little more, and his shoulder bumps against Ford’s elbow as he leans a tiny bit closer. “I don’t remember a whole lot about Grandpa Shermie,” he admits, hesitantly. “Mom always says he really loved us, though. And Dad always took us to the planetarium on our birthday, because he said that was his favourite thing to do with his dad when he was a kid.”

And even if Ford’s trying to stave off his own looming anxiety about the very real possibility of the world as they know it ending, there’s something in his nephew’s words that lifts his own battle-scarred heart by just a touch. Maybe it’s knowing now that for all he left behind him when he hightailed it out of Backupsmore with two PhDs and a fat research grant cheque, back home Shermie turned out to be a good man, bringing the happy, excitable child Ford once knew as his nephew along that path with him. Seeing that David apparently grew up to be a good man himself, if the little smile that tugs at the corner of Dipper’s mouth when he talks about his parents is anything to go by.

At least someone in this family of ours turned out to be remotely functional.

Ford’s next question emerges a little more easily, the distance between them slowly beginning to close in fractional increments. “Did they give you your nickname?”

The question had already arisen when Stan was catching him up on the family history - the name Mabel is a little old-fashioned, although sweet in its charm, but surely nobody would ever call their child Dipper legitimately? - and Stan had simply shrugged and grunted something along the lines of, ‘Look at the little goofus’s forehead. It’s like someone spilled hot sauce on his face.’

He would, if the kid would stop vibrating with anxiety/pen clicks long enough to sit still. Not that it was even necessary, with the carefully inked sketch - which, sure enough, was a dead ringer for the Big Dipper - he’d found flipping through the third journal under the entry titled, ‘Your new author!’.

He’s ten - no, twelve. Ford won’t hold it against him.

Back in the present, Dipper nods. “Dad said Grandpa pointed it out to him when we were little and then he couldn’t unsee it, and then they both started calling me Dipper and it just… stuck.” He hugs his knees. “I feel like it fits. My real name’s kind of dumb, anyway.”

There’s probably not much that could be dumber than naming a pair of twins Stanford and Stanley, but Ford decides not to push it. “Well, it’s certainly unique.”

Dipper shrugs and averts his gaze, and a silence falls between them… but after a few moments, there’s a soft weight against Ford’s arm as he leans against him.

Slowly, hesitantly, he lifts his arm to rest it around the boy’s shoulders. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s expecting - but Dipper doesn’t jolt, or flinch away. Instead, he simply shifts to rest his head against Ford’s chest with a soft exhale.

That in itself can only be a testament to the kind of fathers Shermie and David turned out to be. When Mabel threw her little sweater-clad arms around his neck earlier that night and chirped, “goodnight, Grunkle Ford!”, the wave of longing and affection that surged through his chest was so powerful that it both ached and almost took him off his feet at the same time.

He’d forgotten what love - and the affection that goes hand in hand with it - felt like, and in one simple hug from a niece he didn’t even know he had, it had come rushing back with all the force of a tsunami. These kids - Mabel especially - are so strangely warm and open, with each other, and with Stan and that young man - what was his name, Zeus? no, Soos - and now with Ford himself, too. And Dipper could barely make eye contact or stop shaking, but in the middle of the night, worn down by exhaustion - and he hasn’t missed the shadows under the boy’s eyes, either - he’s far more subdued, seemingly removed from the stammering, gagging ball of pen-clicking anxiety that had first greeted him after he’d set foot back in this world.

Either way, they’re certainly a far cry from himself and Stan.

Belatedly, Ford realises that his eyes are stinging a little, and he awkwardly clears his throat. Dipper doesn’t say anything. Beneath his fringe, his eyes are distant, and Ford can only wonder what he’s thinking.

“Is…” he winces at how his own voice breaks the silence, but they’ve already crossed this line. He doesn’t even know what it means to be an uncle, but if something’s bothering the kid, he wants to help. “Is there... another reason you can’t sleep, Dipper?”

This town’s fascinating, but it’s also dangerous, and in those six years he lived here Ford had more than his fair share of close shaves. Dipper’s thin arms are covered by his blanket right now, but during the day, the thin lines and dots of scars and scrapes that traverse his skin haven’t escaped Ford’s attention.

Ford can only wonder what he’s seen, and he hopes to God it’s not the same thing that sparked his own suffocating paranoia.

He can feel Dipper’s shoulders stiffen beneath his forearm, and for a few long moments, another silence descends.

When Dipper does answer, his voice is quiet, partially muffled by his comforter. “S-sometimes it’s just…” he trails off, shifting slightly against Ford’s chest. “Difficult.”

It doesn’t exactly provide much of an explanation, and Ford sighs. It was probably a step too far to expect Dipper to open up right away - if anything, he’s grateful for the way he’s here with him now, even if it’s explicitly against Stan’s wishes.

Dipper’s voice breaks the quiet once again. “Anyway… I wanna know more about you. Like…” he trails off, searching. “What were you and Grunkle Stan like when you were twelve?”

A laugh bubbles up in Ford’s chest at the innocence of the question. It’s a lifetime ago now, like Stan had said. Before they thought anything could ever break them apart, when they were just two identical best friends - brothers, even - with a dream of sailing away from their shitty little town.

“Didn’t Stan already tell you? He was a troublemaker and I was… well, a nerd, I suppose.”

Dipper leans against his side, relaxing once again - and it’s a relief. If they have to do this on his terms, that’s fine. Hopefully the kid might open up to him when he’s ready, whenever that may be. “I mean… we heard Stan’s side of the story. I guess I wanted to hear yours.”

Ford casts his mind back. “Well, Stan wasn’t wrong - he was a troublemaker.” A chuckle. “But then again, I suppose I wasn’t entirely innocent either…”

The stories flow from him more easily than he would expect them to - for some reason, it doesn’t hurt as much to tell Dipper, who listens, giggles here and there, occasionally interjects with some quip or aside that shows Ford that for all that’s happened in the last forty or fifty years, there are parts of his brother that haven’t necessarily changed. With each story he recalls, hazy days gone by that leave his lips as a shared memory, Dipper slumps a little further into his lap - and in some complete paradox, the heavier the kid rests against him, the lighter his heart feels.

Somewhere in the back of his mind as he’s regaling Dipper with the tale of Fiddleford’s disastrous attempt at a college open mic night - guest starring that godforsaken banjo - he wonders if it might be worth revising the entry he wrote about the kid in the third journal.

It’s still painful to think about Fiddleford, though, and Ford hopes that one day he’ll get the chance to apologise.

Even so, it still comes back to Stan. It often does. And for some reason, it’s easier to separate them in his mind - Stanley, the goofy, scrappy little smartass with half his front teeth missing who always pulled Ford up by his armpits when bullies knocked him down and tried to pin most of his mishaps on Shanklin the possum, and Stan, the exhausted, hollow-eyed stranger in a hooded jacket who showed up on his doorstep on that fateful day in 1982… who’s evidently reinvented himself as the man they now know as Stanford Pines, with a fez perched atop his now-grey hair and lies and blatant falsehoods falling from his lips.

“It’s kind of crazy imagining Grunkle Stan as a kid,” Dipper murmurs. He looks like he’s having a progressively harder time trying to keep his eyes open. “Like… Mabel and I only ever knew him as this weird old scam artist guy.”

Ford can feel the smile tug at his lips. Dipper and Mabel are going to grow up one day, too, and he hopes he’ll be able to witness it. “Well, we were all children once.”

It’s like he’s taking a back seat to himself as he tells Dipper these stories from another life. If he thinks about Stan and what they’ve become, it hurts - even if it’s dulled into a detached ache over the years, the occasional wave comes, raw and fresh, and it’s sharp like a knife. If he thinks about Stanley, it still hurts - but the edges are softened by the miasma that nostalgia casts over everything, and that’s not quite as painful. At least back then, he knew some sort of happiness, and at least he can vaguely recall what it felt like.

He can’t stop the chuckle that escapes him at the memory of Stan trying to convince their mother that the person who set off the whole school’s sprinklers and took off into the distance shouting ‘that’s how Stan Pines does it, suckers!’ was someone trying to frame him, and the way she’d absolutely eviscerated him in response.

“...and that was the last time Stanley ever lied to our mom.”

There’s no response from Dipper this time - no giggle, or eye-roll, or dry quip - and he looks down to see that the kid’s drifted off in his lap, head pillowed against Ford’s thigh as he breathes, slow and soft.

Well. In fairness, that was pretty much what he came down here for. Objective achieved… more or less.

Tentatively, he runs his hand over Dipper’s hair. It’s a complete bird’s nest - he obviously doesn’t brush it that often - but it’s thick and fluffy, just like David’s had been as a child. The heavy curtain of Mabel’s long tresses that had hit him in the face when she’d hugged him had been more or less the same.

Twins run in the family, he’d written in the journal. It’s a comforting thought - if anything, knowing that they hopefully won’t turn out like him and Stan.

He hadn’t wanted to throw it away - neither of them had, but Stan had no idea what he was dealing with, and if he had any inkling of just how dangerous the forces he was messing with were, most likely didn’t care. Irresponsible and knuckleheaded to a fault, from childhood to now - and honestly, probably to eternity.

As a scientist, Ford is used to determining things by probability and likelihood. Each situation has a predetermined number of potential outcomes… but sometimes, something greater - fate, the universe - has a hand in things. And maybe this time, she’s granted Ford a second chance of sorts. There’s a second generation of Pines twins, and they might have the potential to be better than he and Stan ever were.

“Alright, my boy,” he mutters to the one currently sleeping in his lap. “Let’s get you back into your own bed before Stan notices.”

#own writing #dipper pines #stanford pines #ford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction

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bronte-deserves-better · 3 years

Text

Hey @stars-and-splendors! I was your secret santa for the kotlc fandom gift exchange. Sorry this is a little late- I meant to give it to you Christmas day or the day after, but the fic got away from me a little...I hope the wait will have been worth it!

Without further ado, I present to you: 4.5k words of Keefe and Fitz trying to dance around their feelings for each other, feat. a few moments of shitty parents and some very tired friends/sisters.

Title: to find what you’re looking for

Summary:

The war is over. The Neverseen is defeated.

In the new, peaceful world, Keefe and Fitz are attending the Elite Towers, soon to graduate. Yet both of them feel like they're missing something. When Keefe comes up with a scheme to prank their parents, both of their worlds may change forever- with the help of a few exasperated friends and supportive elder gays, of course.

Wordcount: 4514

Warnings: homophobia, internalized homophobia, swearing.

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

“Hey. Psst. Fitz.”

Fitz jumped, startled at the voice. “Keefe? Where are you?”

“Over here. Ditching class. Like usual.”

He followed Keefe’s voice to the secluded little hallway that the other boy used for ditching, finding Keefe sprawled out on the bench as usual. “What are you doing here?”

“Ditching class, like I said. What about you, handsome?” Keefe flashed a smirk, which Fitz knew meant he meant that in a joking way. Or, figured, at least.

“Also ditching class.”

“Seriously? That’s not like you, Fitzy.”

Fitz shrugged. “I’m feeling rebellious lately, I guess. It just seems like we’ve all been through so much and yet adults are still trying to tell us what’s good for us, like we weren’t the ones who defeated the Neverseen.”

“Fuck, yeah. That’s definitely. Yeah.” Keefe stared at the ground, suddenly serious. “Everyone’s been like that, huh?”

“Well, not everyone, I guess. Sir Tiergan’s not bad about it, but he fusses so much about me and Sophie.”

“Oh, right, you’re supposed to be in telepathy. Won’t Sophie notice you’re gone?”

“Yeah, but that’s why I’m out here. No one will find me.”

Keefe nodded and patted the bench next to him, straightening up a little. “Come on, there’s room for two.”

“Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, staring at the white walls of the Level Six wing.

“So,” Keefe said eventually.

“So.”

“You wanna spill about what’s bugging you so much?”

Fitz could feel himself tense, but he forced his muscles to relax a little. Keefe just cared about him because they were friends. Yeah. “I don’t know. I just feel directionless. Like, we defeated the Neverseen and did this whole big thing, and now it’s over. It feels like- no, it is like- I’ve been fighting this war my whole life, Keefe.”

“Cause your dad-“

“Sent me to the Forbidden Cities when I was a child to search for Sophie.”

“Kinda a dick move of him, really.”

“N- Yeah. Yeah, it was a dick move of him.”

Keefe scooted a little closer, and Fitz’s breath caught just a tiny bit. “Hey, I know what it’s like. I mean, my dad never sent me to do illegal shit for him when I was a kid, yeah, but I mean….yeah. Mommy dearest and all. My parents are shit in a different way than your dad, but I get it. So I guess what I’m trying to say is…I’m here for you, and I know that sounds 100% cheesy but I really do mean it.”

“Oh. I mean, thank you. I should probably tell you I’m here for you too, since that really is true as well.” Fitz’s brain was not functioning, he decided.

“Ah, I knew that. You all told me so much back when mommy dearest was fucking up my life. Still, I appreciate it.”

“It’s always been true. Even when we were fighting over Sophie.”

Keefe snorted. “That was weird, honestly. Like, it was so obvious from the start that she wasn’t straight. Must’ve been pretty wild for you when she ended up with your sister, though.”

Fitz shrugged. “I had been over her for a while.” And questioning his sexuality, but he wasn’t going to tell Keefe that. Backers didn’t do that. Vackers weren’t gay- well, except Biana. But that was okay, Fitz knew she wasn’t any worse for it. Still, it wasn’t like he was gay.

“Fitzy boi, you with me?”

“Yeah sorry. Got lost in thought. What were you saying?”

Keefe grinned. “Well, I was saying that on the topic of shitty parents and gayness, I have an excellent way to piss off both our parents.”

“Go on?” Fitz was pretty sure Keefe’s plan would be ridiculously over the top and hilarious, but he was pretty ready to go along with whatever.

“Right, so, you know how there’s an end of year ball for Elite Tower students? Cause we have to be ready for the nobility and all? What if we went together?”

“Are you asking me out?” Fitz blurted.

“Ah, I wish. Nah, I’m asking if you’ll be my fake date to a ball so my dad will have a heart attack. If you’re okay with that, that is. Like, no pressure.” Keefe suddenly looked shy, and Fitz could hardly refuse that look. Besides, it would be fun to give his and Keefe’s dads a collective heart attack.

“Okay, I’m in.”

The next two weeks were spent plotting and planning as to how they would pull this off, with Sophie and Biana as their enthusiastic wingwomen.

“Okay, so, Biana’s already planning you guys’ outfits,” Sophie told Keefe as she walked back into her room at Havenfield, where Keefe was currently visiting.

“Tell her to make me look fabulous,” Keefe declared with a great deal of drama, doing his best to flop back onto the bed.

“I will, trust me. But I wanted to ask you about some other stuff related to this, since the Vackers are outfit shopping and you know I don’t do that.”

“Ok, fire away.”

“One, are you asking Fitz to this thing to piss off your dad or because you have a crush on him? Two, how dramatic should your prom-posal be?”

“As dramatic as possible.” Keefe hoped against hope Sophie would forget about her first question. “Like, we’ve got to be extra about it.”

“Ok. And about my first question?”

“I....I’m doing this for a lot of reasons. One, Fitzy boi needs to lighten up a bit. Two, I love him. Three, I would kill to see my dads expression when he finds out.”

“I kinda figured.”

“I’m that obvious? Guess I’ve upped my flirting game.” He shot a wink to Sophie, who just sighed.

“Keefe, you’re never as subtle as you think you are.”

“Damnit.”

“Yeah. Apparently your lack of subtly is only matched by my obliviousness.”

“Well, thankfully for me, Fitz is just as oblivious as you.”

Sophie sighed. “He’s going to find out someday. I did, you know.”

“Well I’ll make sure that day is far away, because he’s way out of my league.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nopity nope nope. You two deserve each other, and I mean that in a good way.”

“Stop being so nice,” Keefe whined.

“No can do. Now let’s plan how you’re going to dramatically ask him to elf prom.”

The ‘promposal’, as Sophie had deemed it, took place in the atrium of the Gold Tower. They had agreed that Keefe would do the asking, since Sophie was far more interested in arranging a dramatic proposition, and Biana was far more interested in making sure that the two boys would look fantastic for the party. So all Fitz had to do was hang around and wait for his best friend to show up.

Thankfully, Keefe didn’t keep him waiting long, sweeping into the room like he owned the place. Maybe he did own Foxfire, really, the gorgeous boy who could charm people with a wink. He was certainly charming Fitz, not that Fitz was going to tell him that.

“Hello, my dearest Fitz!”

“Hey, Keefe.”

“I have a question of utmost importance for you.” By now, Keefe had come close enough that Fitz could see a hint of a blush staining the other’s pale cheeks.

“Oh, go on?”

“Wellllll.” Keefe dragged out the word, fidgeting with something behind his back, which he whipped out to reveal a gorgeous bouquet with flowers of silver, gold, and elegant teal. “Will you be my date to the end of year ball?”

This is staged. This is all staged. He’s not really interested in you, Fitz reminded himself. Still, he must have sounded a little breathless when he replied. “Yes, I would love to.”

“Well then I shall await you at the bottom of the staircase two weeks from now!” Keefe bowed dramatically and handed him the flower arrangement.

“I’ll be there,” Fitz promised quietly, flowers tickling his chin and Keefe’s grin making his cheeks heat.

“Oh, wonderful.” Keefe smirked again and practically danced away as the rest of the prodigies stared at the two of them.

“I hear you caused quite the scene today.”

Keefe jumped, looking around and then finally down to see who had said that. “Oh, hi, Councillor Grumpypants. What are you doing here?”

Bronte glared at him without much real anger. “Sophie and I’s session is in this tower, remember? I’m just waiting on this landing because someone’s using our classroom right now.”

“Right, gotcha.” Keefe fiddled with the hem of his tunic, trying not to seem too nervous. “Do you disapprove of scene-causing? Seems like a pretty old and grumpy thing to do.”

“Ha ha. I might have few qualms about distracting other prodigies, but I see no harm in you asking Fitz to the end of year ball. Honestly, it doesn’t seem all that surprising that you did.”

“Do I vibe as that gay?”

“I have no idea what you mean by vibe, but yes, I assumed you were queer.”

Keefe snorted. “Okay, so even the old people think I’m hopelessly in love with my best friend.”

“Well, not exactly all that,” Bronte said dryly, “But as the…how did Zarina put it? ‘Gayest motherfucker on the Council’, I know a baby queer when I see one.”

“Gayest motherfucker on the Council…that’s fabulous.”

“Indeed. Now I have a session to get to, and I’m sure you do too, but…good luck with your date.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sure it will go well, and trust me, Leto will shut down anyone who tries to give you shit for it pretty damn quickly.”

“Good to know.” Keefe watched the older elf hurry away and up the stairs, muttering under his breath about ‘need to get an actual timepiece one of these days’. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all…

Fitz was pretty sure both Sophie and Sir Tiergan could tell he wasn’t actually concentrating that day in telepathy, too busy thinking about teal-and-silver flowers and Keefe’s little blush. Could Keefe really like him like that? Why did he even want Keefe to like him like that?

Sophie didn’t seem to mind, just sending him a few knowing looks, although Tiergan seemed vaguely worried. “Fitz, are you with us?”

“Oh, yeah! Sorry, Sir Tiergan.”

“There’s really no need to call me sir,” Tiergan sighed, for about the thousandth time since Sophie and Fitz had started telepathy sessions together. “Really. And no need to apologize either, you just seem a little distant today.”

“Probably got a lot on his mind,” Sophie spoke up, nudging Fitz gently. “I know I’d have a lot on my mind if someone brought me flowers and asked me to a ball.”

“Ah, yes. Do try to concentrate on your telepathy, but I can understand that.” Tiergan shot Fitz a gentle smile, and Fitz ducked his head and nodded.

The session went by fast enough, and before Fitz knew it, the session was over and Tiergan was asking him to stay back. “Not for long, I don’t want to make you later, but I figured I’d check in.”

“O- okay.”

“See you, Fitz!” Sophie called. “I’m going to go tease our lovely friend about how blushy he gets around you!”

“Bye,” Fitz called, and Tiergan smiled again.

“I was actually going to talk to you about that ‘lovely friend’, assuming that’s Keefe?”

Fitz stared at the slightly shorter elf, debating what to say. “Yeah- yeah, that’s him.”

“I guessed so.” Tiergan fiddled with his sleeves for a moment, seeming uncharacteristically hesitant. “I wanted to tell you that you two are very brave for this- it’s not unheard of, but it will be a shock. That, and I hope it will be somewhat easier for you than it was for me when I was your age.”

“You’re-“

“Have you seen the way I look at Leto?”

Fitz had to admit that was a fair point. “I guess I should have known earlier, but I didn’t want to assume.”

“Very polite of you, but I would find it more than fair to assume my queerness based off my general demeanor,” Tiergan said wryly. “Anyways, to bring us back around to our original topic of conversation, I also wanted to let you know that you have Leto and I’s full support. If anyone gives you shit for this, I want you to tell me and I will ensure they don’t get away with it.”

“Benefits of having the principal for a boyfriend,” Fitz muttered before he could think to stop himself, and then clapped a hand over his mouth. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been hanging out with Keefe too much.”

Tiergan flushed lightly. “No, no, you’re right. Though I will say, Leto has spent a long time trying to protect students who are cast out or fall through the cracks. Now that he’s in a position of power, neither of us have qualms about using it to help any student who could use it. So please, come to me or Leto if you need anything, or anyone bothers you. And I’m not saying that because I pity you or anything of the sort, but because I wish some adult had told me this when I was your age.”

“Oh.”

The older elf smiled sadly. “Indeed. But now I get to make sure the next generation has it better than I did, and that’s something.”

Fitz nodded. “I think that’s a really kind thing.”

“Thank you. It’s really the bare minimum of what I could do, but…somehow I never find the time to help out as much as I would like.” Tiergan glanced at the clock. “Anyways, I’m making you late for your next session, so hurry on your way. You can tell your mentor I kept you late and to take it up with me if they’ve got a problem.”

“Okay!” Maybe this wasn’t such a terrible plan after all…

The end-of-year-ball was approaching quickly, and Keefe’s nerves grew as quickly as the days between now and then passed. Which was very quickly, what with finals coming up. Fitz and Keefe were studying for them together, of course, which made for a lot of late nights in each of their rooms in the Silver Tower, laughing, talking, and pretending to quiz each other on the material but not getting far without getting distracted. Fitz was always beautiful, Keefe thought, but perhaps the most lovely when he was sitting in the cozy room, laughing at some silly thing Keefe had said or brandishing flashcards mock-sternly. His eyes shone a little in the silvery lighting, and his hair fell across his face cutely, and Keefe might have been a tiny bit in love. Just a bit.

So they kept hanging out together, one night after another. Sometimes they talked about fun things like baking or pranking, sometimes they talked about serious things like the past or the Black Swan, and (rarely) they studied. And before they knew it, they had passed all their finals and it was time for a ball.

Fitz fiddled with the clasp of his cape one last time as Biana put the final touches on his hairstyle. “Are you sure this is good enough?”

“Please, I know good fashion when I see it.” His sister flipped her hair, and then shot him a reassuring smile. “Keefe will pass the fuck out, in a good way. And all the stuffy nobles will think you look fabulous right before you dance with one of their sons.”

“How do you pass out in a good way?”

“I mean that you’ll knock everyone dead. Boys. Honestly.”

Biana turned him around to look at himself in the mirror, and Fitz did have to admit that she’d done a good job. He was wearing an elegant tunic in a shade of medium blue, nearly cobalt, and a much darker jerkin over that which faded from green to blue with elegant silver embroidery over it. His cape followed a similar color scheme, and it fit perfectly, falling around his shoulders and down to the ground, where the hem was also embroidered with silver and tiny flecks of lumenite. Biana had styled his hair slightly asymmetrical, more so than he would usually wear it, and sprinkled tiny bits of silver across that too. He didn’t know if he was drop-dead gorgeous per se, but it was an outfit he could feel confident in.

“Okay, you did a good job,” Fitz admitted.

“Of course I did. Now get on down there and knock them dead.”

His nerves only increased as he descended the staircase, despite his endless repetitions of ‘it’s not a real date’. It didn’t matter how much he said that, the fluttery feeling in his stomach about Keefe seeing him all dressed up was not going away.

When he reached the bottom, Keefe was already standing there, and Fitz momentarily forgot how to breathe. The other boy’s equally intricate ice blue jerkin matched his eyes perfectly, and his blonde hair had little bits of pure gold braided into the parts that were long enough to do small braids on. The rest was artfully messed as ever, but in the sort of way that made you think Keefe had spent a long time getting it perfect. His silvery boots made a click click noise on the silver floor as he stepped to greet Fitz, and Fitz had to blink a few times to get his mouth to work again.

“Hey there, Fitzy boi.”

“Hey.” It was a pitiful greeting, but it was the best he could really manage at the particular moment. “You look…really incredible.”

“And you’re as stunning as ever.” Keefe’s grin seemed less confident than usual, a hint of genuine shyness behind it as Keefe ducked his head a little.

“Flatterer.”

“Only the right level of flattery for you.” Keefe extended his arm. “Shall we go?”

Still barely breathing, Fitz took his arm as they headed for the Leapmaster.

Fitz was stunning. Beyond stunning. He was some entirely new level of gorgeous that Keefe would have to invent a word for when his brain started working again, which he doubted would be anytime soon given Fitz’s close proximity to him. Standing at the bottom of that staircase, all dressed up in his finery, he had truly looked like an heir to the Vacker Legacy, but he was so much more than that. Whether he’d been born a Vacker or into the least-well off Talentless family, Fitz would always have been kind, unique, handsome Fitz, and Keefe would have loved him just the same. Keefe doubted the courage and strength that Fitz always carried with him would be any different had he been born to a different family, doubted there was any universe in which Fitz wasn’t his gorgeous, fierce self.

He managed to concentrate enough to get them safely to the ballroom, although if he hadn’t, he had no doubt Fitz would have more than made up for it with his ridiculously strong concentration. Speaking of strength, Fitz was gripping Keefe’s hand tightly as they arrived, and Keefe squeezed back gently, staring over the crowded ballroom.

Tonight, nobles, parents, and Elite Tower students all mingled, a preparation for balls and parties that the Elite Tower students would likely attend later in life. It was a much looked-forward-to event. And Keefe and Fitz, two male prodigies, would be attending it together, which was an extremely rare occurrence. In fact, Keefe could already see people staring at them in their position on the landing.

He squeezed Fitz’s hand again. “Let’s go down to the dance floor, shall we?”

Fitz nodded shakily, and they descended the staircase arm in arm. The staring only increased, but if Keefe pretended that it was just girls staring at him in Level Four because they thought he was hot again, he could mostly ignore it.

What was harder to ignore were the furious parents sweeping over to them.

“Keefe, I can’t believe you would disgrace the family like this-“

“So good to see you with your friend, Fitz.” Alden looked like he was speaking through gritted teeth. Keefe would have liked to punch those teeth right out of his mouth.

“I know, Keefe is a wonderful boyfriend.” Fitz’s voice was calm, but electric blue spirals of fear drifted through Keefe’s emotional ‘vision’.

Before Alden had a chance to say anything further, Della lightly tugged his arm. “Let’s go say hi to the Glixina family, darling.” She shot them a tiny smile, prompting a wave of soft purple relief from Fitz as Alden allow himself to be dragged off.

Unfortunately for Keefe, Cassius was not so easily dissuaded. “Really, Keefe. Parading around with boys on your arm-“

“I make my own choices,” Keefe muttered.

“And is one of them this?”

Keefe forced himself to look up and smirk. “Nah, I didn’t choose to fall in love with him. Just to ask him out.”

Cassius sputtered more, but before he could gather the coherence to say anything, Tiergan had come sweeping over with all the frozen grace of a swan. “Excuse me, Lord Sencen. My dear friend Leto would like a word with you about your son. I’m sure you understand that some matters are very important.”

“Well, Sir Tiergan, I’m in the middle of speaking to said son currently.”

“This truly cannot wait. Please, follow me.” Tiergan swept away again, practically dragging Cassius in his wake.

Sorry about that, Tiergan’s voice echoed in Keefe’s head. Leto will thoroughly lecture him about all this, I promise. And you don’t have to talk to him anymore tonight if you don’t want to, we arranged the ball and we can keep him away from you.

Keefe startled, squeezing Fitz’s hand. “Fitz-“

“Yeah?”

“Can you transmit something to Tiergan? He just told me that he’d keep my dad away from us, I want to thank him.”

Fitz flashed a tiny, hesitant smile. “As you wish.” He closed his (stunning, lovely) eyes briefly, and then blinked them open again. “Sent. He says ‘of course, let me know if you need anything else’.”

“Thanks, Fitzy boi.” Keefe offered a grin of his own. “Now that the parents are out of the way…may I have this dance?”

“Of course.”

The dance steps were familiar, and that was lucky, since Keefe wasn’t exactly paying good attention to what he was doing. Not after everything that had just happened- and not when Fitz had a hand on his waist. Elven music wasn’t as good to lose yourself in as the human music Sophie had showed him, but Keefe found it pretty easy to get lost just focusing on Fitz. The music swirled around them, and the floor was steady under their feet, and even the stares of others weren’t so noticeable when it was just the two of them dancing together. One step. Another. Always in rhythm. Keefe wondered a little if this was what it was like for Cognates, if their minds synced the way dance partners who knew each other well did. He had to admit to a little jealousy that he would never know what the kind of bond felt like, but…hey. It was pretty okay to be an empath, especially since he could see Fitz’s bubbling pink-and-blue happiness float through the air. It might have been a difficult, nerve-wracking entrance, but Fitz was happy to be dancing with Keefe and that was all Keefe could really ask for. Although…Keefe frowned at the slight mist of green sorrow hanging around the other, tempering his joy and keeping the bubbles from floating as far as they should have.

“Hey, Fitz.”

“Yeah?”

“You good?”

“Yeah- yeah, I am.”

They took another few steps in silence.

“Hey, Keefe?”

“Yeah?”

Fitz sucked in a slow breath, and a few lines of tension pulled around his form. “When you told your dad that you had fallen in love with me…”

Shit. “Yeah?”

“Your heart didn’t skip any beats.”

It was Keefe’s turn to suck in a breath and try to find something, anything to say in reply to that. “Maybe- I mean, I was mostly trying to piss him off.” He could feel his treacherous heart skip one-two-three this time.

“I felt your heart skip that time.”

“Okay, so….maybe I liked you. A little. Or a lot. And maybe I think you’re handsome and brave and kind and all that, and maybe I asked you to the ball partially because my dad would be mad but partially because I just wanted to be with you but you’re Fitz fucking Vacker and I’ve never had a chance-“ Keefe forced himself to take a breath and a step back from Fitz, unable to bear feeling the other’s emotions as well as his own right now.

“Keefe, wait, I-“ Fitz reached out a hand, and then pulled it back. “I love you too. And I think you should know that because no matter how much better you think I am than you, or whatever, you’re always going to be the guy who pulled me out of my shy little shell as a kid and then kept doing it, over and over and over. You’re always going to be the guy who stuck with me even when I was a major jerk, the guy who helped pull me out of my shell again and realize I wasn’t as straight as everyone thought. And more than that, you’re Keefe. I know you think that’s a bad thing, but it’s not. It’s the highest compliment I could give.”

People were staring at them again.

Keefe barely noticed. “Give me your hand.”

“As you wish.” Fitz held out his hand, and Keefe pushed his empathy out to the other. A little hint of fear, of nervousness… lingering joy from the moments before, and beneath that, glowing golden hope. No guilt, no shame. Nothing to make him think Fitz was in any way lying even if what the other boy had just said seemed too good to be true.

“You really- you really love me like that?”

“Yeah.” Fitz laughed, a little sadly. “It took me forever to notice, but I should have known the day you asked if we could go to the ball together. Or before that, even.”

“Well I fucking love you too. Have since we were young, really, but Sophie fucked with my brain and I didn’t see it until you and Sophie broke up. I thought I was jealous of you, but...all this time, I’ve been jealous of her.”

Fitz’s smile was so, so gentle. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

“And I’m sorry I didn’t just ask you out the day I suggested this whole fake dating,” Keefe joked. “Seriously, you took your time, but…that’s okay. I was willing to wait.”

And the gorgeous teal-eyed boy who Keefe was starting to realize might be his reached out a hand to cup Keefe’s cheek. “Do you mind if I kiss you?”

“What a scandal it’ll be.” Keefe wasn’t sure he was actually breathing. “But no, I don’t mind.”

So Fitz kissed him in front of the entire goddamn ballroom, and Keefe couldn’t have been happier.

#fitz vacker #Keefe Sencen #keefitz #semp writes #this took forever skjhfshjkf #im so sorry im late

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rune-writes · 3 years

Text

Dear Zack... (I'll be here)

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

@zerith-week » Day 3: Letters

Word Count: 1916

Rating: G

Summary: What did Aerith write to Zack in the four years he was missing?

Note: this is my first time trying out this format. I hope you enjoy it :)

Chapter 3 of Of Wishes and Promises: Zerith Week 2021

Read on AO3.

Dear Zack,

How are you? It's me, Aerith. Sorry to send you a letter out of the blue. You haven't been answering your PHS lately. Tseng said you're busy, that your last assignment took you to the western continent and it'd be a while before you can return. So I figured I could send you letters instead. Mom said she used to do this with her husband when he went to the war. Isn't it nice? Exchanging letters like the old couples in stories. Tseng also offered to personally send this to you, so I'm sure you'll get this. Besides, I don't have a PHS, and I'm not going to borrow the Turks' all the time. I know they'll want something in return for letting me use their stuff. Anyway, how is work? Knowing you, you’re probably doing a great job at it, right? How is it like there? I heard you went to the mountains? Is the air as nice and fresh as they say? I hope you can take some time off between your work to enjoy the scenery. I'm sure it's beautiful. Maybe take a picture for me? I'd love to see the places you've been to. I’m fine here, by the way. So is Mom. Don’t worry about me okay and just focus on finishing your job. Take care, Zack. And stay safe.

Sincerely, Aerith

***

Dear Zack,

How are you? Are you still on the mountains? I still haven't heard back from you yet. But no pressure! I know how busy you must be! I can wait hehe. In return, I hope you don't mind me sending you all these letters. I hope they give you some sort of respite, no matter how small. The flowers bloomed especially brilliant today. I brought them around to decorate Leaf House and the community center. The elders all loved it. Are there any flowers blooming where you are, Zack? If there are, what kind? Our flower business is also gaining traction recently. More and more people come to visit our flower wagon. I have the kids to thank for that, I guess. They’ve been telling everyone that I’m on a mission to have flowers bloom all around Midgar. I hope everything is alright on your side, Zack. Stay safe.

Sincerely, Aerith

***

Dear Zack,

The Protection Squad is now well under way, and it seems it’s very well-received. Miss Livy from Leaf House (she’s the headteacher, if you don’t remember) said that since the orphanage operates thanks to everyone's donations, it’s only right for them to return the favor. So the kids have been going around patrolling the areas. Yep, that’s what they call it. They run errands and help people. They’re really turning out more and more like you. Which is a nice thing, actually. Some almost went as far as to accompany me to the playground. Because of the monsters, they said. Someone needed to protect me while you’re away. I appreciated it of course, but I couldn’t let them actually meet monsters, could I? The teachers would kill me if the children had all gone so far to a different reactor. Playing with me at the church is one thing, but going to Sector 6? I would say I could protect them—and I could, mind you—and I always take the safest road there too, but when you have six children under your care then three flying beasts come at you… I’d rather not take that chance. Anyway, enough about me. How is it going for you, Zack? It's been months since we last spoke. I hope everything’s alright there? Are you okay? Are you safe? I hope you get a lot of rest between your jobs. And meals. Some good healthy meals once in a while will do wonders. But I wonder if you can get those in the front lines. I would send you something, but… it’d probably go stale once it reaches you, I think. I pray for your safety, Zack.

Love, Aerith

***

Hi Zack,

Are you still busy? Tseng says you are. Sadly I don’t have anyone else to ask, so I guess he’s the only one I can trust. But sometimes, I wonder if he’s keeping things from me. Won’t be the first… won’t be the last either. You know, I had the most surprising guest today. Some girls visited me at the church, and from the accessories they were wearing, I think they’re your fan club. It’s funny to think you have a fan club. I’m not jealous, though! I just never thought SOLDIERs had fan clubs. I wonder if the other members have one too? That reminds me, I never asked how many of you there are, have I? It was nothing important though. They asked me if I knew you, and when I said I did, they asked what I thought of you. And if I had any messages for you. Weird, huh? It's not like I can't tell you that in person. Well, not now, maybe, but later when you come back. What's weirder is that they all looked so somber. I wonder what happened… Hey, Zack. Did something happen? I… overheard something… They were talking and I heard… It's not true, right? Tseng won't tell me anything, let alone the other Turks. They only said that you're fine. Just super busy that you barely have time to reply. And having bad reception. I can trust them, right? Please talk to me, Zack. I'll wait for you, however long it takes.

Yours, Aerith

***

Zack…

I can't stop thinking something might've happened to you. I don't know who to trust. I don't know who I can talk to. Tseng says you're fine. People say you might've gone missing. I don't even know if these letters are reaching you. Maybe Tseng's been lying to me from the start. Maybe something happened to you that day I couldn't reach you. Do you remember? That afternoon you called me all those months ago? You have no idea how happy that had made me feel. I was so afraid I'd been imposing on you when you’d been so busy at work, so when I received your call, my heart had almost burst! You told me that we could talk the next day, that I could call you if I wanted, and I did, but I couldn't reach… Zack, where are you? Tell me you're alright. Please.

***

Dear Zack,

I'm sorry for being so emotional in my last letter. I asked Tseng to give the letter back, but he said he'd already sent it to you. I'm not sure if I believe him now. I had another surprise guest today. A friend of yours. He said his name was Kunsel. Actually, he's been visiting me for a while now. Kind of regularly. Checking up on me, he said. On your behalf. That's sweet. You have such sweet friends. We talked, then took a walk outside. The weather was really nice this morning. I remember you talking about him a few times, but I didn't realize you were so close. Friends since your early SOLDIER days, he said. I'm… I'm holding onto hope, Zack. I know you're out there. Somewhere. I don't believe what they say. I don't believe what Tseng says. I only believe that you're still alive somewhere. So I'll be here. Always.

Forever yours, Aerith

***

Dear Zack,

I spotted wildflowers today. Just outside Sector 5. Funny, I never noticed them before. I never thought flowers grow anywhere outside the church, or my garden. I stared at them for so long, the people who saw me asked if I was alright. I was fine, of course. Mostly. I miss you, Zack. I wonder if this is the Planet’s way of telling me you’re alive somewhere. You know how wildflowers are, right? They’re small, but no matter how much people trample them, no matter how much the weather beats them down, they always persist. They endure, and survive, and I know that you’re going to pull through whatever ordeal you’re going through right now. I believe in you, Zack. I’m sending a pressed flower I did of one of them. They’re not much, but I hope they give you strength. I… don’t know if these are going to reach you, but I hope the Planet hears my pleas and sends my prayers to you.

Sending you all my love, Aerith

***

Dear Zack,

The sky was really bright today. I find myself looking at it more and more now. You're right. It's not as scary as I thought. I told you the reason I'm scared of it, but that's not all there is. I never did tell you about my mom, did I? Not Elmyra. My other mom. My real mom… She died when I was young, before Elmyra took me in. She died, and I saw her rise to the sky. As if it was sucking her in. I… never saw the sky growing up. You'd think that's why I fear it. But on the contrary, listening to Mom's tales about the outside world, seeing the big, open blue depicted in picture books… I couldn't help but be curious. But then Mom died, and the sky sucked her in. But I'm alright now. I think. Mostly. Because… I need to see if it'd sucked you in too. I want to know if you're still here.

Aerith

***

Dear Zack…

Lately, it feels like I’m just talking to myself here, with these letters. I don't know why I'm still writing these. They’re probably not reaching you anyway. I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Maybe it's become a habit by now. Maybe writing to you gives me some sort of solace, some sort of notion that you’re still here. That you’re not gone and I can still see you. I had a dream. You were standing at the edge of a precipice in a landscape of white. It was warm and cold. I tried calling for you, but my voice wouldn’t come out. I chased after you, but the distance between us only grew. Is it my fault, somehow? Were you not supposed to have met me? The Planet is not answering my prayers and even in my dreams, you refused to see me. I hate this. I don’t want this. You’re still out there, I know it, but my heart grows heavy with each passing day. I didn’t realize waiting was so hard. I wonder how Mom endured it, standing on that train platform all day everyday, hoping against hope that her husband would return. Give me strength, Zack. I want to see you. I want to wait for you. I want to believe you'll come back. I don’t want to lose you.

***

Zack…

Where are you?

Come home

***

Dear Zack…

I feel like I should apologize. We promised to sell the flowers under the sky together, but this morning, I braved myself to take the train to the upper plate. It was daunting, to say the least. But I know what you mean now. The sky really opens up when you don't have steel plates covering it. It's… really not scary at all. Though I'd be lying if I didn't keep my head down half of the time. But it's a step forward, right? Now I can look up at the sky even if I don't have you with me... It's really beautiful, Zack. I wish you could see it with me.

Aerith

~ END ~

#zerithweek #zerithweek2021 #aerith gainsborough #zack fair #zerith #final fantasy #final fantasy vii #ff7 #ffvii #ff7r #ff7 crisis core #fanfiction #ff fanfic #ff7 fanfic

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inessencedevided · 4 years

Text

The Untamed, episode 45 - watching notes

I'm at this stage of fandom rn where it's really hard to concentrate on anything else 😅

Every song I listen to gets dissected for how it relates to wangxian

I need to concentrate on my thesis but instead I'm pondering how the untamed raises questions about collectivism vs individualism and how my western perception of that might differ greatly from a native chinese person or even the author's intention

Can't I just write my thesis about THAT?

Alas, I digress ...

Back to our regular programming :D

Last time one Sophie watches the untamed wwx went all Sherlock on us and used his formidable skills of deduction to expose Backpfeifengesicht's plan of killing everyone and blaming it on wwx

I've heard from several people that the next few episodes are their favourites, so no high expectations at all :D

Nobody wipes the blood on their chins away. Might be about the aesthetic

I adore detective-duo-wangxian so much!! Especially because wwx does 99% of the talking but then lwj will chime in with a single word and it's 100% devastating :D

If anyone knows any well written case-fics for these two, please, I need recs! (For after the show)

Backpfeifengesicht makes good one point and that is that jgy already is at the top of the cultivation world. So what does he gain from all this?

Or is it simply that he's afraid of wwx because he's a rebel and might act against him? (Don't answer that. I wanna find out through the show ;))

Wwx just casually revealed that he's been to cloud recess and that he handles went to the restricted section forbidden chamber. What will you do about, Lan Qiren? Huh? 😂

Oooh! Backpfeifengesicht is the ghosted faced man! I thought it was Jiggy himself!!! 😱

That makes way more sense though!

Lan Sizhui! Jin Ling! Oh you brave boys! 😭

Someone hold me 😭

But why does he not take zidian now? He's done so before!

"You little fool!" Is "I love you" in Jiang-Cheng-speak :D

"We're done for! What can we do??" - wwx *strips*

Sorry

Bahahaha 😂😂😂

I just burst out laughing waaay to loudly for the fact that I've got people sleeping in the room next to mine

But look at Lan Qiren when he sees wwx strop to reveal anat is probably his nephew's undershirt 😂😂😂

He's probably questioning every decision that's let him to this point :D

This is completely inconsequential,but I couldn't keep quiet about it anymore because I every time he makes this motion, it always sends a shiver down my spine!!! Notice that wwx (or rather Xiao Zhan) is one of these people whose fingers bend in the opposite direction??? I know it's just a normal thing some people can do, but I can't watch it!! It makes my fingers hurt just looking at it 🙈🙈🙈

Is he turning himself into a demon lure flag?? 😱

Lan Jingyi 🥺🥺🥺

Also does wwx now just transfer his self-sacrificing tendencies to lwj?

Nothing is as hot as these two together in a fight scene

Jiang Cheng doesn't want to leave them behind. He does care! :') he just never unlearned how to unravel his love from his anger

Sizhui running up to greet his dads :')

Look at them! I'm soft guys 💔

He called him Yuan!! 😭😭😭

So this is it. Any doubts I ever had about Sizhui's identity are gone

Will he finally recognize him??

Why don't you say anything lwj? This one time, I beg you!!

Sect Leader Yao still at his gossip shit even 16 years later 🙄

Lam sizhyi is seasick! Why is this so cute! 😭

Oh Wen Ning!! He recognized A-Yuan? Right?

I want to hug Lan Sizhui for his openness and kindness towards everyone he meets, no matter their status or what other people say about them! (Wen Ning now or who he thought was Mo Xuanyu the supposed mad-man) and I wanna hug lan Wangji right after for raising him to be like this :')

Oh Wen Ning! 😭

That's how I'd look at Sizhui, too, if I met him - poor unadulterated wonder :')

And just think about what that means for Wen Ning! He's not the last of the Wens! All their fight wasn't for nothing. This child, their legacy, survived 😭😭😭

"Can I call you A-Yuan" "Of Course." God I'm gonna burst into tears 😭

I'm actually bursting into tears!!

Isn't this the dream of anyone who has ever lost someone? :')

"He's like a brother and father to me" :')

And he raised him from when he was 4 or 5? So ... A-Yuan was about 2 when the Wens died? Right? Then 5 would fit with lwj's 3 year isolation

Ob god, it's the butterfly-toy!!! 😭😭😭

Wen Nings smiling through his tears! I can't! 😭💔And he's got the one from the market!

Aww, wax isn't wearing the white undergarment anymore. Too bad

Oh poor Jin Ling ...

So much grieve that he could probably never process. There so many lost kids in this story, hurt by things they had no control over 😔

I mean, I get it. That's the person who killed his parents (without being in control, but he doesnt know that) and everyone is just talking to him as if it's normal and that didn't happen. But he can't forget,but he doesnt really understand either and he has no outlet. Of course he'd just ... crash 😥

And who would have thought I'd ever try at a flashback of Jin Zixuan's death :(

For once, it'd be nice if the adults actually acted like the parent figures they're supposed to be and explain things to their children 🤦‍♀️

I'm so thankful though, that no one even thinks of scolding him for crying. Jismg Cheng only asked who it was that made him cry (and looks like he'll kick their ass). Generally, thus show has a very healthy attitude towards tears. Most characters cry when they are faced with tragedy, regardless of gender. Men being allowed to have appropriate reactions to grieve (instead of a single men tear or just punching things) is really nice to see

Oh Yao dude whose courtesy name I can't remember, shut up!

Thanks Ouyang Zizhen! You get me

I live for these children standing up to their elders

Meanwhile Nie Huaisang is just on the sidelines, enjoying the show :D never change!

The Lotus Pier theme song alone is making me cry rn 😢

Why can't wen Ning come in?

Oh Sizhui!

He many times do you want to make me cry happy tears today?? :')

Little turnip-baby ❤

But why doesn't lwj say anything ??? 😭

Lan Wangji raised A-Yuan smong a bunch of rabbits??? 😭

Now he's a turnip baby with a taste for carrots, how cute is that? :')

Holy shit, wwx and lwj are really joined at the hip these days of lwj won't enter the hall if wwx isn't allowed to :D

Lwj 😑 "no misbehaviour"

Someone. Knows. Their. Husband.

Okay sorry, but as painful as these cuts must have been and yes, while you do see scars on this prostitute's face, they in no way warrant these horrified gasps as of they had all seen a monster 🙄

Xue yang. Fancy seeing you here in this not at all disturbing sub-plot 😬

Okay that's creepy. That's really creepy

Shouldn't Jin Guangyao have a bit more compassion for these women?

On the other hand, he was born to menacingly stand behind a curtain 🤷‍♀️

W. T. F. ????

Jin Guangshan??? o___O

That's the most skin we've ever seen on this show and it's in a scene like THIS? 😬

THIS IS HOW JIN GUANGSHAN DIED? 😱😱😱

How?

How can you die from sex?

And then jgy made them keep going?

UGH

These poor women :/

So there's someone who set her free on purpose, right?

Bicao has really interesting eyes!

Oh wait, took me some time to catch up. This is about Quin Su and why she killed herself, right?

WHAT??

They were siblings o_O

They just went full game of thrones on this ...

Hey Jin Guangshan, screw you for raping that woman

Wait, is that why jgy had him die like THAT?

I'm so confused about how that happened btw

But why would Jin Guangyao merry quin su anyway? Was this some kind of political marriage that he couldn't call off?

This episode answered some of my questions but raised about a dozen more 😅

@sweetlittlevampire @fandom-glazed @elenirlachlagos @allhailthedramallama @luckymoony @kyrrahbird @i-love-him-on-purpose

5 episodes to go. I'm both happy because I can't wait to brows the untamed tag without looking for spoilers and extremely sad 🥺

Right now I'm planning to watch one episode each day until friday and then watch the last two on Saturday, hopefully quite early, so I can spend the rest of the day crying my eyes out over it, without having to worry about such trivial things as being a functioning adult or a responsible student 😅

#the untamed #sophie watches the untamed #wei wuxian #wwx #lan wangji #lwj #wangxian #jiang cheng #jin ling #lan sizhui #wen ning #a-yuan #(I'm so happy i can put this tag here again 😊)#jin guangshan #jin guangyao #ouyang zizhen #the untamed liveblog

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tarithenurse · 3 years

Text

Nightingale - 27

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: Oh the feels and worries. Slow progress in exchange for a bit with Team 7. A/N: Getting closer to post all I’ve written which means I should probably get on paper all that’s rummaging around in my brain. As usual, ASK or REBLOG for tag! HUUUGE thanks to all who are reblogging already <3

Ch. 27

Spending most of his youth learning to corner people – and frankly, becoming one of the best at it – Kakashi can’t help the jittery nerves cascading down his back as he looks up to see the Third standing beside him. Hands on his back, the old man’s puffing on a dying pipe but his attention is on the memorial before them.

“Hokage-sama.”

“The pain never quite leaves.” The smile is bittersweet. “You don’t come here as much as you used to.”

I guess not. A fresh pang of guilt tries to undermine Kakashi’s heart. “I suppose...some days it’s easier to look to the future.”

“Hmmm...”

None of them say anything. Neither is it necessary to look to the other when the time comes and they silently say their “see-you-some-day”s and begin the walk back to the Academy.

Obediently following the elder man, Kakashi quickly realizes they are heading to Iruka’s classroom. Convenient, he puzzles, seeing as I was gonna go there. Class is just finished and the men step back to allow the rush of student to exit and regain their longed-for freedom before they can enter.

“Huh? Hokage-sama? Kakashi?”

...

From a distance, it would be easy to mistake the two figures for schoolmates. Pink and blue closely together, the giggles making the boys nearby glance in nervousness as they try to figure out what’s so funny, and Kakashi only goes easy on his students out of pity – kids their age still has a lot to learn about girls. And we never seem to figure it out completely.

“Although I commend you for remaining alert to your surroundings,” the sensei drawls, “losing focus completely won’t do you any good.”

The statement it underlined to near comical effect as they trigger the trap they had been trying to disarm and find themselves entangled in the thin threads crisscrossing between the trees all of a sudden.

“Damnit!”

“...moron,” the broody one grumbles, already looking for a way to get free despite his teammate’s flailing.

“WhaaAAAT?!” Naruto throws himself heart first into a shouting match with no clear opponent.

Better let them hang for a while and cool down. “Girls?”

“Hai, sensei,” the girls in question smile, one making the jōnin frown behind the mask.

“Care to explain what Naruto and Sasuke did wrong?”

He notices that Uguisu gives the younger girl a chance to answer first. “Naruto was being clumsy.”

It’s not wrong.

“And neither had noticed the second trap. It was set to spring either when triggered normally or when the first was disarmed,” the woman adds.

Three pairs of eyes scour the ground for any trace. The darkest close, accepting defeat, while the lighter pairs remain unsatisfied until Kakashi pokes at a particular root with a stick and a thinly woven net wraps the boys too tight to allow movement.

“Well, that’s it for today,” he smiles, “get a good night’s rest and be ready at eight o’clock.”

“Hey! Senseeei!” Naruto yells after the retreating adults, “what about getting us out!?”

But the white-haired man merely waves and professes his faith in the team to figure it out.

Out of sight, he leads Uguisu onto a path leading further away from town. He enjoys these quiet moments in the forest, whether they’re walking or lounging about. The best thing, and no one can change his mind on this, is when they’re lying somewhere and she’s carting her fingers through his stubborn hair. Or the rare instances where she feels safe enough to give into a kiss.

It won’t happen today (at least not right now) his instinct tells him. Something’s got the woman riled up, as if Naruto has poured itching powder into her clothes and she’s too proud to admit it; but she’s fidgeting with her hair, with the hem of her sleeve. Not that Naruto could manage to pull a prank like that on her. Besides, she’s barely able to contain a smile.

Leaping effortlessly up onto the thick branches of an oak, Kakashi smiles at the soundless pursuit which only stills when they both sit with their legs dangling in the air and the gnarly bark presses patterns through their trousers and into their thighs.

“Out with it.”

Uguisu arches an eyebrow, but the smile proves that she’s not surprised. “Umino Iruka says I’ll have my written exam in two weeks.” I know. “Aaaand until then, I don’t have to attend classes anymore.” Knew that too. “So! I was thinki-”

“No.”

Watching her deflate, all the exited happiness leaking from her features, Kakashi feels like it would nicer to sit down for a beating at the hands of Gai.

“You don’t know what I wanted to say.”

Gotta do this right. “You want to tag along on the mission with Team 7,” he calmly proves her wrong, “for the sake of the experience, probably, and to avoid getting bored...maybe you’d even say you’d feel safer with me around.”

The woman bows her head. Dejected. “I do feel safer around you.”

“I...thank you...but I won’t be enough if worst comes to worst. You know that.” Although the movements are minuscule, delicate, he can see how she’s curling up on herself. “In Konoha, you have the advantage of safety in numbers. Everyone is on high alert and have been since you let yourself be known.”

“But they don’t like me...”

Carefully, he reaches out to tip her face upwards. There are no tears. No anger. Just...empty despair that breaks his heart all over again because he knows it’s grown from distrust.

“Give them a chance,” he pleads, “you might just find friends here if you can grant them the same chance you’ve given me once.” Gingerly kissing the tip of her nose, he notices the flicker of hope in the dark eyes. “Iruka trusts you...and praises you. Seems Sakura adores you too. Kurenai and Asuma always wants to know if you’re doing okay...I think they might feel sort of responsible for your well being just like Anko does.”

“You’re just saying this to make me feel better.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t be true.”

“Hrm.”

Releasing the loose hold Kakashi has on the woman he loves, he frees his face completely. “Uguisu, I want to make you happy. Want you to be safe. Always. You’re made to be free, so it must be hard to be confined this way until the tests are done and your skill is recognized.”

“But we both know I’ll never be send on a mission,” she whispers wryly without eye contact.

Yeah. “Not one on behalf of outsiders, at least.”

“And in your opinion: nothing that can put me at risk of Orochimaru discovering me.”

“I can’t hold you back forever,” he sighs, still trying to get her to look at him, “this will probably be the last time I’m away and can rest knowing you’re safe.”

All the thoughts and emotions inside Kakashi are threatening to spill over, to tumble out of his mouth without a care for the swirling maelstrom they might evoke, and as tempting as it is to let the damn break he knows a wrong move or word could further the divide he’s been breaching for months.

Uguisu’s hand is gentle and calm as it turns his to cup her cheek. When she leans into the palm, the jōnin allows the worries to evaporate in favour of hoping that he’ll have the chance to admit his feelings some other time. She knows anyways. All he has to do right now is to return the little smile brightening the dark eyes.

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

Note

You’re a disgusting, abuse-survivor-shaming cunt. I hope you choke, I truly do.

So I get way more of these kinds of messages than I could possibly ever count. Have been for years. I don’t generally reply to them the way I mock some other hate messages I can at least have fun with, because like, what’s there to say about this kinda thing, y’know?

I don’t know how to get people to understand that there is NOTHING hypothetical about my anger about the things in fandom I get angry about. My rants about dark fic are PERSONAL, they have NOTHING to do with some arbitrary moral superiority stance. I don’t make assumptions as to others’ survivor status or motivations for writing various things because I don’t HAVE to, my anger and frustration are with the OUTPUT, not the inciting reasons.

My hostility towards fandom comes directly from the hostility fandom shows me every time people try to convince me that I have no reason to have the reactions I do to the way they interact with the extremely combustible topics that define my own trauma and that of others. And the fact that fandom at large has decided that the ONLY acceptable reactions from survivors upon seeing others engaging with these sensitive topics in any way they choose, is either to be silent, or to take part in it.

I don’t have to know which writers of which fics are or aren’t actually survivors attempting coping mechanisms of their own to be fucking furious at the way fandom has literally commodified these traumas, made them exploitable by making the catchphrase “some people write dark fic to cope” all-inclusive, utilized by anyone. With no shame or self-scrutiny as to the fact that YOU at least know if you are or aren’t a survivor, and if you aren’t one, you have ZERO business offering this particular line up as a defense to any survivor taking issue with the ways you embrace particular topics in particular ways.

The only things I have any interest in shaming people for is their choices, the fucking CHOICE to turn on any survivor who dares say “I have issues with this take” and this goes for abuse as much as it does rape. I’ve lost count of the number of authors over the years who HAVE spoken of being rape survivors specifically but then turn around and treat childhood physical abuse as their personal playground, with none of the care they put into crafting rape storylines on display when they casually have male abuse survivors punching each other in every other argument and just citing ‘boys will be boys.’ I can have sympathy for their status and experiences as rape survivors while still being upset at how they simultaneously perpetuate so many of the untruths that make it so hard for abuse survivors to affirm that they have actually been abused rather than call it something that its not, something that they’ve seen writers call it because the writers simply don’t want to inspect the fact that they’ve casually and without awareness written their characters abusing another.

It’s not a zero sum game.

I get angry not because I feel powerless in my own life (I don’t, actually, thanks, I’ve taken actionable steps every single day to fix what’s wrong in my own life and lol that’s power baby), and not because I’m fixated on my own trauma and unwilling to move past it (lol yeah I have no money to spend on anything BUT therapy because I’m committing to the highly specialized and expensive therapy I only arrived at after years of trial and error with other forms because I just don’t want to move past any of this, okay sure).

Nah, I get angry because of the galaxy brain intellects who smarmingly just decide on this view of me for themselves, condescension dripping from every ‘well-meaning’ expression of contempt sympathy, with zero examination of the fact that like.....idk guys, its a little hard to move past my trauma when everyone ELSE seems more fixated on it than I do! LOL, so we’re just gonna skip merrily on by the fact that the only reason its an ISSUE for me in fandom is because its EVERYWHERE in fandom, huh? ‘Mind the tags’ people parrot mindlessly, as though its not like tags HAVE to be created with self-awareness for what people are supposed to mind, or like I haven’t had people literally try to trigger me with tags aimed specifically at getting under my skin as ‘payback’ for something I wrote (out of moral superiority, naturally, not a visceral display of emotion, never that). As though the tags have anything to do with the fact that even outside of Ao3, there are incest-themed shipping weeks every single month of the year, that every major discord server and fic exchange and other fandom wide event demands participants be ‘ship-friendly’ which might as well be code for ‘not friendly to anyone who doesn’t prioritize ships over survivors,’ like fandom hasn’t created a culture in which people are more inclined to be defensive over how people make writers FEEL about stuff they’ve written than they are to be defensive over how certain writing makes various survivors feel.

I’ll never get over how a fandom that universally expressed disdain for Devin Grayson’s disrespectful handling of the sensitive topic of rape has obliviously embraced every form of euphemism under the sun for their own content, and just flat out REFUSES to concede that there is ANY room for criticism in ANY handling of even the most sensitive of topics. Because there’s no sensitivity allowed when it comes to any topic in fandom....unless its the writer’s sensitivity, that must be respected at all costs.

Does that not really strike you as....odd? Aren’t there lines out there about how no society or culture or environment that truly embraces free speech can simultaneously embrace freedom from criticism? And yet time and time again, its anyone who dares criticize - in ANY fashion - the HOW of what someone wrote, not even the WHY, they’re the ones termed authoritarian, censor, the one attempting to SHUT DOWN conversation rather than expand upon it. Tell me, what conversation was THIS anon and similar ilk attempting to invite? Every criticism I write of fandom invites people to engage with it. I fucking BEG people to engage with it. You’re the ones who choose not to. At least not in good faith. Because its only when I refuse to let you move the goalposts from anything other than this being about me reacting to what you wrote, no aim at doing anything other than being a reaction to an action, not an attempt to tell you what to do, just an attempt to get you to tell me WHY, if it really is as defensible as you loftily claim it is - then why is it you just can’t tell me, straight to my face, that it doesn’t matter what negative reaction your writing evokes, you don’t actually have to care? Cuz you don’t, of course. But if you’re that content with your own motivations, your own impact, why so uncomfortable just saying that?

The funny thing is, I truly don’t make any assumptions as to the why of anyone writing dark fic. I have a lot to say about the fact that we all know damn well that at least some of the people offering up the ‘some survivors use dark fic to cope’ aren’t speaking of themselves when they do so, but I have ZERO interest in imagining who that is and why. I’ve spoken of the fact that its willful naivete to assume that even if your own motivations for writing certain content are innocent in your own mind, you can’t assume the same of EVERYONE. That its nothing but willfulness to pretend that actual predators don’t peruse the same content. That the very same factors that make Dick Grayson so appealing to survivors, for example, as a strong heroic character who neverthless has been victimized and violated more than once - the flip side of this coin is this of course makes him EQUALLY appealing to people on the other end of things....a strong heroic character who nevertheless can be victimized and violated more than once.

And yet I honestly, truly have no interest in figuring out who might be whom, when it comes to writers, and I don’t assume everyone who writes or reads certain content in certain ways is in the latter camp. IT DOES ME NO GOOD, to go through life assuming that many people are all potential rapists or inclined to side with my own rapists’ or abusers’ side of things. I CHOOSE to give people the benefit of the doubt there, I assume perhaps they ARE survivors trying in good faith to cope with their own trauma and defensive about hearing that butts up against with other survivors trying to move on in other ways, or that they’re simply people who grew up in fandom being told there is nothing they can write that can be termed wrong, and have trouble with such a deeply held conviction being contested. Or perhaps only got into shipping incest because the ‘fandom elders’ of various fandoms like SPN deliberately and with full intent once upon a time pitched incest as being the same kind of taboo relationship that the same kind of people who forced gay men into secretive relationships were against....that incest ships and closeted gay ships were basically the same, and so as the latter became less of a thing as media showed more open gay relationships, incest ships became more of a thing among fans who were really compelled by the secretive/’society’s against them’ aspect of forbidden love.

I don’t assume any of that on a ONE TO ONE basis with any single writer or reader because I don’t KNOW their personal story and I’m not TRYING to. It makes no difference when I’m not talking about or arguing against the WHY of someone doing a thing, but the HOW. The end result, and the interactions it creates in the environment in which their output is published, shared, celebrated.

All at the expense of any survivor who doesn’t enjoy seeing things they’ve struggled with getting taken seriously about, maybe all their lives....not taken seriously, and offered up as just a themed week on the latest fantasy porn prompt generator. The problem with incest shippers isn’t even just ‘you ship incest, why do you do that,’ its that you can’t seem to manage to do it without assuming anyone who objects is only doing so out of a place of moral superiority. You try and make it a hypothetical argument “well what about when you do this” as opposed to something rooted in the here and now of the personal. We’re not talking about what ifs, we’re talking about what is. Deal with that before you try raising something else, instead of always raising something else so you never have to deal with that.

The problem is people condescendingly assuming we have ZERO basis for any objection, or any negative reaction at all. Its our own fault, you see, for being too stupid to get that fiction doesn’t affect reality (even though we’ve debunked that time and time again). Its our own fault, you see, for not getting that its not really incest BECAUSE (a claim that is never actually as universal as it tries to pretend to be, and thus is never more than a distraction for the specific argument that prompted it). Its our own fault, you see, for not getting that this isn’t really a big deal, there are bigger problems, and its awfully sad if we’re so fragile and delicate we can’t handle someone enjoying something that has nothing to do with us (even though its never your call whether or not it has anything to do with us, just as its never our call what your specific motivations for writing specific content might be).

The problem is the same thing I’ve been dealing with all my life, and all the more exhausting for it being front and center in fandoms that claim to be escapism and catharsis for survivors....as long as those survivors perform in the manner fandom is comfortable with....aka the manner fandom has exploited and commodified in order to make certain manners of enjoying certain topics possible and defensible for ALL fans, regardless of their own connection to such topics, or motivations surrounding them.

Denial, avoidance, and abdication of responsibility. There’s no problem if YOU don’t see a problem, after all. There can’t be a problem if you just refuse to acknowledge a problem. A problem has nothing to do with you if you simply have nothing to do with it.

And all the while, you continue engaging in the same behaviors that provoke the same reactions that you refuse to ever actually engage with or address, relying on gaslighting to try and sell people and everyone around them that THEY’RE the real problem....its us that have no respect for freedom of speech, creativity or the creative process, other peoples’ traumas, the difference between fantasy and reality, etc etc ad nauseam.

We see people waving away instances of physical abuse with textbook abuse apologism, and we’re told we don’t know what we’re talking about. We see people offering up wording and phrasing in the comment sections of fics that are literally textbook grooming techniques we recognize from our own experiences and we’re told we’re imagining things. We see characters raping others without it being described as rape and we’re told we didn’t mind the tags, even though oddly enough, none of the tags actually said ‘rape’ but rather other euphemisms and if they aren’t in place to tell readers not to expect actual rape in the actual fic, then, what purpose is it they actually serve, again?

But sure.

Talk to me some more about survivor-shaming.

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gummi-stories · 4 years

Text

Day Seventeen: Alt Prompt, Presumed Dead

Soldiers pay the ultimate price every day, unfortunately for Hanzo... McCree is one of those soldiers

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Mchanzo

Genji thought it would be a cold day in hell before he ever heard his brother cry

Apparently, he was wrong

Working for an organization such as Overwatch was a dangerous job

The agents put their lives on the line every day to restore and keep the peace

Some of them even had to pay the ultimate price in the name of peace

Jesse McCree had paid that price

Genji had been on the mission where his best friend had perished

There had been an explosion, bringing down a whole building with many people and Overwatch agents inside

Unfortunately, there had been many casualties due to the sheer force of the explosion

And what was even worse for McCree was he was at the heart of the explosion

There was no body

No remains

Nothing

Nothing to bring home to Hanzo to bring him or anyone else any closure

When Genji had stepped off the orca with the rest of the team, everyone in different states due to losing a teammate and a family member. Hanzo had been there waiting

Watching his face fall when the realization hit him had been soul crushing

Hanzo had quickly excused himself before anyone had the chance to talk to him

That had been a few hours ago. Genji had been to see Angela for both medical and emotional support and decided that he needed to check up on his brother who was no doubt heartbroken.

Genji could hear Hanzo from outside his room, the room he hadn't touched in years since he normally shared McCree's.

His brother was sobbing his heart out, gut-wrenching cries came from him which spiked up some emotion within Genji.

But Genji needed to be strong for his brother

He could grieve later

Hanzo had just lost his lover

His better half

He needed to be there for him

Steeling himself, Genji put in the code to Hanzo's room and the door slid open revealing Hanzo on the other side

"Oh brother..." Hanzo was curled up at the foot of the bed, one of McCree's many serapes held tightly to his face as he cried.

Genji didn't speak, he walked over to Hanzo and sat right beside him. Surprisingly, Hanzo fell right into his brother offered comfort. Genji placed his arm over Hanzo and rested his cheek on top of the elder's head.

The two sat together in the dark for a while, Hanzo sobbed whilst Genji offered silent comfort.

Nothing he could do would make it better

McCree was gone

Hanzo had lost the love of his life

All Genji could do was be there for him

Genji looked down at his brother when Hanzo's face slightly appeared from behind the serape, his eyes rimmed red and full of tears

"Why him... why did it have to be him" Hanzo's broken voice questioned. He sounded so small, so hopeless and lost

Genji never wanted to see his brother like this

The ninja hesitated slightly before sighing, turning to his brother

"I don't know Hanzo... I'm sorry"

The only response he got was more cries

Hanzo's sorrow continuing to pour out

Genji would make sure Hanzo got through this, no matter how hard it was

For McCree's sake

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Now isn't that just sweet, your poor little boyfriend sobbing his heart out. How touching"

A low chuckle escaped the figure sitting on the swivel chair, watching the Overwatch feed in front of her as if it was an episode of a reality tv show.

"You know, I honestly didn't think anything could bring Hanzo Shimada to tears... guess I was wrong huh?"

Jesse let out a low huff behind the leather stuck in between his teeth, another slight tug at the ropes binding his hands to the back of the chair.

The figure looked over her shoulder, purple hair cascading with the movement as she looked at him.

"Oh don't be so sad, Jesse McCree. It's not like you'll remember him in a few weeks" Jesse's eyes widened, what one earth was she talking about?

Another laugh came from her as the chair spun around, Sombra sitting smugly whilst she looked at him.

"I can't tell you much of course, against company policies and stuff. But I promise you, we're going to take good care of you" She smiled, a hint of something sinister lurking in her eyes as she leaned closer to him

"Transport won't be here for a little while, so I suggest getting comfortable and enjoying the show" A manicured finger tapped at his nose, Jesse screwing up his face and leaning away as much as he could in response, only amusing Sombra more.

"I'm sure Gabe will be very happy to see you"

#whumptober2020 #alt.11 #presumed dead #altprompt #mchanzo #fic #tw: death #tw: kidnapping

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letspurpletogether · 5 years

Text

Out of the Void || BTS

↳ Summary: The one where the boys stumble upon that one fic and they all end up reading. (This is a crack fic inspired by @btssavedmylifeblr’s Void, because my own words are not enough to describe how an amazing story Void it is, and what a outstanding writer Bee is).

⇢ Warnings: BEWARE OF SPOILERS!! This things should be full of them so I suggest you to read all of Void before reading this just in case. Also, for those entitled rude anons: stop demanding updates from the fan fiction writers like they owe you shit, cause they don’t! And stop coming at them to complain about their publishing schedule. This is done for fun and for free, if you can’t be patient and respect their creative process then fuck off!

A/N: Also, I had so much fun writing this. I wanted to keep adding and adding stuff. However, since english is not my mother language i had some trouble describing the scenes the way I pictured them in my head. Therefore, I decided to leave it like this for now.

(TT-TT) Im sorry, Bee! I did try my best, I know it doesn’t do Void justice. But I still wanted to write it for you because Void is such an amazing story!

That’s it! Please,enjoy!

→ 01

[...]

He shouldn’t be doing this.

Hoseok checked over his shoulder again before turning back to the phone in his hands. It wasn’t like if someone were to come into his studio right now and catch him watching porn.

Hell, this was so much worse.

Especially considering how he was supposed to be working on the rap arrangement for the new song, and not checking out a piece of fan-fiction... If Namjoon were to catch him he was going to give him hell for days.

He had strictly advised the six of them against it several times, but to be honest Hoseok was to eager to find out what happened next to actually acknowledge the suggestion. Besides, he was he eldest of the two and it wasn’t like he had to listen to his band member. Joon was only the leader when the cameras were out. Inside their dorms he couldn’t even remember to wash the dishes when he was supposed to or take the clothes out of the dryer so they wouldn’t end up a crumble mess the next morning.

Also, it was all Jimin’s fault.

His dongsaeng had sent him the link without any explanation last week. It was a silly thing they did to each other trying to make the other cringe with whatever weird-ass story they could find, mostly on Twitter. It was all for the laughs but they had stopped doing it when Hoseok had accidentally send Seokjin a rather explicit piece that involved Jimin and Yoongi in a threesome with some kind of catgirl trying to get her pregnant. It was meant for the young boy, of course and that slip of hand had resulted in a hysteric Seokjin exposing them right in front of the others.

Hoseok has been so embarrassed after that he couldn’t even look at Yoongi in the face for a whole ass week. Even though his hyung had said it was fine. It didn’t help that Taehyung and Jungkook wouldn’t let the topic die either. Those rascals, he made sure to make them wore their asses off in the following dance practices.

But anyways, he and Jimin had agreed to stop.

So it was a surprise to receive a new link from him after a couple months. He’d ignored it at first, being too busy with practice and rehearsals to bother with checking it up. But yesterday while waiting for his appointment with the cupping therapist, he’d absentmindedly opened it and was actually surprised with what he’d found. Written in English, it was a space story... and they were astronauts!

At that moment he been too oblivious to care and read the warnings or summary on top of the post. For a moment of innocent wonder he actually got caught up in the first scene. He was a scientist in space, it couldn’t get any cooler than that! But of course, he had soon realized what type of story it was.

The problem was that it didn’t start right off with the porn part like most stories he’s found while browsing the darkest depths of the ARMY’s fandom. He’d read some weird shit himself, demons, half-animal people, male pregnancyㅡHell! even tentacles once. The kind of things his fans could come up with was exhilarating, and it blew his mind that the weirdest and kinkiest were for some reason the best well-written of allㅡ.

But this story was different.

It had a storyline, an actual estructure, inciting incident, clear stakes, the whole pack. Years listening to his father reviewing novels and short-stories had resulted in him developing an appetite for well-written stories. And even though the main character was that Y/N type their fans where so keen about, she wasn’t plain at all. She struggled, and that was nice to read. Besides, all that astronaut stuff sounded so legit that he almost consider the possibility of the author being an astronaut herself. He’d always been a fan of fantasy and sci-fi since he was child and his father brought him the entire collection of Jules Verne’s novels for his eleventh birthday. Stories about voyages to far and unknown places were his guilty pleasure, so of course he got hooked up with this piece faster than he’d ever with any other he’d read so far.

But he couldn’t finished the chapter that time because the masseur was already calling his name. The scrolling bar told him he wasn’t even half way through it, so he’d copied the link for later and went to the therapist office. So now there he was resuming his reading with renewed eagerness.

The main character had just arrived at a green house inside the ship. And there was Yoongi.

Hoseok huffed and raised an eyebrow when he realized this scene focused all on his elder. Wasn’t he supposed to be the main character here? Not that he complained, though. Yoongi’s fingers where indeed nice after all and wouldn’t blame the girl for obsess over them. But in most stories he’d read there was always a lead, and he assumed by the first scene it was going to be himself. Maybe this was a threesome?

He quickly scrolled back up to the story information, searching for the pairing section where he knew his questions would be answered. /OT7 x reader/

He flinched.

“All of us? What...?”. Did that mean everyone was a love interest? Or that the main character was supposed to screw all of them at once? How was that supposed to work if there was just one woman in the whole crew?

Oh wait...

The realization hit him. Of course, that was the whole plot. Seven guys and one girl, and they had to fight for her love? It was something like that for sure, wasn’t it? She would pick one of them and then they’d have sex. He kept reading—

«Your deepest darkest fantasies- the ones you always turned to on your most stressed and anxious nights - were the ones involving the entire crew. The idea of them finding out what a slut you were for them and passing you between them filled you with an embarrassing level of arousal. You would imagine them taking turns filling you until all your thoughts of loneliness and emptiness had been fucked out of you. And you would sleep like a baby.»

—or not...

He scratched his chin, a little confused now. Was this actually going to be gangbang? Or more importantly, was he actually going to read this till the end? He did like threesomes, not that he’d been in one... Yet. Their schedules hardly ever allowed them to properly date someone, and hooking up with a random stranger was way too risky with the level of fame they’d reached at this point. But the idea of threesomes was very appealing, although he’d never actually consider having a gangbang with all his members. However... he wasn’t going to cross off reading about one just yet.

Just as he was about to resume his reading, the door flew open and Jimin‘s face appeared. “Hyung!”

Hoseok jumped in his seat, his phone fell on his lap.

“Shit...!”, he took a deep breath and glared at his band member. “You almost gave me a heart attack, Jimin!”

A sly grin appeared on the youngest face.

“Why? What were you doing?”

Hoseok cleared his throat. Had he been discovered?

“Nothing”, he lied so poorly he wanted to smack himself on the face.

“You were totally reading it, weren’t you?”, Jimin chuckled. “Did you get to the video part already?”

“No, what video part?”

Jimin raised both palms.

“Sorry, not going to give you any spoilers”

Hoseok rolled his eyes. “Anyway... Why did you send it?” He asked, retrieving his phone and unlocking the screen again. “I thought we agreed on not doing that anymore”

“Yeah, but Taehyung send it to me”

“What?” Hoseok frowned, and turned around in his chair to face the boy. That was a surprise. “Why would he...?” He shook his head, sometimes Taehyung needn’t a reason to do the most random things.

Jimin simply shrugged.

“He also sent it to Jungkook and Namjoon-hyung”, Jimin ran his hand through his hair and giggled. “I think everyone is reading it now”

“Wait- What?!” Hoseok chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “Are you for real?”

“Haven’t you checked the group chat?”

“No, I was...” Hoseok pressed his tongue against his cheek. “-reading”.

“Huh”Jimin wiggled his eyebrows. “Is cool isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s ... interesting”, he conceded. Jimin let himself in and plopped down on the spare chair he kept in his studio in case he needed to work with the senior producers.

“Who do you think she’ll choose?”

“For what?”

“Come on, hyung.” Jimin snickered, “You know what I mean”

“Are you sure she is supposed to choose one of us?”

“What-? Obviously...”, Jimin shifted on the sofa, his face stared confused at Hoseok for a moment. But then he gasped, suddenly realizing what he mean. “Do you mean-? All of us?!”

“Why not?” Hoseok shrugged. “It’s just a story, anyways. You know some of our fans like kinky stuff and there’s nothing wrong with that”

“I mean! I know that! Its not-”. Jimin’s face turned a bright shade of red. “W-we shouldn’t be reading about that. What if they get... ideas!” He brought a hand to his forehead and looked back at him with a worried expression. Hoseok spluttered in a laugh, but it soon dwindled when he realized Jimin was actually serious about his concern.

“Jimin...”

“Goddamnit...!” Hoseok observed as his younger member stood up and facepalmed himself “I’m an idiot! I bet that was Taehyung’s plan all along”

“Taehyung’s plan was to have us... read fan-fiction?”

“About a gangbang!”

Hoseok rolled his eyes.

“It’s just fan fiction, Jimin. Not a proposition”, he said, but Jimin wasn’t paying attention to him anymore.

“The others can’t read that. I have to stop them”, and he was about to storm out the door, but Hoseok had to stop him.

“Hey, hey!”, he grabbed him by the elbow. “Now you’re just exaggerating”

“No, I’m not”, Hoseok couldn’t comprehend why Jimin was so scandalized. “We can’t have a gangbang, hyung!”

“No, no, no!”, he “First of all, no one is having a gangbang. Second of all, why does it bother you so much?”

“It doesn’t!”

“Really?”

“I just don’t want to be... I don’t want to share a partner with the six of you”

“Why, you’re worried she might like it too much and dump you?” Hoseok teased. However, upon seeing Jimin getting all self-conscious, the smile was erased from his face.

“Jimin, come on. You don’t really think that would happen”

“I don’t know, you are all good looking and mature, and more talented that-“

“Stop it. You are not less than us, stop beating yourself so much specially over a fictional situation. Do you forget who has the third largest fan base among us?”

“It because ARMY likes when I act all cute and pretty, and want to baby me like a child. I’m the cutie, the tiny one...”, his voiced turned into an almost whisper at the end. “I’m never the big... manly man...”

“Jimin...”

“What?”

“This isn’t about the story, is it?”

“No... yes- well, not this one...”, he paused, looking at his feet, bashfully. “It’s just the other stories...”

“What other stories?”, Hoseok asked, but Jimin just shrugged. “I don’t get it...”

“Ugh- hyung it’s nothing really”, he was quick to reply, standing up again. “You are right, I’m so over-reacting... it’s just a story”

“Okay...”, Hoseok leaned back in his chair and looked again at Jimin who was standing next to the door. Hands behind his back, like a child waiting to be scolded. “You sure that’s all?”

“Yep”, that extra ‘p’ sound at the end was enough evidence that he was lying. But he was also aware of Jimin’s uneasiness so it was probably better to let him off the hook for now.

“Well, then...”, Hoseok rubbed his neck. “I really should get back to work then”

Jimin gave him a short smile and left without saying another word. Hoseok turned around in his chair to face his computer and actually get some work before the day was over.

But maybe...ㅡHe glanced at his phone next to the mouseㅡ, just maybe... one more chapter wouldn’t hurt either.

[...]

It was past three am when he arrived back at the dorm. He usually wasn’t the one to stay overnight at the studio like Joonie and Yoongi-hyung. But time flew from his grasp like an oiled rope after he finished the first chapter and he had to stay late to finish his assignments. He didn’t want Pdogg-hyung to yell at him in their next briefing. However, the pull of the story was too strong for him to resist.

He had gone to sleep right away, and with the first light the next day he was already reaching for his cellphone and logging into the Tumblr account he had created just for this. He needed to know what happened next, story-Jimin had to be out of his mind to give the main character a video of him masturbating. It was a risky move, he wouldn’t think Jimin was capable of it in real life... Maybe Seokjin-hyung was shameless enough to pull that one out, and Taehyung...

“Yeah, probably Taehyung...”, he mused to himself as he propped himself down on his elbows.

“Probably Taehyung what?”, Jimin’s sleepy voice asked from his side of the room.

“Oh! Jiminie, did I wake you?”, Jimin shook his head and asked again what he meant by ‘probably Taehyung’. Hoseok sat on his bed and stretched his arms. “Nothing, it’s just this story...”

“Why do you keep reading it, hyung?”, Jimin groaned and covered his face with both palms in exhaustion. Hoseok simply chuckled, Jimin’s concerns where silly. Plus, he wasn’t going to deny himself the pleasure of a good story just because his roommate thought his best friend was trying to get them to have an orgy.

“We are not having a gangbang, just relax”

Jimin huffed but didn’t argue further.

A sudden nasal shriek shattered the morning’s quietness and reached their ears through the door. Hoseok almost jumped off his bed to Jimin’s, what on earth was that? It sounded like some kind of hysteric bird .

“First you send me that porn thing and then you wanna talk about gangbangs?! Gangbangs!!”

Okay, that hysteric bird sounded like Seokjin now. And by the volume of it, it was coming from the kitchen.

“It’s not like that, hyung! You don’t even listen!” And that was definitely Joon’s.

Hoseok exchanged confused glances with Jimin that soon turned into curious ones. As if on cue, both of them got up their beds and ran into the kitchen to check on their band members.

Namjoon was leaning on the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in one hand, the other scratching his forehead. Meanwhile Seokjin was beating some eggs in a plastic bowl, ranting about how much porn was acceptable in a household.

“It’s not porn! It’s basically literature!” Namjoon sounded as much fed up as he looked embarrassed. Seokjin let out a sarcastic chuckle.

“It’s porn! And you are a pervert!”

Namjoon rolled his eyes.

“If you could just read it-!”

“I have enough with the viruses that keep popping on the computer because of you shady search historial!” It was hilarious just listening to them arguing back and forth like and old married couple. But Hoseok was more curious about whether they were talking about what he though they were.

“Is this about the space story?”, he chimed in, resting his elbows on the marble island across Seokjin’s cooking station. Jimin climbed on a stool next to him.

“You too, now?”, Seokjin huffed, giving him and Jimin disgusted look. “Not that I’m surprised, considering your fascination with breeding cats”

“It was a cat-girl! And that was a mistake!” Hoseok’s ears suddenly burned. “But whatever...”

“Wait- So did you read it, or not?”, this time Namjoon was the one to speak.

“I am reading it, I’m on chapter two”, he replied and Jimin nodded along.

“Did you get to the video part right?”, Joon asked and before Hoseok had a chance to speak, Seokjin’s loud huff cut him off.

“Can I cook in peace without having to hear about how much you want a gangbang, pleaaaaase?”

“Com’on, hyung! I never said I wanted a gangbang!” Namjoon shot him a glare before turning back to Hoseok. His hands came to fondle with the fruit bowl in front of him. “What I was trying to explain to this hyung is that I do think it’s an interesting guessing exercise for figuring out the extends of human behaviour in such adverse conditions”

“But you said you wanted to do it!”

“No! I said to explore it as in talk about it! WITH WORDS!”, Namjoon glared at their hyung, as a faint blush covered his cheeks. It was clear that “If you could’ve just listened for a moment instead of acting like a scandalized prude!”

“Yeah, hyung. It’s just a story, you are over reacting”, said Jimin, taking Hoseok by surprise considering all he had to say about it last night.

“Well, forgive me for not wanting a gangbang!”

“No one’s having a gangbang, for God’s sake!”

“I wouldn’t mind”, a fifth voice joined the conversation out of the blue and all the heads turned in the direction of the hallway.

Yoongi-hyung was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and messy bed hair. A slight frown hardening his features. He’d most likely woken up because all of the noise.

Seokjin let out a sarcastic chuckle.

“You too, Yoongi?”

“How long have you been standing there?”, Jimin asked. Yoongi shrugged off a yawn and walked over to grab an apple from the bowl Namjoon was holding.

“It’s hard to keep sleeping with this hyung nagging so loud this early in the morning”, he pointed to his eldest and bit on the fruit.

“You know what?!”, Seokjin scoffed, and put aside all his cooking implements. “Y’all can make your own breakfast! Seriously...”

And walked away.

“So noisy...”, Yoongi mumbled as he munched on his apple.

“You read it too, hyung?”, Namjoon asked. Yoongi turned to him, leaning on his elbows. Hoseok’s eyes betrayed him as they followed Yoongi’s movements and the way he arched his back, lifting his ass in the air so subtly.

“Since Tae shared it in the group chat I figured I should give it a try”, he shrugged seemingly desinterestedm, but Hoseok knew him better than that. Yoongi liked to pretende he didn’t care about stuff other that making music, but it was clear to him by the way he was behaving, that the older rapper had enjoyed the story a little bit too much. “It was good”.

“You’re only saying that because you are not the main character”, said Jimin.

“At least I’m not the character that gave the girl a video of me jerking off”

“First of all, she asked! and second, you messed up big time keeping that memory card, hyung!”

Yoongi sneered at the younger boy.

“I got her off, you didn’t”

“Wait, what are you-?”

Jimin’s face turned a bright red, his nosetrils flared. Namjoon just chocked a laugh, almost knocking off the fruit bowl. For a moment, Hoseok only stared in confussion at them. He couldn’t recall something like that happening in the story yet and he realized they were probably far ahead of him.

“Hey! Don’t give me any spoilers! I haven’t reached that part yet”.

But Yoongi and Jimin just ignored him, continuing their teasing banter.

“I don’t think she’ll forgive you. EVER!”

“She was thinking of me while fucking you”

“At least I got to- to... be with her!”

“You can’t even say fuck without blushing. Space-Jimin is lightyears ahead of you”, a smug grin appeared in Yoongi’s face, clearly pleased with his joke and Jimin’s fuming face.

“That’s a bit rich coming from you, hyung”, Namjoon said with a smirk. “I mean, last time I checked you couldn’t even look at Halsey in her training clothes without turning red as a beetroot”

“That’s-!”, Yoongi coughed, a bite of the apple going the wrong way. Suddenly matching Jimin with his red cheeks. “That’s different!”

“Neither one of you would ever dare to act like the way the author portraits you. Just admit it”, Namjoon snickered. “You don’t have what it takes”.

“Oh, and you do?”

“I’m just saying if the seven of us where trapped in a spaceship and there’s just one woman for miles and miles...”, He crossed his arms, chin raised proudly. “I’m guessing you’d be too shy to get her attention”.

“It’s not a competition, anyway. It’s a story and it has already been written”, argued Yoongi. “And I was her first choice”.

“Technically it was Hobi”, Jimin pointed out. “She was so ready to throw herself over him in that lab scene”.

“Well Hobi doesn’t count here because he did nothing”

“Excuse me?”, Hoseok scoffed. “Clearly I’m the best character, unlike others I’m actually being professional”.

“Yeah, right. Professional until Yoongi-hyung tells you he screwed the main character”, Taehyung popped up from behind him making Hoseok shriek in surprise, followed closely by a sleepy-faced Jungkook.

“You little-! You almost killed me!”, Taehyung only laughed, joining the his chuckling hyungs.

“And he didn’t screw anything- anyone!”, said Jimin.

“Well, his fingers did”.

“Stop talking!”, Hoseok shoved Taehyung aside and shook his head. “You’ve already spoiled the story for me enough as it is! At least let me finish the chapters before we talk about this”.

“Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t talk about it before breakfast”, Namjoon scratched his chin. “Gguk, go tell Jin-hyung he can come back now”.

“Why, was he here?” asked Jungkook.

“He left because he didn’t what to have a gangbang”, Yoongi answered, almost offended, like he was telling Jungkook his hyung had turned down some fishing trip.

Jungkook’s eyes where suddendly wide open.

“What-?!”

“It’s the story, nevermind!”, Jimin waved a hand in the air in dismissal.

“Wait, so we can’t have a gangbang?”

“Are you serious right now, hyung?”, Jimin gave Yoongi the side eye. His hyung response was simply shrugging.

“I like to keep my options open”.

“Yeah, maybe one thing you shouldn’t keep open is your mouth”.

The group erupted in laughter at Jimin’s witty comeback. Yoongi raised the hand that held half an apple and pretended to throw it at Jimin’s head, only to join the laughter when the dancer fell from his chair by his motion.

Hoseok chuckled and shook his head.

What a way to start the day.

. . . .

#void #btssavedmylifeblr #space au #bts reaction #bts scenarios #jung hoseok #pov #bangtan smut #crack fic #bts crack #fic inside fic #fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts reacts to fanfiction #yoongi #bts smut

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oh-mother-of-darkness · 4 years

Text

asks (26)

@spickerzocker said:

hey there! just a heads up that i tried to click on the "why i don't ship" explanation link in your faq and it says that there is no post with that url/it's generally broken. also your "a conversation about recovery" thing is beautiful and hurts in the best way and i love it. have a nice day!

Yes, I intentionally took that link down awhile ago, and last night I went and updated some of the tabs on my blog. Here are my basic thoughts:

I wrote that link years and years ago, while I was first navigating the internet and while I was still figuring out important things about my own identity and opinions. I ran my blog differently back then, but by the end of the first few months, I knew I was uncomfortable with shipping.

As people began to interact with me and my work, I told them over and over again no, I don’t want to talk about that, and I don’t want to write about it, and it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t think that was a common position to take at the time, so it wasn’t what people expected from me.

During those years, I felt like I had to justify myself and give a valid explanation. I wrote that post explaining why I had that boundary, and I put it in a place where anyone could find it.

I said no when people asked, let them make jokes about it, and made jokes about it myself in response. As time went on I got more and more exasperated when I had to repeat myself. I wrote definite rules into my ask box, request tab, and FAQ. People still asked. I wrote it into my description. People still asked.

The truth is yeah, there’s a pretty simple explanation for my discomfort. It makes sense. It’s easy to understand, and most folks think it’s a “good enough” reason to leave me alone. The difference between young-me and current-me is that I no longer feel the need to justify myself.

None of y’all need to know why I set the boundaries that I set. My explanation isn’t relevant, and I’m not obligated to give it. I said no. That’s enough.

I think a good number of folks remember my explanation from the past, and I don’t mind that at all. There may be a time where I talk about it again, in a more appropriate context, so I guess we’ll see.

That’s a lot of information in response to a very helpful ask. Thanks! The link is gone now, and I’m so pleased that you enjoyed the fic :)

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Anonymous said:

U suck

Kenza sent this anon as a joke. She’s right, and I thank her.

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Anonymous said:

I'm a doctor and ive seen it all.....but the milk fic made me gag

Excellent

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@wingedskyes said:

Ah. Wait. I wasn't on anon....uhm. oh well. It's fine. I like milk and am not ashamed. 😆

I don’t think I received another message from you actually, but I too like milk and I’m glad we’re on the same page

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@thelittleredheadedmusician said:

To add to the milk discussions: my best friend from home and best friend from college have each finished a gallon a milk by themselves within 2 days.

I do that too, every once in awhile. When the milk craving hits it’s a gallon a day

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Anonymous said:

"TIM! POUR HIM. A GLASS OF M A L K!"

Hold on I have to google some things

Yeah this is funny

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Anonymous said:

I have read that milk fic three separate times and every time I’m laughing just as hard as Tim and dick by the end it’s just so excellently executed and builds so perfectly that by the time dick cracks I’m ready to go too and I just lose it it’s amazing I love it

Awww anon I’m so pleased :)

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@the-smartass-under-the-mountain said:

Just wanted to drop by and say your recent fic with Tim antagonizing Damian with increasingly outrageous milk concoctions had me giggling. It was so cute and refreshing to see Dick enjoying Tim's little prank. And Bruce's reaction to just... walk away was fantastic!

Thank you! I’m always so thrilled when y’all think the jokes hit

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@njtheboywonder said:

I havnt really enjoyed a fic in years, but i stopped to read ur fanfic with tim drinking milk just to fuck w dami amd it made me smile. Thanks, for writing it.

Oh that warms my heart <3

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@bruciewayneisbatman said:

Tim Is totally the guy who would drink ridiculous amounts of dalgona coffee to annoy damian, according to that fic.

Had to google that one, but I guess so huh

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Anonymous said:

(diff anon) but that birthday fic was so good oml and you have opened my eyes as to the batfam in quarantine this is such a Concept

We’re all here dying..... together...

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Anonymous said:

Happy birthday! 🎉 or belated! 🎂 thank you for being in the fandom. 😊

Anonymous said:

To anon! Sorry. I forgot to add that! Anyway, thanks to them we get a lovely fic. I hope you have many more birthdays! 😊

Message for you anon

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Anonymous said:

Your writing gives off good vibes

Hear that guys I “passed my vibe check.” Is that what the youth say these days? I am an elder now and I do not know

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Anonymous said:

finding your blog while being relatively new to batman fandom is such a bliss. your batfam content especially is *chef's kiss* amazing.

Thank you my darling :) I’m glad you’re here

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Anonymous said:

Best line in a fic? Hard to pick just one, but this particular one from "Just Desserts" by fyeahbatmanandrobin on Tumblr is one of my faves: “Anyone else would be hard-pressed to provide the particular brand of excitement you bring to my life, Dami.”

@noisypaintersong said:

For the line thing: "I don't doubt it. Bruce Wayne, the unexpectedly normal guy wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a superhero wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a fake socialite wrapped in a businessman wrapped in a secretive billionaire." He paused. "…You're the seven-layer burrito of Gotham," he pondered. - Barry to Bruce in 'Of Friends and Foes' by Paganpunk2 on FFN. It's one of the funniest things I've read someone say to Bruce LOL

@kirakats submitted:

Anonymous said:

“I do know that according to everyone else, there is no chance, no future, no universe where I stay a hero.” Describes my frustration with the way DC treats Damian so accurately. Let the kid be a hero dammit.

Thanks! That’s really helpful. I’ve got a decent answer to my question now.

@kurawastaken submitted:

So this is Kenza retaliating against me for the milk fic. I very much hate tomatoes and specifically ketchup. This photo (1) is a nightmare and (2) fulfills its intended purpose.

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Anonymous said:

I love your blog!!!

And I love you

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Anonymous said:

quick question: how do you think jason reconciles with the fam?? i think in the comics they kinda just reboot and now he’s on better terms. but like what conversations happened, yknow??? (you’re doin great work by the way, it rips out my heart but it’s great)

This is an amazing question, and I’ll be thinking about it for the next bit, I think. That would be a really interesting topic to explore in depth

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@angel-gidget said:

*hugs you real tight* would you please send this to the first 10 people in your dash? Make sure someone gets a hug today and stay safe!

Oh thank you for the hug <3

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Anonymous said:

I hadn’t been aware of that Memphis petition, but I live in Memphis too (Altho I know you said you just grew up there so you may not be living here currently haha) so ig I just wanted to say thanks for bringing it to my attention!

!!!

I’ve been in Texas for six years now, ever since I started school, but I’m still in and out of Memphis for family purposes. Love the trash heap of my birth

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@damianwaynerocks said:

hey! any chance you know of any other dc heroes around damian’s age?

Sure! You could try Billy Batson, Jon Kent, or Maya Ducard

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Anonymous said:

hi! i don't know if it's okay to leave anons like these but ive been feeling down because my country has passed a bill that deprives us of lots of human rights freedom and i want you to know that i just found your blog through the damian/bruce + justice fic and it comforted me. im slowly going thru your works and so far they are all comforting. i love your stuff, thank you.

Philippines? I’ve heard some things, and I’m real sorry y’all’re going through that. I don’t know that there’s anything I could say about that to help, but I hope you’re finding joy somewhere

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@awesomeness-ofgaybitches said:

Tumblr hates you. The links in your bio and to your fic masterlist don't work on mobile. I'm sorry.

FUCK

#I'd like to also take this opportunity to note that at this time #I have blocked 7 people for variations on #okay no ships but what about sailboats??#but what about the TITANIC #here's a picture of the bat-boat tho #guess what kids it's not creative or funny #and I explicitly said that jokes will get you blocked #I follow through #asks

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